#'Two very competitive teams. Two very competitive managers.'

[hubba1892]

Pre- and post-match hugs

[gor3-hound]

FUCK YOU !! (AND, UH, FUCK HER TOO) — LOGAN HOWLETT + SCOTT SUMMERS

ft. scott summers x f!reader x logan howlett

a/n: deadpool and wolverine full throttled me back into my x-men era... rewatched the first two movies and binge wrote this over the course of three hours... it's pure, shameless smut with slightly gay undertones idk what to tell you... reader is basically in place of jean!!

cw: 18+ content, double penetration, almost cucking, cheating, reader is scott's girlfriend, logan is an asshole, competitive sex?? fighting, clawsTM, biting, marking, mild possessive behavior, p in v, mild scent kink, assholery all round tbh, creampies, threesome. gay crisis for a second x

word count: 2.3k words

Scott is starting to think Logan likes his things way too much. First, it was the way he looked at you when he was first brought to the school, eyes raking over your form. Scott wasn't blind – the visor didn't impair his vision that much. He remembers walking into the room when the both of you were alone. He could sense the tension between the two of you before his presence was even made known to you.

It wasn't until a while later he'd figured out Logan probably smelt him coming. Cocky bastard probably wanted to be caught.

Then, it was his motorcycle. His very own pride and joy. Returned with an empty tank, his keys tossed to him like it was nothing. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his visor as he chucked the keys back to Logan. He barely managed to reign in his irritation.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott had told him to do so after that comment, despite having the faith in you that you'd be able to avoid Logan's charms. He was clearly wrong. Logan didn't seem like the type to have much respect, but this was just taking the piss.

“Been meaning to test if these beams could pulverise Adamantium.”

All he gets in reply is a shit eating grin from Logan as he pulls away from the heated kiss Scott had walked in on, his hands still gripping your waist. You really had the audacity to get all wide-eyes and shocked, like you weren't just about to fuck Logan with your ass perched on Scott's bike.

“Shit. Scott, I'm-”

“Sorry?” He cuts off, gaze very clearly still trained on Logan despite the way his shades conceal his line of vision. “Yeah. Save it.”

“Thought I could smell that shitty hair gel.” Logan huffs, bringing his head down to nip and suck at your neck, adding to the wide array of marks he's already left. And you fucking let him, tilting your head back and gasping like it's the best thing you've ever felt. Scott's gonna kill you, then Logan, then quite possibly himself. “How long’s it take you to get that done in the mornin’ anyway, pretty boy?”

“Right. Says the guy with kitty ears?” Scott bites back, taking a few steps towards the both of you. “I'm gonna give you about three seconds to get away from my girl and my bike before we see how good your healing factor really is.”

Logan fucking laughs, kissing his way up your neck and along your jaw so he can whisper into your ear, breath hot against your skin. “Stay put for me, yeah? Shouldn't take long, sweetheart.”

He pushes away from the bike, turning around to face Scott. Cocks his head to the side like a damn dog, rolling his shoulders as his claws shoot out from his knuckles. “Don't make me embarrass you in front of your girl, Cy-clops.”

Scott fucking hates that, hates the way he drags out his name as if it's stupider than Wolverine. Hates everything about Logan, if he's being honest. Hates how easily the man manages to get under his skin every single time.

“You're such a fucking asshole, y'know that?” Scott squares up, trying his best not to hurl a beam directly at Logan with the hopes he'd be able to send him flying through the garage wall. He's meant to be a team player. Level-headed. He's not sure how the older man always reduces him to this.

“That really hurts my feelings, bub. I thought we were a team.” Logan stalks closer, and Scott's vaguely aware you've gotten up, ready to break up a fight that never comes. Claws sink into the drywall beside his head at the same time he hears you tell Logan to ‘stop’. His back hits the wall, and then the asshole leans down, lips brushing his ear just like he had to yours moments prior.

“Y'know, I can smell the changes in your scent when you're pissed, happy... Can also smell it when you're turned on.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply just to tease the man further. “So either you're really into you're girl gettin’ passed around, or you wanna fuck me. Shit, or both. Which is it, pretty boy?”

“I don't want you to fuck my girl, Logan.” Scott grits put. His looks literally can kill, and he's becoming increasingly tempted to prove that to the other man. “And I definitely don't wanna fuck you.”

“C'mere, baby.” Logan coos, gaze flicking to you. He tuts when Scott goes to move, pressing his body against his to prevent him from getting too far. “Ah-ah. Stay there, pretty boy.”

You're at Logan’s side in a second, peering up at him through your lashes like an obedient dog waiting for its next command. Shit makes Scott's blood boil, his body going rigid against the other man's.

“D'you wanna kiss me, sweetheart?” He asks you, cocking his head to the side with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. And you fucking nod, like your boyfriend isn't right there staring at you. “D'you think he wants a kiss from me, too, sweetheart? Think he deserves it? Can't have been treatin’ you right if you came runnin’ to me, huh? Maybe I should teach him?”

“Yeah, think he needs it. He's always so stressed, never wants to do anything.” Now you're airing out your relationship issues? Fucking great. Scott's practically seething now, lips parting to say something – anything – to defend himself.

He doesn't get the chance before Logan's lips crash against his. He tenses up, ready for a fight. His hands come up to push the man away, but fuck he's a good kisser. It's a lot different from a girl – rougher. There's a drag of his stubble, a pleasant burn that comes from it. His teeth sink into Scott's lower lip before tugging, then he's forcing his tongue into his mouth. Scott ends up dragging him closer, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses back.

A growl rises in Scott's throat when he hears you giggle at his reaction, but he doesn't have much time to think on it, ‘cause Logan laughs all breathy and hot into his mouth, and it's making him short circuit. The growl quickly transforms into a low whine, his lips chasing after the other man when he starts to pull back.

His eyes open just in time to watch as Logan grabs you by your hair to pull you into a needy kiss, his free hand grasping at your hip to grind you against his rapidly hardening length. Scott feels his own cock twitching to life at the sight, a breathless ‘fuck’ leaving his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his jeans. He hasn't been this hard in months – maybe ever. He feels like a horny teenager again, leaking pre-cum steadily into the fabric of his boxers. He isn't sure what to think of it. Humiliating, is what it is.

Logan's lips are on his again, his hands sliding under his shirt, tugging him closer. He feels his cock pressing against the hard ridges of Logan's muscles, feels your own hands join his in exploring Scott's skin, your lips pressing kisses along his neck and jaw.

“Relax, Scott.” You say, as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Relax, yeah. His dick is rubbing against another man's for the first time while his girlfriend is reaching around him to unbutton his jeans, and you want him to relax. This is a totally normal scenario that isn't throwing him head first into an identity crisis.

He gets lost in the hands on his body, the lips against his skin. Before he knows it, the three of you are naked and panting and pressed against each other. Scott feels like he can't breathe properly. His eyes dart between your body, and the fattest dick he's ever seen in his life. He doesn't know if he should be turned on or really, really insecure. His cock answers by jumping against his abdomen and leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum. Traitor.

Logan grunts as he lifts you up almost effortlessly, his arms resting at the back of your knees, using them as makeshift slings to hold you up against his chest, which is flush to your back. He quirks an eyebrow as Scott just stares, unmoving. “Well? You don't need me to tell you where to put your dick, do you? No wonder she's so pent up.”

“Asshole.” Scott says simply in response, stepping towards you. His words lack any real bite – he's too turned on to even think about being pissy. He fists his length leisurely a few times before lining up with your entrance, pushing forward inch by inch until his hips are flush with the backs of your thighs, your legs dangling helplessly at his sides.

You gasp and whine as Logan moves to slide in alongside your boyfriend, nails digging into his skin until Logan is buried to the hilt inside of you. Scott instantly peppers the skin of your neck with kisses, trying to soothe you.

“You alright, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet. He's forgotten why he was mad at you in the first place, mind foggy with arousal as your cunt clenches around him.

“She's fine, bub. She can take it. Isn't that right, sweet thing.” Another whine, then a nod. It eases Scott, if only slightly, when he feels you relaxing against them. A beat passes, and then another. His eyes meet Logan’s and they both start to move – slowly, at first, before picking up the pace.

You're so much tighter like this, sucking him in desperately as he tries to find a rhythm with Logan. He can barely focus in anything but your heat and the way his cock ruts against Logan's as they both fuck into you. It's almost maddeningly hot, and he's feeling overwhelmingly anxious that he's going to cum in an embarrassingly short amount of time.

Scott leans down, his lips meeting yours as he rocks forward over and over. His lashes flutter as he sucks on your tongue, kissing you greedily. He feels a hand tugging at his hair, pulling him away from you before sharp teeth start to nip at his lower lip, a tongue bullying his way into his mouth. He sucks on Logan's, too, kissing him back just as hungrily as he did to you. He rubs soothing circles into your hips as he picks up the pace, coaxing you into relaxing further.

A growl rumbles Logan's chest when he feels Scott fucking you faster, his hips snapping against the fat of your thighs with more intensity, like he's determined to fuck you better than the other man. He's bigger, tip bullying your cervix with every thrust in a way that makes you tear up. His nose twitches as he smells the saltiness of your tears, then he's pulling away from Scott to lap them off of your face.

“Shhh, shh… you can take it, sweetheart. I know you can.” He coos softly, moving to nuzzle the crook of your neck, nose running along the skin like he's scenting you. Both men continue to slide in and out of your slick heat, grunting and groaning like animals as they chase their release.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your boyfriend coos. Scott needs you to cum soon, because he's barely holding on as it is. He doesn't want to leave you unsatisfied – especially now he's very aware Logan will gladly pick up his slack. His hand falls from your hip to make its way between your legs, thumb rubbing circles into your clit until your muscles grow taut. He grins, sucking a possessive mark over one of the hickies Logan had left earlier. Take that, asshole.

Your walls flutter and clench around both cocks as you reach your peak, a shaky moan of Scott's name leaving your lips as your head falls back against Logan's shoulder. Check and mate.

“Hear that, kitty claws? I'm still her favourite.” He huffs out, hands returning to your hips in an almost bruising grip as he ruts helplessly inside your tight heat, balls tightening as his orgasm rapidly approaches.

“S'only ‘cause she's lookin’ at ya, dumbass.” Really, it shouldn't be Logan's gruff, fucked-out tone that drives him over the edge, but it is. He blows his load a second later, forehead dropping against the crook of your neck as he fills you with spurts of hot, white liquid. He gasps against your skin, nails digging into your plush flesh.

Logan isn't far behind, grunting as he forces every inch of his cock deep inside of you, head tipping back as he releases. The tips of his claws threaten to breach the skin of his knuckles, but he manages to suppress them enough that they never fully unsheathe. He pants softly, chest heaving as he thrusts shallowly through his orgasm.

“Fuck.” He hisses, slowly pulling out of you. He lifts you off of Scott's cock, settling you down on the seat of the motorcycle so you can all catch your breath. Logan rubs soothing circles into your back as Scott steps forward, all but slumping against you as he embraces you.

“Did so good, baby. Was perfect.” He breathes out, pressing kisses along your bare shoulder. He pulls back just enough to look at Logan, who's already lighting up a cigar. “The fuck did that even come from?”

That shit-eating grin lights up the older man's face again as he takes a few short draws from the cigar in his mouth. He exhales the smoke, pulling it out of his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, pretty boy. You really don't wanna know.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Cass has a Nemesis

So! Cass has a Nemesis.

An Enemy that has taken all her skill and grace to defeat in the past, undefeatable by any of her peers, someone only she can defeat-

-In Ballet.

Cass has a Nemesis, named Danny Fenton. He is in a rival Ballet School, and she has only barely managed to defeat him in the past. She is awed at times by his grace and skill at the art, it is almost as if he can defy gravity itself, while looking entirely natural.

He is as good as her, and she has literally been trained as an Assasin since she was born.

In every Ballet Competition she has been in, it always comes down to the two of them. And she will not waver for even a second.

Aka

Danny and Cass are in rival Ballet school and are the aces of both teams. Danny is so good because he has the natural balancing instincts of a Ghost, and can apply that very easily to Ballet.

Eventually Danny/Cass cause that's my favorite Dpxdc ship

[percyluvr]

Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?

luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885

Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.

When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.

You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.

You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.

"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.

"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.

The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.

On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.

As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.

You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.

Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.

He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.

Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.

"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.

You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.

"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.

At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.

"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."

"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.

You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Future III

Alexia Putellas x Daughter!Reader

Summary: You spend time with Mami

"You know," You say, resting against the bench," Just because I'm now free from my job doesn't mean that I enjoy coming to yours. I'm not six."

Alexia laughs at your teasing, lightly slapping your legs to move so she can sit down too.

You sit up, adjusting your sunglasses on your face as you move.

"You love it really."

You roll your eyes, not that Alexia can tell but you're grinning too and she bumps her shoulders against yours.

Mami's been retired from football for a while now, a player turned manager of Barcelona's women's team. She's on a quest to get as many titles as manager as she did as a player.

Which is why you're here now, at a Champion's League semi-final. It's the second leg with Barcelona already up three nil against Chelsea.

You're not too worried but your Mami is. She knows how quickly a match can change.

It just takes one moment for it all to go to shit.

Mami's a bit intense like that.

It's probably one of the reasons you prefer ballet to sports. There's no competition when you're actually performing. There's some competition for parts behind the scenes but once you're on stage, there is no foul play.

Everyone is trying to do their very best for the crowd.

You couldn't even imagine what it would be like to compete against another ballet company at the same time.

Football has always been a bit too intense for you. It was Mami's passion, even now.

"You're too stressed," You say," Take a day off."

Alexia laughs at you, teasingly ruffling your hair. "Funny," She says," I distinctly remember telling you that a few weeks ago. What was it you said to me? No chance!"

You laugh with her. "Hey! I never said I practiced what I preached!"

"Neither did I!"

It's nice being here with Mami.

Olga's in Madrid with a client and Jaume's on a trip with his school so it's just the two of you in the house right now.

"The girls will be fine," You say dismissively," You're ready. It's only Chelsea."

"Only Chelsea," Alexia repeats with an eye roll," You've not been watching any of their games recently."

You blow her a kiss. "You know I only watch football when you're around, Mami. I'm not Jaume."

Jaume watches football as often as he can, glued to the screen. If he's not watching then he's playing. His dirty football boots lay all over the house.

It's a little annoying, especially when he jumps onto your bed still wearing them.

But you do miss him, annoying as your brother is.

The stadium slowly fills up with fans as you and Alexia sit on the bench together.

You think you and Mami are more similar now that you've grown up. You've always been like her subtly. Her drive and her passion and her ambition.

But you look more like her now.

You've grown into her features, your nose, the curve of your lips, your eyes.

You grin as she pulls you up, grasping your hand tightly as she guides you back inside.

You've got a break for a few weeks before you're back with the company. It's a welcome break, one where you can go back to eating normally and feeling like the world is crushing you.

It's a brutal cycle but one every ballerina goes through.

