#and then when she finally trust them and feels a part of the team and family
Text
The Mail Service Mess
Written for Hermit-a-day-May, day 11: Pearlypop!
Wc: 1013
Ao3: Here!
Pearl looked in pride at the board displaying the names of hermits. Yet again one more hermit with a new mailbox. Soon, the whole server would have one! The board was already starting to look bright.
With a smile on her face, she adjusted her messenger bag and turned around.
Chaos.
The post office was littered with shulker boxes in item form. Across the floor, her desk, everywhere. They kept pouring down in a stream like a leaky tap.
She stood in shock for a moment, mouth agape, before her cleaning lady instincts kicked in.
She’d already been subject to something like this before.
Without even thinking about it, she started picking the boxes. They quickly filled her inventory and she started stuffing them into her bag, but it somehow wasn’t enough. Just how many shulkers were there? When she thought she’d gotten everything and nothing would despawn, a new set poured in.
“Come on, come on,” she said as she looked for an empty chest to use. “There we go!”
Her heart was racing and her body shook with adrenaline as the fear of items despawning set in.
The worst part was, she wouldn’t be able to tell if anything despawned, or if they had already started despawning before she turned around. Just how long ago did the mess start for it to get that bad? What were these people even sending?
She felt the temptation to peak into at least one of the shulkers, to know what started this mess, but no. She contained herself. It wouldn’t be professional of her, and she had to deal with this mess, anyway.
Soon, the shulkers stopped raining. Finally. She sighed, but it wasn’t over yet. It wouldn’t be until all the boxes were well taken care of.
The second double chest filled up and she scrambled for wood for a new one.
Two and a half.
Two double chests of mail and a half.
She really wasn’t looking forward to sorting all of these and resending those with clear addressees. No one had warned her this could happen. Not Etho nor Tango. Now she wished there was a way to put the stamps directly on the shulkers and still have the system functional. It would make… all of this much easier.
What were even the normal procedures for events like this? Should she send a message telling the hermits to reclaim all their lost packages — both those they expected to receive and those they’d sent? How would she know they weren’t lying?
No, she trusted her hermits. It would be fine. And if she caught anyone stepping out of line, they’d receive a big talking to. Her team would back her up if needed, but she could stand her ground.
But first things first, they had a bug to fix before it got worse.
She pulled out her comms and sent Etho a message. He was online.
<PearlescentMoon> Hey Etho!
<PearlescentMoon> I really need your help at the Post Office
<PearlescentMoon> I don’t know what happened
<PearlescentMoon> Please hurry
She pocketed it and set to work.
As she waited for a reply, she prepared two extra double chests for sorting purposes, and took out from the system a first shulker box. Better start sorting: those with clear recipients, those with clear senders, and those with neither.
Despite feeling uneasy, the only way to check for that was by opening the packages.
The first box only had two items: a flower, and a sheet of paper. She tried not to read the contents of the letter, focused instead on checking for a signature, even if it was just an initial.
It was hard not to read the words sprawling all over the page.
‘you make my day x’
She awed and then closed the shulker box. There was nothing that indicated to whom it was addressed or the owner, so she sadly had to place it in the ‘unknown’ chest.
She went on to the second package.
Again, a flower and another sheet of paper.
‘always in my mind x’
Okay, another one of those.
She tentatively reached for the next shulker, feeling trepidation in her gut.
This one had a signed book and a Cleo stamp. Okay, she knew exactly what this was about. She should probably not be returning to Cleo their own mass-produced spam mail, but… might as well.
The next one, a single Mumbo stamp with text written on it.
Definitely from Grian. She didn’t have to check.
Cub’s Horn of the Month Club…
A chestful of valuable items with a signed book, addressing the recipient…
For a moment, Pearl wished it was addressed to her.
“What seems to be the problem?”
Pearl jumped.
“Etho! Don’t do that!”
He shrugged. “You were the one who asked me to come. I was just following your orders.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
He tilted his body and stepped back, hands in the air. “Woah, Postmaster Pearl… looking through someone’s mail? I never would’ve thought that of you.”
Pearl rolled her eyes light-heartedly.
“Look into those chests and you’ll understand the problem,” she said, depositing the package in its proper place.
He stayed dead quiet until she shut the chest.
“Pearl…?”
“Yes, Etho?” she asked sweetly.
“What is this?”
“Oh, the machine broke, is all.” She kept up her light tone. “Shulkers went flying everywhere. These aren’t even meant for us!”
Clear panic colored Etho’s face. His eyes drifted to the collection of chests.
She crossed her arms and tilted her head expectantly.
“That’s… That’s not supposed to happen.”
“So go and get it, then!” She shooed him.
He scrambled, and Pearl slumped. Oh, she was not looking forward to this.
The next shulker she opened had another sheet of paper and a rose.
The little x at the end, the useless mail spam with no way of knowing who sent it, Iskall buying a stack of Joel stamps and probably more since she last checked the stock…
Oh, Iskall…
She closed the box and opened her comms.
<PearlescentMoon> Iskall
<PearlescentMoon> A word
#hermitaday#hermitcraft#hermitfic#pearlescentmoon#hermitcraft season 10#hc s10#postmaster pearl#ethoslab#my writing
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI
Stepdad!Hopper x Reader • age gap (reader is 21, Hop’s in his 40’s) • angst, mutual pining, masturbation mentioned, troubled marriage, Hopper is a pervert wracked with guilt aka my favorite kind of Hopper… 🤪
You wiggled on Hopper’s lap, causing him to stifle a groan. God you were beautiful. So fucking pretty and sweet, using his lap to sit in while you did your makeup at the dresser mirror.
“Thanks for the boost, by the way,” you told him, smiling at his serious reflection in the glass. “I’m too short for this dresser, I swear.” You giggled, patting your cheeks with a rosy blush. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be stretching on my tiptoes just to put my makeup on.”
Hopper swallowed back another groan as you adjusted on his lap. “But with you in this chair, and me on your lap-” You finished slicking your lips with a cherry-flavored gloss, and popped them. “-We make a great team, don’t we?”
Hopper forced a polite smile back at you, struggling internally. He shouldn’t be enjoying this so much, or doing it at all. You were so trusting of him, so naive in many ways. Even though you were an adult now, Hopper was aware of the fact that you had next to no experience with boys. He wasn’t doing anything wrong right now, by letting you sit on his lap…not technically. But because of the feelings he’d secretly had for you, for awhile now, even the most innocent gestures Hopper made toward you felt taboo…
When he’d met your mother, you’d just turned nineteen. And without an older, stable male figure in your life, you became attached to Hopper quickly. After marrying your mother the following year, Hopper hoped you’d finally begin dating, forming relationships with boys your age. But now, at twenty-one years old, you still insisted on designating Hopper the only man in your life.
He hadn’t minded, at first. Not when his relationship with your mother was going well, when she and Hopper were still being intimate together. But things had soured between them over the last six months or so, to the point that now, Hopper couldn’t remember the last time he and his wife had made love. There never seemed to be any interest on her part, leading Hopper to wonder sometimes if perhaps she were having her sexual needs met by another man?
With the tension in his marriage at a peak and its intimacy completely evaporated, Hopper found his desires traveling elsewhere in the home. He hated himself for it, despised the way he came almost daily to the thought of having you…but the woman you’d become was a temptation too great for Hopper to ignore.
Seeing you every morning, moving about the house in just your pajama shorts and a tank top like it was nothing, Hopper realized how disgusting he’d truly become. You obviously trusted him, just as you had for years, enough to prance around him half naked and think nothing of it. This realization only added to Hopper’s guilt, making him hate himself a little more each time he masturbated with your body in mind.
“There,” you said, capping your mascara and placing it on the dresser. “All done. What do you think?” You fanned your fingers around your face and batted your lashes dramatically, smiling at Hopper’s reflection.
“Beautiful,” he replied; and from the almost reverent sincerity in Hopper’s tone, you knew he meant it.
You slid off his lap, his hands immediately moving to your hips to steady you as you dismounted. Hopper rose from the chair, turning aside so you wouldn’t see him discreetly adjust himself in his pants.
He sighed with relief, feeling as if he’d passed some kind of test. “Hey,” he said. “You really do look great, kid. But-.” Hopper moved his finger to boop your powdered nose. “-Who’s all this for, anyway? You gettin’ all dolled up just for the hell of it?”
You glanced down at the floor, a blush warming your cheeks beneath the makeup. “I…uh,” you stammered bashfully. “I have a date.”
Hopper’s eyebrows lifted, his lips parting in surprise. “A date?” he asked, before quickly softening the accidental sharpness in his voice. “Oh. Who’s the lucky guy?”
There was a pause before you answered Hopper, and he found it a bit strange that you didn’t answer him right away. Maybe you were just shy, he wondered? This was the first date Hopper had ever known you to have, in the two years he’d known you. Maybe the situation was so new, you didn’t know how to talk about it casually?
“Uh, just a guy from work,” you explained. “You’d like him, he’s funny. But serious too, when he needs to be.” You bit your glossy bottom lip, chuckling. “He kinda reminds me of you, Hop.”
Your stepdad’s eyebrow quirked curiously, as if he doubted your sincerity. “Hmm,” he muttered. “You meeting this guy somewhere?”
“At the new mall they just built, yeah,” you replied, checking your look again in the mirror. “We’ll probably see a movie, or something.”
Hopper nodded, another polite smile once again fixed onto his face. “Well, be safe,” he told you, and gently squeezed your shoulder before heading for the door.
“Just, one more thing,” Hopper said, lingering in your doorway. “What’s this kid’s name, anyway?”
You froze outwardly, but your mind was scrambling for a response. “Jack,” you blurted. “His name’s Jack. He’s a nice guy, really.”
Hopper’s brow was creased in ‘detective mode,’ a familiar expression for him, but one you rarely saw directed at yourself. He nodded silently as he exited your room, patting the doorframe on his way out. You watched Hopper leave, exhaling the knot of tension you’d been holding.
“Like I said,” he called from the hallway as he walked away. “Be safe.”
Be safe. A sentiment that struck you as both ironic and unnecessary, as you observed your made-up reflection in the mirror…the mirror you could easily access, without having to strain. You hadn’t needed Hopper’s lap to boost you; you wanted him to be there. The innocence you feigned around your stepfather was as fake as your date for the evening, Jack.
The truth, which as always is more complicated than fiction, was that you’d been in love with Hopper for awhile now. You weren’t as naive as he (and your mother) thought you were. What you lacked in actual life experience, you made up for in observing others. And as you began to see problems in your mother and Hopper’s marriage arise, you watched each crack form on the surface with a growing interest.
Although Hopper didn’t realize it, your choosing him as the only man in your life was not an accident. You didn’t want anyone else; you wanted him. Tonight had been a test, to gauge his reaction to you actually having a date for once. And from the way Hopper had reacted, his change of tone, his sudden and deliberate need for details, you were convinced that jealousy was at play in his response.
Reaching for your bag, you checked to make sure you had your car keys and enough cash on you for a movie ticket and some popcorn. You’d go to the mall and see a movie, just as you’d told Hopper, minus a date…
…or at least, you thought you’d be going alone. You didn’t notice, as you exited the driveway and drove through the streets of Hawkins, that another (very familiar) vehicle was discreetly following a few cars behind you.
Hopper wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see, with his own eyes, the boy you’d suddenly, uncharacteristically, made the choice to go out with. The expression ‘know your enemy,’ may have been resting at the back of Hopper’s mind as he followed you to the mall; but more accurately, Hopper was hoping to know his competition…
#stranger things#stranger things smut#jim hopper#hopper smut#jim hopper x you smut#jim hopper x reader smut#hopper fanfic#jim hopper smut#jim hopper stranger things#hopper x reader#jim hopper x reader#jim hopper fanfic#david harbour#stepdad!jim hopper#stepdad!hopper#dilf!hopper#hopper stranger things#hopper x fem reader#jim hopper x fem!reader#hopper x y/n#jim hopper x y/n#jim hopper x you#hopper x you#hopper fic#dilf!jim hopper#stranger things angst#hopper angst#jim hopper angst#perv!jim hopper#perv!hopper
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
How long do you think it took for Lucy to regularly eat meals with Lockwood and George? How many times did she make food for herself and take it back to her room to avoid these new people she didn’t quite trust? How many “family” meals did she avoid before finally joining in and feeling like she belonged?
#lockwood and co#lucy carlyle#i feel like she would only eat family dinner when invited#like if george or lockwood didnt explicitly ask her to join she would just… eat alone#and then when she finally trust them and feels a part of the team and family#then suddenly she realizes shes been eating every meal together with them#and she cant remember when it changed that she belonged#having lucy thoughts at lunch today
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
pierced. pt. 4 | spencer reid.
"Focus here, sweetie."
you can find the other parts on my masterlist.
cw: fem!reader, 18+ content, suggestive as fuck, making out, nipple stuff (my finger slipped), fluff
a/n: this made me feral
He had been gone for weeks.
You hadn’t seen Spencer in almost four weeks after your little date at his desk. Case after case came through and he and his team were sent all over the country. You came to understand that Spencer’s job was hectic, wondering how any of them had social lives at all with how often they were called into work only to disappear for days or weeks at a time.
Spencer had called you a handful of times while he was in Illinois, telling you all about the UnSub they caught while you were half asleep working late at your desk. But after that, it was radio silence from Spencer and you could only assume he was neck deep in work just like you.
You sat at your desk, leaning back in your chair with a loud sigh. You were sure your boss had it out for you, given how you were basically the last one in the office trying to finish up a project. You tried to take it as a compliment that they trusted you to handle these things but god you just wanted to go home, pour a glass of wine, put on a face mask and pretend to have your shit together.
The exhaustion made your eyelids feel heavy and your vision blurry. You let out a tired yawn, attempting to blink away the deep desire to crawl under your desk and nap. The sudden buzz of your phone kept you from nodding off at your computer.
Spence: Are you home?
You: Nah, I’m at work, sorry :(
Spence: Still? Isn’t it a bit late?
You: What can I say, I’m an ass-kisser
Spence: Have you had anything to eat?
You: Not yet, I’ll worry about that later
Spencer read your message but didn’t reply. You turned your focus back to your work, sipping on your cold coffee to hopefully bring you back to earth. After forty-five minutes and another two cups of coffee, you finally finished your project. You were in the midst of sending a half-assed email to your project manager when you heard the elevator ding.
“Is Y/N still here?” You heard Spencer’s voice and your heart fluttered.
“Oh yeah, she’s just around the corner,” one of your coworkers replied. You rolled your chair back from your desk, peering around the corner as a lost little Spencer looked around.
“Spencer?” You called softly. His eyes darted to the sound of your voice, his face lighting up at the sight of you. He looked so precious in his sweater, with his messy hair and mismatched colourful socks. He did a little run down the row of cubicles to your desk, holding a plastic bag of what you assumed was takeout.
You stood up to greet him, the exhaustion suddenly dissipating, “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to bring you dinner,” he replied, holding the bag of the best smelling food out for you.
You pouted at the gesture, “Spencer, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. As a thank you for bringing me dinner the other week,” he said with a smile.
“Wait… how did you know where to find me?” You raised a brow at him, staring at him sideways. Spencer’s face went red, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“I’m sure you told me,” he lied.
“You’re a bad liar.”
“Garcia maybe… did some digging,” he replied under his breath, staring at everywhere but you.
You playfully punched his shoulder, “you stalker,” you laughed.
You pulled another chair over for Spencer, sitting down at your desk and finally pulling your dinner out. You don’t know where Spencer found this food but it was probably the best thing you’d ever eaten… but you also hadn’t fed yourself in 12 hours so maybe your judgement was slightly skewed.
“When did you get back?” you asked, mouth full of food.
“Two hours and four minutes ago,” Spencer replied, playing with the little Hello Kitty figurines on your desk.
“Spencer!” you scolded. “You must be exhausted!”
“I’m okay, really,” he quickly said. He let out a breath, shyly avoiding your gaze, “and… I wanted to see you.”
