#I feel like most shows with a team set up of any sort always go protagonist=leader

[ninjaaa-go]

Probably an unpopular opinion, but I started rewatching Ninjago, and I feel like it would have been better if they kept Kai as the protagonist and Cole as the team leader rather than giving both of those roles to Lloyd

[pathologicalreid]

the archer | S.R.

in which a trip to your hometown leads to an exposed past and a wrongful arrest, you can't help but wonder who could stay

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: angst

content warnings: normal cm violence/death. mentions of sexual assault and physical assault. mentions of miscarriage and dv. arson/fires. please take care of yourself while reading <3.

word count: 5.96k

a/n: if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, the US hotline is 800-799-7233. be well and be safe.

can you see right through me?

Emily had called you into her office fifteen minutes before the briefing began to let you know that the case was in your hometown. “There are some things that may come to light in a small town, and I wanted to let you know that you can stay behind if you need to,” she told you, having shut the blinds to her office to give you the most privacy she could.

Giving it a moment, you thought about it before you met her eyes, “if someone tries to say something, I’d rather be there to clear things up than let them say anything.” You wiped your clammy palms on your plants before standing up, “and besides, who better to work on victimology than someone who knows the town.”

You stepped out of the office, holding the door open for Emily before the two of you made your way to the roundtable room.

The two victims had been killed a week apart, they were both women who you had gone to school with. The first was in your graduating class, Victoria Reynolds, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The second was a year ahead of you, Melanie Baylor, kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and asphyxiated. The team had been called in by the lead detective on the case, Charlie Platten, and he had likely made the call without telling the police chief.

It had already been three days since the second body was recovered, and Emily didn’t want to waste any more time. You left the roundtable room to grab your go-bag, smiling when you felt a familiar presence next to you. “Are you alright?” Spencer asked, leaning against your desk while you reached underneath it for your bag.

Stepping in front of him, you looked up at him, “I’m okay, Spence.” You plopped your go bag on top of your desk, “it’ll be okay,” you whisper.

“And if at any point it’s not,” he prompted, placing a hand on your waist.

You simpered up at him, “You’ll be the first person I go to, love.”

He reached over and grabbed your bag off of your desk, carrying it to where the rest of the team is waiting for the elevator. “I’ll admit, I am interested in seeing your hometown,” he told you, letting you step into the elevator before him.

“Yeah, Y/N, maybe you can show us some of your old haunts once we solve the case,” Luke chimed in from the back of the elevator.

Laughing breathily, you turned your head to face Luke, “Do I really strike you as the kind of person to have ‘old haunts’, Alvez?”

A few of your team members chuckle. You faced forward, wondering how long it would be before one of them saw through you. When working with profilers, it was always a risk.

'cause all of my enemies started out friends

Emily sent you and Luke to the latest crime scene while she and Spencer set up at the precinct. JJ and Matt met with the latest victim's family while Tara and Rossi met with the medical examiner. Your stomach felt unsettled as soon as the plane landed, you had a bad feeling about this case. Spencer tried to ask you what was going on with you, but you just brushed him off.

You would tell him. After this case was over and you went home, you would tell Spencer everything. He deserved that.

“Did you know her?” Luke asked, using a gloved hand to inspect a shard of glass he found on the concrete.

Blinking rapidly, you snapped out of your stupor, “Melanie? Yeah, she was a year ahead of me in school. I graduated with Victoria though.” You used the toe of your boot to clear some dirt off of what looked like some sort of plaque. “I wasn’t all that close with either of them, but in a town this small, you kind of know everyone,” you explained.

Standing back up and walking back over to Luke, you looked at the building, it’s an abandoned factory on the edge of town. “Is there any significance to this building?”

“It was a functioning factory in the eighties,” you explained, looking at the vines growing up the side of it. “This business was the entire economy of the town, when the factory went down, so did the town.”

Luke nodded, taking a step back and eyeing the entire decrepit building. “And the church? Where the first body was found.”

You pursed your lips, “Only church in town, I was baptized there, when it burned down people had nowhere else to go, so they stopped believing.”

“How did the fire start?” He asked, turning the knob on the factory door, and looking surprised when it opened.

You shrugged, “lightning strike, I thought. I wasn’t much of a believer, especially once my mom died.”

Alvez nodded in understanding, “Would you say that both of these locations are important to the town and its history?”

Nodding, you followed Luke back to the SUV, leaning back in the passenger seat as you mentally prepared yourself for the scene your arrival at the precinct was about to cause.

When you got there, you immediately spotted the police chief ripping the lead detective, Charlie, a new one outside the front door. He saw you and did a double take, “And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

“Sir, we’re members of the BAU, our-“ Luke started explaining, obviously confused at the chief’s combative nature.

He held up a hand, “I wasn’t talking to you, agent.” Turning to face you, “You don’t show your face at home, leaving in the middle of the night ten years ago and now you’re what? A big bad FBI agent?”

You stiffened, pushing your shoulders back as you faced him. Stand tall, stay strong. “It wasn’t the middle of the night, and the FBI is only big and bad to the people who deserve it, Frank.”

The man in front of you scoffed, “I’m talking to your supervisor, you’re not working on this case.” He pushes past you, causing you to stumble back against the wall.

“What was that about? Who was that guy?” Luke asked, looking at you as you got your bearings back before walking into the precinct.

Bowing your head, you grumbled, “You just met my father.” At that moment, you were glad to be facing away from him, because you weren’t sure you could face any of it.

You’re still the newest member of the BAU, technically being a profiler but Emily pulled you in to help with public communications, since the old unit chief had been handling it along with Garcia, Emily did the same. When Spencer went to prison, she found she needed extra help, so you were snagged from your cozy office in sex crimes and sent to the BAU.

You fit in well with everyone, and you never really felt the need to prove yourself. Even taking the initiative to write letters to Spencer, because you didn’t want to be a stranger to him when he came back. So, when you met face-to-face last year, he thanked you. When you kissed him eight months ago, you both agreed to move slowly.

Seven months ago, he showed up at your door and told you he loved you.

Emily gave you an understanding look when she saw you walk into the police station, she, of course, knew everything about your situation.

“We don’t have enough for any sort of geographic profile yet,” Spencer said, standing in front of a whiteboard with a map over it, along with pictures of the two victims. He turned as soon as he saw you, smiling in a silent greeting. You winked in response, sitting down in the office chair next to him.

Luke stood in front of you, blocking your view of the whiteboard, “What do you mean that was your father? Why wouldn’t you say that your dad was the chief of police here?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair, “I may share DNA with the man, but I haven’t seen Frank Burris since I was twenty years old.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? Did she tell you?” Luke asked Spencer, who was still looking at the whiteboard, entirely unbothered.

“What did you find at the crime scene?” Emily asked, effectively ending Luke’s questioning. You had no idea if she had heard any of the previous conversation, but either way, you were grateful for the change in subject.

Taking a deep breath, you turned and faced her, “The dump sites are all places that are former symbols of the town, maybe the unsub wants to further desecrate these locations.” Emily nodded, prompting you to continue. “These kills are angry, the overkill and sexual assault definitely lean toward a male offender, I think the unsub is angry,” you said.

“Angry that his town is no longer what it once was,” Spencer suggested, taking his eyes off the whiteboard. “Are there any other locations that could fit that general description?”

Shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest, “Probably, I haven’t been here in ten years, it might help to talk to a local. Charlie could probably help.”

“Charlie can’t help with anything; the chief took him off the case. It belongs to me now,” a voice behind you said. Immediately, you straightened up in your chair, earning a strange look from Spencer. “Y/N, I’m looking forward to working with you,” the male voice said.

Swallowing thickly, you turned and faced him, “I wish I could say the same, Johnny.” You stood up, needing as much ground as you could get. “Do you know any places that would fit the description? Somewhere that used to be a symbol in the down, but is abandoned now?”

“The school burnt down about eight days ago, but you’d know that if you gave a damn about us,” he said indignantly, looking down at you.

You felt Spencer stand behind you, “do you have some kind of problem?”

Johnny eyed your boyfriend and you hoped he didn’t catch on to your relationship, “If I’m being totally honest, I’m not completely comfortable working with Y/N.”

“Our team was called in to help solve these murders and Agent Y/L/N is a part of that team,” Emily defended you. “If you have a problem, I suggest you suck it up until this case is solved.”

Angrily, Johnny stalked off. You turned around and grabbed a file off of the desk, glancing over at Emily and silently thanking her.

help me hold on to you

Later in your shared hotel room, Spencer looked at you curiously, “Was he an ex-boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes and laid back on the bed, it wasn’t the worst bed you’ve slept in since joining the BAU, but it certainly wasn’t going to be winning any awards any time soon. “Don’t be jealous, Spence, it’s unbecoming," you deflected.

Spencer climbed on top of the bed and kissed your forehead, “I’m not jealous, I’m concerned.”

That made your heart clench, you sat up in the bed and cupped his face with your hands, “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” You studied his face, the small crease in his forehead that told you he was overthinking the situation made you sigh. Gently, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his forehead. “If I think you need to be concerned, I’ll tell you,” you whispered, allowing him to gather you in his arms.

“Okay, angel,” he whispered back.

You sighed and laid back against the pillows, “I have a bad feeling about this case,” you told him softly. Spencer doesn’t believe in intuition the way you do, but he’d never discredit your feelings.

He reached over and swept your hair behind your ear, “Me too.”

Pulling away from him, you looked at him curiously, “Why?”

He shrugged, “Both of them look like you. You’re the same age as them.” The victims, he was saying the victims were too similar to you for his own comfort. You hadn’t really given it much thought. If you start comparing yourself to the victims, you’d freeze up. That was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

“I’m not going anywhere, Spencer,” you comforted, curling up next to him.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey

The call came at five in the morning, only four hours after you had gone to sleep. Splitting up into two SUVs, half of you went to the precinct while the other half of you went to the crime scene.

“Katherine Meadows was dumped in front of the school,” Emily said, leading you, Tara, and Rossi into the precinct. You were still pulling your blazer on over your tank top, having been given approximately five minutes between waking up and getting out the door.

You stopped in your tracks; your mouth went dry. You knew of the other victims, but you were friends with Katherine. She helped you pay for your plane ticket out of here. You owed her your life, and now you’d never be able to repay her.

“What kind of school is it? Elementary? High school?” Rossi asked, flipping through a file that had been left on a desk.

Snapping out of your daze, you shook your head, “It’s K-12 all in the same building, that’s why it’s such a big deal that it’s gone.” You looked at the whiteboard, there weren’t any pictures of Katherine up yet, but you could imagine it. She looked more like you than the other victims, and you silently cursed Spencer for putting those thoughts in your head.

“Agent Y/L/N,” you heard Johnny call from behind you, he and your father were charging toward you at an alarming pace. “Are you armed?”

Your head snapped up, “yes,” you answered, putting your hand on your holstered weapon, watching as Johnny and Frank pulled their guns out.

“Please hand over your firearm to Detective Klein and put your hands up,” Frank commanded.

Taking a deep breath, you handed the weapon over to Johnny, facing him directly. It gave you tunnel vision, and you couldn’t even hear the protests of your team as you raised your hands level with your head.

Johnny grabbed your wrists, and you hissed as he cuffed you, the metal cutting into your skin when he made the handcuffs too tight. “Y/N Y/L/N, you’re under arrest for the murders of Victoria Reynolds, Melanie Baylor, and Katherine Meadows. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” He shoved you in the direction of the interrogation room, “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

An officer opened the door, and he pushed you down into a metal chair, hooking your handcuffs to the table in front of you.He continued reading your rights, “If you decide to answer questions without an attorney present, you will still have the right to cease answering at any time until you are able to talk to an attorney.” Johnny said, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Do you understand your rights?”

You glared up at him, “What the hell are you doing, Johnny?”

He slammed a palm on the table, “Do you understand your rights?”

Pursing your lips, you looked away and peered right at the glass window ahead of you, “Yes, I understand my rights.”

“With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” He asked, leaning far too close to you, you could smell the cigarette smoke on his uniform. That smell was on you for years after you left, you were convinced you’d never be able to fully wash it off. Maybe you hadn’t.

You seethed up at him, “fuck no.”

Johnny nodded assuredly, opening the door to the interrogation room, and slamming it shut.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to pull the handcuffs away from where it was pinching your skin, you winced when it tore your skin. You set your head down on the cold table and sigh, knowing you should’ve taken Emily’s offer to stay behind when you had the chance.

Another officer came in later and told you they wanted your jacket and shoes for evidence, you didn’t fight them, numbly watching as he unlocked the handcuffs and took your jacket before putting the cuffs back on, just as tight. You kicked off your shoes for the officer and sat back down. Before he left, another officer came in and dropped an evidence box on the table.

It was an FBI scare tactic to leave an empty evidence box on an interrogation room table, but your box wasn’t empty.

They wanted to humiliate you in front of your team, and it was working. 

all the king's horses, all the kings men, couldn't put me together again

The next people to open the door were Charlie and Tara, they sat down across from you. “I’m really sorry about all of this Y/N,” he muttered to you, pulling some files out of the evidence box.

You shrugged and shook your head, “Nothing Johnathan Klein does to me anymore really surprises me.” You looked at the files.

Charlie was hesitant to open the files, “there’s some rough stuff in here if you’re okay with going over some of it with us.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked at the file, “I don’t really have a ton of choice, do I?”

You hated both of them for pitying you, but more than anything you hated your father and Johnny for doing this to you and wasting time while there was a serial killer on the loose. He opened the file and placed pictures of the three victims in front of you.

For a couple of minutes, he asked general questions. Do you know them? How did you know them?

Then Tara finally asked a question, “Y/N, how old were you when your mother died?” She asked you, placing a photo of you and your mom in front of you. You were probably seven in the picture.

“Ten,” you answered, looking at the picture. You wondered if you could keep it once this was all over.

“When you were ten, you started a string of hospital visits that lasted until you were twenty years old. Broken ribs, concussions, fractures, and… a miscarriage,” Tara said, your eyes snapped up to look at her.

Your mouth went dry “You had Garcia unseal my files?” You couldn’t help the hurt in your voice.

The way Tara looked at you, you could tell she understood you in a whole new light now, “we had to. She felt horrible doing it.” That you didn’t doubt, the whole team had a mostly unspoken rule on inter-team profiling. You nodded understandingly.

“Y/N, do you have an alibi for the murders? We already cleared up that you weren’t working, but can anyone account for your whereabouts?” Charlie asked impatiently, he knew you didn’t do this, and it might not be his case anymore, but you could still tell he wanted it solved.

Looking directly at Tara, you answered the question, “No, I wasn’t with anyone.”

Your coworker set her jaw as Charlie got up and left.

“How did you get those injuries, Y/N?” Tara continued her line of questioning, setting a packet of medical records in front of you. You were still cuffed, so all you could do was touch the papers with your fingertips.

The paper read of chromosomes and a D&C, you couldn’t help the tears that flooded your eyes, “I- uh. I don’t want to look at that, please.”

Quickly, Tara pulled the papers away, “who hurt you?”

You bit your lip to stifle a cry, “Tara, please.” You knew what was going on, the only person who knew everything was retaliating against the precinct. They humiliated you, so she was going to humiliate them. She repeated the question and this time you answered, “My father.”

“Was your father also the father of your baby?” She asked, looking down at the papers. Honestly, she looked just about as uncomfortable as you were.

Solemnly, you shook your head, “That was Johnny. We were together from when I was fifteen until I was twenty. My dad-“ Your voice broke off, “Frank never touched me like that.”

“Can you tell me more about Frank?” She asked softly, the way she spoke to victims. The one thing you had tried to avoid.

Blearily, you looked up at your friend, “Can we take a break?”

Nodding, Tara stood up. When she opened the door, you heard shouting. People asking if your cuffs could be taken off. You just let your tears fall for a moment. Charlie came back and unlocked your cuffs, looking at the dried blood on them and the still bleeding wounds on your wrists, “I- I think we have a first aid kit somewhere.”

You brushed him off, waiting for him to leave and for Tara to come back. She did, draping a sweater over the table, and you tentatively grabbed it. Sighing when you recognized it as Spencer’s, “Has everyone seen the paperwork?”

She nodded slowly, “are you alright to talk to me about Frank now?”

You used your newly freed hands to wipe under your eyes before pulling the cardigan on. “It was my mom, she took everything he threw at her to protect me,” you whispered. “He hit me when I was ten, I had gotten a bad grade in social studies. So, my mom and I planned to leave, but he figured it out,” you said, furrowing your brows at the memory. “He strangled her, and she died. He told everyone she hung herself. The whole town believed him because he was the chief of police.”

Tara wrote something down, “he killed her in front of you?”

You nodded, “He needed someone else to take his aggression out on after that, so he beat me.” You told her, fiddling with the hem of Spencer’s sweater. “So, when I was fifteen and I met a boy, I thought I had found the answers to all of my problems, but I really had just discovered more.”

“The boy was Johnathan Klein?”

