#the ref on the ground just holding his stomach and shouting NO! NO!!! was just p e r f e c t
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everybody: *clearly upset with Kane tombstoning L*nda McM*hon*
me: ...thats my man,, i love hims <3
#Chase watches old wrestlin#the ref on the ground just holding his stomach and shouting NO! NO!!! was just p e r f e c t#like genuinely that was sooo fucking g o od- the panic at the end- just the end of that episode was n i c e#everybody clearly upset and my gay ass over here like: *twirls nonexistent hair* sooo u single...?
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Crush At First Sight
Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader
Words: 2K
Summary: Attending the boy's volleyball finals was a no brainer-you'd take any opportunity to ditch school. You didn't think you'd find yourself getting so attached to one of the players...
Notes: I don't believe that someone could watch Noya play and not instantly fall in love, so I did him right
Masterlist
The only time you’d heard about the boy’s volleyball team was when someone called them ‘flightless crows’ in the hallway, which you assumed was a bad thing. However, when your friends mentioned they were skipping class to apparently watch them play in the Spring finals you were all for attending.
You’d take any opportunity to ditch school-even if it was to watch some guys lose a volleyball game.
The stadium was more filled than you were expecting. As you slid through the crowd to find three open seats you realized perhaps this was a bigger deal than you’d anticipated. Once seated, Michimiya passed everyone noise makers she’d picked up from some guys near the stadium’s entrance. You tested the bright orange cone-shaped objects by lightly tapping them together.
“So, they must have really improved this year, huh?” You said as your eyes wandered around the packed stands, apparently you weren’t the only ones skipping school today.
“They got a new coach,” Michimiya said, bouncing lightly from nerves and anticipation, “and a lot of talented first years.”
“Not hard on the eyes either,” Aihara nudged your shoulder and gestured towards the team congregated on the sidelines around their coaches. You nodded slowly as you scanned the group, lingering on the unfortunate boy who got stuck with the orange jersey.
At least he could pull it off.
The teams took the court, their anticipation radiating into the audience and extending even to you as you clutched your noise makers tightly. After the whistle was blown, and the first serve made, the game of Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa officially began.
A few minutes into the match you found your gaze latching onto the guy in the orange jersey. Shiratorizawa was terrifying, especially the big guy with his powerful spikes. You winced the first time you saw it because you couldn’t imagine receiving something like that without breaking your arms, but the libero guy was doing it like it was nothing. He had adapted to the playstyle and for every ball that made your stomach drop he would appear from seemingly nowhere and make a save.
There was something about the way he could go from intensely focused on the court to relaxed on the sidelines within moments that had you mesmerized, as well. You couldn’t help the weird fullness in your chest as he guzzled down water and smiled goofily to some of his teammates after their first set as if the pressure wasn’t weighing on him.
“What are you so focused on?” Michimiya asked while bopping you on the head with her cone.
“Nothing,” you said as the boys began to take the court again, preparing for the next serve. “Hey, what was number four’s name?”
Aihara’s brow quirked. “Nishinoya, why?”
“I’m just wondering...” You said, subconsciously smiling when he slid and barely saved the ball with one hand. “He’s just pretty good is all.”
“Daichi said he’s their ‘Guardian Deity’,” Michimiya wiggled her eyebrows at you.
“Boys are so dramatic.” Aihara scoffed.
You couldn’t argue that one.
As the sets continued you found yourself growing increasingly attached to Nishinoya: heart dropping if he missed a ball, swelling with pride anytime he made a play, and you’d even find your cheeks warming whenever you caught sight of him smiling to himself or a teammate. It was becoming embarrassing, truthfully, considering you’d never even talked to him.
“Alright, at least pretend you’re not obsessively staring at him.” Aihara nudged you playfully as the fourth set wrapped up and the boys were switching sides on the court.
“I’m not.”
Michimiya giggled, bopping you on the nose. “You geek out every time he touches the ball. It’s not hard to notice.”
“You’re one to talk. As if you haven’t been fangirling over Daichi.” Aihara leaned back, sighing dramatically. “I’m trapped between a pair of lovesick fools.”
“I don’t even know the guy,” you felt your cheeks warming. “Even if I did he probably wouldn’t be interested in--”
“Have you ever met Nishinoya before?” Aihara interrupted you. “Like, at school or in any context? Heard about him or talked to him… anything?”
You shook your head and they both started laughing lightly before Michimiya put a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”
You tilted your head in confusion, but before you could form a retort the ref’s whistle signaled the start of the final set. Your grip on the noise makers were tight as both sides fought strongly, neither willing to lose a single point and give up their chance for nationals. It felt surreal when Karasuno pulled that final point. Everyone erupted into cheers as the three of you held onto each other, jumping and shouting, unable to contain your excitement while celebrating the boy’s well earned victory. Boys who were currently dogpiled in the center of the court while the third years had tears streaming down their faces in disbelief.
It was an honor to be a part of and you couldn’t have been prouder to have them representing your school. When they lined up in front of you and bowed to thank you all for your attendance you clutched your hands against your chests. They really earned the win.
You were pulled out of your randomly emotional train of thought by Aihara’s grip tugging you behind her as they shuffled out of the stands.
“Where are we going?” You asked when they left the gym opposite the stadium’s exit.
“We’re going to congratulate the guys!” Michimiya sent a smile over her shoulder and your heart accelerated to an unhealthy pace.
“I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared for that scenario,” you pointed toward the opposite end of the hall. “Maybe I should just meet you guys outside and-”
“Oh no you don’t,” Aihara began pushing you forward by your shoulders and you started to whine in protest. “You are strong and fearless and no boy shall knock you down.”
Michimiya giggled ahead of you where she remained completely useless in your time of need. You let Aihara guide you through groups of people finding their way toward the exit until you all spotted the boy’s team in their telling Karasuno volleyball club jackets.
You did a quick scan of everyone, but didn’t see the spiked hair you’d been observing for so long. You weren’t sure if it was relief or disappointment you felt.
“There he is,” Aihara gave you a squeeze, pointing near the far wall where Nishinoya was digging through his duffel bag on the ground, eyebrows furrowed and tongue stuck out adorably in concentration. Your heart started pounding at the sight of him so close. The bizarre realization that he was in fact a real person finally hit which made your palms sweaty.
“As it turns out. I have decided to denounce myself from boys and am going to live a life of celibacy.” You nodded confidently, trying to make a u-turn, but Aihara annoyingly spun you around.
“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Just talk to him. I promise it will work out.” She patted your shoulder. “Trust me.”
You glared at her, mumbling insults under your breath as you slowly walked over to where Nishinoya continued to dig through his mess of a bag. You took a deep breath and decided your best move was to just deep dive straight into your doom. What could possibly go wrong?
“Uh, Nishinoya, right?”
He glanced at you briefly, looking you up and down before continuing to dig through his bag.“Yep, do need you help finding someone?” He triumphantly pulled out some IcyHot before pointing toward where the rest of his team lounged. “Most of the guys are over there.”
“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” You winced as you noticed the bruises that decorated his arms when he started to peel off his jacket.
“Why? Is something wrong? Do you have a message for me or something?”
“No… I just wanted to tell you how amazing I thought you were today.” You quickly glanced away in embarrassment when he finally looked up at you with wide-eyes. You dug your toe into the ground as you urged yourself to continue, “I was watching you and just thought you were really cool and--”
“Sorry,” he chuckled and put a hand up to stop you. “I was actually wearing the orange jersey. Number four.” He pointed to the others in the center of the hall again. “The guy you're looking for is probably over there.”
You blinked. “Nishinoya. Orange jersey. Number four. Libero. Guardian Deity or whatever.” Your embarrassment was dissolving into frustration. “Is that you?”
“Yeah?”
“Then I’m looking for you.”
He stared at his bag as his brain tried to process the situation you’d presented to him. Suddenly, his gaze whipped up at you. “Holy shit,” he pointed his finger at himself. “You’re talking to me.”
“Have been.”
He tensed and locked his eyes on the IcyHot he was currently trying to rub on his back. He quickly threw it near his bag and you felt another fond smile growing on your face. “I’m Nishinoya,” he said, extending his hand toward you before shoving it down to his side. “Wait, you know that. Shit, were you complimenting me? Did you just call me cool?”
“I did do that, yeah.”
His face turned a bright shade of red, “but you can’t do that it goes against all the rules.”
“What are you-”
“Look,” He pointed his finger between the two of you causing you to raise a brow. “I’m supposed to flirt with and compliment you, then you say something mean that hurts my feelings.” He smacked his shoes for finality. “It’s a strict formula.”
“What’s the formula for when I flirt with you then?” You asked, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. His shoulders went up to his ears and he stared at his hands longer than you felt necessary for such a simple question.
He looked up at you defeated. “I don’t know I’m bad at math.”
You covered your mouth to hold back the laugh trying to force its way out. He was just so cute though. “Well, so am I, but mutual flirting seems like a good solution. If you were an interested party that is.”
“I’m a very interested party…” He murmured under his breath while narrowing his eyes at you. “Did Tanaka put you up to this?”
“I don’t know who that is.”
He furrowed his brow in thought before pulling a flip phone out from his duffel and holding it out to you, “can I have your number?”
Your cheeks dusted pink as you created your contact under Nishinoya’s intense gaze. He hurriedly checked it’s existence when you returned the phone to him, staring at it skeptically while he cradled the phone in his hands.
“I promise it’s mine.” You reassured him and he embarrassingly snapped the phone closed.
“Okay,” he mumbled.
“(Y/N)!” Aihara yelled from where the rest of Karasuno’s team was grouped and not so subtly staring at you both. Your face slowly blossomed red and in your peripheral you saw Nishinoya flip off the ones waving at him. “We’re heading out. Are you done or do you need more time with your-”
“I’ll be right there.” You interrupted, glancing back to Nishinoya. “I’ll, uh, talk to you soon?”
He shot you a double thumbs up and you couldn’t stop from snorting at how adorable that was, especially when he started at them in shame. You waved a good-bye and narrowly dodged the small group already sprinting to Nishinoya while you weren’t even a few steps away.
Aihara wrapped an arm around your shoulder as your eyes lingered on boys rubbing Nishinoya’s head, bouncing around excitedly, or giving him suggestive looks. You felt your stomach rolling from embarrassment at all the attention he was receiving from such a small interaction.
“Ignore them. They’re just stupid boys.”
“I guess…”
“But one of them’s your stupid boy.” Michimiya said, poking you in the stomach. You swatted her hands away, and chewed your lip to keep down a smile when your phone vibrated. The ‘hello :)’ from an unknown number made your heart flutter.
Yeah, one of them was your stupid boy.
#nishinoya x reader#nishinoya x y/n#nishinoya yu x reader#nishinoya yuu#nishinoya yuu x reader#nishinoya yū#nishinoya yu headcanons#nishinoya yu scenarios#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyu#nishinoya imagine
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The Concussed Midfielder (Kelley O'Hara x Reader)
Anonymous Request: can u do a ko imagine with the reader getting a concussion and still playing? thank u!!!
Of course, it had to happen after the last substitute was used, at the 89th minute in with time to be added.
A corner kick courtesy of Tobin’s foot was flying into goal when you leaped in the air.
All you felt was the crack against your temple, before you hit the ground with a thud like a sack of potatoes.
Carli Llyod had sunk the header into the net, but instead of the usual celebration, your teammates had surrounded you.
“Y/N? Can you hear me?” You hear Christen say and you grimace, face scrunched up in pain.
Meanwhile, on the sidelines Kelley is pacing back and forth like a caged lion, Alex doing her best to hold the woman back.
“You can’t go out there Kel.” She whispers in her ear and the defender shakes her head.
“I don’t give a shit, that’s my girlfriend!” She snarls angrily watching as the medical team makes it to you.
Out of the corner of her eye she spots Vlatko having an intense conversation with the ref, who continues to shake her head until she turns away.
“What’s going on?” Alex asks as she and Kelley move towards the man, who shakes his head.
“They won’t let her come off...” He sighs. “Since we’ve used the last of our subs.”
Kelley’s eyes narrow, her lip curling in a snarl when she sees the ref talking to the medical staff.
Your hand rests on your temple, a lump and bruise forming where the woman’s elbow had connected with the side of your head.
“You really expect her to stay on!?” Megan shouts angrily at the ref, grimacing when you slap your hands over your ears.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Julie whispers as she runs a hand down your back.
“This is totally against the rules!” Emily growls angrily.
“We’re sorry Ms. Y/L/N, but we’re unable to take you off.” The medical member frowns and your brows furrow in confusion.
“Wait, you want me to stay on?” You ask in disbelief and the members of the medical team all share a glance, frowning.
“If it were up to us, you’d come off...” The male member of the team turns to the ref, his eyes narrowed. “But it isn’t up to us.”
The ref blows her whistle and you groan, slapping your hands back over your ears as she ushers the medical team off.
On the sidelines Kelley snarls, wiggling in Ashlyn’s hold, the goalie having to get involved when she realized you for SURE weren’t coming off the pitch.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” Kelley screams at the ref, who only sends her a glare before she makes her way towards where you and your teammates are, Alyssa gingerly helping you to your feet.
You stumble slightly, head spinning.
“Let’s go ladies-
“Can you give her a second?!” Christen bites angrily, green orbs narrowed, the usual calm woman’s angry demeanor scaring the ref who takes an abrupt step back.
“Yeah you’re making her stay on when she doesn’t need to.” Crystal snarls.
“Don’t push yourself okay? We’ll keep the ball away from your feet, we’ve only got a few minutes left.” Christen glances around the group, your teammates nodding.
“I mean I can still play...” You pout, but one look from the women surrounding you and you know you’re in no way getting the ball for the rest of the game.
Deep down you realize rather quickly it’s a good thing when it because painfully apparent that running is far from in the cards for you, your vision blurring and head spinning.
You were thankful when the Brazilian player who’d been on you the entire game had slowed to move with you, an arm around your middle as you walked on the field, your hand on the side of your head.
It remains that way until the whistle blows, Kelley sprinting onto the field and wrapping her arms around you, the two of you collapsing to the ground.
“I WON’T STOP UNTIL I GET YOUR JOB AND THAT’S A PROMISE.” Kelley screams at the ref, eyes full of fury.
“Kel.” You wince, the defender frowning as she wraps her arms tightly around you, the medical team almost immediately by your side.
“Let’s get you taken care of Y/N.” One of them says and you nod.
“I don’t feel so good.” You mumble, your stomach churning and Kelley frowns, glaring at the ref who you realize is being swarmed by the media.
“Let’s get you in the back.”
The medical team, along with Kelley, Christen, Tobin and the others help you towards the back, stopping when you wretch, vomiting in the grass, nearly falling over when you bend down.
Kelley tightens her hold on you, a lump forming in her throat at the sight of you in so much pain.
“We’ve got you Y/N, we’ve got you.”
***
It’s obvious to them that you, without a doubt, have a concussion, which you knew would most likely result in a career change for the referee who made you stay on field considering the media was on her the second the final whistle blew.
“Well, you’re the center of attention today.” Alex frowns as she scans Twitter, fans outraged that you were forced to stay on the field after taking a blow to the head.
“The fans are about to square up.” Emily snorts, skimming the multiple expletives the fans are using to refer to the referee as.
“I think I’ve seen her called a bitch over a dozen times and that was in one post.” Ashlyn snorts and you smirk, grunting when Kelley holds the bag of ice to your temple.
“I’m fine Kel.” You pout, the defender shaking her head as she holds you from behind.
“Tell that to the bruised knot on your head.” She grumbles, burying her face in the back of your neck, nuzzling into the indented flesh of the nape of your neck.
You lean heavily back into her, letting out a deep and lengthy sigh.
“I’m sorry I scared you.” You whisper tiredly and Kelley shakes her head.
“You didn’t do anything, the ref did...” She growls the last bit and you smile.
Christen clears her throat, grinning.
“Referee fired amid fan outrage after USWNT player Y/N Y/L/N is forced to stay on field after suffering a head injury.”
Megan throws a fist in the air while the others clap softly, in respect of the fact that you’re literally concussed.
“Good, she was a bitch.” Tierna mumbles under her breath and everyone turns to her, their eyes wide.
You snicker, a grin stretching across your face.
“T, only we can use that language.” Alyssa shakes her head and Rose scoffs.
“Ashlyn literally swears enough for the entire team.”
The team starts to bicker until Kelley lets out an angry growl, everyone turning to her with wide eyes.
“Oh yeah...”
“Sorry Y/N.”
You smile.
“It’s okay, Kelley’s just acting like the Bull Terrier she is.” You snicker and the defender rolls her eyes, mumbling into the back of your neck.
Kelley moves to rest her chin on your shoulder and you turn around, smiling when your eyes lock.
“I love Bull Terriers.” You giggle and Kelley beams, cheeks pink as she leans in to press a kiss to your lips.
“And I love you.”
Emily snorts.
“So, you’re not disagreeing with the fact that you’re a Bull Terrier?” Emily asks and you snicker.
Tobin snorts.
“I see Kelley as more of an, angry ankle biter myself.”
Kelley snarls.
“Fuck off.”
Tierna rolls her eyes.
“And you say we need to watch our language.”
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“the president and the troublemaker” (part 9) (chilumi fic)
“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”
[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8]
my brain b decayin luv
[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link] // [Main AO3]
the president and the troublemaker (part 9)
Was this a hallucination?
Had Lumine been out in the sun for too long?
Surely, there was no way she was about to fight Childe of all people.
And yet, there he stood, with that stupid grin of his, stretching his arms across the ring from her.
“What are you doing here?” Lumine said through gritted teeth.
“And let you have all the fun, all alone? No way,” he teased. He stretched his arms upwards, his gray tank top riding up as well, exposing well-sculpted abs (which of course made a gaggle of girls screech nearby). He caught sight of Lumine’s gaze, and laughed. “Aren’t you a little hot in that t-shirt, Lumi?”
Bastard.
Lumine would’ve obliterated the ground underneath that smirking ginger if she could.
“Hey, ref,” she said to the man sitting on the lifeguard chair behind her. “Any illegal moves we can’t do?”
The man pondered for a second. “Not really—we’re pretty casual here.” He laughed. “Just make sure you guys don’t hurt each other too much.”
“No promises,” Lumine muttered, marching to the center of the ring.
Childe copied her movements, and eventually stood before her. “Looks like we’re the last two left,” he said. “I wonder who will become champion of this little competition?”
Lumine didn’t respond, instead choosing to glare up at him.
He tilted his head curiously. “Lumine…,” he asked lowly. “Did I really hurt you earlier?”
No, you didn’t hurt me. She didn’t know what he was doing to her.
Her life was going perfectly fine, the exact way she had planned, until Childe found out her secret. Not only did he find out her secret, he had inserted himself into her life, and left her a swirling mess of confusing feelings—feelings she had never experienced before nor any idea of how to deal with them. He said he loved her.
“Ready!” the referee shouted.
Lumine raised her fists up.