You smiled softly at his confession, reaching over to move some of his messy hair out of his face, “you’re cute.”
“Thank you,” he beamed.
The two of you sat at your desk for another hour as you ate your dinner and finished up your passive-aggressive email to your manager. Spencer helped you clean up your small collection of mugs and carried your bag for you while you cleaned up your desk. You walked to the elevator together, reaching up to gently grasp Spencer’s hand in your own.
“This okay?” You asked.
“Y-yeah, of course,” he replied quickly, feeling his hands going clammy and praying you didn’t notice.
You were lucky you lived within walking distance to your job, it proved to be very convenient for exercise and the price of fuel didn’t murder your already dusty bank account. Spencer opted to drive you home since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. You tried to offer him cash for fuel but he waved you off (you hit twenty dollars in his glove box).
Spencer pulled up outside your apartment building, the two of you sitting in a comfortable silence for a moment before you spoke, “you… want to come up?”
“Oh… yeah, yeah, sure I can,” Spencer replied nervously, clearing his throat.
“You don’t have to,” you laughed.
“No, no, I want to,” he said quickly, putting his car in park and taking his keys out of the ignition.
The two of you walked up to your apartment, Tofu rubbing against Spencer’s leg upon his arrival. Spencer was delighted by this revelation (he’d done a lot of research on cats after finding out you had a cat).
“Did you know cats rub up against you like this as a way of putting their scent on you?” Spencer said, running his hand along Tofu’s back, “so other cats know you’re theirs?”
“I didn’t know that,” you lied, of course you knew. But you would never let Spencer stop talking. You shrugged off your coat, tossing it over one of the chairs at your kitchen table. “Make yourself comfy, I’m just gonna go change.”
Spencer watched as you walked to your bedroom, Tofu trotting behind you. He awkwardly shuffled around your apartment, admiring the polaroid photos stuck to your fridge of what he assumed was your friends from your hometown. He smiled softly at how happy you looked. A particular photo of you at a halloween party made his face heat up. You were wearing a white lacy bralette, a white skirt and angel wings. Your friend next to you was dressed like the devil and your other friend dressed as… the Pope?
But that’s not what caught his eye, it was the fact he could clearly see your breasts through your see through top. He could see the little gold studs on either side of your pert nipples, truly juxtaposing the whole angel costume. Spencer had honestly almost forgotten you had your nipples pierced (no he didn’t).
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” you almost scared Spencer out of his skin. He was so distracted by your… assets, he didn’t hear you leave your room.
“Uh, nothing- nothing… just this,” he grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be your toaster.
“My… toaster?” your eyes narrowed.
“Yup, love this model,” Spencer nodded, putting your pink toaster back down on the counter.
You glanced at the polaroids on your fridge, deciding not to embarrass him further, “you want a drink? I have wine, wine and… wine?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I need to drive home,” Spencer waved you off before shoving his hands in his pockets. Spencer glanced at your outfit, the baby blue tank and grey shorts made a comeback and now he was rethinking the whole ‘wanna come up?’ scheme.
“How bout a coffee?” you asked.
Spencer gave a tight-lip smile, “Sure.”
You made Spencer his coffee and watched as he almost emptied your sugar jar. You poured yourself a glass of wine before sitting down on your plush couch, patting the spot next to you for Spencer. He sat down next to you, taking a sip of his sugar drink. He looked positively adorable drinking coffee from your Kirby mug.
“You should tell me about your recent case,” you said, tucking your legs under your butt, giving Spencer your undivided attention.
“...You want to hear about that?” he asked, brows furrowed.
“Duh, of course,” you retorted. “I like listening to you talk, Spencer.”
Spencer’s heart quickened at your genuine words, making him beam internally and his brain turn to mush. Spencer proceeded to tell you about the BAU’s most recent case, a string of seemingly unrelated murders of college students at house parties. Your heart leapt to your throat when Spencer told you how the UnSub started shooting at him and Emily before he was arrested.
“If you get shot, I’ll be so mad,” you told him after he finished his story.
“Okay, I’ll try not to get shot,” Spencer grinned, “so you won’t get mad.”
“Correct answer,” you nodded, downing the last of your wine. Spencer watched you as you stretched your arms over your head, a yawn pulling from your wine-stained lips. His eyes darted to your blue tank top, one of the thin straps falling off your shoulder. Your apartment was cold and your nipples pressed against the thin fabric of your top.
Spencer reached a hand over, gently lifting the strap of your top back over your shoulder, his warm hands making the hairs on your skin prickle. You glanced up at Spencer as he retracted his hand, quickling reaching your own hand out to grab his wrist.
Spencer stared at you with wide eyes, so beautiful and brown.
“Do you… want to see?” You asked quietly, your voice low.
Spencer looked at you, unsure of what you meant, “See what?”
You smiled, “My piercings,” you clarified.
Spencer felt like he exploded. His cheeks went red at the idea of seeing your breasts and the tiny intimate piercing he had only seen through your shirt and in his mind late at night. Sure, he had seen breasts before but he had never seen yours and that’s what made him nervous.
“I know you must be curious,” you said after Spencer didn’t reply. Spencer opened his mouth, attempting to form a single coherent thought. “Earth to Spencer?” you sang softly.
“I, uhm-”
“You don’t want to?” You asked.
“No, I do!” He quickly said before the weight of what he said hit him, “Wait, no… Y/N, I like you and I don’t want you to think that I’m only here to see… that,” he gestured vaguely.
You grabbed his hand gently, leaning over to kiss his cheek softly, “I like you too, Spence,” you muttered, his eyes finally meeting yours, “and I don’t think that you’re only here for that, trust me, guys have before and you’re not them.”
Spencer felt jealousy at the thought of other men seeing such an intimate part of you nag at the back of his mind. You watched his expression change, knowing his big genius brain was in overdrive. You reached a hand up to cup his face gently, bringing his attention back to you.
“Focus here, sweetie,” you whispered with a smile.
“Sorry,” Spencer whispered back.
“I don’t have to show you if it makes you uncomfortable-”
“I am curious,” Spencer interrupted, his voice nervous and quiet. You let out an airy laugh at his sweetness and let go of his face, sitting up straight.
Spencer swallowed the painful lump in his throat as you crossed your arms, fingers grasping the hem of your tank top. His eyes never left yours as you lifted the fabric over your heart, your breasts fully on display for him to see.
It took all of Spencer’s courage to glance down.
And god you were perfect.
Your breasts were smooth and soft, your nipples hard against the chilly air of your apartment. If Spencer were any less respectable, he would be drooling. His eyes stared at the gold jewellery threaded through your hard nipples. He had never seen anything quite as attractive as this and he was sure that nipple piercings were the single greatest thing to ever exist.
“...You’re giving me the wrong idea, Spence,” you chuckled after he stayed quiet for several minutes, simply admiring your beauty.
“I-I’m sorry,” he quickly said, “You’re just…”
“Bit weird, you think?”
“Perfect,” he said, looking up at you again. “You’re just… perfect.”
A small smile graced your lips, “Do you… want to touch?”
“I-I’m not very good at… any of this,” Spencer quickly replied, all he wanted to do was impress you and this was sending him spiralling.
“I don’t care about that, Spencer,” you grabbed his hand, “I like you, I trust you and I want it if you do.”
Spencer kept his eyes on you, “I… Yes. I want to.” He let you guide his hand to your breast. His hand was warm and large, cupping the soft plush skin gently. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt your soft skin, curious and nimble fingers exploring your skin. His thumb came up to touch the cool metal of your piercing, your breath catching in your throat at the feeling, “Sorry,” he quickly said, pulling his hand away.
“No, no, it’s okay… they’re just sensitive. An added perk of nipple piercings,” you replied. Spencer nodded, taking a mental note as his hand reached back out to touch your skin again.
You wrapped your hand gently around his wrist, catching his attention. Spencer’s beautiful eyes stared into yours and you lost it. Your hands reached out, pulling him in by his tie to plant a hard kiss against his lips. Spencer’s hand cupped the side of your neck, tilting your head back to kiss you deeper. Your hands came to hold the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair.
He pulled away to breathe, thumb stroking over your cheek, “are you okay with this?” he whispered slowly.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then so am I.”
That was all the encouragement Spencer needed to kiss you again, pulling you closer until you swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling his waist as you kissed him. You tasted slightly of wine and sweetness, the smell of your perfume sending him dizzy. Spencer’s hands came down to rest on your waist, his thumbs resting against your ribs.
“You want to keep going?” You asked breathlessly against his lips.
“I don’t want to stop,” Spencer replied just as breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw. You whined softly as one of his hands reached up to grasp your breast again, the pad of his thumb rubbing against your pert nipple.
“Spencer,” you whined, your hands grasping at the hair on the back of his neck. He planted a kiss on the column of your throat, then another to the small divot of your collarbone, and another to your sternum. His fingers gently pinched your nipple, making you whine softly. “Not good at this, my ass,” you breathed.
“I have an IQ of 187,” Spencer retorted, “I remember a lot.”
“Clearly,” you replied, lifting his head back up to kiss him again.
a/n: i hope everyone is okay with the lack of smut, i just want everyone to feel comfy (i'll totally write it in a future chapter ;) if you want tho)
taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r @33-81 @elissanatok @outrunangelss @cultish-corner @666-gothic-bat-666 @evvy96 @littlemarvelstan8 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @meg-black
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds x reader#spencer#dr reid#dr spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#cm spencer#cm spencer reid#i want a boyfriend so bad#give me a chance spencer
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
baby steps | lando norris
pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo)
genre: fluff
warnings: none
word count: 2.5k
summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?
note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !
---
When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing.
The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain.
“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave.
You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.
“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening.
“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”
While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice.
“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?”
“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?”
Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.”
You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando.
“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport.
Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.
“Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.
—
The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes.
Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him.
But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both.
“Oh my god, you’re here.” Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again.
“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe”
Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now.
When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered.
“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here.
You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview.
“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin.
Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.” Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment.
“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?”
“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.”
The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.
At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.
“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd. “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.
It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits.
Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights.
“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment.
You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined.
It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you.
It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.
You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far.
“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.
“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder.
----
author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍
#lando norris#f1 imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#ln4#f1 fluff#f1 fic#formula 1#f1 x reader#lando norris fluff#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#ln4 imagine#f1 fanfic#mclaren f1#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando fluff#formula one#ln4 x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
what people misunderstand about the hvw patch urianger plotline is that urianger's greatest sin in that arc is not sending minfilia to the first. he didn't actually do that. what he did is set up a confrontation between the wol and ardbert's party without elidibus' knowledge so all the crystals of light from the wol and from ardbert's party would allow them to talk to hydaelyn and minfilia. that is what he did. then he presented his solution to the first and source's dual problem, and minfilia AGREED and so did hydaelyn and so minfilia chose to go over. minfilia was already lost in the sauce. the wol and the scions knew that, they saw her in the antitower as the vessel of hydaelyn as The Word Of The Mother. she was already in there and it wasn't going to be as easy to get her out like they did y'shtola and thancred - or maybe even possible. what he arranged is a meeting that had the ability to conclude in the way he wanted - which was a way for the first to survive, and for no calamity to happen on the source. and in that, he allowed everyone to see minfilia again and speak with her. so he could ask her if she was willing to do that. he didn't punt her over there! because even when he's taking action, he is still a really passive person lmao. but he gave minfilia the option to save two entire worlds, which she was happy to choose to do.
urianger's ACTUAL greatest sin in that arc is alisaie's poisoning by renda-rae's arrow. i don't know if urianger was with the warriors of darkness for that incident or if he was at the waking sands, and i KNOW he was probably horrified to hear about the incident and intensely regretfull and ashamed he wasn't there to stop it (like he stopped ardbert's party in the cutscene after xelphatol later on) but regardless, i don't think their relationship was ever the same after that. which makes me miserable, because right before this is the bahamut coils plot, where alisaie trusts urianger as her scion contact (not alphinaud!) because he's a close family friend, and he obviously respects her so incredibly much (he uses "you" for her!) and is so distressed when he sees her (and alphinaud) all beat up after the final coil. they never act very close after 3.4, aside from urianger presenting her with a custom-made rapier and a prophecy before she sets sail to kugane in stormblood. i think that is in part meant as an apology (and also so alisaie has an easier time casting), but they never really team up again like they did in the coils plot. this probably isn't intentional on the part of the writers, but it's an absence that feels conspicuous to me. when your childhood babysitter almost gets you killed.
703 notes
·
View notes
Text
How about an analysis of Dunmeshi's latest episode?
What I find really interesting, and episode 17 made me realize it, is the extent to which Laios and Shuro are the opposite of what they portray, even worse: the image they might portray is actually that of the other.
Let me explain :
How does Shuro see Laios ? As someone stubborn and thoughtless, disconnected from reality to the point of using black magic to resurrect his little sister.
We know that Shuro would have made the same choice, which shows that even if he tries to deny it, there is a point of connection between them.
The key to these similarities and differences is Falin.
What Shuro loves about Falin is the tenderness in her every gesture, her compassion and understanding of every creature, and her smile.
When he sees this monster kill in cold blood, he realizes the extent to which he has lost his loved one, which is why he chooses to kill her to free his soul, thinking he has lost her.
But what Shuro doesn't realize is that he's exactly what he's blaming Laios for: he's stubborn and reckless, not realizing the danger and sacrifices his teammates are making for the sake of this mission.
He's also disconnected from reality, not caring about himself, his hunger or his fatigue.
Above all, and this is very interesting, Laios had said that he hadn't perceived that Shuro couldn't stand him because he was so happy to have him as a friend, that he hadn't detected any of these signals.
Shuro shares this blindness
Shuro repeats that this monster is not Falin, yet he sees her as such, to the point of embarrassment when the monster removes her blouse.
And that's the opposite of Laios, who sees his sister as the monster she is
Like the chimera Falin has become, he sees his little sister calling him and this super-cool monster.
He's the one with his feet firmly on the ground, he's the one who really cares about his team, taking care of himself and those around him through balanced meals.
The one who understands that Falin has many vital points, rather than allowing himself to be overwhelmed by despair, is Laios.
So when Shuro hits Laios, in reality he's not hitting a man who differs from him, he's hitting his own flaws, and his own failure in the situation.
This failure he projects onto Laios, a man brimming with flaws.
Not only does Laios reason with him, but if Shuro ends up taking the wiser path, it's also because he's literally fought against himself.
But it all goes even further!
Shuro realized his feelings, or rather how unique Falin was in her tenderness and altruism, towards every being, even the smallest.
But what set this whole cycle in motion was Falin's self-sacrifice, her own death.
Laios and Marcille are responsible for what follows, but they are not responsible for everything, as Shuro tries to believe.
Shuro refuses the truth
So he doesn't see Falin
He couldn't accept that her tenderness had led to his death
Nor that her tenderness gave way to extreme coldness and indifference
He won't accept his own blindness
So he hits Laios and his extreme sincerity that irritates him so much
Shuro can't see anything in the darkness of this dungeon, he's the one who's lost his footing so he has to get back up again
Laios has accepted to see everything, even the unavowable, the forbidden, the pain.
What Shuro sees in Falin is love
In Laios, what he sees is the truth
In reality, Laios has only told part of the truth; he is the other half.
But if he goes back up, it's not to abandon Falin, Shuro has to face reality, the truth, that Laios was the only one who could save his beloved.
It was by fighting that he finally put his trust in Laios.
