#the whole team pretending to look at something else in the first gif is so funny to me

[walnutmistjamie]

fave Ted Lasso moments 48/? : Every single one of you knows my ass isn't hairy, yet none of you spoke up. And I'll never forgive you.

[carpenterswife]

HALF OF ME (i)

SUMMARY: Despite appearances, you’d learnt Soldier Boy was, actually, capable of being a good man. Somehow, you’d wormed yourself into his good books, and had the rarest privilege of seeing him without the suit, the drugs, the ego, the everything. Just as things were going good, his heart somehow getting even warmer for you, the world separates you in the cruelest way.

PAIRING: Soldier Boy x Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 3573

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Sexism (set in the 1980’s), typical Soldier Boy behaviour, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, questionable morals (peer pressuring drug use), sexual content, eludes to smut, Soldier Boy may be a bit OOC at times, gore.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Becoming a world famous supe was never something you’d ever wanted. Sure, you’d grown up with their photos on your bedroom walls, your father telling you stories of when the first ever supe came to be, insisting he fought alongside the Soldier Boy in the war

The people around you seemed to idolise them. These… mostly regular people in tight suits, pretending to be better than everyone else.

You knew better. You knew enough. Enough to know supes were dirty, and corrupt, and definitely not the heroes they presented themselves to be. That their hands were more blood than they were skin anymore.

And, frankly, you wanted nothing to do with Vought or Payback — or whatever the fuck those shitty, useless superhero teams were called. (Seriously, what did they actually do? Except sit in their pretty tower and take the peoples’ taxes?)

Your father, however, had different ideas.

So, at 18, you woke up in the hospital, after an ugly head collision, with superpowers you’d never had before. A miracle, the doctors called it, a supe whose extraordinary powers had been hidden for her whole life. When you got home, you forced the truth out of your father. Compound V, he called it, a new chemical made by Vought.

No one was born a supe, he admitted, it all came from a liquid in a vial. The truth hurt you, as much as it didn’t really surprise you. Chosen by God, my ass.

This wasn’t supposed to be your life.

But it’s certainly what it turned out to be.

Payback were as shitty, if not more, than you’d originally thought. Each of them had… many flaws. Soldier Boy, obviously, was the worst. If the Devil reincarnated himself, he’d look and act like Soldier Boy.

Simply talking to the man made you want to shoot yourself.

Well… it did at one point.

Two years down the line, things had changed. Soldier Boy was still insufferable, sexist, arrogant, and a major asshole. But… he wasn’t so much a dick directly to you, as he used to be. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was actually somewhat nice to you. As much as his macho heart could manage, anyway.

You noticed it the first time when he saved your life on a mission. He’d grabbed your waist when a grenade clinked at your feet, whirling you around and to the ground, squashing you against his firm chest, using his shield to protect you both from the hot blast. He’d shrugged it off as nothing; as something any leader would do for his team. Then you watched him hit Gunpowder about for not following his order to a T, and realised… maybe he did treat you different.

It was undeniable these days.

You were the only person on Payback that Soldier Boy could remotely tolerate.

“You need’a be more careful.” Despite the hard look on his face, Soldier Boy was staring down at you, as a Vought doctor wrapped clean bandages tightly around your midsection. It was a bullet to the wound; which, with being a supe, wouldn’t be too bad, but you didn’t heal inhumanely fast like he did. “You’re fuckin’ useless when you’re hurt.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for your concern, Soldier Boy.”

His eyes narrowed into a harsh glare. “Ben.” He corrected you, for what was probably the 50th time. Each time he did, he got more annoyed with you. “How many times do I have to say it? Is there a brain in that pretty head’a’yours?“

You grunted, spinning on the bed and hanging your legs off the side of it. “Thanks for the compliment.” Ben rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, not offering a hand as you groaned in discomfort and got to your feet. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be healed up by the time we set off for Nicaragua, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout.”

Ben just grunted, displeased. “Ain’t happenin’.” He immediately shot that idea down. “We leave for Nicaragua in two weeks. You ain’t comin’. Sit this one out.”

You stared, expecting a joke. Clearly, he wasn’t. “Seriously?” You groaned, unhappy. What was it with this guy? “I’ll be fine. It’s a silly little bullet.”

“I was holdin’ your fuckin’ guts in your body.” He walked away, reminding you of just how bad your injury actually had been. He had, indeed, practically been keeping your guts inside of you as you bled out. “You ain’t going. You’re stayin’ here.” You chased after him, pulling your shirt on as you left the infirmary.

“Ben—“

He whirled around to face you. “I said, you’re fucking staying.” He growled, glaring down at you. God, were you glad you were on his side. This man was terrifying. Six feet of pure muscle, strength and violence. “You’re better off here, using that face of yours to get some PR.”

“And, what? The others will back you up?” You scoffed, grabbing his wrist as he went to walk away again. His expression went cold at your touch, but you didn’t flinch. As much as he tried to scare you, Ben wouldn’t raise a hand at you… probably. You had faith in the man. “They can’t fight for shit, Ben. Gunpowder hasn’t even discovered his own dick yet. You think you’re gonna have your back covered out there?”

He ripped his wrist away harshly. “I don’t need my back covered.”

“Everyone needs their back covered.” You argued. “Even you.”

He chuckled, sarcastic and dry. “You worried ‘bout me, princess?” You gave him a ‘seriously?’ look, as he took a step closer, mouth curled into that ever-infuriating smirk. “I’d perform better if you sent me off with a taste of that—“

“Ben.” You interrupted him, unimpressed. You rolled his eyes at his predictable behaviour. “I’m not gonna fuck morale into you.”

“Shame.” His eyes flicked up and down, tracing the curves of your body. “Bet you’d be a firecracker.” He walked away again, and you threw your hands up, groaning. Ben chuckled as he turned the corner. “Think it over, sweetheart.”

“You’ve got a hand.” You called back to him. “Use it!”

Conversations like that were very common with Ben.

It’d be a normal conversation (as normal as it gets with him) — and then he’d start talking about fucking you against the nearest surface, and all pleasantries went down the drain. Seriously, he thought 80% with his dick, and 20% with his actual brain.

And that was being kind.

But, beneath all of his macho assholery, was his genuine worry. You knew he wasn’t letting you accompany the rest of the team to Nicaragua because of your injury, despite how minor it was, and that he was worried you’d injure yourself further.

You’d never slept with Ben, despite how much he’d tried to charm you into his bed. Your relationship was strange. He flirted, you flirted — there were lingering touches. And, sure, he’d never put his dick in you, but his fingers were a different question. And… oh, boy, could that man use his hands.

It was like being in a relationship, just without the sex. Which was odd, as it was Soldier Boy. But, the way he smiled at you and treated you, it made you feel different to the other women.

He was just… shit it showing it.

Poor bastard wouldn’t know emotion if it slapped him in the face.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

“I am not wearing this.”

Okay… scratch all of that. Maybe Ben was just a dickhead.

He lounged back in his chair, grinning lazily, legs spread like he owned the place. He probably thought he did. “Why not?” He took a sip of his whiskey, ice clinking against the sides, eyes never leaving you from over the rim of the glass.

You held up the fabric. “Seriously?”

It was basically a scrap of fabric, with how much it covered up. You didn’t shy away from showing skin. You quite liked short skirts and pushing the line. Because, as a supe, there was a line. Vought liked it when you showed skin — apparently it made your ratings go up with the male fans, no shocker. But, too much skin on display, the male fans started calling you a whore, and the ratings shot back down.

It was a bit like a balancing game, trying to find the perfect amount of skin to make the boys ogle but also respect you. An impossible feat, truthfully.

And this? This was definitely classed as too much.

“I don’t see the issue.” His smirk said otherwise.

“My tits are not gonna stay in this, Ben!”

His smirk just grew. “Again, I don’t see the issue.”

You groaned and put the dress down. “No. I’ll get my own dress. I am not wearing that.” You tell him, arms folding across your chest. You didn’t miss the way he checked out your tits, and the way the placement of your arms accentuated them.

He rolled his eyes, obviously not happy with your decision. Leaning towards, elbows on his knees, Ben’s eyes took you in. “Why?” His head cocked to the side. “You’d look hot. It’d make your ass look great.”

“That’s not a compliment.” You grumbled, pushing a hand through your hair. Ben made a small grunt of disagreement, but didn’t say anything otherwise. “Listen, there’s a certain line. Alright? If I wear that, every guy out there will be callin’ me a whore. Okay? Imma find something else.”

He hummed and sat back. “I think you should wear that one.” Sighing heavily, you just rolled your eyes at his persistence. “All those assholes will be blowin’ their pants just lookin’ at you, sweetheart.”

“Again, not a compliment.”

Ben stared at you, and silently took another sip of his whiskey. He always seemed to think these crude, rather sexist and inappropriate remarks were compliments. Like commenting on your body. Or saying you’d be a freak in bed. Which were obviously not actually compliments.

You rolled your eyes, rubbing your forehead. “I’ll find another dress, Ben.” You told him, definitive. There was no way he was going to convince you to wear that dress.

“What a disappointment.” He grinned, lopsided. “I was lookin’ forward to seein’ you in that dress.”

“Again,” you deadpanned as he checked you out once more, “you have a hand… use it.”

Ben just smirked, and sipped his whiskey again.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You wore the fucking dress.

The asshole always won. Always.

He looked so fucking pleased, as you walked into his after-party, wearing the dress he’d picked out for you. His smugness was clear, brushing through the crowd with ease to come to you.

Ben hummed, eyes dilating as he stared you down. His eyes lingered on your tits, as they always did. “You look…” he hesitated, trying to think of a compliment that wasn’t degrading, and failed, “fuckin’ hot. If you weren’t such a bitch, I’d bend you over right here.”

Your face pulled together in disgust, looking at him with your lips pressed together “… gross.”

He chuckled. “Drink?” He offered. “I got your favourite.”

And there he goes again.

Being nice.

It did your damn head in.

Accepting his offer, you shivered as his large hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. They all seemed to part like the Red Sea as he came through, a fact that amused you greatly.

Seriously. These women looked at him like he was Jesus reincarnated, when he’d totally call them in a whore in bed.

Ben silently reached out for your favourite alcoholic drink, pouring it into a glass. His eyes scanned over the room, smirking at a few of the women ogling, sending them rushing to their friends and squealing. He merely chuckled and handed you the full glass.

“Thanks.” You murmured, taking it from him. Your eyes stared up at him for a moment, curious, before looking away again.

What was it with him? How could be such an egotistical one minute, and then be nice and respectful the next? It was like a guessing game, trying to figure out what mood he was in.

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, but not enough to hurt you. “Come with me.” He guided you through the crowd once again, to the doors in the back. As he pushed through into the room, he flashed you a cocky grin over his shoulder. Dickhead.

This room was far quieter. You noticed, immediately, the only people present were supes and celebrities, not the random civilians that’d been granted a pity invite — or the women Ben thought were hot. This was the main party. There were drugs covering every table, with various big names passed out on the chairs, blazed.

Ben lead you to the corner, where he’d obviously already been busy, if the half-snorted lines of cocaine proved anything.

Silently, he offered you a line, which you gratefully accepted.

You didn’t do drugs before you joined Payback. In fact, you’d avoided them, promising yourself you’d never become that type of person. But it was the norm within Vought. Every supe spent their nights filling their bodies to the brim with various drugs, poisoning themselves. So, you started smoking weed to fit in.

Then Ben found out you only did weed, and decided it wasn’t enough. With enough pressure, he’d gotten you onto any other substance he could convince you to try.

It made you more attractive, in his eyes, as you spiralled into addiction like him.

In fact, it got him rock hard, to snort lines or share a joint with you. It was so fucking hot, watching your eyes glass over as you got higher with every hit, with every line. God, it turned him on so bad.

You snorted your third line of the night, when Ben suddenly pushed you back into your chair. Bewildered, you stared at him, as he snatched up a baggie of the white powder. Your heart leapt to your throat, the moment he moved aside the slit in your dress, revealing the bare skin of your thigh. All breath left your lungs, watching him pour some of the powder onto your thigh.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He was about to do a line off you.

He glanced at you through his lashes, smirking at the shocked and flushed expression you wore. He used his pocket knife to cut the lines, mindful of the sharp blade against your soft skin.

God, this was hot. He found it hot. You found it hot. It’d be a damn miracle if you ended the night with your clothes on at this point.

Your skin tingled as he sniffed up the first line, of his hands roughly gripping the top of your thigh to steady you, his other holding a rolled up $100 bill. He groaned in pleasure, body physically shuddering, head shaking, as the drug made his body run hot.

He did the next line, the grip on your thigh becoming tighter as his pupils began to blow up.

Was it getting hot in here? Or was it just you?

Maybe it was the cocaine in your systems, maybe it was the fact Ben was just… so damn hot, but you couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing his hair and forcing his head up as he snorted the final line off your thigh.

He looked up at you, pupils blown, lips parted. Holy shit. This man was sculpted like a fucking God. Your body shivered. “You finally takin’ my offer, sweetheart?” He chuckled, shaking off the immediate effects of the cocaine, raising himself up to your level.

“Fuck me.” You whispered, breathless, practically begging him.

His eyes went dark, almost black, with lust. The smirk on his lips made you squeeze your legs together. “Don’t need to ask me twice.”

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

You now understood the hype. You understood why women bent their knees the moment Ben uttered a word to them.

Holy shit, did this man have talent.

Your legs were still twitching, the space in between your legs throbbing and tingling with how many times you’d come on his fingers, his tongue and cock. You’d counted four, before your vision had gone white.

Jesus, he had stamina. A glance at the clock on the wall confirmed it’d been just over five hours since you’d first fell into Ben’s bed. That super strength was better for more than just fighting, after all. This man should be advertised for his abilities. No shocker he was an American sex symbol.

He’d just fucked your brains out.

And now, he was staring at you with admiration, laid on his side, in the same bed he’d just railed you in. “You feelin’ okay?” He murmured, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah.” You rolled over to face him, a jolt of discomfort and pain in your hips and thighs. You might have to hold back on… doing anything for the next few days, however. “You didn’t break anything.” You joked, soft and breathy.

He chuckled quietly, hand sliding around your waist and dragging you closer to him. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to do that.” He whispered, uncharacteristically soft and gentle.

“To fuck me senseless?”

He smirked. “Mm, I have dreamt of that.” Your eyes narrowed in mild disgust at the image of him having wet dreams about you, swatting his chest. He grinned and caught your hand. “No… I meant how long I’ve waited to have you. You’re fuckin’ perfect. Not just your body. Everything about you is so sexy.”

Your brows furrowed, squeezing his hand, and then worming your fingers out of his. “What do you mean?” You asked softly.

He seemed to struggle for a moment. He wet his tongue with his lips, making your body tingle again. Jesus. “Let’s get dinner.”

What.

“Me and you.” Ben smiled, tracing the curves of your body with a featherlight touch. “Real fancy. I’ll pay.” Was he… asking you on a date right now? The Soldier Boy, asking you on a date? Instead of fucking you and tossing you out?

“You’re serious?” You asked softly, surprised. When he nodded, you grinned, biting your lip to contain it. “Okay, Ben. Let’s get dinner.”

His eyes lit up. Ducking his head down, his lips touched yours, gentle and affectionate. His kiss spoke so many words; his hands gently cradling your body, as he kissed you like you were made of glass. The touch was intimate and loving, widely different to the one he’d used when he’d been on top of you.

No, this was completely different. This was him being vulnerable. This was him showing you just how he felt, without the words.

He smiled against your lips and pulled back, just enough to speak, but his words were still brushing yours. “Yeah?” He whispered, in response to your agreement.

“Yeah.” You stared at him with big eyes.

He grinned, almost boyish in its nature. He stared at you in adoration, seeming to be collecting the words on the tip of his tongue.

You giggled under his stare. You sat up, pulling him with you, grabbing the blanket that he had draped over his headboard. It was fluffy and warm, and smelt like his cologne, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap it around your shoulders, cocooning yourself.

If possible, his gaze softened even more. “You’re adorable.”

Quietly, you laughed. “You sure you wanna do this, Ben?” You stared back at him. Ben was nothing if not a womaniser. Settling down was nothing like him. “Get serious with me, I mean.”

“You’re the only one I’d ever want to.”

Your brows pulled together, confused. “Why?”

Ben soothed a hand through your hair, green eyes drinking in the perfections and imperfections on your face. “You’re the only one I trust.” His voice was gravelly, still heavy with the effects of your recent endeavours. His hand travelled through your hair, and then came down to cup your cheek.

Wrapped up in his fluffy blanket, your head rested on the wooden headboard. “I trust you, too.” You whispered, tilting your head into his palm. His skin was rough, painted with callouses and scars. Every scar on his body had a story. And you’d spend the rest of your life learning every single one.