Childe mimicked her with raised brows. “That doesn’t really look like a wrestling stance to me.”
The referee blew the whistle—the match had begun.
Lumine immediately swung forward with a punch, to which Childe blocked easily with his forearm.
His eye twitched. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Lumine swung again, with her other arm, and Childe quickly moved back, out of the way. The crowd around them broke into hushed murmurs as the realization set in that this was not a normal match.
Childe shook out his hands, then raised them back up, cocking his head from side to side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” With a grin, he lunged towards her with a fast and powerful swing.
Lumine felt the air blow past her face as she jumped back, her palm catching his other fist as it came in quick succession milliseconds after. She shoved his hand away, with her leg darting out in an attempt to sweep him off his feet.
He jumped, and using the brief window of distraction, she swung at his face again. At the last second, his hands caught her forearm, and she was now stuck in his vice grip.
“Come on, Lumine,” he breathed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
She tried pulling her arm away, to no avail. “You,” she hissed.
His grip loosened, just a bit, and Lumine yanked her arm out.
“Me?” he asked. “What about me exactly?”
“Everything.” She threw a jab at his face. “Everything you do.” Another jab. “You tease me. You confuse me.” A sweep with her foot. “I don’t know what’s happening to me—because of you.”
Childe dodged every single one of her moves, though his brows were now furrowed in concentration, and a slick sheen of sweat glistened on his face; they were tiring each other out. At this rate, neither one of them would win. Lumine’s frustration grew, bubbling and festering deep in her gut.
“If you want me to stop,” Childe said, “I will.” He threw a punch at her. “Say the word, and I’ll go away.” Each word he said was punctuated with a swing at her, backing her up further and further.
Do I want him to disappear?
If he did, her life could go back to normal—she could go back to normal.
And yet, part of her knew it wouldn’t feel right.
He had really taken her out of her comfort zone, broadened her horizons. Made her a better fighter. A better person.
Childe wasn’t the problem. The problem was her: it was her frustration and her inability to figure out how she felt about him.
“Do you really hate me, Lumine?” Childe asked.
No.
I like you, you idiot.
She stepped back, ready to answer through her fists. What she didn’t realize, however, how far back she was, and she crashed directly into the referee’s chair.
There were sharp gasps from the audience as she fell onto her back, the wind knocked from her lungs, too stunned to roll out of the way as the tall metal chair came tumbling down on her. She could only shut her eyes, and brace for impact.
The unmistakable hollow sound of metal against skin resounded in her ears. But she didn’t feel anything. She opened her eyes.
Poised above her was Childe, his hands on either side of her head, while his body shielded hers; his face was twisted in pain.
“Childe?” Lumine whispered.
He opened his eyes, and upon seeing her gazing right back at him, he forced a meek smile.
“Hey, girlie,” he said, strained. “You okay?”
“Y-yeah.” She put a hand on his chest, gentle, trying to help stabilize his shaking arms. “What about you?”
A heavy huff of a breath. “I’m fine.”
The chair was lifted off of him as spectators gathered around the two, a swirl of questions and calls for medical attention.
As he sat up, Lumine sat up as well, her hand subconsciously clutching the front of his shirt, holding him close as her concern grew.
Childe kept persisting he was fine to everyone around, but when someone behind noted a large bruise was blossoming across his back—so large it was visible through his top—Lumine turned him around and examined it herself.
Her fingers traced the injury, and when Childe winced, she told him they were going to the nearest clinic—no arguments. After a hasty call to Kaeya and Aether explaining the situation, the two were sitting in one of the clinic’s rooms, waiting for the doctor.
“I told you, I’m fine,” Childe repeated from his seat on the exam table. “It’s just a bruise. It’ll go away.”
“You really don’t like getting your injuries treated,” Lumine huffed from her chair nearby. “You didn’t even want to go to a hospital after diving off a building.”
He shrugged with a smile. “What can I say? I like to test the limits of my strength.”
Lumine rolled her eyes. “You’re not invincible, you know.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“Jesus, who let your ego grow this much?”
“I haven’t died yet, so there’s nothing to prove I’m not invincible.”
Lumine stood, and poked at his back. She saw his muscles jolt and scoffed. “You sure about that?”
Childe leaned back on his hands. “Injuries and scars mean nothing if I’m still breathing.”
Lumine looked at him curiously. “What kind of mentality is that?”
He looked back at her, his blue eyes dark in thought. Then, he grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled it over his head.
Immediately, Lumine slammed her eyes shut, even throwing her arms over her face to block out her vision completely. “What are you doing?!” she managed to squeak out.
There was a soft chuckle from Childe, and before she knew it, he had gently grabbed her hand, guiding it towards it, until she felt her fingers flat against his chest. She let out another squeak as her hand felt his bare skin.
Though it definitely didn’t feel normal. It felt smooth, unnatural. Lumine opened one eye to peek.
There was a large pinkish-white scar etched on his sternum. A knife wound of sorts. Right by the heart. Life threatening.
“Some no good scumbags did this to me when I was young,” Childe explained. “Insignificant now, but maybe the reason I push myself so much. Nothing will ever come close to this life-or-death moment.”
Lumine’s entire system felt dry as she imagined a little boy with a smattering of orange hair and bright blue eyes with this wound, gaping of blood. What kind of monsters…? “Do...Do you know who did this to you?” Lumine didn’t realize how hoarse her voice sounded until she heard her nearly trembling voice spill out.
Another chuckle, a little darker this time. “What? Are you going to get revenge for me?”
Lumine’s eyes stung. “You’re not angry? Upset that some monsters out there nearly killed you? When you were only a kid?”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Childe let out a sheepish laugh. “Didn’t mean to make you upset, Lumine.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, straining to keep the tears at bay. “I just...I’m always so dependent on you. Whenever I need help, you’re just magically there to save the day.” Her head hung down, eyes fixed on the floor. “I can’t even repay you for all the times you’ve come to my rescue. And you’re always the one to get hurt. Even when I’m horrible, when I’m stubborn and angry and—”
Childe wrapped his arms around Lumine, pulling her in for a tight embrace. “I’m plenty dependent on you too, Lumi.” His words buzzed against her ear as his chin rested on her shoulder.
She hesitated a moment. But her arms eventually found their way around him as well. “Just...let me help you. Like how you help me.”
He pulled back, just a bit, his lips ghosting over her forehead as he murmured, “You already are.”
Lumine looked up at him, how impossibly close he was. Her eyes trickled down to his lips.
His eyes followed hers, and she felt his muscles tense against her skin.
As the heat crept from the pit of her stomach to the apples of her cheeks, Lumine’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she leaned in—
CLICK.
“Alrighty, how are we doing today—?”
Lumine and Childe froze and turned to the open door. The doctor looked back at them with raised brows.
“Sorry, should I come back…?” the doctor asked, his voice lined with amusement.
Lumine’s arms snapped back to her own body as she frantically waved in front of her. “N-no, no, no; ah, uhm, sorry, doctor!” She quickly deflated back into the chair, facing the wall away from Childe as the doctor began his examination.
Her heart was constantly hammering away at her chest the entire time, barely noticing the exam was over until Childe tapped her arm, jolting her back to reality.
“Ready to go, Lumi?” he asked, a wide grin splitting his face.
“Already? What did the doctor say?”
“Oh? Were you a little...distracted?” If possible, his grin stretched wider.
Lumine stood, leaving the room abruptly. “You can die for all I care,” she muttered sarcastically.
He jogged to keep up with her. “He said I was okay: just a bad bruise that will go away after a while.”
The two exited the building, walking into the colorful sorbet glow of sunset.
“Back to the beach house?” Lumine asked.
Childe hummed in agreement. There was a brief pause before he leaned down, right into her shoulder, and said, “Unless you want to finish where we left off.”
Lumine put her palm on his forehead, shoving him away, his laugh breezing her arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answered, walking away. I am going to die from embarrassment.
God, she had never been so...so vulnerable in front of someone. To think, she was about to kiss—
“You never did answer me, by the way,” Childe said, walking by her side.
“What?”
“When we were fighting.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Whether you hate me or not.”
Lumine bit the side of her cheek. “What about you?” she blurted. “Do you really love me, or is it just another one of your stupid jokes?”
“Does it bother you?”
Childe had stopped walking, his expression all tight lines.
“Does it bother you?” Childe repeated. “If I’m in love with you?”
Was she going to continue running from him? Denying anything and everything about him? In the end, it would just hurt them both, wouldn’t it?
“No,” Lumine answered quietly.
A soft smile tugged at Childe’s lips, and he stepped in front of her, putting his hand on top of her head. “And do you hate me, Lumi?”
“N-no.”
“Again.”
Her face scrunched. “I...I don’t hate you, Childe.”
I like you. Why couldn’t she just say it?
“Don’t look so constipated, Pres.”
Lumine’s jaw dropped as her head snapped up at Childe’s face. “I am not—!”
Childe kissed her forehead, gently, his hand delicately placed on her cheek.
“Thank you, Lumine,” he said, his breath rustling her golden locks. “For everything today.”
She clutched his shirt, legs shaking—but she didn’t back away. “I should be the one saying thank you. For saving me.”
“Always.”
“I’ll save you too,” Lumine whispered. “I swear.”
“It’s a promise, then,” Childe whispered back.
* * *
[part 10]
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You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25
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2005
It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.
As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side.
There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown.
“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?”
I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.”
“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.
The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me.
“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned.
“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement.
Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right.
I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.
-
I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive.
I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse.
Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.
"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.
"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"
“Very pregnant.”
"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood.
“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"
“About as well as you can imagine.”
“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders.
"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.
“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”
He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.
“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”
Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"
"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.
“Have any names picked out?”
"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good.
"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them."
"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”
"Maybe that would be a little too much."
“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself
-
"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.
"Nicholas?” He asked again.
"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.
He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name."
“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.
He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"
I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away.
Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you."
-
My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.
"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me.
Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open.
"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."
The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too."
"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man.
"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.
"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?
"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"
I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"
“What?”
"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?"
"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.
It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible.
"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.
"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”
Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."
"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”
"I really don't think it's safe for you here."
"Here we go agai-"
"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.
"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..."
“Nicholas.”
"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.
"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?"
"You have my word."
I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go."
He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.
Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too.”
-
"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.
"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about."
A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me."
"Well, I've only known you my whole life."
He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him.
Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport.
"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah."
“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in.
"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too.
There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked.
Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me.
“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.
“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.”
Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?”
Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back.
“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I.
“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”
“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard.
“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off.
“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.”
A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.”
“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?”
He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true.
“I’m sorry that I hit you.”
“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.”
“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red.
“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed.
“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”
Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.”
“I didn’t think you liked it.”
I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”
“Riiiiight.”
By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me.
“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."
We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.
"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.
"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."
I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."
Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?"
My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."
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Day 19: Rules Change - Javier Pena
Day 19: Rules Change- Javier Pena
November Writing Challenge Masterlist
Day 18: Her Husband - Marcus Pike
“You do understand that by getting yourself into this situation...we are going to have to send you back stateside?”
You nod.
“Do you have anything you would like to say before we finish today? After this meeting you will need to go to your apartment and pack your bags, your flight leaves out of Columbia at 9 AM.” The ambassador glared at you from his high back leather chair.
“No...I have nothing to say to you. Only this, I don’t regret a damn thing.”
“You’re excused. Now get out of my office and go pack your bags.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand and promptly ignores you.
You slam the door behind you on the way out and walk over towards your desk. You can feel the eyes of your co-workers on you as you pack your small box of personal belongings from your desk. You reach toward your cactus plant on the corner of your desk and it falls to the ground, shattering.
“Fuck,” you bend down to begin picking it up when a pair of dark sun-kissed skin move into your line of sight, you look up at Javier Pena, your boss.
“Thank you,” you whisper. Picking up the remaining shards and placing them in the trash. You notice he has a small white paper cup in his hands and he carefully places the cactus in the cup.
His arm grips your elbow gently, pulling you to your feet. You feel braver with him near and you take a moment to look into his eyes. A storm of emotion is boiling in them and it takes your breath away, “this is fucked up,” he whispers harshly, “I should be the one sent home, not you. I’m your boss...I’m supposed to protect you.”
You chuckle darkly, “well maybe if we both used protection we wouldn’t be in this situation,” you rest your hand over your slightly protruding belly, “I have to go pack...will you come over tonight?”
He hands you the plant and you place it gently in the box. “Do you really have to ask?” he whispers. You go to lift the box before it is quickly removed from your hands.
“Daniel...I can lift a damn box,” Van Ness smiles at you before shrugging.
“I can also lift a box, isn’t that funny? Let’s go, mama, time to get you home.”
You cringe, avoiding the eye contact of the office gossips. Only a select few knew why you were leaving and those that didn’t could guess. It was the watercooler gossip of the week. Javier Pena had knocked up one of the Embassy secretaries. She was being fired and sent home in disgrace while Pena stayed in Columbia to take down the Cali cartel.
You didn’t blame Javier though. He wanted to leave with you and threatened to quit. But after the chance to take down Escobar was ripped away from him you knew he had to finish the work with Cali. It had caused many an argument between you but it was a fight he wasn’t going to win. Your one concession to Javi was that you were going to Texas to live with his father.
You had no family left of your own and when you both sat down and called his father he was ecstatic about becoming a grandpa. Your shook from your thoughts when Daniel nudges you toward the door and Javier’s hand slips from your elbow watching you leave.
At your apartment, you’re surprised to find Chris Fiestl there and packing your books into boxes with the label already written out. Tears spring to your eyes and you reach out for both of them as they engulf you in hugs, “Don’t cry y/n, you don’t wanna upset the baby.” Daniel reaches forward and gently rubs your stomach.
“I’m just really happy to have such good friends,” you tell them both pulling away to wipe at your eyes. Daniel and Chris came around the same time you did and you instantly clicked. The three of you would go out drinking and dancing.
When you started sleeping with Javi, the boys were there for you as you navigated the waters from casual hookup to a full-blown relationship.
“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you hug them both tightly. From behind you the door unlocks and Javier comes in. Seeing you all embracing he sighs before walking to the small kitchen for a drink.
The boys give you one final hug before they go, letting you and Javier be alone. You walk to the kitchen and see Javi nursing a whiskey and cooking some dinner. He wasn’t the greatest cook but since you found out you were pregnant and got sick at random smells he’s taken over cooking for you both. You hug him from behind and he leans back onto your shoulder, kissing your cheek. Putting down the spatula he turns and holds you tight.
“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be away from you...I love you so fucking much,” he nuzzles your neck placing soft open mouth kisses.
You pull away and scratch your nails through his scalp he groans at the feeling. “It’s not forever, just until you put those Cali bastards away. Then you can come home to your dads and we can raise our daughter and have a life together.”
“...Daughter?” his voice is hoarse as he looks at you with glassy eyes.
You can only nod, your own filled with unshed tears. “I found out a few days ago at that last appointment. We’re gonna have a baby girl Javi.”
He drops to his knees before your belly and lifts your shift. His hands rough and calloused trace patterns over the small bump. He kisses your stomach lightly “I love you mija, I will always be there for you,” he gazes up at you, “for your both.”
5 Years Later
“You have got to be kidding me! That’s a BULLSHIT CALL!”
“JAVIER!” you shoot up from your lawn chair and pull your husband back down, “SIT THE HELL DOWN! You are embarrassing us!”
Your father in law is cracking up beside you in his own chair, watching his granddaughter run unsteadily across the field.
“But baby, she was clear and he called her foul! That’s my little girl out there and you better believe I will kick any honky white ass referee who tries to stop her!” Javier shoots up from his chair again pacing.
You snort watching the man who helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel down get mad at a children’s soccer game. But that was Javier as a father.
After that night he promised he would always be there for her he meant it. Every doctor appointment, hair cut, toddler tumble class, story time at the library, and recently soccer game he was there. His office walls covered in her artwork and always wearing a bracelet she made him at preschool out of macaroni and string; like it came from Tiffany’s.
“Honey you need to calm down, she is doing great! Those are just the rules of the game, the ref didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Rules change baby, and that guy needs to change his damn rules so he doesn’t foul my daughter,” Javi huffs and you rise pulling him towards you for a kiss.
“She is so lucky to have you as a daddy Javi. We all are…” you rest his hand over your stomach and his eyes nearly fall out of his head.
“Baby?...”
You nod and he shouts before kissing you. The whistle blows and your daughter who is the spitting image of her father comes running up. Javi picks her up, blowing raspberries against her cheek as she giggles, pulling you both into a tight hug. Despite the rocky start, you wouldn’t change your family for the world.
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Show Stopper | Adam Cole *NSFW*
❛❛ Ok well I'm a slut for smut so 😂😂 idk whether to do a tag team/title win with Adam or morning sex with him. What do you think? ❤❜❜- @lookalivesunshine-x
Pairings: Adam Cole x Fem!Reader
Featuring: Adam Cole, Y/n (Reader), Bobby Fish, Kyle O’Reilly, Roderick Strong, Ridge Holland, Pete Dunne, Mercedes Martinez
Summary: Adam and y/n are the first-ever mixed tag team champs in WWE. Adam rewards her for the pin.
WARNINGS: fighting, wrestling, smut, sex, celebration sex, errors I missed, questionable smut writing, oral (female receiving)
Word Count: 1773
A/N: Got an Adam Cole or WWE request? Send it in!
“Come on, y/n, you can do it,” Adam spoke. Trying to encourage you.
But Mercedes had you in a hold that you couldn’t get out of. No matter how hard you tried to reach your hand out to Adam, you never succeeded.
Adam tried to motivate you, stomping his foot. Motioning his arm up and down. the rest of the era boys motivation you.
Adam quickly slipped into the ring. Going over to Mercedes and you. shoving her off of you. Adam quickly rushed to your side. Checking to see if you were okay.
Mercedes glared at Adam. Ridge quickly got in the ring, going over to Adam, while Mercedes shoved Adam.
“Who do you think you are? Coming into the ring, and shoving me,” She yelled. Adam got up. Glaring at her.
“I’m Adam Cole, baybay,” He shouted. Giving her a cocky smile. While she glared at him. Adam didn’t realize that Ridge was coming over until it was too late. Ridge’s fist connected with Adam’s jaw, shocking Adam. Adam grabbed his jaw. Before he could crane his neck to look at Ridge. Ridge pushed him into the ropes. Sending Adam through the ropes, and onto the ground.
Kyle, Bobby, and Roddy quickly rushed to Adam’s side. Ridge got out of the ring. Striding over to Adam. The ref gave Kyle, Bobby, and Roddy a warning, as they held their hands up in front of them. Parting away from Adam. Ridge towered above Adam. Crouching slightly as he grabbed a fistful of Adam’s hair. Yanking him up by his hair. Adam uppercut Ridge. Making Ridge stumble back.
Mercedes was too invested in what was happing between Ridge and Adam not noticing that you were on your feet and behind her. You spun her around to face you. before she could react, you poked her in the eyes with your thumbs. Catching her off guard. She put her hands over her eyes. While Vic let out an Oh, and Barret just chuckled, praising you.