And finally became a friend
#dunmeshi anime#dunmeshi#dungeon meshi#delicous in dungeon#dunmeshi ep 17#dungeon meshi 17#episode 17#shuro#laios dungeon meshi#falin dungeon meshi#marcille donato#falin touden#laios touden#chilchuck#analysis#dunmeshi analysis#dungeon meshi chapter 35#dungeon meshi chapter 36#dungeon meshi chapter 37
483 notes
·
View notes
Text
The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - four.
simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader
word count: 4.7k
synopsis: Price decides to have a movie night on base. You and Ghost have The Talk.
warnings: occasional swearing, man written by a woman (may have slightly idealised Ghost), miscommunication, emotionally constipated Ghost and reader, the episodic mentions of Ghost's groaning and blonde eyelashes, brief appearance of Keegan Russ, mentions of smoking
notes: this was not supposed to be this long, but ideas just kept coming and coming. As I have mentioned before, this was initially intended to be a filler chapter for the "grand finale" (aka the one where he falls asleep on you) - so this is why the ending may seem a little bit rushed.
reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)
find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five
masterlist
four.
“So you want to have a movie night here, on base?”
“A movie night, tonight?”
“Can we bring snacks? And drinks?”
“What are we going to watch?”
Seated at his usual place in the mess hall, Captain John Price found himself struggling to hide the proud, fatherly smile that threatened to spread on his face. He was surprised by the enthusiasm with which his idea of a movie night had been met, yet there you were, all curious and excited about it. You were seated between Soap and Gaz, your food momentarily forgotten as you started planning the entire evening around his proposal. You three were so caught up in debating whether you should mix in all types of popcorn with nachos that you did not notice the insistent glances of the passersby. Or the aggressive glares that Ghost was shooting back, his balaclava only highlighting the coldness of his features.
It was the second day after your night out at the pub and after thinking about the events over and over again, he accepted, with resignation, that his innate need to protect you and keep you from harm's way had only grown stronger. Ghost was a man of few words and certainly, not one to publicly display his feelings, so when you came to him in the morning and thanked him for taking care of you when you got wasted, he just shrugged it off with a piss-poor remark that you would do the same for him. He did not miss the blush that spread across your face when you answered that you absolutely would, if there would ever be such an occasion, and left him with an awkward pat on the shoulder. Which was kind of ironic since, two nights before, you climbed him like a beanstalk and clung to him like a koala.
And there he was, longing for any kind of interaction from you, like the touch-starved mess that he'd become. He would have placed himself next to you at the table, but he didn't want to give Price more satisfaction - the older man had already figured out enough about the intensity of his feelings about you, the Polaroid that Simon now kept safely tucked in his wallet being proof of it.
And what was this with Price's sudden idea of a movie night? Ghost knew the Captain insisted on having a united team whose members can trust each other, after all that's why he handpicked you all to join, but another gathering besides the night spent at the pub was way too much for his social battery.
At least you had all accepted his quiet persona from the beginning, not attempting to push his buttons more than it was necessary.
Until you fell asleep on him in the lounging room.
And then again at the safe house.
And then again at the pub.
"Ghost, do you copy?"
Your delicate voice pulled him out of his thoughts, only for him to be met with the questioning look that was etched in your face.
"I know that look!", Soap quickly chimed in, a daring smirk on his face. "Who's the lucky woman, L.T.?"
"Or man- which is totally fine too!", Gaz added with an equal devious expression.
Both of them shut up when Ghost shot them his signature threatening look, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the tender smile on your face slightly falter. Before giving anyone the chance to further ruin the moment, he willed his eyes on you, softening his voice as much as he could:
"I'm sorry, Bambi. 'were you saying?"
"Would you like to join me later on a trip to the supermarket for snacks? I don't trust these two menaces with such an important task!"
He gulped loudly at the sight of the pleading look in your eyes, not entirely sure if you were just playing him, or if the doe eyes were really making a return. At that point, Simon had already memorized your features, being able to draw them with his eyes closed, but his heart still fluttered upon seeing your large and round irises, brimming with innocence and tenderness.
Additionally, he could feel Price's unwavering gaze burning into the back of his head. And he had a feeling the Captain would force his ass into the first available car and drag him to the supermarket with you.
"Sure - we can take my car... plenty of space for groceries", his words trailed off at the sight of the satisfied grin you gave him, your eyes brimming with joy. "We could go after the combat training if it's ok with you..."
"Absolutely! Thanks, Ghost, you're the best!"
You rose from your seat and placed your hands on his shoulders in what was meant to be half a hug before jogging out of the mess hall, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks.
The memories of the previous night were still blurry in your head, but you could recall the unique feeling of your cheek being pressed against a chest - Ghost's chest, the distinct smell of him still lingering on the black t-shirt you had neatly folded and placed on your bed. You did not plan to wash it any time soon.
You had thanked Ghost for taking care of you, but after the morning coffee chat you had with Soap, you actually felt the need to apologize for being such a burden. Of course, Soap had been just as intoxicated as you, so you couldn't place too much trust in his words. However, the recent teasing about the person that occupied Ghost's thoughts, made you feel uneasy about the whole situation. Were you being too clingy and touchy towards him - did you cross any of his boundaries? You hadn't even realised when you'd let your guard down in his presence, but it was certain that falling asleep on him without any negative reaction from his side, marked a significant step in that direction.
But now you had a chance to figure things out in the way adults do: by openly communicating with him. And the trip to the supermarket was the perfect cover-up for it.
You just had to keep to yourself until then - maybe try to limit your interactions with him as overstepping his boundaries was the last thing you'd wanted to do. It couldn't be that hard, right?
---
It was barely noon, and Ghost couldn't figure out what he'd done so wrong to make you avoid him like the plague. Did you get upset at him for not returning the hug? Did he not seem excited enough about the trip to get snacks?
Did someone put something in your food and you suspected him?
He thought it was nothing at first. After all, it would have been unusual for you to sit next to him at the morning briefing as you usually had a spot next to Gaz. But then you did not even seem to acknowledge his presence at the shooting range, barely muttering a greeting when passing him on the way to the lockers.
And now, ironically enough, you chose to spar with one of the Ghosts- none other than their scout sniper, Keegan Russ. On the one hand, it was actually a good move: you could learn and trade tips and tricks with a sniper as good as he was. On the other hand, Simon did not like the way his hands seemed to linger over your body every time you mounted an attack, or how his chest puffed when he was trying to walk you through some new move. Like him, Keegan always wore a balaclava in public, but unlike him, the younger operator did not seem to care about hiding his emotions: everyone could tell that he was smirking as he extended his hand to help you get up after he'd mercilessly tossed you on the mat.
Yet the next thing he knew, he was the one making contact with the mat, his back absorbing most of the impact. The sudden reversal in the sparring match left him momentarily disoriented, his eyes still searching for you and your new combat partner. It wasn't until he spotted Soap's concerned expression, the Sergeant hesitantly hovering above him, that he showed any intention of getting up. The Scot subtly followed his line of sight until his eyes landed on you and Keegan. You were beaming at him as he seemed to tell you a story based on the frantic way his hands moved, his icy blue eyes fixed on you as he spoke.
"Seems I got ya good, L.T.", Soap said as he helped Ghost back on his feet, giving him a slight pat as an apology. "Do you want to call it a day or-?"
He could barely hide his smirk before receiving a growl and a criminal side-eye in response. And he let his guard down as the next thing he knew, his arm was caught in a firm grip and his body flew over Ghost's shoulder, landing on the training mat with a loud thud. He could not stifle the groan that escaped him and closed his eyes in resignation. Once again, he learnt the hard way not to mess with the big man with the scary mask.
"Wipe that smirk off your face, MacTavish. We're here to train, not to ogle at others!"
"Copy that, sir!"
---
"I'm just telling you, Keegan, you've got to man up and talk to her!", you said between breaths as you dodged his incoming shots. "You wanted girl advice from a girl? Now you have it!"
"How can I know it won't just scare her off? Should- should I take off my mask, do you think that she'll see that as a clear sign that - you know?"
"It'll definitely be a step in that direction..."
Your words momentarily trailed off as you stole a glance at Ghost who was currently caught up in his own sparring match with Soap. He'd traded his usual skull mask for one of his balaclavas, and he wore his usual black t-shirt that allowed you to fully take in his tattoed arms, rippling with muscles and scars. Maybe limiting your interactions with him was a bad idea. Not that you had something against teaming up with Keegan - you two needed to do some catching up - and it was just the right time for it, but you felt you could have learnt a lot from the Lieutenant.
And at that moment you didn't mind being pinned to the ground by him, just like he did with Soap.
"So did you convince him to take his mask off?"
Keegan's question took you by surprise, as did his left foot, which interlocked with yours and sent you falling face-first. You could tell he was smirking under the balaclava as he helped you back up, and a grin also spread on your face as you shook your head in acceptance:
"Why would I ever do that?"
"Because I can feel his death stare on me right now and... I saw the picture from the lounging room. I think it was rather cute, you know?"
"No, I don't..."
The words came out slowly as your mind was trying to figure out what he could be talking about. The only pictures you had with Ghost were the ones taken after important missions, the ones with the other members of Task Force 141 and whoever may have been involved. And it was safe to say they could not be described as "cute".
"Oh come on, don't play dumb - the Polaroid picture from the lounging room? The one where you-"
"Sergeant L/N, 'you ready to go? I'll meet you at the car in 10."
Despite having interrupted your conversation, Ghost did not seem fazed by it. He didn't even wait for your confirmation- just turned his back on you and started walking towards that door with a certain smugness in his gait. As he took in the scene, Keegan's smirk widened under the mask. He may have needed girl advice, but boy- scratch that -special forces operator advice was a topic he was well versed in.
"I wouldn't make him wait if I were you", he resumed shrugging his shoulders and giving you a sympathetic look. "And thanks for the advice, I'll keep you posted on the situation!"
---
It took you 7 minutes to get changed and jog to Ghost's usual parking spot and he was already there, smoke in his hand. Even so, you felt the need to mutter a quick apology before getting in and fastening your seatbelt. Ghost was quick to follow, hopping into the driver's seat and starting the car.
He internally sighed when the radio began playing. It was going to be a long ride.
You, on the other hand, rested your head against the window, your mind brimming with questions about the mysterious picture that Keegan had mentioned. It was true that you had not checked the wooden panel for any new additions- at one point, you had completely forgotten about it, but it seemed some people took it seriously.
Involuntarily, your gaze slipped to Ghost. The Lieutenant was focused on the road, one hand holding the steering wheel while another rested on the gearstick. He was unusually calm and collected, unlike the chaotic driver you were used to. Did he know about the picture too? Was it bothering him in any way?
The car came to a sudden stop, brakes screeching on the hot concrete as he steered into an empty parking spot. You shot him a confused look as he turned off the engine and turned towards you, his chocolate eyes filled with questions:
"I've had enough", he began in a gruff tone that softened when his eyes landed on your face. "Come on, Bambi, out with it!"
You raised your eyebrows at his question, even if, deep down, you knew it was time for The Talk.
And you were so not prepared for it. So you decided to play dumb.
"Out with what? Do you want me to get out of the car or-?"
"You know what I'm talking about!"
His tone was even and his eyes too gentle for your liking. Part of you had wanted to get him all riled up so that you could justify the outburst that you were on the verge of having. Yet he only raised an eyebrow in question, leaning in the driver's seat and crossing his arms:
"You've been acting weird all day- ignoring and avoiding me. And you kept staring at me for the past quarter of an hour yet now you won't even look me in the eye! You've got to give me a hand here, Bambi because I have no idea what I did wrong!"
It was the second time in the past week that you'd heard him talk that much in one sitting, yet you were busy managing your stress levels, which were currently shooting through the roof. Turns out, you were not ready for The Talk. Communication was overrated anyway-
"You- you didn't do anything wrong and...", you answered incoherently, your mind trying to make sense of the words that were leaving your mouth.
"Y/N..."
"OK, fine! I-am-sorry-for-being-such-a-burden-to-you-and-intruding-your-personal-space-and-falling-asleep-on-you-without-having-your-permission-and-"
"What the hell are you talking about? Who- who even implied that you are a burden to me? Was it Russ- do I need to have a chat with him?"
"Oh no, Keegan had nothing to do with it. He was actually asking me for advice about this nurse he met and- you know what? Yeah, let's not go there..."
"I fully agree", Ghost nodded in compliance, partly amused by the unexpected oversharing side of you. "But, Bambi, you... You could never be a burden to any of us. Do you understand that?"
A sudden wave of clarity swept over your thoughts after you talked about it, and with it also came the furious blush that made you bury your face in your hands:
"God, I'm so embarrassed now..."
"Hey, hey, look at me!"
Ghost tried to control the faint shaking of his gloved hand as he placed it on your shoulder. He had figured out something was wrong, but would have never thought that you would see yourself as a burden, that you would intrude on his personal space? Why would you even think of such nonsense in the first place?
"If this is about you getting wasted at the pub, then you've got it all wrong!", he decided to continue when you lowered your hands and exposed the upper half of your face.
"Fucking hell, Y/N, would you quit looking at me with those doe-eyes? You have no idea what you are doing to me right now..."
He did not realise he said it out loud until you widened your eyes even more and proceeded to hide your face in your hands again, muttering a string of apologies. He let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head in disbelief. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he would have to spend the afternoon like that, having this kind of talk in his car, in a random parking lot. Yet there you were, two operators, seemingly with no communication skills and a penchant for hiding your faces in masks and hands.
With careful moves, Ghost removed his gloves, trying to ignore the stark contrast between his fingers and yours. He then extended his hands towards yours, gently pulling them away from your face. The sight of your E/C eyes made him let out a soft sigh:
"I did not mean it like that... there is nothing wrong with the doe-eyes. There's a reason they call you Bambi after all.."
You let out a dry chuckle, your eyes still glued to the ground as you were relishing in the warm feeling of his touch. His hands haven't left yours- in fact, he pulled them into his lap and was currently playing with the metal ring you've quickly slipped on before leaving.
"I don't know who or what made you think you intruded on my personal space. You didn't."
His pause made you raise your eyes back to his face, momentarily losing yourself in his chocolate orbs. Your doe-eyes may have been one of his weaknesses, but his blonde eyelashes were going to be the death of you, you were certain of that.
"And you falling asleep on me? It - I can't believe I'm actually saying it out loud and correct me if I'm wrong in any way - it made me feel good, to know that you felt safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position when I am nearby- and not once, but thrice now..."
"Wait- you mean twice, right?"
His chuckle made you widen your eyes in disbelief. He was definitely smirking under the mask.
"Ghost, when was the third time?"
"I just told you all this deep and emotional stuff and this is what you decide to focus on?"
"Well, I am not good at dealing with emotions, as you can see!". The blush was making a rapid comeback.
"The point is", he resumed his idea, "that you have no reasons to think you are a bother to me. You are not. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
Ghost rolled his eyes as he turned the engine back on and gently let go of your hands, the remnants of your touch still warm on his fingers. He rolled out of the parking lot with ease, trying hard not to replay the awkward conversation that just took place, when your voice chimed in:
"Does this mean... hypothetically speaking, if I were to fall asleep during the movie night, and I were seated next to you..."
"Should I be concerned about your sleeping schedule? Or actually, the lack of it?"
---
You let out a brief sigh of relief as you got out of the car and headed towards the base, Ghost closely following you with two heavy bags in his hands. He refused to let you carry the bags under the pretence of having already trained hard enough today, but you knew it was just his specific way of reassuring you that things were good between the two of you.
As awkward as it had been, The Talk seemed to have cleared out any miscommunication issues you may have created inside your mind, and it certainly made you not feel bad about the moments you had drifted off on his shoulder. Or arms. Or whatever else place.
And as he was headed towards the kitchen, you made a bee-line to the lounging room, which, to your luck, proved to be empty. You turned on the lights and stopped in front of the wooden panel, your eyes quickly moving from one Polaroid picture to another. It had been a while since you last checked them as there were several additions that you hadn't been aware of: a blurred selfie of Soap and Gaz, a still shot of an unknown operator sipping his tea, a picture of Price, dozing off on his armchair and there it was, a snapshot of you, fast asleep on Ghost's shoulder, the Lieutenant staring at the camera with a blank look.
"I couldn't stop Soap from taking it."
You involuntarily flinched when you heard Ghost's amused voice. He must have snuck up on you as he was currently standing on your right, his eyes fixed on the picture at hand.