Despite himself, he smiled at you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. “I’d kill for you. You know that?” His words made you shiver. Ben killing people wasn’t exactly new… or surprising. But doing it for you? God, it made your stomach heat up — and other parts. “These assholes don’t hold a candle to you, doll. Countess? That whore is— is repulsive compared to you.”

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes affectionately. “Ben.” You scolded quietly, though not with an ounce of anger.

The supe just smirked, chuckling deep in his throat. “You want me to drop that bullshit PR relationship I have with her? I’ll do it. In a fucking heartbeat. I’ll be with you, publicly, if you want me.”

“You’d ruin your reputation for me?” Now that — that meant something. Ben could say anything and everything; he was a master manipulator. He could get anything he wanted with that smile and his suave words. But, if there was one thing he would always prioritise, it was his reputation. He’d do anything to be the alpha male. Anything.

“I’d do anything for you.” He grabbed your hand within his much larger one, guiding it to his chest. He pressed your palm over his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat. “I’ll do anything for you, to be with you.” You felt the steady rhythm of his heart. He wasn’t lying. That, or he was a great fucking liar. “I’m never leaving your side. I’m yours.”

Your eyes searched deep within his. “Always?”

Ben smiled. “Always.” He leant forward, gently pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss.

Three months later, Soldier Boy died in a nuclear meltdown.

A/N: jesus christ this took me so long to write 😭 but i’m so happy with how this first chap turned out. it’s gonna get so much more fun to write we get to the action 👀 pls lmk if there’s any mistakes, as i will go back n fix them !!! hope you enjoyed <3

banners by @cafekitsune

TAGLIST: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

gimme more

pairing: joel x reader x tommy

tags/cws: sex pollen (reader is infected by it), breeding kink

summary: joel is just being a good friend by helping reader out, and tommy is just being a good brother by tag-teaming

a/n: div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

this is kind of theoretically set in jackson (AU where nothing bad happens lol), but we're going to pretend that the writer has finished tlou2 (and has not been caught up in playing silent hill) and is not just guessing about the details of jackson and such

wc: 2.2k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @leonfucker3000 @withonly-sweetheart

You've experienced your fair share of unthinkable, inexplicable things since the outbreak began. Out of necessity, you've become familiar with the cordyceps — what it looks like, how it spreads, what the cure is (a bullet to the head). Whatever you just inhaled is not the cordyceps virus, but you feel zero relief in knowing that. You have no idea what this is and what it's going to do to you.

Joel calls out to you from above.

"Don't come down here," you yell back. "I think something's wrong."

It's the best way you can explain it.

"Then get your ass up here!" He's pissed, he's scared.

You shouldn't have been so reckless. You were stupid to think you'd find anything good in that abandoned bunker. If there was once something worth your excursion, it's long gone. Like everywhere else, it's been looted.

When Joel reaches out to help you pull yourself above ground, you can't help but notice how big his hands are, how strong he is, the way his arms flex when he pulls you up to relative safety.

"What happened down there?"

"I don't know, but I feel… weird. Something's not right with me."

"You didn't get bit did you?"

"No, it's not that. Definitely not. It's something different. When I went down there, it was like I set off some sort of alarm system, except it didn't make any noise, it just sprayed out some sort of blue smoke."

"And you inhaled it?"

"I didn't mean to."

The route back is short, but it's torture – your whole body feels like its been set on fire, and you want to keel over in pain.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Joel asks.

"No, I'm fine." You're not fine. You're out of breath, dizzy, aching for something.

Joel ignores your lies and picks you up. The minute he touches you, you know exactly what your body wants — him. You whimper at his touch — his hands aren't anywhere they shouldn't be, but your whole body feels sensitive.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No, not really… I don't know."

"Why are you whining then? Either you're hurt or you're on the edge of a fuckin' orgasm."

He laughs, but you don't.

"…Both," you admit.

He looks at his hands, making sure he's not touching you inappropriately.

"I don't understand. I'm not touching you down there, and you're not touching yourself. You got vibrating panties or somethin'?"

"I wish."

He stops. Then, in a whisper despite the fact that you're alone, asks, "Do you think it's whatever you inhaled?"

"Yeah."

"Let's hurry down to the infirmary then."

"No. There's nothing they can do for me."

"Don't say that. I'm sure it's nothin' and they'll be able to fix you up just fine."

"No, they can't. I know what I need. I can feel it."

Or at least, you hope it's what you need. You'd rather die than walk into a clinic and tell the nurse that you're so horny you think you're about to, well, die. You've made your bed and you're ready to lie in it — so long as Joel is there too.

He changes course slightly, and walks towards his house. Not much needs to be said. The look of sheer desperation in your eyes is enough. Has he dreamt about fucking you before? Maybe, but that's not why he agrees to do it. Above all else, Joel cares about you.

You don't make it to his bedroom, only to the living room couch. The curtains are drawn and Joel lives alone, so it makes little difference (minus the back pain that you'll inevitably endure from a couch rendezvous).

It's not your first time having sex, and you know it's not Joel's either, but it's the first time you've ever done this together. See, in your nighttime fantasies, he comes to you — on you, in you, for you — quite often, but in the real world, you're just close friends. The rumors that circulate are (unfortunately) not true: you're not fucking Joel. Or, you weren't. Now, you are. Now, you're tearing off your clothes because holy fuck it's hotter than it should be in April. You're feeling feverish as you help Joel strip (while he takes a minute to be awestruck by your bare body).

You're fiddling helplessly with his belt buckle like it's a brand new contraption to your hazy eyes.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you ready first? Could go down on you…"

If someone put a gun to your head and asked you if you'd ever turn down Joel Miller offering to go down on you, you'd be dead. But despite how much you crave his mouth on your skin, you swear this thing might kill you if you wait any longer.

"I need you," is all you can muster.

"Lemme see if I can find a—"

He stands up, presumably to get a condom, but you grab him by the wrist.

"I need you," you say with more force this time.

It takes a mere glimpse of his cock — hard, throbbing in anticipation — to know that he needs you too.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he says when his hand reaches your glistening slit.

You let out a pathetic whimper. You're no longer in control. Whatever this toxin is, it's taken over. It needs Joel, you need Joel, it needs you to need Joel (more than you did already).

"I know, baby, I know," he soothes you as he steadies himself above you.

He slides into you with ease, buries himself to the hilt and then stops. He looks up to the ceiling, like he's about to speak to God, but all that leaves his mouth is a single word, "fuck", it comes out harsh, through gritted teeth, yet ultimately, it's his surrender.

His surrender to your needs, to your cunt that grips him like a vise and soaks him like a leaky faucet. Both of his hands hold your hips steady so he can pound into you as you beg for him to go harder, and he swears he hasn't fucked anyone like this in the last 20 years. Honestly, he's shocked his knees can handle it. He ought to have you ride him if you're so intent on controlling the pace, but then again, he doesn't trust your impulses.

Not only is he going to embarrass himself if he cums quickly, but he'll also leave you hanging. One hand moves to cover your mouth because he can't have you screaming. It takes everything in him to stifle you when you're moaning his name.

It's something between a warning and an apology. "I'm sorry, baby—I'm gonna cum." Naturally, he attempts to pull out since he's not wearing a condom, but you lock your legs around his hips and rip his hand from your mouth so you can tell him the three most important words right now, "Don't. Pull. Out."

"I don't wanna get you pregnant—"

"I want you to."

It all makes sense. "Is that what it wants?" His curiosity is piqued and the distraction of solving this puzzle keeps his orgasm at bay. "It wants me to… breed you? It's making you want me to get you pregnant?"

"Yes," you say a bit too enthusiastically. "Joel, please, I need you to."

"Need me to what?" He knows exactly what, and you can see that in the slight upward curve of his lips.

You groan in frustration — would he really be so cruel as to make you beg in a moment of crisis? Maybe.

"I need to hear you say it."

Joel could easily fill you to the brim right now, he needs to hear you beg because he'll need the memory later when he's alone, when he thinks about you. If you make it out of this situation, that is. But, fuck, if you're right, and all he really has to do is get you pregnant, there shouldn't be any problem.

"I need you to put a baby in me," you say, and while your body is still running wild in its starvation, embarrassment flashes across your face.

When Joel agrees, your orgasm overtakes you -- simply the thought is enough to make you gush all over his furniture. You thought you'd never reach your peak and be forced to teeter on the edge for the rest of your life. You hold him as close as you possibly can, forcing him deeper inside you with your legs around his hips and your arms around his back, digging your nails into his skin. He returns the sting with a bite to your neck, muffling a groan that threatens to escape him.

You're writhing against the pleasure, the overstimulation and the need for more mixing together, and Joel, melting in your arms, soothes you as best he can. His words are filthy and sweet all at once.

"It's okay, baby. I'm gonna put a baby in you, gonna get you knocked up. Don't gotta worry 'bout a thing."

When his grunts turn breathy, barely short of whimpers, you realize that he's turned on by this too. It's a blessing and a curse — his pride grapples with his arousal, fighting to keep his orgasm at bay but it's in vain. He cums inside you, and it feels like he's the one dying, and ascending to heaven (a place he never believed he'd step foot in).

You try to keep him inside you, but he insists that he has to pull out at some point.

Joel's about to put his pants on when the door swings open. At first you're afraid it's Ellie, and even though she's an adult, she's practically Joel's daughter – she's the last person who would want to see this. Who else has a key to Joel's house? you think. He's not giving them out to just anyone, even you don't have one (and you could be carrying his child).

Tommy, you realize, just as his voice echoes through the hall, calling for Joel.

"Hold on," Joel yells back, much louder than he needs to, considering the fact that there's only one wall between your naked body and an unsuspecting visitor.

Footsteps approach, and Joel gets the word "wait" halfway out of his mouth before Tommy enters the room. You all share a moment of silence before he apologizes, and excuses himself.

As he's walking towards the door, you try to pull Joel back in, telling him how badly you need him.

But he has another idea. Unconventional at best, but it's not like you're in an everyday situation anyway.

"Tommy," he says, stopping him before he leaves. "Will you do me — us — a huge favor?"

"Yeah, I won't tell anyone. Don't worry about it," he says, preemptively.

"No, no. A different favor." He peeks his head into the living room to see your miserable, desperate state.

"What's going on?"

Joel explains everything as best he can in as little time as possible. You admit, with less shame than you would otherwise, that you need someone to fuck you, and if Joel has to wait a bit to recover, it's a good thing he has a brother.

"You're sure about this?" Tommy asks.

Once you swear on your life that you are absolutely positive about this, he gives in, allows himself to indulge because ultimately, Tommy wants this too. Maybe their shared DNA influences their shared kinks, or maybe you're an attractive woman, splayed out on the couch naked and begging to be fucked.

Tommy makes quick work of his clothes, discarding them on the floor — he can sense your eagerness to have him inside you, almost as intense as his own desire.

It's not like you needed any lubricant anyway, but Joel left you even slicker than before, so Tommy slides inside you with greater ease despite being nearly as big as his brother. He's quick to lift your legs to gain greater leverage so he can up the pace of his thrusts.

You moans, despite how loud they are, do not cover up the wet sounds of Tommy fucking you.

"Are you sure you want me to cum inside you?"

"Yes, please, need you to get me pregnant," you say, throwing him for a loop. Whoops, you must've forgotten to mention that part.

He looks at you, then at Joel, in disbelief, assuming this is some sort of trick, a test, a gift — it doesn't really matter because he's too far gone to hold back.

"Fuck, I'll knock you up if that's what you really want, baby."

All you can say is "please".

"Wonder whose baby it'll be," he says, steady thrusts gaining momentum.

If he's toying with you, it's working, strange as it might be, the concept is a turn-on. It's Schrodinger's baby. You cannot be sure whose baby you're carrying -- if there is one at all -- so you can imagine it as both Joel's and Tommy's at once.

You look at Tommy, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, mind blanking. Surely, he's not having a scientific breakthrough, but maybe a transcendental experience.

Then, you look at Joel, who holds the awe of a full auditorium in his eyes, but there will be no standing ovation for your performance because he's using all of his strength to hold himself back from rushing the metaphorical stage, and one hand is busy palming his aching cock through his jeans to subdue that urge.

Tommy takes your chin, and with a sudden sternness, says, "Look at me when I cum inside you. Not him. He's not fucking you."

But when your eyes meet his, he's not the only one approaching his peak – you are going over the edge with him. You swear you might've blacked out because Tommy is already pulling out of you when you fully regain consciousness.

Once you get your bearings straight you realize something: you feel a lot better.

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME. i just wanna get to know you, guess i didn’t quite think it through.

CHAPTER TWO! pairing, paige bueckers x fem!oc. notes, thank you guys for all the love on the first part!!! it only made me more excited for this rollercoaster fr... here’s part two 🫦 not proofread… warnings, injury and the angst with that!

july, 2022

it had been a few weeks since sana’s first practice, and things had shifted between her and paige—though not entirely for the better or worse.

the sun had been setting over the outdoor court. it was one of those perfect summer nights where the heat had finally loosened its grip and mellowed to something more bearable. the team had migrated outside because the gym’s ac was busted, and this hangout—just a casual run, really—felt different. lighter. less pressure.

azzi had brought a speaker, blasting music that set the tone for the evening. most of the girls had left to grab pizza and bring it back, but a few stayed behind, shooting around, lounging on the benches, laughing and talking.

sana had blended in perfectly with the huskies these past few weeks, getting along especially well with nika, azzi, and caroline. nika, in particular, had taken a liking to her no-nonsense attitude, and let’s just say practice was a pain in the ass for their coaches when they weren’t entirely focused. when nika made a joke, sana was always there to back it up, making it ten times funnier. you can also say that paige caught most of these strays.

the rest of the team seemed to quickly hop on the sana train themselves. she was a perfectionist in a way that wasn’t overbearing, and it was why her game was so good in the first place. she made everyone around her better by just being herself, and it showed. but even so, she’d built rapport with most of them, save for one notable exception.

paige bueckers, of course.

paige, who had spent the last few weeks vacillating between subtle irritation and begrudging respect when it came to sana. there were moments where she’d find herself looking and wondering why she couldn’t just relax, couldn’t just click with her the way she did with everyone else. if it wasn’t exactly hate, then what was it?

they weren’t at each other’s throats, in fact, the first day of practice was probably as hostile as it had ever gotten between them. sana was mature enough to the point where she wouldn’t let it get that far, but always pushed it borderline to the edge. every interaction was like a test, some back-and-fourth exchange that only left paige to think what the fuck sana even meant by what she’d just said, because she swore there was some bigger meaning.

the first few weeks had been like that. testing boundaries. sana with her measured responses, and paige with her quick retorts and lingering glances in which she always denied, kinda like right now.

paige was standing near the sideline, pretending to dribble aimlessly while keeping a very subtle eye on sana, who had moved to grab a drink of water at the other end of the court. it was unintentional—at least that’s what she told herself—but her eyes always seemed to find their way back to her, no matter where she was.

the blonde found herself noticing other things, things she had no business noticing for the amount of times she’s actually had a conversation with the girl that didn’t include some type of jab. the way sana’s smile tilted just a bit when she was being sarcastic, the way her eyes narrowed slightly when she was focused. paige hated that she noticed those things—hated that sana was in her head at all.

nika, who had been watching the whole thing with a growing smirk, sauntered over to paige, draping an arm over her shoulders. “you know, if you’re gonna keep staring, at least make it less obvious.”

paige elbowed her in the side, pushing the brunette off of her with a smug smirk. “you can shut up.”

nika stumbled back dramatically, clutching her side as if paige had actually hurt her. “damn, alright!” she laughed, tossing her ponytail behind her head. “but seriously, i thought this was just a first day thing. shouldn’t the transfer aftershock be well over by now?”

paige rolled her eyes, licking her lips as more of a habit than necessity as she began dribbling the basketball again. she kept her head down, focusing on the sound against the pavement as she passed from hand to hand, sliding the ball between her legs a few times too. “there’s nothing to get over.”

“sure, sure,” nika said, her grin wide, as if she didn’t believe a single word. her eyes flicked between paige and the far end of the court, where sana had just finished downing half a water bottle, her shoulders rising and falling. she then looked at azzi, who had been making her way back over from messing with the songs on her playlist.

of course her best friend had noticed too.