Affirming her question again, you continued your story, “he was a horny fifteen-year-old boy, and he had sex with me even when I begged him not to. He told me he had to because he loved me, and I believed him.”

Tara leaned over and looked you in the eyes, “You know that wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” You asked meekly, tilting your head to the side. “He proposed to me the day we graduated from high school. I had already accepted the fact that I was never getting out of the town, but what I didn’t know was by getting engaged to him I was very nearly signing my own death certificate.” You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the ache in your chest, “I found out I was pregnant when I was nineteen, and looking back at it now, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Tara didn’t speak, she just listened. You supposed that was the psychologist in her, letting you take the lead in your own story.

You furrowed your brows as you tried to bring memories that you had spent so long burying to the surface. “I knew I couldn’t make my baby go through the same thing I went through, so I tried to run, but I didn’t get far. He found me, he beat me, he brought me to the hospital, and he told me I killed our baby.” You could see the story was bothering Tara. When you told Emily, you told her in pieces over the span of a month. “The only people I was allowed to see after that were my dad, Johnny, and Katherine.” You wiped tears from your face, “the judge wouldn’t grant me a restraining order, my only option was to run. So, when Kath showed up with a plane ticket and an envelope of cash, I took the opportunity and left.”

“Y/N, do you think these murders could be somehow connected to your upbringing here?” Tara asked, flipping through another file.

You looked back at the glass that separates the observation room, having no idea who was on the other side listening. “I didn’t until Reid said the victims looked like me,” you confessed. It felt too convenient, victims looking like you, you being framed for their murders. Yet, you still made sure not to call Spencer by his first name, afraid of giving yourself away. “Do they have any evidence?”

“They found soil from the factory crime scene on your shoes, but your jacket is still being processed. Without an alibi, we can’t get them to release you,” Tara said.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned back in the chair, “Of course, they found soil from the factory crime scene on my shoes, I was at the scene yesterday.”

The door opened and Frank stepped inside, “Your alibi spoke up.” He sounded irritated, but not as irritated as he’s going to be once the BAU is through with him.

i see right through me

Spencer had settled you down on a desk in the corner of the precinct, disinfecting the cuts on your wrists made by Johnny’s handcuffs. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, watching as he cleaned the debris from your torn skin.

He didn’t respond, he just shook his head. You could tell he was thinking, as clearly as if you could see gears physically turning in his head.

“Spence, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, bending your neck to try to catch his eyes.

He shook his head again, “I’m not upset, not with you at least.”

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion, “Then stop getting so lost in thought. What’s bothering you?”

He clasped both of your hands in his own, setting them in your lap, “Does it feel like a coincidence to you that the same night Johnny told us about the school the woman who helped you escape an abusive relationship was found dead at that school?” Spencer dropped your hands, reaching into the first aid kit and pulling out bandages before gingerly wrapping your wrists. At work, you tried to keep the public displays to a minimum, but you felt like these were extenuating circumstances, which was why you had secluded yourselves in the corner.

“I need to look at the crime scene photos again,” you said, trying to get off of the desk.

Spencer firmly placed both of his hands on your hips, effectively keeping you in place. “Once I’m done,” he whispered, securing the bandages on your wrists. “Are you alright?”

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sadly, “Everyone learned a lot about me today. Some of it I had never intended on telling them. I just feel… exposed? Raw?” You searched desperately for the right word to use to describe exactly how you feel.

Hanging your head low, your eyes traced patterns in the carpet when Spencer hooked a finger gently under your chin and lifted your head, so you were looking at him. His honey-colored eyes searched your face, and you felt like he was looking right through you. “You know nothing that happened today makes any of us see you differently, right? I don’t think of you as any less of a person because of what I learned today.”

You shook your head, “You don’t learn those things about your girlfriend and look at her the same.”

“You’re right. I don’t look at you the same, I’m even more in awe of you now than I was before. The fact that you’ve been through what you’ve been through and you’re this bright, shiny person sitting in front of me is astounding, but…” His voice trailed off.

Here it was, he couldn’t want who you were. He didn’t want the heavy history that comes with you. You shut your eyes.

He cupped your face with his hands, “it makes me worry that maybe I haven’t been there for you enough. Not in the same way you’re there for me.”

“Spence,” you whispered, swallowing back your emotions, and looking up at him.

Spencer shook his head, “I love you, and I have to make sure that you know that I’m always going to be there when you need me.”

Nodding rapidly, you stood up and wrapped your arms around him, “I know.” Your voice was little more than a rasp, “I know, I love you too.”

After assuring Emily and Tara that your friendship was intact, you turned to the team. “I think I play a bigger part in this case than I realize.”

“We were just coming to a similar conclusion, once we saw what Katherine Meadows looked like, it just confirmed our suspicions,” JJ said, looking at the whiteboard, which now had Kath’s picture on it, as well as yours. “The whole town seems to have it out for you, though. How do we narrow down the suspect pool?”

You stepped up to the whiteboard, “Because it’s not about the locations and their relation to the town, it’s about the locations and their relation to me.” You pointed to the factory, “When I was fifteen, this was the first place Johnny ever assaulted me.”

“You said he proposed to you at your high school graduation, right?” Tara said, “That’s the connection to the school.”

Nodding, you continued, “And we were going to get married at the church.”

Spencer wrote this all down on the whiteboard as you fit the pieces of this puzzle together. “Is there anywhere else that would fit in with these other locations?”

Flipping through a file, you set papers down on the desk in front of your team. “That’s our house, it was set on fire not long after I left,” you pointed out. “That’s where he’s going next.”

“But who will his victim be? If we can get to her before he can, then we can stop him before he gets to her,” Matt mentioned.

Slowly, you turned around and faced your team, “I don’t intend on letting anyone else get hurt. This is between me and Johnny.”

who could stay?

You sat yourself down at the dining room table. Nothing in the house had been moved, its charred remains were left defenseless against Mother Nature. You knew this table, there was blood ground into the wood grain. It was your blood.

You wished they had torn the rest of the structure down.

Spencer didn’t like the idea of you going alone, but you were armed, and you had an earpiece in. You weren’t alone, the team was nearby in case things went wrong.

“Incoming, blue pick-up pulling into the driveway,” Luke said through the radio. “Suspect’s getting out, it doesn’t look like anyone’s with him.”

Realistically, you knew nothing was going to happen to you, but there was some small voice in the back of your head that told you something was going to go awry.

You wiped your sweaty palms on the floral-patterned chair. Part of you was grateful that the team had enough faith in you to send you to get a confession on your own, but another part of you wished someone would’ve asked you if this is really what you want to do. Sure, you wanted Johnathan Klein to be put away for a long time, but you didn’t want to be in this house. When you left, you had hoped you’d never have to set foot in this godforsaken town ever again.

Sitting up straight, the front door opened. You’re not sure why he opens the door when there’s a hole in the wall leading right to you. “I thought you might come looking for me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I always knew you’d come back to me, baby,” Johnny spoke to you in a low voice, but you knew the team could hear.

“I didn’t come here for you, Johnny,” you whispered, keeping your voice steady. “I came for the girls who were murdered. I knew them, we both did,” you told him. That was the truth, you felt like you owed them because they died while you got to live.

He sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee. It was all you could do to not flinch away from him. “Then why did you bring that guy? If not to make me jealous, then why?”

“Johnny, if I go with you, will it stop?” You asked, turning to him, reaching out your hand, and placing it on his arm.

Humming, he reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear, luckily not the side where you had your earbud in. “I don’t know what you mean, babe. You’ll have to spell it out for me,” he said, pulling you to your feet abruptly. You didn’t see the knife when he first walked in, you didn’t even know he had it until it was to your throat.

But you weren’t twenty years old anymore. You had grown up. You had learned self-defense.

So, you caught him off guard when you hit him, causing the knife to clatter to the ground. “You bitch!” He growled, “I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You won’t kill me,” you said, planting your feet on the ground. “You had five years to kill me, Johnny.”

He stood up, “No, but I killed a part of you. Didn’t I? When I killed your baby?”

After all these years, he knew how to get under your skin. He got one hit off, across your cheek, the strike so hard that your earbud went flying across the room. “You killed the part of me that you created, that’s not who I am. I recreated myself, a version of myself without this godforsaken town.”

“But I got you here, back home. I killed all those girls for you to come back to me,” he said, running straight at you.

You hit him with your gun, you physically struck him with the butt of the gun. You could’ve shot him, it would’ve been clean, but you didn’t. That would’ve been easy for him. He dropped like a ragdoll and the rest of your team came rushing in. Someone was calling your name, but you couldn’t hear.

Matt ended up being the one who cuffed him, you slowly walked away from them. Backing yourself into a wall, you watched it all happen.

When you left your hometown, you never quite felt like it was over. He was always still going to be around. But this? This felt final.

It made your chest ache.

Gently, Spencer took your hand and led you outside. “It’s done?”

He nodded rapidly, “It’s over, angel. Emily and Luke are at the precinct taking Frank into custody. They’ll both go away for a long time.”

“Spence, I want to go home,” you whispered, looking down the road and seeing houses that you recognize from your childhood. This whole town was filled with your own ghosts. “Can we go home?”

Spencer didn't answer, he just pulled you into him and held you tightly. You let him inspect the wound on your cheek before you went back to the hotel and put everyone’s belongings in an SUV.

On the jet, the two of you sequestered yourselves in the back where it’s darker. He offered to let you lie down, so you rested your head in his lap. He used one hand to hold his book and the other to smooth your hair back. Your eyes were shut, but you were vaguely aware of the rest of the team as they took turns peeking back at the both of you.

you could stay

please remember to like, reblog, and comment

[babyjakes]

help me hold onto you.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. ���

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | sex pollen

pairing | steve rogers x avenger!reader

warnings | sex pollen (reader was exposed to some sort of chemical agent that induced a persistent state of hyperarousal.) medical elements (reader is staying in the medbay.) crying (not related to the sexual interactions.) stevie is soooo soft :')). dialogue is soft and sweet, gentle praise and encouragement included. fingering. tummy rubs bc they make me soft. she comes quick! intense, prolonged orgasm. the beginnings of aftercare.

word count | 1,356

"Hey, hey- okay. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here. Just tell me what you need."

Steve's brow was raised in gentle concern as he stood over your hospital bed. Dr. Banner had set you up in a secluded room at the end of the medbay, wanting to give you as much privacy as possible given the nature of your condition. It was still all a bit baffling to Steve; Bruce had shared any information he had available on the mysterious chemical you'd been exposed to out on your mission to a foreign bioweaponry facility, but most of it had gone in one of the supersoldier's ears and out the other. "Persistent heightened state of arousal" was the only phrase he was able to cling to, which still didn't feel like much to go off of.

As he stood there at your bedside, though, those words were all of a sudden making a lot more sense. You were a pitiful sight, really- curled up on your side with your knees hugged up to your chest. Your whole body was shaking, something that tore at your teammate's heart as he came to better terms with the severity of the state you were in. Overcome with obvious discomfort, all you could do was lie there and rub your sore knees together uselessly. Your hands reached out for him needily; in an instant, he was lowering himself down to sit beside you, leaning over you attentively as his face filled with concern.

"Oh doll," he hummed, reaching out to brush back your hair with a steady hand. Your forehead was drenched in sweat, your big eyes looking up at him pleadingly. As another wave of unbearable heat rolled over you, tears were building in your eyes. "How can I help, sweet girl?" Steve was pressing, "Is there anything I can do?"

In a moment of total weakness, you reached out for him again. This was completely abnormal behavior for you. Being the youngest and newest to the team, you were always intentional about maintaining an image of responsibility and restraint. But as Steve sat there at your side, his steel blue eyes looking over you so thoughtfully as he gently offered you his hands, your hijacked mind was fixating on him faster than you could realize what was happening.

"P-please," the weakness of your small voice broke Steve's heart. He nodded encouragingly, wanting to do anything he could to ease your suffering.

"What is it, honey? Hmm? What do you need?" he asked soothingly.

More tears built in your eyes as you failed to generate a verbal response. Instead, all you could do was continue to writhe pathetically. Steve's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of your movements. "Does something hurt?" You whimpered feebly at his question, shaking your head. "No, then what is it, sweetheart? Can you tell me, or- or show me?"

Desperation drove your every move as you shifted slightly onto your back, your knees falling apart as you brought a shaking hand down to motion over your hospital gown toward where the sensations were accumulating. If Steve was surprised or offended by your admission, he didn't let it show. Instead, he simply nodded, speaking with an understanding tone, "It's bothering you there, darlin'? Do you want me to take a look?"

Your wide, pleading eyes were enough to answer his question. Pausing, he took a moment to consider the best way to proceed. After a quick glance back at the door to the hallway, seeing that the coast was seemingly clear, he gently brought his hands over to lift up the thin fabric of the gown, pulling it back to expose the area you had pointed to. Steve couldn't help but gasp softly as he saw the ramifications for the first time; any doubts he could've had about the compound's strength or effects were immediately shot down as he faced the living, breathing evidence.

"Oh honey," he crooned worriedly, leaning his head down a bit to get a better look. Your pussy was so puffy it almost looked painful. Your clit was swollen to about three times its normal size, pulsating visibly in unison with your heavy heartbeat. Bruce had placed a wide gauze pad beneath you, and it wasn't hard to see why; with the constant state of arousal your body was trapped in, you were amassing an impressive amount of self-lubricant. Face drawn in disbelief and honest fascination, Steve struggled to find words to console you. "Sweetie, what can I do? Let me help you," his voice was swelling with concern. Swallowing hard, his gaze returned up to your face. "Can I-... would it help if I-... you know...?" The sweetest hint of pink rose up in his cheeks.

You were unsure of what would happen if he tried, but with the way your stomach was lurching and spasming in excitement at the mere thought, both you and Steve knew it would be senseless to not at least give it a try. Sensing your mild confliction, the supersoldier took a moment to brush back your hair again as his soothing voice filled the air, "It's alright, doll. Let me take care of you. S'just me, just Stevie. I'll be gentle, I promise."

As he spoke, he gently drew his hand down to begin rubbing at your inner thigh. Letting out a squeak of surprise, your heart jumped at the way his touch immediately sent sparks shooting up through your tangled nerves. "Easy," he hummed lowly, pushing on you carefully to encourage you to open up your legs a little further. Once you were nice and spread out for him, he took another deep breath. "Okay darlin'. Just keep breathing for me," he seemed to be trying to calm his own nerves as much as he was yours.

With the lightest amount of pressure he could manage, Steve carefully brought his pointer and middle middle fingers to sink slightly into your pool of arousal. They didn't linger long, as they then slowly dragged up your wetness to smear over your enlarged clit. The moment he came in contact with your poor button, your world was set ablaze. You had never felt such unbearable heat in your life; it was as if every atom within your core was being blasted into smithereens, an incredible amount of energy and pressure building up inside of you as a result.

"Easy, easy- shhhh," Steve was doing his best to talk you through it, watching as your hands scrambled to grip the sheets below you, your hips rocking in shameless desperation.

"Mm.... mmhh... hhh..." you struggled through incoherent whines. The man brought his free hand over to rub your tummy gently, trying to give you any sense of comfort and safety he could as he continued working the pads of his fingers in careful, steady circles.

It only took a few more moments of the simple stimulation to send an orgasm ripping through you with unimaginable force; as Steve saw your climax hit, his eyes widened, but he was intent on carrying you through it. Needy cunt spasming around nothing, your clit jerked and jolted beneath his tender traces. Your eyes were rolling back in your head, your whole body at the mercy of the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

And you kept coming, and coming, and coming- trapped in the grips of your orgasm for what must have been minutes compared to the fleeting moments you were usually granted. "Good, let it out," Steve was murmuring softly, watching as all your pent-up frustration was slowly pulled from your seizing body.

When you were finally winding down, breathless and slumped against the flimsy mattress beneath you, he was careful to pull his hands away with the utmost care to avoid causing you any further discomfort or unwanted stimulation. As he stood momentarily to find something to wipe his hands with, you let out a shaky whimper. "No, no, I'm here," he quickly returned to your side, retaking his place next to you on the cot. "I'm right here, doll. You're okay. Here, let me clean you up a bit, honey."

[pelova4president]

Shadows are to protect I

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect II, III, IV

summary~ You just moved to Arsenal and everything was unknown to you but now you had Alessia. Your situationship with Alessia was everything but perfect but at least she was there, sometimes.

this is pure angst

Alessia is your whole heart. You could tell her that a thousand times and she still wouldn’t leave her boyfriend.

He doesn’t even get her, not like you do. He doesn’t appreciate her like you do. It should be you holding her hand on the streets. It should be you kissing her in the bars of London.

You didn’t really know when you started to feel that way. You’d just moved to England, a very scary move from your comfortable and warm Spain. Spain and Barcelona was all you’ve even known. Expending your world was just as terrifying as you’d ever believed.

The welcome was cold, very cold. It was the completely opposite of what you were used to, it was quite literally what you were petrified of. You left the warm sun kissing the dark little freckles on your face and exchanged the English rain dropping down on your hair. You weren’t even sure what to call it, not in English and not in Spanish either.

