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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Rival V

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Gooner to Gunner

Arsenal coming calling for you a few weeks after your seventeenth birthday. You've been playing professionally for Linköping since you were fifteen, following the under-seventeen Euros, as their second choice goalkeeper.

You always knew, much like your mothers, that you didn't want to stay in Sweden your whole career. It's off the back of completing your final matches as the Under-seventeen team's captain in a round of friendlies that you get the email.

You're mucking around on your laptop, aimlessly typing something out for one of your classes when you switch tabs to your Momma's emails.

It had been terribly easy to crack the password (your and Morsa's birthdays put together) and you made sure that she didn't know you were logged in. It's not like you had been planning anything malicious but it was Momma's email that was connected to the Amazon account and you were just too impatient to wait to see what surprise she had ordered to celebrate your tenure as captain for the youth team.

You had been tracking the package for days now and just so happened to spy this new email at the top of the list.

You frown. It's got your name on it. You're not eighteen yet so all of your professional stuff comes through either Momma and Morsa and-yes, Morsa was cc'ed into the email too.

You click on it. There's nothing wrong with that, you think to yourself, because it's about you anyway. There's no harm in finding out what it was a bit early.

Your eyes skim through the email, your heart stuttering in your chest.

It was a contract proposal.

The same position, second goalkeeper, but for a hell of a lot more money.

At Arsenal.

You glance behind you.

Everywhere you've ever moved, your framed Leah Williamson shirt ends up over your bed.

Always.

Even when you gained so many more world class player's jerseys (Tia Tana, Alexia, Keira Walsh, just to name a few), Leah's one always ended up over your bed.

Your door swings open and your hurriedly close the tab, writing more nonsense for your schoolwork.

"Morsa!" You exclaim," Knock!"

Morsa laughs. "Sorry, princesse, I don't realise I was raising such a moody teenager."

"I could have been naked," You scoff.

"This early? No chance. I just came up here to say that dinner's ready."

"Dinners ready or it's nearly ready and you're using me to set the table?" You're wise to Morsa's tricks.

"We ordered in. Dinner is actually ready."

By the time that you've washed your hands and made it downstairs, Momma and Morsa have made space for you to slot between them.

You try to keep quiet for a little bit but the email you've just read makes you antsy and anxious.

"So..." You say finally as the show you're watching finishes and your Morsa starts flicking through the channels to find something new. "How was work?"

Momma frowns at you suspiciously. "Good. Why?"

You try to be casual. "No reason. So...no funny email chains? Nothing interesting?"

Momma turns to look at you fully. "What's going on with you? What have you heard?"

You shrug. "Me? Nothing."

She watches you with narrowed eyes. "Magda, what have you told her?"

"Me?" Morsa's got a slice of pizza hanging from her mouth. "Why do you think I've told her something?"

"She's acting suspicious. Just like you do when you know something you shouldn't."

"I haven't told her anything. I've barely seen her all day. She came straight home from training and shacked up in her room to do schoolwork."

Momma is still staring at you as she fishes her phone out of her pocket and flicks through her emails. Like you, it doesn't take her long to find it.

She sighs - long and drawn out and she rubs her temple with her fingers. "I don't know how you found out about this before me but-"

"Please! Please! Please! Please, Momma!" You're kneeling on the ground in front of her, hands clasped together. "I'm nearly out of the contract with Linköping. Please! It'd be such a good opportunity!"

"Whoa, whoa," Morsa says quickly," Slow down. What's going on? Pernille, huh?"

Momma sighs again, turning her phone over to Morsa. "Arsenal is interested in her."

Morsa skims through the email, her eye twitching slightly. She looks at you and says," No. If you want to go to England, we can see if Chelsea will take you."

You sigh just like Momma did. "Morsa, please! I don't even like Not-Wolfsburg! I'll play so good at Arsenal, I promise!"

"First of all," Morsa says," You're seventeen. You have got to stop calling Chelsea Not-Wolfsburg. Second of all, you're seventeen. In what world is moving to England a good idea at the moment?"