“wait, what are we talking about? paige and sana?” azzi threw out as if she’d been dying to talk about it for a hot minute. “because you have got a terrible poker face,” the curly-haired girl pointed at paige, the comment sending nika into a fit of snickers that had her hunching over.

paige’s head whipped to her. “nah, you can chill too,” she said, pointing at azzi with mock exasperation. “and it’s not that funny,” paige deadpanned, although she couldn’t bite back her smirk for the life of her.

nika straightened up, giving paige a faux serious look as she tilted her head back thoughtfully. “okay, sure you don’t wanna tell her how good she looks in navy?”

and well, it only made the blonde more upset that she did indeed look too good in that damn navy workout tee.

“i ain’t even lookin’ at her like that,” paige said, too defensive way too quickly. she punctuated her response with a cheesy grin, the type she used to play it cool while her insides were knotting up.

“really? cause you’ve got that whole wistful longing look on lock down.” nika gave her a look herself, a long one that made the blonde semi-uncomfortable. the brunette was reading her to filth, but paige had came to the conclusion awhile ago that nothing could happen if the feelings weren’t reciprocated. nothing would happen.

“wistful?” paige stared, shaking her head. “she hates me.”

nika raised her eyebrows, jerking her head back. “oh! so you’re saying you’d crush if she didn’t hate you?”

paige huffed out a laugh, scrunching her face up as she let the ball roll to a stop under her foot. “crush is actually crazy, nika.”

“eh, not entirely,” azzi chimed in, her eyes gleaming with that ‘i see you’ look. nika practically jumped for joy at the backup, like it was a victory to have someone else on her side. clearly, she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

paige groaned internally, feeling cornered and slightly taken aback. “y’all think i have no self-control? we’re teammates.”

nika crossed her arms, smirking. “i’m praying that you do.”

paige paused for a second, brain tripping over nika’s words. that’s what everyone thought, right? that they were just teammates, that the line couldn’t be crossed. she kept telling herself that too—telling herself that all these games, all the heat, and tension between her and sana would eventually fizzle out because it had to. because it was supposed to.

“let’s be real for a second,” azzi said, looking down as she searched for the right words. she had a ball tucked underneath her arm. “if anything did happen between y’all—and i’m not saying it will—” she shot paige a pointed look, one that told her to not get defensive and cut her off. “—it’d throw the whole team off balance.”

“i know!” the blonde cut in, her voice sharper than she meant it to be. “but that’s not even on the table. nothing’s gonna happen.” she felt like she was convincing herself more than anyone else.

nika shrugged. “i mean, you say that now, but feelings are weird. and they don’t care about what’s allowed.”

paige stayed quiet for a second, turning over the idea. they don’t care about what’s allowed. feelings don’t care about what you’ve got going on, they just seep their way in.

she knew the rules, of course—both the ones the coaching staff had laid out and the unspoken ones. she couldn’t let this thing, whatever it was, turn into more. it wasn’t just about her or sana. it was about the team. the season. the future. the problem was that knowing that didn’t make the tension between them any less real. or maybe it was all in her head.

they don’t care about what’s allowed.

just as paige was about to respond, sana, oblivious—or pretending to be—was making her way back over to the group, the lazy saunter in her step practically designed to test paige’s patience. she straightened up instinctively, breathing in all straight-faced as she leaned over to pick up the ball from the ground.

“i brought friends,” she announced, caroline and ice stalking behind her. “what are you guys so serious about?” sana then asked, her eyes shifting between nika and azzi before landing on paige, as if her comment was more directed at the blonde. the question felt a little too casual, like sana had noticed how much less at ease paige was compared to just a few moments ago before she’d left.

“uh,” paige cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, feeling uncharacteristically off-balance. “we were just…talkin’ about the team.”

nika stared at her friend in actual disbelief. she was stuttering, and normally she’d jump to make fun of her for it, but she wanted to observe how this would play out. her answer was vague, sure, but it was the best she could come up with on the spot. paige wasn’t used to being caught off guard, especially not by sana. their interactions—when they did happen—were usually trash talk that was easy to brush off in the moment but lingered with her long after. but right now, there was something about sana’s direct attention that had her fumbling.

meanwhile, sana caught the hesitation in paige’s voice. she tilted her head ever so slightly, her smirk growing a little wider. paige stuttering? that was a first.

paige never stuttered.

ice broke the brief silence with a laugh. “are we playin’ or what?”

paige, determined to regain her footing, grinned and stepped back, dribbling the ball lazily between her legs as she walked backward. her eyes stayed locked on sana’s, her confidence slowly returning. “we’ll start,” she said, her voice a little lower now, challenging. “just don’t be mad when i drop 30 on you.”

sana’s smirk didn’t falter. she strolled closer, her hands clasped behind her back. “oh, you think you’re actually gonna score on me? i didn’t even know you had jokes like that.”

paige scrunched her face up, half from the setting sun taking over her eyesight, and half in disbelief. “i got more than just jokes,” she shot back, continuing to walk backward, her grin widening as she bounced the ball from hand to hand. “you ready to see?”

“i’m ready for you to see,” sana countered. her eyes moved down to the ball for a second before rising to meet paige’s again. then maybe to her perfectly parted pink lips, but then to her eyes again. “you’ll be the one sitting down after this.”

azzi, watching the scene unfold alongside everyone else, couldn’t hold back any longer. “double meaning,” she muttered under her breath, making nika nearly lose it beside her, biting her lip to keep from laughing too loudly.

sana’s gaze briefly moved toward azzi, catching the comment even though it was quiet. for a split second, her confident smirk faltered, and she narrowed her eyes at paige. “what were you talking about before i came back?” she asked, and the blonde should’ve known sana of all people would ask even if she had the slightest feeling it was about her. she was confrontational.

paige felt the shift immediately, recognizing that azzi’s offhand comment had landed. but instead of backing down, she kept her cool, though her heart was beating a little faster. “nothin’ you can’t handle,” she replied, her tone smug as she kept dribbling.

sana paused, tilting her head as she always did as if she was trying to piece everything together. “you guys talking about me?”

paige hesitated for half a second, barely noticeable to anyone except herself. “paranoid?”

“curious.”

paige licked her lips, holding her ground. “i said it was nothin’ you can’t handle, remember?”

sana’s smirk shifted, becoming a little sharper as she moved just close enough to make her presence felt. “right,” she said slowly, as if she didn’t believe her. “just wondering if i’m that interesting.”

the blonde’s eyes narrowed, fingers tightening around the basketball. “only when you talk too much.” she smiled, a wide one that left sana actually laughing as she pushed at her shoulder with two hands.

“shut up.”

paige stumbled back slightly, more out of performance than anything else, her grin never faltering. “you love to hate me, don’t you?”

sana blinked, clearly thrown, and for a moment paige had thought she’d pushed too far. crossed some invisible line she couldn’t quite see. but what she wasn’t ready for was the simple, almost quiet reply that followed. in fact, sana cursed herself for how vulnerable she sounded, that her mind felt the need to make it known to paige.

“i don’t hate you.”

and well, paige was thrown too.

august, 2022

you could’ve asked paige bueckers two weeks ago where she’d be today, right now, and it would be nowhere along the lines of sitting hopelessly in her bed with a torn acl injury. two weeks ago, she was at practice, thinking about championships, the first game all the way in november, and how invincible they’d be this season. two weeks ago, everything made sense.

now, nothing did.

she stared at the ceiling, the weight of the brace on her knee acting like a reminder she couldn’t shake off. the ache wasn’t just physical—it was deep, gnawing at her, like she’d lost a part of herself. this wasn’t supposed to happen. not to her. and now, she couldn’t even walk without wincing.

her phone vibrated with a text from her mom, the same encouraging words she’d gotten since the surgery: “you’re strong, paige. you’ll get through this.”

she knew her family meant well, but the truth was, they weren’t here. they weren’t the ones stuck in this room, feeling like the walls were closing in. they weren’t the ones who had to deal with the brutal reality of an injury that would change everything. they came through, sure—reassured her, gave her hugs, gifts, and pep talks, but then they left. they had lives to return to, jobs, obligations. paige was left here, marooned on campus, staring at a future she couldn’t control.

she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to watch the replay of the moment it happened. the wrong landing, the sharp twist, the way she knew immediately that something was off. the doctor’s words played on a loop in her head: “it’s a torn acl, paige. you’re gonna need surgery.” it was like they were speaking in slow motion, but time sped up so quickly after that. surgery dates just days after, recovery plans, the end of everything she’d been working for—at least for the season, maybe more.

how did this happen so fast?

she let out a breath, reaching for the bottle of water on her bedside table. caroline had been a constant, at least. she’d stuck around, even when she could’ve gone home to her family, to summer plans that didn’t involve taking care of her friend. the blonde was grateful, but there was a part of her that felt…resentful. she didn’t want to be anyone’s burden, and yet, here she was.

the door creaked open, and paige looked up, expecting caroline to walk in with her usual easy smile. but it wasn’t caroline.

it was sana.

paige’s brows furrowed. she didn’t expect to see her until practices started up again, let alone here, on campus, in the middle of summer. her hair was braided into two neat french braids, her skin glowing like she hadn’t just been dealing with whatever hell life had thrown at her.

“sana… what’re you doing here?” paige asked, more bluntly than she intended. there was a part of her that didn’t trust this—sana showing up out of nowhere, like she cared. she’d checked in alongside the rest of the team, yes, but to show up? it was an entirely different story.

sana shrugged, her usual confidence slightly muted. “i thought i’d check in.” she didn’t sit down, didn’t drop her bag. she lingered near the doorway, like she wasn’t sure if she should stay.

paige stared at her, suddenly a little self-conscious that sana had been seeing her like this, her knee propped up on a stack of pillows caroline had set up for her. she didn’t know why. “thought you’d be enjoying your summer.”

sana’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering for just a second before she shrugged again, more casually this time. “not much to enjoy back home.”

paige felt that. but she wasn’t about to let her guard down just because sana had decided to play the good teammate card. “what, your family didn’t want you back?” she asked, half-joking, half-serious.

sana’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second, and paige caught it. ah, she thought. there it was—something deeper. something that made her just as messed up inside as paige felt right now.

“they weren’t exactly throwing a party for my return,” sana said, leaning against the wall now, arms crossed over her chest. she avoided eye contact, and paige suddenly felt like an asshole for pressing.

“everybody’s got their shit right now then, huh?” paige muttered, sighing as she leaned back against the her headboard.

sana glanced at her, a small smirk playing on her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “yeah, something like that.” she finally moved from the doorway, settling on the chair across the room. there was still distance between them, but it was the closest they’d ever gotten to having a multi-layered conversation, something that unlocked all of the fronts sana had put up.

paige shifted slightly, watching her. the tension between them, however, was still there—longing, unspoken things neither of them seemed ready to admit, but for once, it felt like they weren’t playing a game. paige didn’t know if she could handle another layer of uncertainty in her life right now, but this? it felt different. on the other hand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that sana was here out of obligation rather than choice.

“why’d you really come?” paige asked, her voice softer now.

sana met her eyes, a set of absolutely exhausted blue hues. “i know we’re not exactly best friends, but it felt like the right thing to do,” she huffed out.

paige couldn’t help but smirk, and sana had seen that look before. she furrowed her eyebrows, already sensing the shift. “what?” she asked, her hands gesturing in a way that made it clear she wasn’t about to play along with whatever paige was thinking.

her smirk widened. “who knew all it would take is me getting injured for you to stop hating me.”

sana’s reaction was immediate. her lips parted slightly, and she gave a little shake of her head, almost as if she couldn’t believe the words had just come out of paige’s mouth. “i told you i didn’t hate you, p. i’ve never hated you.” the words came out firm, but not defensive.

“you do know you act like it though, right?” she was almost pleading for honesty at this point. “before your transfer. you never even looked my way.”

sana blinked, her posture stiffening slightly. it wasn’t like paige to push like this, to dig beneath the surface. and she definitely hadn’t expected to come here and admit so much, but maybe all they needed was to be sat down in a room together. no noise, no basketball. still, sana couldn’t help the way her defenses rose instinctively. “i didn’t have to look your way,” she said, but there was no bite to her words. it was more of an explanation, a little tired and raw. “everyone already was.”

paige didn’t move, just blinked. “except you.”

sana opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. she wasn’t sure how to explain it—to put into words why she had kept her distance. why she acted like paige didn’t exist, like she wasn’t the one person who’d always gotten under her skin without even trying.

“i don’t know,” sana finally admitted. “i guess… i didn’t want to.”

paige raised an eyebrow. “didn’t want to?”

she let out a breath, leaning forward slightly as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to bear while sitting back. “i’m just competitive. i push myself hard, and you’re one of the best. it’s not hate; it’s just… i don’t know. maybe i was trying to keep up with you.”

sana caruso had said she didn’t know two times practically within the same breath. for the first time, she’d seen the girl actually be unsure of something, unsure about her.

“and i’ve never hated you,” sana repeated, locking eyes with paige as if she needed her to really feel it. “i admire you, actually.”

was this real life?

“i guess i always thought you were untouchable,” paige confessed, mainly because it felt right. “like, you had everything figured out. and here i am, sitting on the sidelines while you about to be out there thriving.” she could’ve chuckled at the thought.

sana shook her head, the playful bravado she usually wore like armor slipping away. “you have no idea how often i felt like i was just pretending. like i was always one mistake away from everyone realizing i wasn’t as good as they thought.”

for a moment, paige didn’t know what to say. it was almost laughable—how similar they were in all the ways that mattered, but neither of them had seen it until now.

“i get that,” she finally said, her voice stripped of its usual humor. “i get it more than you think. i feel like i’ve already made that mistake.”

sana’s eyes softened, and there was an understanding that hadn’t been there before. and for the first time in what felt like forever, paige didn’t feel so alone. she felt seen. by sana, of all people.

“you’ll be back on the court before you know it,” sana said, her voice a little brighter now. she could tell paige had been getting in her head about the injury again, and although she hadn’t experienced something as life-changing as that, she could be there for her. “i can’t wait to see you kick everyone’s ass again.”

paige let out a breath, a laugh breaking through her chest, light but full of relief. “and you’re gonna get our team that chip.”

and sana smiled. at paige.

our team.

[briefinquiries]

Luke Alvez x Reader: It's About Time

Prompt: The reader and Luke pretend to be dating so that the rest of the team will stop trying to set Luke up on blind dates.  

Word count: 3k

Warnings: none

You've really done it now, Alvez, Luke thinks to himself.  

Of all the names he could have blurted out, he just had to choose yours. God, the Queen of England would have been better.  

He thought back to the conversation in the bullpen that had started this whole mess.

"I-I can't go out with your friend," Luke stuttered, wishing his coworkers would stop pushing him to go on all these blind dates just because he was single.

"C’mon, Luke-” Tara pressed. “She’s smart and accomplished. I think you two would really hit it off-"

"Because I'm seeing someone," he blurted out spontaneously, mind racing to come up with a name.

Tara and JJ all looked taken aback, then suspicious, their eyes narrowing in unison. Tara raised her brows, "Oh? Who?"

Luke’s mind went blank, his brain nearly sizzling as it worked fast to come up with something. He should have chosen someone random- the girl who always walked her dog by his house, or the one who made his coffees in the morning. Someone the team didn’t know.  Hell, a completely made up girl would’ve been better.  

Suddenly, a warm smile and deep, sparkling eyes flooded his mind, and Luke couldn't stop himself. "Y/N."

JJ’s jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her lips. "Y/N?"

Instantly, Luke’s entire insides flood with regret.  

You worked in the Counter-Terrorism division of the Bureau. Luke first met you in training at the Academy when he joined the FBI. You had become quick allies, before graduating and moving on to your assignments.

There had been a time, in the Academy, when Luke had a thing for you, quickly reigned in by your charm. He admired your work ethic and constant ability to make him laugh.  

But everything changed once you finished the Academy.  You remained in Quantico while Luke traveled with the Fugitive Task Force, gradually losing touch.  

It was only recently, with Luke joining the BAU, that you two were able to reconnect. Now that he was stationed in Quantico full time, you actually saw each other quite frequently. At first, just in passing- a consequence of your offices being so close to one another.  But, as time went on, you started rekindling during work gatherings and even meeting for drinks after hours.  Your friendship with Luke was easy and natural.  You even were introduced to his team- who all took a quick liking to you.   

Sometimes Luke thought you were closer to Penelope, Tara, and JJ than you were to him. He cringed realizing they would never buy it. "Yeah," he confirms anyway.

"Luke," Tara said slowly, "why haven’t we heard anything about this?"

"We... wanted to take things slow,” Luke lied. “It just... sort of happened."

“Well, I mean, it’s about time. I think Pen called this months ago,” JJ said. 

Luke’s face flushed bright red. 

"We have to tell her," Tara agreed. 

“Yeah, Luke, you should bring her to Garcia’s house party this weekend. I’m sure Matt would love to meet her.”

Great. 