But even now you weren’t sure if you’d go back and stay in Barcelona. The sun might shine there most hours of the working days but you’d always be in the shadows. In the shadows of La Reina, Alexia Putellas, your sister.

The two coloured club had offered you a contract extension where you’d get paid twice the amount you did last year. You’d driven to the club like you did most days but this time you had one thing in mind, or so you thought. Signing for another three years and being the average defender in the team for whenever one of the original starters couldn’t participate.

A red and blue pen rested between your thumb and point fingers as you listened to your manager talk about the future. But most of it fell to deaf ears. “Alexia and you would be the head of the Champions League campaign. Imagine this, the Putellas hermanas on top of Europe.” he said full excitement. It wasn’t the whole campaign that set you off but how he began his sentence, ‘Alexia and you’.

You were sitting here, ready to sign your contract, for your future. They wanted you to sign and still their first thought was Alexia.

Without saying a word you stormed off. You were not doing this again for three more years.

You had spiked interest from multiple clubs, not only Europe but America too. But when Arsenal let your agency know that they wanted you, you knew that that was it. From now on you’ll be a gunner, through and through.

You got picked up from the Airport. With a sign reading ‘Putellas’. It felt good. They didn’t have to clarify which Putellas sister they were picking up, there was only one in London now, you. The bigger man, he might’ve even be twice the height of you introduced himself. And with the little English you had in store you thanked him and told him your name.

The man you now knew as Keith was a simple man. He opened the door for you and didn’t say much. You liked it that way, the silence was fine by you. You liked that the intimidating car you were sat in had tinted windows. Not so you couldn’t be seen but because it gave you some sort of comfort. When you were younger and Alexia was a rising star she had you sit in the backseat, where nobody could see you and where you’d be safe she’d say.

The little droplets of rain were doing races and you had lost for about the twentieth time when the car came to a stop. Keith grumbled something about being there and got out. You didn’t really know what to do and what they expected of you so you opened the car door. Picking your bags up you placed your right foot outside and your left followed.

It all went too fast, Jonas showed almost all the rooms in the building and the wet pitches that were not in any state to be used. You had to film a few shots for your signing announcement, get through a few medical test and finally got to go home.

Keith drove you to your temporary apartment just a few minutes away from the training ground. You had a streak of almost one hundred days of English on Duolingo so you thanked the tall man in the few words you had learned to say and got out of the black Range Rover.

You were home. You were home, you kept repeating those words but you didn’t believe it. You were home.

This is it now. North London is your new home.

The appartement was empty except for the blank furniture, it had no personality and it was hard to think there ever would be. Four white walls, a grey couch, a black kitchen and an all white bed in the middle of your bedroom. They didn’t even tell you that the kitchen would be just as empty as the apartment.

The sound of a notification alarmed you out of your emotionless state. You forgot to put your phone on do not disturb. ‘Where are you?’ it read. Alexia knew you didn’t sign for Barca the day before but she didn’t know you’d be gone by the morning. Tapping on the do not disturb mode you traveled to your all white bed.

And that is how it went, do not disturb mode on. You we there, at the training ground and the games but not really there. You weren’t in the right mindset to talk to anyone yet and that’s why it was so goddamn frustrating when McCabe or Mead tried to get you to talk.

You sat alone at lunch, didn’t go out with your teammates and barely stayed in contact with your sister. That was until Alessia Russo came into your life.

You didn’t mean to let her in. You decided early on that you were at Arsenal for your career and career only. But she changed that, so quick. And before you knew it you were falling for her.

She came into Arsenal and everyone was a fan of her. It seemed like she was friends with everyone instantly and it made you curious.

Alessia had been a gunner for almost a week when you realised she lived across from your apartment. She came knocking on your door one evening, offering you some of het pasta since she had made too much. You knew that she’d been searching for an opportunity to get you to talk to her but you didn’t expect her to come knocking at your door like that.

You let her in and she started to talk to you. You couldn’t exactly call it a conversation since she did all the talking and you muttered out some broken English once in a while. But even though you hated to admit it, she was nice company. It made you feel less lonely, she made you feel less empty.

You’d told Alexia about your move to Arsenal before it officially came out and she wasn’t pleased, at all. She was mad, mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You told her what had happened and what was racing through your mind when you made the decision but she just couldn’t fathom out the thought of you feeling that way. And that made you feel even less understood, it felt like your life was slipping away from you and you only made it worse with every next move you made.

But Alessia made you feel like you were okay for a moment. After the first day of eating together she offered you food almost everyday and after a month it became a tradition, you would diner together every single day and she even learned you English. You didn’t really progress in your Duolingo streak and didn’t talk much either so the help was very much needed.

It wasn’t until the first half of the season had been played that you realised you had other feelings for her. You saw her as more than just a friend. It was all going very fast and the feelings intensified by the day, that may be because she was the only one you really could talk to. It hurt you to even think about living without her and that might’ve the first warning you should’ve seen but you didn’t.

It was Alessia who kissed you first. You both had been drinking and the two empty bottles of red wine next to your grey couch were the evidence of that. Alessia was a touchy person, just like everyone in Spain so you didn’t mind. She was giggly and teasing you relentlessly.

“I bet you think about me hmm?” she hummed and started to climb on top of you. Taken aback by the movement you didn’t really react to anything she had just said. “I want to kiss you.” she whispered into your ear that was tinted red by now. You didn’t answer. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay.” she leaned in, placing her pink lips on your red ones. It was sweet but turned desperate very quickly.

The blonde slept sweetly beside you that evening. The thoughts raced through your mind and none of them were making any sense. It was hard to think straight with Alessia next to you, that was what made things so complicated. But now that she was laying in your bed you couldn’t not have her there, you needed her.

Alessia started to stay over more and more, it became your new normal. Half of her closet was laying in yours and she even brought her favourite mug with her. You bought all her favourite foods so she would feel comfortable and she appreciated it, just not enough to stay with you.

You came home on a Thursday evening one day but Alessia was nowhere to be found. Normally she would be laying on your couch, watching some sappy Netflix show you refused to watch with her. A bowl of nuts in her hands she didn’t really like but it was a healthy snack so it would do. But the only thing you found on your couch was her blue hoodie. Well it was yours originally but she basically claimed it as hers now.

Putting your cold groceries away you walked towards Alessia’s front door. She had given you her spare key after leaving hers in her home, locking herself out for the second time. She had bought a keychain with it, a little Barca jersey with your name and number on it. You smiled down at the colourful jersey and opened the door.

Walking in you heard some laughter coming from the living room that you could describe in detail. It was a light living room with two big windows that were open at all times, she liked it that way. She bought a brown couch after you broke her beige one. You had gifted her a few plants to make the room a real living space but knew she didn’t really care for them so you’d come in and give them water.

The photo’s in her hallway were those of her mom, dad and brothers, who she adored so much. And even though she didn’t like to have pictures of herself in her home she had one of her and her best friend Ella after winning the Euros.

When you stepped into the living area you were a bit taken aback by the man sitting next to your Alessia. His left hand was draped over her shoulder, like it was the most normal thing. His right was resting on her thigh. Who was he?

You stood still, watching the pair until Alessia noticed you. Her eyes had gone wide. “Hey, what’re you doing here?” she asked carefully. You didn’t answer. “Luke, this is my teammate, and well, this is my boyfriend Luke.” she introduced you and stalked towards your frozen form.

Boyfriend? You thought..

Alessia gave her boyfriend some weak excuse and walked you back to your apartment. You were in your own home again, a safe place. When Alessia started to talk again you cut her off. “I- you have a boyfriend? I thought we had.. something?” you looked almost lost to her. “Well, you thought wrong. Whatever you thought we had, we didn’t.” she said without any emotion behind her eyes, like she hadn’t spent the whole of last week in your house, in your bed, wearing your hoodie.

She left your house like nothing had happened.

Were you really that stupid, did you really think she’d like you. You had created this whole other reality, one where she’d actually like you and wanted to be with you.

You kept to yourself even more now. Alessia had gotten you out of your shell to some extent but now you had crawled back in again. Every moment you weren’t training or playing football you were at home but it didn’t feel like home anymore. It wasn’t as empty as it was when it arrived but it felt like it. The life had gone away and that’s not something you can fix with a few overpriced paintings and some weird cactus.

You couldn’t eat dinner without Alessia, you couldn’t watch horrible movies without Alessia and you just couldn’t sleep in a bed without Alessia.

It was the one time you decided to go out and drink that she came over to talk to you again. She acted like nothing had ever happend, like it was back to normal again, like she had slept in your bed the day before. But you liked it, craved it even. You had longed for Alessia to come back again and save you from yourself.

So she ended up in your bed and stayed long enough for you to fall asleep. But not long enough for you to wake up to her scent or her sleepy blue eyes and messy blonde hair.

It went on like that, she came home with you for the night and you forgot about all the things she had done to you and you woke up to an empty bed. You did feel bad for the Luke guy, well you did in the beginning but somewhere along the way you started to lose that sympathy.

You were mad. Angry. He could drive her to training and hold her hand out in public. He could kiss her on the streets and wake up to her snuggled next to him. He could have all those domestic little moments and gestures you longed for. It wasn’t fair.

Alessia had prepared dinner for the both of you and you were watching a movie when you felt the need to talk to her about this whole situation. “Lessi, i really like you. I want you and i to be together because i love you.” there, you said it. Alessia didn’t look at you, she stared blankly at the movie infront of her. You reached for the distraction playing on the television and paused it but she still wouldn’t look you in the eyes.

“I love you.” you repeated again, hoping for a response. She sighed, “Look, i don’t know what you think we are but we aren’t that. I don’t know how many times i have to tell you this but i have a boyfriend and you’re just there for a quick fuck. That’s all. You’re not special just because your sister has won a few trophies. I can’t do anything about the fact that you’re fucking lonely but leave me out of it.” she hissed.

You just said you loved her, for the first time. You handed her your fucking heart and she stomped on it like it was nothing. Alesia knew your relationship with your sister was complicated and being in her shadows was something that hurt you the most in this world, but yet she brought it up. You’d told her everything you never dared to say out loud and she used it to damage you even more. She is your whole world but to her you’re a ‘quick fuck’.

You were hers but she’d never be yours

“Please go away.” you asked her, tears threatening to escape your tired glossy eyes.

You were left alone in your apartment and the loneliness was more torturous than ever. The fucking lasagna Alessia had made you had turned cold and you looked at the wooden table infront of you. There was a picture of you and Alexia framed, Alessia had printed it out to make you feel more like home but it only made you miss it more, especially now.

Looking at your phone you opened your chat with your sister. You hadn’t texted her in about a month, the last text being about your mothers birthday that you couldn’t attend.

You needed her, you needed you sister to protect you. You needed her to protect you from the sun and to place you in her shadows again. For once it was all you desired.

A/N let me know what you think of the fic!! Also, i don’t know if i should write a second part and if or how i should end up Alessia and R together. I could make R fall in love with someone else too??

[trulyhblue]

INAPPROPRIATE

leah williamson x arsenal! reader

warnings — tiny angst, annoyed! Leah, Emma Hayes, Chelsea, sorta fluff, coarse language, mention of injury scare.

A/N — in light of Lee’s birthday!!!! short one today, sorry! Thought I would add some spice to this. Emma Hayes needs to realize that pretty much all of woso have dated each other, including her own players lol. there is a mention of Bug, which is a character in one of my stories. Just for context, that is Caitlin Foord’s daughter.

___________________

After hearing Emma Hayes yap on about her opinion on footballers' relationships, you found yourself subjected to a pretty pissed-off Leah Williamson.

Today was the London derby, a long-awaited revenge for Chelsea, it seemed, as the Arsenal bus arrived outside the stadium. Seas of blue and red treaded the stands — you caught sight of a couple of jerseys with your number plastered on the back. Leah was holding your waist as you wandered through the mob of fans reaching for autographs and pictures, a cold facade planted across her face.

Leah was always solemn before games. She was a serious contender, North London bred, with a serious competitive nature that no one could break down.

When you moved to Arsenal from your childhood club, you instantly caught onto Leah’s prominent soberness. Every player knew that if they didn't show up for a game and give it their all, their position would falter. It wasn't like any player with a job as a professional ever thought to underperform, but Leah was an exemption from sincerity. You couldn't joke with her the same way you could during team bonding. You would be stupid to slack off during training or talk to an exaggerated extent when Leah was running beside you. The Lioness Captain copped none of it, and there was no exception for you, her girlfriend.

The woman had woken up with an eminent frown playing on her lips. This was arguably the most important game of the WSL season, and with Leah starting after a long time away, there was a newfound angst set in your shared apartment.

Not only that — the stress Leah had put on herself to perform exceptionally — but the media spotlight Chelsea’s Emma Hayes has put on herself after a certain interview regarding coach-player, and player-player relationships.

From your viewpoint, it didn't really affect you. Everyone had their own opinions based on who dated whom. There was no stopping someone for sharing what they thought, so you simply shook it off as soon as you watched the clip. You did feel bad for the select few of the Blue’s team that were dating players. To not have the personal backing of your coach wouldn't be the most relieving sensation. You knew that the fans were in upheaval regarding her comments, but to be honest, there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

But, it seemed that Leah did not share the same insight as you.

“She can't just go ‘round saying that.” She barked, hiding the Emirates logo as she crossed her arms in disapproval. “It's barmy, that's what it is.”

You were side by side in the change rooms. Leah was already in her kit, the Chelsea socks sticking out like a sore thumb. You were tugging up your shorts, your shirt yet to cover your sports bra. You sighed, having been hearing Leah go on for the best part of the morning.

“You shouldn't let it worry you, Lee.” You muttered, sorting through your bag, ignoring your girlfriend’s huff. “I don't think she meant any harm—”

“Well she did, didn't she?” She retorted.

You pulled your jersey off the hanger, slipping it on. “Leah, c’mon.”

“Why does she feel the need to talk about us, huh? She should be more worried about the amount of injuries on her team, not about what they do in their free time.”

“Leah, that's enough.” You snapped, your hands planted firmly on your hips. The blonde in front of you looked subtly started by your sudden change of demeanour. “Don't worry about it. It's not worth your time.”

You were currently faced with the nerves of the game, on top of other things like international duties, and the Olympics. To have Leah in this mood, in such a critical time like this, was not only overwhelming but downright anxiety-inducing.

Leah didn't answer you. Instead, she tied her laces and crossed the room, exiting into the tunnel for kick-off. This gave you a few minutes to breathe, to centre yourself. You weren't starting, but your nerves were rising by the time you took your seat next to Alessia.

As soon as the game started, it was clear that Chelsea had it covered. Alessia joked that it was the socks, but you could see by the look on Lee’s face that she was fuming from something other than the odd black that covered her shin pads. You warmed up along the sideline, carrying Caitlin’s bug by your side when you saw her growing restless near Frida.

Unlike the rest of your teammates, you bit their nails at the painful game in front of them, you tried to hone your focus on keeping Bug’s hood down, making her giggle instead of wince at the tackles Caitlin was receiving.

You had been benched for the past few games, your hamstring giving you grief over training. But you were anticipating Jonas to call you over. You waited for the flick of his hand, wanting to make things right on the pitch.

The second-half whistle couldn't have come slower. The starting eleven were frustrated, angry, and quiet when entering the changing rooms, an eerie aura lingering inside. You held onto Bug all the way until Caitlin took over, trudging over to Viv, who happily took the girl up to the stands to watch. Jonas had told you and Emily that you’d be put on, so you were preparing yourself for what was to come.

You tried not to interact with Leah. It was an unspoken rule that unless it was personal, it was not to be said directly, especially when you were losing. But the blonde was leaning nearer to you the closer you were meant to be out on the pitch once more. She made the effort to tug at the hem of your shorts, and hold both your shoulders as she stood behind you, listening to the plan for the rest of the game. You pushed your back into her chest, letting her hug you from behind. She squeezed affectionately, and you noticed the subtle unravelling of her tense shoulders. Her features smoothed when she found out you were replacing Victoria in the midfield, and she made sure to hold your hand as you walked back into the stadium.

“You're doing great, Lee.” You managed to say, hoping that your substitution would be before the sixtieth minute. “Just be careful near the wing. It's very congested and you should wait for the midfield to sort it, alright?”

Leah cared deeply about her career and strived for greatness in all that she did. There was nothing that she couldn't achieve without perfection in her eyes. Many people said that you would bring her down to Earth, and remind her that mistakes are human. But there was only so much you could do, and you found that simply telling the girl that she was making the right decisions, treating her softly, was a tactic no game plan could ever beat.

You were about to find your way down the sidelines, getting ready to finish your warm-up before you were subbed on. Both teams had started filing out of their respected halftime seminars, Chelsea looking as confident as ever. Arsenal were sauntering out with much determination, the spite and inherent desire for justice spewing from the gunner’s crowd. Leah and you were near the entrance of the tunnel, standing on the edge of the field in what seemed like your own personal bubble.