"For football!" You exclaim, standing on your feet and grabbing at her hands. You know Momma will support you in anything you want to do, including this. So it's just Morsa (who would probably prefer it if you joined fucking Spurs than Arsenal) that you have to convince. "Morsa, please! I...I'll give it my all! Please! Arsenal's the goal!"

"I thought Wolfsburg was the goal."

"It is!" You say," But that's the long term goal! Wolfsburg will be sure to watch me if I play in the WSL!"

"Wolfsburg was watching your Momma when she was still at Linköping," Morsa points out," Why can't you stay at Linköping?"

"Morsa!" You're getting a bit annoyed now. "Wolfsburg the club I want to retire at! Arsenal for Leah and Aunt Lina and Aunt Stina. Barcelona or Lyon, maybe, for Tia Tana or Daan. And then Wolfsburg!"

That causes a small smile to tug at Morsa's lips. "No Bayern on your list?"

"It's in the maybe category like Barca and Lyon! Don't change the subject! Who knows when an opportunity like this will come up again? The national teams will be sure to watch me properly too, if I'm playing in England!"

Momma laughs. "Magda," She says," Just put her out of her misery, already."

You look between them. "Huh?"

Morsa stands up, drawing you up into a hug. "Of course you can sign for Arsenal, princesse."

"Really?"

"Yes."

●～●～●～●～

You end up back in London for the first time in years within the month.

A picture goes up on social media on the day you come in to officially sign. You shake hands with the manager and pose for the photo, holding onto your new jersey.

It's probably your most prized possession now with your favourite number on the back - you're challenging yourself to clinch the first keeper position within two years.

At Linköping, your last name was on your shirt.

At Arsenal, it's your first name.

Abruptly, you're brought back to a blurry memory of sitting on the floor of your house before the move to Bayern, when you ran your fingers over Alexia's name, when your Momma explained that some of the best had only their first names on their jerseys.

"There she is."

You look up and then back down bashfully.

Leah Williamson walks up to you. She's older now, than when you first met her all those years ago. She's retired from football - just like your mothers - but she still works in the sector, one of the coaches for the women's team.

"Hi."

"You look good in an Arsenal shirt," She says," Even better now that it's not mine."

You don't know why you say it but you do," I still have the first shirt you gave me. Momma and Morsa got it framed for me."

She grins at you, clapping you on the back. "I had you pegged for a Gunner the moment you wandered into our dressing room." She breathes in deeply. "Let me just take a moment. This is a nice full circle moment for me."

You laugh. "Me too."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #magdalena eriksson x reader #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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dilemmaontwolegs · 5 months

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Already Gone || MV1 {7}

Pairing: Max Verstappen x spy!fem!reader Summary: After the attack in your home, Max is serious about learning to fight. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, alcohol, sparring, mentions of illegal activities WC: 1.8k

F1 Masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

“Are you sure you should be drinking? You might have a concussion,” Max worried as you sipped the gin and tonic Christian had made.

“Relax, the lady’s earned a drink or two,” Christian said as he sat down with his own. “Nice job.”

You clinked your glass with your bosses before drinking half of the strong beverage in one gulp and sighing happily. “Thank you. Dare I ask where Brett’s taking them?”

Christian chuckled and shook his head. “Best to have deniability.”

Max looked uncomfortable at the conversation as he shifted in his seat beside you, his fingers massaging your shoulder that his arm draped across.

“I know you don’t like it, babe, but this is the reality of the situation,” you said softly as you took his hand and traced the lines that cut across his palm, not that you believed in the life line or the love line crap. “They wanted to break your hands. They weren’t here to have a pretty conversation that magically convinced you to lose your races. They wanted to make sure you could never race again.”

“I’ve increased the security on Checo but they seem to be focusing their energy on you.”

“Of course, Max is the bigger threat,” you stated obviously. “Anyone who can read the standings knows that.” Tilting your head towards the principal you cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You don’t happen to have half a billion hidden in your mattress?”

Christian scoffed as he swirled his drink, clinking the ice against the glass. “I’m not Pablo Escabar, and I don’t think my wife would sleep comfortably on the lumps.”