The ref turned around when you super kicked her. Making her fall on the mat. You quickly covered her. Grabbing behind her knee and lifting it. Putting all your weight on her, as well, as your elbow in her face.
The ref counted to three. Signalling the timekeeper to ring the bell.
“And the winner, and new mixed tag team champions, Adam Cole and Y/n, The Undisputed Era,” Alicia Taylor announced, as the Undisputed Era theme entrance came on.
Adam and the boys rushed into the ring. Going over to you. Adam wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. Kissing the top of your head. The rest of the boys congratulating Adam and you.
“I love you, so much, I am very proud of you,” Adam beamed. Kissing your forehead.
“We did it,” You beamed. Craning your neck to look at him. Adam smiled proudly at you.
Roddy grabbed the mixed tag team championship belts off of the referee, giving the ref a cold stare. Roddy handed them to Adam, as the two of you got up.
Adam quickly put one of the mixed tag team championships around your waist, then put his mixed tag team championship around his waist. Grabbing your wrist and raising it in the air. Smiling proudly at you.
Kyle grabbed your other wrist, raising it. While Roddy went on Adam’s side holding his arm up.
“We told you,” Roddy yelled. As Bobby stood beside Roddy.
“That’s right,” Bobby responded.
Adam let go of your wrist, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you closer to his side. Kissing the top of your head repeatedly.
Kyle hugged your side, while Roddy and Bobby joined in. turning it into a group hug.
After a while of hugging, Adam, Bobby, Kyle, Roddy and you exited the ring and walked up the ramp.
Going through the curtains. Triple H, Shawn Michaels, and other crew members congratulate, Adam and you on the win.
It was all a blur, posing for photoshoots with the mixed tag team championships, and interviews, you were exhausted.
You fell onto the couch in the locker room you shared with the boys. Letting out a groan. Taking your wrestling boots off, as well as your socks.
Adam, huddled closer to Kyle, Bobby, and Roddy, whispering something to them in a low voice. You narrowed your eyes at them wondering what they were whispering about.
Kyle, Roddy, and Bobby looked over at you, smirks on their lips.
“We’ll see the both of you at the bar,” Kyle spoke. Smiling at you, as he walked out of the room. Roddy and Bobby winked in your direction, making you arch your eyebrow. Tilting your head, as you looked at Adam.
Adam locked the door. Turning around to face you.
“I’m so proud of you,” Adam spoke. Walking over to you. taking the tape off of his wrists.
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you,” You responded.
Adam stood in front of you. smirking down at you. Your breath hitched, as he climbed on top of you. his hands cupping your jawline, as his lips pressed against yours passionately. Eyes fluttering closed.
“Let me reward you,” Adam spoke, as he pulled away from the kiss with every word. Making your breath hitch again.
Adam’s hands trailed down your body to your hips. Pressing his covered bulge against your pelvis. Making you let out a tiny moan, into the kiss. Getting wetter. An ache forming in your heat. Your fingers raking through his disheveled hair. Kissing each other feverishly.
Adam slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of your booty shorts. Slowly pulling it down.
You gasped as you felt Adam’s index finger and middle finger slip inside of you. Head tilting back. You broke the kiss. Adam smirked. slipping his finger in and out of you, at a slow rate.
Leaving feverish kisses along your jawline, as he fingered you at a painstaking rate.
“Faster…Please…” You begged. Making Adam smirk against your jawline. Trailing kisses to your neck.
Sucking harshly leaving love bites on your neck. Your fingers gripping his hair tightly.
Adam fastened his pace, thrusting his index and middle finger in and out of your core. Your hands slipped away from his hair, going down to grip his shoulders. Mouth a gap. Eyes closed. As a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.
Adam trailed his lips down to your collarbone, leaving a litter of love bites on your collarbone. His free hand going down between where he and you were connected. Placing the pad of his thumb on your clit, rubbing your clit. Making you let out a loud moan. Toes curling. Adam smirked against your collarbone.
Slowing his pace. Making you whine. Adam trailed searing kisses up your neck, towards your earlobe.
“Your pussy feels so good. Your walls tightening around my fingers,” He purred into your ear.
Adam fastened his pace again. Bringing you closer to your orgasm.
Adam moaned into your ear. This caused you to orgasm. Body trembling as you came on his fingers. Walls tightening around his fingers. Eyes rolling to the back of your head. Toes curling. Adams hot breath fanning in your ear.
“Adam,” You moaned loudly.
Adam thrusted his fingers into you one last time before pulling his fingers out.
Adam pulled away, sitting in between your legs.
You watched him through glazed eyes, as he brought his two fingers that were coated in your cum up to his lips. Parting his lips, he put his index and middle finger in his mouth. sucking your cum off of his fingers, all the while looking at you with lust-filled eyes. Your breath hitched, as you clenched your thighs together, as a dull ache formed in between your legs. Adam smirked.
Taking his fingers out of his mouth. Adam stood up. Taking his trunks off. His cock sprung up. Your eyes wandering down to look at his cock. Clenching your thighs together tightly. Adam smirked, as he crawled on top of you. making your breath hitch. His eyes looking intently into your eyes.
His hands cupped your jawline. Lowering his head down to yours. Lips touching yours. Kissing you passionately.
One of Adam’s hands let go of your jaw gong down to grab his shaft. He aligned his tip with your entrance.
Adam entered you without so much as a warning. Penetrating into you. Making you let out a loud gasp then a loud moan.
Adam let out a loud moan, as your walls tightened around his cock.
Adam’s hands went to the bottom of your sports bra. Pulling it up, and over your head, discarding it to the side.
His hands grabbing your boobs. Groping them, as he thrusted in and out of you at a fast pace. Your hands gripped his back. Fingernails digging into his skin. Wrapping your legs around his waist. The back of your heels digging into his ass.
Both of you moaning loudly.
Adam pulled away from the kiss. Trailing kisses to your neck.
Adam buried his head into the crook of your neck. Sucking on the skin, as he fastened his thrusts.
Tilting your head back. Eyes squeezing shut, as waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Toes curling. Walls clenching around Adam’s cock. Making Adam grunt. Grabbing your boobs roughly.
Both of you getting closer to releasing.
“Come, babe,” Adam commanded into the crook of your neck,
Adam let go of one of your boobs, going down to were him and you were connected. Putting his thumb on your clit. Running your clit in circular motions.
This caused your orgasm to arise. intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Feeling the familiar sensation form in the pit of your stomach. Fingernails digging into his back.
Adam felt his climax coming with every thrust your walls tightened around his cock, he felt himself slowly coming closer to releasing.
“Adam,” You moaned. Eyes rolling to the back of your head, as you orgasmed. Adam climaxed the same time you released, your walls tightening around him was just too much. His cock convulsing as he spilled his warm seed inside of you.
Adam collapsed on top of you. still inside of you. His cock softening inside of you.
Adam pressed his sweaty body against your sweaty body. Breathing heavily. Trailing feather-light kisses along your neck then jawline.
“We should take a shower, and get dressed, then meet up with the boys,” You spoke through labored breath.
Adam smiled against your jawline.
“Or we could stay here and have round two?” Adam suggested. Making you smirk…
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Bludgers Blow (1)
Word Count - 1067
“Are you ready?” Ginny asked me putting her hand on my shoulder. “You have nothing to be nervous about, we’re going against Slytherin, it’s a fair cheating game,” She chuckled making me chuckle.
“Yeah fair cheating game,” I repeated grabbing onto my broom. “Harry, Ron, are you ready?” I asked looking over at Harry and Ron who were chatting with each other.
“Never better!” Ron said looking like he was about to jump out of his skin. “We’re totally gonna win, we always do,” He shouted making the whole tent starter routing and shouting, I looked at Ginny who shook her head. “Liquid luck?” I whispred to her, she nodded her head making me roll my eyes.
“Come on, lets go!” Harry shouted getting on his broom and flying out, followed by Ron and everyone else.
“Good luck,” Ginny whipsred grabbing on her broom and flying out followed by me behind her, Slytherins were already out there being screamed at by the crowd. “Look at Dean,” Ginny chuckled pointing at Dean who was flying around getting the crowd willed up.
“Your boyfriends got one hell of a crowd,” I yelled flying out and into position, Ginny gave me a bit of a wave and I went up into the air, waiting for the Quaffle to get up.
“I want a fair and safe game!” Our ref called out tossing the Quaffle into the air, I took it into my hands flying off, Draco came quickly after me, dogging him at every chance and shooting the ball into the hoop.
“Fair and Clean game,” Draco mumbled to me flying off and waiting for the ball to come back. Harry was already gone chasing the snitch, I watched Ginny and Dean team up together and score points and watch points shoot on the other side, the score was tied up and the quaffle was in my hand.
“Fair and Clean!” I shouted at Draco flying right passed him and back onto my side, he quickly came following after me. “She shoots!” I yelled tossing the ball in the air watching it ravel towards hoops.
“Shes gone!” Draco said smirking, I looked behind me, Draco smirked and I was pushing off my broom, the bludger landing right on my chest and my head, both double struck pushing me off, I closed my eyes and my body went cold.
~
“Oh fuck I’ve never seen anything like that,” George said waking me up. “<she got hit by both of us,” He said in disbelief.
“George shut up,” I mumbled tossing my hand on my head. “I could kill Draco,” I mumbled opening my eyes, Harry was asleep on the chair beside my bed and Fred and George were standing at the end of my bed. “What are you two doing here?” I asked touching my head again.
“Well we heard you were injured and we weren’t just gonna leave our bestest friend alone,” Fred said smirking. “Well clearly you weren’t alone though,” He said looking over at Harry who was asleep still.
“How long has he been here?” I croaked looking over at Harry, he had a blanket wrapped around him and his quidditch uniform was laying on the ground.
“Ron said he’s been here since you got in here, hasn’t left your side since,” George said sitting down. “So tell me, how do you feel,” George asked smiling up at me.
“My head is killing me and my stomach hurts, what happened?” I asked not remembering anything but falling to the ground.
“You got it in the head and chest, five broken ribs, a concussion and a broken arm from falling, what a champ,” Fred said smiling and sitting on the other side of the bed.
“Yeah I can feel the broken ribs,” I corked placing my other hand on my ribs. “How long are you guys staying? Since you know your expelled,” I chuckled smiling at the two boys who were laying down on my bed.
“Until you get better, only at night since we’re not really supposed to be here,” Fred said looking up at me. “How rocking was those fireworks though, sweet and you’ll have to come by our new shop, you’ll love it,” He said grabbing my hand.
“Goodmorning,” Harry croaking sitting up from his seat and looking around. “How long have you guys been here?” He asked Fred and George who stood up.
“We were just leaving, see you tomorrow night,” George said kissing my head and pulling Fred out, they disappeared infront of me leaving Harry and I.
“How are you feeling?” Harry said getting up and sitting down beside me. “You got hit pretty hard by those two bulger,” He said smiling down at me.
“I’m fine, George and Fred told me what happened, but you, you’ve been here the whole time?” I asked smiling back at him, he looked tired and his face white.
“I didn’t want you to wake up and no one was here for you, you’ve been asleep for almost two days, I thought you left me,” Harry croaked grabbing onto my hand. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” He slightly grabbed my hand being careful not to hurt me.
“I should be the least of your problems,” I chuckled holding onto Harry's hand back. “Don’t you have a war to be stopping?” I asked getting slightly concerned.
“For the past two days my mind as only been on you, nothing about Voldemort and fighting him, only you,” Harry said taking a breath. “Your gonna be okay, just some slight bruising when you get out, we won because of you, your last shot got us the win by ten points when the snitch was caught by Draco,” Harry continued saying
“Lay down Harry, we should go to sleep,” I suggested pulling the blanket from under me. “You must be tired sleeping in a chair,” I chuckled moving so Harry could crawl in.
“Yeah sleeping in the chair was kinda sucky,” Harry laughed laying down. “But I wasn’t gonna let you wake up alone, I got Ron and Hermione to bring me food,”
“Thank you Harry,” I whispred leaning on his chest to lay down. “For everything, my uncles not gonna like this very much when he hears about this,” I chuckled.
“Remus never liked you playing quidditch, can’t imagine the ruckus when he comes here in the morning,” Harry laughed running his hands in my hair.
#harrypotter#harry potter#harry potter marauders#harry potter x reader#harry potter x y/n#harry potter x you#harry potter x oc#harry potter x#SiriusBlack#RemusLupin#JamesPotter#Quiddtich#Draco Malfoy
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Immovable Object Meet Unstoppable Force
Summary: Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir. Chat Noir harnesses the power of destruction and bad luck. He is an unstoppable force.
What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?
Stupid shenanigans is what happens.
(Read it here on AO3!)
((Beta’d by the amazing @xthreeravensx!!! Thank you for putting up with the craziness that is my brain and the fics I conjure into this world!))
(((They are aged up 10 years, so 24-25 years old, in this fic)))
It’s a stare down.
Determined green battling the bored creme yellow.
An old western song plays somewhere in the background, prompting Adrien to narrow his eyes, twitching his fingers in nervousness.
He’s Chat Noir, one part of the Protectors of Paris. A wielder of one half of the two most powerful forces in the universe. He was chosen to temper the unyielding, unstoppable force that is Plagg; a being made of pure energy. The bringer of destruction and harbinger of chaos.
He has lived with the melodramatic cat for ten years.
He has been through Hell and back, and has come out alive (if smelling like cheese).
This is no match for him.
Slowly, he crouches down, his body bending and coiling like a spring. He rolls onto the balls of his feet, slowly raising his coiled arms up, ready to pounce.
He waits a second, two seconds, making sure his target is unaware of his presence. And when he’s satisfied that he is unnoticed, he pounces.
Faster than the blink of an eye, he flies at his target, and his fingers clamp down around the cool plastic of the container as he rolls mid air to land in his back on the hardwood floor, eyes never leaving the mocking words “easy open” that are slapped on the paper wrapped around the offensive jar.
“Easy open,” it says. HA. Tell that to his tired, crippled hands that have been slipping and sliding on the edges of the lid of the jar. Tell that to the knife that had tried to get under the rim of the lid, only to bend in unfix-able ways as it slipped and slid around the lid.
It’s been an hour since he’s tried to open this jar containing the oh-so-precious cargo that is Plagg’s favorite cheese, which has been “marinating” for the last year. He’s almost relieved by the fact that he can’t open it, for he shudders at the smell that must be trapped within.
Almost.
But seeing as Plagg will not cease his horrible whining and moaning (something about how he cannot continue to live in a world where his most favorite delicacy is unavailable) Adrien cannot just simply give up.
He almost resorts to throwing the jar at his wall when an idea strikes him. With a wicked grin, he slowly turns to face the unsuspecting Plagg, his gaze glinting with predatory glee. “Oh Plagg~” he says in a soft, eery sing-song tone.
Instantly, the cat’s ears perk up as the tiny being whips around, his eyes wide and fearful. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Adrien replies, his grin growing ever wider
“No, I ref-“ he barely gets the words out before Adrien is cutting him off with “Transform me!”
Where an instant before stood a weak, skinny man holding a jar of incredible strength now stands a man of equal strength in black leather and cat ears.
He turns his neon green eyes down at the jar, his slightly oval pupils expanding until they nearly envelope the entirety of his irises. He clamps a black, leather glove down on the stubborn lid, knowing that the anti-slip material on the palm of his glove will do the trick, he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and twists.
For a moment, his hand doesn’t move, but with a “pop” his hand moves and Adrien nearly shouts with glee! His eyes snap open, and he removes his hand to find...
That the lid has not moved a millimeter.
“GAH!” he shouts as he finally throws the jar behind him, not caring where it lands, just as long as he doesn’t need to spend anymore time trying to open—
There is no shattering of glass.
Why is there no shattering of glass?
Surely, if it landed on the floor, or against the side of a desk or drawer or nightstand the glass would have shattered, or there would have at least been a crack!
Slowly, fearfully, he turns around, and falls to his knees with a terrified cry as he finds that the jar has somehow made its way onto his bed, the center of his bed, without a scratch on it.
He is certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that the jar is sentient, and can move on it’s own, and is thus mocking him with the way that it is just laying in the center of his bed, crooked, with the lid facing him.
Daring him.
“Fine” he growls out as he gets to his booted feet. “Fine, I didn’t want it to be like this, but you leave me no choice.”
He grabs the jar with his left hand and glares at it for a solid minute, putting the fear of God into it. Nothing can escape the wrath of a god, especially the wrath of a hungry Plagg.
With a downright evil laugh, Adrien whispers “cataclysm” and revels in the energy rushing to pool around his right hand, the crackle of black lightning and the way black bubbles appear and disappear silently.
“Say hello to Satan for me, will ya?” He says as he brings his hand to the jar, a sinister laugh bubbling up from the inner workings of his throat as the jar’s impending doom comes ever closer.
He closes his eyes, and touches the jar, feeling the energy rush from his hand and into the jar, and his grin grows wider, wider, wider and he opens his eyes.
...only for his grin to drop off his face at the speed of light as he catches the paper around the jar crumbling to dust, the glass untouched, and the lid still fully intact.
He falls to his knees with a pain filled “Nnnooooooooooooo!” Before resting the jar on the ground.
He has been bested, by an object that is infinitely younger than the powers he has been granted.
What the kids are saying is true. The new outgrow the old, and the old are forced to bow down before their new ki-
“Adrien, what are you doing?” comes the voice of an angel and he whips around to face his lovely, beautiful wife. Her midnight blue hair pulled back into a braid that rests on her chest, she’s wearing a loose black shirt that accentuates the glow of her skin, the light grey sweatpants she’s wearing the height of fashion.
And the barely-there baby-bump on her stomach is the light of his life.
He instantly shoots to his feet and steps in front of the damn jar, hiding it from view, his tail swishing with nervous energy.
“Oh, nothing, dear wife!” he says with false cheeriness as he silently plots the demise of the jar. Maybe a drop from ten stories will break its impenetrable glass?
Marinette quirks an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his lies. He curses their ten years of experience learning each other inside and out, forward and backward. And the jar. The jar is clearly the real reason his wife saw through him so easily. The jar is omniscient and omnipotent, and is out to destroy him. But he will beat it. Nothing can keep Chat Noir from his goal.
“Adrien,” she says in that specific tone, and he hangs his head. So much for being the all mighty Chat Noir.
“...The jar won’t open,” he says, defeated.
Marinette lets out a startled laugh and his spirits are lifted instantly. “Oh kitty,” she says, amusement and love clear in her voice and he can’t help but melt a little.
He watches her walk over, bend down to pick up the jam jar, turn to him, and scratch him under the chin. He doesn’t even fight the purr that escapes his throat.
“Did you forget again?” she says, laughter barely concealed. “These aren’t twist lids.” And with a beautiful, slender, all powerful finger, Marinette pushes down on the circular button that only now shows itself to his eyes and with a near silent “pop” the plastic lid is removed, and the stench that is emitted nearly blinds them both as it permeates the air around them.