Jonas had taken a seat near the rest of the officials, but Chelsea’s Emma Hayes was standing not far from where the two of you stood, skimming her surroundings vaguely without giving too much away. You could feel the irritation radiating off Leah as soon as the woman was in your sight. You both knew the coach was trying to look at you, without it being bitterly obvious, but it seemed to make the tension rise all the more. Your girlfriend found solace in kissing your forehead, running her hands down your sides painstakingly slow. You felt your cheeks go red, the blush filming over your face when Hayes’ eyes darted away.

“Leah.” You warned her wandering hands, squirming in the taller girl’s potent grip around your hips.

You pulled taunt against her, sighing when she loosened. She ignored your scolding look. A smirk was aligned on her lips, threatening to spill the cocky remarks relieving her lips. You watched her run over to the rest of the team, a meek smile matching hers.

God, you couldn't wait to go home.

_________________

A/N — again, sorry it's really short but I wanted to put something out xxxxxx

[chelscait]

what about like a blurb on r being obsessed with just lightly smacking lessi’s butt whenever she walks past (jokingly or not 🫣) and then she does it one time infront of their teammates and all they get for the rest of the day is teasing from them

in the doghouse. | Alessia Russo (kinda changed this because I've done one similar with Alexia)

"Y/N, I can feel your stare, stop it."

You heard the distant voice of your girlfriends as she bent over to scrummage in the cupboard, looking for whatever cooking tool she needed.

"Not looking." You lied, cheek in the palm of your hand as your phone slipped out of the other, cheekily scanning your eyes all over her from where you sat at the kitchen counter.

She turned her head to face you, still bent over, and she caught you in the making. Your own eyes raising to hers before giving her a smile, she rolled her eyes and went back to digging for the item and you enjoyed the show.

She got what she was looking for out about 10 minutes ago, but you weren't that nice to tell her so.

Your relationship was new, the longing looks and insufferable pining had been going on for ages but you didn't make a move until it was announced she was moving to arsenal. The team you were currently at.

The statement is that you were friends with benefits turned; 'let's give it a chance, I really fucking like you and your ass is a bit of me.' (you didn't say that but that's how it went.)

The first training session, you both didn't entirely hide the concept around you both but you most definitely didn't make it obvious, you didn't want to make Lessi uncomfortable on her first day- especially when she barely knew anyone.

Your teammates had their suspicions though, you were always tagging along her side and they spotted your touch laid on her a bit too long for it to just be friendly, but again they took it as something else because they knew you liked to make a big deal of making people know that your girlfriend is yours.

Even though Alessia had put the no touching at training rule to the extent of serious, you didn't mind it as much as you thought. She was your girl and you were sure she knew it too. You loved watching her interact with the girls you had known all your life, but there were some that couldn't follow the rule that she had set up for yourself.

They were innocent, but it made your blood boil slightly. In training, at lunch, in the gym- any sort of closeness to her, that you couldn't get, made your jaw clench. It made you want to break the rule so badly, but you knew you'd get a lecture.

Throughout the first weeks, you were starting to get eggy, touch deprived (even though you get it at home.)

The gym was the worst time of day because Less usually liked the idea of having a spot whenever she was using weights, and she told you specifically no whenever you took up the topic at home. It was even worse when she was doing squats with them too, back facing you as you sat trying desperately not to watch as you couldn't be the one next to her.

You watched the eyes of your teammate spotting her, making sure they weren't suggestive around the activity as well as staring at Alessia- mind wandering to other things as you scoped out the scene.

Until a hand on the small of her back, that wasn't your own, caught your attention- your posture straightening up as you watched as they chatted, Alessia moving away slightly to let it drop but you didn't care, already moving across the room towards her.

"I'll take it from here, go do your routine." You looked the girl up and down, nodding your head for her to leave so you could take her place. She looked at you as if you had grown two heads, Less glaring at the side of your head also.

"No, don't go. Stay. Y/N.."

"What? I'm just letting her get on with what she needs to do, I'm taking a job off her hands." Exaggerating the grin on your face, you stepped back so she could leave- which she did in the space of three seconds.

"Why are you making this harder for me?" She scolded in a hushed voice, hair spilling out of the usual tight bun she wore.

"I should be asking you that."

"Give it a rest, its two hours." She spat as she went back to what she was doing, yourself groaning as you struggled to keep your eyes away, she knew what she was doing.

You saw as she struggled and you lightly pressed a hand against the small of her back and she stared at you in warning, knowing that the whole team was in here and has already seen you make a scene.

"I'm being serious, we are not alone." She huffed and you smirked, hand trailing down slowly and she had no choice but to drop what she was doing and push your wrist away.

"Stop!" She spoke through gritted teeth before leaving you where you were, an oblivious expression plastered on your face.

Alessia trudged over to where a few girls were sitting and snatched a water bottle from its place, her cheeks hot with fluster. She caught gaze of Victoria staring straight at her, lips curled in a smirk.

"What?"

She shook her head as she turned to the other girls, all giggling amongst each other. Alessia knew not to take it the wrong way but she felt one-sided at this rate, huffing as she turned to move elsewhere- finding that everyone else was watching her also, so she evacuated the room.

You were just as insufferable in training, unluckily for her she had been put in a group opposite you and of course football is a high-contact sport so she had your hands all over her as you tried to defend against her. You used the opportunity to all extent- if you weren't going to tell your teammates, you were definitely going to show them if they can't get the hint.

"Stop what you are doing, Y/N. This isn't funny." She spoke through gritted teeth as she has somehow found herself on top of you for the 3rd time, her neck flushing as you sat up with her still in your lap before she scrambled off of you.

She once again cowered as the girls looked at you both and she turned back to glare at you once more before returning to her position. You allowed her to slam a few goals in to release some steam, just so you weren't entirely in the dog house.

Alessia had began walking back to the changing rooms with no time to spare and you eyes followed her as she did so.

"Do you like her or something, Y/N?" Katie popped up beside you, a cheeky grin on her face as she watched your expression.

"Nah, she likes me.. isn't it obvious?" You joked as you crossed your arms over your chest with a smirk before moving to catch up with your girlfriend.

You attached your arm around the blondes neck, herself relaxing slightly before she recognises whom it was with their arm over her and she moves out of your touch.

"Stop making it obvious, I can't take the looks much longer."

"You're the one that's bringing it on yourself, honey. I'm just being friendly." You shrugged, noticing all the girls catching up to you.

"You're so annoying." She huffed before moving again and you couldn't help yourself but push her final button and do what you had been wanting to do all day.

She gasped as you committed the action, backing away as she turned around with an incredulous look. You snorted at what she looked like and she began to move towards you.

"That's it, you're on the sofa tonight!" She screamed as she ran after you, before her clumsy self tackled you both to the ground.

"It's funny how they don't know that we already know."

"Yeah, Tooney has a big mouth."

wowww me posting my request(s) from yonks agooo

[theta-walti]

Shy

Summary: R and Lucy are in love but both scared that the other won’t like them back. The team send Lucy to convince R to go to team bonding and ended up her confessing her feeling to R

Warnings: none

A/N: First time Writing Lucy bronze! I really liked writing her! Feel free to send in more requests!

Word count: 1.5k

Every day is the same. You wake up at 6, take a shower, do yoga, make breakfast, and drive to training at 9. You have a routine, and you like to stick to it. You're always on time, never early, never late. When you arrive at training, you walk straight into the changing rooms with your headphones in and start to get changed. Your cubby is just next to Mapi and Ingrid's, and they know not to talk to you in the mornings. It's an unspoken rule that everyone knows: you don't talk to anyone until training starts. If you have extra time, your teammates will often find you sitting in your cubby, reading a book. To you, it has always been like this, and it will always stay like this.

But today feels different somehow. As you go through your usual routine, there's a lingering feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you feel like something is going to happen today, and you don't like that feeling.

When you arrive at the training grounds, you follow your usual routine and head to the changing room to get changed. The atmosphere seems normal, or at least you think it does.

You start to get changed, with your headphones in, unable to hear the discussion going on in the room.

"Do you think she's gonna show up?" Patri asks, sitting in her cubby and trying the laces on her boots.

"She has to; it's team bonding night," Pina answers, glancing at you. You don't notice her; it's like you're in your own little bubble.

"Do you think she knows it's team bonding tonight?" Patri shoots back with a raised brow.

It's true; you're famous for skipping any team bonding nights or gatherings on the team. Usually, you just stay at home and read, no matter how your teammates beg you to go.

"I think she knows, but I bet she'll just say no like last time or the times before," Ona chips in as she ties her hair in a ponytail.

Just after Ona finishes her sentence, you take your headphones off, and the changing rooms become quiet. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion at the silence; usually, there would be chatting, and the room would be full of noise, but somehow, it's quiet today. It adds to your suspicion that something is happening today that you don't know about. Unknown to your or Lucy, your teammates had set up a plan to confess your feelings to each other, theor plan was to send Lucy to ask if you are going to team bonding night and hopefully you two and talk and sort out your feeling with each other, unknown to all of this you just flashed Lucy a smile and walked out of the changing rooms. Their plan was in place. The first step was convincing Lucy to go ask you if you wanted to go to team bonding night. They all shared glances before someone spoke up.

"So, who's going to ask her?" Patri says, sitting down as they still have some extra time before training starts.

"She'll definitely say no to me," Aitana claims.

"Me too." "And me." "She'll say no to me too," the rest of the team agrees.

"That means we need someone that y/n trusts enough to say yes to," Mapi says, looking around, lost in thought. Next to her, Ingrid notices something. "Lucy has been awfully quiet."

Lucy's head shoots up at her name. "Sorry?"

Patri and Pina start to smirk as an idea comes into their heads.

"You're going to ask y/n if she wants to go to team bonding tonight," Pina speaks up among the two of them.

"No, I'm not. She'll say no, just like the other times."

"How would you know?"

"Why am I the one who is doing it?" Lucy asks, trying to avoid the question.

"Because you're the one she trusts the most," Ona exclaims.

"No, I'm not," Lucy argues back.

"Yes, you are! You two are so close; you're practically in love! It's so obvious," Aitana says, crossing her arms.

"I'm not in love with y/n."

"Oh, don't pretend I'm blind. I see the way you look at y/n, and I see the way y/n looks at you," Patri says, crossing her arms. "In fact, we all see the way you look at each other, plus you spend more time with her than any of us do."

"No, I don't! You can't prove that!" Lucy says, trying to defend herself by denying it, but deep down, she knows that she has fallen for you. Hearing that you like her back, her heart skips a beat.

You and Lucy always partner up together on training days or sit together on the bus. You always put your head on her shoulder when you feel sleepy; whenever that happens, Lucy dares not move and only wakes you up when the bus stops. She's the one who calms you when you're freaking out. You are the person that's on her mind 24/7. So she's pretty sure that she's in love. She is just scared that you like her back.

"I have so much evidence," Patri chuckles as she shakes her head.

"So are you going to do it, Lucy? Are you going to ask her if she wants to go to team bonding tonight?" Frido speaks up, the first time in the changing rooms today.

"Yeah, I do want her to come tonight after all. I'll try my best. If she doesn't come tonight, it will not be my fault," Lucy warns as she starts to walk out of the changing rooms.

Step one done, now on to step two: talk to you and make you realise that you are in love with Lucy.

Ona slipped out of the room silently and went to go find you. She knows that it will be pushing your boundaries. You don't talk to anyone before training starts. Hopefully, you won't get mad at her after this.

She found you jogging laps around the field slowly, she waited till you reached to a certain point of the field and she joined in

"Hi" she said, a bit nervous of what's going to happen

"Hey Ona," you answer back politely while you continue to jog

"You alright?" Ona was really bad at this. She did not think beforehand of what she was going to say, so now she's just stuck at an awkward moment between you and her.

"Yea," you stop jogging and turn to face her. "Is there something you need?"

Ona stopped too as she spoke up, "Are you going to team bonding tonight?" She already knows your answers are going to be no. But maybe she can open the conversation like that?

"No, sorry, l'm busy tonight" you words come out your mouth mechanically, like you have answered this question lots and lots of times before, you have! Hence your reputation on the team.

"Lucy's gonna be there tonight. Are you sure that you don't want to go?"

As Lucy's name has been mentioned, you raised your eyebrow. "What has Lucy got to do with all of this?"

Ona thought for a while. She really hadn't prepared for this. "Errr, maybe you guys can talk? And have fun?"

You got more amused by the second. "Are you saying that you want me to be there because Lucy is there?"

"No! I'm just saying that, errrr, maybe because Lucy is there, you wouldn't be awkward!" Ona exclaimed. The sentences were just on the top of her head, rushed.

"Maybe not, me and Lucy are just friends, l don't think she wants to spend the night with me by her side, anyways, she's got Keira, didn't she?"

Just friends? Nooo, you and Lucy are not "just friends." You guys are practically in love every time you see each other.

"No, Keira isn't coming tonight, so Lucy is all alone, so you should come. Don't want her to be all alone now, do we"

"I don't think she even likes me enough to want me to be there, just leave it, Ona." You are in love with Lucy, of cause you are, and you know that, but Lucy is always with Keira. You know that they were close as they went through England EUROs win together, Lucy will always be closer to Keira than you will ever be to her. You bet that she doesn't even like you that way. Maybe it'll just be another silly like your other ones.

Just ad you, the conversation finished, and Ona left you alone. Lucy spots you on one of the benches on the field, looking sad, she desided to make her way over, a concerned expression on her face, unknown to her the sad emotion was just caused by the subject of her just moments ago.

"Hey, are you okay?" Lucy asks, her voice gentle as she studies you.

You offer her a small smile, trying to push aside your own worries. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just… a bit under the weather and not feeling like going out tonight." Knowing it is team bonding night, you felt a bit shy. You don't want to go out. You just want to stay home after a long day of training.

Lucy's gaze softens, and she reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. "I get that. But hey, maybe it'll be good for you to get out and have some fun."

You nod, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. Despite Lucy's reassurance, you can't shake off the feeling of dread that has settled over you.

As the team begins to gather for training, you find yourself retreating into your shell even further. You focus on the familiar routine of warming up and getting ready, avoiding eye contact with anyone around you. But then, just as you're about to slip away into your own thoughts, Lucy appears in front of you, her presence impossible to ignore.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?" Lucy asks, her voice hesitant but determined. Maybe she finally wants to say what she held off in the changing rooms?

You nod, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension bubbling up inside you. "Sure, what's up?"

Lucy takes a deep breath, her gaze meeting yours with a newfound intensity. "I… I just wanted to say that… I really like you. And I'm scared that maybe you don't feel the same way."

And as you stand there, hand in hand with Lucy, all your fears and anxieties melt away, replaced by the comforting certainty that you have found someone who understands you like no one else ever has. From that moment on, you know that nothing will ever be the same again.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, and you feel a rush of emotions swirling inside you. "Lucy, I… I like you too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

A relieved smile spreads across Lucy's face, and she reaches out to take your hand in hers and leans in closer. "I'm so glad to hear that. And hey, we don't have to go out tonight if you don't want to. We can just stay in and be together."

You blush and look down, but Lucy gently tilts your chin up to meet her eyes, and your face turns even redder. "Can I kiss you?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. You simply nod, and as your lips meet, it's a short but absolutely magical kiss. You grin as you pull away.

"Come on, let's go back before the others wonder where we've gone."

As you walk back to the field with Lucy, your heart is filled with contentment and happiness. Aitana sees that you're back and starts to approach you.

"So, are you coming to team bonding tonight?" she says with excitement in her voice.

Upon hearing the question, you smile softly and look over to Lucy, who is now talking to Alexia.

"Yeah"

A/N: l hope you enjoyed this! I love Lucy Bronze and will definitely write her again! Thank you for the request! This is Theta signing out! See you next time!

[obae-me]

Random Sibling Headcanons

I'm a wee bit sick, which is why I've put my more serious projects on a very short pause. That being said I still feel the need to write something, so why not get some ideas out in the form of little fun ideas? Featuring colored names this time because it's fun for my brain.

These are just some little headcanons I like to think the brothers have done, since I love thinking of their sibling/ at-home relationships with each other.

In the picture of Lucifer's office, he seems to have stairs heading up to a second-story loft of some sort. I've always imagined he has a "Pride" wall somewhere up there filled with memorabilia of his brother's greatest or proudest achievements. There's some photos, art pieces, awards his siblings gave up on keeping, etc. His brothers know about it but hate it, so they all never speak of it.

Mammon and Levi once both badly injured their hands, trying to outdo each other high-fiving. You know where you try to get that perfect smack and hurt the other person's palm? Yeah, like that. They whiffed it on the first try and had to do it again and just couldn't stop after that.

Belphie usually puts small portions of his dirty clothes into his brother's hampers so they can clean his clothes for him without them realizing. It drives them all wild having to sort it out each time, and Belphie thrives off of it.

One of Satan's favorite pranks was to quickly run around the whole house and use up every hot water source he can while Lucifer was taking a shower so his water turns ice cold while the eldest is still in it. It got to the point where Lucifer is actually fine taking cold showers now.