It's hard and it's horrible but it's what you sacrifice on the altar of ballet.

This break is nice though.

You've got a trip to Mallorca coming up during it where you can just soak up the sun and the sand and whatever fruity drinks you can be bothered to buy.

Just you and the crystal waters.

"Hey," You say to Alexia," I'm going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want something?"

"I shouldn't..."

You see through her excuses though, waiting her out.

"Just a drink. Sugar free, Bambi!"

"I know!"

You know the stadium like the back of your hand, weaving through the halls to the vending machine you know stocks the best chocolate bars you've ever eaten.

Mami used to buy them for you and Jaume when you were little and the match was over. She used to walk all the way to the rival's end of stadium, still in her kit and boots with you and Jaume following after her like little ducklings.

She didn't even care that the opposing players would stare. She would walk straight up to the vending machine in front of their changing room to get you your favourite chocolate and Jaume his favourite drink.

You could do the walk in your sleep.

Someone's already there though, staring through the glass at it.

It's one of the Chelsea girls.

You vaguely recognise her, one of the older players on the team. You're pretty sure she plays for England too but you're not quite sure because you only watch matches when Mami's around.

"Sorry," You say. You're English is rusty from years of not using it apart from in school. "Are you-?"

"Oh! No, sorry."

You nod in thanks, punching in your choices before paying.

You grab your chocolate and Mami's drink.

She's pretty, this older woman. Exactly your type. If you'd met in the club, you'd probably try to entice her closer but you're at Mami's workplace so you don't.

"I'm not sure what to choose," She says," What do you recommend?"

"The chocolate," You say, waving your choice," The crisps are always stale. Don't get them."

She nods. "Noted."

You go to leave but she still calls after you.

"Hey, can I have your number?"

You lay your cards in the table immediately. "I'm not looking for a relationship," You tell her," I...I'm just not..."

She shrugs. "Can I have your number anyway?"

"You don't mind?"

"I just got out of a relationship. I'm not looking for another one. But you're fit and you give good snack recommendations."

You study her. "I'm y/n."

"Aggie. So...is that a yes?"

"Sure."

When you make your way back to Mami, the Barcelona girls are already warming up.

"You took a while," She says, gratefully taking her drink and pressing a soft kiss to your crown.

"I stopped at the toilets," You reply.

She nods. "Are you still okay with staying down here instead of going to the box?"

"As long as you don't yell at me if it goes wrong then yeah."

"I'd never yell at you," Alexia says," I've been told that having you down here actually makes me calmer."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever." You look down at your phone in your hand. "Hey, remember when you worried about me going to Mallorca by myself?"

Alexia frowns at the change of subject but nods. "Yes. I still am worried, if that's what you're checking."

"You don't need to be," You say," I've got someone coming to stay with me now."

Sun, sand, sea and sex.

The best way for you to spend your break from ballet.

[cvnt4him]

— ˗ˋ ୨ tobio kageyama w a crush ୧ ˊ˗ —

Tobio wouldn't realize he has a crush on you, he's so emotionally constipated and angry all the time he has a hard time realizing things other than like anger [for hinata when he messes up CONSTANTLY.]

Tsukishima would literally constantly tease him saying things like "has the king finally found a lowly queen to keep up with his bidding?" Kageyama would be so confused like "wdym?"

It takes tobio a while to actually realize his feelings, afterwards he couldn't even come to terms w them the thought of having a girlfriend actually frightened him.

Kageyama is very competitive, always battling Hinata at anything there is to do, so once he realizes he likes you he unintentionally shifts that part of him to you.

Tobio starts challenging you to EVERYTHING everyone notices and is like "wtf?" Even you yourself was kind of confused but who were you to back down.

This mf is absolute shite at video games like he sucks tremendously. Everyone laughs at him as you constantly beat him in every game there is.

As a manager you are technically obligated to help out everyone on the team including those you might not like not that you dislike any of them but kageyama sure does.

He sees you helping tsukishima out and giving him his water bottle, a towel whatever he needs. Kageyama has never been more pissed off in his life.

Once they switch positions and kageyama is up front near the net with Tanaka and tsukishima in a blocking position he whispers to tsukishima;

"what's your deal with y/n."

"excuse me, what are you even talking about.."

Tobio assumed tsukishima was playing coy purposely so get a reaction out of him, if that was what tsukishima was playing at he successfully got it.

Tobio would not shut up about how he should "stay away from you" and how "you don't want a twiggy ass nobody like him."

Tsukishima simply laughed and teased him which involuntarily led to them getting into it, tobio was a flustered red mess trying his hardest to lunge at tsukishima while Tanaka held him back.

Kageyama found himself mindlessly watching you, whether it be at lunch, in class, or spacing out during practice. You were clouding his thoughts and it pissed him off.

Tobio finally had the guts to walk up to you and give you a piece of his mind. He told you how it was pissing him off that your face made his cheeks warm up.

You just stared at him and batted your lashes up to him before giggling and patting his shoulder with no words.

Kageyama felt a lot of emotions that he'd never felt before.. he felt embarrassed and flustered and just so befuddled it fucked with him for the rest of the practice.

You eventually caught tobio before he split from the rest of the group a meatbun stuffing his cheeks, he turned to you with wide eyed and a blush painting his chubby and puffed out cheeks.

"walk me home?"

"oh- s- sure."

You two waved goodbye to the rest of the team some of them making kissy noises as the two of you walked away kageyama turned around flustered and angry, yelling at them to shut up.

You two stayed completely silent the entire walk to your house tobio occasionally glanced down at you, trying to find words to speak but only for every word to get caught in his throat when he opened his mouth.

"This was fun. We should do it again."

You say turning to face him before you headed off to your home. He flipped and nodded aggressively with a stuttery 'mhm!' leaving him. Tobio was so adorable you just couldn't believe this guy was actually willing to walk you home, no questions asked.

"..soo, id better turn i— "

"I L- --ove... you."

Kageyama stuttered on his words, choking and forcing out his hard to explain feelings for you. He didn't know exactly how he felt but once he spoke with suga and he told kageyama that he might just have a crush, he might've taken his crush the wrong way, mistaking it for love in your eyes.

You'd be lying if you'd said this wasn't adorable. He was adorable, this emotionally constipated volleyball obsessed tsundere actually had feelings. And for you, nonetheless. It was hard to describe what you felt but you wouldn't lie and say you didn't think he was attractive.

You hummed at his statement and walked towards him, he stared at you with wide eyes and he shivered and shakes in his boots. He doesn't know what to do, he just stands there stuff and shaky as you walk up to him and look up at him, those big wide blue eyes staring down at your adorable face.

You kissed his cheek lightly, he didn't know how to react, he just blinked a couple of times and thanked you awkwardly making you laugh abruptly. He scokded himsekf in his mind calling himself lame and shit but you were quick to shut everuthing down when you pulled him into a kiss.

It was quick stiff and awkward. Tobio was never one to care about love or even have crushes but one day you just showed up and took him by surprise he was always flustered around you and couldn't explain why. He didn't know what he was doing but this felt right to him. He was happy.

You pulled away and gently slapped his cheek before telling him goodnight. He stood there for a moment before turning into a flustered red mess, like Hinata whenever a pretty girl even came close to him.

AN: I am obsessing over kageyama rn gang and sugawara so like I might be shifting over to haikyuu while I find a way to cope w mha ending. The HQ fandom is dead but hopefully you hoes wake up when you read this wack ass shit, n trust my loves I got more in the workshop🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

[corkinavoid]

A list of things I've done that pissed my mother off, but as Batfam + Team Phantom edition

Bruce: got into a verbal fight and held a year-long grudge at my teacher for not giving me a fair grade at an annual competition, and proceeded to go out of my way to win said competition next year

Alfred: refused to eat her food, got told to cook for myself and did so, ending up with both my dad and sister saying my banana bread was the best thing they've eaten

Dick: swung on the bungee rope over the dry riverbed turned into junk yard, fell, miraculously did not die, went to that same bungee rope the next day

Babs: organized a stake out, found out which neighbor had been messing with trash bins when everyone blamed raccoons, called said neighbor a raccoon for the next three weeks

Jason: kept reading books at night with a flashlight, when said flashlight was taken away, lit a candle and accidentally almost set the house on fire

Tim: fled to a different country across the globe without telling anyone except my sister, who's been 7 at the time, and did not respond to any calls or messages for three months

Steph: picked a dress with glitter for a dinner with her relatives after specifically being told not to, was forced to change, but took my revenge by exploding a glitter bomb in the car when we have already arrived at the relatives' house

Cass: responded with 'sorry I didn't quite catch that could you repeat' to her very long rant, over text

Damian: successfully clawed and gnawed at a classmate's face after they destroyed my painting

Duke: was the leader of school rebellion over the 'no wigs allowed in school' rule in sixth grade, managed to convince two teachers to join, ended up with the rule taken down

Danny: accidentally shocked myself with a tazer I stole from her handbag, cried, when she came to ask what happened, showed her by repeating the accidental electrocution

Dan: pushed my maternal aunt into the pool and watched her flounder, knowing very well she is a bad swimmer, when confronted about it later argued it was the kiddie part of the pool and she could not have drowned

Jazz: told her I was in love with a girl she disliked, when she voiced her opinion on it, made a whole argument about how I'm supposed to learn from my own mistakes and not from her experiences

Dani: zoned out while she was yelling at me, came back to her saying 'you're no better than a pig', impulsively told her 'it's because of genetics' and started oinking

Sam: painted my nails and toes on my left hand and left foot black, dyed my hair purple, but only on the left side, as well as got a piercing on the left eyebrow, while the whole right side was left 'natural'

Tucker: learned to change the wi-fi password and held power over the internet every time she took my electronics away by asking a friend that lived nearby to come by my house and using their phone to change the password

Bonus:

Selina: repeatedly stolen antique jewelry from grandma because she, in turn, stole it from my other grandma

Valerie: turned rogue, teamed up with the opponent team in lasertag and helped them win over my own teammates

Talia: threatened a person I will carve their eyeballs out with a spoon if they ever as much as look at my sister funny again, a month later gave them a decorated silver teaspoon as a birthday gift

Jack Fenton: failed my driving license test seven times, three of which were on purpose

Maddie: ruined her plans of my picture-perfect marriage by friendzoning a son of her friend, claiming I'm saving my love only for the important things like mozzarella

Vlad: scared my sister shitless by telling her a scary story about ghosts under her bed and then hiding under her bed and making 'boo' noizes

Clockwork: purposefully made her experience deja vu by wearing the exact same clothes and greeting her the exact same way in the exact same place for three days in a row

[delusional-day-dreamer]

paige x olympian gymnast hcs!

‣ paige bueckers x olympic gymnast reader!

‣‣ synopsis: gymnastics has always been your entire life, and your dedication truly paid off when you made team usa for the 2016 rio olympics, but what happens after your injury while in the running for the 2020 tokyo olympics? #uneditedfornow

‣‣‣ a/n: just a few headcannons i have in mind for this story, if i were to make this a full blown series it MIGHT be a wattpad story with an oc or just a full tumblr series because of how long it would be... 👀

your life leading up to and including the 2016 rio olympics:

you've been doing gymnastics since you were three years old

at the age of thirteen your parents switched you to online school so you could train full time, but during this process it set you back a year, making your graduation year 2020 (same as Paige)

at the age of just fifteen you qualified for the rio olympics (meaning you were born in 2001)

your roommate that year was simone biles, and you competed at the olympics, taking home two golds (all around team and beam) and one silver (beam).

following the olympics, you became very popular for your skill at such a young age, leading you to signing many brand deals, sponsorships, photoshoots, etc.

it just so happens that your popularity reaches a certain basketball player, miss paige bueckers. in her slam interview in 2019, when asked about an athlete she admires outside of basketball, she says you. you have no idea who she is, but dm her regardless thanking her for her kind words. this is the only interaction you two have until uconn.

you continued online school for the rest of highschool, and throughout the next three years you received thirty recruitment offers out of the sixty-two schools that had a women's college gymnastics team.

your dream school had always been the University of Connecticut, but their gymnastics team didn't impress you throughout the recruitment process.

your graduation year is 2020, which happens to be the same year you got injured, right before choosing a college to commit to.

injury-related; 2020-2021:

in february of 2020, you got into a car crash while driving home from a late night practice.

you tore your left acl, dislocated your right shoulder, fractured your left collarbone, had a concussion, and suffered a left femoral fracture (ouchies i know)

thankfully you were mostly okay, but the accident completely put you out of the running for the 2020 (now moved to 2021 due to the pandemic) olympics, and doctors told you it would take at least two years to fully rehabilitate before you could even beginning training for competitions again.

your left leg had quite a few complications with the acl tear and the femoral fracture, and you had four surgeries in total on the leg.

during this time, you decided that since you couldn't compete in gymnastics, you might as well commit to the college of your student-life dreams, the university of connecticut.

UConn Era!!:

you commit to uconn for your undergrad in the sports management program, since you couldn't compete, you still wanted to remain in the athletic world.

your freshman year classes (2020-2021) was fully online due to your injuries and the pandemic, but it just so happens that you're placed as an intern with the women's basketball team for your sports management program.

you meet the team before the school year starts, and it just so happens that paige bueckers has remained a huge fan of yours.

the only reason the team recognized you immediately before you were even introduced is because of how much she has fangirled over you

you get your own apartment at uconn due to the program and your status (okay olympic privilege), which meant the team loved to hang out at your giant, well-furnished place.

you become extremely close with the team, and your first two years of rehabilitation seem to go well. it also happens that in your sophomore year, your best friend paige also fractures her meniscus, so the two of you are the resident cripples of the team!

paige has always had a huge fangirl crush on you, but over the years of you being friends, it seems those feelings develop into a little bit more...

one night while you were having a sleepover with her during her acl recovery she confesses, and the two of you start dating on the very down low

during your junior year is also when you are fully cleared to start re-training and you start getting back into gymnastics with a new coach (idk who yet!)

while balancing school and your duties with the wbb team, you start to train only four days a week, slowly getting back old skills on all four events.

you start competing in the 2023-24 season (i believe that’s how it’s measured?) and qualify for the 2024 olympics at the 2024 Xfinity U.S Gymnastics Championship

it’s safe to say your girlfriend and the entire wbb team were your biggest supporters apart from your family

Actual Olympics:

i can see you being roommates with Hezley Rivera, since she reminds you so much of yourself and you’re able to form a connection because of that.

Paige is unfortunately not able to make it to the first half of the Olympics, but she is your biggest supporter from home, constantly posting and hyping you up.

While competing, you definitely wear jewelry that she gifted you for good luck, and your hair has two braids going up into your bun, just to keep a piece of your girl close to you. Maybe even a purple ribbon braided into your hair at some point?