“That’s a shame, his personal army could’ve been helpful.”

“What do you want half a billion dollars for anyway?”

“Euros, actually.” You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and opened the app for the stock exchange, scrolling through the companies of interest you had saved before tossing it on his lap. “They wouldn’t sell the majority of their shares but there is a sizable chunk up for grabs. Certainly enough to get a seat on the chairboard.”

Christian looked at the trading name and chuffed at the thought of being a board member at Scuderia Ferrari before he took a sip of his drink. “Let me see what I can move about.”

“Wait, you’re not serious?” Max baulked at the idea before helping himself to your drink at the look you gave him. “Fuck, you are serious.”

“If you need a shell company I have a few old ones to spare.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Christian chuckled as he finished his drink and started to head to the door. “I’d get that fixed pronto if I were you.”

You gave him the thumbs up as he left while Max walked him to the gaping hole where the broken door used to be. “See you next week, boss.”

Walking back to your side, Max scratched his short beard and said, “I think we should go to a hotel tonight, liefje.”

A gust of wind blew through the open door and swayed the picture frames on the wall to accentuate his words. “I think you’re right, preferably one with a spa.”

He smiled as he kissed your temple, careful to avoid the swelling on your forehead. “I’m sure I can find something for you.”

Two Months Later “Shit,” Max grunted as the wind was knocked from him.

“Please don’t hurt my star driver before his final race,” Christian said as he walked into the gym and found Max bent over his knees panting.

“I haven’t touched him,” you defended yourself while you rubbed Max’s back. “The speedball took him out.”

“If anyone asks, it was Rico Verhoeven.”

You snorted a laugh. “He loves you too much to hurt you. He would probably let you take him down.”

“Probably,” Max groaned as he straightened up and cocked a brow at his boss who held a file in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Just some paperwork for you to sign,” he said to you as he held it out. “Our lovely Director here will be heading to Italy next week for her first board meeting.”

You hadn’t really missed your old line of work but you couldn’t deny there was a certain thrill to stepping into the lion’s den. Max wasn’t too happy about it, but you had convinced him not to worry, or at least accept it. Christian had been able to shift some money around to make the investment feasible and it had been collectively decided that you would be the best person to take the seat.

Now that the seat was filled you would be able to give the go ahead to your contacts and Scuderia Ferrari stocks would rise once again over the winter break, lining Red Bull’s pockets with profits. It was a win-win.

“What I wouldn’t give to see the faces of those smarmy old bastards when you walk in the boardroom,” Christian mused as you signed the last of the documents. “Benedetto doesn’t know what he started.”

Max had recovered from his winded state and pulled his boxing gloves off to have a drink, taking a seat next to Christian on a weight bench. “You are lucky I am so charming. I should get a bonus for saving the team with my good looks and wonderful personality.”

“Greedy bastard, isn’t the €55 million I am paying you each year enough?” Christian said with a burst of laughter.

“My girlfriend has expensive taste.”

“Hey, I had no problem affording my own lifestyle before I met you,” you pointed out as you stole his drink bottle and pointed to the heavy sandbag. “And I didn’t say you could have a break. Gloves back on, Prince Charming.”

“I’ll leave you love birds to it. Don’t forget dinner tonight,” Christian said as he made his way back to the door. “Oh, and try not to be beaten by a bag, Max. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Max held his gloved hand up and you knew he was trying to pull the finger inside of it. “Very menacing,” you teased as you grabbed your own set of gloves and joined him in the ring. “Shall we dance, pretty boy?”

“Do I get a reward if I take you down?”

You blew a kiss to your boyfriend and raised your hands. “How about you focus on just trying to land a punch?”

“I’m competitive, liefje, I respond best to incentives.”

“Is that right...well, in that case, how about this?” You closed the distance between you and brushed your lips along his jaw until you reached his ear. “You take me down, and you can take me down.”

His athletic stamina that kept him strong for the races showed no sign of weakening as he followed you around the ring, relentlessly trying to take you to the mat. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you ducked and spun out of his reach, and you saw his cheeks flush with the same exertion of his effort.