If a bunch of them are in the same room and one of them gets a call from Lucifer, the others will suddenly try to sound like something horrible is going on, more often than not trying to incriminate the person who picked up the phone, blaming them for some false scenario that never happened.

If Belphie gets woken up too many times in the same day, he'll find ways to wake his siblings up in the middle of the night. Once he managed to get into all their phones and set annoyingly loud alarms, another night he cursed the piano in the music room to play until morning. Now the brothers have an unspoken rule not to wake their youngest sibling up more than four times a day.

Asmo likes to barge into his siblings' rooms sometimes unannounced with his D.D.D. while he's live on Devilgram or Deviltube. He loves to catch his brother's doing something stupid, it's hilarious. Sometimes he's not even live, he's just recording so he can keep videos to laugh over later.

They trade chores often, much to Lucifer's frustration, but everyone has some chores they absolutely can't stand. They've even somehow come up with a bartering system of sorts. Laundry = 1 other chore like dusting, but something like Dishes = 2 chores like taking on laundry and vacuuming.

None of them have ever missed one of Beel's games. They always show up and sit in the same spots so Beel never has to look around for them in the crowd. Lucifer brings the bag of supplies and snacks should his siblings need it. Because they always end up complaining about something by the end of the night. Mammon always brings his megaphone that almost always gets in him trouble every time. Levi gives his brothers all glowsticks. Satan always secretly has tricks up his sleeve to use against the opposing team should any of them come close to harming Beel (although that's nearly impossible, but he has them as a precaution). Asmo made everyone the most beautiful signs to hold. And Belphie brings everyone blankets since it can get chilly in the stands. He also brings a big lunchbox of snacks for Beel to eat right after the game even though they always go out to eat right after.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi as the three eldest are used to giving their younger siblings things they no longer need. The younger four have plenty of hand-me-downs but more often then not, they don't really mind. Lucifer gives out anything he's not overtly a fan of which can be anything from books to cologne to jewelry. Everyone has a few old things of his. Mammon gives out a bunch of clothes quite frequently. Despite his greed, his room can only hold so much, and so he usually goes through a semi-regular purge. Anything his brothers don't grab he sells. Levi gives out old electronics since he upgrades to the newest stuff as soon as he can. Because of this, Satan owns a pair of cat-ear headphones.

On a trip to the human world once, Asmo bought Belphie one of those electronic toothbrushes that play a song in your head while you brush your teeth so the youngest no longer falls asleep during brushing. Yes, it was a Brittany Spears one. (Does this date me? Maybe. Do they even make those anymore?)

Mammon and Asmo have both sat Beel down and tried to give him a basic course on recognizing flirting to keep their younger brother from being so totally oblivious, but no matter how many times they try, he never notices. However, now if Beel is ever given a random phone number, he knows to take it to either of those two to sort it out for him.

Once, for Belphie's birthday he received the ugliest quilt made from little squares from his brother's t-shirts, pillowcases, robes, etc. They all worked together to sew it up and it's very, very obvious who did what parts. Belphie says he can't stand the awful thing but sleeps with it every night.

[renthony]

Animation (specifically 2D animation) is my preferred TV/film medium. A piece of live-action has to go above and beyond to get over my personal bias of, "most things would be better if they were animated," but it's taken me a long time to figure out what, exactly, makes a piece of live-action really do it for me.

I think what it really comes down to, for me, is the little details. If your live-action doesn't have some level of nuanced physical acting, intense detailing in costuming and set design, a strong sense of visual storytelling, or kickass practical effects, I'm pretty much always going to come away thinking, "I'd like it better as a cartoon."

I think some of this is due to my issues with face blindness--I need characters to have distinct silhouette and costuming, or they will all blur together in my head. Animation tends to stress the importance of silhouette, so I have an easier time telling everyone apart and following who's who. That's not to say that this problem doesn't happen in animation, or that it always happens in live action, but I do think it contributes to my personal preferences.

Anyway, just for fun, a random shortlist of some live-action that I think uses its medium well:

Child's Play/Chucky. Half the appeal of Chucky (IMHO) is the incredible showcase of practical effects and animatronics. Each incarnation of the Chucky doll incorporates incredible advances in animatronic and puppeteering technology. I have on multiple occasions compared the Chucky puppeteer team to Muppet performers. That shit is its own art form, and it's incredible. The current Chucky show makes some use of CGI, but it's all to enhance the practical effects, and the puppeteers are all given the spotlight in the show's credits. I love that.

Killjoys. The incredible nuance to the actors' body and facial acting is mind-blowing. The set design and costuming are gorgeous, and there's a lot of very good detail worked into the visual space that would be hard to animate. They use their CGI well when they do use it, but a significant amount of the show seems to be practical effects and props. Additionally, Hannah John-Kamen's ability to flawlessly portray multiple characters is so good it's uncanny and makes you forget they're literally being played by the same woman. She changes her entire body language, and it's phenomenal.

Jordan Peele's entire body of horror. His films pack in so much symbolism and subtlety that I could probably watch them all a million times and still find new details. The nuance in the acting, the sheer detail packed into the costuming and set design, the use of color...god. It's unreal.

Crimson Peak, because the set design for that film...holy fuck. The costuming and set design in that film are pure gold. The acting is also phenomenal, but I could probably talk about the set design for hours. The house is a character in its own right.

Galavant and Our Flag Means Death, both for the same reason: both shows feel like I'm hanging out at a ren faire being goofy with my friends. They feel like I'm watching a LARP. They feel like they could easily exist in the same setting as Muppet Treasure Island, and at any second Kermit is going to show up and start singing, and it wouldn't be out of place at all. I think I'd also include Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves in this category, along with The Princess Bride and Labyrinth--all of which also include kickass practical effects, choreography, and costuming.

This isn't some sort of objective truth or anything. I just like that I've finally been able to nail down some reasons why I prefer animation, beyond just, "idk, cartoons are fun."

[barefoothighlander]

spillways - panic

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: mentions of ptsd, angst, bit ooc!ghost

-word count: 1.5k

-summary: after a year of working loosely alongside the 141, you are deployed on your first ground mission. trying to navigate having to work with a team and your lieutenant who seems set on getting a rise out of you.

next chapter fic masterlist

a/n: alright so I'm planning on making this a slow burn, we'll see how long that lasts, I'm trying so hard to be normal about ghost but at the same time I can't so, here you go. :)

I wonder to myself, 

could life ever be sane again?

You thrust yourself awake, alarm bells ringing in your head, something was wrong, something felt off. Faced with the darkness of your bedroom you shift your weight to glance around, nothing out of place, no noises aside from the occasional car alarm, but the buzzing, the buzzing was loud. Your head filled with the buzzing that seemed to have no end and no beginning, turning over you see the time, 3:44 am, staring back at you with that obnoxious, bright red gleam, sighing to yourself 2 hours of sleep isn’t so bad. 

Raising yourself from the bed you’re met with a cold breeze shit, the window was open, striding towards the wall to close it with a loud thud, you hated this apartment, it was old, nothing worked, and the floors creaked under any sort of movement, it didn’t feel like home. You manage the strength to walk to the kitchen and turn on a lamp, growing accustomed to residing in low light, rarely did you ever have your space fully illuminated. You pour yourself a cup of coffee and begin your day, you didn’t have much to do around the apartment considering the only thing on your agenda was to show up to base for deployment, but you still had 4 hours to kill. You occupied yourself with meaningless tasks, tidying the living space even though it had barely anything in it, you had bought the apartment 3 years ago but spent less than 9 months actually living there, it was simply a means of habitat between deployments. Truthfully you don’t know what to do with yourself if you aren’t off in some desert, or mountain range on a mission.

Finally, the clock read 7:15, you figured you had waited an adequate amount of time pacing around the apartment, so you got dressed in some casual clothes that were appropriate for any form of the tactical situation, grabbed your bag and left for the base. You made the drive often enough that it felt like your brain was on autopilot, muscle memory telling you where to turn and when. But you were right, something was off, the buzzing in your head was persistent, and your thoughts ran rampant, usually, you were halfway decent at getting your mind to quiet down, focusing it on whatever task you were assigned, but without some sort of obstacle, you found anxiety begin to bubble in your stomach. You weren’t nervous, not for a standard op, you had run through missions like this a handful of times, and you knew what to expect, what you needed to do, this was something else. Were you nervous to work directly with the 141? You had been assigned a posting with them for a little over a year now, but you never worked with them, only ever as the eye in the sky, providing aid only when deemed necessary, this time you would be on the ground with them, working with them, surviving with them.

Your thoughts occupied your time, and when you reached the base you felt like you had only been driving for 5 minutes. 7:47, enough time to sneak in, you weren’t close with the team, not like how they were with each other, they often invited you to the local pub after a successful mission but you always declined, giving them some excuse along the lines of you being too tired to stay out, most of the time they wouldn’t argue, but you could always feel a gaze staring daggers at the back of your head when you decided to not spend time with them. They meant well, you could tell, but you weren’t looking for another person to ask about your history, or why you joined the force, and you certainly weren’t looking for any sympathy, reducing yourself to a life of seclusion outside deployment.

You made your way to the briefing room, stunned to see that almost everyone was already there, everyone except one person, the only other person who found any sort of comfort in the shadows alongside you, the Ghost. Price waited another few minutes while the guys entertained themselves, recalling a few drunken stories they found amusing, Soap explaining to Gaz why he’s banned from 6 separate pubs in Manchester alone. At 7:56 you saw the door open, and the unmistakable mask breeze in, he was hard to miss, tall and broad, but quiet, always quiet. He found his place near the back of the room, settling himself to lean against a desk.

Turning your attention to Price, trying to focus on the information he was presenting, something about a cartel, and illegal weapons trading in Mexico. You couldn’t focus, not with the buzzing in your head, you tried your best, Ghost noticing the way you constantly adjusted your stance to try to hear Price better. Finally, the brief ended, and you could barely remember a thing the Captain had said aside from “meet at the heli deck 1600 hours.” Inching forward to grab a folder from the table so you could actually study what the assignment was, you felt a strong hand grab your elbow. Glancing up, Ghost was there, invading your space.

“You alright Sargeant?”

“Fine Leuitenent, why?”

“You seem agitated or something” He releases his grip on your elbow as he feels your muscles tense.

“Just tired, didn’t sleep well”

“I know the feeling, go rest, you have time” is all he says, and then he leaves.

You stop for a minute, fiddling with the edges of the folder in your hands, the buzzing is gone is all you can think, as you turn around to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s gone. 

For the first time today, your thoughts are clear, no alarm bells, no buzzing, there’s clarity, and you don’t know why. You chalk it up to the difference in humidity, or atmosphere around the base. But even in the clarity, you can’t sleep, you tried, laying down on your cot for nearly an hour, trying to will your body to rest, but it was useless, it’s hard to rest when you’re always in survival mode. Instead, you decide to take your efforts to the gym on base, choosing to put your thoughts to some use and beat the hell out of a punching bag.

Your knuckles are sore, your legs are cramping up, and you can begin to taste iron in your mouth, but none of these stop you. You continue your assault on the oversized bag of sand, forcing every ounce of energy into your punches and kicks.

“Thought I told you to rest” You didn’t hear him come in, but now, standing directly behind you, he’s hard to miss.

You keep facing away from him, centring the bag in front of you. “Couldn’t, thought my time was better spent here”

“You defied a superior's orders then?”

“A suggestion and an order are different Leuitenent”

“You always talk back? Tsk, that’s bad manners love” he asks, raising his arm to settle the bag in front of you, almost commanding your attention.

You turn to face him, finding his body much closer than you thought, you crane your neck to look into his eyes, they’re shrouded in black paint, his face concealed by the skull. 

“You don’t intimidate me, sir”

“Why not, every other bloke on this base is terrified of me,” he says leaning down a little, enough so that you can feel the warmth of his breath over your cheek.

You press your lips to his covered ear, making sure he hears you loud and clear.

“I see right through the mask,” you say, as you pull yourself back to stare into his dark eyes, and for a moment, you swear you see the telltale signs of a smile from the crinkles that form beside his eyes.

“I’ll see you on deck Sargeant” is all he says, striding away from you and down the hallway.

You stand there, breathless, you’ve never spoken to anyone that way, let alone a superior officer, but you won’t let him scare you, at the end of the day he’s just another man, made of flesh and bone, he bleeds the same colour as the rest of them.

You return to your shacks to rinse off whatever sweat you worked up. Stepping out and checking the time, 3:30, shit, how long was I in the shower for. Quickly gathering your necessary equipment for travel you make your way to the deck, only to be greeted by the loud whirring of helicopter blades, and the booming laughter of one Soap Mactavish.

“Ye ready for some fun lass?” Soap asks placing a firm hand on your shoulder.

Before you get the chance to respond Ghost once again appears out of nowhere.

“No time to waste, get packed in”

Soap glances at you but your eyes are set firm on the Leuitenent, while little feelings of anger begin to form in your chest. Removing his hand from your shoulder, Soap steps into the heli and seats himself next to some of the other guys. You situate yourself near the back of the carrier, far enough that no one would attempt to make conversation with you. To your dismay, Ghost plants himself directly next to you, close enough that your knees are forced to touch. You’re willing him to move, and he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction. 

This is gonna be a long ride.

[georgiapeach30513]

I'll be honest, while Deuxmoi always and still does post a ton of BS, thanks to the development of this never-ending saga...I'm starting to really feel like she's been used intentionally to push this narrative along all the way from the very beginning. Aka 2021.

A very out there theory but hear me out: Early on, the fandom had the general consensus DM was BS. Especially in regards to CE. Because DM was the one that first started spreading his super secret GF nonsense back in 2021, right before the introduction of Soba Saga. Her almost nonsensical rants about her having legit sources on this secret GF - while doing weekly podcasts where she insisted she never got any intel on him because his circle was so tight knit (interesting how that suddenly changed out of nowhere when someone showed up) - just made her seem like crazy cat lady gossip conspiracy Marjorie Taylor Greene on steroids.

She was the first to post that "dating Soba for over a year and everyone in PT/her circle knows about it" in early 2022.

They go public in late 2022. 2023 There's some Sunday Spotted (I could be wrong) vDAY post about CE and "fiancé" being seen in town at dinner (sounds very similar to the most recent vDay sighting). That was about 10 months before the super secret wedding and there had been no announcement of being engaged, minus the Tumblr blogs and random third rate tabloids and troll twitter accounts passing on the rumors. DM starts spreading around the same time some Tumblr blogs get the intel about secret engagement, wedding, rift in the family, people on his side not liking Soba, etc. Eventually it is revealed DM was right all along???? In a complete turn of events her credibility goes from zero to 1 (grudgingly of course, while she continues to spill BS daily)

Meanwhile, DM gets the first RPatz sighting with Scarlett and crew at dinner. Nobody believed it - as Nancy mentioned, it just seemed too farfetched with the way that restaurant was set up.

Then in early 2024 we get an actual RPatz sighting with with Soba/CE, and separately, sightings with Scarlett and Colin. Now there's more "credibility" to that random other sighting even if it still can't be proven.

Now...possible project with RPatz and CE's name circulating. Maybe just gossip fodder, maybe some truth to it. Time will tell. Coincidences once again.

DM gets the sighting of CE in LA with Russos. He actually confirms that one himself a month later.

Simultaneously, DM gets random sightings of CE doing other stuff where soba is not mentioned. Nobody knows really what to believe anymore.

But for every 15 BS things she posts, she actually gets 1-2 right. It starts to completely make her a hit or miss source but enough to get people riled up and worried if/when she gets something related to CE/Soba.

In a way, this strategy, if it were to have any salt to it, is kinda interesting. It also sort of enforces the idea of possible foul play. Because if CE is truly in such a happy, private, loveful relationship, why use somebody as uncouth as DM to throw out breadcrumbs? Especially since, in the past, his fanbase and most Tumblr blogs believed it was only legit if it came from someone like People Mag (his team's go-to). Ironically, Page 6 has been getting most of the exclusive scoops this time around, in addition to weird low rate tabloids that eventually make its way to the top.

I know I sound like crazy qanon conspiracy theorist, but I guess people see what they wanna see. But for the people who believe this relationship isn't as genuine as some want to believe, it kind of tracks that somebody's PR team pushing this out in ways to sort of make you wonder, question, and push back on the validity. Just enough to make you think, maybe, maybe there's something going on BTS that they're not saying but they're kinda telling. But you'll never know what the truth is. At least not for now.

I do find DM’s role since 2023 to be very interesting indeed. You missed nothing. Not one thing. She’s made herself be credible enough during this, but also, she’s questionable. So of course, take everything she says with a grain of salt.

I made this comment a bit ago to someone else, he still uses People. Who got the Jinx articles first. Think about that for a moment. He. Just him.

As far as the last paragraph, what I will say is celebrities need to be talked about. Good or bad, they need the press. They need to be in the front of people’s minds. What better way to have them in people’s minds, and to have fans talk about something long past their expiration date than by playing a game. PR has become such a hot topic word, and I think very few people even understand it. But to me, if you’re having to play so many games, what really is real? Live your life. Isn’t that what we continue to be told they’re doing?