With a flash of light, Chat Noir is no more and Adrien is on his knees, hugging his wife’s legs, singing her praise, planning songs of how the most powerful warrior to exist defeated the fear inducing plastic container jar.
Plagg’s joyful cries of triumph and Marinette’s laugh fill the house and Adrien can’t be happier.
The new, plastic container jar will have to meet it’s ultimate demise some other day, but for now, he’s just gonna be happy that he doesn’t have to worry about it any longer.
#miraculous ladybug#ml crack fic#my writing#Adrien is a big dumb sometimes#but he is an adorable lovable big dumb#slightly sleep deprived#only slightly#Adrien agreste#aged up by 10 years
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24/7 Champion (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)
Anonymous Request: Helllooo! I was thinking about a WWE/USWNT crossover where they bring in KO to win the 24/7 title and the reader is the current holder, shenanigans ensue as they chase one another around the arena in search of winning the title back.
You we excited, more than excited.
You, the WWE 24/7 Champion, were meeting the USWNT.
The stadium was empty, aside from the players and their coaching staff, considering it was a closed practice.
You watch the practice with peaked interest, practically giddy as your eyes dart from player to player.
“Y/N?” You turn around smiling at the camera crew who was there to document your exchange with the team.
“Hey how are you doing?” You smile at the pretty reporter with the microphone.
“Doing just fine thanks.” She grins.
“So, what’s it mean to you to be here with the United States Women’s National Team?”
“It means the absolute world to me, I mean, seeing women in the sports industry, that have made such strives in not only the world of soccer, it’s an honor.” You beam.
A whistle blows and you turn around grinning as the women make their way off the field, a number of them heading your way.
The first player to make it to you is the legend, Carlo Lloyd.
“Y/N, it’s a honor.” You hold your hand out and the woman grins, giving your hand a shake.
“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Carli smiles.
Alex Morgan and Julie Ertz move your way with a smile, along with Megan Rapinoe, Tobin Heath and Christen Press.
You out stretch your arms as you bow over and over again at the group of women, who all laugh.
Another player, Kelley O’Hara makes her way towards her and you grin excitedly, bouncing on your heels at the prospect of talking to your favorite player.
“It’s such an honor to meet you all.” You grin happily.
“Nice to meet you too!” Julie grins as she pulls you into a hug.
Christen is next in line for a hug, and the hug train only ends after every member of the team has had a hug.
“Dude! I watch you all the time on Raw!” Emily Sonnett grins.
“Seriously, I don’t know how you guys do it. Flying off the top rope and doing those crazy flips.” Lindsey Horan says as she flaps her arms around.
“And those punches!” Sonnett says as she punches Lindsey in the arm.
“Nice title.” Kelley nods to the 24/7 title on your shoulder.
“Thanks! Takes a lot of work to keep it though.” You shake your head as you adjust it on your shoulder. “When they say 24/7 title, they mean 24/7, my head is on a swivel.” You chuckle humorlessly.
“So, anyone could basically come and take the title?” Megan asks and you nod.
“They’d have to have a ref.” You shrug, glancing around with a smirk. “And thankfully, I don’t see one around.” You sigh, but when you turn around your eyes widen.
A man donned in black and white is standing before you.
“Oh shit.” You mumble, only to be rolled up into a pin.
The ref falls to the turf.
“ONE! TWO! THREE!” He shouts as he smacks his hand on the ground.
“YEAH!” You hear Kelley O’Hara cheer as she holds the title high above her head.
You move to your feet, your eyes wide.
“Who’s the 24/7 Champ NOW!?” She yells, unaware that you’re sneaking behind her.
She inhales sharply as you roll her up, digging your feet into the turf as the ref counts.
“ONE! TWO! THREE!”
You grab the title off the ground with a smirk.
“Looks like I’m the 24/7 Champion now.” You shrug.
Kelley glares at you from her place on the ground before jumping to her feet.
“Oh fuck.” You mumble as you turn around and run, the defender on your heels.
“Get back here!” She yells and you scoff, turning around and running backwards.
“No way! You have the World Cup! Leave me and my title alone!” You yell, turning back around and running away as fast as you can, the ref running after the two of you.
Eventually, you’re football tackled by the small woman.
“Kelley!” You hear Alex yell, laughing as the woman does her best to pin you.
She wraps her arms around your neck and her legs around your middle, but you just move to your feet with a grin.
“TAP!” She yells but you just snicker as you move towards the other players.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Kelley, we can’t take you anywhere.” Sonnett says as she shakes her head.
“Come on!” Kelley says as she tightens her hold on you, her hot puffing against your ear sends a shiver down your spine.
Suddenly, Sonnett and Lindsey share a glance before join the fray, getting you onto the ground so Kelley can again, pin you for the one, two, three.
“Damn it.” You grumble as Kelley celebrates before running off into the arena.
You can’t help but laugh as you wiggle out of Sonnett and Lindsey’s hold before darting after the defender, yelling over your shoulder.
“I won’t forget that!”
***
“Kelley...” You sing as you glance around the arena's hallways.
You cross your arms across your chest and let out a grumble.
“You have to come out sometime.”
Silently, you lean against a nearby wall, stomping your feet as if you’re walking away, your footsteps getting softer and softer.
You stay stock still, holding your breath as you wait for any sound.
Suddenly, the woman rounds the corner, grinning cockily.
She spots the ref before she spots you and that’s the opening you need.
You roll her up in the pin, grinning as the ref again counts the one, two, three for the fourth time that day.
“YEAH!” You cheer as you go to run away, the defender huffing as she stares up at you with a pout.
You take a deep breath and make your way towards her, holding your hand out to her with a shy smile, one she immediately returns as she takes it and you haul her to her feet.
You look down at the title on your shoulder and hand it to her with a smile, grabbing her arm and pulling it around your neck before you immediately tap.
The ref shakes his head, but holds Kelley’s hand up in the air.
“Looks good on you champ.” You wink, the short brunette blushing as she watches you clip the title to her waist.
“Well, I’ve been bested by Kelley O’Hara.” You grin and the defender shakes her head.
“Why did you do that?” She asks with a smile and you shrug, your face red from not only the exertion of running nonstop around the arena.
“We have to document the first USWNT 24/7 champion, don’t we?” You grin and Kelley laughs, throwing her arm around your shoulder.
“You realize what that means, right?” She asks and your eyes widen as you stare at the woman who’s grinning mischievously.
“I don’t like that look.”
***
“Seriously, isn’t this overkill?” You ask, grunting when Kelley puts her foot on your stomach.
“No, I’m the 24/7 champion and if you want this title back, you have to do what I say.” She winks and you roll your eyes as you lay flat on the turf below you.
Her teammates laugh as Kelley holds the title in the air, a soccer ball laying just behind her as her mouth hangs open in celebration.
You huff as her teammates take multiple photos before posting them to their Instagram.
Eventually, you’re pulled to your feet by the woman, glancing down at your stomach.
“I’m injured!” You shout dramatically as you lift your shirt revealing the small, red indents of Kelley’s cleats on your muscular abdomen.
You look up, cheeks flushing red when you realize Kelley is looking at your exposed abdomen with wide eyes.
You clear your throat, dropping your shirt and that’s what pulls Kelley out of her trance, she too clearing her throat as she glances away from you.
“You alright?” Alex asks the defender with a smirk and she nods rapidly.
“Yeah!” She shouts, her voice an octave higher.
“Sure, looks like it.” Megan smirks and the defender’s eyes narrow.
You take a step towards Kelley, and suddenly, your slipping your arms under hers from behind.
“What the...” She stops midsentence as you intertwine your fingers behind her neck, effectively putting her into a Full Nelson.
“Hey!” She shouts as she squirms but you only snicker.
“Tap O’Hara!” You shout, laughing as the woman wiggles in your hold.
Your laughter is contagious because soon the two of you are laughing as you playfully wrestle, Kelley eventually getting out of your hold to wrap her arms around your middle.
“Christ why are you so heavy!” She grunts and you smirk.
“Nothing but muscle!” You laugh as Kelley tries to get you down on the ground.
Somehow, one of you trips, in reality it’s Sonnett who’d pushed the two of you over but you wouldn’t find that out until sometime later, suddenly you’re both on the ground, you flat on your back while Kelley lands directly on top of you.
She pulls back, her brown orbs wide as they dart around your face.
You close your eyes and let out a laugh.
“Help, I’ve fallen for you and I can’t get up.” You snort, your cheeks flushing.
Kelley scrambles off of you, shaking her head with a small smile as her cheeks darken.
“You’ll have to stay down there then.” She shrugs and you groan loudly.
Everyone’s eyes widen when you rock back, your palms flat on the turf on either side of your head as you kick your legs up, preforming a kip-up that has you on your feet in seconds.
“That was kind of hot.” Sonnett whispers only to be smacked not only by Kelley but Lindsey as well.
Kelley looks at the title on her waist with a sigh before she moves towards you.
Your brows furrow as she wraps her arms around you.
Your cheeks flush red and your eyes widen, but nonetheless you wrap your arms around her.
Almost immediately she pats your back repeatedly.
“Winner!” The ref says as he grabs your arm and holds it up.
You look down at Kelley, smiling as she takes a step back and places the title on your shoulder.
“Looks good on you champ.” She winks and you blush as she places her hand on the other shoulder.
“It looked pretty good on you too.” You smirk.
A few feet away, Megan leans towards Alex.
“Are they having a moment?” She asks and Ali nods.
“They’re having a moment.”
“Should we leave them alone?” Mallory asks and almost everyone scoffs.
“No.” They say at roughly the same time.
Meanwhile, you and Kelley are simply smiling at one another, eyes glassy.
Eventually, you phone rings and you retrieve it from your pocket, reading the phone with a huff.
“Unfortunately, I have to get going.” You frown and Kelley nods, she too frowning.
“I was wondering-
“Do you think we could-
You both start at roughly the same time, the two of you blushing.
“You go first.” You both say at the same time and Kelley lets out a huff.
Kelley takes a step towards you and your eyes widen, Y/E/C orbs locking with Kelley’s dark brown ones. She’s so close in fact that you can count the number of black flecks in her eyes.
“Hey.” Kelley snaps her fingers and your eyes widen for a second before your clear your throat.
“You alright there?” Kelley asks and you smile bashfully.
“Your eyes are just...” You start, cheeks flushing.
Her eyes narrow as she stares at you, brows furrowed.
“Beautiful.” You finish softly.
Kelley’s eyes widen and her cheeks go red, mimicking the flush on your own cheeks.
“This is adorable.” Sonnett whispers, only to be immediately shushed by the rest of the team.
“Maybe you could come to a show some time, I could get you backstage?” You say with a smile.
“Oh, you know someone?” She asks and you shrug.
“I have my connections.”
Kelley’s arms slip around you and you’re only happy to oblige your arms slipping around her small form.
“You’re so...” Kelley starts as she gives you a tighter squeeze.
“Hard.” She says, pulling back, her eyes as wide as saucers when she realizes what she’d just said.
“Kinky.” You say with a smirk.
Kelley’s eyes narrow as she slaps you in the chest, though you can see the tips of her ears have started to redden.
“So, I’ll see you soon I hope?” You say, hopefully and Kelley grins as she pulls you into a hug.
“You will.” She whispers in your ear as the two of you pull apart.
“So!” Sonnett yells loudly, pulling your attention away from Kelley and to the blonde who’s standing with the rest of the team.
“If Kelley comes to see you, does that mean when can too?” She asks hopefully and Kelley scowls.
“No.”
The women begin to bicker and you watch with a smile, laughing at the way Kelley angrily flails her arms.
You look down at your title with a grin, happy that the 24/7 Championship brought you hear, and to the woman you’d eventually call your girlfriend.
#kelley o'hara#kelley o'hara x reader#kelley o'hara imagine#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#woso imagine#uswnt
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wangxian au where lwj is a popular hand model and wwx is an independent jewellery maker [Part 2]
[Part 1]
their monthly sibling catch-up jenga ruins wwx’s plans to mope for the foreseeable future.
jc is concentrating very hard on wiggling a piece out and wwx would usually make fun of him but he can only conjure enough energy to pull out the easy looking pieces today so he has no high ground.
“name 3 good things that happened to you.” jc frowns as he reads the wooden cuboid, “like ever? or in the last month?”
jyl doesn’t quite give him a look, but a slight downturn of her lip still gets the point across.
jc sighs, “an old student of mine opened a gallery, xichen and i went for brunch and wei wuxian hasn’t bothered me in a while. what’s up with that by the way?”
“my turn.” wwx says unenthusiastically and pulls a loose jenga piece. ‘how is your love life?’ it reads. can jenga be rigged? it has to be rigged.
“you know we’re allowed to ask questions outside the jenga right?” jc snaps.
wwx knows. wwx also knows that the jenga questions were only introduced by jyl to stimulate conversation between an angry jc and a stubborn wwx when he’d come back two years ago from his apprenticeship abroad.
but wwx also doesn’t want to talk about his humiliating interaction with the man who his brother had called ‘wangji’. he even has a nice name. why is wwx’s life so hard?
“a-xian,” jyl starts, “are you alright?”
wwx looks at her with a pout, “how can i be when we’ve not seen each other for weeks? i missed you.”
jyl smiles indulgently, “i missed you too. next time you should come with me, lotus pier seems empty without you two.”
jc looks like he wants to prod wwx more but then he looks over at wwx’s jenga piece and starts to laugh. wwx hates it here.
—•—
lwj wears gloves when he’s not working to shield his hands from things like tanning, small scratches, drying out etc. any normal person would overlook these as minuscule imperfections but it could put him out of his job for weeks
he has custom made moisturising cotton gloves that he wears during the night; and thicker cotton or leather gloves for the day, depending on the weather
at first, he had found this incredibly bothersome. a month or so into it he stopped noticing them and suffered through various incidents where he tried to eat with gloves on or, on a particularly horrifying occasion, wash his hands with them.
but now, he has begun to indulge. he buys gloves in materials which are impractical, which he can only wear when he has nowhere to go and nothing to do.
there are the pastel lace gloves that draw patterns from his fingers up to his elbows, the white satin ones with frills, and finally the fingerless black gloves made of supple, soft leather.
(for ref)
they make him feel a certain type of way that he is too embarrassed to put in words, so he doesn’t.
he puts them away in a drawer on the furthest corner in his wardrobe that he only opens when he needs a confidence boost or after a particularly tiring shoot
today happens to be the latter, except it has been multiple tiring shoots and while his muscles aren’t aching anymore, he still feels like he deserves something nice.
he retrieves a new pair of leather gloves that have an adjustable belt at the wrist. he tightens the strap to the point that he can’t move his hand too much without it hurting. he hums, a pleased sound escaping his lips, and finally lets himself go
—•—
wwx has spent the last hour answering nhs’ questions about his business, future plans and why he wants to work with lan wangji (who is apparently a hand model? and a super successful one at that???)
wwx answers to the best of his abilities as his head spins from the turn of events and the recent information that has come to light. it’s- a lot.
finally nhs nods and picks up his phone to call someone.
“not presentable... what does that- it doesn’t matter, i’m not calling you here for a shoot. just come here and i will explain.” with that nhs hangs up the phone as if someone would have jumped through it otherwise
wwx, who has finally managed to absorb everything, asks, “was that lan wangji?”
nhs just smiles cryptically. wwx’s question is answered soon enough though, as lwj walks into the office twenty minutes later. he blinks at wwx but does not show any other outword reaction as he takes a seat
nhs begins to speak, “i have spoken to wei-xiong and come to the conclusion that he is not stalking you.”
lwj looks at wwx and then back at nhs, not quite an eyebrow-raise but as close to it as it gets.
“wei-xiong wants you to model for him. i will let you two speak for a while. there is no pressure, just a light discussion.” nhs says and then skips out before any of them can stop him
the air in the room gets significantly more tense. lwj’s expression is blank and when wwx can’t look at it anymore, he decides to look at his crossed arms instead
“holy shit dude, are you ok?” wwx shouts, alarmed at the bruised red marks lining lwj’s wrist where it pokes out of his long sleeved sweater
lwj looks down at it, seemingly horrified, and pulls his sleeves down before wwx can get a better look.
“are you... hurt?” wwx asks gently.
lwj shakes his head. “i’m fine.”
he sounds like he’s telling the truth. this immediately short circuits wwx’s brain because.. why else are there bruises on his wrists... what else could possibly... oh my god he likes to be tied up, wwx’s brain supplies
thankfully he manages to keep the thought to himself this time. lwj still looks at him like he heard it all the same.
“you are not stalking me.” lwj states.
“not really? i mean not for the reasons you think.” wwx cringes at himself. but lwj hasn’t walked away yet which means he must be willing to hear him out this time.
“to be honest i’ve been in a bit of a slump these past few months. i saw you at the university and wanted to work with you, i had no idea you were a hand model. i didn’t even know that was a thing.” wwx says.
lwj scrutinises him for a few seconds then nods. “thank you for explaining.”
lwj clearly sees this as the end of the conversation but wwx doesn’t want him to leave again so he starts to talk about the hand chains he has been working on the past few weeks, pulling out his phone to show lwj pictures of a few.
wwx is with his jewellery how new parents are with their babies. he has been gushing about the complicated silver work that he plans to refine over the next few days when he looks up to see lwj’s face inches from his.
lwj is looking at his phone, seemingly absorbing his words, because when wwx pauses lwj looks at him as if to ask him to continue. wwx gulps. being on the receiving end of such undivided attention, no less from such a beautiful man, is almost intimidating.
then lwj blinks again and the spell is broken.
wwx straightens up, “ah sorry for rambling.”
“if we were to work together,” lwj starts, “what would it entail?”
the implication that lwj is seriously considering working with him, a small business beneath his usual collaborations, is both flattering and slightly unreal.
“i would need you to come in to take measurements, maybe a couple of photographs so i can have refrence to your skin tone and bone structure when designing.” wwx says, voice professional.
“my... are you making these specifically for me?” lwj tilts his head, a gesture so adorably confused that wwx wants to coo.
wwx rubs his nose, “more like i’m using you as a reference? having a clear picture in my head helps kickstart my creations. once i have cohesion within my designs it’s easy to expand my range from there if that makes sense.”
lwj nods, looking contemplative. “won’t you need me to try them?”
wwx nods, seeing them on someone is usually important. after all, jewellery is made to be worn. “you’ll need to come to my workshop for that though, so i can make minor adjustments on the spot. my thoughts tend to run away from me sometimes and i forget half my observations as i work. it won’t be often though, i’ll only call you in when necessary. and if you’re too busy then we can always reschedule.” wwx says.
“you are too accommodating.” lwj says, “in this industry, you shouldn’t be.”
wwx feels a little stricken by the statement. he laughs nervously, “it’s not like i can have you sit there for hours while i work.”
“if it makes it easier for you, then you should. i’m used to holding still.” lwj says, serious.