You also definitely took half of her closet of hoodies with you so that you could wear them and have her scent with you at night

the entire uconn wbb team, both current and players from your earlier college years, show support for you on social media, but paige’s is a little.. different than theirs

while all the girls post you on their stories or tweeting about you as, so proud of our husky 💙🐺, that’s my our uconn girly!!, etc. Paige’s are a little more special, hinting at your relationship, ex: so proud of my girl 🫶🫶

there were rumors about you and paige circulating since your freshman year, but you never bothered addressing them, and this only fueled them further.

You definitely text Paige as much as possible during meal times, facetiming at night, sending selfies all the time, etc.

The other girls definitely make fun of you if they overhear you on the phone with her, mocking you since you call each other baby as a term of endearment. They also make a tiktok cut together of a bunch of clips, basically every single time you were texting or atp with paige. the tiktok has over 50 clips!

“can you pass me that y/n?” suni asked you

“yea sure, here” you passed her the makeup brush

“thanks, baby,” she teased, making you blush

After the olympic athlete who ran straight to his girlfriend after breaking the Olympic record, I can definitely see Paige flying out to surprise you for a week or so in Paris.

Her flying out to come visit is when you guys actually hard launch, posting pictures of you at dinner with the captions, “my girl is finally here” or “yk i had to come cheer my girl on in person”

a/n: this is #uneditedfornow but that’s all i have for now yall! idk when i’m gonna make this a series but i have so many ideas for it i just might have to, but i also have two other unfinished series rn so… 😓😓

[makingqueerhistory]

I feel reasonably certain you're the one to ask, but if not, i hope you can point me in the right direction.

A while back, you put up a quote from someone about realising their queer identity being akin to wanting to quietly change train carriages. That particular idea has stuck with me, and I wanted to find the exact quote so I could remember it properly. Do you know who it was that said it, and in what context?

I know exactly what you are talking about! The quote you're thinking of is:

"I confess that I am one of those passengers that Fate put in the wrong train. Should I have caused an alarm? I chose the second, quieter way: I applied for a rewrite of the ticket.”

Which was said by Zdeněk Koubek, who was an olympic athlete!

Here is a snippet from our article about him:

"Koubek was born December 8, 1913, in Paskov, Czechia (Now the Czech Republic). Growing up with eight siblings in a poor Catholic household, he was an active child and very fond of athletics. His family moved to Brno while Koubek was still a child, and there he became interested in track and field. With very little formal training, he managed to reach peak performance. He had a decent education and considered becoming a clerk, but chose to dedicate himself to sports. Due to his outstanding performance at 17, he moved to Prague and joined the Prague University team, also working part-time as an instructor and coach. In 1932, at the age of 19, he broke his first national record and shortly after set five more. He won two medals in the Women’s World Games in London in 1934 and set two world records. It was at this point, due to his excellent performance and his gender-non-conforming nature, that rumours started circulating. Newspapers pointed out his “masculine” behaviours. Following this, there was an anonymous request for Koubek to be examined by Olympic-sanctioned doctors to ensure he was not lying about his gender. As this happened, Koubek left competitive sports entirely. Around the same time, writer Lída Merlínová wrote a biography about Zdeněk Koubek titled Zdenin světový rekord // Zdena’s world record. Merlínová was known for her writing on queer people, publishing the first Czech book about lesbians. In Zdenin světový rekord, Koubek is written as various degrees of gender non-conforming, androgynous, and masculine, and this book also added to the controversy of Zdenek’s sportsmanship. After disappearing from sports for some time, Koubek resurfaced with The World Record Woman. Published in Prague Illustrated Newsletter, Koubek himself wrote the 20-part biographical series. In it, he spoke of how doctors had mistakenly assigned him female at birth and how this had affected his life for over two decades. He once again disappeared, this time journeying to the United States of America for six months. He held lectures and told his life story. Upon his return to Prague in 1936, he underwent gender affirmation surgery and changed his legal name. He lived the rest of his life in Prague with his wife, later joined his brother’s rugby team, and never returned to the world of competitive sports. He passed away at the age of 73."

Zdeněk Koubek

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏎Track 9 - Getaway Car

*for the people who voted an update for reputations first, here you go! we can all say thank you to George for getting me in a writing move and inspiring this chapter! sorry for all the lando lovers...he's not redeemed. thank you for reading and I hope this is what you've been waiting for!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“Oh shit. I think I had contact with Leclerc,” you said over the radio as you felt a bump to your back right tyre. In one of your mirrors, you could see a flash of red trailing behind you. Your heart dropped at the thought of ruining Charles’s race, but you kept on going. 

There wasn’t much space for you to go any wider. And Checo had been on the other side of the Monegasque. It would have to be dubbed a racing incident, hopefully. 

“How’s the car?” your race engineer asked. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “It feels fine.” 

“Ok. Just keep your head down. There might be a podium if we stay on course.” 

Your head gave the slightest nod, even if no one would see it. You still didn’t want to be sole reason that Charles had yet another bad race. 

It seemed like the Monegasque’s luck ran out after Monaco. Someone must have sacrificed the rest of the Ferrari season just so that Monaco could be theirs, and it showed. A double DNF in Canada was downright awful, and Spain wasn’t anything to write home about. 

He had managed to pick up a couple of points in the sprint race, but that was it. 

Canada for you and Logan was a thing of the past. A similar double DNF wasn’t something that you would have liked on your record, but what was done was done. You and Logan were still P1 and P2 in the drivers championship and Lamborghini was leading comfortably. 

Spain was a bit better. 

The Spanish Grand Prix saw you and Logan on the podium, but Max took the first step. It was a tricky race with you, Logan, and Lando swapping places lap after lap. At one point, Logan had tapped Lando when the British driver tried to barrel down into a turn. 

Once it was over, you felt ready to be done with over the top races. You missed the beginning races when your car was able to finish the race with big gaps in front and behind you. The triple header had been grueling, and you were ready for a break. Silverstone didn’t exactly start up any excitement. The media and the atmosphere didn’t seem pleasant.

Your race had been predictable until the very end. You had just gone back into turn 3 when your engineer turned the radio back on. 

“Sargeant and Verstappen made contact, virtual safety car. Sargeant needs to retire, Verstappen has dropped down to fifth.” 

You wanted to groan. There’s no way that you and Logan had accidentally ruined races for two of your really good friends. 

“Who’s the leader and what’s the gap?” 

“Norris is currently P1. Piastri is P2. You’re running P3.” 

If you could hit your helmet on the steering wheel, you would. 

You pressed the radio button again. “And the gap?” 

“It is 4.201 seconds. But tyre degradation is bad. Don’t push as hard, just bring it over the line.” 

With a huff, you turned your radio off and kept going. When you crossed the checkered flag, you finally felt like you could breathe. There really was no competition who could have taken third from you, but your anxiety was already rising. 

Although there wasn’t any tension like there had been, your anxiety grew as you got out of your car. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of bright orange run into his team’s arms. Not wanting to get involved, you leisurely walked over to the Lamborghini team. 

Your race engineer gave you a quick hug, and many pats came down on your helmet. However, the person you wanted to be there was nowhere to be seen. As you locked eyes with many of the crew, none were the blue you were looking for. 

With a sigh, you took your helmet off and went over to the weighing station. You kept your head down, looking at the numbers so you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. As you made your way to the cooldown room, George was able to congratulate you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, still not looking him in the eyes. 

The Briton sighed. He knew that when he saw Charles pull up in P11 and Max in P5, you and Logan were going to start closing in on yourselves again. It was his job, plus the others, to make sure that you two knew that it was just racing. 

Hell, Max was at fault for the tangle with Logan. However, the two of you seemed to take all fault on yourselves. If George ever met the people who had made you and Logan like this, they wouldn’t see the light of day. 

George put his hands on your shoulders, finally making you look up at him. His kind, blue eyes melted at the sight of tears in yours. 

“It wasn’t yours or Logan’s fault, ok? Max and Charles both know.” 

You shrugged. “Sure. That’s what they all say.” 

Not wanting to delay getting to the cooldown room, you turned on your heel, out of George’s hands and into the little room. You quietly sat down in the P3 chair, right next to Lando. Your eyes fixated on the screen when they showed what had happened between Logan and Max. 

“Aha, thank you Sargeant for that.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Lando’s laugh and voice. You quicky glanced over, just to see Oscar looking at him the same way. 

The Aussie let out a small scoff. “Mate, Max turned into him.” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “He shouldn’t have gone up against Max in the first place. If he can’t keep P1 then he doesn’t deserve it. Max did the right thing.” 

Was he being for real. You wanted to say something, but you were baffled. Lando’s win was definitely gifted. He couldn’t even hold P1 into turn 1 back in Spain when he was on pole. You just sat still, picking at your fingernails until the official called the three of you back. 

Lando jumped out of his chair and sauntered away. Oscar waited until you got close to wrap an arm around you. As the two of you walked, the Aussie’s head dipped down next to your ear. 

“It was all Max. Logan had nowhere to go.” 

You only nodded in response. The McLaren driver could sense that something was very off. He hoped that Logan was fairing a bit better. 

Back at the Lamborghini garage, Logan had locked himself in his drivers room after he got out of his car in the pit lane. His eyes were red as he continuously wiped at the tears that kept falling. Deep down, he knew that it was Max who turned a bit deep, but his head liked to say the opposite. 

A knock interrupted his down spiral. 

Logan sniffed loudly. “Yeah?” 

The door opened slightly and Benny popped his head in. “We’re going to the podium; do you want to come with us to watch your girl?” 

Logan sucked in a deep breath. How dare he come in and cry while you probably wanted to celebrate. He quickly shook his head. 

“She probably doesn’t need me there.” 

Benny sighed as he recalled what George had said on his way back to the Mercedes. When the trainer caught Logan’s eyes, he smiled. 

“I don’t think she’s feeling like celebrating at all. How about this: I’ll call for a car so that you and Y/n can get out of here when you’re done with your interviews. I’ll let Michael know that you two need some time.” 

Logan didn’t say anything, but he stood up and brought Benny into a hug. He choked on a sob as his friend’s arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s going to be just fine kid.” 

Logan wiped his eyes one more time as he followed Benny out of his room. He could feel the sad pairs of eyes on him, reminding him of Canada after his DNF. It kind of reminded him about his time at Williams, but the smiles made it better. At the other team, all he got where sighs of disappointment and frustrations.  

When he made it to the media pen, he kept his cap low on his face. What he didn’t realize was that Max was standing next to him while he gave his interview. 

The Dutchman has seen Logan come up to stand next to him, so he kept one ear open. Logan shuffled on his feet as the lady asked the first question. 

“Logan, you were having a fantastic race. What happened?” 

A sigh escaped before he answered. “Well, Max and I went for a battle and we both went a bit wide. There really wasn’t room for me to go anywhere, but I should have gone a bit wider to have tried to not cause the collision.” 

Max wanted to smack him for thinking that he could have avoided it. 

The lady pressed on. “So do you think that Verstappen is at fault.” 

The American shrugged. “At the end of the day, we’re both drivers that want a win. When you go wheel to wheel, you need to expect some hard moves and be ready for them. I just wasn’t ready and I dealt with the consequences.” 

“Your teammate was able to score a podium. Is that a positive you can take from today?” 

A smile rose on his face at the thought of you. “Yes. I can speak for the team when I say I’m very proud of what Y/n accomplished today. Even with the bit of bumping into turn 1 at the beginning with Charles, she managed well.” 

The interview wrapped up quickly after that, making Logan turn to leave. Once he was out of the pen, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He slowly turned around and was faced with a concerned Max. 

The Dutchman asked, “Are you ok, Logan?” 

The blond had a sheepish grin, almost borderline uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m ok.” 

Max wasn’t convinced. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Logan. You need to know that.” 

“Oh look, Y/n is texting me. Better check out what she needs. Bye Max.” 

“Logan.” 

“I have to get going! See you at Silverstone.” 

“You’re being unfair.” 

Max’s last sentence died out as he watched the younger round the corner out of sight. He let out a groan as he rubbed his hand down his face. If Logan wasn’t going to listen, he’d have to corner him again. 

The Dutchman didn’t want to do that, but Logan left him with no choice. He had to call the big guns. 

You were currently rushing to lot 2 where Logan had said he would be. Your eyes landed on a convertible, navy Porsche. Logan’s blond hair shone in the lighting of the late evening. When you saw him wave, you quickly made your way over. 

As you got closer, Logan leaned over the passenger seat and opened your door. You rolled your eyes as you sat down. 

“What a gentleman.” 

He smirked. “Only for you darlin’.” 

Your arm reached out and turned up the radio as Logan put the car into gear. It didn’t take long before you two were out of the lot and on the main road. Your hair whipped around you as you sang along to the radio. Logan would glance at you often, just glad to see a smile on your face. He even tried to hit a high note, which made you burst into giggles.

You didn’t know where Logan was headed, but it seemed like he knew as he turned off the road and onto a back one. It didn’t take long before he parked the car in front of a park. The lake behind the grass reflected the reds and yellows of the sunset. 

Logan took this opportunity to place his arm behind you and gently pull you in. You let out a content sigh as your head rested on his chest. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the podium,” he apologized as his fingers twirled your hair around them. He wasn’t looking at you as his eyes were cast at the steering wheel. Your fingers began to draw shapes on his chest. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m glad you weren’t there. Lando was insufferable. He said some things.” 

Logan sat up slightly. “Like what?” 

You chewed on your lip, not wanting to say. “He said thank you for hitting Max, and that you shouldn’t have tried to fight for P1 if you couldn’t keep it.” 

The blond was silent for a moment. 

“At least he said thank you.” 

You sat up all the way and turned to look at him. “Logan Hunter Sargeant!” 

“What?” a smile was on his face, letting you know that he was teasing. “I’m just going to team up with Max, and we’re going to win at Silverstone.” 

Your eyes looked down and landed on your phone which was blowing up with messages from your group chat. 

“Speaking of Max.” 

You and Logan read through the messages quickly before replying.

You put your phone back down before turning to face him. 

“Think we should head back?” 

“Yeah, or your ice cream might melt.” 

Before Logan went to shift the gear, you pulled on his shirt and brought him into a kiss. Behind your lips, he sighed as he leaned in a bit more. Your hands drifted to his shoulders while his rested on your hips. 

You would have leaned in more if it weren’t for the stick shift in the middle. When it pressed against your side, you disconnected your lips from his. Logan let out a soft whine and tried to lean back in. You put your finger up to his lips to press him back. 

“Nothing good starts in a get away car baby.” 

Logan turned and thumped his head on the steering wheel. “You did not just quote Taylor Swift at me for wanting to kiss you a bit more.” 

You smirked. “Ice cream is waiting.” 

“You and your ice cream woman.” 

Logan quickly backed out and whipped the car around. The drive to the hotel wasn’t as far as you thought it was as. Logan pulled up to the front, got out, and rounded to your side to open your door. This time you didn’t tease him and gladly took his hand. 

Logan went over the details with the chauffer before he was back at your side, leading you through the entrance. 

You two thought you would have a bit more time before Max and Charles showed up. However, when the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t expecting them, Lewis, George, and Oscar to be sitting by your door. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you guys are here early.” 