Luke slid off the desk he was kneeling on and nodded in confirmation, “Yeah, great idea,” he lied again. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans; positive this whole thing was going to bite him in the ass.

...

The next morning, Luke arrived at the Bureau early. He needed to talk to you before anyone else could.  

He had a hunch that he might be murdered today.

You were heading for the elevators when it happened. You had your head down and were 20 minutes early to work, per usual. Normally, you didn’t encounter anyone on your way inside of Quantico. But you let out a startled squeal when suddenly, someone threw their arm between the closing metal doors, forcing them to reopen. Breathless from the scare, you quickly turn to realize it was Luke. You let out a sigh of relief before playfully shoving his shoulder. 

“God, you scared me,” you said. 

But Luke didn't laugh. Instead he tugged on his shirt uncomfortably, an awkward smile on his face. 

“What’s the matter with you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“So, uh-” how the hell was Luke supposed to casually bring this up?  “It’s a funny story really..”

“Spit it out, Alvez,” you said, you immediately could tell something was up.  Luke was never this fidgety. 

He bit his lip harshly. “The entire BAU may or may not think we’re dating-” he spit out quickly. “That’s not true-” he corrected.  “The entire BAU definitely thinks we’re dating.”

You gawked at Luke, not entirely processing what he had just told you. “What?” Your cheeks were growing hot with embarrassment. “Why?”

Luke offered a brief, cheeky smile, one that was layered with guilt. "See, now that's a funny story-"

"Spit it out, Alvez."

“-Because I told them we were.”

Without even thinking you turned and pressed the stop button on the elevator, locking the two of you into place. This conversation was going to take a lot longer than the minute it took to bring you to the fourth floor. 

“You what?” You gasped.    

“Like I said- it’s really, kind of a funny story-” 

But you cut him off. "You have ten seconds to explain before I strangle you to death in this elevator.”

Luke’s eyes widened with shock, even though that was exactly the reaction he expected.  

“Talk. Now.” You demanded, cornering him.  

"Tara was trying to set me up with one of her friends- and to get out of it I told her I was already seeing someone. When she asked who, I panicked and said you."

Your nostrils flared and Luke thought he could almost hear your teeth grinding. "Why wouldn’t you just say no to the date?" You asked. “Instead of lying?”

“Because it never stops- every gathering, every party, they’re trying to set me up.  It’s like I scream lonely or something.”

Your mouth tightened but you stayed quiet.

“I needed something that would shut them up for good.  Or at least a little while.”

"And so you said you were dating me..." 

Luke sighed. “I know it was stupid. But I’m tired of going on meaningless dates that never turn out good. I just needed a break... I mean, it's exhausting, really- and never ending. But I get it- I mean, I get it's not fair to you. But I panicked- and just reacted." God, he was blabbing. "But I’ll tell them it was a lie, I’ll go on the date-”

You crossed your arms. "You done?"

Luke nodded. You waited a moment, mulling the whole thing over in your head.

It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? Except, it was. Because back at the Academy, when you and Luke first became friends, you had developed a small, barely-there, tiny crush on Luke. However, now that he was stationed in Quantico and you two were seeing each other more often, your crush had only grown into a full fledged, real-life feelings.  

But the thought of Luke going on another blind date made you cringe, so without giving yourself a chance to do the responsible thing here, you blurted out a quick, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Luke said in disbelief. 

“What would I have to do?”

“Uh-” Luke stammers, like he’s still in shock. “Garcia’s party-  You could come to Garcia’s party with me.”

"Garcia’s party then," you declared. "We pretend to be together for the party."

Luke’s eyes met yours and he gave you a convincing smile. “Are you sure?”

You shrugged before pushing the button to start the elevator back up again. “Yeah, what the hell?”

…

You pulled into the driveway of Garcia’s home and both of you sat in the car, tensed.

“I’m sorry again about this. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. I owe you one. I just… didn’t want to do the blind date thing and you’re the only person I’d feel comfortable doing this with and-“ 

You cut Luke off and slid your calm hand over his shaking one. You hope the small admission was lost somewhere in Luke’s rushed, jumbled apology.

“Luke, it’s fine. I wouldn’t have said yes if I didn’t want to say yes.” You squeezed Luke’s hand, gently demanding for him to look up and into your eyes.

Luke obliged.

“I’m happy to be here with you. There’s no one else in the world that I’d rather be in a fake relationship with.”

Luke thought that, ‘or a real relationship’ was hanging somewhere in the air between them. But neither of you had the courage to admit it.

You squeezed Luke’s hand again before hopping out of the passenger’s side, going to the backseat to collect the bottle of wine you’d brought.  

To say Garcia was excited to see the two of you holding hands on her doorstep was an understatement. 

“Oh my gosh,” she said, looking shocked. “Oh my gosh. You guys are so beautiful together. I always had a feeling about this. Made for each other, you two. I called this.” 

“Hi Penelope,” you said through a smile.

She waved you in excitedly, and you and Luke exchanged glances before following her into the house.

Luke carried the bags in and you carried the wine. Luke couldn’t help but think that this is probably how it would go if you two were really dating. Luke doing all the heavy lifting of the bags, and you letting your friends whisk you into the kitchen to chatter about something.

Luke shook the thought out of his head.  

...

“So tell me about how you guys got together,” JJ asked later in the night.  

Penelope’s eyes widened and she hurried to set down her glass before flailing her arms. “Oh, oh, oh!” she bounced excitedly. “I want to know too!” 

Everyone in the room’s attention turned to you. You opened your mouth to speak, but hesitated. 

While you floundered in your explanation. Luke wished he could go to you, wrap an arm around your waist, steady you and remind you that it was okay.

Luke was midway through the thought when he realized that oh… he could actually do that right now.

He crossed the room in a hurry before wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. He pulled you into his side, smiling at you as he felt you lean into his body, one of your arms snaking behind him to grip his hip. 

Luke could get used to this. 

But he won’t be getting used to this. Because this is just for the party and then you and him will go back to being just friends. 

“It uh-” Luke fumbled with his words, too distracted by the way your fingertips felt against the flesh of his hip. 

But you swooped in to save him, jumping into your story quickly. “It happened after work a little while ago. We were riding down in the elevator together and he finally just asked me out.” Luke squeezed your arm, as your voice trailed off. You looked up at him, smiling. “It was an easy yes from me, I’d been waiting for him to do that for a while- pretty much since the day we met.” You let the moment carry you through the story, let your real, raw feelings show, for once. And you hoped that Luke was listening to every word. You hoped it registered to Luke that not all of this was for show.

It took a small whimper of a sob that came from Garcia's mouth to snap the two of you from your trance. 

“Oh, you guys. I’m so happy for you both. This is wonderful. From the way Luke’s always talked about you, I figured that he was just in his own head again… he’s been head over heels for you for quite some time –“

“Oh wow, Garcia,” Luke choked on his words, his eyes wide. “That reminds me, we brought your favorite wine! Let’s get that opened, yeah?” His skin was the same shade as the Pinot Noir he was currently reaching for.

Garcia smiled and nodded, clapping her hands together before shuffling off to grab three wine glasses from the cupboard. But you were looking up at him with a blinding grin.

Just for show, Luke thought. Just for show.

Penelope returned with a handful of glasses, which she filled with a generous serving of wine and held hers up like she was about to give a toast. Luke groaned. He hadn’t anticipated how much his team would dote over his fake relationship. 

“To you, Y/N. For making my Luke the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and for so many years to come.”

You all clinked your glasses and sipped (in Luke’s case, chugged) before Garcia led them into the living room.

Luke found himself sitting on the couch listening to Rossi tell stories about his early days with the BAU.  Somewhere during the story your fingers laced together.

Luke wasn't sure when it happened or who initiated it.

But he certainly wasn’t complaining.

…

“God, how he drooled over you. I swear, his jaw dropped to the floor anytime you entered a room.”

Luke was going to kill Rossi. 

You, on the other hand, were laughing hysterically on the couch next to him. Luke was far past the mortification of it all at this point. His team had graciously taken it upon themselves to test if he could actually die of embarrassment. He assumed they’re about halfway there.

Somewhere between the stories of Luke’s desperate pining over you and your fond smiles, Luke had refilled his glass of wine.

He wished he had something stronger, because wine wasn’t exactly cutting it for him in this mess of a conversation.

You, however, looked happy.

Your second glass of wine had caused your cheeks to gently flush, while your full grin was on display. 

“Time for cards!” Garcia announced as she waved everyone into the kitchen. 

Before standing up, you leaned into Luke’s side. “You okay?" 

Your voice was soft. Luke pressed closer to you without thinking about it.

“Yeah. I-I’m fine, just… don’t listen to them, okay? JJ and Rossi are trying to wind me up, and Garcia’s just happy that I’m with someone. I promise I’m not some… some like.. I didn’t… what they said-" 

There was no way to explain what the team had said that wouldn’t result in Luke lying to you. All of those stories were true, they just sounded more pathetic when they were told all together like that.

You shook your head and grinned.

“It’s okay. Besides, if we were actually dating, I think I would be a little angry at you right now for not making a move sooner.” You winked before standing up, holding your hand out for Luke to take. 

Luke pushed himself up from the couch and linked his fingers with yours again, grabbing his glass of wine because he would probably need that to get through this night alive.

…

“She’s good for you, Luke. I’m glad that you finally mustered up the courage to ask her out.” Rossi clapped Luke on the back as he and you gathered up your things at the end of the evening.

All Luke could do was nod and smile in return.  

You, on the other hand, were in the middle of a shockingly long hug from Garcia, who was making you promise that you’d visit soon. 

Luke bites his lip, wondering if maybe this whole thing had gone too far. How was he supposed to keep up this facade when he showed up at work the next day and everyone asked about you? 

He was still thinking about it when the two of you got into the car.  

You exhaled a breath of relief as soon as you sat down. When you look over, Luke’s staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

Luke shook his head, chuckling uncomfortably. He stared down at his lap for a moment. 

You shifted in your seat, angling your body so that you were facing him. 

“Tell me,” you urge, your voice softening. 

Luke met your gaze, his lips turned into a small smile. “I’m just thinking about what I’m going to tell the team tomorrow.”

Your confused face urges him to continue. 

“I don’t know, I mean they love you- I think more than they love me. They’re gonna be asking about you all the time.  Do we fake a breakup now?”

Without thinking, you reached out to cup Luke’s cheek before leaning in and kissing him, softly and gently. 

You didn’t want to pull your lips away, and suddenly, Luke was kissing you back.  Only when you were desperate for air did you pull away.  

“Were they looking?” Luke asked quietly, still keeping his soft brown eyes locked on you. 

Narrowing your eyebrows, you shake your head. “No,” you tell him.  “No, they weren’t looking.”

Luke’s mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape, his jaw dropping slowly. 

“Luke-” you said slowly, hoping that you weren’t painfully misjudging the situation. “I think we both know that tonight wasn’t fake. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

You both looked at each other in fond silence before Luke nodded slowly, too shocked to speak. 

“Am I wrong?” you asked, your confidence fading quickly. 

Luke shook his head, “No,” he blurted out. “No, you aren’t wrong.”

With a grin you just couldn’t wipe off of your face, you nodded again.  “Good,” you whispered.  

Luke licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they were. “So maybe we don’t have to have a fake break up?” His sentence finished as a question. 

“Luke Alvez,” you said, scooting even closer towards him.  “Are you finally asking me out?”

Luke nodded while simultaneously closing the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss.  You were both smiling into each other’s touch.  

When you finally break apart, your face was flushed and you were out of breath. You smiled, little tears gathering in your eyes that Luke swiped away gently with the pad of his thumb. 

“It’s about time,” you told him smugly. 

[zegrasdrysdale]

under the mistletoe [ n. hischier ]

day one of malia’s christmas fic marathon

pairing : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : Nico needs a date for the Devils Christmas party so he turns to his best friend and asks if she doesn't mind being his fake date to the party

warning(s) : none. just enjoy the fluff :)

author’s note : day one is here. 11 more days to go. y’all are gonna be experiencing all kinds of up and downs during this fic marathon, but i hope y’all have a lot of fun

༺═──────────────═༻

The texts come through while she's already getting dressed for one of her other friend's party.

neeks 𓆩♡𓆪 - 6:01 pm i need to ask you for a huge favor. can you be my date for the devs christmas party tn ?

it starts at 7:30 and pally is hosting this year

i'll pick you up in like 45 mins and drive us both over. there will be lots of free food and drinks. can you please come with me ?

The only reason she agrees to go is because she's getting ready for a Christmas party. She has her makeup done and she can definitely get her hair done in less than forty-five minutes. Nico is always early for things so she expects him to show up a few minutes early to pick her up.

She has on a short dark red dress with spaghetti strap sleeves. It falls just past her ass and hugs her body. It has a dark sparkle to it when it hits the light. She pairs the dress with matching heels.

A loud knock rings through her small apartment as she's tying her slicked back hair into a tight ponytail. As soon as she's done, she runs to the front door in her heels.

On the other side stands Nico in one of his game day suits. He has on a red tie instead of a black one. His hair is gelled back and he's clean shaven. His big brown eyes take her in as soon as the door opens.

"Wow, look at you, Hischier," she teases as she leans against the doorway. She also just really needed to say something because she could feel her cheeks getting hot the longer Nico stared at her. "You clean up nicely."

Nico lets out a light laugh. "This is nothing," he replies. "I wear a suit like this pretty much every day."

She grabs her dark red jacket from the hook by the door. "I was talking about this," she comments as she pats Nico's smooth cheek. "Anyway, is the party at Pally's place or did he rent something out like Jack did last year?"

"In Jack's defense, he had a pretty small apartment," Nico tells her as they take the elevator down to the first floor. "He didn't have Luke living with him yet so he had to rent something out. But yes, it is in Pally's house this year. I heard he went all out with decorations and catering."

He holds the door to the building open so (Y/N) can click through it in her heels. Nico is right behind her. "Cool," she replies. "I've never been to Ondrej's house. His wife and little girl are so sweet though."

They're settled in Nico's car when he looks over. "Um, so I just wanted you to know that I may have told the team in a heat-of-the-moment thing that I was going to be bringing my girlfriend to the party," he admits to her.

(Y/N)'s eyes widen when she realizes what it means. "Are you telling me that you need me to fake being your girlfriend tonight?" she asks.

"I told you it was a huge favor," Nico reminds her. "Please say that you will do it. I don't want to be seen by my team as a liar so I need you to be my girlfriend for tonight only. If it's a lot then you don't have to but I would really-"

"Okay," she interrupts. "Tonight only. I want the full girlfriend experience though. No half-assing it, got it? I want hand holding and arms around my shoulders while we're sitting together."

If she is going to be Nico's pretend girlfriend for the night, she wants to go all out. Not to mention that if this is going to be the only time she will be Nico's girlfriend then she wants the whole thing.

The whole damn thing.

"Got it," he replies. "Anything else?"

"Not unless you think something is right to do at that moment."

༺═──────────────═༻

The Palat house is stunning. The snow that has fallen over the last few days makes it even more gorgeous. The outdoor decorations brighten up the building.

Cars are already parked up and down the street even though it’s still a little early. Nico helps (Y/N) out of his car when they park so she doesn’t slip on the ice that’s on the sidewalk. He offers her his arm and she happily hooks hers with his.

“I’m happy you agreed to come with me,” Nico says to her as they walk up the shoveled pavement to the front door. “I know I kind of tricked you into coming with me as my girlfriend but I get to hang out with my best friend all night so it’s a win-win for both of us.”

Best friend. The ultimate friendzone.

It’s a win-win for Nico. All she gets out of it is free food and a glimpse at what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with Nico.

“Yeah.” She puts a smile on her face despite how she feels and Nico rings the doorbell. (Y/N) lets out a quiet sigh as the door swings open.

Ondrej stands on the other side when the door swings open. “Welcome, guys,” he says. “Everyone is getting a drink and talking in the living room until dinner is ready. Come on in.”

Nico greets his teammate with a clap on the back and (Y/N) gives him a hug and a “it’s nice to see you again” before the two of them head into the living room. Palat takes her jacket before they go see the rest of the boys in the living room. Nico has his hand in hers as they turn the corner into the room.

Every single pair of eyes in that room is on (Y/N) and Nico. The guys that brought someone with them sit or stand with them at their side. Nearly everyone has a drink in their hand.

“When were you going to tell us that (Y/N) was your girlfriend, Nico?” Jack asks from the couch. “When we make playoffs and she got a jacket?”

Nico smiles and shakes his head. “I was going to tell you all eventually,” he tells his team. “We’ve just been enjoying the new change in our relationship. Right, liebling?”