“is that an offer?” wwx raises an eyebrow. because this whole discussion certainly sounds like they’re making a deal.
lwj turns his head to the side and the loose strands of his hair swish with the movement. it’s such a graceful motion that wwx thinks he has surely practiced this before.
when he turns back, wwx notices he’s holding a business card out towards wwx. “you can contact my agent about my scheduling. my number is only for emergency appointments in case you need them.”
wwx is speechless. he cannot believe he actually pulled this off what the fu—
he’s still feeling thunderstruck when he gets home. with numb fingers, he has managed to program lwj’s number into his phone because he knows he’ll lose the card sometime soon. his contact name is just ‘💅🏻’
it’s both because wwx thinks lan wangji is too formal, and because he has an undeniable urge to see his nails painted.
it’s just so he can know what colours and gemstones would suit him of course. the thought that probably everything would suit lwj is firmly shut down and pushed at the back of wwx’s head.
—•—
lwj gets a call at 6am the next morning. he doesn’t know why but he immediately thinks of wwx. it turns out to be nmj
“wangji, have you been well?” nmj asks.
“yes.” lwj says, unsure of why nmj is calling him so early in the morning. isn’t he supposed to be at the gym at this hour?
“that is good to hear. are you busy?”
“no. i have five hours until my shoot.” lwj says, still confused. a feeling of dread settles in his stomach.
“let’s go for coffee then. i want to treat you.” nmj says.
lwj is silent for a few seconds then, “why?”
“i need to discuss an urgent matter with you.” nmj says.
if lwj wasn’t alarmed before, he definitely is now. he agrees to meet nmj in a cafe he visits regularly.
when he gets there, nmj is waiting for him at the door, attracting every passerby’s attention with his muscles bulging out of his grey t-shirt.
when lwj comes to a stop before him, nmj gives him a small smile and opens the door for him, gesturing him to go in.
people look as they walk over to a table in the back and keep looking as they take a seat. lwj makes nmj sit with his back to the cafe so he hides lwj completely from their eyes.
“wangji,” nmj starts seriously, then pauses, pushing a glass of water towards him.
lwj doesn’t touch it.
nmj sighs, “i was at huaisang’s office the other day and bumped into a man. he came there looking for you so i asked who he was. luckily huaisang had told me about him before, su she?”
lwj takes the glass of water and chugs it. nmj looks at him with concern.
“i turned him away but i’m worried about you wangji.” nmj says, pushing his own glass of water towards lwj.
lwj doesn’t frown but it’s a close call. “i do not know what he wants.”
nmj’s face hardens. “clearly nothing good. huaisang stopped me from punching him but if you ever need me to, feel free to call me.”
lwj shakes his head, “it’ll be okay. possibly.”
this makes nmj frown even more. “i’m serious, call me if he dares follow you. we cannot press charges until he portrays to be an actual threat but i will protect you.”
“i do not need protection.” lwj’s grip tightens on his glass.
“i know that.” nmj says, “but i will offer my protection either way. it’s good to know someone has your back.”
lwj wants to fight him on this, they barely know each other outside work and lwj does /not/ need someone to do his dirty work. he doesn’t though, because he is tired of carrying the fear of being recognised/followed all by himself. it’s not like he can burden nhs or lxc.
and nmj is neither judging, nor underestimating him. he is just offering to have his back should he ever need it, and it’s not... a bad thing. it’s almost like having a friend in the industry, and maybe he needs some of those.
so he nods. even nmj seems surprised by this but gives him a smile and orders him a coffee, true to his word.
nhs emails lwj a document containing his schedule for the next month and wwx is nestled comfortably in the only free hours he gets on fridays. he’s not as upset about it as he thought he would be
at 4pm friday, lwj drives to wwx’s ‘workshop’ which is simply an extension of his untidy living space. lwj doesn’t know how someone so meticulous with their handiwork could be so in a borderline hazardous workspace.
wwx conjures up a beanbag and gestures for lwj to sit down. lwj looks at the purple monstrosity and then at wwx, dubious.
“aiyah i’m just trying to make your comfortable!” wwx says, “graphing out your measurements will take a while.”
lwj doesn’t remember the last time someone cared for his comfort when he was at work. he has to stand for hours when only his upper body is in frame, and bend his fingers in unnatural ways as per the director’s requirements. discomfort is his status quo
he has never complained. it’s part of his job to hold still and not draw anyone’s focus to the less important parts of him, i.e. his face, by voicing his discomfort. it hardly bothers him anymore.
“are you sure you wouldn’t rather have me sit upright?” lwj asks, because while wwx seems like a considerate person lwj does not want to compromise the quality of his work.
“it’s gonna take an hour,” wwx says scandalised, “i’m not cruel. besides, i already received the photographs i needed for reference so you can just chill out till i do my work.”
lwj doesn’t mention how an hour is nothing compared to the time he had stood with his hands outstretched for seven hours. with an internal sigh, he gingerly sinks down on the beanbag. he hates to admit it, but it is actually comfortable.
wwx smirks at him like he knows, then gathers his measuring tools and approaches lwj. lwj removes his cotton gloves and places them on his knees.
once wwx is close enough, he takes lwj’s proffered wrist and winds a measuring tape around it. lwj doesn’t want to stare straight at wwx’s.. ehm yeah so he looks up.
this is just as bad of an idea, because where lwj has noticed wwx is attractive, seeing him from this angle is just... too much. he can’t close his eyes either, because that will make it look like he’s— enjoying this or something.
he decides to look to the side instead, spotting a framed picture of wwx and a toddler.
“is he your son?” he asks, because he feels the need to fill the silence for the first time in his life.
wwx looks at the picture, then laughs, “no, that’s my nephew, jin ling. he’s three and already spoiled rotten by my family.”
“do you have a big family?” lwj asks. asking personal questions is both unlike him and probably very unprofessional.
wwx, however, smiles indulgently. “it’s just my shijie, her husband jin zixuan, jin ling and my brother jiang cheng. well those are the nearest and dearest ones.”
“jiang cheng?” lwj asks.
wwx frowns, “yeah. do you know him?”
“he and my brother are close friends.” lwj says.
“wait, xichen is your brother?” wwx asks, then cringes at his informality, “i guess that’s lan xichen huh? i never knew his family name.”
“and what about wen qing? how do you know her?” wwx asks as he starts to try different sizes of measurement rings to see what fits lwj’s fingers.
it takes lwj a few seconds to answer. “wen qing drew studies of human anatomy for her final project.”
“let me guess,” wwx grins, placing a ring on his middle finger, “were you the hand section of her anatomy?”
lwj feels his ears burn for some reason. “yes. it’s how i got discovered.”
“discovered? like you got scouted for hand modelling based on a painting?” wwx pauses in his movements.
“nie huaisang was present at the final display at the university’s gallery, he’s fond of art.” lwj says.
wwx looks impressed, “just like that?”
“it is common for hand models.” lwj says.
“okay, so in your professional opinion, could i sell-“ wwx pauses, “could i be a hand model?”
he wiggles his fingers in front of lwj’s face.
“no.” lwj says.
“oh wow, blunt but effective.” wwx pouts
“you have callouses.” lwj explains, taking a closer look at wwx’s hands, “and dents from using your tools. things like cuticles, tanning and nails are fixable, but the others will remain permanent if you plan on still making jewellery and doing other strenuous work.”
when he looks up, wwx’s face is unreadable. thinking that he has offended the man, he draws back. “i apologise.”
that seems to snap wwx out of it, “don’t! you don’t need to apologise. it’s just– i don’t think anyone has ever answered a silly question of mine so sincerely. i’m still absorbing it.”
“i’m just being honest,” lwj says, “you have a good bone structure. you could have considered this line of work were it not for your existing business.”
wwx drops lwj’s hand and places both of his own on his cheeks, “i’m pretty sure that you’re messing with me but i can’t prove it so i’m gonna let it go.”
lwj suppresses a smile. maybe he doesn’t need the free hours on fridays.
[Part 3]
#wangxian fic#wangxian#lan wangji#wei wuxian#lwj x wwx#lan zhan#wei ying#the untamed#cql#mdzs#my fics#hand model au#long fic
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152. porky the wrestler (1937)
release date: january 9th, 1937
series: looney tunes
director: tex avery
starring: joe dougherty (porky), tex avery (man mountain), mel blanc (porky screaming)
boy, these voice actors have some weird names. what kind of name is “mel blanc” anyway? that’s right, the moment we’ve all been waiting for: mel blanc joins the scene! many (myself included for awhile, always forgetting this cartoon) consider picador porky his first cartoon, where he supplies the voice of two drunks in a bull costume, but this is the first cartoon he does voices in. his part is minor, just porky doing daffy’s shrieks before daffy existed, but it was enough to confuse the hell out of me the first time, thinking that joe dougherty somehow perfected the Mel Blanc Daffy Shriek before mel or daffy ever came on board. so, this is a big, big deal! mel wouldn’t voice porky until porky’s duck hunt, but he’d supply his voice in picador porky, the fella with the fiddle, and porky’s romance. welcome home, mel! pertaining to the plot: porky is ecstatic to see the local wrestling match, but he gets much more than he bargained for when he finds himself in the wrestling ring instead.
there’s a rather tasteful opening that reminds me of the techniques frank tashlin would use in his cartoons: a printing press is busy printing a hefty stack of newspapers, with overlays of the papers flipping by as an offscreen voice declares “EXTRA! EXTRA!” we get a glimpse of the headline: CAPACITY CROWDS TO WITNESS CHAMPIONSHIP WRESTLING TONIGHT. as if CAPAPCITY CROWDS wasn’t enough of an indicator, tex totes his love of typography as the words EVERYBODY’S GOING zoom into view at the bottom.
the next shot is a collection of eager hitchhikers, awaiting a ride to the big fight. a wiener dog extends his body back and forth as he jabs his thumb out, a lounging man signals with his toe, a dog with crossed eyes signals in opposite directions, another man droning “calling all cars, calling all cars, give me a ride, please,” a line that would be delivered in the same monotone voice in a number of shorts. the transition sweeps across the scene break up momentum slightly, but it’s not supposed to be a quickly cut urgent scene in the first place, so it works.
included in the interminable line of hitchhikers is our star porky pig. “the fella with the fiddle” would temporarily be his theme song for 1936, but “puddin’ head jones” would continue to be a theme song for him from 1937 onward, even used as far as 1946 in bob mckimson’s daffy doodles. it’s a catchy song for sure, with amusing lyrics, essentially insinuating that porky’s a bit of a dope (which isn’t too far off). he too works his best hitchhiker’s thumb, but doesn’t receive much luck. a man drives right past him in his jalopy, which falls to pieces, the man still suspended in mid-air. he stuffs his broken car parts into his suitcase, now joining the hitchhiker line. another car screeches to a halt for porky, a man asking “where ya goin’, sonny?” porky approaches the car, lugging his suitcase. “why, i’m goin’ to the wrassling match.” lovely comedic timing as the man inside the car declares “so am i,” slamming the door shut and screeching away, leaving porky in the dust.
no matter—the sound of honking signals porky’s attention towards a long, pompous limo, “THE CHALLENGER” emblazoned on the screen below. inside the limo, the portly challenger spots the hitchhiking pig and signals for his driver to pick him up, by grabbing the driver’s head and extending his neck over to him. a lovely visual gag that’s enhanced by its nonchalant nature. that’s what i love about tex’s gags, they feel so natural and nonchalant. there’s never a feeling of “LOOK! LAUGH AT THIS!”, they just happen so offhandedly that it makes the joke all the funnier.
screeching to a halt (the tires skidding and turning into shoes to halt), the limo picks up porky, who happily steps inside. the challenger says in a thick, russian accent, “hello, what’s your name, kiddo?” “my name’s porky pig! what’s yours?” thus spawns a reoccurring gag. even here it isn’t pronounced correctly, as the challenger stumbles on his own name (i’m going by one of the pronunciations in the cartoon that feels the most correct): “my name is hugo yakinowskiokiwoskioski.” he tells porky that he’s going to fight the champ—lovely animation as he gets up in the camera, eyeing the audience to assert his dominance.
outside of the wrestling arena, two men pace around impatiently, one groveling “looks like this guy yakinowskiokiwoskioski has stood us up, chief.” just then, the limo crawls into view and turns around the corner, the limo extending and then the rest of its “body” catching up like an inchworm, a very popular gag in the looney verse. yakinowskiokiwoskioski marches out of the limo, but for reasons unknown, falls straight through a trap door in the sidewalk. porky crawls out of the limo next, trap door now closed, when the two men spot him and heckle him. “you’re late, yakinowskiokiwoskioski!” they grab porky by the arms and drag him away.
inside the arena, the crowd is clapping and whistling along to the underscore of “parade of the animals”. one of the assistants pops his head up to the ring, addressing the burly, bearded champ. “yakinowskiokiwoskioski just came in, champ.”
the referee, a gangly man armed with a megaphone, addresses the fighters. i love the animation of the ref, a literal rubber hose character as he sticks his head through the megaphone. “in this corner at 406 and 7/8ths, man mountain the champion!” man mountain shakes his burly fists as he receives his applause. “and in this corner, the challenger hugo manowskiowskimoski... oskimawski... brrroskioski... awww, him.” he jabs his rubbery finger at an empty corner.
below the ring is a little hideout for the wrestlers to get ready. an anxious porky sits perched on a stool, an assistant pulling a lever. a pedestal in the floor rises up and propels porky out onto the ring. thus sparks mel blanc’s first ever lines in a looney tunes cartoon: pseudo daffy shrieks. man mountain growls and bares his saliva riddled teeth, and a man sitting outside of the ring hits his knee. the reflex causes his leg to swing up and ring the wrestling bell (very clever), and a terrified porky shrieks and hoohoos as he desperately attempts to claw his way out of the ring, tripping on the ropes, but to no avail. the animation combined with blanc’s shrieks make for a hysterical scene—a good one to debut with.
man mountain slams his back into one of the wooden posts behind him, and the impact propels porky right into MM’s grip. MM bounces porky like a basketball, tex avery providing his husky vocals as MM tauntingly sings, bouncing him around through his legs. there’s a slightly jarring transition as MM tosses porky offscreen and rushes to meet him, the next cut having them already engaged in action, MM crawling on top of porky. porky manages to weasel his way out of MM’s grip, and MM spends the rest of the time tackling himself and growling, pinning his own foot down and flipping over himself. what makes the scene even better is that there’s a bystander in the crowd shouting “GIVE IT TO HIM! GIVE IT TO HIM!”
what launches next is probably one of tex’s best scenes during his looney tunes tenure, especially for his porky cartoons. while MM pounds in agony against the floor, the impact causes a spectator’s tobacco pipe to fly out of his mouth and directly into MM’s throat. MM pauses, and presses his stomach. a chuff of smoke bellows from his mouth. another press, another puff. soon, he begins to chug like a train, smoke pouring out of his mouth. attempting to escape him, the referee and porky both end up grabbing hold of MM, and they all form a train.
even better is the suspension of disbelief in the entire scene. instead of stopping there, tex pushes it to the limit. a man moves the wrestling bell to the top of the corner post, the bell ringing and swaying back and forth like a railroad crossing signal as the train passes the corner. now inside the crowd, a man offers snacks, pillows, and magazines like a train attendee. even better, a spectator goes to fetch some water from the water cooler, but the floor sways and buckles beneath him as the roar of the train rushing on the train tracks grow louder. a man even looks out a WINDOW, and we see telephone lines and a rolling countryscape zoom past. the man is shocked—not because the wrestling ring has been transformed into a train cabin, but because he’s due for his stop. he grabs his hat, suitcase, and departs.
it’s certainly a nonsense scene, but that’s what makes it so good. remember, this started because the champ swallowed a pipe. anyone could make a gag about the champ billowing smoke from a swallowed pipe, but only tex avery would think to stretch the gag out of bounds, turning the entire wrestling ring into a train cabin, complete with moving scenery. suspension of disbelief is key to appreciate the gag, and boy, is it a good one. very similar to the wild horse chase in the village smithy. funny how the strongest gags in the porky cartoons hardly involve porky at all. i love porky, he’s one of my favorite characters, but he certainly does fare better as a sidekick than front and center. regardless, there are plenty of funny moments that involve his own doing, as we’ll see later on.
porky finally distances himself from the train, when man mountain barrels into him. he takes great offense: “so you don’t wanna play choo choo, huh?” words flash on the bottom screen advertising THE AEROPLANE SPIN as MM twirls porky above his head in an aerial spin, both of them turning into a literal flash of an airplane in the process, zooming around the arena and eventually crashing into the ring.
snapping out of his momentary daze, porky gives an uncharacteristic “WOAH!” in a deeper man’s voice—definitely not dougherty’s—and rips a patch from the flooring, crawling underneath the tarp on the ground as man mountain crawls after him. he punts the pig shaped bump to one of the corners, where porky’s head pops out of the corner post. MM whacks porky in the head, which sends him propelling down through the post and out of the other diagonal post, knocking right into the perpetrator.
man mountain is seemingly down for the count, tiny porky perched on his giant physique. the referee and the crowd all count in a rhythm of twos, man mountain interjecting “uh-uh!” after the “five, six!” regardless of man mountain’s protests, porky is declared the winner. MM lifts his head up slightly, the referee placing his hand on the ground to catch him. instead, MM slams his head to the ground, and the referee now pulls out a giant, flattened hand. iris out.
this is certainly one of tex’s better porky entries, and one of his last—he’d only make 4 more after this in his entire career at warner bros. that train sequence is too wonderful for words, and i encourage everyone to check it out. it’s entirely nonsensical, but that’s the POINT, and the fact that tex sticks to it so staunchly really brings the gag to life, so you don’t care that the wrestling arena is now an entire moving train. stick to your vision and don’t give up, because these are the results that you’ll get! no matter how absurd it is, go for it. this is about as absurd as you can get, and it’s wonderful. furthermore, this short has the historical significance of being mel blanc’s cartoon. who doesn’t want to hear porky shrieking like daffy? and the reoccurring plight of yakinowskiokiwoskioski’s name is another wonderful aspect of the cartoon. watch it! it’s a great one for sure that’s worthy of your attention. go check it out for yourself!
link!
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meeting sirius black / asking you out would include...
a/n: idk why i’m having so much trouble writing lmao oopsies it’s been a hot minute. i’ve had 0 motivation for 0 reason anyway here u go request something pls :)
gryffindor!reader
- he had his eye on you since the sorting hat ceremony
- he thought you were. so cute. and you being placed in the same house was him was just all the better
- while he had had interest, he didn't see you much after that first day and forgot about you
- until fifth year
- you were in the same potions class
- of course, it had been a while
- it wasn't until the middle of first term when he recognized you
- after dicking around with remus in the back of the class, the two of them were separated
- and your usual partner, severus, had gotten replaced
- you didn’t really know severus, besides the snide comments you’d received from him on more than one occasion
- but you weren’t too ecstatic about sirius either
- you prepared yourself for the most excruciating annoyance for a lifetime
- but it wasn’t that bad ??? surprise surprise
- it took a moment for him to piece together where he knew you from
- but when he placed it, he smirked to himself, although you didn’t seem too keen on talking to him with your head in a textbook
- he found it uncomfortably silent
- “i’m sirius, love.”