At the sound of your voice, the five of them sat up, eye wide at being caught. George scratched his head, Lewis looked at the ground, and Oscar smiled sheepishly. 

Charles bit his lip before holding a bag out. “Ice cream?” 

You took the bag from him as Logan swiped his card. “Ice cream.” 

Logan shouted from inside the room. “How long have you been here?” 

Max rubbed his face. “Maybe thirty minutes?” 

“My ice cream better not be melted Verstappen.” 

“Your ice cream? I think Charles brough enough for me too.” 

“Get your own Sargeant.” 

“Are they always like this?” 

“Welcome to the club Oscar.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, venus2, presidentlogan, and 2,038,567 others

lamborghini_racing wasn't the result we thought we'd get, but it's better than nothing. the bees are ready for Silverstone 💪🐝

see all comments

lambo_duo logan, you did nothing wrong! I hope you know that we're still cheering for you!!

sargstappen I hope this isn't the end of Logan and max's friendship :(

leclercsdaughter I don't think it it

venus2 sorry team, we'll get it next time

phoenix95 OH YEAHHHH LET'S GO TEAM - THE BRITISH BETTER BE SCARED BEFORE WE RECREATE 1776 RAWWRRRR 🦅

lewishamilton I actually am scared now

georgerussell63 same.

usaf1 let's get Norris on his home turf 😤

ln4fan this team has som incompetent drivers who need to be replaced (I'm looking at sargeant)

logan&co literally who asked you

lestappenlove bring it on 😈

phoenix95 has posted

liked by charles_leclerc, y/n.nation, LEC, and 1,403,286 others

phoenix95 totally destroyed them at mario kart 😈

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and venus2

see all comments

loscarland glad to see Oscar has been adopted by this group ☺️

y/n.nation nothing but a girl, her friends, and some lec ice cream

americanf1duo can't wait to obliterate them in England

maxverstappen1 I WANT A REMATCH

venus2 I think you're just a sore loser

maxverstappen1 how was I supposed to know that George is awful at mario kart

georgerussell63 HEY 🤨

sargstappen233 I'm glad to see that nothing has changed 😮‍💨

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[imaginespazzi]

Part 1: Simple Things

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Cause your presence still lingers here (it won't leave me alone)

(In which a procrastinating writer starts another series to continuously procrastinate on)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 5.8K (lowkey shocked I managed that)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Look at me not being a liar! I'mma try to be good with updates but we all know me. This first chapter is mainly buildup and it's not my favorite but it's important to get the plot rolling. I know very little about California and it's going to become more and more apparent throughout this series so everyone who knows Cali, just pretend thanks! Did I edit? Yes. Are there probably still mistakes? Also yes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked, and what you wanna see next!

February 2033

“Anywhere but GSV,” Paige says adamantly, staring at the white wall in front of her, instead of her exasperated agent. 

Talia lets out a deep sigh, perfectly manicured sharp red nails tapping incessantly against her desk. For the most part, Paige is a dream client and when Talia says jump, she says how high. It’s easy to trust Talia’s vision when she hasn’t let her down once since Paige’s management company has assigned her to their basketball sensation. But most of those decisions had been about endorsement opportunities, opportunities that wouldn’t have other ramifications on the rest of Paige’s life, opportunities that didn’t come with personal consequences. 

“Paige-”

“How about the Sparks?” 

“They’re not offering nearly as much.”

“I’m okay with taking a pay-.”

“You do not pay me as much as you do for me to let you finish such a stupid sentence.”

“Fine,” Paige spins around in her swivel chair, “you’re telling me nobody else is offering me anything as big as GSV.”

“Well I mean Indiana…” Talia trails off, barely able to hide an impish grin at Paige’s pronounced eyeroll, “and of course you could always just stay in Dallas.”

Paige winces at the mention of the current team. With one championship and two MVP campaigns under her belt, it would be incorrect to say her time with the Wings hadn’t been fruitful but she’d never felt quite at home here. And that had been before the personnel changes had hit Dallas and suddenly, the team coming off a near perfect season with a trophy in their hand, was struggling to keep themselves in playoff contention. Paige had stuck it out two more seasons after, a testament to her loyal nature and desire to start and finish her career at the same place like many legends had done but ultimately enough had been enough and she’s come to terms with the fact that she’s not meant to be a part of the Wings forever. 

“Can’t you try talking to the Sparks again?” she says, hands massaging her temple as she resorts to begging, “it’s fucking L.A. they’ve got to have some money lying around somewhere.”

“Even if they did, you and I both know the Sparks aren’t a good fit basketball wise either. GSV has everything you’re looking for. They need a PG and you need a championship contender who’s offering you a deal like they are. You can’t throw all of that away just because-”, Talia bites her lip, catching herself before she can vocalise out loud the real reason they’re having such a complicated conversation about what should be a simple decision. 

Paige swallows uncomfortably, skin prickling with that all too familiar fire that spreads through her veins every time her past brushes a little too close to her present. It would be impossible to keep them from ever colliding, but for almost a decade now, Paige has managed to keep them separate beyond absolute necessity. She’s done the cordial handshakes when the Wings played the Valkyries and given due diligent praise when the media had asked about the competition, but that was it. More than that would have been like willingly walking into a fire with kerosene all over her body. And Paige can’t do that, not when the burn marks from years and years ago, still haven’t healed. 

“Team chemistry is important,” Paige says finally, “I might be an on-court fit at GSV but that won’t matter if it’s a disaster off the court.”

Talia sighs and Paige can tell she’s fighting the urge to whack her head against her desk, “it’s been years Paige. You've lived a whole life without each other. The two of you are adults. You’re professionals and you’re two of the best goddamn players in the league. You have the same goal; you want to win. You don’t think you can put that behind you to get you both what you want?”

You've lived a whole life without each other

It’s like a well-aimed arrow that barely breaks skin but shatters something underneath, something buried deep within, something she should have gotten rid of years ago but hasn’t been able to let go of yet. Something that feels a lot like a forever she’d never gotten to live out and an always that had flown out of her reach. And Paige knows nobody lives the life they’d expected to live at fifteen or even eighteen but the truth is that most of her dreams had come true. The only thing missing was the person she’d expected to be there by her side when they did. 

“Okay listen,” Talia begins again, “here’s what’s gonna happen.”

“Bossy,” Paige smirks, bracing herself, knowing she’s not about to like the next words out of Talia’s mouth. 

“You’re going to go to San Francisco,” the older woman raises a silencing hand the minute Paige tries to protest, “you’re going to meet the front office, you’re going to meet the GM and you’re going to tour their facilities. And if after talking with them and seeing all they have to offer, if it’s still not enough to counter having to play with her, then we can revisit this conversation.”

“Can I say no?” Paige tilts her head with a sigh. 

Talia smirks and it’s enough for Paige to let her head finally hit the table, “your flight leaves in two days.”

***

Azzi wakes up to a light weight sprawled over her back and tiny fingers rubbing circles against her temple. She can’t help but smile, keeping her eyes closed and listening to the sound of her daughter’s quiet breathing as the little girl continues her ministrations. It’s a new skill she’s been taught, to wake her mom up like this instead of screaming. So far, Azzi think’s it’s been a successful transition. 

“Mama,” Stephie whispers in Azzi’s ear, “are you awake yet cause I really really want waffles.”

Azzi laughs, finally flipping herself over and Stephie squeals as she goes from on top of her mother, to landing on the bed, “I thought you said you wanted pancakes last night?”

“I did,” a thoughtful look crosses the five-year-old's eyes, “I think I changed my mind.”

“You think?” Azzi suppresses a smile. It’s uncanny really how she’d given birth to her perfect mini-me. The moment the nurses had placed the tiny little creature into her waiting hands, she’d noticed immediately how much it felt like looking through a door into her childhood. And with every passing day, it seems Stephie morphs more and more into Azzi. From the way her face betrays her every emotion to the way she can’t make a decision to save her life, it’s all Azzi and really it makes sense, because Stephie is all Azzi’s. 

“Yes,” Stephie nods matter-of-factly as she sits up onto her knee and pulls at Azzi’s blanket, “so can you get up and make me waffles now?”

“Oh of course I can, your highness,” Azzi says dramatically, rising off the bed and letting Stephie climb onto her back, “would you like chocolate sauce or maple syrup with that your majesty?”

Stephie groans, burying her face in Azzi’s neck as if her mother has asked her to make the most difficult decision in the world. They settle into their morning routine, Stephie brushing her teeth as Azzi goes through her meticulous skin care regiment, occasionally dabbing little bits of this and that on her daughter’s skin, eliciting soft giggles from the little girl. It’s her favourite sound in the entire world. Azzi’s life isn’t perfect and there’s a million what if’s, one bigger than all of the others, that plague her mind sometimes but then she looks at Stephie, and she knows she wouldn’t change a single decision she’d made. Because they’ve all led to this moment, 9 am on a Friday, making waffle batter as her five-year old sits on the counter-top. It’s not everything but it’s enough. 

The frantic sound of a door being haphazardly slammed open has both Stephie and Azzi startled, until Colleen comes bursting through it like a tornado. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Azzi’s best friend and manager says, out of breath, as she throws her car keys on the kitchen table.

“Hi Aunty Leen,” Stephie grins, waffle batter all over her mouth as she continues to dip and lick. 

“Hey kiddo,” Colleen ruffles Stephie’s hair before sitting down and staring pointedly up at Azzi, “you might wanna sit down for this. I have news.”

“Sorry to break it to you Collen but your new h-o-o-k-u-p-s are not sit-down-newsworthy,” Azzi smirks as Colleen scrunches up her nose trying to keep up with the spelling. 

“Oh trust me Az, I wish this was about my h-o-o- whatever,” Colleen takes a deep breath, “GSV is meeting with a potential point guard this week.”

“I would hope so. We really need a PG if we’re gonna redeem ourselves next season.”

“Right, well- you see- the thing is-”

“Today if you can please Colleen,” but there’s this knot forming in the pit of her stomach. Her sixth sense that’s been dormant for years is prickling and if she’s honest with herself, Azzi knows the next words that are about to come out of Colleen’s mouth before her best friend has even said them. 

“GSV wants to sign Paige,” Colleen says slowly. 

For a moment there’s silence and it’s ridiculous how all it takes is her name for Azzi’s mind to start flipping through pages and pages of a photo album she’s buried deep in the treasure chest of her mind. And for a second, she allows herself to get lost in a flood of everything we could have been until the sting of her hand slipping against the waffle iron jolts her back to reality. 

“Fuck,” she curses, immedaitely blowing at her fingers. It does nothing. She should know by now that when things burn, the flames might die out, but even the ashes remain on fire. 

“Bad word Mama,” Stephie chides immediately, unaware that her mother’s world has just been thrown off balance, “you owe me a kiss.”

She juts her cheek out and Azzi complies, trying to ignore the way her heart is desperately trying to beat out of her chest. It only calms down a little when Stephie presses a kiss of her own against Azzi’s cheek. 

“Sorry sweetheart, mama’s bad, Here can you mix this batter for me,” Azzi whispers to the younger girl, distracting her child with something to do, before rounding on her best friend, “she can’t come here.”

Colleen sighs, getting comfortable in her chair, “unfortunately I don’t think you have much choice.”

“The h-” Azzi cuts herself off, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, “the haystack I don’t. This is my team and I don’t want her on it and I’m gonna walk into Ohemaa’s office and tell her exactly that.”

“Right and what exactly are you going to tell her when she asks you why you don’t want the best point guard in the league on your team Azzi? Your team, who mind you, lost in the finals last year because you didn’t have a point guard.”

Azzi flinches, gritting her teeth, both at the reminder of the loss that had happened not long enough ago and the fact that she couldn’t very well go into her boss’s office and blurt out the truth about a tragic relationship that had lived and died in secret. 

“It's a bad idea, the two of us- we’ll kill each other Colleen,” she struggles to string the words together, swallowing away the we already have that tastes like bile on the tip of her tongue. 

“Well you’re gonna have to learn not to,” Colleen says decisively, slipping from being Azzi’s best friend to her manager, “because you and I both know that if you want GSV to win another championship, you’re going to need her.”

“Are you my manager or GSV’s,” Azzi grunts, rubbing a tired hand against her forehead. 

Colleen smiles, “it’s the same thing isn’t it? What’s good for GSV is good for you. And we all know the two of you thrive on the court together.”

“We did. Past tense,” the admission falls like lava from Azzi’s lips, singeing the edges of her mouth as everything that she’d let simmer underneath threatens to bubble over, “there’s no guarantee we still will. Besides, it's all a moot point anyways because she would never agree.”

“Wouldn’t she?” Colleen cocks an eyebrow and Azzi groans at the rhetorical question, waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop, “because last I checked, she’s flying into San Francisco tomorrow.”

***

Paige has a problem. A really big fuck i really want to be a golden state valkyrie type of problem. She’d fought it every step of the way since she’d landed in San Francisco. Something about the city felt like it was bursting with basketball. The drive from the airport into Oakland had been bursting with murals of the Warriors and the Valkyries and for a split second, Paige can see her own face up on the billboards in a #5 Valkyries jersey. She just doesn’t know if it she can imagine herself next to the woman in #35 again, the woman whose smile in the posters is exactly as she remembers it to have been like when it was pressed into Paige’s skin every night almost a decade ago. 

On top of that, Omehaa Nyanin had seemed to know exactly what made Paige Bueckers, the basketball player, tick. Every argument Paige had about why she shouldn’t be Valkyrie, the woman had a counter ready, as if she’d already anticipated exactly what the blonde would say. The Valkyrie coach had been even more prepared with videos of their offensive and defensive sets and how they fit in tandem with Paige’s own skill set, all ready to show off the minute she had walked through the door. It should be the easiest decision in the world to let herself just belong to this world that is screaming her name but there’s a rope around her waist trying to tug her back to safety, trying to tug her away from dousing her still-open wounds in salt. 

Sighing, Paige lets herself into what she’s been told is called the “chill area”. Coach had offered to give her a tour of the facilities herself but Paige had declined, asking instead for her former UConn teammate and currently Valkyrie centre Jana El Alfy to do the honours, desperate for a familiar face who knew her history to bounce her thoughts off. It clearly wasn’t what the woman had wanted, but considering she was trying to convince Paige to choose them, whatever the blonde wanted, she was going to get. Massaging her temples at this irritating predicament she’s unwillingly found herself in, Paige’s head rolls back against the back of the chair, eyes closing involuntarily. 

“You’re not supposed to sleep in here,” a tiny voice echoes and Paige almost jumps out her skin in shock. 

“Fucking hell,” she curses as her eyes fall upon a little girl who seems to have materialized out of nowhere, “shit kid, you scared me.”

The child scrunches her nose and Paige feels her heart beat start to quicken as recognition settles in. She knows this little girl, has seen her on the sidelines at countless games and just like every other time, all she can think of is just how much this child resembles the future Paige had once believed would be hers. 