In the years that she’s known him, she hears some of the names he’s called his girlfriends. She’s even looked some of them up because she didnt know what they meant.

The fact that Nico just called her one of his German nicknames sends a chill up her spine.

She shivers a bit and takes a step closer to Nico. “Yes,” she eventually agrees when she recovers enough to form words. “We’ve been enjoying our little bubble. We weren’t ready for it to burst but when Nico said that his teammates wanted to be introduced, I couldn’t say no.”

(Y/N) looks up at him with a smile on her face and wraps her arm around his. Nico looks down at her and mirrors her smile.

“I think it’s about time,” Jesper says from the other side of the room. “I mean, the way he talks about you in the locker room sometimes, (Y/N). I was hoping the two of you were together.”

That’s news to her. “Oh, what do you say about me in the locker room?” she asks sweetly to Nico. “I hope it is all appropriate.”

Some of the guys snicker, which results in their own date swatting them on the shoulder.

Nico’s face turns light red. “Just about how much I like being with you,” a flustered Nico replies. “I say that I can’t wait to see you when I know that we have plans. I tell them how happy I am when I know you’re up in the suite at home games. The usual stuff, you know?”

His words surprise her, especially because they aren’t actually together. He’s been making it sound like they are together.

It throws her off a little but she decides to play along.

“I say the same thing to my friends,” she lies. “About how excited I am to watch him play or when I know we are going out after. I especially tell them about how hot I think he is with that ‘C’ on his chest. I mean I have to cool off a little when I think about it sometimes.”

There are a few whistles around the room and (Y/N) stares up at Nico with a sly smile on her face.

It isn’t a lie. Nico might be her best friend but she has wished for years that he would see her as more than his best friend. She talks about how hot he is to her other friends all the time. Especially when he’s on the ice.

“You’re both so disgustingly in love,” Jack comments. “The way you look at each other makes me sick.”

They must be better actors than they thought.

Well, at least Nico must be because (Y/N) doesn’t know how much acting she’s actually doing right now.”

Dinner is ready shortly after. Everyone gathers around the table as best they can with the room they have. She is sitting so close to Nico that she’s basically on his lap. Not that she would mind that but Nico would.

Chicken is served as the main course. Rolls, salad, and pasta are served on the side. (Y/N) devours all of it because it’s so good.

Haula’s wife, Kristen, sits next to (Y/N). She asks, “So how long have you and Nico been together?”

“Just a few weeks,” she replies as soon as she swallows her bite of salad. “It hasn’t been too long.”

“The honeymoon phase is the best part,” Kristen tells her. “Sometimes I think Erik and I are still in ours. It truly is the best time in any relationship. Enjoy it.”

She looks over at Nico, who is laughing at something Jonas said next to him. “I’m trying,” she replies.

After dinner and dessert, a couple of the guys leave. They thank Palat for hosting before heading out the door.

(Y/N) finds herself on the couch beside Nico with a glass of red wine in her hand. Nico has had a few beers tonight so either she’s driving home since she’s only had one glass of wine or they’re calling an Uber. She can tell that Nico isn’t all here right now.

He has an arm draped around her shoulders while he talks to Akira, Timo, Tyler, and Jack above something hockey related. It’s always hockey related with this group.

She quietly sips her wine while the five of them talk about their next game against Detroit.

It’s weird but when she looks around the room, she doesn’t feel out of place. She’s already friends with a bunch of the guys’ wives and girlfriends. She’s babysat some of their kids during or after games. She knows all the guys on the team.

The only thing that’s weird is that she isn’t actually his girlfriend. It sucks because she’s been in love with him for well over a year and he has no idea or hasn’t shown any interest in being with her.

“Uh oh,” Jack suddenly says. “Look up Nico.”

When Nico looks up, so does (Y/N). Jesper and Palat stand behind them. Jesper is holding a piece of fake mistletoe.

“Oh shit,” Dawson laughs. “Get it, cap.”

A few of the remaining guys laugh.

Nico looks over at (Y/N) and raises his eyebrows in question. “Should we give it to them?” he asks while chants of “kiss her” break out around the room.

Not unless you think something is right to do at that moment. That’s what she said when she agreed to come as Nico’s fake girlfriend.

This is that moment.

Without even answering the question, (Y/N) leans over into Nico and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. She can taste the beer he’s been drinking throughout the night from that quick kiss.

His eyes are wide when she sits back a little bit, but he it doesn’t look like he hated it.

Actually, Nico leans into her and presses a longer kiss to her lips. Her hand flies to the back of his neck and one of his hands falls to her thigh right under where her dress ends.

Without realizing she’s doing it, (Y/N)’s fingers are playing with the ends of his hair. She thought he needed a haircut recently but now she doesn’t mind his longer hair.

Nico is the first one to break the kiss. He pulls back slowly and meets her eyes. His lips are red and slightly kiss-bruised. Her heart races in her chest.

She’s afraid that something has truly shifted between them, then Nico whispers, “Wow.” All her fears melt away and she smiles at him.

“We didn’t need all that,” Timo teases.

“I feel like I’m intruding on something,” Erik says.

Suddenly, Nico stands up and pulls (Y/N) up with him. “I think we’re going to head out,” he tells everyone. “I will see you all at practice tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”

Before she can protest, (Y/N) is being herded toward the Nico. Nico quickly helps her put her jacket on before they walk out into the cold air. It’s started to snow again as they leave the house.

The door shuts behind them and (Y/N) finally asks, “Why are we leaving?”

“Because,” Nico stammers. “Because-” He’s cut off when she slips on some ice. He quickly grabs her at the waist and holds her up so she doesn’t fall. Her entire body is pressed against him. “Because I was a little mad that our first kiss happened under some mistletoe.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Our first kiss?” she asks. “I don’t understand. I thought that was going to be our only kiss.”

Nico’s hands slide under her jacket and grip her waist. His nose grazes hers as he asks, “What if I don’t want to only have one kiss with you?”

Her heart jumps in her chest and she prays that Nico didn’t feel it. “I don’t want that to be our only kiss,” she softly tells him. “I’ve been waiting forever to kiss you, Nico. I don’t want that to be the only time I kiss you.”

He takes her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “Then kiss me like you mean it this time, liebling.” Nico’s voice is a whisper when he talks.

(Y/N) doesn’t hesitate. She gets higher on her toes and presses a hard and deep kiss to his lips.

It might be freezing and snowing, but all she can feel is the warmth against her lips and her body. She never wants to let go now that she’s had a taste.

༺═──────────────═༻

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[wosoamazing]

Opening Match

Summary: It's the Matilda's first 2023 World Cup Match, against Ireland and you're starting.

Warnings: Panic (I guess – but not like a panic attack, I don’t think), mentions of Sam’s WWC injury….

A/N: ACL injuries don’t exist in this universe, if only that was the case in the real world. Tried to make it semi-factual, so like the times at which things happen are factual, however obviously the goals aren’t. (Also I know the Lionesses were in QLD and the Matildas were in NSW but let’s just pretend they weren’t)

It had been an hour, and you still couldn’t get to sleep, you were too scared for tomorrow, Tony was starting you, which he had told you this morning, Sam had injured herself and he decided you were the best replacement, the only saving grace was that only the your Captain’s, Tony, and yourself knew this, the rest of the team would find out tomorrow, so at least you weren’t reminded of it all day.

You had millions of thoughts racing through your mind, preventing you from sleeping, causing the panic to ever so slowly increase. “What if I screw up” “What if this team wasn’t the right team” “What if I let the whole team down” “What if I don’t meet their expectations” “What if my streak at Arsenal has just been a fluke”.

A few tears had left your eyes at these thoughts, creating little puddles on your pillow. You decided to get up and go into the hallway, if you were going to cry you didn’t want to wake up Steph. You were crying for such a stupid reason, anyone would kill to be in the starting 11 for the Matildas, let alone a 16-year-old, yet here you were crying, wishing you could be anything but the Matildas starting 11. You quietly got out of your bed and walked towards the door, you opened the door just enough so you could slide out, trying to minimise the light that flooded the room, you made sure to keep hold of the door as it shut in hopes of it closing silently, you didn’t want to make a noise, you didn’t want to wake Steph or anyone else up. Except the thing was, Steph was actually still awake. She waited a while to see if you would come back thinking you had just gone to fill up your water bottle at the end of the hall, however when she noticed your water bottle was still sitting on the side table, she grew a little concerned, but she reassured herself that maybe you were just getting some Panadol or something from the medics. However, when she heard a faint sniffle come from just outside the door she panicked, she quickly jumped out of her bed, and made her way out into the hall.

“Oh bug,” she sighed out at the sight of you, beginning to sit next to you. You sat curled in a ball leaning against the wall, body slightly shaking with your sobs, you looked up at her, your face was red and tearstained, and your eyes were puffy. “It’s okay, I’m here,” she said softly as she pulled you into her lap, you sat there as she rocked you slightly trying to calm you down, you felt like a baby, how could you be so upset over this, and now you had disturbed Steph’s peace because of your pathetic little problem.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you” you mumbled into Steph’s chest.

“Don’t be sorry, you can always wake me for absolutely anything, but you didn’t actually wake me I was still awake” she gently replied, as she wiped your tears away with her shirt.

“Oh,” “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” “I don’t think I should start tomorrow, what if I stuff up, what if I’m not good enough for them, what if I don’t live up to their expectations, what if-” you were cut off by your ever increasing sobs, making it hard to speak, Steph sighed at your words, she had suggested that they didn’t start you, just brought you on early, but Sam and Tony thought starting you was best, coming out with a bang. Steph had hoped maybe her suggestion would be taken, reducing some of the pressure, the media was all over you already, pressuring you, so too were the fans. You were the sister of Leah Williamson, the women who captained the Lionesses to Euro’s victory in 2022, the women who once again would Captain the Lionesses in the fight for yet another victory, one that could well possibly be theirs. There was something extraordinary expected from you by the public, and the second the starting line-up was released that would only increase.

“Y/N/N, it’s okay to be nervous and a little scared, everyone does, it won’t stop, but you get used to it and before some games you will get more nervous than other games, why do you think I wasn’t asleep. But you can’t let the outside world affect you, the people in this building and in this team believe in you, and if you don’t do as well as you hoped well so be it, everyone had off days, off games. Don’t listen to them, they would faulter the second they took a step on the pitch, even the commentators yes they do know what they are talking about but at the end of the day they are there for the public so they are going to feed them, and I promise, we wouldn’t have chosen you if we didn’t believe in you, and Tony only expects that you try your hardest every time you step onto that pitch, that’s all any of us want.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you sigh before continuing “but why are you nervous for tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said you weren’t sleeping, and then you said some games you get more nervous than others, so I just assumed-” you were cut of by the sound of a door opening, you both look up to see Sam sleepily walking over to you rubbing her eyes.

“Shit, sorry did we wake you up, I didn’t think we were that loud” Steph whispered as Sam sat down.

“No, don’t worry, I couldn’t sleep, thought I heard something so just wanted to check, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter” Sam gave you a look, causing you to blurt it out “I’m scared Sam, what if I stuff up, what if I’m not good enough for them, and now I’ve disturbed both of you when you should be relaxing and sleeping and I shouldn’t be upset about this, it should be something happy but I’m too scared to be happy, and, and my problem isn’t even a big problem, I mean you can’t play and now I’m technically in a way complaining about being in the starting 11 to the person whose spot I took” at those words Sam looked down at the floor, the tears that had started welling up in your eyes, started streaming down, “I-I’m S-sorry, I-I, I shouldn’t have said that”.

Sam looked back up at you, her face held a sterner and more serious look “No, don’t apologise, it’s okay, you did nothing wrong, and never think just because some else may or may not have a bigger problem than you, that your emotions and feelings aren’t valid, and never apologise for what you say. And yes, I can’t play and you get to play but at the same time that doesn’t mean you can’t be upset, it’s a big thing starting in a major tournament let alone …..” you nodded finding her words to be oddly comforting and had stopped crying, Sam had pulled out her phone and was messaging someone, so you looked up to Steph.

“You know, you never answer my question from before,” “Really, I thought I got out of that one” “Nah-uh” you say with some sass as you shake your head.

“I don’t know, I just guess I didn’t really expect to be leading the team out, it’s kind of scary, I mean this is our chance to make history and I guess in a way I’m leading the team out and am in charge of the start of our chance. I just don’t know, its silly anyway,” Steph let out as a singular tear rolled down her check.

“Steph, you have nothing to worry about, you are such an amazing player, and you are such a great leader, and such a great big sister and mini Mum, I believe in you, as you said, Tony wouldn’t have picked you if he didn’t believe in you,” Steph blushed at your kind words, before letting out a small laugh at your end comment, she hug you tighter and mouthed ‘thank you’, before the three of you feel into a calm silence.

“I think we should go outside, get some fresh air quickly” Sam said, breaking the silence whilst almost winking at Steph. “Good idea, Sam”

“But its late, wont we get in trouble?” The last thing you wanted was to be getting in trouble the night before your first world cup game.

“No, we’ll be fine, we will only be quick and plus as Sam said some fresh air will do you good” Steph said as she practically dragged you upright. As you left the elevators and walked towards the hotel doors, you noticed an oddly familiar figure standing just outside the doors, they were holding something, what you didn’t notice was the smile your two captains exchanged at the sight of this figure, Sam opened the door and you stepped outside into the cool air, before you found yourself running up to the figure, “Le!” you exclaimed as you jumped into the arms of your sister, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I might’ve been told by a certain someone that my little sister was upset, and I thought I would quickly come visit to cheer her up.” You planted your feet back on the ground and said thank you to Sam before turning to talk with your sister, after a few minutes you both had to go back to your rooms, so you said bye to each other. She gave you one of her hoddies which you put on, it being the next best thing to being with her. You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were tired after all.

______

You were lining up in the tunnel when the nerves started to kick back in, probably due to the fact that when the teams were announced it was also announced that this is your first time starting, first major tournament playing for the Matildas and thus your first World Cup. You were also reminded that your sister had captained the Lionesses when they won the Euro’s just last year. But you felt Caitlin hands on your shoulders, and she squeezed them, Steph had obviously been discussing things with her. It was strange to you that the shoulder squeezes worked, but they did, they almost seemed to bring you out of your thoughts and into the present. As you walked out of the tunnel the stadium erupted, fans cheered like you’d never heard before, which is saying something considering you did attend the Euro’s final, you took your place in the line as the anthems were sung and soon enough the game was starting.

15 minutes in and a free kick was given, you took it, it was almost close enough to just go straight for the goal but you didn’t want to risk it, so you crossed it in, but instead of the ball finding a place at one of your teammates feet or head, it found a place in the back of the net, you had just scored your first goal for the Matildas, your first goal at a major tournament, your first goal at a world cup and the first Matildas goal of the world cup. You were elated. Your elation only increased at the 26th minute, when you headed the ball and it hit the back of the net, however you couldn’t take full credit for that one, Steph had delivered it in perfectly, you just had the easy job of tapping it in.

It was now extra time for the first half, you knew Tony was taking you off at half time, he had told you at the 35th minute during the ‘team tactical’ while Katie was down, Ireland was playing more aggressive than expected and Tony wasn’t risking having his two best strikers injured. Knowing this you decided to push yourself to your limits, you were running after every ball, you were taking tackles, and somehow by some miracle you scored your third goal in the final minute of extra time, you didn’t even know how you did it but you did, and with your goal the ref blew her whistle and the first half was over. The team ran over to you to celebrate, “Hattrick baby!” was screamed in your ear by someone, you all jumped up and down continuing to celebrate before deciding you should probably head back inside.

“Good game?” Sam asked as you walked into the tunnel together.

“Great Game!” You exclaimed, as you followed her through the door, to the locker room.

You took a seat in your locker ready to listen to Tony, being number 8 your locker was in-between Steph and Caitlin’s, “She might hate you now, though,” Caitlin said with a wink, it was a compliment in its finest, but it felt nice to get an inside compliment, like an inside joke not everyone would understand what she means.

“How do you feel? Like a million bucks?” Steph asked.

“Nope, like I chose the right team.”

[its-time-to-write]

ugggghhh I love your writing! your style and just voice are outstanding!

could you write something with Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) who are dating (but no one knows) and they are doing a PR thing for England or some ad campaign? And they have to do silly things and show how much they know about each other (like they have known each other since they were in school and have been friends for a while) but then Keeley catches on or something. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, but essentially it is Jamie and a professional footballer (female reader) relationship, thank you! <3

✌️😗

you’re a mansion with a view

There’s an insistent knocking on the door. It’s who-the-fuck-knows o’clock Jamie has been inside all day, lights off and dealing with a wicked hangover. The pounding on the door syncs up with the pounding in his head, and he Jamie shuffles to open it so the person on the other side can shut up.