Deciding he had pushed himself hard enough for one day, you planted your foot and deflected the throw he made. He overextended past you, leaving his side open for you to wrap yourself around, dragging him to the thin padding on the ground and rolling until you straddled his hips.

“Good work, but it’s time to rest. You have qualifying soon.”

“I’ve already won the championship, plus I could start last on the grid and still get points,” he said with a cocky smile before he stole your signature move. He used your own momentum against you, twisting his hips as he reached across your body. The room spun as you were flipped onto your back and suddenly you were looking up at him. “I just can’t help winning, see.”

“Go on then,” you dared as he hungrily eyed your body pinned beneath his. “Take your reward.”

“We could get caught,” Max groaned as he glanced at the door Christian had left through, knowing it was unlocked.

“You’re not scared are you?”

All his blood rushed south of his brain and he found no reason to deny you both. “Fuck it.”

Dinner was a quiet affair with just the team and their families. The real party would come after the race, but you were quite content as you were when the group broke up at the end of the evening.

Geri had taken the children off to bed while the mechanics went to a nightclub nearby for a ‘nightcap’. Christian wished them a good evening and a polite suggestion to not stay out too late. It left you, Max and Christian moving to your fully stocked bar in the presidential suite and sinking into the plush seats.

“What a fucking year it’s been,” Christian laughed as he rubbed his beard.

You snorted a laugh and kicked your feet up onto Max’s lap. “It’s been exciting though, you have to admit that.”

You smiled as the two recounted their favourite parts of the season while you browsed the NASDAQ Dubai journal you had started reading before dinner.

“It’s a shame George is still sick, he can’t catch a break.”

“You think George being sick is a coincidence?” you commented as you turned the page and chuckled. “Tell me you are not that-“ you fell silent at the look Christian gave you and just shrugged. “It’s quite easy to replicate illnesses with certain substances is all I’m saying…”

“Why go after George?” Max pondered aloud while Christian sat still processing what you had inferred.

Your boss’s eyes lit up with realisation and he grabbed his phone to open the F1 app to confirm his thoughts. “Because if George scores anything above fourth place tomorrow Mercedes will beat Ferrari in the constructors championship. That’s worth a few million euros, at least.”

“Bingo.”

“Do we do anything with this information?” Max asked as he began to massage your ankle. Though he had almost come to accept the dark underbelly of the sport, he still didn’t like it and it made him nervous.

“We can’t prove it,” you said with a shake of your head as his massage glided up your calf muscle, like a cat that kneaded a spot for self-comfort. “It’s not exactly a bad thing too, Ferrari coming second. It will make for great telly seeing Toto throw a bitch fit.”

Christian nearly spilled his drink with the belly laugh that filled the suite. “I’ll cheers to that,” he toasted as he held his drink forward. “To the end of an exciting season.”

You leaned in with yours and tapped it with his and Max’s. “And to another one next year.” They both cut you a side eye and you bit your lip to suppress the smile. “Or not.”

#max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine

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kekwcomics · 1 year

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THE BARONESS #2: "DIAMONDS ARE FOR DYING (Pocket Books, 1974?)

artist uncredited

#action #action adventure #pulp #pulps #pulp adventure #spy #superspy #eurospy #euro spy #espionage #crime #vigilante #vigilantes #pulp books #vigilante books #70s vigilantes #70s pulp #1970s pulp #1970s adventure

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postoctobrist · 4 months

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does "eventually we will do every film" only include English language films? obvi you've dipped out already for euro spy and art house stuff and such but. When is Every Bollywood Film In Order season

much sooner now that you have given Devon this idea

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giallofever2 · 2 years

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#rapporto fuller base stoccolma #sergio grieco #beba loncar #ken clark #giallo fever #giallofever #spaghetti spy #euro spy #spy movie #spionage #spy movies #eurocrime #euro crime #italian giallo #gialli #giallo #italian cult #cinema cult #cult

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tspoe-pods · 6 months

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Richard Denning takes a break from hunting gillmen and scorpions to play super-spy! Well, adequate-spy anyway.