[spiderrmax]

raccoon & friends x sidekick reader

synopsis: headcanons about how i imagine the raccoon & friends would react to having a sidekick! author's note: freedom pals will eventually get their own post :) also, like all my other works this isn't proof read if you see any mistakes no you didn't.

The Raccoon

The way you become his sidekick is probably out of your hands. Since he sees himself as the leader and you as the new kid (which, to be fair, you are), he feels like he has to take you under his wing.

He acts as if it’s a chore, but it is mostly a front. He’s excited to train you, and he genuinely cares about your powers.

Following the events of the game, The Raccoon shows an obvious soft spot for the new kid, and this amplifies when he is “forced” to protect you

The Raccoon doesn’t go on a lot of solo missions that require fighting, he is mostly looking for intel. You are mostly left on guard duty while he steals whatever he was looking for.

He doesn’t like telling you things, but he always caves and tells you anyway. He feels like you listen to him more than the other members, and it’s very obvious he likes you the most. (Similar to how the New Kid gets new classes in the game.)

When, however, the two of you are in battle, he is extremely overprotective. It’s not like you can’t hold your own, he just hates watching you take a punch, which is inevitable. 

You know how in the games characters can be enraged by certain attacks? The Raccoon will hyper focus on the enemy who leaves you bleeding. He doesn’t stop until the enemy is down, so when making battle plans you have to count for his rage.

After battle he will complain about you getting hurt, (“Jeez, if you’re going to stay my sidekick, you need to get better in battle.”) but he won’t let you leave his base without him bandaging you or at least giving you some sort of healing item

Gets jealous if you have to go on a mission without him. Always puts up a fight, that you shouldn’t be without him. Will threaten the superhero you are pairing with for the mission, making them promise to keep a good watch on you. Then will make sure your next mission is with him

Human Kite

Unlike The Raccoon, Human Kite doesn’t even propose the idea of having a sidekick. It’s you who proposes the idea, admitting you think you two make a pretty good team as he is a range fighter where you tend to fight close up.

He’s so flustered that he says yes and then flies off. (He’s so used to people mocking his power/superhero identity that you admitting to admiring him was surprising.)

When Cartman finds out that you asked specifically for Human Kite he tries to persuade you to join him instead; you decline, and Human Kite can’t help but smile at your dedication to being with him.

He takes the role of mentor so seriously. When on missions, you are always in Human Kite’s field of sight. He is always prepared to fly off if the fight is too large for the both of you, but you are too stubborn and will fight anyone who plans to attack.

Constantly is having to heal you on the field. He knows that you aren’t going to die from a few hits, but the guilt of your injuries is heavier now that you are under his protection.

Although, he does agree you two make a good team. You do most of the damage due to the close combat, which allows for Kyle to keep you standing with his healing powers.

He isn’t as dramatic about attacking the enemies that hit you as Cartman is, but will shoot his laser eyes at them at the next opportunity. 

Human Kite is also great for morale. He constantly is motivating you on the battlefield, supporting you as you attack, with small words of encouragement. 

Doesn’t mind if you have to go on missions without him, with your guys’ different skill set and all, but worries so much. Will meet you outside the base to check for any major injuries when you return, scolding you for being so reckless as he wasn’t there to take care of you. 

The Flash

The Flash, similar to Human Kite, has never really desired a sidekick. He always works alone, due to others tending to slow him down. He only really asks for help when it’s dire.

Presuming you are a speedster class hero, he is down to have you on his team! His missions are gaining intel, similar to Cartman’s, and he appreciates sending you on smaller quests that he knows you can tackle due to your similar powers.

Not to say, he wouldn’t accept you if you had selected another class, but there are some downfalls for his main missions. The two of you are a killer duo on the field though, balancing each other's strength and weaknesses 

The Flash always double checks areas before you go in because he knows he can go undetected

After you guys have been working together, anytime he goes on a solo mission he is very aware of how lonely it is. Will go and crack a joke, and only then remembers you aren't there. He gets solo missions done faster, but that doesn't mean he enjoys them

Will race you around for fun! Loves showing off his speed (especially if you aren't a speedster). 

When you're injured and he's forced to carry you back, he speeds up; adrenaline rushing. He hates seeing you injured, and he most likely doesn't carry healing items due to them slowing him down. 

The biggest perk of being his side kick is you are not bound by the limits of the Fastpass. He will take you anywhere (if he isn't busy). The Raccoon complained about this once, but The Flash did not care enough to stop the special treatment. 

Super Craig

Considering he is a brutalist, he'd benefit most from a sidekick who isn't in that class.

However! He did not want a sidekick at first. Unlike Human Kite and The Flash, he saw it as a waste of time. He despised working with people, and would flip the Raccoon off when he tried partnering him up. (Of course, he works with the other heroes. It is also begrudgingly)

So, the first time you ask, he says no. He’s blunt, and doesn’t try to humor you. He has no reason to think you following him around would benefit him in the slightest.

It’s not until he’s in true battle with you – not a small squabble with criminals easily defeated – does he realize how beneficial it is to have you. Where he is often unprepared, you carry items that change the course of the battle, and you willingly share them with him too! You shoot from afar while he’s close-up, and it’s the first time he was thankful someone was there in battle with him.

He has to suck up his pride to reapproach you with the offer, but luckily for him, you don’t torment him with how his backtracking on what he previous said.

He is very silent when you are working together. If you come up with a plan he will follow it, and may even help modify it so it works more efficiently, but he is very quiet on missions. This helps them run smoother; however, after, he is willing to entertain any questions or small talk you have. It may be short responses, but he does enjoy how you fill the once empty night.

Super Craig carried healing items before, due to his close combat nature. However, with working with you, he carries even more. Or, he’ll give you some before you leave on missions so he isn’t weighed down by them. Either way, your health comes before his, and he would not hesitate to give you aid even if he also requires bandaging. 

The Raccoon hates how he has a sidekick. Believes that Craig is the lamest superhero due to his lack of care in concealing his identity. Craig just flips him off anytime he complains, saying that it’s not his fault you didn’t want to work with him.

Mosquito

Mosquito, like the Raccoon, approaches you about it first!

The two of you have been in battle before – especially due to his kryptonite. Despite being charmed and fighting poorly, he can recognize your strength. You have nothing to lose when you are approached with this offer, so luckily for his pride, you say yes.

Despite how he is meant to be making most of the decisions, as comes with the Superhero title, he is always looking for your guidance.

He never makes a choice unless he has thought it out with you. A plan will not be enacted unless he has run it by you and you have done all of the changes you think are necessary.

He also gets extremely nervous when you become injured. He isn’t the strongest hero, and often feels like your sidekick, so seeing you bleeding or limping creates a lot of panic for him.

Mosquito is prone to emotional outbursts – if a mission becomes too stressful, he’s hurt, you’re hurt, it’s late, anything can set him off, really. He needs you to be level-headed, and he would work best with someone who isn’t quick to react emotionally. New Kid in game is often practical, and a similar personality would mesh well for Mosquito.

The Raccoon often sends Mosquito on simpler missions (due to knowing how Mosquito cracks under pressure) but will send you on more complex missions. Mosquito cries so much when you are gone, nervous about what you are doing, if you’re okay. When you return home – after being gone no longer than a day, at the most – he is blubbering in your shoulder that he missed you. He’s very dramatic.

Captain Diabetes

Following along with the game, you are paired up with Captain Diabetes after he is assigned a complex mission.

This isn’t to say he is disappointed! Captain Diabetes is so excited to have you on his team, and takes pride in guiding you along the way.

He is so protective – even if you are technically stronger than he is. He won’t let you into a room without him entering it first and scouting the area out.

Is also really prepared, in comparison to the heroes who had to shift their behavior to count for you. He has snacks and drinks due to his diabetes, and has no problem sharing his extras with you if a mission drags on longer.

Tends to take control on missions, but is willing to listen if the situation isn’t dire. He respects you as his side kick, but he is mostly used to doing things alone. Your input is respected, he just often forgets to ask for it.

Similar to Craig, he would work best, for balance, with a blaster or speedster (or anyone with range.) He takes a lot of the hits, so strong damage from afar helps shift the course of battles.

Panics the first time you are injured and ends up forgetting to hand you a potion until you reach up to grab it from him. He gets really flustered after that, not used to being so frazzled in a mission.

Captain Diabetes is one of the better superheroes to sidekick with! He is a good balance of strong and capable but also respectful.

When your mission is done, and you aren’t technically assigned to him anymore, he approaches you and asks if you two can still work together anyways. He stutters a bit, and blushes when you nod your head ecstatically. 

Bonus! Call Girl

Call Girl isn’t seen as a superhero by most, so you have even less respect as her “sidekick”

Realistically, Call Girl doesn’t let you or others call you by that. She finds it a bit demeaning, and doesn’t keep you as her equal. You two are partners in her eyes.

The two of you don’t often do missions together either. Call Girl prefers to stay behind the scenes to pull the strings. It’s you who is often fighting when it is necessary.

However, you aren’t alone on the streets. Call Girl has you carry a phone she can track at all times, and she occasionally (when not extremely busy) will check the traffic cameras near your location.

Since she can’t always be there with you, she constantly is reminding you to take food, medicine, and water since she can’t carry extras.

Will scold you if you return to her injured, but will never not be the one to bandage your wounds. She is delicate as she covers them, and although her words might come off as mean, her eyes tell a whole different story.

When she begins gaining credibility, and is in fights with you more often, she is always there to protect you. Similar to Cartman, she gets angry with those who attack you, but it doesn’t cloud her judgement (she just hits harder, or leaks more embarrassing information.)

She has the best strategies! Always makes them with your strengths and weaknesses in mind. Occasionally, she forgets to ask for your input, mostly due to being excited or deeply invested in what she is planning. She won’t be upset if you interject with what you think, especially if it is something she may not have thought of.

If she sees you in danger on the cameras, or she is with you and a small battle becomes much larger, she will always jump in. Although she always tries to have a plan, she cannot account for anything and will be there whenever you call her.

[elvisabutler]

show off

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( big daddy flavor ) x female reader word count: 2100 you didn't see any other word count. warnings: cockwarming! p in v sex ( unprotected ). public play. mildly excessive baby talk. use of buntyn and nungen and princess as nicknames. mild embarrassment kink? author’s note: welcome to day 11 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, public play with big daddy elvis presley x reader. sorry this took a minute, i've been incredibly exhausted lately and so it's made finishing things a bit of an adventure. quick notes for this fic, this is a sort of au, in that i placed it in a mythical place where elvis doesn't die in 77 and is free of his vegas residency in the 70s. so maybe call it a nebulous 78 to 80? reader is implied to have been with him for years and you can read it as having an age difference but it's in my head as not having one. basically this is secretly a reader version of quiet on the set's future and i'm not sorry for it. beyond that if y'all have left me a comment on any of my fics or anything i'm going to get back to them. when i tell you i've been exhausted it's been a lot. without further ado, i hope y'all like this. also pick if you want austin elvis or real elvis the end.

There's something funny about how Elvis would prefer the two of you to be private. There is something truly and genuinely hilarious to you about the fact that he preferred the two of you to be private. His argument has always been that the happiest he ever is in his life is during those private moments with the people he loves. You always argue that he can't show you off like you know he wants to if you're being private and yet he'll flash that little twinkle in his eye and ignore your protests. So much of his life isn't private but the love he has for you— the love between the two of you is supposed to be private. An oasis for him to relax in as much as he does in Hawai‘i.

Despite all of this you know so very well how much he cares for you and how much he loves you. And if you were being entirely honest, the privacy makes the times he does want to show you off all the more special. Indeed it makes the times he does feel like delightful surprises.

Maybe that's why you had agreed to come play poker with him and the boys. It's been a long time since you've enjoyed that sort of thing and you've missed it. Truthfully it's been a while since Elvis has even been in Vegas, memories of how he almost was stuck in a revolving door of engagements here cluttering his mind and giving him a nightmare or two. So having him enjoying time with friends and you seems like a perfect recipe for a night. Of course, you should know better by now, know how Elvis always has something up his sleeve. A playful little trick he can play with that glint in his eye.

"Where's my chair, Mr. Presley?" You ask, not bothering with his nickname or his first name. There always was something fun about how he acted a bit like an admonished schoolboy when you called him Mr. Presley. "Can't very well play poker if I don't have a chair."

Elvis looks at you and gives you that sly smile you know so very well by now as he pats his lap, thigh jiggling just a tad as he does. There's that glint in his eyes that spells trouble of the best and worst kind. "Ya got a chair right here, Princess. Nice 'n plush too."

You'd think after all these years and after seeing his body through so many changes that you wouldn't be affected by the jiggle of his thigh and the open v of his legs. Yet, you're a woman who knows what she wants and you're the woman he put a ring on all those years ago. Most of the things he does get you more hot under the collar than they have any right to. This is one of those things. You feel your pussy clench around nothing and despite yourself you rub your thighs together even as you're standing.

"Are we playing as a team, then? Us against the boys?" The questions roll off your lips with an ease and familiarity only you manage when it comes to him. "Otherwise I think you'd be able to cheat."

As you speak, you've started to walk closer to him and finally find yourself at arm's length. Elvis wastes no time in grabbing your arm and pulling you flush against his lap, his thighs cushioning your behind and his cock stirring ever so slightly under his stomach. A gasp leaves your lips unexpectedly.

His arm wraps around your waist, making sure you don't move too much while he talks. "My wife accusin' me of cheatin' at cards. I could take ya thinkin' I'd step out on ya but I would never cheat at poker."

The soft rumble of a laugh courses through your body and has you following suit as you shift in his lap. "I let you step out and you let me as a present. But I know you're a sore loser who can't focus when I'm here."

You turn your head just slightly, watching as Elvis's eyes practically dance with mirth. He's mercurial as all get out when he wants to be but he can take some good-natured teasing when it comes from you. It's why you've worked well all these years.

"Now honey, my yittle nungen, I know you're still smartin' from that game ya lost against me 'bout a week ago but that ain't no reason to be tellin' lies about my sportsmanship."

A defense is on the tip of your tongue when you feel Elvis's warm hand against your thigh, slipping under your dress that you decided to wear today. That warmth does away with the words in such a quick fashion that you find yourself biting your lip to keep from sighing. "Elvis."

You say his name in a feather soft whisper as his friends start to trickle into the room. You've been in a situation like this before, when you were younger and somehow just as randy as you were now but Elvis hadn't done something like this in ages. He hadn't even thought to tease you like this in ages.

As if he isn't paying attention, he merely hums at your whisper of his name and uses his arm to maneuver your crotch against his cock, the flowing fabric of your dress hiding his actions from prying eyes. You don't know when or how he managed to free his cock from the confines of his pants and yet he has. That hand that innocently is burning against your thigh has crept up to your panties and with the ease of someone who knows your body like the back of their hand, he moves them just enough to the side to slide inside of you.

"Goddamn. Didn't expect ya to be so wet. Was hopin' but— Lord almighty, ya gonna stain my pants if ya move." Ironically you choose just that moment to move, attempting to get off of him for a moment before his grip on your waist stops you. "Nungen, you be a good girl for yer Buntyn and stay put. Can't have 'em seein' Lil Elvis, now can we?"

You feel the heat of mild embarrassment and excitement flush through your body as a shiver racks it. A shake of your head is the only answer you can manage for a moment. "You want me to sit like this for the whole game, baby?"

Elvis nuzzles his lips against your neck, his eyes taking in his friends pulling out their seats and sitting down, none the wiser to what was happening in his lap. They wave at you and you, ever the courteous host wave back and even smile, saying hello as Elvis mumbles words into your neck. He doesn't need to greet everyone, not while he's buried inside of you, his cock leaking precum like he's ready to fuck you on the table instead of just letting you sit on his cock. Besides, they know better than to disturb him when the two of you are wrapped up in one another.

The chair isn't close enough to the table and you move to drag it a little closer, or drag both you and Elvis a little closer only to have what feels like the world's loudest squelch come from between your thighs. No one looks at the pair of you as if they heard it but to Elvis and you it might as well have been a shout. You let out a shaky breath as you shift to try and make yourself comfortable. Elvis's legs open up just a bit more to make sure you're where you need to be, even as he thrusts just a tad. "Gotta stay still. Gonna, if ya move— I might just take ya on this table, damn the game."

You can't help but swallow at the idea, your mouth filling with saliva at the mere idea of being flipped thrown onto the table, pussy exposed to people you and him call friends. It's primal and practically voyeuristic and the sort of thing both you and Elvis aren't incredibly fond of with your relationship and yet. Yet it fills you with such arousal you feel it actually dampening his pants as the game starts.

Elvis isn't the worst of poker players but in combination with you, he's nigh unstoppable. Of course, maybe that's because everyone else's eyes are on you, wondering why you haven't moved to the empty chair next to Elvis. Jerry— who's there on a surprise visit is closest to the two of you and raises an eyebrow as he looks at his cards and then at you. You clench around Elvis's cock in a bit of worry.