"Keegan mentioned it during combat training. I didn't even know it was there", You shrugged your shoulders at him.
"Does it bother you?"
There was something indescribable in his tone that made you halt for a second and look up at him. The glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes was not missed on you and your mind recalled the details of your previous conversation.
"It made me feel good, to know that you felt safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position when I am nearby"
"No, I actually kind of like it. Don't you?"
He let out a grunt as confirmation and you tried to fight the smile that threatened to spread on your face. You opened your mouth to tease him about it when Price, Gaz and Soap entered the lounging room, already having changed into civilian clothes. You quickly forgot what you were about to say when you noticed that Price was holding a DVD in his hands- and not just any DVD:
"We're going to watch 'The Bodyguard'?"
The captain busied himself with setting up the DVD player, but you could tell there was a smile on his face:
"What can I say? Your toast inspired me, Bambi!"
You shot a questioning look at Gaz who seemed equally as confused as you were, but then looked over at Soap who was chuckling under his breath:
"I may have left that bit out!", he confessed with a guilty grin, as he sat down on one of the sofas, Gaz joining him quickly.
"You don't remember the toast?", Ghost asked amusedly, having already taken his usual place on the couch. "You called Price 'the cool dad of the group' before blasting out 'I Will Always Love You' on karaoke."
Letting out a long sigh of defeat, you sat down next to Ghost, shaking your head in disbelief. That part of the night was still an empty space in your mind, and listening to bits of it did not help you remember anything about it. Yet you were not surprised by the music choice - it was your usual shower song so why not sing it when totally intoxicated as well?
"You also thanked Simon for taking care of you during the missions and letting you fall asleep on him", Price added quickly before Ghost could interject, a glimpse of his proud dad smile dancing on his face.
You raised your eyes to Ghost in a sheepish look, only to see him roll his eyes and extend his right arm on the couch, almost as an invitation for you to come closer. The lights were turned off and the movie started, but that did not stop you from raising an eyebrow in question. He merely nodded in your direction and you understood the message, trying to scoot over as quietly as possible. You hoped he hadn't heard the small sigh of satisfaction that left your lips when you cuddled up into his side, slightly leaning your head against his chest and taking a deep breath. You knew the movie by heart, it having been an integral part of your childhood, so instead of paying much attention to it, you redirected your efforts towards focusing on the multitude of sensations created by the close contact between Ghost's body and yours.
His familiar scent enveloped you like a comforting blanket, but it was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that made your eyelids heavy. There was something uniquely special about the whole situation- the intimacy and fragility of the moment mixed with the consistent cadence of his breaths and the occasional vibrations that would resonate from his chest, were lulling you to sleep.
And when you felt his fingers starting to trace circles on your back, you nestled your head in the crook of his neck and drifted off into a peaceful slumber. It seemed that lately, the only good sleep you got was in Simon's arms.
--- bonus scene
The movie had long ended, yet none of you made any attempt to get up and start cleaning after you. The lounging room was still dark, the faint light from the TV casting shadows on the opposite wall. Soap was loudly snoring, perched on his usual place on the sofa. Price had also dozed off in his designated armchair and Gaz was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, a blank look on his face.
Still leaning against Ghost's chest, you were trying to fight the last remnants of sleep that were still lingering around. You were aware that eventually you had to get up and go home, but Ghost's heartbeats were steady and reassuring and the weight of his arm on your back was comforting and warm enough to keep you trapped in between dream and reality.
You were debating whether you should open your eyes or not when, all of a sudden, the room was flooded with light, the unexpected brightness blinding your senses and making you let out a deep groan. You could feel Ghost shifting below, his arm leaving your back and you ended up opening her eyes when he whispered into your ear:
"Get up, Laswell's here!"
You eventually peeled yourself from Ghost, your mind having difficulties processing the piece of information - what was Laswell doing in England? Wasn't she supposed to be in the US, gathering intelligence and coordinating missions?
Yet there she was, in flesh and bone, already heading up the door as she signed you to follow her.
"I can't tell you how glad I am I've got you all here already", she turned to Price as she hurried towards the long hall and into the main briefing room. "It's better than having to call each one of you in the dead of the night.."
"Kate, slow down- what is going on?", John asked in a calming tone, throwing apprehensive looks at the files she was holding in her hands.
"Alright - is everybody here? Bambi, Soap, Gaz, Ghost?"
Laswell locked the door before going back to her usual place. Still dumbfounded from being woken up so suddenly, you looked up at Ghost, but the warm look in his eyes was long gone, replaced by the stone-cold one he sported during missions. You could tell that, internally, he was already preparing for whatever news Laswell was about to deliver. And the grim look plastered on her face, as she turned on the video projector, was foreboding enough:
"A shipment of biological weapons we've been tracking just went missing. We have good reason to suspect that our scouts have been compromised."
taglist: @neoarchipelago, @thecorruptedlovely, @mitchlow, @fieldsofbats, @thaprilks, @stars-andfreckles, @that-napa-know-how, @preistinajamjar, @iamaliceinwonderland, @allaboutirem0, @lilpothoscuttings, @01trickster10, @yyiikes, @joanne-uwu, @dorck26
#cod ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#call of duty imagine#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#task force 141#keegan russ#ghost fluff#simon riley x you#simon riley fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Robes |Zuko X Reader| HC
Summary: Your relationship with Zuko and how your friends found out.
Warnings: Implied intamacy???? Bed sharing. Kissing.
- - - - -
You were well acquainted with the Gaang. You'd served as a sort of double agent for them during the war once Zuko had teamed up with them. He knew they'd need some inside information, so he contacted you, knowing full well your ideals did not align with the fire nation.
You're the daughter of the prestigious Admiral Zhou, a ruthless military head who wouldn't hesitate to turn you in if he found out you were leaking information to the enemy.
It was easy to keep them updated. Your father had an ego the size of the moon, always going on and on about his achievements and new findings and whatnot. He was never home for long, leaving you in your mother's care and making it easy to sneak away. You mostly sent messenger Hawks, but once they'd infiltrated the fire nation you met in person.
You mostly met with Zuko, but occasionally, Sokka or Aang would take his place. You didn't mind. It was nice seeing more of the people you were risking your life for.
After the war, once Zuko took over as Fire Lord, he invited you to be a part of his cabinet. You weren't sure why, seeing as how the other members have some sort of military or consulting experience, and you're just a teenager who sent letters.
Strategy meetings were weekly, so you saw Zuko more often than any of the others. They visited when they could, but with the long list of air temple repairs, it was difficult to make time.
Not that you minded. You loved spending time with him, with or without the rest of the entourage.
Zuko was always accommodating to you, even going as far as to offer you a room in the palace 'if you ever need it.' He'd had the room fully furnished and closet stocked with spare outfits.
Occasionally, if meetings ran long, you'd stay in said room. It was a luxury the other members weren't granted, and honestly, it made you feel special.
When all the immediate post-war issues finally calmed down and Zuko had more free time, he always asked you to stick around or come keep him company.
He's the fire lord. He can't easily leave the palace, especially to do regular teenager things like laze around the shops or sneak into theaters, so you were limited to what the palace could offer.
You'd taken to gardening with him, something Zuko found very alluring. You played board games, baked pastries, and anything else you two could come up with.
Before long, you found yourself spending most of your time with him on the property. Occasional sleepovers quickly become several times a week. It wasn't long before you basically lived there, so you bit the bullet and brought the rest of your stuff to the palace.
Within a few months, you shared a kiss near the pond in the garden. Things slowly escalated over the next year or so. That first nervous kiss became the norm. You shared dinners and late night talks, often going so far into the night you'd just crash in his bed.
Before long, your room became obsolete. Your bed was hardly ever touched, your clothes were in his closet, items in his drawers, and toiletries in his restroom.
You'd heard the staff gossip from time to time, which you didn't necessarily mind, but it definitely made you blush. It felt like getting caught despite doing nothing wrong.
For a while, Katara would tease you mercilessly. She didn't know anything, or at least didn't lead you to believe she did. She just liked the idea of everyone finding someone, and you were the only girl Zuko ever talked to.
You went out of your way to cover up the obvious aspects of your relationship when your friends were around. You agreed early on to keep things under wraps, not wanting to harm the groups dynamic if things didn't work out.
But that was almost a year and half ago, and now it felt wrong to say anything. Like you had betrayed their trust somehow. You felt bad for lying to your friends about what was going on, but honestly, neither of you could bring yourself to admit the two of you had been dishonest for so long.
You woke up and patted the bed beside you. It was still warm, but Zuko wasn't there. You got up and picked up a robe off the floor to cover your nightwear. It was unlike him to leave without even waking you, so you'd go see what he was up to.
You exited his quarters and immediately saw the entire Gaang. They just stared at you in shock, having a hard time piecing things together.
"Did you just come out of Zuko's room?" Sokka asked.
"You saw me, didn't you?"
"Are those his clothes?" Katara asked.
You glanced down. They were, in fact, his clothes. You just stared at her, refusing to answer. Of course, Katara would notice they were his specifically and not just standard robes.
Zuko dragged his hand down his face. Of course, this is how they'd find out. Not after a long, thought-out conversation over a planned dinner or outing. They had to see you walk out of his room compromised after an impromptu visit.
They hastled you two for the rest of the day, asking horrifically personal questions and guilt tripping you into answering them. They bothered you for information about your intimate lives and dating preferences.
Late into the night, when the fire and excitement died down, Katara and Toph cornered you about the secrecy. You were huddled up in your room for a girls only sleepover when they decided to attack, giving you no choice but to be completely honest.
"We kept it quiet in case things didn't work out. Then some time passed... and we started feeling guilty about hiding it, and we just never found the right time."
"There didn't have to be a right time. Were your friends, not your subjects."
"I know. There's just a lot of pressure when you're with a friend who also happens to be the Fire Lord."
Luckily, you have amazing friends who understand people make mistakes. They squashed your anxiety about the whole thing, making sure you knew they weren't mad or disappointed.
But that absolutely did not stop them from holding over your heads for the unforeseeable future.
#zuko x reader#fire lord zuko#atla zuko#prince zuko#zuko#zuko x you#atla#avatar the last airbender#avatar
643 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beckham II: 2 That Day
Part 2 is here!!!!!
Short one for this part but I think some context is needed before I bring us back to the present day!
Hope you enjoy! Also in this the third place game doesn't exist.
(Part 1 can be found here x)
2nd July 2019, England vs USA, World Cup Semi-final
25th minute – 1 - 1
“This is a real battle out there isn’t it Sue?” Jonathon Pearce broadcasted to the UK, all eyes on the England team trying to defeat the US. Though they had gone behind very early on, an Ellen White leveller had brought them back onto even terms.
“It certainly is, you can see how much this means to all the players out there. None of this England team have ever experienced an occasion like this before but they seem to be carrying that emotion well.”
Out on the field it felt like an out of body experience. Before this the biggest game you’d played in would have to be a substitute appearance in an FA cup final, now you were starting the semi final at a World Cup. You were 19 and felt like the whole world was watching you.
At the start of the tournament you hadn’t been expecting to start but when Jill Scott picked up an injury in the round of 16 you’d stepped into the starting position next to Keira and never looked back. Receiving praise back at home for the level-headed game you played but still managed to bring out that touch of David Beckham in you.
It was a free-kick in the quarter-final that really brought you to the forefront of the nation. A slick ball which soared into the top corner of the net leaving their goalkeeper stranded and left everyone open-mouthed at home. You were never a nobody but now you were here to stay. Your Instagram following doubled and whenever you left the hotel in the past week the camera had never left you. The pressure was on.
“Fucking hell.” You swore coming up to take a corner for England nestled into the corner of the ground flooded with US fans.
“Nepotism trash!” “Daddy not here to hold your hand!” “Can’t even kick a ball!” “Weak!” “Spineless!”
The insults were flying in from every angle, everything was covered in the thirty seconds you had to wait to take the corner, of course your dad was mentioned but so was your appearance in the media. Newly turned 19 and yet it seemed like you were still the five-year-old girl who had her father carry her everywhere. Everyone just presumed you were an innocent little baby who couldn’t put in a tackle, you hated it.
But now was not the time to let that frustration out. Now was game time when nothing else mattered.
Your in-swinging corner found Millie on the edge of the 6-yard box but she couldn’t quite get the connection on it to trouble Naeher, instead giving her an easy catch but you could feel it coming.
The only problem is now there was now a break on. A quick release from the goalkeeper had set Lavelle free, Keira had stayed back but you couldn’t leave her one on one with Morgan in the centre.
You had one second to make a decision.
One second to work out how to stop her. You could try and get further back but you knew you had to stop it at source.
You were known for your pace so you had no trouble getting back to her but Lavelle was known for her trickery and skill.
In your head you made the best decision you could. You followed the rules you played football by and trusted your instinct.
That was where the world as you knew it slowly began to fade away.
“Oh that’s a nasty one from Beckham there and Lavelle seems seriously hurt.”
You thought it was clean, in fact you were sure of it. The contact with the ball was clear sending it flying out of play, you didn’t touch her other than her leg coming into yours as she came over the top of you and yet as she rolled around on the floor it was like the opposite had happened.
Suddenly you were surrounded by players in red, all screaming at you. “What the fuck did you do that for?” “Learn that one from your daddy did you?”
Millie came to stand in front of you, trying to block you from the players as Steph and Lucy surrounded the others at the referee.
“She didn’t touch her.” Millie defended you. “Tell your own player to stop cheating.”
You thought that would be the end of it. Tempers flared, emotions were high and you would get on with the match again. When the referee reached into her pocket you were convinced it was to calm everyone down, a booking usually helped to send a message out but when you saw it was red and it was flashed in your direction it was like time stopped.
“It’s a red card for Beckham, just like her father that name has once again come back to haunt England.” Jonathon commentated. “It’s a long way back for them here.”
You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Go and have a look yourself.” Millie shouted at the ref to overcome the noise in the stadium. “It was a clean tackle, she didn’t touch her.”
“The contact was enough to endanger the opponent. It’s reckless, dangerous and that it is a red card.”
“VAR has got to overturn this.” Sue Smith pointed out. “She’s nowhere near her opponent, it’s not even a yellow card.”
“When you make a challenge like that you bring about a decision from the ref.”
“But that’s what VAR is here for, to show the referee what actually happened. Beckham has arguably been one of the players of the tournament and yet she could be remembered for just this moment.”
It could have been minutes, it must only have been thirty seconds that you stood there. Waiting for some to tell you it had all been a big mistake. Apologies would come and you’d be able to restart the game.
Instead VAR confirmed the red card. You’d been sent off in the most important game you’d ever played in, maybe would ever play in.
This time though it felt like the impact hit you immediately, looking back it was probably the reason you hated showing any emotion now. Your teammates tried to comfort you as the tears started to come but the guilt was already too much, you couldn’t bare to be around anyone right now so pulling your shirt over your face you walked back inside. Every step towards that sideline felt like you were wading through quick sand, the boos from the US side ringing in your ear as you tried to head to the tunnel.
Before the match had begun your brother had FaceTime’d you, at the time you imagined looking up at them at the final whistle, perhaps celebrating with them. Now you couldn’t face looking where you knew they would be sat. The disappointment from yourself was too much to handle right now never mind disappointing your idol, your father.
You can vaguely remember Karen Carney coming out to meet you on the touchline, a kiss being pressed to your head and a little muttering of “keep it together” in your ear. Maybe it was for the best that everyone else was busy trying to reshuffle the pack a few sympathetic faces were thrown your way but you knew football didn’t have time for sentiment. Maybe it was also for the best that Phil didn’t even look your way, your favourite kitman met you to head back into the changing rooms with you but the rest didn’t even bat an eyelid at you.
It was only when you got inside, when you were all alone that the emotion fully came out.
The anger, the pure sadness, the hatred you felt towards yourself. It started that day and it felt then like you’d received a life sentence. A life sentence hating yourself.