“You owe me three kisses,” the girl says matter-of-factly, her tone so similar to her mothers. It shouldn’t surprise Paige, not when the kid has those same dark curls, those same doey brown eyes, that same nose scrunch.

“I owe you three kisses?” Paige repeats. 

The girl rolls her eyes letting out a sigh far too grave for someone of her age, “yes. Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. You said three bad words, so you owe me three kisses.”

“And what does Mama say about asking strangers for kisses?”

“Stranger danger duh silly,” the child puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she looks at Paige with a far too familiar expression, “but you’re not a stranger.”

Paige purses her lips, “I’m not?”

“You’re Paige Bueckers. I’ve seen you at Mama’s games and Nanna and Pops have pictures of you in their house,” she stops, staring accusingly, “you don’t know who I am? Did you forget me?” 

And Paige doesn’t know what catches her off guard more. The casual mention of a house that used to feel like a home, of people that used to feel like family or the fact that, that puppy dog stare still has the exact same effect on her that it did years ago, even if the owner of said eyes is different.

“Of course I didn’t forget you. You’re Stephanie,” Paige says softly, trying to muster a smile as she adds the last name, “Stephanie Fudd.”

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” comes the immediate correction, “but everybody calls me Stephie,” tiny hands wrap around Paige’s neck as Stephie climbs on to her lap, tapping a finger on her left cheek as she smiles up at Paige, “so now can I have my kisses?”

Slowly, Paige presses three featherlight kisses against the little girl’s cheek and when Stephie squeals in delight, she wishes she could record it. Someone somewhere is playing a practical joke on her, Paige is sure of it. Because all of a sudden, all the little things she’s been collecting as to reasons why she might just like the Bay Area are starting to feel insignificant in front of this one, in front of Stephie and her innocent smile and the way her free hand is curled around Paige’s neck as if she’ll hold on forever. And the world is definitely playing a cruel prank on her because Stephie can’t be the reason Paige wants to stay, not when her mother’s the reason Paige needs to go.

“Your Mama just lets you run around the building like this?” Paige asks, trying to focus on Stephie instead of the turmoil in her brain. 

Stephie smiles sheepishly, “well I was ‘posed to stay with Aunty Leen while Mama talks to Miss O but then Aunty Leen got a call and I was bored so I came here.”

It doesn’t take Paige too long to decipher that Miss O must be Omehaa, but she’s stuck on who the hell Aunty Leen could be. She’s distinctly aware that her skin has no right to prickle, her hands have no right to sweat, her stomach has no right to knot, she has no right to feel anything when it comes to Stephie’s mother. But jealousy floods through her anyways. 

“Who is Aunty Leen?” Paige asks and then mentally slaps herself for it. 

“Aunty Leen is Aunty Leen,” Stephie explains unhelpfully, “so Miss Buecks-”

“Bueckers.”

Stephie shoots her an unimpressed look, “same things Miss Buecks. Are you here to join Mama’s team?”

“I-” Paige scratches her neck, only slightly taken aback by the direct question, “I don’t know.”

“You should,” Stephies says decisively, “Mama’s team is the best team in the world and Mama’s the best player in the whole wide world.”

Paige can’t help but smile at Stephie’s loyalty, “so why does her team need me then?”

Stephie looks contemplative for a moment before she uses her index finger to beckon Paige towards her, “can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course you can,” Paige says, leaning her ear down so Stephie can whisper into it.

“Don’t tell anyone but you’re my second favourite player.”

Paige swears her heart feels like it might burst. She’s been plenty of people’s favourite player and it’s always been nice to hear. But somehow, all of that seems to pale in comparison to being Stephie’s second favourite player. 

“Why’s that a secret?” she asks softly. 

“Cause you play for the wrong team silly. I can’t cheer for not Mama’s team,” Stephie huffs and then her eyes twinkle, “that’s why you should play for Mama’s team and then I can support you!”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Paige concedes, battling against the part of her brain that’s conjuring up an image of Stephie on the sidelines, cheering for Paige. 

“What’s log-ic?” Stephie asks. 

“Just means you’re a really smart kid,” Paige says, tapping the little girl’s nose. Her head is ringing with warning bells because this floaty feeling of belonging that’s encompassed in this little bubble she’s found herself in with Stephie is not one she’s allowed to feel, not now, not ever. 

“STEPHIE,” a shrill voice echoes outside and Stephie immediately dives into Paige’s neck, hiding herself in the crook of it as a frazzled woman bursts through the door. Her eyes soften when they fall on Paige and the blonde can’t help the caught expression that filters on her face. She knows she’s done nothing wrong; Stephie had been the one to find her after all. But perhaps it’s because she’s scared Colleen will take one look at her and see that tiny rebellious part of her that wants to fight what’s coming next, wants to fight the woman who’s going to take Stephie away from her. Paige isn’t one to get attached easily. It had only ever happened once before when she was fifteen and she’d just known that the girl shooting three’s next to her on the court was meant to be in her life in one way or another. But things had been simple then. Nothing was simple now. 

“Stephie,” Colleen says slowly, “what have I told you about running away from me?”

Stephie peeks her head out from Paige’s chest, a coy smirk playing on her lips, “not to do it? But you were boring me Aunty Leen.”

Oh that’s Aunty Leen, Paige thinks and she absolutely should not let out a sigh of relief at that but she does anyway. 

“I was on the phone for two minutes, Steph.”

“Two minutes too long,” Stephie counters and Paige has to stifle a laugh. 

Colleen rolls her eyes before holding out a hand, “well your Mama’s nearly done so we have to get going kiddo.”

“Can Miss Buecks come with us?” Stephie asks innocently and both Colleen and Paige freeze. 

“I don’t think-”

“I’m not sure-”

They both begin before their eyes flicker to each other and they can’t help but smile. It’s funny how relationships work, how one snapped string can cause a whole web to dissolve, no matter how hard everyone involved had tried to make it work. 

“I’m waiting to meet someone sweetheart so I can’t come right now,” Paige explains, “but maybe next time?”

And she shouldn’t add that last part, not when Paige should be devising an escape plan to never be in Oakland again instead of giving Stephie false hope about a next time that’s far from guaranteed. But it’s worth it for the way Stephie grins, staring at Paige like she’s given her the world’s greatest gift. 

Before Paige can say anything, the little girl presses her lips against Paige’s cheek and she swears she stops breathing for a moment, “I hope you choose to play for Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I think you’d look pretty in purple.”

***

May 2024

“I’ve figured it out,” Paige says triumphantly as she unceremoniously flops onto Azzi’s bed.

“Well hi to you too babe,” Azzi grumbles as she scoots over to give the other girl space. It’s unnecessary because the minute she does, Paige only moves closer, wrapping an arm around Azzi’s torso. 

“Hi baby,” she whispers before pressing a kiss against her girlfriend’s lips and pulling away so quickly that it leaves Azzi chasing after her. 

Azzi huffs and Paige laughs as she gets herself comfortable, resting her chest on the darker skinned girl's stomach, “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“Our future,” Paige says triumphantly and Azzi can’t help but smile at the our as she intertwines their fingers together. It’s been years in the making and there’s nothing Azzi’s more confident in than those two words. Not everyone finds forever this young, but she’s certain they have because really she can’t imagine a life where they don’t belong to each other, a life where every night isn’t spent exactly like this. 

“And what do you see for our future,” Azzi asks softly. 

“Well it’s simple really,” Paige hums, “I’m going to get drafted wherever next year but the year after,  you’re definitely getting drafted to Valkyries-”

“I don’t know about definitely-”

“Azzi it’s rude to interrupt,” Paige sends her a chastising look. 

“Right of course,” Azzi nods solemnly, “continue.”

“As I was saying. You’re definitely getting drafted to the Valks and then we just have to wait for my rookie contract to be up and boom! I’ll join you in the Bay Area and we’ll be together forever and ever and ever.”

Azzi giggles, brushing her hands through Paige’s hair, “that simple huh?”

“That simple,” Paige promises, catching hold of one of Azzi’s hands to press a kiss to her palm, “it’s us Az, we’ll always be simple. Besides, I think we’d both look pretty good in purple.”

***

May 2033

The Valkyrie facilities are state of the art as expected. Jana is the perfect tour guide, pointing out everything she knows will garner Paige’s attention. As they step foot onto the practice court, Paige feels the overwhelming sense of this could be home that’s been dancing along with her every step of the way today. All the resolve she’d carried with her from Dallas is slowly crashing down and she can practically hear Talia’s sing-song i told you so voice echoing in her head. 

“You’d be really good here P,” Jana says excitedly, doing a little spin.

“You’d be lucky to have me,” Paige teases, as she picks up a basketball and subconsciously starts dribbling. 

Jana laughs, before a serious expression takes over, “we would. We got really close to winning it all last year and I think you might be our missing piece.”

“I want to,” Paige confesses, “I just-” her eyes flicker to the most recent MVP poster hanging on the walls, Jana’s gaze following hers, “I don’t know if I should. It’s so complicated.”

“Only if you let it be,” Jana says as she swipes the ball out Paige’s hands, “don’t think of everything else P, just- just think of the basketball. Because you know basketball-wise, this is the right move,” she passes the ball to Paige with a smirk, tilting her head towards the basket, “why not take a shot at it P?”

Paige shakes her head, palming the ball in her hands, “can’t believe my son’s all grown up.”

“Children of divorce have no choice but to grow up,” Jana says gravely and Paige laughs despite herself. 

Taking a deep breath, Paige raises the ball, arching her arms perfect as she shoots it. It barely touches the rim, before falling through the basket with swish. Hitting the floor with a quiet thud, the ball rolls until it’s stopped by someone's foot. Behind her, Paige can hear Jana cheering for the shot but she barely registers it, her entire attention on the new figure who’s just entered the court. It’s a tale as old as time. Azzi Fudd enters the room and suddenly everything else in Paige’s peripheral fades away, until it’s just her and the girl who still manages to steal her breath away. 

“Nice shot,” Azzi says, as she takes a slow step towards Paige. The air is thick with tension as if a time capsule has been opened and their past is leaking onto the pages of their present, staining it with marks of the you and me that we used to be. She should say something, even if it’s just an acknowledgement of the compliment but her tongue feels dry and she’s scared that if she opens her mouth, all the things she shouldn’t say will flood out instead. 

“Hey Az,” Jana’s eyes flicker awkwardly between her former teammates, “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

“Had to talk to Omehaa about a couple of things,” Azzi says airly, eyes still fixated on Paige, “Jana can we have a minute?”

“You won’t kill each other will you?” Jana asks nervously.

Azzi laughs and even Paige cracks a small smile, “no Jana, we won’t kill each other.”

“Just making sure because last time-” Jana clamps a hand to her mouth as both Paige and Azzi flinch, “because nothing- you guys- you guys talk. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

She scampers away cursing to herself about putting her foot in her mouth and it would be amusing, if not for the fact that Paige can still barely breathe. They haven’t been alone in a room since last time and the air around them hangs heavy with the casings of the grenades they’d hurled at each other. 

“I’ve never seen you with braids this early in the year. They used to be your summer braids,” Paige remarks slowly. It’s a mundane change to notice but it’s significant of the larger truth, significant of all the time that’s passed, significant of the fact they don’t know these new versions of each other. 

“Yeah um, can’t really do summer braids with the W season,” Azzi chews at her lip.

“Right yeah- yeah that makes sense,” Paige nods. The awkwardness is killing her. She’d never been a fan of the silence, always more comfortable in the chaos but it had been different with Azzi. There had been something peaceful, something calming, about the quiet, when it was just the two of them, hands intertwined, eyes closed, as they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeat. 

“Paige-”

“Are you here to tell me not to come to GSV?” Paige blurts out, “because it’s- it’s okay if you are like I get it. I mean- the two of us- it’s just really fucking complicated so I get it- I get it if you don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t,” Azzi admits and it shouldn’t, but Paige feels it sting anyways, “you’re right. You and I- there’s just a lot there and it would- it would be really complicated and when Colleen first told me I- I was gonna go fight Omehaa and be like abso-fucking-lutely not but-” she sucks in a deep breath, “do you remember the promise we made to each other?”

“We made a lot of promises to each other,” Paige says, unable to keep the harshness out of her tone, “sorry I-”

“No you’re right,” Azzi swallows, “but I meant the promise we made when we first started dating. We said we’d never let the personal affect the professional. We promised each other that no matter what, we’d never let our relationship affect us on the court And I know- I know we’ve broken a lot of promises to each other,” they both let out a breath at that, “but I think- I think maybe we should try and keep this one.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need a championship contender and GSV needs a PG. Paige, I’m not here to convince you to not come to GSV, I’m here to ask you to join our team,” Azzi says resolutely. 

Paige isn’t easily shocked by anything really. She’s lived what she’d consider a pretty interesting life but of course if anyone was going to surprise her, it would be Azzi. Azzi, who has always been an exception to every rule. 

“You- you want me on your team?” Paige repeats, a little dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Azzi affirms, “you told me once that we could be the best backcourt duo in college basketball and we were, even if it was only for a year, we were and so now I’m telling you that I think we could be the best backcourt duo in the WNBA.”

Paige is silent for a second before a smirk takes over her features, “I think I did a lot more than tell you, pretty sure I had a whole video that proved it.”

“Are you asking me to make you a recruiting video?” Azzi raises an unamused eyebrow. 

Paige shrugs, “could be a nice gesture.”

“I have a five year old child, Bueckers. Trust me when I say I don’t have enough spare time for bullshit like that when you can easily just search up our highlights on youtube. Or just look in your trophy case if you’re looking for proof of how good we can be together,” Azzi says, a hint of that familiar sass bleeding into her spiel. 

“We really were good together weren’t we,” it spills out before Paige can stop it and it’s like they’re taking two steps back from each other, the friendly-ish banter of mere seconds ago being clouded by a past tainted by their mistakes, “on the court I mean. We were really good on the court.”

“Right,” Azzi averts her gaze, “just- just think about it okay? This doesn’t- it doesn’t have to be about you and me, not like that at least. It’s about basketball. GSV is the perfect fit for you and you’re the perfect fit for us. And deep down you must know that too, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“Maybe I’m just in it for the free trip to Cali,” Paige surmises. 

Azzi scoffs, “you and I both know you make too much money to need a free trip to Cali. If anything, the hotel they’ve given you is probably cheap for your standards.”

“Maybe I just like feeling important? I always did love people showering me with praise.” 

“You always did love the attention,” Azzi grins teasingly, “but there’s one thing you always loved more.”

You, Paige thinks but she can’t say that, “and what’s that?”

“Winning. That’s what this is about. You want another championship, so do we. Come help us and let us help you. It’s that simple.”

As Azzi turns to walk away, Paige can’t help but call out from behind her, “you know I think your daughter’s pitch might have been better.”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips when she turns her face back a little. It’s a new smile that Paige can only assume is Azzi’s Stephie smile,  “yeah? What did she say?”

“She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple,” Paige smirks. 

Azzi laughs, and it’s exactly like Paige remembers,  “it’s that simple huh?”