"Is it a little warm in here?" A simple question to everyone but from the way he's staring both of you down it's not meant to be one. Both you and Elvis open your mouth before you kiss Elvis to stop whatever one liner is about to leave his lips.

"With how cold he keeps it in here? The only reason I don't need a jacket is because of his body heat," you practically titter out a laugh, the fear of being caught heightening your arousal even further. You feel your clit throbbing as everyone laughs at your joke.

Jerry rolls his eyes and shakes his head looking down at your lap. Still, the game is going nicely, with Elvis winning more hands than not and you trying to grab at a free hand to get some form of relief. After what feels like an eternity Elvis finally has his hand move between your legs, his calloused fingers brushing up against your aching little clit.

"Haven't teased ya like this in years, have I, Princess?" Elvis murmurs against your ear, feeling your vagina clench around him. "Haven't shown everyone how good ya are for me for a long time, have I? Haven't made 'em realize why I couldn't forget 'bout ya."

Your answer is a hum caused by you biting your lip to keep the cry that threatens to escape your lips at the pressure of his fingers against you. It's not enough for Elvis though, he knows you can control yourself better than he ever can. "Darlin' use ya words."

"It's been too long," you choke out the words, one of your hands moving to grip his meaty thigh and the other to grip at the table. You can feel your walls fluttering around Elvis, feel your body tensing up as it chasing something you know he won't give you in public. The face you make when he pulls an orgasm from you is one that's strictly between the two of you. Yet you're so wound up that you fear you'll be leaning over the table for support as soon as he says the word. In an attempt to alleviate something, anything you try and bounce only to have him nip at your ear.

"Ask me nicely, Nungen. Ask me nicely. Give 'em their game and their show. Remind 'em I caught ya jus' the same as ya caught me." His voice is more of a grunt as he slides a set of chips into the pot wordlessly. "Show 'em what I get in bed every night. What 'm wakin' up to every night 'less ya let me stray. Show 'em what I see after I've eaten my dessert.

Despite the way you're biting your lips so hard they're practically bleeding a noise that sounds like a scream forces its way out of your lungs and mouth as you clench around Elvis. You feel a gush that you only identify with times you've been played with so much by Elvis that you make a mess of every sheet you have. His pants are ruined but they'd be anyway from how you feel a warm rush of his cum follow yours. Through the grace of God himself you don't fall onto the table, instead stabilizing yourself using Elvis's thigh and somehow his lap in general. Your breath takes a few minutes to even out, even as everyone watches you and Elvis panting as if you've run a marathon. There's a knowing look that crosses everyone's face but everyone is too scared to speak until finally you smile and smooth out your dress as if you plan on standing up.

"This is why you're losing boys, you can't pay attention the game."

You make no effort to get off of Elvis's lap.

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7 @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @arabellalightning505, @doll-elvis guarantee i'm missing someone. i tried the end. also i clearly added this originally. also you want to be added just ask me. i keep forgetting people or losing people in these and just it's a mess.

[pumpkinsplots]

Writeblr Intro

Hello, writeblr! I finally caved and got tumblr, mostly because I love rambling about my wips and hearing other people ramble about theirs and all of that lovely stuff, so this seemed like a great platform to do that. With that being said, I plan on posting about my wips and ocs, as well as art related to those things, so if that interests you at all, I’d love to see you stick around. Also feel free to call me either Pumpkin or Maria, it’s entirely up to you!

About my writing

I’ve found that I really enjoy writing in a variety of genres, so hopefully at least one of my wips will tickle your fancy. Though I’d say a common thing for me is that I really like to world build, so my wips tend to be sci-fi, fantasy, or magical realism of some variety. Anything where I can put my own spin on the setting is something I’m bound to enjoy writing about.

I write in third person, usually with multiple povs, and I really enjoy character driven stories.

I often like to have a wide variety of ages in the cast, and if I had to pick a favorite trope it would be found family, so that’s usually present to some degree in my stuff.

Tonally, I always include light-hearted moments here and there, even if the wip is very bleak. It provides some levity, and I think it makes the painful stuff hit a lot harder. This is probably partially why I put some thought into each character’s sense of humor.

Most of my wips are geared towards older teens and adults, but I’ll get more into content warnings when I talk about each individually, because it really varies.

I’m one of those writers that kills off a lot of characters, so this is your warning not to get attached /j

I’m demisexual, so at least one character being on the ace spectrum is like a requirement for me at this point.

I’m a plantser, and pretty bad at staying motivated to actually finish first drafts.

About my wips

Falling Up

Falling Up is a sci-if story set in the future where Earth is a utopia where inhabitants experience little to no hardships throughout their lives. The deceased are replaced with AI created to replicate them, and everything is automated to the point where people no longer need to work to make a living. This lack of struggle results in dull, perfect lives and skewed morals. The people crave entertainment, even if it means making others suffer for it. Quasdom, a miniature man made planet initially intended to be used to separate deviants from the rest of the perfect society, is used as a catalyst for entertainment. The people of Quasdom believe that those on Earth are superior to them, and that Earth is a place where any wish can come true. This leads to the tourney, a death game between groups of ten on Quasdom, being viewed similarly to winning the lottery. The winning team gets to go to Earth, after all. Being chosen for the tourney is the luckiest thing that can happen to you. There’s no hard feelings between participants, death is completely painless, and the afterlife will welcome any participants to a better life than they previously had. There’s nothing to fear, so smile and put on a show.

A large cast and lots of character deaths

An exploration of why we get so attached to fictional characters, and how fiction can have an impact on reality

Probably going to be a trilogy

Content warnings include language, some unsettling themes, depictions of mental health issues, and generally things that are more psychological. Despite it being a death game, there’s no gore, like at all. The people on Earth may be desensitized, but they aren’t accustomed to seeing blood, so the tourney is designed with that in mind

Facade

Facade is set in a world where the living world and the spirit world coexist. Due to some actions by the main antagonist, about 20 years prior to the current story, spirits started getting aggressive and sort of going haywire. They possess any person they can, turning the individual into an uncontrollable killing machine. The best defense to this was the invention of a certain kind of mask that prevents possession, and masks quickly became widespread. Since there’s no known way to reverse spiritual possession, the only solution is to kill those that are unfortunate enough to meet that fate. A group led by an anonymous vigilante known as K9 seek to find a way to reverse possession. Many enemies are made along the way, and there are countless obstacles to face.

Its setting is based on Singapore and set in the 90s, though there are many creative liberties taken

The wip is currently pretty no plot just vibes

Themes about individuality vs equality

Content warnings include language and some sexual content

Facade: After Dark

While Facade is currently no plot just vibes, developing the characters led to me thinking of the plot for a prequel. Is it a self-indulgent novella about two of the characters I love? Yes, absolutely. In summary, it’s a romance novella about the the relationship of Leijing and Iris, and their struggles in navigating the wild world of Facade. They have vastly different upbringings and experiences, but their differences bring them together in more ways than one.

I have so much backstory for this pre-established couple and I couldn’t think of a good way to incorporate it into the main story without cutting a bunch of it, so boom it’s a prequel now

I’ve found that working on a wip that’s more low stakes and simple is really fun—I tend to get stressed about my more ambitious plots, so this wip is a great change of pace

Leijing is demisexual with little interest in anything sex related and Iris is an omnisexual sex worker, and the story explores how a world obsessed with all things sex can effect both more sex-negative and sex-positive people

Content warnings include language, explicit sexual content, and potentially triggering subject matters. This is my only wip where it’s strictly 18+!

Lights Out

Sunlight is the essence of life. Without it, the world would wither away. However, a dangerous new life form of unknown origin festers in the light. With long, elegant glimmering limbs, high intelligence, picturesque precision, and a craving for flesh, these organisms pose a major threat to humanity. But for some odd reason, these creatures refuse to step into any area where the sun doesn’t touch. Much of humanity takes to the shadows, building elaborate underground tunnels for civilizations and doing what humans do best—using their resources and ingenuity to adapt.

Has two protagonists that butt heads but start to develop a father daughter dynamic. A young adult girl who’s from the underground and unknowingly part of a cult, and an older man with one leg who’s so stubborn he’d rather fight and die than flee to the darkness

Lots of creepy cult imagery and themes about religious trauma

So much banter of course

Content warnings include language, disturbing imagery, and gore

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading! Asks, comments, tag games, and messages are always appreciated, and I’d love to hear about your wips as well!

[ronearoundblindly]

If its ok what if

Lloyd hansen x reader x steve rogers

🥵 smutt

ya know, it took me a loooong time--this ask is from september--to come up with something, but today's the day apparently! And, AND! The lovely @darsynia made me an awesome graphic whilst I wrote all this filth! Thank you, bestie!!! WC 3.3k

Warnings for oh fuck these two are terrors, smut, goddamn fighting (obviously, bc they can't get along in any universe), possibly the worst fucking puns ever and I no longer care, terrible/inaccurate/but very mild dom/sub vibes, not much but knife play. Please note that this work does not involve the two men together. Alternate title: Ro is 1,000% [nope, better make it 1,000,000%] going to hell. MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you!

You can tell Steve is about to crawl out of his skin as the knife touches yours.

"You buy these pretty things for me?" Lloyd coos, tucking the point of his switchblade beneath a lacy seam. He knows damn well the navy set with bright red hearts is not for his enjoyment at all, so he turns his head to stare at your husband.

"Useless," Lloyd growls, flicking his wrist deftly.

The sliced fabric springs back to reveal your thatch of hair. You have no idea whether Lloyd was talking about your panties or Steve, and frankly, you're too turned on to care. There’s a certain amount of goading you expected aimed at the awkward hunk leaning on the far wall.

Steve clenches his arms tighter across his chest and sucks in a breath, eyes darting to your skin in case Lloyd drew blood, but his gaze lingers at your almost exposed core.

He hates this whole idea, but you have tried talking to him so many times about how to make sex more interesting. Steve can't stand to even listen to the words much less do what you want. This is the compromise.

Lloyd Hansen will do anyone for the right price, and sure, usually, that's killing, but who doesn't love a good fuck? Who wouldn't get half-hard just thinking about taking Captain America's wife to pound town right in front of the guy?

Lloyd simply smirks, returning his eyes to you and nudging the lace a little farther. The flat of the blade on your mound feels cold and so fucking dangerous that you shiver, neck tensing to throw your head back.

"How's that feel, pumpkin?"

"Golden," you whine, mewling when he nicks the other end and pulls your panties off. Lloyd doesn't like safe words and shit, but he agreed to a few check-ins, and you do have a way to stop him because, let's face it, the money is the real goal for him. The rest is gravy.

Lloyd stalks over to Steve's corner of the room, lifting the ruined garment for the other to take. "A souvenir--" he chuckles "--what's that smell like to you, huh, big man?"

Steve grimaces, unmoving, so Lloyd shoves your panties in his face.

"Smells like team spirit to me."

You should laugh. You really should. You should not fucking moan when you see Steve's chest expand and his eyes flutter shut briefly. You should not have such a surge of tingling heat race to your center that your thighs slam together.

But you do. And Lloyd notices.

"This is gonna be fun," he whispers, likely to himself, as he drops the fabric and walks over again.

His fingertips slide from your knee up your thigh, and Lloyd bends to nip at your neck.

"Lie back from me, sweetheart. Go on."

You have to cover a squeak while you flop onto the mattress. This sort of dominance is nothing like Steve Rogers even on his most confident day. Steve is always measured and a little tentative, his force reined in to the point of being boring after so many years. This is all flush and feral with the promise of oblivion, and in the strangest way, you still associate every second as with Steve, not Lloyd Hansen. The exercise in trust--the sheer fact that he was willing to entertain this idea, much less the practice--is a show of devotion from Steve you never thought possible.

And then Lloyd kneels down and pushes your legs apart. "Open up for me. That's it. Good girl."

"Ah fuck," you moan into your hand, and thank god if Steve does hear you, he doesn't say a thing.

Lloyd skips finesse and plunges into the dirty end of the pool by licking all the way up and down your cunt, hands spreading your ass to expose every bit of you to him, and he pauses to speak with his mouth against your clit.

"Do I need to give him a lesson or can I just fucking taste you?"

"I know how to--" but Steve's protest dies behind the noise Lloyd makes sloppily eating you out like a man starved.

Your legs instinctively wrap around his head, and your hips buck into the wild ride. His mustache burns in the best way. You gasp so much that your throat burns dry, too.

He says other things, things that rumble up your spine and settle deep in your brain, but you can't process what those words are until the white-hot lightning finally cracks your body apart.

Lloyd is shockingly soothing as you come back down from your high but unshockingly smug when he sweeps his face clean of your cum.

"You're doing star-spangled spectacularly for me, slut, now why don't--"

There's a thunderclap of noise that wrenches you out of your bliss. You’re knocked onto your side as Lloyd falls to the floor.

Steve raises his arm again but hesitates when you call his name.

"He doesn't...he doesn't do well with language like that," you manage to say, still fuzzy and out of breath.

Lloyd wipes blood from his nose. "Yeah, I picked up on that. Thanks,” he spits sarcastically, followed by a real spit to clear his mouth. “Down, boy. I'll play nice--" he winks at you as he rises "--but not too nice."

Lloyd climbs back to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, his hand spreading over your throat gently. "Feels good, don't it? Feeling golden?"

You nod vigorously.

He licks more blood from his lip. “Yeah? Can we move on, pumpkin, or is your pussy still needy—“

Lloyd catches Steve's fist this time, jumping up to punch your husband square in the neck.

Steve, to his credit, doesn't even go down, but he drops his arm and steps back, rubbing the point of contact as he wheezes for a minute.

"Can I please continue?" Lloyd screams in annoyance. The man is not in any way used to sharing, or going slow, or giving a flying fuck about anyone in the room for that matter. However, Lloyd is a dedicated professional, so he’ll continue because he knows what’s in it for him. "God damn it,” he barks, spitting at Steve’s feet.

Lloyd takes a beat to compose himself and returns to your side, facing away now, his hand plunging between your legs.

"Time to earn participation points, Golden Boy." Two fingers breach your entrance without warning. "On your knees."

Lloyd snaps his other fingers and points to the ground like he's training a dog to heel.

Slowly, with wide eyes and hesitant steps, Steve places himself exactly as Lloyd did before. He strategically keeps his focus glued to yours until the squelching sound of Lloyd's fingers thrusting in and out of you becomes too loud to ignore.

That look--that fucking moment where your husband sees your core and hunger darkens his whole face--could send you back over the edge right here, but suddenly, Lloyd stops.

"Now we've got his attention," the cruel man laughs.

Like your panties before, there's no ceremony to Lloyd shoving his fingers into Steve's awe-parted lips, but the biggest shock is how your husband doesn't fight the intrusion. No. Steve grabs Lloyd's wrist to keep him there until Steve is done sucking your taste off another man's fingers.

You're pretty sure that's when your soul left your body, but it's a toss-up between that and every other moment tonight.

With more patience than you thought possible, Lloyd waits, comically making an “O” with his mouth and looking at you. “Someone’s eager for the beaver, I see.” He takes the same wet fingers and tucks them between your breasts, snapping the front of your bra sharply against your sternum. 

“Finish unwrapping your present. I wanna see what you got—” and when Steve immediately reaches behind your back for the clasp, Lloyd’s eyebrows bob up and down “—and he’s good at following orders, too.”

Your husband plants a gentle kiss on the swell of one breast before Lloyd stops him, tutting while he holds a fucking knife against Captain America’s chest to sit him back on his heels.

He ticks the blade down. “That’s your half now. This is mine.”

You’re practically panting while Steve’s eyes go hard in possessiveness, locked onto Lloyd in a challenge you don’t quite understand until the fancy man flips the blade back into it’s handle.

“Fine,” Lloyd grouches, tossing the knife farther up the bed. He shuffles closer to face you, a warm hand cupping your breast before he tweaks the nipple harshly. “Why don’t you relax for us, huh, good girl?”

Lloyd coaxes you to lean back again, orders Steve to hold your legs open and tease you, buries painful fingers in your hair, and forces you to watch.

“That’s it. Don’t you want to hear her beg? Doesn’t she sound so sweet? Oh, I like her desperate…”

Not in years has Steve Rogers whispered anything so filthy as the shit that falls from Lloyd’s mouth, but goddamn, every word is like kindling stoking the vigor with which Steve consumes you. You lap up the praise while your husband gulps down every ounce created by every word.

Lloyd lowers to suck and bite all over your chest, marks blossoming across the tender skin as he takes a sort of sweet revenge for his bloody nose. A kink for a kink.

“You want to tell him what’s next,” Lloyd rasps, straining your neck back to look at him in the last few moments before you come again, “or should I?” His devilish smile is the last thing you see before he pushes you to meet Steve’s eyes, the perfect, final flick of tongue rolling over your clit.

Dutifully—sweetly almost—Steve lifts away from you as your legs shake, replacing his face with his fingers to gently bring you down, and Lloyd does not like that. He swats Steve’s hand off to slap your raw bundle of nerves and shove his fingers in again, brutally hitting that spongy spot until the dam of orgasm doesn’t just rupture, it explodes inside you.