……
“Phil, a lot happened out there today. Can you tell us your overriding emotions right now?”
“Oh I’m just proud of every dingle girl out there who competed to the very end. They gave it their all tonight and this result shouldn’t tarnish their pride in themselves or in each other. They stuck in the game when it seemed like other people threw it away.”
“We can’t shy away from Y/N Beckham, what were your thoughts?”
“As football players we know that every tackle we put in can lead to a card and she made that decision. It’s hard because I know the talent is in there but talent can’t be everything.”
“Do you think it should have been a red?”
“Like I said the referee was put in a position where she had to make the decision. We can all wish for different outcomes on the pitch but sometimes we just have to accept them.”
“How is she doing now?”
“As a team we are all very disappointed right and I think it’s the team we should be focusing on right now.”
“Fucking bullshit.” If this was your own bedroom perhaps you would have thrown the remote at the TV, instead you calmly had to just turn it off.
Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to turn on the TV when you got back to the hotel room. England had lost in the end, going 2-1 down to an Alex Morgan winner, they’d given it there everything but it just wasn’t enough.
In the two hours since the game finished you couldn’t count the number of times you’d cried. Firstly on your own, then with some of the girls, then on your own again on the bus and yet not a single word had been said. You knew you’d never be able to say sorry enough times and they knew it was no use telling you anything right now. Though you were crying it was almost as if you were blank inside, you couldn’t take in anything else right now. Your usual spot on the bus next to Keira was left vacant, instead you found a little corner and tried to kid yourself and other that you were asleep when how could you be with all the thoughts swirling in your mind.
Your phone lay switched off on the other side of the room, that interview being the first real insight you’d got into any opinions on the matter. He was right, he might not have said it outright but it was obvious he blamed you. When Phil brought you in for your first senior camp fans were concerned about favouritism but if anything it was the opposite. He had this almost saintly view of your dad and you would never be anything compared to him.
You knew he would be worried, he tried to protect you from everything growing up but now he was powerless. Yet even knowing that you couldn’t bring yourself to switch the phone on, answer any of the messages or calls you’d received before you turned it off on the couch.
It was all too much.
…..
The plan was always for you to spend the 2 weeks you had off after the weekend in the south of France, a quaint villa in the middle of nowhere which you’d had since you were a child. This place was one of the only true places you could just be yourself. You could vividly remember the holidays there once a year being the only time you felt truly free. Your father would spend every second of the day just being a father and your mother could show you her true self, the fun and carefree woman she was away from the pressures of the public eye. This was the place where yourself, Brooklyn and Romeo would spend hours on the beach with a ball and jumpers for goalposts, where you all taught Cruz to ride a bike and Harper to swim. This place meant so much to you.
It felt wrong to tarnish this place with the thoughts you had right now.
That’s why when you touched down in London the following day instead of rushing back to your apartment to pack and meet your family at the airport, you sat, staring at the clock. Time passed, they would have waited for you to arrive and slowly realised you weren’t coming. They would probably be worried and it was for that reason only that you finally turned your phone on. The messages flooded onto your lock screens, dozens of missed calls came through but you ignored them all simply sending a message to your mum claiming you were fine and didn’t want any company right now, only one of those statements being true.
Maybe you should have expected the phone call that immediately came up from your father but they also should have expected your immediate response, decline.
You always thought you were quite strong about the media. You’d grown up with famous parents, you sadly were used to comments about every aspect of yourself from your appearance to the way you spoke. In your time at Chelsea you’d had your fair share of stick from the fans about your place in football but before this you’d proved everyone wrong.
People called you dumb, you passed all your exams and were studying part time for a degree.
People commented on your appearance, your friends and family’s comments opposed that.
United fans taunted you in an FA cup match, you stuck the ball in the top corner and celebrated right in front of them.
All those times you’d known they were wrong and could do something about it. All that media training and yet in that moment you broke the number one rule and opened Twitter.
The results were more horrendous than you ever could have imagined. Not only were there comments about your performance, but they also came for your family, your friends, yourself. The death threats were constant, every other comment on an article link were suggesting this was punishable in unimaginable ways.
Instagram though more concentrated felt worse when you checked a post from your best friend outside of football, comments were left under her post for even just being associated with your name. Taunting her, taunting you and threatening the both of you. Not only had you disappointed everyone but now you were putting those you loved in danger.
Leaving Instagram, blurry eyed and shaking like a leaf, twitter was opened once again. You couldn’t stop and the more articled you read, the more the panic started to set in. People knew where you lived from media pictures, it wouldn’t be long before they came here again. You lived in a gated community but they’d find a way in. You’d never be alone.
Your throat was closing in, it was becoming harder to breath as you panicked more. The only thing you could do was phone the only person who would understand.
“Dad…. dad I need you.”
……
Everyone probably thinks they have the best family but in this moment you knew yours were the best. Thirty minutes on from that phone call you were in your old family living room, curled up in blankets next to your mum and dad, eating homemade chocolate cake and listening to your sister talk you through her week. The biggest drama in which being a girl who took the last apple juice carton and left her with orange juice, which to an eight-year-old felt like the end of the world.
You hadn’t even said another word on that phone call before your dad was ordering you to pack a bag and promised he would be with you in less than ten minutes.
“Why didn’t you go to France?” Your thoughts came out. “We were meant to go.”
“Like we were ever going to leave you here alone,” Your dad chastised you. “I know you well enough to know you might not have needed us in that moment but we were always going to be there when you did.”
“I didn’t mean to do anything, I thought I made the right decision and now people are threatening me. They’re going to find me.”
“They’re not.” Your mother immediately comforted you. “I’ve watched enough football over the years to know tackles like that are made every week and they never get punished. Football is a game, you live for it but it’s a game and people sometimes forget that. You were a big reason England even got to the semi-final and people need to remember that.”
“What did your teammates say?” Brooklyn asked from the next sofa with my other brothers.
“I haven’t spoken to them.”
“What? You flew home with them this morning.”
“I can’t look at them. They’re all sad because of me, everyone knows it, they were always on the back foot because of me and now they’re going home.”
“Millie messaged me this morning.” Brooklyn said. You were of course very close to the Chelsea girls and they’d met your family more times than you could count. You remember they exchanged numbers before you went away on a summer camp one year just in case they needed to contact your family. “She asked me to look after you, they’re not upset.”
“They’ll never admit it, at least not to my face but how can I play with them again after all this.”
“They’re your friends.” Your mum implored and she was right. You were the youngest in the world cup but yourself Leah, Keira and Georgia had formed a little England squad bond. Your sensible and often shy nature balancing out their craziness.
“They’re better off without me. I need to get out of here.”
“Out of where?”
“Out of England, I can’t stay.”
#woso imagines#woso imagine#woso#barcelona femeni#woso x reader#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#lionesses#leah williamson imagine#beckham#lionesses x reader
474 notes
·
View notes
Text
By: Chloe Cole
Published: July 28, 2023
On Thursday, her 19th birthday, Chloe Cole testified to Congress with a “final warning” that medical treatments to change the gender of confused children is horrific. Cole, who was given surgery as a teenager to become male and soon regretted it, said what she needed most was therapy, not a scalpel. Here is what she told lawmakers:
My name is Chloe Cole and I am a de-transitioner.
Another way to put that would be: I used to believe that I was born in the wrong body and the adults in my life, whom I trusted, affirmed my belief, and this caused me lifelong, irreversible harm.
I speak to you today as a victim of one of the biggest medical scandals in the history of the United States of America.
I speak to you in the hope that you will have the courage to bring the scandal to an end, and ensure that other vulnerable teenagers, children and young adults don’t go through what I went through.
Deceit & coercion
At the age of 12, I began to experience what my medical team would later diagnose as gender dysphoria.
I was well into an early puberty, and I was very uncomfortable with the changes that were happening to my body. I was intimidated by male attention.
And when I told my parents that I felt like a boy, in retrospect, all I meant was that I hated puberty, that I wanted this newfound sexual tension to go away.
I looked up to my brothers a little bit more than I did to my sisters.
I came out as transgender in a letter I sent on the dining room table.
My parents were immediately concerned.
They felt like they needed to get outside help from medical professionals.
But this proved to be a mistake.
It immediately set our entire family down a path of ideologically motivated deceit and coercion.
The general specialist I was taken to see told my parents that I needed to be put on puberty-blocking drugs right away.
They asked my parents a simple question: Would you rather have a dead daughter or a living transgender son?
The choice was enough for my parents to let their guard down, and in retrospect, I can’t blame them.
This is the moment that we all became victims of so-called gender-affirming care.
I was fast-tracked onto puberty blockers and then testosterone.
The resulting menopausal-like hot flashes made focusing on school impossible.
I still get joint pains and weird pops in my back.
But they were far worse when I was on the blockers.
Forever changed
A month later, when I was 13, I had my first testosterone injection.
It has caused permanent changes in my body: My voice will forever be deeper, my jawline sharper, my nose longer, my bone structure permanently masculinized, my Adam’s apple more prominent, my fertility unknown.
I look in the mirror sometimes, and I feel like a monster.
I had a double mastectomy at 15.
They tested my amputated breasts for cancer.
That was cancer-free, of course; I was perfectly healthy.
There is nothing wrong with my still-developing body, or my breasts other than that, as an insecure teenage girl, I felt awkward about it.
After my breasts were taken away from me, the tissue was incinerated — before I was able to legally drive.
I had a huge part of my future womanhood taken from me.
I will never be able to breastfeed.
I struggle to look at myself in the mirror at times.
I still struggle to this day with sexual dysfunction.
And I have massive scars across my chest and the skin grafts that they used, that they took of my nipples, are weeping fluid today, and they’re grafted into a more masculine positioning, they said.
After surgery, my grades in school plummeted.
Everything that I went through did nothing to address the underlying mental health issues that I had.
And my doctors with their theories on gender that all my problems would go away as soon as I was surgically transformed into something that vaguely resembled a boy — their theories were wrong.
The drugs and surgeries changed my body, but they did not and could not change the basic reality that I am, and forever will be, a female.
Depths of despair
When my specialists first told my parents they could have a dead daughter or a live transgender son, I wasn’t suicidal.
I was a happy child who struggled because she was different.
However at 16, after my surgery, I did become suicidal.
I’m doing better now, but my parents almost got the dead daughter promised to them by my doctors.
My doctor had almost created the very nightmare they said they were trying to avoid.
So what message do I want to bring to American teenagers and their families?
I didn’t need to be lied to.
I needed compassion.
I needed to be loved.
I needed to be given therapy that helped me work through my issues, not affirmed my delusion that by transforming into a boy, it would solve all my problems.
We need to stop telling 12-year-olds that they were born wrong, that they are right to reject their own bodies and feel uncomfortable with their own skin.
We need to stop telling children that puberty is an option, that they can choose what kind of puberty they will go through, just like they can choose what clothes to wear or what music to listen to.
Pseudoscience
Puberty is a rite of passage to adulthood, not a disease to be mitigated.
Today, I should be at home with my family celebrating my 19th birthday.
Instead, I’m making a desperate plea to my elected representatives.
Learn the lessons from other medical scandals, like the opioid crisis.
Recognize that doctors are human, too, and sometimes they are wrong.
My childhood was ruined along with thousands of de-transitioners that I know through our networks.
This needs to stop. You alone can stop it.
Enough children have already been victimized by this barbaric pseudoscience.
Please let me be your final warning.
Thank you.
Might as well call her a murtad and kufr.
"The medical industry mutilated me, maybe don't mutilate other kids," shouldn't require bravery or renouncing an ideology.
Reminder: A minor under the age of 18 is too young to agree to a cellphone contract. 🤦♀️
#Chloe Cole#detrans#detransition#gender ideology#queer theory#medical malpractice#medical scandal#medical mutilation#gender affirming#gender affirming care#affirmation model#double mastectomy#gender cult#sex trait modification#genderwang#religion is a mental illness
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.
love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.
( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )
━━ part three.
“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You look down at the post. The photos, carefully taken a few nights ago while getting ready for a dinner gala you’d been brought along to as Sophia’s plus one, are pretty. She and you had scrolled and sorted and scrolled and sorted some more trying to pick the perfect ones, and then you’d written and rewritten the caption more times than you could count before finally settling on something vague but faintly implicit.
You study it for a moment longer, then look back up to your friend.
She smirks. “Trust me. It'll work. I got an ex-boyfriend to come crawling back begging for another chance by making him think I was already moving on.”
“It just seems… mean,” you murmur, frowning. You want Oscar to like you— you want it a lot— but you're not sure if this is the way you want to go about it. “Isn’t this just manipulating him?”
Sophia sighs and falls back onto the bed beside you. She gives you a look, gestures down to your phone, and then curls around your shoulder so she can peer down at the screen. “It’s not a soft launch. There’s no guy. The caption doesn’t mention anyone. If he gets the impression that you’re with someone else, then that’s on him.”
You trust her, of course, but this is Oscar. You’ve known him for years. He’s your brother’s best friend, and for the longest time, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend too. As twins, anything Logan did you tended to do with him— soccer, swimming, biking. You even had shared birthday parties growing up. Karting was the first real thing he’d done on his own, but even then you’d always been close by, and that meant you’d always been close by to Oscar too.
Like she can sense your continued hesitation, Sophia speaks up again. “If you post that, and he doesn’t react, then that’s that. You don’t have to do it again.”
“I just— I don’t know.” You worry your lip between your teeth. “I just don’t think it’s the type of thing that he’d go for. He’s, you know, polite like that, I guess? If he thought I was taken, or moving on, or something, then he’d respect that and wouldn’t bother me.”
The silence hangs in the room. She’s still leaning against you, one hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and the other hugging you into her. When you stand, she lets you go easily, watching as you begin to pace the length of your bedroom, phone clenched tightly in your hands.
When you finally come to a halt in the corner farthest from the bed, you turn and meet her gaze shyly, “What if he stops ‘maybe’ having feelings for me because he thinks I'm taken? Or, what if he thinks I’m not interested and so he doesn’t ever bring it up?”
“Then you take one for the team and you tell him,” she shrugs. “Woman up and admit that the entire time you were out in that fancy dress of yours with those roses, you’d wished it was him who had gotten them for you and you’d wanted it to be him you were getting dressed up for.”
You look back down to your phone.
You’ve never done this before— boys, at least. The chase. Europe hadn’t been a very easy place to live— not with a schedule that made keeping friends virtually impossible, let alone a boyfriend. When you moved back to the United States, you were focused more on your career, prioritizing yourself over anything else.
You’d been single for so long that you hadn’t been in any hurry to change things, but now the lack of experience is making you nervous. Apart from movies and books and the borderline horror stories Sophia has told you about her own disastrous love life, you don’t know the first thing about dating.
“Y/N, is this about Oscar or something else?”
You look up, still biting at your lip. “What if we break up and I’ve ruined a friendship?”
Sophia raises an eyebrow, “Is he the kind of guy that would throw away a friendship because things didn’t work out?”
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna say no, that he’d be totally fine and we would be able to pretend like nothing happened and go back to how we were before it all, but I can’t,” you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed again. “Context matters too. What if it’s a really messy breakup and we can never look at each other the same? What if he does something so unforgivable that it ruins his friendship with my brother? Logan worked hard to make friends and this first season was rough for him. He’s the only American driver on the grid, and they weren’t exactly welcoming. But Oscar was there for him and I would never forgive myself if I did something to ruin that.”
“What could Oscar do that would be so unforgivable it would ruin a friendship?”
You fall back onto the mattress. “I don’t know that either! Realistically he wouldn’t do anything because that’s just who he is— he’s like the nicest most genuinely sweet guy I’ve ever met. But I’m not a fortune teller! I can’t look into the future and know that he won’t get tired of me and go find some other girl, or, I don’t know.”
You can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes and wipe at them harshly.
Sophia notices and lays down beside you, pulling you into her side again. She runs her fingers through your hair and lets you compose yourself a bit more before she speaks up again. When she does, it’s— “You’re so afraid of the worst-case scenario that you aren’t even letting yourself take the chance. Sometimes you just gotta leap before you look and believe that you’ll land on solid ground.”