“It’s that simple.”

[irrevocableloves]

gold rush

cedric diggory x fem!hufflepuff!reader

taylor swift series: part one

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ masterlist ₊ ⊹

summary: everybody wants him, everybody wonders what it would be like to love him, but he loves you. (inspired by taylor swift’s gold rush!!!)

warnings: lil bit of angst, self-pity, mentions of alcohol, FLUFF <3

words: 1.8k

what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

cedric diggory. the prefect of hufflepuff. the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team. your best friend. but that was all he was... a friend.

the secret you bore that you had fallen in love with him along the way of your friendship had burned a hole into your heart, believing that deep down that he was never destined to fall for you.

sure, you'd hoped things would slowly work out in your favor. but in your eyes, it didn't seem very likely.

but to (almost) everyone else, his eyes were only on you.

everyone knew from the moment you and cedric were seen running around the halls together on the first day you were both sorted into hufflepuff that the two of you were completely enamored with one another. it could be seen in many other ways throughout the years.

cedric was a gentleman to everyone of course, but to you? he was an absolute angel. the way he'd listen to every word you had to say even if it was the most ridiculous, hold your books for you in between classes, skip his classes and take care of you if you were sick, just the way he looked at you… you swore the glint in his eyes had felt so much different. but you’d also considered that you’ve just gone completely mad…

you noticed his gestures of course, but you thought that was just cedric's nature. he was a hufflepuff wasn't he? well, he was practically the face of hufflepuff. at hogwarts, mostly everyone wasn't 100% of their house, but you were convinced cedric was the only true hufflepuff.

the girls hoarding around cedric never helped, but you never noticed the way he acted around them. uncomfortable. and not so much entertaining them, but more-so feeling guilty for them (and also because he's a a major pushover). 

with the tri-wizard competition and with cedric as a champion, the crowds piled around him. not just girls, but hufflepuffs who wanted to bash around in his glory.

you missed him. you didn't even want him to put his name in the stupid goblet to begin with, but you couldn’t bare the look of disappointment on his face when you didn’t approve of it. he thought the world of you. he wanted to do this for you, to prove that he could finally make the house you shared worthy of the limelight, to make him worth of you…. but you didn’t know that yet.

but now, every chance you had to spend with him was always ruined by the crowds stealing him away. everyday for a week since then he’d been pulled away from you. his usual spot next to you in the great hall remained empty and no one else had come to claim it, your friends knowing it was his spot. well other people tried… like when ernie didn’t make it time to be cedric’s little side-kick, he’d try to squeeze himself in beside you, but everyone hollered him off when you didn’t have the heart to.

you’d seen cedric make the effort. every single time he did, but he would be pulled away by his growing posse. sometimes you’d just wish you were able to scream, yell, or even simply ask him to stay loud enough to be heard over the boys and their banter, but alas, it never worked in your favor. you also wished that he would tell his friends that he wanted to stay back and just have at least one second with you. just one conversation. but every time he managed to get out a word of retort, his cheeks had gone so red and his voice in a fit of stutters that he’d just let his growing group lead him elsewhere.

you noticed the girls. of course you did. how could you not?

it’s not like girls had never craved the attention of cedric diggory, but after his name shot out of goblet of fire, it’d almost been too much for you.

the girls, especially those from beauxbatons, stared and erupted giggles every time he’d passed by and sent glares at you whenever he’d try and stop to talk to you, but those were always quickly interrupted by his herd of new friends. even anthony, his bestest friend, had grown tired of the crowds and relinquished back to his normal spot the great hall, matching your sighs whenever you’d hear the crowd boast over him.

one night, when you had just managed to finish hours worth of work on a history of magic paper, once you were satisfied, you let yourself bury into the covers of your bed. it was a friday night and there was a party in the hufflepuff common room to celebrate cedric once again, but you were exhausted. you’d purposefully planned to be cooped up in your room all night while the rest of your school mates partied away. no one would miss me surely.

knock knock.

you were tempted to just lay there, pretend you were asleep in hopes they would leave you to your solitude, but the fits of knocks didn’t stop and they soon turned to mutters that would make your heart almost stop completely.

“y/n? y/n/n? you awake?” cedric. even in his slightly drunken state, he was soft-spoken, only gently knocking and whispering in case you hadn’t been awake.

any other time, you would’ve gotten up immediately. but after this week, you were hesitant. it wasn’t his fault. really, it wasn’t. you couldn’t help the built up insecurities and the fact that cedric didn’t have time for you anymore. he always did before, but this time, there was just too much in the way, too many people watching his every move and wanting every bit of attention just as you did.

just as you were sure he’d left, you heard a soft huff and an odd noise hitting your door.

when you finally made your way to open the door, you slid it open gently, seeing cedric leaning up against it, sliding alongside it while you cracked it open.

you gasped at the site, grabbing cedric’s hand with the two of yours and hauling him up. “ced?” you grunted, struggling as you pulled him. “why are you here?”

“wanted to see you.” his cheeks were flushed red. he’d been drinking. not quite a lot. you knew when he’d gotten to his breaking point. right now, he’d only had a couple shots in fire whiskey him, otherwise he would’ve been completely knocked out and unintelligible. “why didn’t you come down?”

his speech was hardly slurred, he just seemed really tired.

“um…” the paper excuse sounded lame. were you really holing yourself up in your dorm all because a boy hadn’t given you his undivided attention? that excuse would never hear the light of day, but even then, you knew it was pathetic. “was tired…” now that was even more pathetic.

you sat over on your four poster bed and he followed in suit, but instead of sitting, he fiddled with the curtains, as if he’d seemed more interested in the velvet fabric than you. no. he was distracting himself. he was just as nervous as you were.

your eyes went to his, then to your twiddling hands. a moment of silence had aired throughout your dorm. then you felt a dip on your bed.

“y/n/n ‘m sorry.” you looked up, his cheeks reaching even deeper level of pink. once your eyes met his, he was a stuttering mess. “it’s just—the tournament. i-i know you didn’t want me doing it and-and i don’t know i didn’t think i’d really get picked you know? then…” he made an explosion sound with his mouth and you struggled not to stifle up a giggle. you loved when he was so nervous that he just rambled on to no end and you didn’t dare to stop him just yet.

he continued on, “and i just got caught up in it? like i’d won a quidditch match, but times a hundred. maybe a thousand? and-and i didn’t want to disappoint anyone… even if the crowds are a lot. overwhelms me a bit… just wanted to hang out with you.” you looked up at him, debating whether to speak up yet. you didn’t.

“merlin, i feel horrible…” he got up from your bed and started pacing around your room. “you didn’t even want me to put my name in that cup to begin with, but my dad… he’d sounded so proud in his letter when i told him about it. i couldn’t let him down. but then you… i shouldn’t have put in.”

he continued on, “i just thought… that perhaps… i could make your proud. you always talk about how hufflepuff gets no recognition.”

me? but why?

“and i know that you didn’t even want me entering the stupid thing in the first place… but i didn’t wanna let you down.” he huffed, finally sitting back down, his fingers still fidgeting.

“you could never do that.” you simply said. it was true. there was nothing he could do that would ever disappoint you. it was quite infuriating.

“i feel like i-i already have.” that’s when you placed your hand on his, grasping his fingers to stop his nerves.

“it’s not your fault.” it really wasn’t. but you struggled to find the words as to why as you found as fingers playing with your own.

“it is. the crowds… i wanted to tell them to shove off, but i just didn’t wanna let anyone down. it’s stupid…” one of his hands found its way to his hair, tending to one of his nasty habits. once he nervously pulled at his hair and squinted his eyes shut, you finally found the words.

“it’s my fault too.” you said, he shook his head in defense. “no. i mean… i know how overwhelmed you get and i feel terrible for not realizing that soon enough. look at you! you’re a mess and i-i wish i could’ve been there. but the crowd and the people and i just-i just thought..” you felt even embarrassed to say it out loud. “you didn’t need me anymore.” you finally let out.

you could feel his eyes on you. that’s when he used his other hand to lift up your chin, bringing your wandering eyes up to his.

“i’ll always need you. look at where i’m at without you.” he chuckled, his cheeks flushing an even brighter red.

“yeah… drunk and crawling up the girl’s dormitory stairs.” you giggled. “how’d you even manage the counter-spell?”

his eyebrows furrowed, a look of confusion on his face. “i don’t quite remember…?”

“you’re not even that drunk!”

“and how do you know that?” he challenged.

“well, first of all, you managed to make it all the way up here. and second, you’re not completely incoherent.”

“yeah…” he admitted. “party’s no fun without you. i’d much rather stay here with you.” your cheeks reddened.

“well, then stay. i’ll make you a tea.” you were surprised you didn’t make a complete mess of your words.

you swiftly got up off your bed, grabbing a mug from your shelf and then a kettle, using aguamenti and then a simple water-heating charm afterwards.

“chamomile and honey?”

a/n: anyone up for a part two???? he was a lil drunk so i didn’t feel comfortable about any confessions and kissing </3 BUT I DO HAVE IDEAS FOR MORE SOOO !!!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon (i don’t rmr how many of u wanted to be tagged for cedric </3)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

[55szn]

lacy - mv1

max verstappen x fem!driver!reader

summary yn can't keep hiding her true feelings towards max

wc 1,6 k (i was supposed to keep it short for this one but oh well)

warnings this one angsty as fuuuck, reader kinda sucks sorry

a/n first post of this series omg i'm so excited!!!!!! i haven't written in a while so this may not be the best of my works but this is still one of my favorites <33 also english is not my first language so...yeah

YN sighed as she pulled the balaclava off and immediately ran her hand through her sweaty hair, attempting to make it look decent. Once again she was finishing behind Max. The Dutch looked back at her as he got down from the top of his car and gave her a sweet smile, she tried her best to reciprocate that smile but it probably looked as fake as it felt.

She couldn't really pinpoint when her rotten mind had started to harbor these feelings towards the man she loved.

YN's first encounter with Max occurred when they were barely teenagers, amid the noisy circuits of karting competitions. There was something captivating in that lanky and slightly awkward teenager that drew YN to him like a magnet. As time went on, their bond deepened, among endless talks of shared dreams that seemed unreachable at the time.

The first time Max kissed YN, she felt in heaven, enveloped in a kind of excitement she had never known. It didn't take long before he asked her to be his girlfriend and she accepted thinking life couldn't get better than that.

The mutual decision to keep their relationship under wraps seemed obvious, a conscious choice made as they started their parallel journeys into Formula 1, that was not the kind of attention they were seeking.

She felt true happiness for Max's overwhelming success, she truly did, at least at the beginning.

But YN found herself caught in the shadow of his success, a place she hadn't anticipated occupying. Eventually every podium celebration and victory lap, served as a bitter reminder of the expectations she was failing to meet. She couldn't acknowledge these feelings so she masked this resentment beneath a facade of congratulatory smiles and kisses. The press was no help. They endlessly compared their careers and although YN had managed to get some satisfying results, she was nowhere near Max's level. They ate it up, it gave them good headlines to pit them against the other. They were the embodiment of a tantalizing narrative – two very young drivers with great success in the lower categories, shared dreams and a seemingly unbreakable "friendship", both coming into F1 with good teams and high expectations but only one of them was reaching those expectations. It was a good story, sure. But the story was tearing YN apart.

Perhaps the tipping point arrived with a very specific headline, its words forever etched into her brain: "Max Verstappen: Vettel reincarnate." With each syllable, YN's throat constricted, her stomach twisting into knots. Max seemed to effortlessly get everything she ever yearned for, now he was getting put at the same level as her biggest idol and inspiration which proved to be too much to handle for her. And with each of his accomplishments the poisonous seed of envy took root within her heart.

It was so contradictory, when she finally admitted it to herself. She loved Max more than she loved herself and maybe that was the root of the problem, her own insecurities and bruised ego. But it was becoming impossible to fake a smile every time she saw him on that top step. She knew it wasn't true but she almost felt like Max was out to get her.

She hated Max. And she hated herself for that fact. How could one harbor so much love and hatred for someone at the same time?

She was loosing her mind, her fragile facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. Of course the ever attentive eyes of the press and the fans noticed the way her once adoring glances towards Max were now replaced with icy stares. How she couldn't even make the effort to raise the corners of her mouth whenever Max complimented her skills or her racing. His tenders words of admiration which once felt like a warm summer breeze began to feel like bullets grazing her already wounded skin, they felt like mockery. It was only a matter of time until Max started noticing this too.

Something was clearly happening, and that's why he found himself knocking on her apartment's door late at night, the echoes of the particularly hard weekend YN had endured still reverberating through his mind. The bitter taste of failure and disappointment still lingered on her lips. YN had struggled with the car and couldn't even make it out of Q2, and Sunday's race offered little reprieve, finishing in a P11 that tasted of unfulfilled expectations. While, of course, Max had made a brilliant pole position and had won the race, once again making everyone worship the ground he walked on. He hadn't seen YN since the race finished. She flew back to Mónaco that same night without even letting him know and without even asking if he wanted to fly back with her, which was the case almost every weekend. Max wasn't stupid, he could tell something was up with her lately, the distance she was putting between them, he was loosing her. And he loved her too much to let her go without a fight.

The door creaked open, YN's figure against the dim lighting within. Her jealous eyes clouded with heavy feelings. She stepped aside wordlessly, allowing Max to enter, her silence was louder that any word could ever be.

He carefully walked in, the all too familiar environment of his girlfriend's apartment suddenly feeling cold and foreign. Max was tense before taking a seat on the armrest of her couch. His heart felt heavy, he already wanted to cry. He had trouble getting the words out, something that had never happened in the years he had known YN. What had they become?

He swallowed dry before finally finding his voice. "I think we need to have a talk." His gaze was pleading for her to meet his eyes, but she kept staring at her shoes.

She froze at his words and her fingers tightened around the edge of the table she was leaning against. She could tell this conversation was coming, yet she dreaded the flood of emotions threatening to consume her, scared of the things she could say.

"What is it, Max?" Her voice was strained, an inner battle developing inside her, trying to control her emotions.

"You know what it is about, schat." Her jaw tightened at the pet name, now it somehow sounded condescending, even though deep down she knew that wasn't true. "YN something's been bothering you lately. I know it. Please talk to me."

YN's heart clenched painfully at his words, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her own inner turmoil. How could she even begin to articulate the burning envy and resentment that coursed through her veins every time she looked at him? How could she admit out loud to hating the man she loved more than life itself?

When she finally looked up and met his stare she felt the monstrous feeling that had been gnawing at her conscience completely engulf her and she wasn't in control of her own words anymore. Her eyes burning with a contradictory mix of longing and loathing. "Are you seriously asking me that, Max?" Her voice trembled with suppressed emotion.

Max recoiled at the intensity of her stare and her tone, a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach by the anticipatory feeling of his world crumbling down completely. "YN, I..."