Not a bad film, and interesting having the American officer based in London. The locals do more to solve the case than our hero.

#movie review #euro spy #eurospy #mystery #action #richard denning

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sserpente · 1 year

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A/N: Requests from four anons and some of my own ideas. I thought in honour of Tom’s Jonathan Pine look making a comeback and the prospect of a Season 2, now is the perfect time for some spicy spy action! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 2881 Warnings: smut

After Roper’s death, a lot in our own life changed. You moved away from Spain and back to the UK with a fresh start in your suitcase. Your new job in the publishing industry enabled you to meet the authors of the books you were passionate about and you could help discover new talents whose stories would enrich countless readers’ bookshelves.

It was peaceful now. Safer—for at no fault of your own, it hadn’t always been like that. You were young when you fled to sunny Spain to discover yourself, learned Spanish to the point of fluency and started a job at the local library that regularly held readings for both adults and children.

It all went well, for a while. Right until little Danny Roper stepped foot in the library for the first time, accompanied by two brooding bodyguards and a charming British gentleman you, for some reason, instantly mistrusted.

Richard Roper, a wealthy businessman with a mansion all to himself. Perhaps it was unfair to assume he had blood on his hands because of how heavy his wallet was but your instinct had never betrayed you before. Soon, little Danny Roper regularly came to visit the little library, took part in the readings and had you recommend new stories to him, always under the scrutinising eye of his bodyguards or his father.

On the night of Halloween, everything changed. The kids loved the spooky holiday. They were allowed to wear costumes for the themed reading that night and you spent the entire evening before long after the library had closed decorating for the occasion. The sweets you had bought for the kids to eat had come out of your budget but seeing their wide eyes upon entering the small library on the 31st had been worth every single penny—or cent, in this case—spent.

Danny Roper came too. Dressed in a mummy costume with a face full of paper-white make-up and armed with an orange pumpkin basket for his sweets, he was one of the first kids to make himself comfortable in the reading corner in the front row. But there was someone else with them that night. Someone you had never seen around before. He didn’t look like a new bodyguard but he was handsome. Blue eyes, a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, a five o’clock shadow, and dark-blond hair you instantly felt the urge to ruffle. Your heart skipped a beat when he locked eyes with you for the first time. You could practically feel his intrigued gaze burning through your skin when you read some child-friendly Halloween stories to the kids and from then on… he kept on coming back. Sometimes in the company of Danny and his bodyguards, sometimes alone. And each and every single time he asked you for recommendations for a new horror book, borrowed one, and returned the old one giving you detailed and positive feedback that he usually delivered with a charming, British smile.

You realised soon enough that his regular visits were but an excuse to see you again—but he remained distant, never made a move to ask for your number or a date. Perhaps it was for the best, you thought at the time. If he was with Roper then he was not to be messed with, a dangerous man to be around, and not the type of guy you should wish to be affiliated with.

“I’m glad Danny asked me to join him on Halloween. You have made this place truly special,” he had said one day. “Have you known them long? The Ropers?”

Alarm bells. Alarm bells loud and clear had rang in your head and almost drowned out the sound of your book scanner when he’d slid yet another horror novel towards you on the counter.

“Only for about a year. Danny has picked up so many children’s books I will need to restock to find new novels for him at this point. Richard Roper donated ten thousand euros to the library back in January.”

“Are you the owner of this library then?”

“Oh no, I only work here. But I am in charge of all the boring accounting paperwork.” Whatever had lit up in Jonathan’s blue eyes, was gone again before you’d had a chance to analyse it. But it had been suspicious enough for you to gather all of your courage, and look around briefly to ensure you were alone.

“I… can I give you some advice? Leave. As long as you still can. Something’s not right about this man. I don’t know what that poor kid is caught up in but my hands are tied,” you had told him with a lowered voice.

Jonathan had frowned at you, pressed his lips together to a thin line. Then, without another word, he had picked up his novel and left the store.