He opens it to find you, mid-knock.

“Put a shirt on, Tartt,” you say as you push past him, grocery bag in hand. Jamie looks down. He’s just in his trousers, and for once he’s grateful that it isn’t the other way around.

“Fucking hell, Killer,” he groans. “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

You shake your head, ignoring the fact that he used your football nickname as opposed to your actual name. “Nope. It’s five. Training’s done for the day.”

Jamie follows you to his kitchen. Why you’re walking around like you own the place, he has no idea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks. “And how do you know where all my stuff is?”

You tap your head. “Our houses have the same layout. I can see yours from across the street, and noticed you haven’t been out in like, a week. That’s a record for you.”

Jamie rubs his face. “Fucking hell,” he says again. “So why are you here?”

You turn around from the fridge. “Figured you haven’t had a decent meal besides vanilla vodka.” You make a face. “Disgusting. Just because you’re not playing football doesn’t mean you can neglect nutrition, Tartt.”

“I ain’t neglecting my nutrition,” he replies. “Just…” he trails off.

You smirk. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought. The great Jamie Tartt, drowning his sorrows in vanilla vodka and becoming a couch potato. You haven’t even had any women ‘round to numb the sting. That’s new.”

You flip on a light to which Jamie groans. You flip it off. “So are you going to put on a shirt, or..?”

“Killer,” Jamie says for the third time, “the fuck are you doing in my house?”

You pretend to be digging in the grocery bag so you don’t have to look at his face.

“Saw your interview,” you reply as nonchalantly as possible. “Thought you might need someone to make sure you haven’t, I don’t know, died.”

Jamie knocks his head against the wall. “Has everyone fucking seen that?” 

You shrug. “Personally, I liked it a lot better than your season of Lust Conquers All. Lot more feeling in that one interview than the whole show, if you ask me.”

“So you saw that,” Jamie comments. This is far too many words for the headache he has.

“Yup.” 

“And you’re still here.”

“Uh huh.”

Jamie is at a loss for words. Everyone else has left him because of that fucking tv show, where he acted like the worst version of himself and didn’t even fucking win.

Doesn’t make sense that you, a midfielder from some women’s FC, would be in his house pulling out real food and making sure he’s alright.

For a moment, Jamie feels bad that he can’t remember what team you play for.

He thinks that this goes beyond neighborly duties. Sure, you live across the street from him and you’ve seen each other at various events, but this is probably the first real conversation you’ve ever had. He has no idea what to make of it.

He asks, “Why do you care?” then immediately cringes at the harsh tone of his voice.

You slam the fridge door harder than you anticipate, making you both jump.

“Because,” you say, then you sigh. 

“Footballer life off the pitch sucks sometimes. I wish someone had checked on me.”

“I ain’t a footballer,” Jamie points out, vaguely remembering something about your name in some less-than-friendly headline.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever you say, Tartt.”

—

Five months later, you’re at some random football pitch in your full kit and far more makeup than you’d wear to a match. 

Some magazine is doing some profile on different footballers, taking photos with different men and women from all kinds of teams together. You’re not sure why you, a midfielder, are here with Tartt, a striker.

You’re not complaining.

“Oi, Tartt,” you call, “how does it feel to be scored on by a girl?”

(The photographer wanted some action shots of you and Jamie playing 1 v 1.)

Jamie scoffs. “My masculinity ain’t fragile, Killer. Just lucky you didn’t break any of my bones.” He says the words carefully, as if they’re unfamiliar to his tongue and he wants to get them just right.

“You know I have a name, right?” you ask, breathing hard. You’ve dribbled the ball back to Jamie and are standing practically forehead to forehead. “Like, a real actual name that you’re allowed to use?”

Jamie grins and drops his voice to a near-whisper, “Oh I know how to use your name, love.”

You shiver, trapped in his gaze for a minute. 

The spell is broken as the photographer shouts, “Alright loves, let’s stage some of you two together.”

You both turn to jog to the sidelines, where she begins posing you. 

“Wow,” she remarks, “you two have great chemistry. Usually I have to tell you footballers to act like you like each other.”

Jamie grins and knocks his shoulder into yours. “Hear that, Killer?” he asks, “She thinks we have good chemistry.”

You roll your eyes and feign annoyance. “Be professional, Tartt.”

The photographer asks, “How long have you known each other?”

You and Jamie say, “Two years,” in perfect unison.

“My goodness,” she laughs, “you two are just in sync today! How’d you meet?” You say, “we’re neighbors,” at the same time Jamie says, “at a party.”

You both look at each other. “We met because we live across the street from each other,” you say.

Jamie shakes his head, “No, we met a week before you moved in at a party.”

“What party?” you ask. “Pretty sure I would’ve remembered meeting you.”

“Nah,” Jamie replies, “You were too busy getting sloshed with your teammates while they all hit on Keeley.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Was I sloshed?”

“Yep,” Jamie says. “Properly. It was the end of the season, so makes sense.”

“Weird,” you reply. “My first memory of you is when you tried to break into my house because you were too busy snogging this model to figure out you were on the wrong side of the street.”

“Oi, it could happen to anyone!” Jamie says defensively.

“Sure,” you laugh. “Happens to me all the time.”

You reach out to steal the football that’s tucked under Jamie’s arm, but he’s too quick for you. 

“Give it!” you say, still laughing.

He holds it above your head. “Give what?” he asks innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re jumping and trying to pull his arm down to where you can reach and are almost successful when he tosses it to his other hand.

“No fair!” you cry, “You’re taller than me!”

Jamie grins. “Oh, you want the football then? Maybe try asking nicely.”

You still. “Jamie,” you begin, “could you please give me the football?”

He’s still holding it high above you as he considers. “Hm.” He pretends to think for a moment. “No.” He breaks away from you and kicks it into the goal across the field.

“You can have it now,” he says when he returns. You’re trying so hard to be mad at him, but he has that silly little grin he gets when he’s trying to make you laugh and you just can’t fake a frown.

“Screw you, Tartt,” you laugh.

Jamie raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to reply when he’s cut off by the photographer.

“You two get along really well,” she says. “I think you’d be cute together.”

You blush and Jamie says, “I fucking hope so. She’s my girlfriend. Oi, d’you want a picture of us kissing?”

“No she doesn’t,” you say.

“Yes she does,” Jamie says. “We’re fucking adorable, babe. Football’s power couple. Behind Posh and Becks, of course,” he says as an afterthought. 

“Fine,” you say, “One. Then I’m getting that football and your ass is grass, Tartt.”

Jamie grins. “Fine by me, love.”

He leans in to kiss you but you pull away at the last second, sprinting toward the football still under the goalposts. Did he really think you were going to play fair?

[tangerinesgirl]

Reflection

*Spoilers for Abigail (2024)*

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Summary: You take a long shower after falling into the pool of bodies and miss all the action. Frank is the only survivor left.

Word count: 1.6k

Rating: 18+, NFSW, explicit

Warnings: smut, vampirism, blood, asphyxiation, mirror sex, p in v, dacryphilia, swearing

Notes: wow I'm so original with titles. Not an ask sorry I'll get round to some of them I promise, I've just had this idea in my head for a while! Also let's pretend the vampires in Abigail don't have reflections for the purpose of this fic. Enjoy!

🦇

After four really long showers, you finally felt somewhat clean after falling into that pool. If you could call it that, since you couldn't actually swim in it, just climb over the bodies. You spent ages fishing out the miscellaneous gunk caught in your hair.

You were lucky to find a travel hairbrush in the cabinet, which you accidentally snapped trying to detangle your hair. This nearly tipped you over the edge, as if the night couldn't get any worse.

One whole bottle of shampoo later, you grab a towel, wrap up your hair in a turban, and exit the shower.

You look down at the pile of your nasty clothes, there's no way in hell you're putting them back on. But naturally, you didn't find anything before you jumped in the shower, you couldn't think straight at the time, only caring about getting clean. You sigh, removing the towel from your head and onto your body, fastening it as well as you could, as you left the bathroom.

You leave behind faint wet footprints on the wooden floorboards as you figure out what room would have spare clothes. You snap your head around suddenly as you hear loud bangs from down the corridor. You start to back away slowly, the floorboards creaking underneath you, when suddenly the loud bangs stop. You freeze, looking around trying to find anything to use as a weapon. You were a few steps away from the bathroom where you left half a pool cue.

You would have to move eventually, so you carefully back up, reaching for the stake. You turn around slowly and grab it. You exhale slowly, relief flooding over you. You turn back around and Frank is looming over you.

"Jesus Christ Frank, you scared the shit out of me, what the fuck".

"Where the fuck have you been?", he looks you up and down, your wet hair covering your eyes, water droplets trickling down from the tips of your hair onto your chest. Frank tries hard to not say anything inappropriate, something else clearly on his mind. "Nevermind, we have to go, I have an idea".

He grabs your wrist and slams into the door for the dance studio you and everyone found earlier on in the night.

*

You and the team decided to tour the house and claim first dibs on the bedrooms. The handle for this room was a little stuck, so Peter took over and slammed his hip into the door. It finally gave way, Peter essentially tumbling into the room. You look around and see a room full of mirrors. Everywhere but the floor.

"Woah. Kinky", you say out loud, you think everyone else is probably thinking the same.

"Relax, it's probably a dance studio thing", Sammy explains.

You look around the practically empty room, seems Sammy was right, since there's no unassuming furnishings here, an odd chair, some mats and a pair of ballet shoes scattered on the floor.

*

Frank slams the door of the dance studio shut, the room instantly going pitch black. You both fumble around for a light switch. You can barely see your own hand in front of your face. Frank finds the switch and the florescent lights flicker to life.

You look up and notice the lights are built in with the mirrors seamlessly, it's very impressive, clearly the family was loaded with money.

You double take as you look to the ceiling. You could see your reflection... but not Frank's. You look back towards the light switch and see Frank hasn't moved from his spot. He furrows his eyebrows, clearly noticing something is wrong as your head tilts back up towards the ceiling.

Frank realises, and starts to chuckle. Your heart sinks. You curse yourself as you clutch at the knot in your towel. You look back towards Frank and inch towards the door.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you"

You start to shout for Joey.

Frank chuckles again, "Joey's dead."

"What do you want from me?"

"Relax, I've got everything I've ever wanted, I mean look at me", Frank bares his deliciously sharp teeth. "I just want to have a little fun. I mean, look at you, parading around the house in nothing but a towel. I've seen the way you looked at me tonight, the anger in your face every time I flirted with Joey?"

A tear runs down your face. It could have been mistaken for a drop of water from your hair but it doesn't elude Frank. He wipes it away with his thumb, then drags it along his bottom lip.

He leans down towards your ear, "I can even smell it on you. The arousal." Your body shivers at his voice. His fingers trace up your arms, leaving goosebumps behind. "I know how to push all your little buttons", his hand hovers over your neck, "How to drive you wild". Your breath catches in your lungs as Frank starts to dip his hand further down your chest, playing at where your towel starts. "So what do you say?"

You pull Frank's head towards you, so you can look in his eyes, you see his bright blue eyes, somehow even brighter now, as well as truth hiding behind them. You think back to the instant crush on Frank you had, and even further back to the crushes of various vampires you've had your entire life. Honestly, is this everything you've ever wanted too? Even if it was totally wrong? So wrong it felt...right?

Your eyes dart between Frank's eyes and lips, "Yes".

Frank smiles and kisses you passionately on the lips. The force of him on top of you pushes you back into a mirror, shattering it. But neither of you care as Frank moans into your kiss. You start to undo the knot in your towel as it falls to the floor.

Frank's hands trace down your now naked body, squeezing at your breasts. He licks up the water droplets on your body, then rolls his tongue around your nipple. He looks at you, a little mischief in his gaze. He rolls his eyes as he slowly bites down into your breast. You wince at first, forehead furrowing, but then you start to relax, the pleasure starting to drown out the pain as Frank continues to play with your nipple on his tongue, as he sucks and moans, draining you of your blood supply, slowly.

You look up at the mirrored ceiling and only see you, a line of blood trickling down your chest. Your hand touches the other breast, nipple between your thumb and index finger.

Frank licks the strip of blood on your chest, not wanting to waste a drop. He continues further down and starts to lap at your clit.

Frank ends up moaning more than you, he's not sure if the taste of your arousal or your blood is sweeter. He laps you up like a man starved, holding tightly onto your hips. His tongue dips in and out of you as you hold his head into place, grinding yourself on him. Frank moves your legs onto his shoulders as he pushes his tongue further into you.

You start to feel yourself close to orgasm and look up again, seeing your legs seemingly hover in mid air. The spectacle tips you over the edge. Frank looks up and notices you looking up into the mirrors and smirks.

"Kinky fucker, I love it"

He pulls you towards the centre of the room and lays down a dance mat as a cushion. He wants to push you down onto it, but you're desperate to ride him after riding his face. You shake your head and push his shoulder down, giving him a hint that he's the one that should be on the floor.

He begrudgingly lies down, looking at you, studying what your next move will be. You undo his belt and yank his trousers and underwear down, freeing his cock.

He's definitely bigger than average, which figures considering his big dick energy in real life. You start to swipe him between your folds as you sink onto him in one slow motion. You can feel him teasing against your cervix as you start to grind your hips. His dick pushing in and out of you. Frank's gaze dotting between you and the ceiling. You look up and notice yourself too, your chest bouncing up and down.

You grab Frank's hands to hold your chest in place as you move your hand to your clit. You circle at the bundle of nerves as you continue to push into Frank when your second orgasm rushes over you. Your back arches as your body tenses, pulsing around Frank's dick. He rolls his eyes in pleasure feeling you squeeze around him, swearing under his breath.

He flips you over before you can even comprehend what just happened. He is still fully inside you and thrusts into you. He grabs onto the floor for leverage to get himself impossibly deeper inside you. The floorboards start to creak under Frank's strength. He stops only for a moment as he lifts your legs over his shoulders, looking up as he continues to push into you. You look up and can see your folds spread open. You start to glance down but Frank stops you by grabbing your neck, forcing you to look back up.

He slams into you a few more times, his body tenses up as he reaches his climax. You can feel him start to unload into you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you start to reach a climax of your own from the loss of oxygen.

Your walls clench around him, milking him for all of his seed. You can see it start to leak out of you in the mirror, the lewd spectacle of you fucking nothingness only sends you deeper into your orgasm. You gasp as your arch your back, your ankles locking around his waist, holding Frank into place, as he does a few more thrusts into you to fully insert all of his cum inside you.

Sweat trickles down his forehead as he rocks back on his knees, gasping for breath. No words are exchanged between the two of you, you're both too enamoured with each other that you're already know what the other one is going to say.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

That Wresting Moment: The Wrestling Betrayal - T-World & Roberto v Red Redemption (ukwrestlinghub.com)

What is it about a wrestling betrayal that makes it so compelling? It's the perfect blend of the ruthless intensity of a double team and the raw emotion of infidelity. This combination elevates an ordinary match to a whole new level. Betraying your wrestling partner is like a backhand to your most vulnerable area, adding a dramatic twist that leaves a lasting impact.

T-World & Roberto v Red Redemption (ukwrestlinghub.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

The Backstory We start with Team Tim (T-World and Roberto) strutting into the ring.  Tim has arranged for a fair match against Red while at the same time he intends to put on a show for his protégé. In his own words he proclaims, I want to show him a real champ against the pretender! 

Roberto holding the ropes open for his mentor ... for now.

But first, let's all take in Tim and his world:

Tim is thinking to himself, Can you believe this guy?!

Cocky Tim's like - Well are we going to do this or what? 

The Action

If you're looking for fast and furious wrestling action, well I hate to disappoint but look elsewhere as this is as one-sided as things can get.  Now while it may take some imagination from the audience to make this whole scene work, I ask you, what great pro wrestling doesn't require that?

Red asks both men to flex and turn their backs to him and being the arrogant, cocky studs they are, they comply ... big mistake!

How do you take down two young studs at once? By using their vanity against them!

Tim: Don't give up ... Don't give up [Roberto]

Tim pleading with Roberto not to submit while his young protégé slowly succumbs...

Soon Tim is down on the mat and Roberto is looking around for someone else to look up to. 

The Moment 

We all knew this was coming, but witnessing Tim's betrayal in real-time is our moment. The look of agony mixed with the groans of defeat is what makes this match unforgettable. Roberto once looked up to Tim as his pack leader, but now finds himself in awe of another man.

Tim: What [cough] are [cough] you doing?

Tim seeing stars and regretting his partner choices. 

Taking out all your aggression on your former mentor

Adding insult to injury, our heels pull in the championship belt to mock poor Tim.  The man has lost everything and needs to be reminded of what he could've had.  