“I hate when you get philosophical on me,” you murmur, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.
She sits back up and rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Puh-lease. As if you’d ever get anything done without my wizened words of advice.”
You sniffle and wipe the last remnants of tears from your eyes, then sit up with her and look back down at your phone. The unfinished post still stares back up at you.
“What if I just—” you delete the caption for the umpteenth time and let your fingers dance across the screen, “—say this instead?”
Sophia leans over your shoulder, reads the new caption, pauses, and purses her lips. She reads it again, hums, and then breaks out into a grin. An incredulous laugh slips out and she turns to you with shining eyes. “You’re a damn genius! I knew you were worried over nothing. You just gotta stop getting into your head so much.”
INSTAGRAM.
liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,827 others
yourusername honey, i’m still free. take a chance on me.
view all 7,631 comments
user WHAT???
user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???
↳ user she’s literally saying she’s still free?? why would she say that if this is a soft launch?? 😭😭
logansargeant should’ve taken me with you 😒
↳ yourusername logie we both know you hate black tie events
user girl idk how you can do it i’d be spilling out of that dress with one wrong turn
user THE ROSES?? THE BABY’S BREATH?? I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS
landonorris slay girl queen boss
↳ yourusername lando… what…
↳ landonorris i’m in my supportive era 😌💅 you should try it sometime
user i NEED to know where that dress is from omg
user oh to be a young rich and beautiful socialite
user not to be delulu but there’s a surprising lack of op81 in these comments 👀
INSTAGRAM.
liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 429,868 others
oscarpiastri it’s summer somewhere right?
view all 1,021 comments
landonorris hm this caption seems familiar 🤨 i wonder what it could be referencing 🤔
user GOOD LUCK IN 2024 OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡
user wishing this were me rn
user i’m too delulu for this rn 😭
↳ user i’m waiting for y/n to show up in these comments
↳ user did they have a fight or smth??? they haven’t commented on each other’s last few posts
user gosh that’s the dream rn
When you answer the unknown number, on your way back to your room with a tub of ice cream and a plan to eat away your disappointment at the failure of Sophia’s plan, the last thing you expect is to hear Lando Norris of all people on the other end. There’s no greeting, no introduction, just an immediate— “Yeah, so, I’m gonna need you to fill me in on the sitch.”
For a brief moment, all you can do is stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, wondering if this is real. You’ve had maybe a few brief conversations with Lando throughout your various visits to the paddock across the season, and though he was very nice and polite, and all of your interactions were friendly, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. Certainly not “swap numbers and call one another” type of friends, either. Your most recent socializing has been strictly confined to the comment sections of Instagram posts.
“Hello? Y/N?”
You clear your throat, “Sorry. What?”
“The sitch? Situation? That’s an American slang word, I thought you knew that.” He says it so matter-of-factly. As if that’s the only thing you could be even remotely confused about in this whole interaction.
“No,” you answer, shaking your head as if it’ll somehow straighten out the spinning of your mind. “I know what the word means, Lando. I’m just wondering why you of all people are calling me right now? How’d you even get my number?”
You can hear music and voices on the other end of the line, muffled and distant, and then a door opens and closes and the extra noise is gone. Lando takes a deep breath and sighs, “If you must know, I got it from Alex, who got it from Lily, who got it from you. So, you know, transitive property means technically I got it from you, too.”
“I’m gonna choose to ignore how wrong all of that is,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continue down the hall and eventually slip into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you.
You do recall giving your number to Lily, and the two of you have shared a few messages since the end of the season— mostly typical check-ins and catching up with the happenings of your individual lives. Occasionally she sends you recipes she thinks you’d like, and you do the same. You knew she’d given it to Alex because she’d asked you first if that was okay, and all Alex had sent was a brief well-wishes when Williams had confirmed Logan’s re-signing, accompanied by a short message that Lily was looking forward to seeing you in the paddock again.
Ignoring all of that, however, you focus on the matter at hand. “Why are you calling? Isn’t it crazy late in Monaco right now?”
He hums. “I’m the slightest bit tipsy, but I cannot take it anymore. If I see one more caption with underlying subtext like this is a forbidden romance in a period drama I am going to, quite frankly, lose my mind. I need you to explain to me what in the fuck is going on between you and Oscar.”
You pause, and then you groan. “Oh my God.”
“Yes, ‘oh my God’ indeed. Now please explain.”
You heave a sigh, because you know he isn’t going to drop this, but you also know that if anyone could help you more than Sophia, it’s probably Lando. He’s Oscar’s teammate, and at the very least, if you can’t talk to Logan, you can talk to the only other person who probably knows him just as well.
“It’s a long story,” you mumble, curling up in your bed.
He makes a sound, like a scoff. “Okay? I have plenty of time.”
So you start from the beginning. Between spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, you detail how it all started because of a message of condolence, how that had led to a rendezvous for drinks, and how that had led even further to him kissing you in the car as he’d dropped you off at your hotel.
He’s silent up until you mention that Oscar hadn’t acknowledged the kiss at all afterward, and then he makes an affronted noise and mutters something under his breath about stupid guys and heads in asses.
You admit that part of it was your own fault, that you hadn’t attempted to communicate either because you’d been afraid of the reaction and potentially the rejection, but that you’d been kicking yourself ever since for missing out on being able to talk face to face about things when you’d had the chance.
It all culminates in you explaining your current situation, and you tell him about your talk with Sophia and then your friend’s self-proclaimed mastermind plan, which had failed spectacularly when Oscar hadn’t even seen the post.
When you’re finished, there’s a moment of silence before he bursts into laughter.
You flush red in embarrassment and hug the tub of ice cream closer to your chest, feeling miserable and ashamed, but also like you deserve it all anyway. The tub isn’t freezing cold anymore, but the chill still seeps in through your shirt faintly, and it’s comforting against the heated blush.
“Sorry,” he says when his cackling has died down to chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I actually do want to help. I genuinely can’t take one more post with a caption that’s all thinly veiled pining.”
You pause, fiddle with your spoon for a moment, and then hesitantly ask— “Do you know if he likes me?”
Lando goes quiet, and then he hums and admits that he doesn’t. “But,” he adds quickly, “just because I don’t have total confirmation doesn’t mean it isn’t basically obvious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know Oscar.”
You sigh, “But how are you going to help? You can’t just ask.”
“I don’t need to,” he answers, like you’re crazy for thinking he’d do something like that. “I’ve got a plan.”
Great. You run a hand down your face and try to stay optimistic. Another plan.
━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry
━━ a/n: a bit more writing heavy this part, and a bit longer because of it, but i'm proud of how it turned out! we're finally getting somewhere, and now we've got lando joining the team. genuinely had so much fun writing him, so i'm excited to feature him in future parts!
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri imagine#social media au#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#logan sargeant#alex albon#lando norris
531 notes
·
View notes
Text
My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 2
Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.
Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF
After you'd spent the week at home you travelled to France, you asked McLaren to set you in a different hotel from the other drivers. You found one that was cheaper and still within a decent distance from the race track.
Your sisters in your groupchat that didn't have your bothers in, had texted you telling you Lando was getting worried you wouldn't be showing up for this race. It was Thursday and normally drivers would come to the paddock for media duties but when he came it was just him doing stuff for the F1 YouTube and being pestered by the McLaren social media teams for content.
"Zac where is she, you guys wont tell me and I'm worried she wont be here for practice which starts in 20 minutes!" Lando asks Zac whose in sat in hospitality having a pre-race coffee.
"As far as I'm aware, she's already in her car getting ready for the practice session ... so I'd get yourself down there now so you can get a good time Lando" he smiles, Lando rushed to the garage Zac slowly trailing behind him, wanting to get to the garage to get a set of headphones and sit with the race engineers.
"Y/N can you hear?" you hear through your in ears.
"Loud and clear, let me know when i can leave the pit" you say shuffling down in your seat to test the pedals.
"Nico, the pedals are feeling a little stiff, its like there's no traction" you complain as your directed out onto the pit lane.
"Okay, just do a slow lap, testing the breaks and make sure the throttle is all okay. Then we'll see if we need to bring the car in quickly before a flying lap.
As you'd gone round on a normal lap, it was determined that there was an issue with the breaks, the minute you'd tried to do the flying lap your car had major under steer. You'd managed to keep it out the gravel but you had spun out. You were called back to the pits and only placed P16.
You slammed your wheel onto the bonnet, and the engineers all immediately started to work on your car. You talked with them helping them out.
You spied Lando's car in the corner of your eyes being pulled into his half of the garage.
"Y/N hey" he says jumping out the car pulling him helmet off.
"Kinda busy trying to fix this trash can of a car right now Lando, later" you say not even sparing him a glance. Grumbles come from the mechanics making you whisper an apology as they jokingly scowl at you.
Was it petty that you weren't speaking to your brother, yes.
Was it petty that you were trying to get him to have a spoon of his own medicine for the way he'd treated you in Azerbaijan, yes.
Were you going to stop right now? Nope!
"Oh, erm okay well I'm going to go grab something to eat before the next practice" he smiles.
"Cool" you nod a smile, before kneeling down pointing something out to the mechanic that didn't look quite right.
"I'll be back in a bit, will the car be ready for FP2?" you ask.
"Should be, just needs some greasing and tightening. Trust us you'll be flying out there in no time!" the head mechanic says and you smile nodding softly before walking out towards the rest of the motorhomes.
You walked past, shyly waving to the drivers she encountered. Sky had seen her but were already busy interviewing Christian Horner and Toto Wolff who were currently talking about the championship this year and Mercedes rough start to the season in Bahrain.
"Y/N?" a voice asks from a table outside the Red Bull hospitality.
"Oh! Max, hey how have you been" you exclaim crossing over the Sky cameras who unbeknownst to you followed you for later review. You pull him into a hug, happy to finally see someone on the grid who hadn't upset you in the last few weeks.
"I'm good but i think the actual question is, are you okay?" he asks rubbing up and down your arm.
"Yeah, I just don't really know how to even talk to Lando about all of this, he's never not been there for an achievement of mine up until now. The team's strategy was shit, and I got us more points passing Lando, i was on the fresher tires, I had DRS i don't understand why they wouldn't want me to overtake" you complain, you really genuinely couldn't understand it.
It wasn't like this in Formula 2.
"You'll come to learn, that people don't like being my team-mate because im golden boy. I was the hot shot that Horner took a gamble on and he won jackpot. It's never easy being the second driver on a team to a golden boy" he advises, making you look down tears in your eyes.
Is that all Zac thought of you? The secondary to your golden boy hot shot brother.
Well that just wouldn't fly, you'll show them that your made of more and that you are worthy of sharing the seat with your brother.
"You know, keep it up Schat, Horner's been keeping an eye on you. So have Mercedes and Ferrari" Max whispers leaning in and holding your waist. You gasp as he leans back looking at you nodding before wandering off and into the Red Bull motorhome.
You check your phone for the time seeing that you really should make your way back to the McLaren garage to see if your car is ready.
"We didn't talk" you hear from behind you and a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back to them.
Charles
"I don't want to talk to you Charles" you grunt shrugging his arm off.
"Why not?" he asks looking over you.
"I think you know why, just concentrate on FP2 Charles" you say, for the first time you see a sort of desperation in his eyes. It's almost as if he came here with the intention to say something to you, but he also doesn't want to admit it.
"Y/N... wait" he starts again but you continue walking. You manage to get back to the motorhome and see Lando sat in the hospitality, he was with his personal trainer Jon and then the performance engineer Jarv.
You walk past them and here Jarv say something to your brother.
"Go follow her, you need to sort this out before the race"
"She doesn't want to talk to me, I've tried" he groans as you wait behind the door just in earshot of them.
"You call earlier in the garage trying? Jheez man" Jon laughs before getting up and discarding of his food tray.
"Your right!" Lando sighs before jumping up to come and find you. You start to walk away so it didn't look like you were listening in to their conversation.
"Y/N, please can we talk" Lando says stopping you right by the coffee cart.
"Mmmmm"
"Look, I was terrible the other day. Your my twin and we've shared everything together. I- I'm sorry i wasn't there to celebrate with you. It's just annoying when Jon's telling me that you've been told not to go for the overtake and then you do. I see now that you taking over worked better for the team but i cant help but be upset" he tries but you look at him in shock, why on earth was he making this moment, this apology about him and how he was affected.
"How are you still making this about you?" you scoff.
"What what do you mean, I'm explaining why i wasn't there..."
"By saying that I've upset you, when I'm the person you've affected. Do you even know what they have been saying about me in articles because of this whole thing with you and Charles? I'm being told I'm a shit driver and i shouldn't have my seat and that my own brother and multiple other drivers agree... I'm being told im a danger to the sport and that I wont have a seat come next year!" you sigh, knowing that he had a right to be upset about you overtaking him, but it shouldn't be at you.
"I'm sorry, I know I ruined it. I should've celebrated with you! Its my fault" he says, before pulling you into a hug. You hug him back, your shoulders sagging into it. Your brother was always your other half, you guys were two peas in a pod. It broke your heart when he left you behind in F2 before going to F1 in 2019. So this year, being the first year that you were back driving with your brother it was special for you.
"It's not like I wont have other podiums to celebrate this year" you jab him making him laugh.
"Oh yeah, not if i have anything to say about it!" he jokes as you both start walking back to the garage.
"I'm still upset though, just so you know. But I forgive you" you smile as you both get back to the cars.
"Hey, how's the car looking?" you ask the people around your car.
"You'll be good to go, breaks are sorted and its looking good!"
And that was true, you came P3 in FP2.
You didn't have a good night sleep, thinking about Charles and how he's tried to talk to you today, how you'd made up with Lando, and you kept asking yourself if it was too quick. But what was in your mind the most was Max and what he'd told you and how he'd been so nice to you over the last few months.
FP3 the next day was worse and you came P10, which then set the mood for Qualifying, where you finished P10 which would mean that your are in the middle for starting the next day.
Lando was in P8 meaning he was directly in front of you, you were hoping you could get a slipstream from him, and overtake Fernando on the start.
By the end of the French Grand Prix you and your brother both simultaneously moved up 4 places ending with him in P5 and you in P6, Zac was happy as you'd managed to stir Ferrari and get ahead both of them.
You were walking to your car, when you notice a sleek Ferrari next to your McLaren and a familiar man leaning against it.
"Charles I really cant deal with this, the interviews have tired me out. I'll see you in Styria!" you say, clicking the keys to open your car.
"Y/N please I need to apologize" he says grabbing at you wrist again turning you round.
"Charles, look. I forgave Lando for not being at my podium and yelling at me, but you actively told me I didn't deserve my seat when i've had to work twice as hard for it than anyone on the grid. So to be told that its undeserved is horrible because this is all I've ever wanted..." you say tears brimming your eyes.
"I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'll think I'll regret this forever if I don't do this" he says before grabbing your cheeks with his hands, one sliding down to your neck before leaning in and placing his lips against yours.
You kiss back, it's more out of anger, you weren't sure why you actually kissed him back. After the initial shock you pulled away, your hand slipping in between you too to push him away.
"Charles what the hell" you shout, looking at him eyes wide.
"I'm sorry, but the reason I get so annoyed with you is because I've had a crush on you for years. At first I hated that you always were better than me, I got more aggressive and you were the safer driver back then, so you'd give me room let me pass. I knew I'd never have a chance with you, getting you attention was easier when I teased you, but i guess as i got older i got more sour at you, and how everyone seemed to adore you and grab your attention apart from me" he reasons now holding her wrist again.
"Charles, you cant, you cant do that" you cry.
"What, I cant admit what I've been feeling for you for years. Y/N please" he begs, the puppy eyes looking down at you as you shrunk yourself.
"What's going on over here" Max asks coming over looking between you and Charles, you turn away so that he doesn't see the tears in your eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of your orange McLaren rain jacket.