The following night, he’d appeared seemingly out of nowhere after you’d closed the library for the day and asked you out for dinner. One dirty martini afterward led to two and that very same night, you fell asleep in Jonathan Pine’s bed in a luxurious hotel room he was staying in for reasons he had not elaborated on much.

A couple of evenings and more passionate sex—the best sex you’d ever had—later, you had shown him the donation certification, complete with all the relevant bank details. Confidential data which could have gotten you into big trouble, both with the library and Richard Roper himself. A few more nights after that… Jonathan disappeared for a while and you realised that he had only used you—and your body—for information.

It had baffled you back then, when, almost a month after, he showed up on the doorstep of the library, beaten, bruised, and half-dead. No police, no hospital, he had murmured over and over and you, having fallen in love with the man unconditionally, had hidden him and nursed him back to health. For weeks on end, Jonathan Pine lay low in the cellar that acted as an inventory for the library, living off of takeaway food you smuggled down to him day after day. He told you everything. How he had been sneaked into Roper’s family as a spy to put an end to his schemes at long last, how Roper sold deadly weapons that killed hundreds of people, and how incredibly sorry he was for putting you in all this danger.

One night, while he was still recovering from his injuries and you stayed in the library with him to make sure he didn’t develop a fever, he whispered your name in his sleep, hands blindly attempting to reach you, touch you, explore you, and pull you close.

He confessed he was in love with you the morning after and a few weeks later, after Roper had finally been arrested, you moved back to the UK with him. Here you were now, climbing up the career ladder in the publishing industry.

Jonathan had left his spy days behind for now and accepted a job as the night manager in a lovely hotel in the heart of Switzerland over the winter. You’d be apart for a few months and it had broken your heart to hear of it even though you were more than happy for him and the opportunity he had been offered.

Two weeks after his departure, your boss had asked you to join her on a business trip to that very same hotel to meet with an internationally best-selling author whose next book series was going to be translated into thirteen languages.

Jonathan didn’t know you had just landed in Switzerland. He didn’t know you were coming to stay at his hotel. The name the rooms were booked under was your boss’ assistant who Jonathan had never met before. Needless to say, when you entered the lobby and the warm air enveloped you welcomingly, scaring away the Swiss winter air, his stunning blue eyes widened. You failed to suppress your smirk, knowing very well how much he was struggling with remaining polite and professional—after all, you were with your boss and her assistant.

“Good evening! Sorry, our flight was delayed a little. I’ve got three rooms booked under the name Elsa Higgins?” the latter greeted him.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Higgins! Good evening, ladies. Please, allow me to welcome you to the Meisters. My name is Jonathan Pine and I’m the night manager. May I offer you any refreshments?”

Your boss shook the snow off of her beret and began taking off her winter coat. Jonathan was by her side instantly, helping each and every one of you out of your winter gear—even though with you, his touch lingered for just a second too long, his fingertips brushing against the back of your neck. You shivered. Fuck, you had missed him so much.

“Thank you, Mr. Pine,” you mused, watching him struggle a bit with how you addressed him before he poured you all a glass of champagne. Then, he moved behind the counter to sort out your rooms and hand you your keys while the concierges busied themselves with your suitcases and disappeared out of sight quickly.

“Our concierges will be taking up your luggage at once, as you can see. Is there anything else I can do for you in the meantime? Have you had dinner yet?”

“We have, thank you. We’re just very tired from the flight. Could you show us to our rooms? This hotel is so big, I feel like I’m gonna get lost!”

“Of course, dar-, Miss. Please, follow me.” He caught himself before the word “darling” could escape his lips. Chuckling to yourself, you stared at his sexy back and entered the lift right after him.