You cry out and flail. Lloyd pins you down with a knee to your ribcage, and it hurts but not enough to give a shit over the rush of cum soaking his hand and the sheets below. Steve holds your ankles so you don’t kick him in the face while squirming, transfixed on every move Lloyd makes to milk you stupid.

With one last wet slap, Lloyd rests his hand on your belly and tosses a gelled lock of hair out of his face.

“Wifey here wants to suck you dry,” he boasts, and your hands fly to your face in hot embarrassment.

You confessed that after drinking quite a lot during the ‘negotiation’ of terms for this little arrangement, but only when Steve excused himself to the restroom. Lloyd wasn’t supposed to repeat your fantasy.

“That’s right, big guy. She’s gonna blow your—“ his eyes drop and raise “—mind,” he continues, unpinning you and pushing your arms to the side. He leans down to smear your own slick across your mouth messily, quietly adding, “he won’t even notice I’m right behind you.”

The air rushes out of your lungs before you can stop it, making a downright pathetic sound of anticipation.

“Strip,” Lloyd commands, waving a hand casually at Steve and sauntering over to a bottle of water on the dresser. “The…uh…lady should get on her knees.”

Steve turns to the other wall, unable to meet your eye, bright red blotches spotting his neck and cheeks. He’s embarrassed, too, but from the speed at which he unzips his jeans to relieve his still-straining erection and then pulls his shirt over his head, Steve is also painfully aroused. You even catch him rubbing his cock with each conceivable pass while disrobing. It reignites that weak fire between your tired legs.

“Face up, Captain. Give ‘er some room,” Lloyd snorts, capping his water.

Of course, Steve spreads his legs in front of you, and instead of acknowledging how fucking hard he is, he helps you balance into position.

You capture a quick kiss and smile as your husband blushes even more.

“Jesus, I’m gonna vomit,” Lloyd mutters behind you.

He’s just so, so fucking evil, but you admit the contrast has you drooling to get your mouth on Steve. You’re already planning on adding orders to your regular routine. You buzz with excitement at all this play implies, now and in the future.

Steve isn’t just letting this happen; he likes what’s happening.

Lloyd’s warm hand pets down your spine until it rests heavily on your lower back, the heel of it pressed against your spread ass, an encouragement and a threat.

“Take him how you want. Just like you told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to Steve’s ragged breaths amidst Lloyd's criticism.

“You don’t just lick him, do you, kitten? You can do better than that. I thought you wanted to swallow him whole. Don’t disappoint me now. More. You can take it. More.”

Your nose nuzzles into Steve’s pelvis as you feel his cock jump in your throat. You swallow around him but force yourself up for air after.

“Is that the best you got?” Lloyd teases, his hand sliding tauntingly down your crack and through your folds before he’s gone.

You open your eyes when he grabs your wrist and presses the closed switchblade into your palm.

“Go on. Hold it, pumpkin. Right there.” Lloyd makes your hand rest on Steve’s thigh. For balance, you have to open your fist and press the metal to your husband’s skin as you take him back into your mouth.

Steve fucking groans, pinching his eyes shut and grabbing the sheets beneath him.

“Oh yeah,” Lloyd chirps, “he likes a bit of danger, huh?” A flat hand cracks against your ass, making you whine with your lips around Steve’s dick.

The sound of Steve whimpering is coupled with the snap of Lloyd's belt. His fingers return, and you just know he’s unabashedly staring at your pussy.

“Whoo-ee, if you weren’t already gaping for me, I’d think you weren’t into this. Put your back into it.” You hear the rip of a zipper only moments before the thick tip of him lines up.

You can’t help but moan low and long over Steve’s length.

“Baby?” Steve breathes above you.

“She’s fine,” Lloyd answers instead, pushing in. The head of him pops past the first ridge of your walls, and his hand clamps down on your hip, the other flat over the small of your back, guiding, controlling.

The spit of both men coats your core and inner thighs, you remember, and the slow swirl of ambient air proves it. That thought makes your eyes roll back as much as the glorious pressure of Lloyd’s cock filling you.

But Steve’s fingers find your chin and raise you to look at him, repeating his question until you let him fall heavy from your mouth and lick your swollen lips.

“Golden,” you say just as Lloyd bottoms out. “Fff-ahh.” You barely stop yourself from cursing when he thrusts forward and another SMACK hits your ass. “Golden,” you promise, because you know Steve is watching with extremely mixed feelings.

You return what attention you can to stuffing your mouth full. A rhythm progresses while you rock between them, but it’s too gentle for—of all people—Steve.

His hand knots through your hair to guide you faster. You have to plant yourself steady on the mattress, the knife digging into both your flesh, and hold your hips still.

Lloyd isn’t even fazed as he takes over his own selfish pace, his balls slapping so hard they sting your thighs. He keeps talking, too.

“See how much she likes that, buddy?”

Oh, that is not going to go over well with Steve.

“Bet she’d drop to her knees for you daily.”

He’s not wrong there…

“Damn, babygirl—“ Oh shit “—sometimes a bitch just needs fucked doggy-style.”

You can feel Steve’s chest fill to correct him, the deep v-line of his Adonis’ belt pressing against your nose to cut off your air, but Lloyd purposefully slams into you. You lurch forward to deep-throat Steve with a scream of alarm, and the constriction nearly topples Steve over the edge.

Just for a moment, his hand holds you down, choking you. It’s Steve choking you on his dick, and your nails happily dig into his meaty thighs. You’ve dreamed of this day.

With a strangled sound, Steve pulls you off him, strings of spit drip from your abused mouth. You’re gasping for air but also not done enjoying yourself, so you lick and kiss up Steve’s length until ready to take him again.

All the while, Lloyd darkly chuckles and kneads at your ass.

When one spanking lands so hard that you cry out, Steve bucks down your throat and punches the bed, clearly torn between sensation and situation. 

“Such an asshole,” he grits through clenched teeth. 

“Oh,” Lloyd tuts, “she wants it in the ass? Well, when in Rome…” He swipes his thumb over the cream pooling at the base of his cock and shoves his thumb hard against your puckered hole. 

Honestly, you have no idea if it even breached because you scream and fall forward on Steve's dick. This time, Steve comes with a roar, a raging, animalistic thing you have never heard before, but you’re pulled away just as fast. 

Lloyd hauls you up to his chest, telling you to look at what a fucking mess your husband is for you. Steve desperately grips himself until it’s over, half his spend glistening on his abs, half rolling down your chin while Lloyd continues to thrust into your sweet spot.

He’s given up controlling his language entirely.

“Fuck, she’s close. Come on, big guy—“ he pinches your nipple and bites at your neck “—finish her off.”

Lloyd drops you like a stone into Steve’s waiting arms, and Steve wastes no time slamming his mouth to yours and furiously rubbing your clit. You’re so stretched out that three of his thick fingers feel like nothing until they curl.

This time you can’t help but shout your own curse. Steve just keeps kissing you, holding you two together as you writhe. You hardly notice Lloyd painting his cum across your back and ass but neither does Steve, it seems, because the next thing you know you’re laying beside your husband in bed while your guest grins in triumph.

“I’ll just take this,” Lloyd drawls, reaching beneath Steve’s bare leg to retrieve his knife. He slaps Steve’s ass, too. It’s as if Lloyd knows Steve will let him get away with just about anything in the post-coital fog. “Don’t want you to feel left out, buddy.”

Your husband makes no move at all except to kiss your forehead.

“How are you?” He smooths your wrecked hair out of your face.

“Oh wow,” you say with a rough voice and runaway breaths, “I’m golden, just golden.”

Lloyd grabs his water bottle, joking. “My work here is done, and you two—“ he swigs and swallows dramatically “—I don't mind repeat business from. Anytime. Fuck.” 

He struts to the bathroom, pants still undone and hanging open, uncaring. With a shout, he slaps the top of the door frame.

“That’s America’s Cunt!”

Steve’s whole body tenses. “I hate that guy,” he grumbles into your sweaty skin.

You snuggle closer, surrounded by familiar body heat and musk. “I know. Isn't it great?” 

Because it’s so, so true. There is nothing about Lloyd Hansen you actually want for one second longer than necessary. That's the beauty of teamwork: everyone serves their purpose.

Honorable mention to the line I promised but ultimately couldn't fit in (that's what she said):

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[babytarttdoodoo]

for the mini fic prompt, could you do hurt/comfort where jamie hyperventilates and has a panic attack in mom city? and with keeley and roy to help him through it

Y’all really looked at the angst and h/c of the last one and went ‘yup’, huh? I love it.

Went back and forth on when in Mom City to place this but there is a good chunk of unaccounted for time in the episode where we know Jamie, Roy and Keeley were all together.

Thank you for the prompt and I hope you enjoy.

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

They ended up in the hotel bar. It was hardly the most glamorous spot in the city and Jamie felt a bit like he should be doing more to show Roy and Keeley around his hometown.

The truth was, though, that he was still just bone-deep tired. He hadn’t missed the way Roy had eyed him assessingly before telling Keeley that Jamie wasn’t allowed cocktails and making a fuss about the team curfew.

Jamie was grateful for it. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

So all three of them had retraced their steps back to the Hacienda and found a quiet corner that kept them mostly hidden from the view of other guests enjoying a nightcap. Roy had looked entirely too pleased with himself when he returned from the bar with a beer, something pink and foamy for Keeley, and a neon-coloured, sugary monstrosity of a mocktail that he set down in front of Jamie.

The umbrella in it was a nice touch.

It drew out a bout of good natured teasing that it was easy to laugh at, to fall into a familiar rhythm with, but Jamie quickly resorted to quietly sipping his glorified fruit juice while Roy and Keeley (mostly Keeley) carried on the conversation around him.

Talking seemed like so much effort, right then.

Don’t get him wrong, seeing his mum had helped loads. It always did. She never judged him for anything and always understood what he was trying to say, regardless of whatever mixed metaphors he came up with to describe the mess in his head.

Just spending a bit of time with her had settled something in his chest that felt like it had rattled loose weeks ago.

But that feeling of dread that had dogged so many of his waking hours was still pulling at the back of his mind. It was with a sort of detached fascination that Jamie noticed his fingers shaking when he reached for his glass.

“Jamie?”

“Hmm?” He startled and looked up from the table to see Roy and Keeley staring right at him, twin expressions of pinched concern on their faces. Like a weird parody of those posters in his room. “Oh, er, sorry, Keels. Miles away.”

“You should get to bed.” Roy stated, frowning but not (Jamie thought) in an angry way. “We still need you tomorrow.”

Right.

“The crowd’s gonna hate you. And the person who’s gonna be booing the loudest in the crowd is your dad.”

Jamie stood abruptly, barely noticing the screech his chair made against the floor past the white noise suddenly rushing in his ears. He did notice the way concern shifted straight to fucking alarm across the table and stumbled over an apology.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll just go. Upstairs.” He swallowed and it made his stomach churn. Could you sweat on the inside of your mouth? It definitely felt like it. “Need me rest, don’t I?”

Roy was already getting up too. “Fuck, Jamie, I didn’t mean…”

“Stay for a bit? We’ll walk you up.” Keeley chimed in, looking at Jamie with big, liquid eyes and shit, he couldn’t handle any more of this.

He said something, he thought, but didn’t know or care if it made sense. He just shook his head and backed away quickly, keenly aware of the eyes on him as he made a beeline for the lobby.

Jamie shouldered open the door to the stairwell without making a conscious decision to take the stairs. It probably wasn’t a good idea - the shaking in his fingers had apparently spread and it felt like pins and needles were running up his legs. Everything about how he was feeling made the plushly carpeted steps seem horribly intimidating.

In the absence of a better option, he sank down to sit on them instead, clutching onto the wall and only barely aware of the short, sharp breaths he was pulling in. His chest felt like he’d been doing Roy’s sadistic suicide runs all day.

Funny, his vision swam when he did those too.

He closed his eyes against the nausea that swamped him as if a tide of awful was rushing over his head and just tried to breathe, to focus on the sound and rhythm of air sucked into his lungs instead of anything else.

The feeling of hands on him jolted through his body like a shockwave.

“No!” He flailed his arms in an effort to get away and pressed back against the wall, looking around wildly.

“Shit, shit, sorry love.” For a terrifying second, Jamie didn’t even recognise Keeley, too confused by her sudden appearance. She was perched on the stairs too, hands snatched back against her chest to keep from reaching out again. “It’s just us. You’re okay.”

“Oi, Tartt.” Oh, Roy was there too, crouching down to his level and fixing him with a remarkably steady look. Right now, that seemed like some sort of superpower. Roy Fucking Kent, eh?

“Look at me, alright? Deep breath in.” He gestured to his own expanding ribcage and Jamie found himself following along. Copying his coach like it was the most natural thing in the world. He blew air out through pursed lips and drew it back in again. And again. And again. His eyes stayed fixed on Roy’s face, latched on to that cool, collected calm.

Slowly, the rest of the world started to filter back in and Jamie had the presence of mind to realise how ridiculous this all was. He was cowering in a corner like a scared kid while the two people he’d idolised for at least a fucking decade coddled him. His face felt wet.

He scrubbed his hands roughly over his eyes and cheeks, shifting into a more comfortable seating position and feeling his ears and neck burn with shame.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Roy agreed, still watching him carefully. “Alright?”

Jamie nodded glumly then startled when Roy all but collapsed to sit on the floor below him. The calm of a moment ago had disappeared in the blink of an eye.

“Jesus Christ, don’t fucking do that again.” He practically snarled the words but didn’t actually look angry. He looked… something else. “Scared the shit out of me.”

Oh.

“Oh. Sorry.” Jamie offered weakly, baffled when Roy just shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Babe.” Keeley’s voice was quiet, tentative in a way he’d never really heard from her before. He turned to see that her eyes still looked huge, set in a paler than normal face. But she smiled at him. “Can I touch you now? Is that alright?”

That sounded fucking wonderful so Jamie nodded and went easily into her arms. She was tiny but he curled up to tuck his face against her shoulder, shivering when her fingers smoothed back his hair.

“That’s it, darling. We’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.” She went on murmuring soft, nice little things to him as the shaking slowly left Jamie’s frame and he felt like his legs might support him again.

Eventually, he cleared his throat and sat back up straight. His eyes darted between them, seeing clearly now that they both looked properly terrible.

“... don’t suppose there’s any chance we can just forget that happened?” he tried hopefully. It did at least get a snort of laughter from Roy.

“Not a fucking hope in hell, you little prick.” He stood slowly, bracing a hand on the wall, and grimaced. “Ears.”

“What?” Jamie furrowed his brow in confusion when Keeley immediately slapped her hands over her ears. It quickly curdled into guilt when Roy reached down and viciously adjusted his knee with the worst cracking, squelching sound Jamie had ever heard. “Fucking hell, old man. What the fuck did you get on the floor for?”

Roy didn’t dignify that with an answer, just held out his hands to Jamie.

“C’mon, up. We’re not staying here all night.”

Jamie almost questioned what he meant by ‘we’, but just accepted the help instead and used Roy’s strong grip to pull himself back to standing.

Keeley followed his lead unaided and wrapped herself around Jamie’s arm, clearly intent on holding him for the foreseeable future. Or maybe she just thought he needed the extra support. That was valid.

Stairs were obviously not an option now, not with Roy wincing on every other step taken to show them back out into the lobby. Nevertheless, he hovered like a bodyguard, shielding the view of them both as much as he could with his own body until they reached the lift.

Keeley disentangled a hand to stab at the call button and they all herded into the small space like some bizarre conga line.

Jamie couldn’t even find it in himself to protest. Not when Keeley was soft and warm against his side, the smell of her perfume so achingly familiar. Not when Roy put a guiding hand to the small of his back and it drifted up to grip his shoulder once they were inside.

He found his voice, though, when Roy pressed the button for the eighth floor.

“I’m on six.” His suitcase was still sitting open on the bed, he thought, unpacked and lonely.

“My room’s bigger.” Roy told him gruffly, like that was any kind of answer, and made absolutely no move to change their destination.

Confused, Jamie let himself be led along to the room that Roy was apparently staying in and shuffled across the threshold. It actually was a bit nicer than his - that hardly seemed fair.

Keeley gently tugged him over the bed and sat him down. She smoothed back his hair again and it felt so nice.

“Do you need anything? I’m going to grab some of my stuff. I can go to your room too.”

Jamie scrunched up his face. It felt like he’d missed a whole conversation at some point. 

“You’re sleeping in here.” Roy told him, tone brooking no argument and Jamie turned to him in surprise. “So we can make sure you do actually fucking sleep.”

Sure enough, Roy was turning down the bedsheets and moving his own things around. Making room.

“Oh.” Jamie considered that. The thought of spending the night alone with Roy Kent in a hotel room brought up a lot of very complicated feelings. Except, it sounded like Keeley was planning to stick around as well, didn’t it? And the idea of staying like this for the rest of the night, bracketed between them with nice words and soft touches, was more comforting than he could bear.

“Alright then.”