"Nothing Max" you say before turning back round smiling at the both of them.
"Come on Y/N. I know you better than that" Max said but you decided to stay silent.
"Is he bothering you again? Charles, just leave her the fuck alone. We spoke about this after Azerbaijan..." Max says pushing him away from you.
"Max don't! Its fine I promise, I'll see you both in Austria okay?" you say getting into the car. You sit there for a second, contemplating what the hell just happened before you realize both the drivers are still stood there watching you.
What. The. Hell.
A/N: I don't know if i like this, it feels like I made her and Lando make up too quickly, and Charles felt kinda quick. But for future ideas in this series, her and Lando making up now means room for more angst in the future *wink,wink*
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#charles leclerc#charles lecrelc x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen#lando norris imagine#lando norris#f1 fandom#max verstappen fanfic
540 notes
·
View notes
Text
JAMIE TARTT | i'd be better armed if you agreed to take it.
PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.0k
SUMMARY: higgins' new assistant happens to be an old friend of the reader's, and their reunion hits jamie with major feelings of jealousy. when the team thinks that the pair of them are going on a date soon, jamie decides enough is enough.
WARNINGS: language
A/N: i actually like this story a lot better especially the dialogue! + jealous!jamie was really fun to write HAHAHA i hope that all of you enjoy this and title is from the song '(you) on my arm' by leith ross :) also i apologize in advance i'm not the best at writing kissing scenes
You loved your job, truly. This was the first time you've had a decent, no, fucking amazing boss that didn't make you want to pull your hair out every time they called you into the office.
But being Rebecca's assistant also meant that you sometimes had to help Higgins out with... well, whatever the Director of Football Operations does. It was fine in the beginning, just scheduling appointments and keeping track of ticket sales, but once Richmond got promoted, it felt like your work doubled.
It only took two weeks before you begged Rebecca to get Higgins an assistant of his own. Luckily, she obliged and asked Higgins to start interviewing possible candidates for the job.
You hoped that whatever extra load you got due to Higgins occupying himself with selecting an assistant would be worth it from how much would be lifted off you when he did. So when you got the message from Rebecca to help delegate your duties to the new assistant, you practically ran to the clubhouse that morning.
You were too excited messaging your boss that you'd be there soon that you ended up bumping into someone near the entrance.
"Shit!" You exclaim as you almost lose your balance, but are steadied by the other person who turned out to be Jamie.
"Ay, watch where you're going, yeah?" Jamie warned casually, as he let go of your arms once you recovered.
"Sorry, Jamie." You straighten up and walk in with him. "I'm just really excited. Higgins finally picked an assistant and they're here today."
"Oh yeah, you were fucking drowning in work a few weeks ago." And by drowning, he meant it literally. The football player recalled seeing you walking past the locker room carrying a stack of papers taller than you were. You refused any help from the team, partly because they had to get to training and mainly because you didn't want them to see how the tear stains on some of the pages.
"Yeah," you chuckle at the memory. "But, after a few days of helping the new kid out, I'll finally be free." You stretch your arms up in the air and cheer. You were too busy celebrating to notice how soft Jamie's expression had become.
He loved seeing you act yourself around him, a big jump from when you used to glare at him around the office. He had denied it for a while, but Jamie started to like you around the time he'd gotten back from Man City.
You knew him before then, when he was a massive prick who stepped over — even literally at times, — his teammates. But after he returned, you felt bad for the guy for how the rest of the team was treating him, no matter if he deserved it. Ted had told you about what they talked about when Jamie approached him about joining the team again, and a part of you felt like he needed at least some kind of welcoming presence in the building.
You started greeting him more often when you ran into each other in the halls and sometimes offered him the candies you keep in your desk drawer whenever he passed your desk, just small things. Jamie would usually just end up hanging out with you during his breaks because he didn’t have anyone else to spend it with. The first few times, he would just sit there in silence while you worked, but one “How’s your day going?” from you, and he was more than willing to chat.
Then, of course, he gradually regained the team’s trust and started hanging out with them, but even then, your little interactions with him didn't stop. He'd invite you whenever the team had a get-together and would sometimes drop bags of candies at your desk to "re-stock" your drawer. You just thought it was his way of returning your kindness. But what you didn't realize was that the star football player was starting to fall for you.
Jamie tried to ignore it, saying to himself that he just felt indebted to you, but then it started to manifest in different ways. How he would try and come up with reasons to approach you the next day, how he'd get distracted whenever you had to visit the pitch during practice, and how your awkward habits became something he looked forward to. It's been a while since he felt like this about anyone and was more anxious about rejection than he's felt about any of his games, so he didn't make any obvious pass at you.
So now, as you asked the receptionist where the Director of Football Operations was, Jamie decided to wait for you to spend as much time with you as possible.
You notice Jamie staying back and relayed the information to him. "Higgins is introducing them to the team, so I guess I'll be going with you to the locker room." You nudge him with your shoulder as you continue to walk through the building. You've always tried your best to ask casual with Jamie, possibly in an effort to make yourself feel normal around him and not constantly blushing every time he looked at you.
As you approach the room, you hear Higgins explaining what the new assistant would be doing for the players. "So if ever you need help with anything I've listed, you can go to Anthony Perez here, instead."
Anthony Perez. No fucking way. You and Jamie enter the locker room and are instantly greeted by the sight of an old friend.
"Anthony, you fucking bastard!" You scream enthusiastically, causing everyone in the room to turn to you, including Anthony. It takes him a second before registering who you were. The moment he does, he raises his arms and you practically leap into him for a hug.
"Oh my god!" Anthony exclaims, as he lets go of you and puts you down.
"I didn't know you were the new assistant!" You lightly smack his arm.
"I didn't know you even worked here!" He defends himself as the two of you turn to find the entire team's eyes on you, including Jamie's.
"Shit, sorry," You laugh as you make some distance between you and Anthony. "Didn't mean to make our reunion so dramatic."
"I assume you two know each other?" Higgins asks and you both nod.
"Anthony and I went to school together," You quickly explain. "From sixth form to uni. Of course, I haven't heard from him in two years." You jokingly glare, causing him to roll his eyes.
"Sorry, I got busy, okay?" He whispers an apology before you both chuckle again.
"Well, I hope your friendship will make it easier to help him get accustomed to the job." You smile at Higgins before the three of you excuse yourself to let the players get ready for training.
You're so engrossed in catching up with Anthony that you didn't even notice the look Jamie was giving him.
"They seem close!" Dani innocently says as he puts his shoes on.
"You don't think something is going on with them, do you?" Colin chimes in.
"Well, she's never even mentioned him before, so I doubt it," Sam argues, but Isaac shakes his head. "Nah bruv, that hug was way too intimate for just friends."
"I've seen her hug Keeley and Rebecca like that, too. That might just be how she greets her friends." Jan offers and the team continues to debate it, but at that point, Jamie has had enough. It was already shit having to watch that interaction, but having your teammates talk about it as you pretend not to care? It could not get any worse.
Jamie pulls out a can of body spray from his locker and slams it closed, before turning to everyone. "Can everyone just stop talking about it and get ready?"
The room goes quiet, as the football player turns around and starts getting changed. The rest of the team exchange looks, before getting ready themselves. Most of them had a hunch that something was going on between the two of you but didn't have any proof, until now. They just hoped they were wrong about you and Anthony, in an attempt to stop Mt. Jamie from erupting.
——
For most players, if something happened right before training that put them in a sour mood, it would mess up their performance on the pitch. Of course, Jamie wasn't like most players. He might be playing even better during that training period. The coaches didn't even have to give him the signal; he was already in 'prick' mode.
Maybe it was the appearance of Anthony or the fact that you had never been that excited to see him even though he thought you guys were becoming close, but he was playing aggressively and was much more focused than he needed to be for a practice game. The coaches started to take notice after he viciously tackled one of the second teams.
"Whistle!" Roy shouts, pausing their game. Ted takes a step forward and shouts, "Hey Jamie! Love the passion, but those are still your teammates. Ya'll have a game next week, so better save that attitude for the real one."
"Okay, coach!" Jamie replies through gritted teeth. He takes a deep breath as they continue to play, trying to calm himself down. Ted was right; there was no point in taking out his anger here. Not when the source of said anger was just inside the building.
Once the morning session was over and they were off for lunch, Jamie headed over to Rebecca's office, expecting to see you waiting at the desk outside like you usually were, but instead, he almost runs into the owner of the football club.
"Jamie!" Rebecca exclaims, backing away from the football player to avoid a collision. "What brings you here?" He only needed to glance at the empty table for her to know what was going on. "Oh, well, if you're looking for her, better head to Mr. Higgins' office. She's helping his new assistant get used to the system."
This causes the player's jaw to clench. Jamie mutters a quick thanks before heading to the Director of Football Operations' office, where he found you hunched over a chair and directing something on the laptop to Anthony.
You had spent the first hour of the day basically catching up with Anthony about what you've been doing the past few years. Once you ran out of stories though, you were forced to actually start teaching him what to do.
You started with the simple things like how to organize the emails, fixing the schedule, and what information to take note of, so you could ask your bosses' about it. Anthony's a quick learner, so you guys were making good progress. Once he practically mastered the routine, the two of you went to the clubhouse cafe to get some early lunch. Most of the food there was pre-packed and they’d usually just microwave it, but over the years, you've developed a fondness for them. You bring back the food to Higgins' office and continue to work on it till you hear someone clearing their throat.
You perk up when you realize who it came from. "Jamie! Hi, what're you doing here?"
Jamie's eyes bounce between the two of you, before settling on your own. "Well, I checked your desk but you weren't there, and Rebecca said you'd probably be here, so I went over here. And now I'm wondering if you wanted to get lunch?"
You move to say yes, but quickly back out when you remember the wrappers on the desk. "Oh, sorry Jamie, Anthony and I just ate something from the cafe cause we wanted to spend the lunchtime working on some emails. Maybe another time?" You try and hide the disappointment in your voice by giving Jamie a small smile.
Jamie's expression falters, but he quickly bounces back. "Sure, no problem. Bye," The football player waves at you — and just you, — before heading back downstairs. He shouldn't be acting like this. Feeling this dejected someone saying she can't have lunch with him?
You weren't fairing that well, either. Your shoulders slump once he disappears from view, then you turn back to Anthony who seems to be holding back a laugh. "What's with you?"
"Nothing, just amused at how even two years later, you still don't know how to talk to the guys you like."
You scoff at his response and hit his shoulder. "What do you mean? I do not like Jamie." You protest, which only causes Anthony to roll his eyes.
"Oh please, it's like you transformed back to a seventeen-year-old the way you got excited when he asked you to get lunch with him." You shake your head, but he continues. "It's clear as day that you have a crush on him."
“That word makes us sound like we're seventeen again," You retort, before redirecting the topic back to the task at hand.
But you knew he was right. Even back in the early days of working here, you couldn't deny that you found Jamie attractive. Anyone with eyes could see it, but he was dating Keeley and was a massive prick, so nothing ever came about from it.
Then, he started spending more time with you, checking up on you and stopping you in the halls just to chat. You realized that he was actually pretty sweet when he was off the pitch and you started to realize that you wanted to spend time with him, not just out of pity like before. Plus, you don't think he's seen anyone in a while, so there really was no reason for you to deny your feelings any longer.
Except, of course, the fear of getting rejected by him and ruining the steady and comfortable relationship you currently have. Which is a good reason, you think. You shake your head and try and continue your work in peace.
After spending your lunch writing up reports, it only took another hour to finish up both your and Anthony's duties, so the two of you update Higgins on your progress and ask if you could observe practice for a bit. He scans through your work, before happily letting the two of you go. The moment you get to the pitch, your eyes instantly look for Jamie who is doing pretty well, to no one's surprise. You join the coaches where they’re standing.
Anthony was already a big football fan, so he was able to recognize almost all of the players on the pitch. In fact, he was even saying things that you weren't aware of, despite your three years of working for the owner of a football club. He bends down to whisper a joke in your ear, but the amusement never hits because soon after, you hear O'Brien groaning in pain. You both look up to see Jamie already helping the goalkeeper up after kicking the ball right into his stomach.
"Whistle! Tartt, stop fucking injuring your teammates!" Roy shouts, to which Jamie quickly apologizes. The practice game continues, but not without you leaning to ask Beard something.
"Coach, is Jamie okay? He seemed fine when I was with him earlier," You turn your head, as Beard continues to watch the practice.
"He's been playing like that all day. Something must've pissed him off." You open your mouth to say something, but Beard reads your mind. "No, we did not give him the signal." You nod before turning back to the game.
You meet Jamie's eyes as he runs across the pitch, and you take the opportunity to give him a smile and a thumbs up, hoping it encourages him somehow. He only nods his head in acknowledgment before continuing, but you can tell in the next few plays that he seems to be calming down. After a while, you and Anthony decide to head back to the office after Rebecca asks you to send some emails on her behalf.
Jamie watched the two of you head back to the building and tried to ignore that growing feeling when Anthony leaned down and rested his arm on your shoulders. He tries and shakes himself right before continuing the game, ignoring all the possibilities of why he’d do that.
The real reason was that Anthony had decided to tease you, whispering close, "Somebody likes you," in a sing-songy voice. "And his name is Jamie Tartt doo-doo-do-doo—"
That exact remark makes you jab his side. "Shut the fuck up, Anthony. He does not." Anthony lets it go as the two of you reach your desk and he leaves you to do your work, though you can't help but feel warm inside at the thought of it being true.
—
Once he gets changed after training, Jamie practically ran upstairs to find you. Usually, he'd offer to drive you home and before Anthony, you'd be too tired to be polite and say no. He stopped himself from sending a message to you once he realized that you had already left. Maybe she's with Anthony, but Jamie shakes his head because fuck that. Jamie Tartt does not get hung over a girl. At least, the old him didn't.
New Jamie had been starting to hope that you stayed in the office longer just so he could see you again, even if you would be busy doing work. He sighs as he decides to leave the building when someone jumps in front to scare him. "Boo!"
"Jesus fucking Christ," he exclaims and steps back before seeing you losing your mind over his reaction. "What'd you do that for?"
"I'm sorry," You apologize in between your laughing fits. "I didn't realize how easily startled you were." After a few more seconds, you finally straighten up and lift two plastic bags.
Jamie gives you a confused look, before you explain, "When we went to watch training, Coach Beard said you've been playing like that the whole day which can only mean one thing; you're in a shit mood. And you don't have to tell me why, but,"
You hand him one of the bags and one whiff tells Jamie it's from that Indian restaurant he loves. "I thought some dinner would cheer you up," Jamie gives you a genuine smile, one you got used to seeing but always love when it shows up. “Because there’s nothing rich people love more than free food.” You add, causing him to roll his eyes.
"Plus, I wanted to make up for not having lunch with you, and celebrate the fact that I now actually have the time to do this again." You continue as the two of you walk over to Jamie's car.
You get in the passenger seat as Jamie turns the car on. The two of you have shared dinner there multiple times before, so you practically had a system for it, and Jamie always "pays you back" by giving you a ride home. You open all the dishes and Jamie quickly starts to devour it.
The two of you enjoy the dinner in silence, — except for the occasional "Pass the pita," or something of the sort — till Jamie decides to ask the burning question that’s been on his mind. "So, how did you and Anthony get so close?" It was an innocent question, but one whose answer could either ease Jamie's thoughts or amplify them ten-fold.
You look up at him, mid-bite, and quickly swallow the food, before replying, "Well, you already know we went to school together, but we were actually seated next to each other for a whole semester, so naturally we became close since we saw each other every day."
Jamie starts to clean up the empty containers but signals you to continue. "To be honest, I kinda liked him back then." Oblivious to how tense Jamie just got, you laugh. "But the crush didn't last long honestly, cause I realized that he wasn't really my type."
Jamie takes the opportunity. "What is your type, then?"