- “y/n.” you didn’t look up
- “love sounds better.”
- you hated that you blushed, but you did
- you told yourself it was just some pickup line
- but he had genuine interest in you
- it showed every day
- he’d keep talking to you
- and you started to warm up to him more and more
- not only metaphorically, but physically
- his constant compliments made your stomach do jumping jacks
- remus sat behind you during all that time
- and was getting increasingly annoyed at the slow burn
- “you going to ask her out, mate, or are you sitting around waiting for someone else to?”
- “oh, piss off, moony”
- that made him nervous though
- and he started to notice the lingering gazes from some ravenclaw fellow in your class
- when he watched him graze your hand to reach a jar of dried bat wings, he was fed up he got jealous a little too easily
- when you came back with the jars of ingredients, he spoke immediately
- “what do you think about going out with me?”
- “pardon me?”
- “what would you think of you and me getting together?”
- “i think it would be nice”
- “good”
- “so are you asking me or not, wanker?”
- “well, yeah. i thought that was clear enough.”
slytherin!reader
- you knew who sirius was
- of course you knew who sirius was
- the blood trailer your house mates had shit talked into oblivion
- and while you weren't a believer that he was a blood traitor, you did believe he was complete and utter arse
- you'd been witness of him every day leaning against one of the doors to the great hall, with a different girl
- when quidditch season started up, you had joined the team
- and after an interaction on a training field, you had learned he was on his team as well
- it was a screaming match between your team captain and his
- you had to diffuse the situation
- “michael, come on, we still have time later. we don’t have a match for a few weeks. let it go.”
- you quite literally had to pull him away
- you made eye contact with sirius and james as you turned him away, and did your best to ignore the arrogant smirks that blanketed their thankfulness
- you saw him up close again at the match against gryffindor, standing across from each other and not breaking eye contact as the ref read out the rules
- once in the air, the game had been going swimmingly
- gryffindor - 7, slytherin - 10
- the game had traveled up farther in the sky with each point gained, the crowd could barely see you anymore with the amount of clouds
- it was a struggle in getting the quaffle
- “woah! guys, look out!” someone screamed
- you stopped your broom in its place and looked to see that everyone else had done the same, and you wondered what was going on
- you looked up, and saw somebody falling
- “holy shit, that’s sirius!” it was another gryffindor you couldn’t place
- no one was making any moves to save him, some continuing on with the game and snatching quaffles again— he kept falling
- “ah, bloody hell”
- you dropped the quaffle that had been tucked under your arm and quickened your broom’s pace as you dove down to catch him
- he was just beneath your grasp, your fingers barely touching his uniform
- when you finally got ahold of the fabric, he almost pulled you down with him
- you moved your grip to his forearm instead, and stopped your broom from diving down any further, or in just a few seconds you’d end up hitting the ground
- you were sure he’d be passed out
- but apparently not
- he brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand, then held onto the broom as he looked up
- “seems ive fallen for you, y/n.”
- “that is,,, absurdly lame, sirius.”
ravenclaw!reader
- it was through detention, of course
- you’d never noticed him because you’d been sleeping
- but he knew you
- or at least, he knew of you
- he thought you were so beautiful and he truly wondered how you kept getting into detention like this
- but he wasn’t complaining
- he rarely saw you outside of whatever classroom confined the two of you, so he knew what you were doing wasn’t as much of a spectacle as his pranks were
- could’ve been cheating, he considered
- but you were a ravenclaw, he figured it was doubtful
- sirius has never spoken a word to you, by the time he had reached detention each day you were already asleep. when it was time to leave, you were one of the first to escape
- until detention was held by professor binns
- he took wands, homework, any sources of happiness or busy work for the students to do
- including sleeping
- he wanted you to suffer in boring, magic-less silence with nothing to do but stare at the walls
- sirius was not having it
- when he got bored, he got really annoying
- he just kept asking questions
- “what’s the capital of the moon?”
- “do you reckon dumbledore keeps quills in his beard? as well as all the crumbs, of course.”
- it went on
- the continuous detentions was worth seeing you smile, even if it was beneath your hand
- you wondered if this was what you were missing out on all the times you slept
- when sirius wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him, taking in his features
- he had almost caught you
- james definitely caught you
- but didn’t say anything, just winked in your direction to let you know he knew
- when james didn’t show up one day, sirius was alone
- or would have been, if he hadn’t sat down next to you
- “so, what’re you in for?”
- “would you believe me if i told you filch doesn’t like it when his office is broken into for fireworks?”
- he leaned back in his chair, almost impressed “hm. impressive............... but-“
- there was a long pause, and he pulled himself up again and rested his elbow on the table as he looked at you
- “i know a place you can get them for free. hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
- mcgonagall’s shushing broke the conversation
- silence again, just for a moment before she looked down at her desk
- “i’d love to.”
hufflepuff!reader
- he had run into you on the courtyard
- or rather, spotted you
- yelling unintelligibly at someone
- which is not what he expected from a hufflepuff
- a crowd was formed around you, occasional flinches as your wand waved around
- he weaseled his way through the crowd with his mates with a smile on his face, ready to spot some action
- he spotted the back of your head, arms flailing wildly as you yelled at an annoyed, but taken aback, severus snape over his continuous racist and arrogant comments about everyone and everything in the world
- which just made it even better
- sirius was losing his mind
- he had to hold onto james and remus as he laughed
- with an off insult saying "your nose is more inflated than your ego" and the accidental wave of your wand, a white spark had come out of it
- the rooting and howls of laugher had stopped all around the formed circle
- james, peter, remus and sirius has stopped as well and froze where they stood
- severus looked beyond your shoulder in shock and a smile crawled up his face
- you turned around quickly, mouth drawn open when you realized you had cast something
- a boy with dark hair was behind you, hands over his face
- when he pulled them away, his eyes were crossed in awe as he looked down at his nose
- it was twisting and turning, as it grew bigger and bigger and took up more of his face
- severus was laughing now
- “shut it” you said quickly, a short wave of your arm his lips were gone and replaced with nothing but skin
- his shouts were muffled and ignored
- “oh, my merlin. i am so, so sorry-“
- he started to laugh
- so hard he had to close his eyes
- his friends laughed with him
- “you’re laughing? you alright? that spell didn’t get to your head, did it?”
- he looked at your face for the first time
- oh, merlin, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty
- he was not ready
- this beautiful girl so worried and pampering him
- “is that your nose or are you just happy to see her, mate?” peter whispered, trying to hold back his laughter
- james was quick to speak when sirius couldn’t find his voice
- “oi! i think he deserves an escort to madame pomfrey, yeah?”
- “yeah, he’s not looking too well!” remus chimed in
- you began to walk him to the nurse, trying your hardest not to stare down the elephant on his face in the room
- “i’m y/n.”
- “i’m sirius.”
- his voice was more nasal than usual
- madame pomfrey was annoyed more than anything, but the trip lasted no more than a few minutes before his nose was back to normal
- you looked at him
- he was cuter without an absurdly large nose
- it was easier to see how the light caught in his eyes now
- “i’m so sorry-“
- “don’t worry about it, love. make it up to me with a trip to hogsmeade?”
- you were caught incredibly off guard
- “yes, i mean, yes. of course.”
#sirius black#sirius black headcanon#sirius black x reader#sirius black one shot#reader x marauders#marauders x reader#marauders era#harry potter imagine#reader x sirius black
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Fake Smile
Chapter 3
Friday
“Now for the final fight of the night, We’ve got two outstanding ladies! Standing on the right side we’ve got MANNON OF THE BLACK BEAKS. And on the left we have AELIN THE FIRE BRINGER!” The announcer roared through the speakers.
Bouncing on her toes Aelin looked out to the audience. Mannon must have some kind of following because tonight’s tournament was abnormally crowded.
Kick boxing has always been Aelins escape, her little piece of sanity no matter how fucked up her life is, when she put on those gloves she was no longer Aelin. Even though it was her horrible foster father who forced her to have this physical outlet for his own gain in bets, she didn’t care, she loved it. Aelin loved the feeling of being completely submersed in the fight.
Staring at Mannon, Aelin let the killing calm consume her. As the bell rang.
Mannon striked first with right hand dead strait coming to Aelins face, Aelin dodged at the very last second and the hit whipped Aelins long braid. With Mannon leaving her right side open, Aelin flung her leg straight to Mannons rib cage causing her take a step back. Mannons face went into a feral smile and her left hook caught Aelin by surprise as it went across her face.
Aelin didn’t let the hurt show as she swung and the impact to Mannons right eye was glorious.
On the Fifth and last round, Aelin could feel her limbs start to shake lightly in protest, Mannon has been giving a good show and quit an equal fight, the winner could be either one at this point.
Mannon had just landed a harsh kick to Aelins stomach when the seconds were winding down, on sheer desperation of being hunched over with one hand gripping her stomach, Aelin punched upward, giving Mannon an uppercut that sent her to the ground.
The bell rang and the crowd went crazy, howling and stomping filled the gym.
Aelin didn’t even feel Dorians father grip her arm and throw it up in a victory stance.
“Well there you have it ladies and gentleman. The winner is AELIN THE FIRE BRINGER”
Stumbling out of the ring, Dorain caught her arm and put his face to her ear to whisper something that she didn’t hear at all, causing her to give him a quizzical look.
Dorian didn’t say anything else as he led her to the locker room, Aelin could have sworn she saw a familiar tall silver haired man in a hoodie, from the corner of her eye but she refused to think anything of it.
Entering the locker room Dorian laughed and said “What I was trying to say is, did you want to wait for me to get your winnings together tonight or come back in the morning?
“Well how long would I have to wait here tonight?” Aelin asked.
“Few hours. At latest I’ll be done by around 1 am” Dorian answered.
“Uhh no I’m starving” Aelin laughed as he ungloved her. “Plus its best I don’t walk around with money too late at night”
“Oh by the way, your win tonight is going to bring in a lot of popularity to the gym…. Apparently you just broke Mannons 13 running winning streak.” Dorain said as he exited of the locker room.
Aelin couldn’t help her smirk as she walked out of the gym and made her way to her favorite 50s diner around the corner.
Walking out of the gym, she heard shouting from behind her, trying her best to ignore it, Aelin increased her pace.
“Hey Bitch”
“Hey Bitch”
“You stupid little bitch, I’m talking to you”
Aelin started to sprint when a large hand gripped her arm and yanked her to the alley.
Aelins head was slammed to the brick wall as three men crowded her.
“Do you know how much money you cost me, bitch?”
Aelin started thrashing against the arms holding her back. She tried, she really did try to keep her mouth shut “Shouldn’t of bet on the wrong horse”
The man laughed low scratchy sound that sounded terrible. “Wrong horse? Mannon has been a sure thing for months. That last punch was illegal and you know that”
“The ref didn’t think so” Aelin answered.
“That’s just because your fucking his son sweet heart”
Aelin thrust her face forward connecting with his. He grunted as he yelled “You fire breathing bitch”.
He followed that with three punches to her face and one hard to her stomach.
Aelin started to whimper with pain and the man smiled.
“What? Can’t fight out of the ring with no gloves?” he said smugly.
“Well have your men let go of me and take me on like a real man” Aelin said through her teeth.
“No I don’t think so.”
Aelin didn’t see the following punch to her stomach.
She let her head hang low and he gripped her jaw up to look at him. At that Aelin spat all the blood that was pooling in her mouth, strait to his face.
One of the men holding her back lifted her up and slammed her to the payment.
Aelins air was knocked completely out of her.
Aelin heard footsteps and she turned her head slightly to see a tall figure running towards her, the man attacked the three men and she didn’t see or hear the rest.
………..
Earlier that day
“Mr. Whitethorn”
“Yes Remelle” Rowan said to his secutary, shifting his face from the computer to meet her eyes, Remelle seemed to blush slightly.
“Mauve is on line one, says its argent.”
“Thank you, Remelle” Rowan said as she left his office.
Rowan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly as he picked up the phone to his boss.
“Rowan, I need you to go to the other side of town and meet up with Rolfie, He’s thinking of pulling his investments and I need you to be…. convincing”
Rowan gritted his teeth as he said “Isn’t that Graviel or Vaughans job?”
“Yes but they are both out of town, Lorcan is a little too tough and Fenrys charm won’t work with Rolfie, he’s a little prickly in that way.” Mauve answered quick.
“Yes mam. I’ll be on my way”
Few hours later, Rowan was walking out of Rolfe’s office, infuriated at how long that negotiation took, he knew Mauve was selling him short by saying prickle.
Rowan was two minutes short of shoving his face to the table when he finally agreed.
Walking down the street, Rowan was trying to let his anger ease before he headed back to the office when something caught his attention
It was the girl. The girl from the French restaurant, her picture was in front of some small gym. Being promoted for some fighting competition tonight against a white haired woman.
Her face looked angry, angry enough to look years older which is why Rowan almost didn’t recognize her until he read “Aelin the fire bringer”. Rowan didn’t know why he laughed, maybe it was the fact that he realized he missed judged her, or because this poster did indeed surprise him.
That night, Rowan didn't know why he was at this gym. He didn't know why he decided against his better judgement to come to the competition. For some odd sick curiosity, Rowan needed to see the fire ball fight.
Standing in the corner in a black hoodie, Rowan tried his best to blend in with the men crowding the ring. He knew he would have to wait awhile before she fought because her being headliner meant she's the last fight of the night.
Finally he saw her bouncing in with a smile as people surrounded her walk to the ring.
Rowan watched as Aelin was on her toes waiting for the announcers to finished. He noticed that she was in a long sleeve dry fit shirt and shorts showing her long lean tan legs, compared to the white haired girl with a small sports bra and tiny shorts.
As the fight started, Rowan didn't realize he was indeed on his toes watching her every move as she twisted her body and swung, nimble as a cat as she dodged and struck.
Hes never seen people fight with such grace, even with his past in the marines, fighting was always rough but she.... she looked like she was dancing.
On the last round his nerves were high and his heart was beating fast as the seconds were winding down. He could tell the fight could go either way until Mannon struck hard to Aelins stomach. It almost felt like she struck him because he could feel the blow.
Next thing he knew Aelin struck upward and Mannon was on the floor. The Crowd went crazy around him as they crowned her victor.
As Aelin stumbled out of the ring, a man held her and Rowan could have sworn he kissed her cheek while leading her out of the gym. Rowan didn't want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy.
When Rowan was finally able to get out of the gym, he heard some commotion from the other side of the street, he wanted to ignore it, he wanted be on his way but the moment he heard a grunt and a body hit the floor, with blonde hair whipping in the air and hitting the ground he couldn't stop him self from running to her. He couldn't stop himself from flinging his body towards the men to get them off of her.
Authors note: Okay i really tried not to jump between scenes this time. I hope its better to read. Its my first time switching perspectives hopefully its understandable.
tags @flowersinvegas @shadowstar2313 @heir2chaos @heymichelle360 @aelinchocolatelover @captain-timetraveldreamer @nish247
#rowan whitethorn#aelin ashryver#rowaelin#rowanaelin#tog#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfiction#tog fanfic#throneofglass
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#13, PITCH
Rating: T
Tags: Soccer/Football, Outsider POV, Simon Snow, Baz Pitch, My OC Michael Torres, Fluff, Humor
Word count: 4685
Summary: Michael Torres loves football. His favorite team is Watford F.C. and his favorite player is a clever, speedy center defender. He meets a weird, curly-haired Watford fan at a Sunday match and it gets super mental from there.
Read on AO3
AN: This is the first time I've written anything since a lot of stuff in my life happened and I am just so happy to be posting again!! :D I wrote this after going to my favorite soccer team's game and just focused on making it fun. Alsooooo hAPPY BIRTHDAY BAZ!!!!
I'm dedicating it to my BEST friend Theo @bazypitchandsimonsnow because she encouraged me and gave me so much confidence and affirmation about my writing and stuff in my life and I just love her so much and literally it's all on her for being such an inspiration. Love you <3
Michael Torres loved football. More specifically, he loved Watford F.C., the Premier League football team of Hertfordshire, England. He loved everything about them. They were the Hornets, the Golden Boys, standing 8th in the league but quickly gathering speed as they swallowed up wins left and right. They were a team full of young, enthusiastic men with a certain insatiable hunger for victory and they were only getting better. Michael had been watching them play for as long as he could remember; recognizing their striking black and yellow and red colors before he even recognized his own name. Match days were considered to be religious events. Season tickets were a necessity. He owned at least three different jerseys in their classic black and yellow stripes, two different jerseys in their away colors of forest green, and various jerseys with the numbers and last names of all his favorite players. He was obsessed, utterly in love with his home football team of Watford.
At four o’clock today Watford would be playing against Manchester City, the number 1 rated team in the League. It was going to be one hell of a match.
***
“DROP BACK, ROLDAN. LOOK UP AND SEE CARSON, COME ON! HE’S OPEN, HE’S OPEN . . . NO! NO! YOU HAVE NUMBER 23 UP YOUR ARSE, LOOK LEFT AND SEE . . . WAIT! YES! BRILLIANT RECOVERY! NOW TAKE IT, TAKE IT, UP THE SIDELINES, YES YES! CROSS TO HENDERSON AND . . . NOOOOOO!” Michael yelled, sumping back into his blue stadium chair as he miserably watched Manchester’s star midfielder sweep in and steal the ball right from under Watford’s rookie right forward, Ben Roldan, dribbling for a moment before rearing back and sending the ball flying back towards Watford’s half of the field.
Michael sighed and took a sip from the soda he had bought before the match had started. All around him, a sea of people were waving yellow and black and red flags frantically, the Watford badge as well as the Manchester badge rippling in the late afternoon wind. People were shouting and cheering at the top of their lungs and the sun shone brightly on the field, stark white lines of paint marking the green grass and aligning perfectly with the two large goals on either end of the field. Popcorn was spilled all over the cement ground and fans were munching on pretzels and nachos. Kids were giggling with their faces sticky and pink from the large cones of candy floss they were shoving into their mouths. There had to be at least twenty-thousand people filling the slightly uncomfortable stadium seats, maybe more, and there was a thrumming, tangible sort of energy hanging in the air that everyone appeared to be feeling.
It was about thirty minutes into the first half and Manchester was up 2 to 1, but Watford wasn’t far behind. They had been pushing the ball into Manchester’s half and taking more shots on goal, and Watford’s fans could feel the determination and perseverance rolling off of their players in waves. It was a strong match so far and Watford had been mostly attacking--that made sense since they had such an unstoppable team of forwards, but unfortunately Manchester wasn’t one to stay on the defense for very long.