"You know damn well what's going on." YN's voice cracked with emotion, her words laced with a bitterness that made it unrecognizable to both of them. "You have everything, Max. The wins, the championships, the adoration of the whole fucking world. Everything I ever wanted, you took it for yourself." She knew she wasn't making sense, the words were spilling out of her mouth before she had the time to catch them.

Max's heart constricted with an unfair amount of guilt. "YN, I... I had no idea you felt this way."

"And why would you?" She retorted, her voice rising with each word. "You're too busy basking in your own glory to notice how much it's killing me to be constantly compared to you." That wasn't his fault, and she knew it. It was the pure and evil hatred that consumed her that was speaking those words.

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. "I'm sorry." He shouldn't have to apologize for what he accomplished after years and years of hard work, yet he did, the fear of loosing her bigger than the need to acknowledge his self worth.

The hurt mirroring in his eyes was obvious, her tone softened before she spoke again. "You don't have to apologize, Max. You deserve it, you deserve it so much. I know that and you should too." She took a sharp breath in. "But knowing that doesn't change how I feel. I...I hate you."

He looked at her, stunned. His heart plummeted to his stomach. Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning.

"I do. I hate you Max. I hate you for being able to get everything I've only ever dared to dream of." She couldn't believe she was admitting it to Max's face, breaking the heart of the man she claimed to love.

Max felt as though the ground had been ripped out from under him, the sting of her words cutting deeper than any wound ever could. "I can't believe you're saying this," he mumbled, his voice chocked.

"I wish I didn't have to Max but I can't bear to keep lying to your face. I wish I could just pretend like everything's okay, like I'm still happy for you. But I can't, I'm sorry." YN's voice cracked with the weight of her confession, tears streaming down her cheeks as she looked at him with a strange mix of love and loathing. "I love you too much to keep lying to you."

The silence was sepulcral, years and years of shared moments full of love completely destroyed by the sick envy that had infected YN.

But the truth is, their love was doomed from the beginning.

[cloudstrky]

After Sun - rafe cameron smau

ch 5: best friend's sister

tags: best friend's brother!rafe, f2l, older!rafe,

warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol

an: this part is written sorry if u don't like that :( really wanted this scene written out but im literally shit at writing so i hope it doesn't give u the ick

mlst

Rafe Cameron was having fun. Scratch that, Rafe Cameron was having a blast. You, on the other hand, not so much. It didn't take long to convince Sarah to go to the country club with you after seeing that picture of Rafe. Selfishly, you wanted to grab his attention and prevent him from having another random fling. Sarah was just down for the drama.

You didn't expect to spot him so quickly. You half expected him to already be locked away in some room. You also half wished he was in a room after seeing the way he was pressing the girl from the picture against the wall.

His big hands on her thighs, her toned arms around his neck. God, this felt like torture.

"Do you want to leave?" Sarah asked as soon as she spotted him.

Yes.

"No," you sighed, turning to her. "This is what we came for right?"

Sarah smiled before grabbing your hand and pulling you further into the club, towards an empty table. "So what's the plan?"

You had an even better view of Rafe from your table. You could see every muscle in his arms flexing as his hands ran up and down the girls body. You couldn't be more jealous of a person.

"So," you said, tearing your eyes away from them. "I need to find someone to entertain."

"Easy," Sarah said, pointing at numerous guys before you even had a chance to look around the room.

"You're more eager than I am." You laughed, glancing over your choices. The truth was, no one was coming close to beating Rafe. No one could even count as competition.

"No fucking way," Sarah gasped, "Tyler."

Your eyes widened, looking over to where Sarah was pointing. "No fucking way Sar!"

"PLEASE!" She yelled, grabbing you by the shoulders. "You know how much this is going to annoy Rafe!"

"Sar he hates him!" You yelled back before turning to look at Tyler. "Although he has gotten seriously hot."

Rafe was known for being a hot-headed teenager and an even more hot-headed adult. He was mostly liked, or at the very least respected throughout high school, but he had certain people he just couldn't stand (and they couldn't stand him).

He and Tyler were rivals in high school since they were both captains of the two rival basketball teams. You remember Rafe being on the verge of expulsion after a game because Tyler had elbowed him so hard on the nose that he had to sit the rest of the game out and so when the game was over, he performed a tit-for-tat show, punching Tyler in the face.

They were both older now and more mature, but the hatred didn't seem to slip away with the years. Just last year, they had gotten into a fight at the beach, and you had stepped in because Topper was too busy oiling up a girl blissfully. You remember Tyler had been very respectful of your presence and had walked away immediately, although Rafe had been the one to step away first.

So yes, Tyler would be the perfect candidate for your evil plan to work, but he also would be the lowest blow.

"Yn, you know this is the best timing ever." Sarah was almost shaking with excitement. You were almost shaking with anxiety. What if your plan didn't work and instead all you could manage to do was make Rafe hate you?

"Isn't this low Sar?"

"You know what's low? Topper making out with Allison. There's no way my brother doesn't know. Tit for tat. Now, wave him over before I do."

You sighed, looking back at Tyler. He was already looking in your direction, so you quickly took your chance to wave him over. He was skeptical for a second before letting his friend know he'd be right back.

You watched him make your way over to you and watched as Sarah slipped away slowly, giving you the thumbs up.

"Yn," he yelled over the loud music as he reached your table. "Hey!"

"Hi, Tyler!" You smiled before he pulled you in for a half hug. "Sorry I waved you over, I was just shocked to see you." You made up a quick lie as you both pulled away from the hug.

He smiled for a moment, taking you in before looking around the club, "You here alone?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, actually, I'm here with Sarah. Remember her?"

"Cameron's sister, yeah." His eyes moved back to you as his smile returned to his face. "Well, you've certainly grown."

"College treating me well, you see." You blushed, almost forgetting about your plan and why you were talking to him in the first place.

"You're in college now, huh?" he sighed in disbelief, "Are you drinking anything?"

Now he was getting to the point. You looked around and you felt your heart race as you caught Rafe staring at you from across the room. The girl was gone from his arms and a beer had taken her place in his right hand as he was leaning against a wall, talking to someone. He looked so pretty in his striped shirt, the first few buttons now undone, giving you a full view of his toned torso and his shiny chain. His hair, slightly wet over his forehead from the warmth of the summer night. His eyes burnt holes into you before focusing on Tyler.

You snapped your head back towards Tyler, "A lemon vodka would be nice."

He grinned, nodding swiftly. "I'll be right back."

You watched him leave and head towards the bar for a moment before your eyes were searching for Rafe again.

You found him still staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. You gave him a short smile and a weak wave. You knew he didn't want you here. You had asked if you could come, and he had said no, so you were already overstepping before even talking to Tyler. You saw him give you a confused look before taking a sip of his beer. You furrowed your brows at him, mimicking his expression, and he rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the person who was talking. He thought that was the last of your interaction with Tyler.

As soon as you turned your head away to look for Sarah, Rafe's eyes were back on you. Now that he knew you were here, he couldn't get you out of his mind, and so he wouldn't let you out of his sight.

"I'm just not interested in paying 2m's for a fucking boat y'know?"

No, Rafe didn't know. He had stopped listening seven minutes ago when he spotted you across the room. "Yeah, man, definitely," he answered mindlessly, something that didn't seem to phase the speaker because he kept rambling on, saying his piece.

Rafe watched as you looked around the room. He watched as your black open-back mini dress stopped dangerously high on your hips. He watched as the dip of the open back lingered dangerously low on your spine. Watched as your hair moved flawlessly around with the summer breeze, watched as your fingers anxiously snaked around your gold bracelets, and watched as Tyler came back with your drinks.

Rafe was sure he hadn't felt so angry in ages. Probably since he crashed his back four summers ago. Or maybe seven summers ago, when he was forced to sit out the most important basketball game of his life, causing him to lose the scholarship he so badly wanted because a certain rival had decided to do everything in his power to secure a scholarship.

So, in other words, Rafe was fuming. He watched as you took the drink from him with a big smile. The sound of his heart racing and his blood boiling overshadowing every other sound around him.

Clueless to what was going on around you, he watched you take a sip. He had to stop himself from racing over to you and snatching that drink from your hands.

"Excuse me," he said to the guy next to him, who was left confused as he watched Rafe walk away.

He pushed through the crowd, ignoring people calling his name.

"Party's over, let's go." Rafe's voice sent shivers down your spine. His tone has never been like that around you. His voice, soft and silky, was always a sound you cherished. And it couldn't be more different than his voice now, low and threatening.

"Rafe," you breathed as you turned to look at him. His eyes dark and heavy, show and tell that he had been partying.

"I think it just started, man." Tyler spoke, a massive grin plastered across his face.

Rafe didn't turn to look at him. "Yn." His voice was firm. With the beer in his hand long gone, he reached out his right hand to touch your lower back gently. His rough hands firm but soft on your exposed skin made you shiver unwillingly. Regret was quick to wash over you as you realized how low you had stepped because of your jealousy.

"I think she wants to stay, brother." Tyler rasped from next to you. His hand gently pushed your hair out of your face as he leaned in closer, "Don't you?"

If Rafe hadn't been pushed over the edge, he was now.

"Get your fucking hand off her." He growled, shoving Tyler's hand away.

Tyler taken aback, took a step forward.

"Walk away." Rafe rasped pulling you closer.

"Rafey, let's go." You turned towards him, leaving your drink on the table.

Rafe's eyes softened at the sound of your voice. He could feel his hand burning at the bottom of your spine. He guided you away from Tyler before he could get a word in. All you heard was a loud scoff and something about the drink.

The walk out of the club was tense. His hand on your lower back made you feel as if you were on fire. His breath hitting the back of your neck pointedly, smelling of beer and mint. You didn't even notice you were shaking until you stepped completely off the club's terrace and headed towards the parking.

Rafe's hand was gone in a heartbeat once you entered the parking area. He walked behind you in silence, the hand that was touching you flexing by his side, aching to get rid of the burning sensation.

"Rafe-"

"Get in the car, Yn." His voice was firm. You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him, observing him as he stepped around the car and into the driver's seat.

You followed and got into the passenger's seat. He didn't start the car, and so the silence became so thick you felt like you were choking.

"Sarah is also here..." You said weakly, scared of his silence.

"Fucking great."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and you watched as he texted Topper. He locked the screen and threw his phone on the dashboard. His head fell back on the headrest, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

"Rafe-" you tried again.

"Are you into him?" he finally asked, looking over at you. His features tired and dark and filled with confusion.

"What?" you muttered, unsure of what he actually meant.

"Or do you hate me?" his voice was raspy. The firmness was long gone, and exhaustion had taken its place.

"Rafe what are you-"

"Do what you fucking want doll. Have JJ. Have Tyler. Fucking have them both. But don't do it in front of me because I won't stand for it." He breathed heavily. "You know how hard it was for me to not break his slimy fucking hand?"

You were at a loss for words. Your hands still shaky, adrenaline rushing through your body so quickly, making it hard to breathe. He looked desperate. His eyes tore away from you as he started the engine.

You reached out, your small hand grabbing his. He pulled away as if you burned him and got out of the car. You stayed still, your eyes wide. You had never seen Rafe like that before. His back was turned to you but you could tell from the way it moved he was breathing heavily. You turned back and looked out of your window, deciding to give him space.

Seconds later, he was back in the car. The way home seemed longer than it was. His eyes didn't roam, and neither did yours. You kept looking out the window until he pulled into the driveway of the summer house. Neither of you moved and after a minute of silence, you undid your belt.

The tension was thick. You had never felt so claustrophobic before in your life. You knew what you did was wrong but you didn't think it'd bother him this much. Or perhaps you did.

"You're my best friend's sister. So please, doll, don't make it so fucking hard for me."

And then he was out of the car.

[goldfades]

Quinn Hughes x equipment manager reader smut? Maybe it’s the start of the season so the reader is helping him get all his gear fitted and situated and she’s calling him “cap” and “captain” and he ends up feeling some type of way 😈

✮ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐂, quinn hughes

♡ ─ word count | 1.8k

♡ ─ warnings | unedited (when is it?) unprotected sex (tap it before u tap it kids), p in v, pretty fluffy, cute quinn, lmk if i missed anything

♡ ─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe

♡ ─ ev's notes | sorry for the late answer, nonnie, but i hope you enjoyed!!!!

You and Quinn had always had some kind of tension between you. You could never place on why, but you sure had an idea.

You were very attracted him, and everyone could tell. I mean, who could blame you? He was so gorgeous and not only that, he was so nice to you. Despite the unspoken tension, Quinn always treated you with a warmth that left you wondering if he felt something too. Your interactions were laced with a playful teasing, leaving you both excited and frustrated. It was a delicate dance, a push and pull that kept you on the edge of anticipation. As time went on, you couldn't help but wonder if your he had felt it too.

As the season kicks off, you find yourself spending more time with Quinn, helping him get all his gear fitted and anything else the team needed. You stand beside him, both focused on the task at hand. The scent of freshly worn sports equipment hangs in the air as you adjust the straps and fastenings. The process is weirdly intimate, each adjustment bringing you closer in proximity. Quinn's easy-going demeanor remains intact as you help him.

The strong scent of freshly polished leather and the distant echoes of the team gearing up in the locker room as Quinn smiles, appreciation evident in the way he smiles.

Quinn glances over at you, a playful glint in his eye. "Thanks for the help. I swear, I never get these straps right on my own. You're the best."

You blush at the praise as your lips curve into a smile, your fingers deftly adjusting the last buckle. "No problem, Quinn. Consider it my secret talent, master of the gear fittings."

He grins, flexing his fingers in the newly adjusted gloves. "Well, I appreciate your expertise, Y/N." Your name rolled off his tongue slowly and you both made eye contact. He was smiling as he gazed back you and you could feel yourself get red, you immediately break the eye contact.

Comfortable silence fills the room as you start gathering everything back where it's supposed to go. Quinn clears his throat and continues, "So, any predictions for this season?" he asks, his eyes scanning the room as if sizing up the competition.

You look up at him as you picked up something from the floor, responding. "I'm feeling optimistic. And with you as the captain, I think we're in for the best season we've had for a while."

Quinn's grin widens at your words, and a subtle pride glows in his eyes. "Well, I'll do my best to lead us to victory. But it's not just about me; it's about the whole team working together."

You knew he was just trying to be humble, but you knew he was proud. "Okay Mr. Modest, you know you're the shit, right?"

Quinn's laughter fills the room, a warm sound that eases any lingering tension. "Well, someone's got to keep my ego in check. Wouldn't want my head to get too big."

You join in his laughter, enjoying the easy banter. As the last piece of equipment finds its place, you catch Quinn's eye again. The shared moment of amusement lingers, and you can sense a shift in the air – a subtle acknowledgment of the tension between you.

The two of you stand in the quiet locker room, surrounded by the tangible energy of anticipation for the upcoming season. Quinn leans against a locker, still smiling. "You know, I may not say it as much as I would want, but I appreciate your help. We all do, without you, we wouldn't know how to do anything."

Quinn chuckles, and the locker room seems to shrink into an intimate space shared between just the two of you. "Maybe not completely helpless, but you make it a lot smoother for all of us. It's like having a secret weapon on our side."