"Oh, hot footballers, naturally." You decide to give a somewhat honest answer, but cloak it in a layer of sarcasm to hopefully throw Jamie off. "Like Richard," You try and convince Jamie with your tone, but you can barely hold in your laughter afterward.
"Oh fuck off," Jamie rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh even harder. "I'm telling him that tomorrow."
"Jamie Tartt, you fucking wouldn't!" You spend the rest of the ride to your flat trying to get him to promise to say nothing, which ends with a pinky promise to secrecy.
—
The next few days are a mix of hanging out with Anthony, eating meals with Jamie, and finishing up work so you can spend the rest of the day chilling at your desk. You almost forgot what it felt like to have free time and actually relax during work breaks.
You arrive at the clubhouse and immediately head to the Coach's office as per Rebecca's instructions to deliver some documents for the season. There, you meet up with Anthony who also had to bring something to Ted.
When you realize the coach hasn't arrived yet, you decide to wait outside the locker room. Anthony turns to you. "Hey, I forgot to tell you yesterday, but Mina's visiting!" Mina was Anthony's girlfriend and also your former classmate, who once again, you haven't seen in two years. You perk up and ask when you’d get the chance to see her.
Anthony pulls out his phone before responding, "I can make a reservation for us somewhere at, 7 pm?" You quickly scan your mental to-do list and once you realize your schedule is free, you nod.
"Yeah, that works! We'll both be done with work, anyway."
The two of you are busy planning out your meeting with Mina that you don't notice Isaac and Colin eavesdropping as they make their way to the locker room. From the snippet that they heard, it sounded like the two of you were planning a night out, confirming their suspicions that there was something going on between the two of you.
They share this with Sam, who tries to reason with them. "Friends can go out to dinner without it meaning anything!"
But as they continue discussing it, the more it becomes harder to deny. I mean, the two of you were always together and not to mention, your shared history. They try and hide this from Jamie, — partly to save themselves from the football player's wrath during training, — but once the morning session was over, they crowd him and quickly explain the situation.
At this moment, Jamie didn't even protest their assumption of his feelings — he had accepted that he wasn’t the best at hiding it from them, — and simply stayed silent, which was incredibly worrying. They decide to leave him be and walk back to their lockers, trying to figure out a game plan. They thought you and Jamie would be great together and a guy from your past was not going to stand in the way of their teammate finding someone, not if they have anything to do with it.
Soon after, Anthony enters the locker room and calls out to Sam. The pair walk away to talk and Anthony starts, "Do you happen to have an open table at Ola's tonight? I'm planning to take someone special there and I know how great the food is."
"Well," Sam considers saying that they're fully booked — which big chance, they are, — and there's nothing he could do, but his guilt at even the thought of lying takes over. "Sure, don't worry." Anthony smiles and thanked the player before heading out, but not before promising that he'd send him the proper details later.
Sam heads back to his two teammates and explains what happened, to which Isaac suggests booking the whole restaurant for the team, crashing their date, and making sure they have no alone time together. Colin adds that they can possibly put something in Anthony's food to force him to go home earlier, which Sam quickly shuts down. They turn to Jamie to get his input, only to find an empty bench instead.
Said teammate was already making his way to your desk to talk. Maybe it was the adrenaline from practice or the fact that he drank three cups of coffee this morning after Roy's training session, but he wasn't going to let you go on that date without saying something.
Jamie makes it up the stairs and finds you typing away at your computer. You meet his eyes for a second, before warning, "Hold on, I'm just finishing this email."
The football player decidedly ignores that statement and exclaims, "Don't go on that date." That gets you to save the email as a draft and look up from your screen. Jamie walks closer to you and you stand up, and steer him to a remote corner. If this was what you thought it was, you’d rather not have the entire office witness it go down.
"I'm sorry, what?" You try and clarify.
"Look, some of the boys told me that you and Anthony are going out tonight and I," Jamie takes a breath, "I couldn't let you go through with it. At least, without admitting that I like you. I have liked you for a while now. I didn’t realize that someone could be so sweet and funny and attractive. It’s fucking insane actually, which is why if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know it’s stupid of me to not have admitted it till it’s too late, but if by chance you feel the same, then please do not go on that date and instead, maybe go on one with me?”
You take a step back. The guy who you've secretly been pining over for how many months at this point is now trying to stop you from going on a "date,” and so the only thing you can do is stare at him. You stay like that for a second before regaining your senses and taking his hand into yours and giving him a small smile. "Jamie…"
If there was any right time to admit your feelings, this would be it. You open your mouth to continue, but hear Anthony call out to you. You peek over the corner and when Anthony spots you, he quickly shouts, "Look who stopped by!" and moves to reveal Mina.
"Oh my god, you're here!" You exclaim, but turn back to Jamie who has stopped in his tracks and is still holding your hand. You quickly excuse yourself, "It's so nice to see you, but could you actually give me a minute?"
The couple gives you a curious look before Jamie peeks his head over the corner and Anthony immediately understands. The two of them go back downstairs, and you assume Anthony uses the time to explain to Mina what’s going on.
You turn back to Jamie, hoping that the moment isn't ruined, and find the football player still looking at you intently. You decide to get on with it. "Jamie, I don't know why the team thought we were going on a date, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The girl you just saw is Anthony's girlfriend, Mina, who we also went to school with." Jamie makes an 'o' with his mouth in realization and you lightly chuckle at his expression.
"She's visiting him for the weekend and we're planning to go out to dinner, the three of us, to catch up. I'm basically going to be a third-wheel all night." At this point, Jamie's expression is a cross of embarrassment and anger, likely directed at his gossiping teammates.
Your mind replays Jamie’s confession earlier. "Jamie, did you mean what you said?" Your voice is practically a whisper, but you just have to be sure. "Like right before we got interrupted?"
Instead of giving you a solid answer, Jamie lets go of your hand and cups your face before connecting your lips. It was a soft and gentle kiss as if the football player was still hesitant, but once you reciprocated it, Jamie's confidence came right back. Fuck, and he had every right to be as cocky as he was. He was an amazing kisser.
You're pressed up against the wall, almost getting lost in it, but you break apart to stop it from escalating further when you feel Jamie's hand travel to your thigh.
"Is that enough of an answer for you?" He asks, resting his forehead against yours as you take hold of his forearms. You simply roll your eyes at how easily Jamie returns to his usual self.
You peak down the corridor and thank the universe that no one passed by during this. The two of you separate and decide to head back downstairs — with Jamie never letting go of your hand, — so you could properly greet Mina.
As you walked, you decide to jokingly question, "Were you really that worried about me going on a date that you had to go all rom-com and tell me not to go?"
Jamie protests, "Well, it's more of the boys' fault, isn't it? They're the ones who got in my head." He pauses for a second. "And don't act like you never wanted something like that to happen to you."
You jab his side and Jamie pretends to be in pain, before laughing it off and slinging his arm on your shoulders. You wrap your arm around his torso. "Only if it's 'one in a million' Jamie Tartt doing it."
You finally find Anthony and Mina in the locker room, with the former introducing her to the players there as his girlfriend. Jamie enters to find the three culprits, looking guiltily at the couple. Minutes after Jamie left, Sam had gotten a text from Anthony saying that their reservation was for three and explained that you were coming along for a reunion dinner with his girlfriend.
The moment they see the two of you enter the room though, Colin, Isaac, and Sam can't help but share a satisfied look, only to be ruined by the glare Jamie sends their way. You laugh at the exchange and only remove yourself from Jamie to greet Mina. You give her a tight hug, confirming Jan's observation that you did greet most of your friends like that.
You pull Jamie towards you and introduce him to Mina, who shares the same teasing look as Anthony. The couple waves at the team to leave and get lunch together. They invite you to join them which you accept, but not before grabbing and squeezing Jamie's hand as a goodbye. The three of you walk away, discussing nearby cafes and restaurants. You hear some cheering from the locker room and you can't help but laugh at how easily the boys reconcile.
Once there's enough distance between yourself and the room, Anthony leans down. "Guess you finally figured out how to talk to boys."
"Who knew it would be Jamie fucking Tartt that managed to get you out of your shell?" Mina adds and you roll your eyes at the pair. They really were made for each other.
#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanficition#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tart fic#jamie tartt fluff#ted lasso fanfic#jamie tartt fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Under The Stars
Summary: A beautiful night in nature leads to some fun.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader
Warnings: Smut. 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI. Established relationship. Fingering.
See My Masterlist Here
You had been looking forward to this trip all month. Tony reserved a camping spot for all the Avengers. He said it would be good for everyone to get some fresh air. As spoiled as he is, you figured he meant you were going glamping. You imagined lavish tents with mattresses and air conditioning.
When you and the rest of the team arrived, you were surprised that Tony only had sleeping bags and regular tents for each of you. You all had to pair up, Tony and Pepper, Sam and Steve, Bruce and Natasha, Scott and Clint, Wanda and Vision, Thor and Loki, and you and your boyfriend, Bucky.
Tony gave the boys tent duty. You, Wanda, Natasha, and Pepper sat in your chairs by the lake enjoying a few drinks while watching. The tents put up a good fight against Earth’s mightiest heroes. Scott assembled his and Clint’s in just a few minutes. He explained that he used to go camping all the time as a kid. The others weren’t so lucky. Thor snapped one of the poles almost immediately. Loki stood watching in disgust, his arms folded across his chest.
Sam was trying to put it together while Steve silently read the instructions. Vision finished his right after Scott. Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose as he read the instructions then did each step. Bucky looked around at the others trying to mimic what they were doing. Tony gave Scott ten dollars to assemble his. When everyone was finally finished, Pepper got out the picnic baskets she packed.
You all spread out on the blankets you brought. You were happy to get a break from all the hustle and bustle of New York. You and Bucky shared the small cake Pepper placed in each basket. You couldn’t wait until it got dark. The stars were what you had looked forward to the most.
It was a lot cooler at night than during the day. You were thankful you brought an extra blanket. You covered yourself and Bucky, laying on his chest as you stargazed. The team talked about the beautiful night sky. Everyone was laughing and talking amongst themselves.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Bucky whispers in your ear, his hand laying on your stomach. “We’ve been together all day.” You smile back. You realize what he means when he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. “We can’t do that here.” You say quietly, trying not to catch anyone’s attention.
“Guess you’ll have to be quiet then.” He smirks, moving his hand lower. You look towards the others, but they weren't paying attention to you. They were too entranced with the beautiful night sky. Bucky dips two fingers inside, curling them perfectly. You clench around them, checking again to make sure your teammates don't see you.
"They aren't payin' attention to us, babe. Relax." He swirls the rough pad of his thumb against your clit, your vision blurs around the edges. "Already?" Bucky smirks, pumping his thick digits in and out of you. You never lasted long with him. He knew your body like it was his own, and to him it was. You belonged to him in every sense of the word.
His cold, vibranium hand grips your thigh, pulling your legs apart as he works his fingers faster, his thumb swirling in tandem. You were so close just from feeling his metal hand so close to your softest parts. Bucky never touched you with it during sex. He was still afraid a small part of when he was the Winter Soldier lurked somewhere deep inside him. So there was no way he would risk hurting you when he was in his most fragile state.
He lost control when he was intimate with you. He held himself back just in case something happened. "Bucky, please touch me with it." You beg, quietly, reaching for the back of his neck. His brows furrow as realization sinks in. "I can't, angel. What if i hurt you?"
"I trust you." You whisper. That statement alone destroyed all his hesitation. His icy fingers replaced his warm digits. You shiver from the contrast. "You like when I touch you with this? My sweet baby, she thinks she could handle it rough." You whine, eyes widening when you realize you were loud.
Bucky covers your mouth with his free hand, slipping his finger in your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek. You suck your arousal off his finger. He's never been like this with you before. He was always so gentle. You loved this new side of him. His vibranium thumb swipes your clit as he whispers against your ear. "When we get home, I'll fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk for a week. You'd like that wouldn't you?"
You cum around his metal fingers, his hand over your mouth barely conceals your cry. He lets you ride your orgasm out, flesh hand leaving your mouth, and smoothing down your hair. "You did so good for me." He praises, placing a kiss to your forehead. "Can we make it through one outing without someone fucking? What are we lovesick teenagers?! At least wait until you're in the damn tent!" Tony yells. You and Bucky smile at each other before bursting into a fit of laughter. "Sorry!" You both shout.
Tags
@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan
#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky marvel#james bucky barnes#bucky#bucky fanfic#james bucky buchanan barnes#bucky x you#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x y/n#bucky and reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes and reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky fanfiction#bucky imagine#bucky mcu#bucky oneshot#bucky smut#bucky x yn smut#bucky x yn#bucky x reader smut#bucky x female yn#under the stars
339 notes
·
View notes
Text
Red, White & Blue | M Barzal
part three of blue, white & orange
-
Mat was miserable and it showed. It fed over into practices and his on ice performance.
The islanders bailed out in the second round, no thanks to Mat’s horrible playing.
He spent the off season at home, not his usual extravagant plans with you by his side. He only flew back to BC for a few weeks before he got home and back to work. He needed to get his mind off you.
You’d blocked him and seemingly moved as he dropped by your apartment only to meet a nice Swedish man named Jakob living there now.
Your jacket and jersey still hung over his dining room chair where he dropped them that night he got home. The jersey was still dirty from the floor and the jacket still smelled of her perfume.
When the season rolled back around in August Mat was all eyes forward. He still hadn’t heard from you and he was slowly but surely getting better.
The season opener was in Madison Square Garden, facing off against the rangers. He wasn’t worried, he just wanted the game to be done with. This team brought him nothing but horrible memories and feelings.
The game started strong, the islanders were on a positive beginning. They were leading by three going into the third. Mat was confident.
That was until he saw you on the jumbotron.
His breath caught in his throat when he saw your face, the smile he missed and loved so much. You were sat there wearing the thing that started all of this, that stupid jersey. The red, white and blue made Mat feel sick.
That threw him off. They lost. He just wanted to go home.
While heading back to the bus he heard someone shouting his name, turning to see Alexis calling for him.
He scowled “What do you want?”
Alexis rolled his eyes “Don’t forget she was my fiancé first… anyway, here” he thrusts a post it note into Mat’s hand
“What’s this?”
“That’s her new address” he explains and notices Mat’s confused expression “She still loves you Mat and all I ever wanted was for her to be happy if it was with me or you”
Mat took the post it with a shaky hand a soft smile “Thanks man…”
He gripped it tightly on the way back to UBS. Staring at it, as if trying to memorise it.
When he got back to his car it was the first thing he did, punch that address into his GPS.
When he arrived he sat in his car staring at the window of the apartment he had figured out was yours. It took him an hour before he finally had the nerve to go into the building and knock on your door.
He heard you call out “coming!” Before opening the door. You looked shocked to see him, suddenly aware of what you were wearing.
The blue burned Mat’s eyes. He wishes he could rip It off but he knew better.
“Mat-“
“I love you. I love you in this jersey, in my jersey - I mostly prefer you without anything to be honest!” He rambled, his hands flapping around
“You gave her my jacket” you mumble, curling back into yourself.
He shakes his head, scrunching his eyes closed “I- I didn’t give her it! Please just- she took it! She was cold and I turned my back for like a second. I had the jacket because I was coming to find you, to make up for what was happening between us”
You bit your lip “How do I know that?”
He shrugs “I can’t make you trust me but you know how much I love you, that’s never been in question. We fought, we were each jealous because we love each other so much so please don’t stay away from me any longer I can’t take it”
Your bottom lip quivered “How do you know we’re not bad for each other Mat?”
“Even if we are… I’m willing to take the risk”
You let out a shaky breath “Come here”
He immediately steps into the apartment and kisses you, both of you stumbling back a few steps. You feel him lifting up your jersey to reveal nothing underneath
“Mat!”
“I lied, I don’t love you in this jersey please get it off”
314 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
destination-explore
Destination Explore
may1th
mayith
veryprivateart
VERY PRIVATE ART
rpnsl
SONNENGÖTTIN.
airvoyage8
The Blogging of Thisted 036