Manchester’s up-and-coming forward, Number 42, was now streaking down the middle of the field, weaving through Watford’s midfielders and almost getting close enough for a scoring shot when a flash of black and yellow sprinted towards the attacking forward and neatly pulled away the ball in one smooth motion. The crowd of Watford fans were up on their feet in an instant screaming and cheering with all their might--Michael being one of them--as Watford’s wicked center defender, Basil Pitch, took two long strides up the sidelines and then delivered a devastating kick to the ball. It sailed over the heads of Manchester’s forwards and midfielders and completed its arc right above Jordy Benson, Watford’s left forward. Benson jumped up and trapped the ball with his chest, letting it roll to his feet and settle for a quarter of second before tapping the ball in front of him and taking off towards Manchester’s goal.
The crowd absolutely exploded as Benson lined up for the shot and then slammed the ball in the direction of the goal, everyone cheering and shouting as loudly as they could. Manchester’s goalie had adopted a wide stance and was shuffling back and forth as the ball came barreling towards him, and then made a spectacular dive a second later. The ball hit the goalie’s stomach and the goalie instantly curled around it, falling to the ground having successfully blocked the shot. Watford’s fans all groaned in disappointment but commented to one another that it had been an excellent save, even though Benson’s shot didn’t make it in.
Michael sat back down as the Manchester goalie threw the ball to his closest teammate and the back and forth between Manchester defenders and Watford forwards resumed, the ball being quickly passed and bounced from player to player.
Michael wasn’t happy about the missed shot, sure, but mostly he was still reeling from how skillfully Pitch had recovered the ball, at how Pitch had basically handed the ball to Benson in order for the shot to be made. It was unreal.
Michael looked down proudly at the black and yellow jersey he was wearing, feeling confident in the name and number that was on his back in white, block letters. ‘PITCH’ was curved across Michael’s shoulder blades and a large ‘13’ sat directly underneath it. He had bought the jersey after the first game of the season, after Pitch had made so many saves and recoveries for his team that Michael didn’t even think the ball or any of the opposing team’s players got anywhere near Watford’s goal.
They were about halfway through the season and Pitch had been continuously defending the everloving fuck out of Watford’s goal, catching the attention of not only the public and die hard football fans, but the other teams and players in the league as well. He was a force to be bloody reckoned with.
A burst of noise from the crowd around him and movement on the field took Michael back to his feet as he watched Pitch sprinting up the field, his long legs pumping furiously as he darted in and out of Manchester’s forwards, the ball dancing between his black cleats and a Manchester midfielder practically on his arse. The midfielder shoved himself up against Pitch’s shoulder, driving him towards the sidelines, but Pitch resisted, somehow managing to keep his speed and position despite the extra force working against him. The midfielder tried again and again to throw Pitch off but nothing was making him budge.
Michael cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “STAY ON HIM, PITCH. DON’T LET UP ON THE WANKER!”
The fans around him were shouting out similar comments and Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the two of them.
The midfielder seemed to be getting frustrated, and once again he reared back and slammed himself into Pitch. Or tried to, at least. At the very last minute, Pitch slid the ball behind him and gracefully stepped backwards, the midfielder missing him completely and falling roughly to the ground at Pitch’s feet. The crowd roared in approval, Michael pumping his fist in the air when suddenly he heard the shrill tweet of a whistle being blown, and anger rushed through him. A side referee was holding up the small, red and yellow checkered flag towards the sky, indicating a free kick.
The crowd exploded into yells and jeers.
“OI, WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, REF? WHAT’S THE FUCKING CALL?”
“NO! NO! WHAT A BLOODY TERRIBLE CALL. PITCH DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THE GIT HE JUST STEPPED BACK! THE GIT WAS PUSHING!”
“YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBARSE WHAT’S THE GODDAMN CALL? THAT WASN’T A BLOODY FOUL.”
A second later the announcer explained the call.
“Due to tripping and unnecessary roughness from number 13, a free kick will be awarded to Manchester.”
“BOOOOO,” Michael yelled, his face furrowed in frustration. “THAT WASN’T BLOODY FUCKING TRIPPING! ‘UNNECESSARY ROUGHNESS’ MY ARSE, PITCH WASN’T EVEN--”
But Michael was cut off by a much louder, more aggressive shout.
“OI, REF, GET OFF YOUR BLOODY KNEES AND STOP BLOWING THE MATCH! THAT WASN’T A FOUL AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!”
Michael snorted and looked to his left at the seat next to him, noticing a bloke around his age yelling at the field, his face bright red. The bloke looked over and Michael nodded back in agreement.
“The ref IS blowing the bloody match! Pitch didn’t even touch the dumbfuck, let alone TRIP him!” Michael exclaimed, shaking his head as he glanced back at the field, watching Manchester set up for their free kick.
“Christ, I know!” The bloke responded, throwing up his hands and groaning. “I swear to shit, it’s like these refs are TRYING to make the worst possible calls they can. They’ve been at it all season. It’s fucking mental out there.”
Michael nodded again and both of them looked out at the field in disgust as the free kick landed the ball right in front of Manchester’s star midfielder.
About two minutes later, another shrill whistle blow sounded, this time signaling the end of the first half. The players all exited the field through their respective corners and Michael and the bloke sat down next to him. The bloke then turned to Michael and extended his hand.
“Hey mate, I’m Simon. Nice to meet you.”
Michael clasped Simon’s hand and shook it. “Same here. I’m Michael.”
Simon smiled warmly at him and then turned his head distractedly at the sound of a woman’s voice shouting about the snacks and drinks she was selling from the tray she carried, and he quickly hailed her over and bought a large bag of kettle corn, a pretzel, and a bottle of soda.
Michael looked at him as he began to eat. Simon had a mess of curls on top of his head, loads of freckles and moles dotted all over his face and neck, and plain blue eyes. He was shoving handfuls of popcorn into his mouth at a fantastic rate and seemed quite unbothered by the many kernels that had escaped his grasp and were now gathering in his lap. But what really drew Michael’s attention was the jacket Simon was wearing. It was a black zip-up athletic jacket, the words “The Watford Hornets” written on the back in yellow lettering, and the red and yellow Watford badge on the front in the corner. Michael had seen the jacket being worn before, but only by the players, and usually during the colder months when the players needed something to cover up with before matches. Michael wondered where Simon had got it from. Maybe the team shop had started selling them and he just didn’t know about it yet? He doubted it; Michael knew everything the shop sold since he owned most of it himself.
“Hey, uh, Simon, where’d you get that coat, mate? Team shop?”
Simon looked down at the jacket and smiled, his cheeks turning slightly red as his eyes glittered.
“It’s my boyfriend’s. He gave it to me to wear for the match today,” Simon said fondly, rubbing his thumb over the sleeve.
“Oh nice,” Michael responded, noting that Simon still hadn’t answered his question as to where the jacket came from and was about to ask him again when Simon abruptly got up. He was clutching his phone with a huge grin on his face and then practically sprinted down the cement aisle, his hand flying over the metal railing. Michael watched as he stumbled over the last four steps and simply jumped straight to the ground. He then melted into the crowd of people who were getting up to go to the bathroom and to get food before the second half started.
Huh.
Michael didn’t really know what someone could possibly do for less than fifteen minutes during the halftime of a football match that would be exciting enough to literally fall down the stairs for but hey, more power to the bloke.
Michael already had his drink and he wasn’t really hungry so he was content to just sitting in his seat and watching other fans mill about. The goal posts were casting long shadows down the field as the sun began to slip from the sky, and the huge lights along the edges of the stadium clicked on, flooding the stands and the field with brightness as everything outside darkened.
When there were only about four minutes left until the second half, the players made their way back onto the field, stretching and getting set up in their positions, only now they were on the opposite side of the field they had started the match on. Michael briefly scanned Watford’s half and noticed that the center defender spot was strangely empty. A second later, Pitch could be seen jogging out from the sidelines and into position, his shoulder-length inky black hair flying around loosely for a moment before he seemed to realize it wasn’t tied in his usual low ponytail. Weird, Michael thought, as Pitch quickly tied his hair back up and began to stretch.
And even weirder still, Simon collapsed into the stadium seat next to Michael’s a minute later, completely out of breath, his face and neck a startling shade of scarlet. Michael couldn’t really tell if Simon’s curls had gotten neater or more messed up since the last time he had seen them, but they definitely looked different.
“Alright, mate?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrows at Simon’s completely disheveled state.
Simon looked at him in surprise, almost as if he had forgotten Michael was there at all. “Oh, er, yeah I’m fine. Just wanted to make sure I was back in time for the start of the match, is all.”
“Ah, well, not to worry. You made it with two minutes to spare.”
Simon nodded at him happily and then sank lower in his seat, rubbing his hands on his face as he exhaled loudly, his breaths quickly turning into low laughs. What a weird bloke.
Michael leaned forward to grab his drink from the cup holder in front of him when Simon gasped excitedly, smiling at him when he sat back up.
“Your jersey! Are you a Pitch fan?”
Michael looked at Simon as if he had just asked Michael if he liked breathing air. Was he a Pitch fan. The more appropriate question would be to ask who wasn’t a Pitch fan.
“Of course I am. He’s only the most brilliant defender of all the F.C.’s in England and the U.K.!”
Simon looked pleasantly amused. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh, yeah! He’s in the best season of his entire career and has one of the strongest defense records in League history! He plays every match like it’s his last and he never backs down from an opponent. He’s agile, ruthless, and shit, he’s fucking fast. What, are you a Pitch fan?”
Simon looked at him and promptly burst out laughing but Michael didn’t see what was so funny. When he calmed down, his huge grin had shrunk to a small smile in the corner of his mouth. Sort of . . . smirk-ish.
“Me, a Pitch fan? You could say that. He’s alright, I guess. Seems like a bit of a prick to me.”
Simon then turned his head to stare at the field with a soft expression on his face.
Michael spluttered, “A . . . a prick? Isn’t a bit rude of you to call him a prick? I mean, you don’t even know him.”
Simon laughed again. “I dunno; I think it’s the hair. Awfully pretentious, all black and silky and shit. And don’t even talk to me about that bloody ponytail he always puts it in. Makes him look like a git if you ask me.”
Michael didn’t know quite how to respond to that.
“And would you look at that face? Like he’s ten seconds away from biting you or cursing you out in front of your mum? That’s the face of a prick right there.”
Michael looked at Simon, dumbfounded, but Simon just kept on smiling and gazing out at the field as if his comments were completely meaningless. Coming out of his mouth the insults sounded mostly truthful, but that whole effect was kind of shattered when Simon looked like he was about to rest his hand against his cheek and sigh dreamily to himself. Michael thought that Simon was possibly a bit bonkers. Nice, of course, but still bonkers.
Just then a whistle was blown and Michael looked at the field in time to see Roldan start the kick-off. The ball was directly passed to Benson who in turn sent it spiraling towards Watford’s right midfielder, Terrance Kelly. Kelly quickly leaped up and slammed his forehead against the ball, sending it flying all the way back to Watford’s defensive line. Pitch quickly stepped up and settled the ball instantly with one of his thighs, peeled around a straggling Manchester forward, and then sped away up the sideline until he had a clear shot to one of his teammates.
For the next twenty minutes, Michael and Simon and all of the other Watford fans watched eagerly as forwards Roldan and Benson made multiple shots on Manchester’s goal, the crowd screaming their bloody heads off once one of the shots finally made it into the goal.
Everyone cheered and yelled as Pitch made another few spectacular recoveries and blocks, slick as an oil spill, and even though the bloke obviously seemed to have mixed feelings about the brilliant defender, Simon was always, always, the one cheering the loudest.
As the end of the second half drew nearer, another weird thing happened. One of the bigger blokes of Manchester’s forwards was charging through the defensive line on the way to Watford’s goal, Pitch sprinted towards him, prepared to smoothly slide the ball away from the forward and get it back to up his attacking teammates. However, when Pitch was in the process of stealing the ball, the forward shifted into a lower position and dug his shoulder into Pitch’s chest, shoving him back and causing him to fall to the ground at an odd angle.
Simon was the first one to jump to his feet, worry and concern etched into his twisted expression. His fists were clenched and his eyes were locked onto the spot where Pitch was lying on the green field. After another moment, Pitch visibly sat up and grabbed the hand of a nearby teammate, quickly standing and then brushing the grass off of his black shorts and football socks. Then, once everyone had shifted back into position, Pitch gave a brief thumbs up towards Michael’s side of the crowd, and Simon exhaled and sat back down.
Seriously, Michael just did not get Simon. At all. But at least Pitch was alright. Michael had to admit, it could have been a pretty nasty fall. Watford was incredibly lucky that their best defender wasn’t actually injured.
***
The match was two minutes from ending, Manchester and Watford tied 2 to 2, and Benson had made another shot on goal and missed, the ball hitting the crossbar and bouncing back into the chaos of defenders and forwards. The crowd was losing their goddamn minds as the ball flew from player to player, people screaming to clear it out of the penalty box, to make the shot, to block the ball, to pass it out of bounds. Everyone seemed to think that the command they shouted at the field was the one that should be followed.
But no one expected the ball to go rogue.
No one expected the ball to be kicked out of the cluster of players scrambling to make a play. And certainly no one expected a clever, speedy defender to take two steps, leap into the air, and slam his head into the spinning, spiraling ball.
Everyone watched in complete shock and surprise, Michael in utter joy, as the ball made its fantastic arc over the defenders of Manchester and the forwards of Watford, and then brushed over the Manchester’s goalie’s outstretched hands, the goalie’s fingers just a centimeter away. And then the ball punched deep into the net of the goal as the stadium erupted into total pandemonium.
Michael’s throat felt raw from screaming and his face felt as if it was about to split in two as he smiled.
It was insane. It was incredible. It was bloody fucking mental.
Basil Pitch, number 13, center defender, scored a winning goal in the last thirty seconds of the match against the number 1 rated team in the Premier League, with his fucking head.
It was a sight for the gods.
Michael felt as if history was being written right in front of his eyes. And he had been right there to see it.
Michael turned to Simon, a feeling of euphoria in his veins, to see Simon looking as if he was about to cry. Of course, his smile was so big Michael was afraid it was going to consume his whole face, but his blue eyes were wet, and his cheeks were crimson.
Michael watched Simon’s lips move, unable to hear what he was saying due to the deafening volume of the Watford fans around them, and then Simon threw himself out into the cement aisle, clutching onto the railing as he half-fell half-sprinted down the stairs, his curls bouncing wildly.
“Alright, bye!” Michael called after Simon, waving as though his best mate was leaving. He was just so happy . . .
Simon whipped right back around, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“Oh, uh, wait! Wait! I, uh, I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but, uh, you’re really nice! And cool! And, uh, I have to go like, right now otherwise I’m going to die but, uh, I want to properly say goodbye! And you can meet my boyfriend! You would like him! Meet me down on the first level of the stadium, by the elevators! See you! ” Simon yelled, speaking so quickly Michael could barely understand him. And when Michael finally processed what Simon had said so he could politely decline, Simon was long gone. Fuck.
Michael sat back down in his slightly uncomfortable stadium chair and exhaled loudly, laughing shakily as he held his head in his hands. This had to be the best, weirdest, most fucking mental Watford F.C. match he had ever attended in his entire life. It felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. And now, after this huge, godly win, he was supposed to go meet some random stranger’s boyfriend? Fucking hell.
Then again, Michael figured he might as well go because how could things get any better or weirder than they already were? Plus, Michael could ask Simon’s boyfriend where he got that Watford athletic jacket! He really did want one of those jackets . . .
Michael resolutely decided to stay behind an extra twenty minutes. He waited until the crowds had mostly dispersed from the stands since there was always a flood of people trying to leave the stadium after matches ended. Michael got a refill on his soda, drank it, and browsed the team shop. The jacket definitely wasn’t in there. Now he was really curious as to where the jacket came from. He glanced at his phone and figured he had given Simon about twenty minutes.
Michael took the elevator down to the first level of the stadium and stepped out, looking around for Simon and his boyfriend. There was a coffee shop a few feet away and another couple places to get snacks, but no sign of the weird, curly haired bloke and his boyfriend.
Michael was about to get back into the elevator and go home, figuring Simon had just forgotten in his excitement, but then he heard a low sound coming from around the corner near the elevators, and stepped around to see what was there.
Oh fuck no.
Michael could tell it was Simon because Simon’s back was turned to him, and Michael recognized the jacket and the hair. But Simon wasn’t alone. There was one pale arm wrapped around Simon’s waist and one around his neck. Michael could see that two long legs were between Simon’s, and the sounds Michael had heard were . . . moans.
Michael cringed and averted his eyes to the ground, not wanting to disturb or invade their private moment more than he already had. He started to walk back around the corner, but something caught his eye. A pair of sleek, black cleats, attached to the legs between Simon’s.Cleats. Michael couldn’t help himself, he looked up farther and saw black football socks, shin guards, and a pair of black shorts. Michael looked to the side and spied a flash of black and yellow. The jacket, the comments, the weird looks on Simon's face during the match; they all made sense now to him now.
Simon’s boyfriend was a Watford football player.
Michael gasped loudly and then instantly cursed himself as Simon and his boyfriend quickly turned around, embarrassed at being caught and--
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Oh motherfucking bloody hell.
Simon gave Michael a small smile, blush high on his cheeks.
“Oh, hey! Hey, Michael. Glad you could, uh, make it. This is my boyfrien--”
“Basil Pitch,” Michael choked out, his face flushed.
Simon’s boyfriend wasn’t just a Watford football player he was . . . he was Basil Pitch. Number 13. Pitch. The brilliant center defender of Watford F.C.
So . . . yeah. Basil Pitch was in front of him. Still in his uniform. His hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face. His arm tightly wrapped around Simon’s waist.
The air was out of Michael’s lungs. Oh look, his stomach was on the floor. Just normal, regular things.
Pitch laughed coolly.
Michael stared, his eyes most likely obnoxiously wide, as Basil Pitch stepped up to him and offered Michael his hand.
“Well, you obviously already know me. But I haven’t had the pleasure. Your name is Michael?”
“Yes,” Michael squeaked as he put his shaking hand into Pitch’s and shook it. His hand was smooth and a little cold. It was definitely the best thing that had ever happened to him in his entire life.
Pitch smirked. “Nice to meet you, Michael. Thank you for keeping an eye on this bloody prat while I was busy scoring goals.”
Simon rounded on Pitch and pretended to be angry, kissing his cheek viciously as he growled. “Oh shut the fuck up, Baz, you pretentious arsehole. Michael was being cool and you don’t have to be a git every time I make a new friend.”
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”
Michael then cleared his throat because he was a little terrified of the wicked way Pitch was looking at Simon and also of the way that Simon was moving his hands up Pitch’s chest . . . yeah he definitely needed to leave.
“So, uh I’m, uh, just gonna go . . .”
“Oh, sorry, Michael!” Simon exclaimed, quickly taking his hands off of Pitch and opting to hold his hand instead. “Uh, sometimes we forget--” he elbowed Pitch in the side and Pitch snapped his teeth at Simon “--where we are and we get a little carried away. So we’re gonna have to cut this a little short. But do you wanna come to our flat for dinner sometime? We can make it up to you!”