Red: Who's the Champ?  Tim: ... 

Red: Come on, whos the Champ? Tim: You ... are ... 

Our last scene has a wobbly Tim drug to his feet before finally being put out of his misery.  

Besides the raw emotion of the betrayal, there's just something about the infidelity, the transformation of Tim into some wrestling cuck that makes this moment so great.  He entered the ring as a team but leaves without the championship belt and minus a partner. 

[heliads]

IMAGINE

mordern au!newt whos readers classmate and hes like a nerd etc and reader just fell for him because of how cute he is and like they sit next to eachother in some class and reader keeps catching newt whos staring at them and its because he wants to ask them out ? HEBFISNIDNFI i hope this makes sense and i hope you have an amazing day🥰

happy birthday anon!!!!!

masterlist

There is a boy in the corner of this room, and he is– he is looking at you. Yes, you’re sure of it now, even though he glanced away as soon as your eyes met. He wasn’t expecting you to notice, which is silly, because you’ve noticed almost everything about Newt since the moment he first showed up in one of your classes. 

The only thing you haven’t noticed about him is all the times you haven’t caught him staring, and how he smiles when he knows you won’t be able to question him for it. Similarly, when Newt hastily turns his head and pretends that he’s been studying the board at the front of the classroom this whole time, he misses how long your eyes linger on him instead. Almost as long as his, maybe. Shame that neither of you will do a thing about it.

You don’t think you’re staring for the same reasons, though. You only look at Newt because he’s already looking at you. Newt must have a different motive for getting distracted by you so often, but he’s not likely to breathe a word of it to you. Until that impossible day, though, when Newt finally manages to get over himself and finally confesses something, you’ll keep looking back at him, wondering what all of this is about, and never, ever knowing.

You can’t hold too much of a grudge against him for looking away, nor for rushing out of the classroom without a word more than hello or goodbye or the occasional sorry when he brushes against you in the hallway. That’s not personal, that’s just how Newt is with everybody.

Newt’s quiet, you know. Doesn’t talk to a whole lot of people if he can help it. Most of the time, he’s perfectly content to sit by himself or walk alone to class, not needing anyone around him. He brushes off eye contact like dust from a faded photograph, not straying to orbit around the popular circles like everyone else in this school. The only exceptions are the small and select group of friends he likes to keep around, and then– well, then there’s you, but that feels different, somehow.

You know of Newt’s friends, they’re all good people. The kind of good people that you’d expect someone like Newt to hang out with. There’s Alby, tall and strong and ever-present in student leadership organizations. He keeps trying to get Newt to run with him in various elections. Usually Newt’s too good of a sport to say no, but the blond boy would much rather fade into the background under more secretarial roles as opposed to vocal vice presidencies. You’d know, you’ve seen him.

Minho’s a ton of fun, too. No one can crush the student athlete grind like him. He’s captain of the varsity cross country team, and will happily swear to anyone around that he’s the fastest one by far. Newt used to run with him, but there was an injury and a lot of crushed dreams and no one likes to talk about it much. It’s surprising how quickly people can move on.

Thomas is new, just switched over to your school a few weeks ago. He’s got this freaky sort of determination that makes you want to stand and watch while he tears up everything you’ve ever known. You’re all sort of fascinated by him, and you have no doubt that if there’s anyone capable of acing the SAT and making it far enough out of here to see the walls of an Ivy League, it would be him.

The others are just as fun. Teresa’s new too, although she usually keeps to herself. Thomas knows her the best. Frypan, president of the school cooking club, can usually be seen proffering boxes of freshly baked delicacies to his friends. They’re all good kids, the lot of them. Even Chuck, who might have been someone’s younger brother or babysitting victim or just some kid they picked up. He’s years younger than any of them and goes to the local elementary school, but he’s still there half the time you see them hanging out together.

Of all of the friends, though, Newt is the enigma you’d most like to decipher. He’s quiet, for one thing, even despite the fact that he’s in such a joyful friend group. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for, maybe because he’s too modest to brag as much as anyone else.

And, for another thing, he’s cute. Terribly charming. Utterly impossible to ignore. He’s been in a handful of your classes for years now, and you’ve never been able to muster up the courage to have a conversation about more than classwork. Usually, he’s just on the other side of the room, working on the work from your very same lecture, and yet you can’t seem to say what you really want to him.

That might change this year, though. He’s in your history class, and the teacher has given you the best blessing any educational faculty member can provide and seated you right next to him. The desks in that room are arranged in pairs, separate from everyone else save one person, and you are with Newt. It’s absolutely lovely.

So, yes, you can stare at him in math, as you’re doing right now, but the second that bell rings, you can take your time getting to history next period, because he will be there waiting for you, and he will smile up at you, and everything, everything, will be alright.

Only– when you get to class, there’s someone in your seat. It’s not a case of someone who forgot where their assigned seat was halfway through the year. In fact, this misplaced student isn’t even in your class. This is Thomas, who should be across the hall, but isn’t.

Apparently he’s run in to urge Newt to do something. You try to hear more as you drift closer, but just when you’re within hearing range, Newt’s eyes flicker up to you and his entire body seems seized by some sort of terrible panic. He frantically cuts Thomas off, saying something about how he’ll totally do whatever they were talking about.

Thomas looks confused by the sudden change in mood, and glances over his shoulder to see you standing there, waiting for him. He stands up quickly, jokes about stealing your seat, and leaves in a rush. You let your backpack drop to the ground, and look back at the hurriedly departing Thomas. The brown-haired boy flashes Newt an eager thumbs up before leaving, which makes absolutely no sense.

You take your seat at last, peering over at Newt for some kind of explanation. The blond boy just stares intently at his homework, mumbling something about how he doesn’t know what that was about. It’s obvious that you’re not going to get any answers from him now, so you sigh and grab your books from your bag.

The second you look away, though, you can see Newt cautiously looking back at you out of the corner of your eye, a soft smile slipping over his face when he thinks you won’t notice. You trust Newt that he won’t do anything to embarrass you, so that business with Thomas truly must have been nothing at all.

Still, you’re curious, but Newt behaves pretty much the same throughout the class. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole time, waiting for him to slip up and say something, but no dice. He looks a little uneasy, but it doesn’t seem like anything major. 

When the teacher dismisses the class to work on a packet with your assigned seating partner, you expect Newt to do something, but no. He keeps clearing his throat like he’s going to say a few words, but he seems to lose his nerve every time and fades back into silence or, worse, a discussion of 17th century trading practices as you’re meant to be doing.

You almost think that you’re going to go the whole class without a single thing coming of Thomas’ intrusion when the bell rings, dismissing everyone to their next period. You stand up, starting to shove your books and folders into your backpack once more. Newt stands too, looking gripped by panic.

“Y/N,” he begins, then cuts himself off just as quickly.

“Yeah?” You ask, distracted by the zipper on your backpack, which has chosen this very moment to get stuck.

“Would you– would you like to see a movie with me sometime? There are a few good ones at the theater nearby, if you’d want to do something like that. If you don’t want to, that’s cool, obviously, but I was kind of hoping that–”

Newt’s tripping over himself by now, but you clear his nerves with a single smile. “Newt,” you say, “I would love to go out with you.”

“Really?” He asks, a little ahead of himself. “I mean, yeah, that sounds great. Does Friday work?”

“Friday’s perfect,” you tell him.

“Cool,” he says, “Cool, yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Can’t wait,” you grin.

You don’t think you’d mind standing there a while longer, with Newt looking at you with that radiant smile, but unfortunately you are still in school, and you still have classes to get to. One of your friends calls your name from across the room, irritably wondering why you’re still lingering there. 

You allow yourself a beat longer, then leave at last. Newt is looking at you when you vanish from view, you think, but for once you understand what he’s not saying, what he means the most, and that– well, that is absolutely everything.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[withlove-amber]

Brighter Than the Stars

gibbs x reader

“What’s your perfect way to decompress after work?” Abby asked (Y/N), the youngest member of the team. (Y/N) wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Should she say what she was really thinking? Or maybe something else, out of fear of being judged. But, when (Y/N) joined the team, she quickly realized that Abby doesn’t judge anyone, so she had nothing to fear. With that, she responded with her true answer, “It would have to be stargazing.” “Stargazing, that’s so cool!”, the forensic scientist responded. “Thanks! I know it’s not really an ‘adult’ thing to do, but for me, there’s nothing I like more after work than laying back and watching the stars shine.” “That was the most perfect answer ever, I was just going to say bowling.” Little did they both know, Gibbs was outside Abby’s lab overhearing the whole conversation.

The day went on, the team said their goodnights, and went their separate ways for the night. Right before (Y/N) could unlock her car, Gibbs stopped her and asked, “Do you wanna do somethin’ with me tonight?” “Sure. What do you have in mind?”, the young agent replied. “It’s a surprise, but don’t worry, you’ll love it.” She thought for sure she would be helping work on the boat in his basement (not that he needs help). But when he parked his truck in an old field, she started to wonder if he overheard her conversation with Abby earlier. Her suspicions were confirmed when he said, “Bring the blanket.” 

He opened the door for her, and during the short walk to the bed of his truck, he asked her, “Do you have a favorite star?” “Not really, to be honest, I love them all. Being able to admire the stars just fills me with so much peace.” “How?”, he asked the young agent whom he was starting to fall for. “There’s just something about looking up at the sky and seeing how radiantly they shine.” she replied, unknowingly smiling almost as bright as the stars hundreds of light years away. After he made his way onto the truck bed, he helped her up by gently taking her hand and holding her waist. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t give her butterflies. 

He made a motion for her to lie down, as he did the same. He threw a large blanket on top of them both, and their surroundings felt 10° warmer. They spent the first few minutes lying underneath the starlight in complete silence, just being. He was the first to break the silence, saying, “I remember as a kid staying up for hours in the summertime just to watch the stars. I’d go to bed when the sun’d come up and pretend like I’d been in bed the whole night.” They spent the next several hours talking about fond childhood memories, childhood pets, anything, and everything. He taught her which stars were which, how to navigate the stars, trying to ignore the warm feeling he felt every single time she smiled. She had also tried to ignore the warm feeling she felt every single time he smiled, or any time he had talked about his childhood so fondly. 

After the conversation had started to die down, she let out a yawn, neither of them realizing it was now the middle of the night. In a moment of bravery, she gently laid her head down on his shoulder, claiming him as her pillow for the night. When he didn’t move, she knew she was safe. She always feels safe when she’s with Gibbs. And he always feels safe when he’s with her. “Goodnight (Y/N).” “Goodnight Jethro.” In that moment, he realized not only does he really like it when she uses his name and not just “boss” or “Gibbs”, but he also realized she seemed to fit perfectly in his arms. He spent the next several moments breathing in her scent, which consisted of her perfume and the soft vanilla and lavender from her shampoo. He finally fell asleep holding her close, after kissing her forehead.

They woke up the next morning, as the sun rose over the very same field that was host to countless stars the night before. Then they spent the next several minutes observing each other’s features. She observing every freckle on his face, how his eyes seemed to be much brighter and appear much more blue than they’d ever been, how the soft sunlight made his hair appear brighter and if she looked hard enough, his silver strands of hair seemed to softly glow in the morning sun. He observing how the sun was making her hair appear brighter and softer than it’s ever looked before, how her natural freckles were illuminated by the sun’s soft rays, how plush and smooth her lips look. Being in each other’s cozy embrace made them both think, “I could stay here forever and never want to leave.”

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 2/16

<< previous part

Word count - 2.8k

The nerves were washing over you like a tidal wave as you walked up the steps to the boardroom. You hadn’t felt this anxious since your debut and with no sleep under your belt, you were running purely on caffeine. All night had been filled with staring at the ceiling, running through all the plans the team had discussed with you and which one plan B was or if it was something else entirely. You were aware they had had meetings without you present, and it was these meetings that concerned you, there was no way to know what they had concocted behind closed doors without you to interject.

You were pleasantly surprised to see you weren’t the first one there, Charles was sitting on his phone - Ferrari cap discarded onto the table. The blinds had all been drawn and the overhead lights made it feel like a doctor’s office waiting room. He looked tired, you knew he went out for a few drinks with the other drivers last night so it didn’t phase you.

“Morning.” You said, the driver’s head lifting, a soft smile spreading across his face. “Wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

The smile shifted to an apologetic one. “Mattia just texted me ‘urgent meeting with thirty at 8:30’, so if you’re going to ask… I have no idea either.”

As you circled the table to sit beside him, he rose from his chair and pulled you into a hug. “Are you feeling any better today?”

You sunk into his arms, enjoying what would probably be one of your last moments of peace before the meeting. In the 3 seasons you’d been together now, the bond you shared with Charles was something you truly cherished. Despite your identity being a secret, he always tried to make sure to spend time with you whenever he could - bringing coffees to your driver room or hiding with you for a little while. He made you feel safe, so you were glad he was here.

“Not fantastic but I kind of apologised to Lewis but he just thought I was some random staff so didn’t quite have the impact I’d been hoping for.” You chuckled sadly, earning a gentle squeeze from your friend. “I just… the winter break is very much needed.”

“Perfect. You’re both already here.”

You watched as Mattia stepped into the room, followed closely by the rest of Team Thirty. This group had remained practically unchanged since you’d joined, only gaining Charles and a few others after you’d won your first championship- becoming the youngest WDC made keeping your identity a secret a whole extra task for them. Everyone held tablets and laptops as they sat around the table, you and Charles remaining alone on your side of the table.

“Can we just get right into it?” You said, picking at the skin around your fingers. “Which one is it? Are you gonna sub me out for a couple races to throw them off?”

They all exchanged glances before Mattia cleared his throat. “Well, plan B is actually something new we came up with… when Charles joined the team.”

Both of you frowned simultaneously, sparing a moment to glance at each other before Charles decided to speak up. “When… I joined?”

“Yes.” Mattia sat forward a little in his seat. “It wasn’t much of a possibility with Sebastian due to the age gap but you two… this could definitely work.”

“What could work? What are you talking about?”

Instead of saying anything else, Mattia pulled two stacks of paper out of his bag and slid them in front of you both. “We would like the two of you to pretend to be in a relationship because there’s no way that Charles’ girlfriend would be our mystery driver.”

You stared wide-eyes at the contract in front of you, detailing what the upcoming season would entail for you both. You would remain as a staff member for Ferrari but instead of being restricted where you could travel and with who - they had planned a full itinerary for the winter break. When and where you’d be with Charles, every day of every month. They had even crafted up mock instagram posts and stories for the two of you to post.

“The winter break provides us with the perfect opportunity to orchestrate a soft launch.” The social media manager weighed in. “You’ll both be posting from the same locations, glimpses of each other and then at the start of the reason you can announce the relationship by coming into the paddock together.”

“I’m… I’m not sure how I feel about this.” You admitted. “Charles shouldn’t be forced to date me - he’s a young, handsome guy. He shouldn’t be tied down by this fake commitment if-”

He cleared his throat, bringing your attention from Mattia and the team to him. “If it’ll help you, y/n. I’d do it… hey, could be fun right?”

Usually his smile would put you at ease but you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Charles’ knew he had ulterior motives but getting to spend time with you, in public? That wasn’t something he was just going to pass up on. He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and you returned his smile cautiously.

“Okay, but if Charles wants out at any point-”

“We’ll end the contract, but it will be under an NDA so you cannot say it was fake. We can just script it as a mutual, friendly breakup.” The social media manager spoke up again, clearly very proud of himself for crafting this plan. “And you and Charles are friends, right? So hopefully physical affection like hand holding in public or a kiss on the cheek will be easy to pass off as something more than platonic.”

It was then when the team left you and Charles to read the contract and details of the relationship. Whilst you weren't a Monaco native, you had come from money - it was one of the reasons, alongside your talent, you were able to land your seat whilst not only being a woman but being so young. You had competitively raced in GP3 and F2 respectively before ‘dropping off the face of the paddock’ to become a member of the Ferrari staff - it was an excuse far too many people bought too easily.

So, it wasn’t much of a surprise you’d be spending a large chunk of the break in Monaco, both of you had a place there so they wouldn’t have to splash on the accommodation but there was also a trip to Bali pencilled in towards the end before you’d have to return to Maranello for pre-season training.

“They’re really going all out with this.” The Monegasque driver spoke first. “...Are you sure you're okay doing this? Because, I agreed to it because I want to help you out but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with it either y/n.”

“I mean, it’s definitely better than some of the other plans they come up with. And hey, it means I get to spend more time with you and I might actually get to know some of the people I’m racing against, even if it is as your girlfriend.” You smiled softly. “I can’t thank you enough for having my back through all of this. I was really scared when Seb told me he was leaving but I’m glad it was you who came next.”