You roll your eyes playfully. "A secret weapon, huh? I think you're exaggerating a bit."

He pushes himself off the locker, closing the distance between you. "Not at all. You have a way of making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable. It's a talent, not anyone can do that."

The air becomes charged with a different kind of tension, one that's laced with unspoken feelings. Quinn's compliment goes beyond the teasing, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. The playful dynamic shifts into a more genuine connection, and you find yourself caught in the intensity of his gaze.

"Thanks, Cap," you respond, the nickname slipping out naturally.

Quinn's eyes hold yours, and there's a flicker of something in his expression. "Cap, huh? I like the sound of that."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. "Oh, now you're asking for it. Captain Quinn, our fearless leader."

He laughs again, but this time there's a subtle hint of desire in his smile. "You know, I may have underestimated the power of a good nickname. It suits you."

Quinn's laughter fades, and a charged silence lingers between you. The air seems thick with anticipation, and you notice a shift in Quinn's demeanor. There's a subtle intensity in his gaze, a desire that mirrors your own.

His eyes, now filled with a hint of desire, lock onto yours. "You're more than just a manager, Y/N. There's something about you that makes everything... interesting."

You can feel your heart beating faster as the unspoken connection between you intensifies. The nickname hangs in the air, a symbol of the closeness you've built. Quinn's smile turns more intimate, and the shift in dynamics becomes undeniable.

"Well, Captain Quinn," you say, your voice a whisper, "I've heard interesting is good."

Quinn's hand gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Very good, actually," he murmurs.

You reach up, fingers grazing the collar of his jersey, and Quinn's breath catches. The unspoken tension between you evolves into a something deeper. The tension becomes palpable, and in that charged moment, Quinn closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a deep kiss.

Quinn's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and the world outside the locker room fades away. The connection you've felt, now manifesting physically, makes his touch right now south.

One of his hands go to cup your face, pulling you impossibly closer to him. The kiss is deep and passionate, just the way you'd imagined. He pulls away and you both breathe heavily.

"You're a good kisser, Captain." You tease quietly and it was like something in him clicked, he let out another exhale as his eyes turned into something more than just desire.

"Fuck, say that again." Quinn whispers back, his voice carrying desperation and need.

You didn't know he was into that and it took you aback to watch Quinn be so desperate. "Kiss me again, Captain."

He didn't hesitate, he pulled you in again and this time, the kiss was desperate and sloppy. He let out a hum in your kiss as he slowly walked you back into the locker, holding you against it. His hand moved up to hold your neck as he kissed you deeper, making you let out a whimper into the kiss.

He start grinding against you and you immediately felt his hard-on on top of your stomach. You didn't know it was that easy to rile him up, if only you'd known sooner. Quinn started kissing down your jaw as you let out a desperate moan.

"Shit, Quinn. Please," was all you could say. Your thoughts were beginning to fog up, you couldn't think straight.

"Please what, baby?" He mumbled against your neck as his hands move down to grip your waist. When you didn't answer, he let his hand go lower down in the place where you needed him the most. He cupped your covered cunt and you let out a moan, echoing throughout the locker room.

"Just fuck me, please." You whispered and you felt yourself become warm at the thought. He let out a chuckle before engulfing you in another bruising kiss, your whole body slamming against the locker once again. He

Your hands went to wrap around his shoulders as his hands went to take off your shorts, leaving you in your panties. "Jump," he mumbled against your lips and you did as you were told and he held you up with ease.

He pushed you harder against the locker as you moaned in his mouth, making him break the kiss. One of his hands unzipped his pants and quickly pulled out his hard cock. He moved your panties and slowly entered you. All you could do was grip his shoulders and moan as he thrusted himself right in you.

He stretched you out so perfectly, you swore you'd never felt this good your entire life. "Shit, Quinn."

"You feel so fucking good, baby. So good," he groaned as he finally bottomed you out. You felt so full, so good. His cock made you feel so dizzy, you were about to pass out.

He slowly started thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt, the sound echoing throughout the locker-room. You kept holding onto his shoulders for support as he fucked into you, letting out whimpers.

Quinn gripped your hips tightly as his speed increased with each thrust, your head fell back as he fucked into you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as your walls clenched around him, sucking him deeper.

"Fuck, baby, keep doing that." He groaned in your ear and you could barely comprehend the words he was saying, all you could do was mumble an affirmation as he kept fucking into you. "Just like that, baby."

You felt that familar knot form in your stomach as he kept his ruthless pace, making your head spin. "So close, please don't stop!" You moaned out.

He placed wet kisses all over your neck as he mumbled against you, "Me too princess." His grip on your hips was unforgiving, you could feel the bruises coming in but you didn't care, it felt so good. "Fuck."

The knot kept getting tighter and tighter, you could barely keep up. Before you knew it, your orgasm hit you like a truck. "Fuck, Quinn!" Your body spasmed in his arms as he kept fucking you through it. You saw stars as it washed over you.

Soon, he was cumming into you too. You both just sat there for a few seconds, catching your breath. Quinn gazed at you and he couldn't help himself getting hard again at your fucked-out state. He let out a chuckle as he shook his head playfully, "Didn't know you were into me like that, until... that."

"Didn't know you had a weird "Cap" kink," you retorted teasingly as he laughed, laying his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, you and me both."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | NO MORE HOCKEY PLAYERS!

REQUEST. : I think this might be too vague but can I request IceHockey!James x Reader angst with fluffy ending. I'm acc in love with the way you write him 🤍🤍 ⏤requested by anon

LENGTH : 1.9k

TAGS : modern au ; muggle au ; ice hockey player james potter ; enemies to lovers? but not really? ; enemies by association to lovers? ; protective james potter ; precious reader ; oc!andrew ; reader in a bad relationship ; james being the knight in shining hockey gear ; angst with fluff ending

WARNINGS : toxic relationship ; mentions of mistreatment in a relationship

You knew what was coming. It was something you were used to seeing, to dealing with in the two years you’ve been dating Andrew. As captain of the Ice Hockey team at Imperial College London and playing the Right-Wing Forward position, he was oftentimes compared to his more prominent, more celebrated counterpart, James Potter. 

James Potter was the Ice Hockey captain of his team at UCL and also played the Right-Wing Forward position. Through this similarity, they were often compared and Andrew was beyond irritated by the fact. Irritated and fed up. James never appeared to mind the comparisons, however. In fact, he took it in stride because, in his eyes, the results of a fair game will put the constant equating to rest. 

Andrew was passionate about the sport, he really was, his position as Captain was evidence of that dedication, however the constant comparisons in his ear made him highly aggressive on top of his already present anger issues. It wasn’t like this in the beginning, he was once very sweet and caring towards you, aware of your needs and was as much of a best friend as he was your boyfriend. Yes, you weren’t exempt from the occasional disagreement or shouting competition but it’s been so much worse as of late. 

Just a couple of months ago, he lost a game to James’ team and finally snapped to the point that he managed to make the usually grinning and charming James Potter flush red with anger and commenced a screaming match that inaugurated an infamous rivalry between the two. That one win against him was also the tipping point for all the whispers comparing the two to sharply peak in favour of James. Now, there was always an undertone of James being viewed as the better one of the two. More charismatic, more diligent, more empathetic, more resilient, more consistent, more respectable… more handsome. All of which fanned the flames of your boyfriend’s anger until it reached dangerous levels. 

The matches against them were, now, much more exhilarating but also much more aggressive. It frightened you the first time you saw them play against each other after that horrific encounter the previous game. This wasn’t a good display of sportsmanship. They were like two lions going after each other’s throats, pushing and shoving and colliding at top speeds, baring their teeth menacingly but neither side conceding defeat – they refused to surrender; one had to fall for the other to rise. It was horrifying to witness. You worried for Andrew but you also worried for James. They were both equal in brawn and stature so anything could happen to either side and they weren’t the least bit shy in making their belligerent intentions known. Bruises and sore limbs were expected from the sport but you feared that something more serious could be anticipated in the conflict between the two. 

Your heart was almost ready to burst out of your chest when each game began and ended. It didn’t help that you were a frequent witness to Andrew’s harsh criticism towards his own team. Due to his frustrations and boiling anger, he demanded more of himself and, by extension, demanded more of his teammates as well. Many times, you tried to remind him of the fact that he wasn’t going about disciplining or encouraging his team in the right way. A familiar confrontation once became a huge fight that his teammates had to get in the middle of, worried for you, who they had come to think of as part of their own and, vice versa. Gradually, his support from the team dwindled, which meant that, during his combative encounters with James in the rink, he was slowly being left on his own with no one to assist him. He was playing at a higher risk each game and it hurt you to watch. Your love might have dwindled during Andrew’s self-destructive tirade but that didn’t mean you didn’t care for his well-being. 

The result was inevitable. Owing to the lack of support from his own teammates and having to counter James’ antagonistic plays by himself, Andrew’s anger and jealousy grew and grew. It was a slap to the face when, at every re-match, his self-sabotaging behaviour led to James and his team’s victory. It was predictable, even for you, but you supported Andrew through it all. 

At the end of the match, Andrew sulked in the locker rooms while the rest of the team hurried away, disgruntled by their captain’s pathetic plays, selfish agenda and mistreatment towards them when pinning all the blame for their loss solely on their lack of collaboration when, truly, he was the only one to blame.

“It’ll be okay, Andy–” 

“Shut up!” his roaring shout bounced off the walls of the empty locker room. His voice echoed with mourning, betrayal and burning hot rage. It made your shoulders tense from the rising tension. 

“Andrew, the way you’re acting i-it isn’t right–!” you tried to reason with him despite his hulking form and much larger frame intimidating you. He didn’t even have to look into your eyes for a shiver to run down your spine; the slamming of his locker door, the throwing of his clothes and the reckless handling of his equipment was enough to make you flinch each time. 

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT’S RIGHT OR WRONG!” he argues through clenched teeth, pushing the locker room doors open and letting it swing back, almost hitting you as you scurry up behind him. 

“Well, you should, at least, try!” In a moment of bravery, you puff out your chest and glare at him, your eyes shining with thinly disguised disappointment and fear. He wasn’t like the Andrew you knew at all… this horrible, violent person was nothing like the Andrew you fell in love with two years ago, “I know you can be a great captain but you’re running yourself and your own team into the ground! Learn to put your ego aside for once!” 

“WHY YOU!-- WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO LECTURE ME?!” his large hand raises and comes swinging down. It’s too late to react, you can only pinch your eyes closed and wait for the impact to come with clenched teeth. 

“WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO HIT HER?!” 

The hit never came. Instead, your eyes snap open to stare in shock at James Potter gripping the wrist of your boyfriend and pushing him away as he tucks you behind him. Too shocked at the situation and the sudden appearance of your boyfriend’s counterpart, you can’t help but just gape at the situation. 

No no no! This isn’t meant to happen! You should have left the argument in the locker room! 

“She’s my girlfriend! Dipshit!” Andrew snarls and tries to reach for you again but James steps in the way, blocking your view. He’s a solid mountain between you and your irate boyfriend. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. 

“That gives you even less of a right, not that you had any right to hit anyone to begin with,” James pants lightly, his heightened anger making him feel as though he’s run a mile, “If she’s your girl, you should treat her better! Acting like this after a loss is pathetic but pinning it onto your lady is disgusting!” James can handle rough play on the rink because he’s trained for it and he’s grown the thick skin to endure all kinds of impacts. But, when he sees violence like this outside the rink, it’s beyond infuriating, it makes him see red, it makes him want to throw all manner of good will out the window and go charging in like a stubborn bull.

“Fuck! Off!” Andrew shoves him away and grabs your upper arm, tugging you away without any regard for the force in his grip. It happened much too quickly that you couldn’t comprehend everything until you felt a stinging pain bloom in your arm under his grip. 

“Ow!… Andrew, stop, please! You’re hurting me!”

“I don’t care! Hurry! Up!” he gives another aggressive tug and you squeal from the pain, willing yourself to suppress it so as to not anger him further. But your cry of hurt was enough to set off an unbelievable chain reaction.

There was a dull but harsh THUMP as James’ clenched fist collides with Andrew’s face, sending him sprawling as two gentle hands come up to your shoulders and gently pull you away from the scene. Those same two hands turn you around and carefully move down to press against your lower back, acting as a guide to lead you a safe distance away. The girl introduces herself as Alice, the girlfriend of Frank, who was the goalie of the UCL team. She leads you with a sympathetic smile past the rest of the James’ teammates, who face forward and grit their teeth at what they were just the witnesses to, some even stepping forward. Whether they wanted to join in or not, you didn’t find out but one was tall with mousy brown hair and the other had dark black hair against pale paper skin and grey eyes – the left defence and the centre of the UCL team. 

“You’re okay…” Alice whispers softly, hurrying you along as the sound of punches begin to echo through the hallway, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” 

As tears slip past your lash line, a shaky whimper escapes your bitten lips and you accept her comfort with a small nod.

Suffice to say, you and Andrew broke up. And for good reason. Many people couldn’t even fathom that someone as soft-hearted and sweet as you would ever give someone like Andrew the time of day when you deserved so much more. What they don’t understand is that he was never like that when you first met… but, you suppose, he finally showed his true colours. But thanks to that, you’ve sworn off dating hockey players ever again! 

“Oh!” a happy acknowledgement sounds and draws your eyes up to see a handsome, boyish grin beaming down at you, “It’s you!” His freshly washed locks drip with water and he moves to close the locker room door behind him when his words bring the attention of curious eyes from the rest of his team, all peaking a glimpse of you around his frame.

“Yeah…” you smile softly, nerves shaking anxiously as your hands clasp together for some stability, “sorry for suddenly showing up,”

“It’s alright,” James’ beaming smile doesn’t fade the slightest bit as his eyes shine with relief, “I’m just glad you’re looking okay,”

“Yeah, all thanks to you,” the compliment makes him flush bashfully as a large hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. For a guy with a bear-like frame, he pulls off the adorable puppy look pretty well.

“Did you watch the game?” he hurries to change the topic and instead of answering, you hold up a cutely wrapped batch of homemade cookies. Andrew was once the only person who had exclusive access to your home baked goodies but he lost that privilege a long time ago. It’s time to associate your baking with something (someone) more positive and deserving. 

“Wow! Thanks!” James eyes your offer with wide eyes and was already drooling from the sugary scent in the air, seducing him into taking it and having a bite. You smile at his moans of gratification and allow his free flowing compliments to boost your confidence, “will you be coming to our next game?” he suddenly asks, catching you off guard. 

“Uhh..--”

“Please come,” his eyes plead with you but when you don’t answer, he bargains, “I’ll win it for you,” 

No more hockey players be damned.

A/N : i love writing hockey player james potter too~ he's just so dreamy! ahhhhh! it's probably one of my favourite aus of james potter! (,,o // o,,) thank you so much for the request, anon-darling! im so sorry for taking so long, i hope you enjoy the read!

NAVI.

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