Michael blanched, “Oh, that’s okay, I--”
“Here!” Simon dug into his pocket, grabbed his phone, tapped it a few times, and then thrust it at Michael. “Put your number in.”
Michael took the phone and then gave it back a minute later. He did not remember actually typing in his number but he must have because Simon smiled at him, Pitch smirked, and they both waved goodbye, their arms around each other as they walked away.
And then Michael fainted.
(Just an fyi, Watford F.C. is an actual team in the Premier League and I could not pass up the opportunity of making Baz play for a team called Watford, I mean come on. So he's not playing for the school, he's playing for the Premier League team. All of the other players mentioned are either names I made up or names I pulled from other soccer players but then changed either the first or the last name)
#raegan writes a story#carry on fanfiction#simon snow#baz pitch#snowbaz#fluff#soccer#football#fanfiction#fic recs
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unbroken [ii.] ✧ bucky barnes
warnings / language, 1940's bucky, fist fight.
word count / 4.1k
(gif is not mine, credit to the owner)
masterlist in bio
↴
⠀⠀⠀⠀PHILIP WINSLOW. That's who the administrators were pitting her against. He was an extremely large man, towering over nearly every person in the room by at least a foot, and his muscles were no small feat, either. His head was hairless, glistening, and the size of a basketball and his body was bulging, covered in a slimy layer of sweat and protruding veins, and when he clenched his fists, it was like he was arming himself with two cinderblocks.
The man was a built like a brick shithouse.
It didn't help that the man was a legend amongst her bootleg fighting community, considering he'd rarely lost a match since he started in the ring.
Y/N sucked in a deep breath as Winslow squared himself up in front of her, growing impossibly taller and glaring down at her with crazed, bloodshot eyes. She balled her bare fists up at her sides, having abandoned the gauze wrap the moment her sweat had soaked through it, and she could feel her nails starting to dig into the flesh of her palm. She exhaled slowly and shook the tension out of her shoulders, squatting down slightly and getting into her fighting stance.
"To beat a bigger guy," Steve shouted down to her, his voice carrying well through the nearly empty room as he bounced on his feet in front of Bucky with his boxing-glove-clad hands readied in front of him. Bucky cracked his neck and began to step a clockwise circle around the small blonde, but Steve remained facing him at all times. "All you have to do is be faster than they are," he instructed and Bucky threw a punch at his head, but Steve ducked beneath his hand, striking him in the abdomen instead.
Y/N had asked Steve to teach her how to fight only hours before, knowing he'd had plenty of experience, despite the outcomes not all being as positive as he'd liked. Of course, he'd agreed in a heartbeat, and Bucky had insisted on joining in, so they snuck into the gym after hours, getting the ring all to themselves.
She shook her head as she watched her two favorite boys up in the boxing ring, a quiet laugh bubbling from her lips as Bucky grunted at the impact, and they turned to her with pearly white smiles tugged on their lips "But they'll still be stronger," she protested, crossing her arms over her chest. "What if my blows don't do anything? What if I'm just weak?" She asked, swallowing thickly and letting her gaze flutter between the two of them. "Speed means nothing if it's strength that I don't have."
Bucky's shoulders rose and fell as he expelled a sigh from his lungs, bringing his wrists to his mouth so he could undo the ties on his gloves with his teeth and slide them off of his hands. Steve did the same and the two of them stepped over to the ropes that railed them in, leaning their weight against it and looking down at her. "Do you remember the night that you were locking up the diner and I was supposed to meet you outside to walk you home?" Steve asked.
She shot him a look and nodded her head slowly. "Yeah, you were late, so I figured I'd just start walking and run into you eventually," she admitted and they both smiled uncomfortably at the memory—and at the way that Bucky was glaring between the two of them, a slightly peeved that he was hearing the story for the first time. "I bumped into some creepy guy instead and he tried to take my tips for that day," she continued.
Bucky's eyebrows knitted together and he turned towards Steve. "Dude," he growled, anger bubbling up inside of him because that was the one night that he hadn't been able to walk her himself. "Did you let her get mugged?"
Steve chuckled nervously and he shook his head. "No, just let me finish, Buck," he pleaded lightly and looked between his two best friends. "Y/N, when I got there, you had him lying on the ground in a fetal position and he was twice your size. You're not weak," he explained, dropping his boxing gloves out of the ring.
She felt her lips curl upwards slightly at the proud looks that inhabited both of their faces and she tried to ignore them. "But what if, you guys? What if they're just that huge of a person and I'm completely helpless?" She asked.
Steve shrugged his shoulders, because he usually just took the beating anyways and kept getting back up. "You wear 'em out," Bucky offered, stepping up to the plate where Steve couldn't. "Those big guys—they're powerful at first, but they can't stay on their feet forever. You've just gotta dance around them a little bit, get them to chase you around until they're tired, and then, hit 'em," he paused, punching the air for emphasis. "Don't stop hitting 'em, either. You throw punch after punch and kick after kick. Get as many licks in as you can until they catch their breath and repeat the process," he elaborated.
"Do you think I could try it on you, Bucky?" She asked hesitantly, relief flooding through her body when he grinned at her and nodded his head.
The memory played in Y/N's mind like it had happened the day before instead of months prior and it instilled a sense of confidence inside of her, because she knew how to beat him. She knew that she could beat him.
It didn't matter if he was some sort of fighting god or not, she could beat Winslow.
The referee, who was sweating through his black-and-white striped shirt, looked between them. "Only two rules," the man explained, even though they were already well-known amongst the two fighters. "If you use anything but what's a part of your body, you forfeit. The same goes if you slip outside of the ring. Other than that, anything goes." The ref held his hand between the two of them and placed his whistle between his lips, counting the five seconds off on his fingers.
Five.
Despite the pep talk she'd given herself and the flashback of Steve and Bucky teaching her how to fight, uncertainty was pooling inside of her body and eating away at her.
Four.
Her limbs were trembling as she shifted her weight, staring into Winslow's onyx eyes and burning up at the fury that she was met with.
Three.
Winslow's chapped lips pulled wide in a grimace as he let out a throaty growl like a dog, baring his crooked, yellow teeth, and he scrunched up his improperly healed broken nose.
All the confidence she'd had disappeared.
She couldn't do it.
Two.
She didn't know why, but she thought of Bucky. She thought of how his lips had pecked hers on her way out of the door, the way he'd beamed at her, and the overwhelming warmth in his eyes.
Win tonight, okay?
His voice echoed in her head.
Bucky believed in her.
All of his faith was in her, so she knew she must be special because he didn't give that away too often anymore.
One.
She put all of her worries aside, because she could do it.
She knew she could do it.
Bucky knew she could do it.
And then, the whistle blew.
Winslow was the first to strike, his huge left arm hurling his big fucking fist at her face, but she leaned back in the nick of time and let it pass over her body. She aimed a swift kick for his stomach, landing it successfully, and he stumbled back. She swelled with pride at her attack, but when the bull screeched and steam whistled from his ears and nostrils, fear settled in. The beefcake radiated anger, charging at her with his arms extended, but she was quick to slide beneath his arm and end up on the other side of him. She watched him dig his heels into the ground to keep from barreling our of the ring and he turned around towards her.
Y/N decided to try and be bold, letting him get a little closer to her so she could stomp on his toes. Unfortunately, that did absolutely nothing and his fist drew back, shooting for her again like a bullet, and there was a thwack when it collided with the side of her head. A wave of pain shot through her body, the punch sending her mind reeling, and the impact sent her flying to the ground. She rolled once before she stopped herself, hazily peeking up just in time to see the giant lumbering over to her once more.
Bucky, with his choppy brown hair choppily trimmed and gelled back lazily because his mother was no longer around to help him keep up with his appearance, ran over to Y/N at lightspeed, or at least that was what it seemed like to her nine-year-old self. She could see the worry on his face even through the sweltering tears in her eyes.
"Hey, hey," he cooed, crouching down on his knees in the mud, even though he knew his dad would kill him if he ruined another pair of uniform pants, but he didn't care. She sniffled and a shaking sob left her body when she saw Bucky leaning over her, his beautiful blue eyes swirling with concern as he looked down at her. "Y/N/N, you've gotta sit up, okay?" He whispered, his soft, ten-year-old hands brushing over her cheek as he tucked tendrils of her soaking hair behind her ear the best he could.
She let out another wail, her chest shuddering and her lips trembling. "I-I can't, Buck," she choked out between cries, her eyes squeezing shut to try and hold back her tears, and all she could feel were his hands on her face.
His fingers were wet from the droplets of water and his thumbs were rubbing a mix of rain and tears over her cheeks, but she still felt the comfort all the same. "But your new dress," he whispered, moving one of his hands to tug at the strap of pale yellow on her arm. "You're ruining your dress," he emphasized, his voice so gentle as he spoke to her. "You gotta stand up."
He was so different around her than he was with the other kids, even different from the way he was with Steve. With anyone else, he was rather defensive and hotheaded, quick to start a fight or stand up to someone who threatened something he believed in, especially recently, with all the pent up anger he had from his mother's death.
With Steve, he was calmer. He laughed more and he allowed himself to be a bit more vulnerable, but with Y/N, it was like he was a different person entirely.
With her, he was the happy kid he'd always been on the inside, his smile always lit up whatever room he happened to be in, and he let his guard down completely. He wasn't afraid to laugh with her, cry around her, or confide in her. When Bucky was with her, he felt like he could just be Bucky, not the big brother or the class clown, and she was the one person who accepted that wholeheartedly.
"It's already ruined, Bucky, didn't you see them do it?" She whimpered, sniffling as her sobs died down, and she opened her eyes to look at him again. Bucky had seen them do it. It being the moment when Dolores and her right hand witches had trapped Y/N between themselves, so they could laugh at her. "She shoved me in the mud," she whispered.
The brunette frowned down at her. "I know she did, but, now, you're just layin' there, Y/N/N," he explained, pulling his hands away from her face and holding them out for her to take. "Whatever they said to you was a lie, I'm sure," he offered in an attempt to make her feel better, but she only shook her head up at him.
Y/N rejected his outstretched hands, pushing them away from herself and shifting her eyes to look somewhere amongst the grey storm clouds. "It wasn't a lie," she huffed, her bottom lip trembling again so she bit it down until the knot in her throat subsided. "They told me I wasn't good enough to be friends with someone so smart and handsome like you," she admitted and his heart sank down to his feet because she'd actually believed them. "I don't deserve to be your friend, Bucky. You're way too sweet and strong and I'm just a crybaby who can't even stand up for herself," she muttered, throwing her arms up in the air for emphasis and letting them splash down into the mud.
It splattered all over the front of her dress, Bucky's nice, white button-down, and his uniform coat, but he didn't mind. "That's crazy talk," he protested, shaking his head down at her. "You're the smartest, kindest, and most beautiful girl that I know, you understand me?" He asked and she sputtered our a bitter laugh. "I mean it, Y/N, you're a treasure and I'm glad to call you my friend," he reassured her and she looked over at him, her face puffy and red as she did.
"You mean it, James?" She asked, her voice small and uncertain, and she propped herself up on her elbows.
A grin spread across his features as she did and he nodded his head profusely. "I mean it, doll," he told her. "Now, let's get you out of the mud, yeah?" He suggested, holding his hands out for again and she took them that time. He smiled at the feeling of her small hands in his and he pulled her to her feet. "Your mom's gonna hate me if I bring you home like this, you know. Do you want to come to my house and borrow some of Rebecca's clothes? We can call your mom when we get there," he offered her.
Y/N shook her head softly at him and she smiled, his kindness spreading an unidentifiable warmth throughout her chest. "It's okay," she reassured him, looking down at her dirt-caked stockings and soiled heels. "I just wanna go home," she confessed.
"Of course." Bucky flashed her an understanding smile and, even though it was soaked through and through with rainwater, he took his blazer off of his shoulders, laying it over hers instead. "I'll walk you."
She could see the flashes of their primary school selves as she laid on the ground, groaning at the ringing in her ears and the throbbing in her head. She could hear little Bucky in her head, telling her she had to stand up, and she could see Winslow stepping towards her and the ground was nearly quaking beneath him.
Y/N pushed herself up and got to her feet, her chest heaving as she tried to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. "Give up now, girl," he bellowed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.
She shook her head, running a circle around him and watching as his body turned to follow hers. She kept running circles around him, waiting for him to get used to the motion before she quickly switched up and ran the opposite way. While he stood stunned, she took the opportunity to deliver a kick to the crook of his legs. Taken by surprise, Winslow was brought to his knees. Y/N's stomach flipped, because she didn't think that was going to work.
Get as many licks in as you can until they catch their breath, Bucky's voice echoed inside of her head.
While he was distracted she punched him twice with as much strength that she could muster up: once on the side of his body, on the tender area beneath his rib cage and once in the center of his shoulder blades. He was grunting at her hits, obviously feeling them based on the places she aimed for, but he made a quick recovery, swiveling around to sweep her legs out from under her with his arm.
She gasped at his sudden movement, letting out a cry of pain when her back slammed against the hard ground. His giant hands wrapped around the back of her knees as he stood up, pulling her closer to him so it'd hurt all the more when he kicked the side of her body. His foot jammed into her side and she yelped like a hurt puppy. He drew his foot back, ready to kick her again, but she reached upwards and squeezed the spot between his legs as hard as she could. It seemed to do the trick, because he yowled in agony and released her legs, giving her the chance to get to her feet but nothing more.
Before she could move, his bulky hand was pressed against her sternum, moving her backwards towards the edge of the arena. His lips were drawn in a smug smirk, his confidence posing off of him as he used only a fraction of his strength to slide her backwards. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that violence is no woman's job?" Winslow asked bitterly and Y/N glanced over her shoulder at the edge of the arena. It was growing closer and closer by the second, the dust on the floor sliding beneath her feet as he pushed her nearer to the edge. She racked her brain for every possibly solution to the problem that she could think of, but she came up blank. She was still sliding towards the white line, her attempts to push back all going to waste because she wasn't strong enough to shove him away.
You're not weak.
Steve's voice resounded inside of her head, bouncing of the walls of her mind, and she whimpered as she continued to try and move him back with some sort of strength she knew that she didn't have, her teeth clenching as she did, and then it clicked.
"I've never been one to listen to my mother," she confessed, before she found enough power in herself to lift his hand off of her chest and bring it to her mouth instead. She sank her teeth into the skin of his hand, clamping down as hard as she could because this was her last option. Winslow howled in pain, stumbling backwards as he tried to pull his hand from her mouth and bringing her with him. She released his dirty hand from her mouth, but she held onto his elbow for dear life with her arms, using it to propel herself around the back of him and slam her knees and all her body weight into the center of his shoulder blades. The man grunted at the impact and he stumbled onto his knees.
Y/N rode her wave of adrenaline, drawing herself back and charging for him once again. The force of her body knocked him forwards. Winslow landed face first on the ground, a disgusting crunch sounding as something cracked beneath him, and Y/N went down with him, her body landing on top of his. She could hear him grumbling in discomfort at the least and she knew his head had to be spinning so she needed to act fast.
She brought his arms upwards from his sides and hooked her arm around his elbows, holding them against her chest, and her free hand pressed his head as hard as she could get it against the ground. One of her legs held her body steady by resting on the floor while her other leg was burying her knee in his back.
She had him pinned and all she had to do now, was hold him there.
She could see the referee run to their sides, kneeling down on the ground as he oversaw her attempt to keep him held down. The crowd around her was screaming at the top of their lungs, but the pumping of her heart sounded much louder. Winslow struggled beneath her, trying to overpower her, but her position on top of him made it difficult. A few seconds passed, but that was all she needed, and the referee's whistle sounded once more. Her hold released on the Goliath wannabe and she rolled off of his back, scrambling to her feet.
She could hear her blood rushing in her ears as the ref grabbed ahold of her wrist, pulling it up to the air in his hand and leading a congratulatory cheer for her.
She won.
And Winslow did not look happy about it.
Water trickled from the rusting faucet in the dingy, co-ed bathroom, which was used by the fighters and the audience alike. Y/N had her hands positioned on either side of the chipped, porcelain sink, holding herself up at she stared at her roughed up reflection. Smears of dust from where she'd been dragged through the film of dirt on the cold floor peppered her body, the side of her face and the center of her chest were bright red from Winslow's attacks, and pieces of her hair were sticking out in all directions.
She shook her head at her disheveled appearance and she cupped her hands beneath the cold water. She leaned down and splashed it over her face, nearly sighing out loud as the coolness of the water eased what felt like the burning on her skin. She threw another handful of water against her face, rubbing her hands over her cheeks to scrub away the filth, before she shut off the faucet and grabbed a couple of paper towels to dry off with.
In the middle of Y/N dabbing her face with the paper towels, there was a knock in the empty doorway.
The bathroom door had been taken off the hinges a long time ago, since it had been basically worn to shit, so there wasn't really any privacy if you weren't inside a stall.
She glanced up from what she was doing and crushed the paper towels in her hands into a ball. "You decent?" A deep, yet familiar voice called.
She cracked a small smile at that and she chucked the dripping wad of tissue she was holding onto the trash. "Well, it's a pretty public bathroom," she explained, turning around to face the entrance. "It'd be weird if I wasn't," she added.
The person chuckled at her reply, before stepping onto the cracking tiled floor and revealing himself.
It was the referee, in all of his wild-haired and sweat-soaked glory.
"You'd he surprised at what I've walked into in this place," he countered, only half serious as he made his way over to her. The quirks of his eyebrows as he'd said it hinted that it was nothing classy and that was all she needed to know, if not too much in itself. "I was just coming to drop off your earnings." He extended his hand, holding out a small, Manila envelope for her to take.
She glanced at the envelope and took it with a timid smile. "Thanks," she told him, flipping the tiny package between her fingertips, running her fingers over the paper and examining it before she looked back up at him.
The ref nodded. "Yeah, no problem. You earned it, kid," he told her. "See you tomorrow night." He spared her a crooked, close-mouthed smile and then he turned on his heels, heading back out into the chaos to regulate the next match.
"Yeah," Y/N whispered, even though he was already gone. "See you tomorrow," she spoke out to nobody, only the walls of the bathroom, which were littered with scrawls of colorful vandalism and pieces of peeling wallpaper.
She looked down at her envelope again, prying up the metal prong so she could open it. Her fingers slipped into the yellow package, pulling out a thin stack of bills. She flipped through the money with her thumb, adding it up in her head as she did.
Two-hundred and fifty dollars.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she closed the envelope and sealed the money inside once again.
She couldn't wait to tell Bucky. She knew he would be proud of her, like he always was.
↴
author's note / thanks for reading! if some of you want to tell me what you're thinking of this mini series or if you have any questions about it, send them my way.
also, sorry, my links are messed up and idk why, so i can’t link my masterlist or the next parts in here without it hiding my fic from search results i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes x reader#james barnes#james barnes imagines#james barnes x reader#james buchanan barnes#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagines#captain america#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier imagines#the winter soldier#captain america imagines#captain america x reader
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