His cheeks flushed a little and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t ever imagine how difficult it was to be Thirty but when I found out you were my age and a girl? I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t support you.”

You lent into his side and he draped his arm across his shoulder. When you’d first met, he hadn’t been as protective - because as Thirty, you were fearless, but with the constant fear of exposure you were a lot shyer beneath the helmet so overtime Charles found himself wanting to watch over you.

“If we’re going to spend time with the others, I should probably give you some warnings.” He chuckled a little, as you sat back up to read yours and Charles’ ‘backstory’.

“Oh yeah?” You raised a curious brow. “They that bad?”

“No it’s not that. Pierre is a massive gossip, lives for it. So anything that’s a little juicy he’s all over it… so we’ve got to be extra careful around him.” He explained. “Like, have you ever seen those gossip accounts? He’s all over them. He also loves Thirty speculation.”

You lent back in your chair and tilted your head. “Has he ever been close?”

“Not even slightly.” He smirked. “He’s a big fan of the theory that you’re Barrichello. Or like, just a bunch of different drivers.”

“That would be impossible to keep secret, one of them would spill for sure.” You reached across the table to grab a pen. “I do enjoy reading twitter theories, I won’t lie. But, now that there’s a larger female audience, there’s been a lot more Thirty is a Woman theories being thrown around.”

Charles flicked through his papers to find the dotted lines that had been marked for him. “Your name ever cropped up?”

“Once or twice. But I was never an F2 champion or anything so it gets brushed off pretty quickly.” You shrugged. “Someone did a full twitter thread on it being me and I cannot wait for the day that I get to show them that they were right.”

“That’s crazy.”

Before the two of you could share any more words, the rest of the team rejoined - the scraping of chairs against the floor and all eyes landing back on the pair of you really made it sink in what you were about to agree to.

“Do we have any questions?” Mattia asked, passing Charles a pen as the team lawyers came and stood either side of you both to make sure you signed where you needed to.

“…Just one, for how long?”

The team principal forced a smile. “As long as needed. I know you think you’re ready to be unmasked, y/n, but that’s not what is best for the team right now. We’re focusing on getting our groove back and we don’t need the uproar of having a female driver detract from that. Understood?”

Charles frowned, watching the way your shoulders slumped a little. That didn’t seem fair.

“Yes sir.”

“Okay, good. Now, please sign.”

Both of you scribbled your signatures on the contracts, and after crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, Mattia stood up and shook each of your hands. “Congrats. You make a very sweet couple.”

Charles dared to risk a glance at you and saw your cheeks had flushed a pretty pink, a colour he’d paint murals with if he could. It was beautiful. You threw him a shy smile as you grabbed your jacket and bag from the chair beside you. As everyone filtered out of the room, you noticed the Monegasque hanging back.

“Everything okay, Charl?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I am, it’s just properly sinking in now…”

“It’s not too late to back out.” You said, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. “I meant what I said.”

“No it’s not that. I just feel a little guilty about my part in keeping you hidden away, y/n. I think they should be proud to not only have a woman on the team but the world’s youngest champion.” He sighed softly, his blue eyes intense as he studied you. “I hope that they realise that soon.”

“Thank you. Just so you know, I’m going to tell Sebastian… he’s signed an NDA previously so I trust him.”

Charles smiled. “I definitely think you should. You deserve at least that.”

You opened your arms and he immediately wrapped his around you. “See you later?”

“My car is at the lot by the heliport. Let me drive you home when we get back to Monaco?” He hummed, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Seen as you are my girlfriend now and all.”

Your heart skipped a beat, girlfriend. “Yeah, that would be nice, thank you.”

It was always protocol for you to hang around the weekend HQ a little longer than anyone else just in case someone had leaked the timings of a Team Thirty meeting and they didn’t want you being seen with the rest of them. Instead, you said goodbye to Charles and slipped into a small corner office to ring Sebastian. Charles’ voice continued to ring in your ear.

Girlfriend.

You were Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend. You knew it was fake but it still seemed crazy to you - you had known of him for years, and you had seen the girls he had dated before. You had to admit that you were nervous, you were built like an F1 driver - not a stereotypical influencer.

After dialling Seb’s number, you lent back against the wall of the office - going back to nibble on the skin around your fingers that you had started to pick at while in the meeting.

“Hey kid, how did it go?” His voice instantly put you at ease. Anything that was wrong, Seb could always give you the right advice. You were never sure when he got so wise but you were glad he did.

“So, uhm, plan B was something else entirely.”

“Oh?”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah…”

“Y/n, what’s going on? You’re making me worried.” You could practically see the concerned Dad look on his face when you told him about the things that they did with Thirty.

“Charles and I are fake dating.”

The pause felt like a lifetime, it was almost as if you could hear Sebastian processing the words you had just said. It wasn’t like any of the plans they had come up with while he was still with the team and it was definitely in the top 3 of the most outlandish ideas that he had heard - and one of those ideas was to get you to start wearing stilts.

“I’m… wow, and Charles is okay with this?” He finally spoke.

“Yeah, he’s on board and as soon as he decides he’s had enough - it’s over.”

He paused again. “And are you on board? Because I know you, y/n, I know how long you’ve wanted to stop with the whole faceless thing…”

He was right, but you weren’t ready to fully admit it. “It’s not the right time yet. I want to focus on getting my third title and I can’t do that if they’re all cracking down on me.”

“Okay. Well, promise you’ll keep me in the loop? This isn’t just any old media routine, I don’t want you to get hurt if Charles or anyone else does something stupid… you’re about to be a WAG, y/n… that isn’t easy.”

“Oh because you’re an expert?” You teased.

“I’m not joking, y/n. People online can be really nasty, especially to WAGs.” He scolded lightly. “Just protect yourself okay?”

You sighed softly. “I’ll do my best. I’m going to Monaco tomorrow, let me know if you’ve got any time free for us to catch up properly? I’m sure I can convince them to let me add it to the itinerary they’ve made for us.”

“Of course.”

You both said your goodbyes and it was finally time for you to leave the motorhome and get back to the hotel to pack. Aside from Charles and yourself, you weren’t really expecting to see many drivers here the morning after the final race of the season - most opting to head straight home. The paddock was mostly full of staff packing up, ready to head back to their HQs but you couldn’t help but notice that Pierre was lurking around, a little too close to the headquarters with Charles, clearly hoping to get a glimpse of Thirty when they came out of the meeting. You could see him pointing to almost every man who came out of the building but when his eyes landed on you, his gaze simply flickered over you before asking about someone else.

Charles gave you a knowing look, Pierre proving just how clueless he really was. You fought back a smile and made your way back to the car park - walking passed them both without a word. The Monegasque didn’t miss the way Pierre looked at you once again, not as a potential Thirty but the same way he looked at any pretty girl in the paddock. Clueless.

“You guys have some attractive staff, you should introduce me.” He hummed.

The younger driver rolled his eyes. “I don’t think she’d be interested.”

“And you know that, how?” Pierre scoffed.

Charles simply shrugged. “Just have a feeling.”

He watched as you scanned your pass to leave the paddock, glancing back over your shoulder one final time and risking a smile at him. The recognisable flutters in his stomach reminded him of just how screwed he was - he needed to be professional, this was a contracted relationship.

But it was just a matter of time before his true feelings came to the surface, Charles just hoped that when that happened, maybe… just maybe… you’d feel the same too.

*********************************************

Next part >>>

Oooh drama. Hope you all enjoyed ❤️

Thank u to @carsgonyoom and @danielfuckingricciardo for letting me bounce ideas off of you and proof-reading! Love you both x

[traiteursroe]

Band of Brothers reaction to you playing a sport

This is literally entirely self indulgent need for validation as a self proclaimed sports girlie, so here we go…

Lewis Nixon

- Is so excited actually

- Will scream cheer so loud it scares the people around him

- Lots of swearing

- Sits super close to see the action, munching on popcorn the whole time

- Heckles the other team 💀

- Definitely brags about you to people

Carwood Lipton

- An expert at pep talks

- Like he’s with you before hand just pumping you up

- Not loud celebrations, but lots of grinning and clapping

- Tries to act stoic but is really nervous every game

- Stoicism goes away when you win and he cheers for you

- You make eye contact and grin after you win

- Lots of locker room hugs 🥰

Joe Toye

- So fucking loud

- Takes every game super seriously, even if it’s just pre-season or an exhibition

- Probably has superstitions 😭😭

- Loud and obnoxious clapping

- Big on trash talk

- Probably looks up stuff about the other team to be better at trash talk lmao

- Has all the merch

Joe Liebgott

- Doesn’t really get it at first

- Until you finally convince him to go and it’s electric

- Like he likes the intense atmosphere

- And seeing you at there in your UNIFORM???

- He literally falls in love all over again

- Thinks it’s so hot 🥵

- Cusses out people who even criticize your game a little bit

Dick Winters

- bro is so supportive

- Has no idea what is going on, but cheers when everyone else is

- Tries to learn as much as possible

- Checks out all the library books and asks so many questions

- By the third game he’s literally an expert

- Just wants to see you happy, and if doing this does that, he’s fully for it

- Only time he ever gets super excited about it is when you win a close game

Bill Guarnere

- Takes it even more seriously than Joe Toye

- He’s from Philly, what do you expect?

- Almost got kicked out once for fighting with a fan of the opposite team

- Does that thing where he stands up really fast and spills food all over himself 😭

- Cusses out the refs

- Almost storms the field/*insert anything here* after you win a big game

George Luz

- Has exactly one piece of merch he wears to every game

- Pretends he’s the announcer

- He’s actually really good at it, like someone get him up into the commentators box lmao

- Every time something big happens he figures out a way to make it about you

- Probably storms the locker room after the game to party with the team 💀

Babe Heffron

- Dude is also from Philly like bfr

- Wears every piece of merchandise he can get his hands on all at once

- “THATS MY BABY!!!” 🫶✨

- Permanently standing

- He’s too excited to sit down

- Tries to be a coach, calling out plays from the stands

- One time it actually works

- He never stops bragging about it

Eugene Roe

- Gets surprisingly animated

- Tries to sit in the back but your friends force him to sit closer

- Frustrated and/or nervous French swearing

- When it’s a close game he literally cannot look, it’s so bad 😭

- Literally at every game no matter where it is, he’s insane

- Always on the look out for any kind of injury

- Loves seeing you so happy and excited after a win

[velvees-archive]

Spirit of Justice spoilers (6-4)!

i went a full game without thinking too deeply about it, but now that we’re here…

simon blackquill is kind of…

some 6-4 reactions under the cut

i haven’t finished the case yet but it is so silly and fun! a great breath of fresh air after 6-3 (which was harder than i expected it to be /pos).

looking back at the series, it’s pretty funny how far we’ve come with attorneys’ attempts at projecting prosecutors’ and defense’s adversarial relationships in court. we went from edgeworth trying to cover up having allied w the defense in 3-5 to simon jumping from the gallery to athena’s aid, right in front of the judge in 6-4. does someone wanna call that out or…?

nobody? okay sure.

the whole balloon thing w geiru gave me a good chuckle. good ol’ udgey.

really really loving the banter between simon and athena. it’s pretty clear he dotes on her. her respect for him is easy to see as well. nahyuta fits really well into this dynamic. i’m liking him tbh!

ok, back to the case.

WHY IS HE SO SASSY LMFAO

i love when you think a character is gonna be serious (talking first impressions during DD) and they end up being either a cringefailure or a boyloser, sometimes both.

i’m also really happy with how DD and SOJ have emphasized the diff skill levels between WAA’s lawyers. some of the contradictions athena can’t pin right away are things i imagine apollo or phoenix could spot. now that the initial shock of athena’s gimmick has worn off, i actually don’t mind it. athena has really grown on me. you can tell she’s quite young, so props to SOJ’s writing team for that.

^ vid of simon smacking nahyuta’s prayer beads away as nahyuta attempts to “punish” athena

okay but dude he’s actually so attractive wtf.

i think it’s bc his interjection gives the vibe of an older brother making fun of their sibling but defending them the moment someone else takes it too far bc dude…why is he….he’s…..

simon blackquill, i owe you an apology. i wasn’t really familiar w your game

i don’t think there’s much they can do to ruin this case for me but i will update if something shocking occurs! rly hoping athena has a moment where her brainpower eclipses both simon’s and nahyuta’s, just to stick it to these losers

ok i’m coming back to edit this post as i’m abt wrapping up the case…

HELLO? what are we doing???? whaaaat are we doing……?

finally we get some freaks around here?? for all intents and purposes i am going to pretend he’s grabbing me and not the character i’m playing as bc gooning over simon blackquill is my natural state atp.

[pensat-i-fet]

Trick...and treat her well (Pedri x Reader) / Halloween '23

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After another long day at uni, you just wanted to go home and sleep. Thankfully, the following day was a bank holiday, so you knew you could just sleep in and sort of do nothing all day. But your boyfriend had other plans. Plans that interrupted your own plans.

“What are you doing in bed? Come on! Let’s get ready”, said Pedri, in a too loud voice, when he got to the room. You usually liked how hyper and excited he got by the smallest of things but not at that exact moment.

“Ready for what?”

“It’s Halloween!”

“Pedro, we live in Spain, not America. No one cares about Halloween around here”, you rolled your eyes and laid back down in bed.

“But we talked about going to that party…do you not want to go? I bought us the costumes and everything”.

It was so rare for him to want to go to something like a party that you felt bad saying no. His mood got so much better after being back in training with the team too, and he wanted to celebrate. So you got up and put the costume on, even though you kind of hated it, and you both left for the party.

But it was impossible to concentrate on having fun. Your mind was somewhere else. In all the classes you had to go to, the assignments you had to get done, …it was a bit overwhelming at the moment. People were drinking and that always made your anxiety worse. You didn’t like how hard it was to guess what a drunk person could do next. And when a few of them bumped into you, that feeling only got worse.

“Trick or treat?”, screamed Pedri, making you jump.

“Treat?”

“Here”, he said, offering a bag of sweets and pecking your lips. “Double treat. Just for you”.

You smiled at him but the smile was soon gone when you checked the time and saw how early it was. You had only been there for twenty minutes but it felt like hours.

The only good thing about the party was that Pedri stayed with you the whole time. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone somewhere where there were so many people. You didn’t know who many of them were either. And, even though Pedri was busy chatting and laughing with people, he knew you well. So he soon noticed there was something wrong.

“You ok?”

“Sure”, you answered, trying to smile.

“You don’t look ok. Are you not feeling well or something? Is that why you went to bed earlier?”

“Kind of. But you’re having fun so forget it”.

“No, I’m not having fun if you aren’t too”.

Despite appreciating his kindness, you also felt bad about his reaction. Your mood was not only annoying you, but it was now going to annoy him too. Great. It only made you feel worse about yourself.

“Let’s go home”.

“Pedri, we don’t have to…”.

“We do. I don’t even like parties anyway. You know that”.

“But…”.

“Shh”, he said, placing his index finger on your lips. “You come first always. Let’s go”.

It didn’t take you long to get back home and Pedri told you to go to the sofa and wait for him. He was going to make a drink for you.

“Trick or treat?”, he asked again, this time without yelling.

“Can I have both?”

“Greedy”, he laughed. “You can have this cup of tea I made for you and all these sweets I took from the party”.

“Oh my God”, you said, laughing too. “That’s so much. It’ll take me a week to eat all of it”.

“I might help you finish it”.

“Is this how American kids feel after trick or treating? I don’t even know what to eat first”. “I guess. My only source for it is the movies I watched. And the videos where parents pretended they ate all their sweets”.

“Those videos are horrible. So cruel”.

Pedri sat down next to you and brought you closer to him before turning the TV on and finding the channel you liked. More Buffy reruns were on. Perfect.

“So…wanna talk about it?”

You sighed. Did you want to talk about it? Maybe. But it wasn’t easy to put into words things you didn’t fully understand.

“I don’t know. It’s just…life, I guess. Uni kicking my ass and I just feel very defeated sometimes”.

“Did something in particular happen? Or is it just a general thing?”

“General, I think”.

“That’s…well”, he laughed. “I don’t know if better or worse. I guess if it was just one problem, we could try to fix it but if it’s just a general thing, it’s a bit harder”.

“I suppose it is like that, yeah”.

“What can I do to help?”

You looked at him and smiled immediately. He was always so eager to help. “You’re doing well so far. But I guess just be there when I need you. Talking is helping me right now. And, I don’t know, maybe you could pamper me a bit”.

“So it’s all just an excuse to be treated like a princess, got it”, he joked and your smile became wider.

“I can’t fool you, can’t I?”