“He is so hot!” your boss whispered to you. Heavens, he was. He looked so handsome in that navy blue suit and the white shirt… and that tie! You had to remember to get rid of those damp panties of yours later and sneak them into his pockets somehow—because the mere thought of him taking off that tie and using it to bind your wrists together got you so wet you had to clench your legs on the way up. If only your boss and her equally yearning assistant knew you regularly had the pleasure to fuck this man…

Jonathan was reluctant to leave you behind after letting you know about the breakfast times, the pool opening times, and that he was at your service for anything at all, at all times during the night. And oh, you might just take him up on that offer…

“Thank you, Mr. Pine. I’ll be sure to call if I need anything.” You excused yourself to the bathroom and when you came back, yours and the door of your boss were still wide open, denying you the privacy you craved. Besides, Mr. Jonathan Pine had to remain professional at work. You chuckled once more, making quick work of stuffing your spoiled panties into his suit jacket. He pretended not to be fazed by it but for a spy, he was pretty bad at hiding how much he was struggling with keeping his composure.

But that was only the beginning. You were feeling adventurous tonight. And so, after wishing your boss and her assistant a good night, you got ready for bed, making yourself comfortable on the soft mattress and the lavender-scented bed sheets completely naked, and then used the phone on the nightstand to call the reception. It was shortly past two am by now. Surely, the lobby was deserted.

You hummed contently when he picked up and purred your last name with a seductive ‘Miss’ in front of it into the speaker. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, you see… I’m so lonely in this big suite, Mr. Pine. So very lonely. Is there a way you could keep me company? I am so tense from the journey,” you mused, dragging out your last “so” to the point you could hear him breathe heavily on the other end of the line.

Jonathan cleared his throat. There was absolutely no way he hadn’t discovered yet just what exactly you had shoved into his pocket. He was probably clutching at it with his free hand right now.

“Ah, well, I am afraid our masseuses don’t start their shift until seven am, Miss, but perhaps I can arrange some other… form of… relief for you.” His voice became raspier and darker the more words escaped his lips.

“Really? That would be quite wonderful. You see, Mr. Pine, the sheets are so soft and comfortable, I figured I don’t even need any sleepwear.”

Jonathan took a deep breath. A short moment of pregnant silence followed and then, “I’ll be right up, Miss.” With that, he hung up.

You giggled to yourself, counting the seconds. He must have taken the steps, for only forty-three strikes of the second hand on the clock above the massive sofa in the suite later, you heard a gentle knock on your door.

Rushing over on bare feet, you hid behind it as you opened it for him to conceal your nakedness from the bright lights in the hallway, the both of you drowning in comfortable darkness and only the pale moon shining through the massive windows illuminating both your features as soon as he’d closed the door again behind him.

“I have ten minutes,” he murmured out of breath before his lips came crashing down on yours. You laughed against his mouth, his feverish urgency instantly infecting you. Jonathan’s touch was like a fire ignited inside of you by the single stroke of a match. Step after step, he guided you back towards your bed without ever breaking the battle of tongues you fought out, his hands exploring your naked curves and kneading your butt cheeks thoroughly before pushing you down on the mattress.

Jonathan was above you within a fraction of a second, one of his knees keeping your legs apart, his hand snatching your wrists and pinning them down above your head. Finally, he released your lips to let you catch your breath for a moment.

“Naughty girl, slipping your used underwear into my pockets… you little tease…”

“Aw, I thought you’d appreciate my little gift,” you mocked—your chuckle soon turned into a moan, however, when he gently bit the underside of your left breast, followed by his tongue tasting your nipple.

Jonathan’s dark growl was unlike anything you had ever heard from him when his one free hand struggled to undo his belt and the buttons of his suit trousers. You were pretty certain he hadn’t even taken his shoes off but by the time he finally managed to push the fabric down to his upper thighs, he was as hard as a rock, his red tip leaking precum teasing your entrance.

There was no need for him to prepare you. You had been soaked and ready for him ever since your arrival at the hotel. Jonathan wasted no time. He positioned himself swiftly, pulling your legs apart even further, and then, sheathed himself inside of you with but one fluid movement.

The both of you moaned in unison, his forehead resting against yours. Jonathan kissed you again when he pulled out to thrust up into you, your hips bucking to meet him. His free hand remained where it was—right between your legs where your bodies were joined.

As he fucked you hungrily, his fingers quickly found a little toy to play with—and knowing Jonathan, he was a skilled lover. He had you on the brink of orgasm in no time, his rhythm relentless and his strokes hard.

You arched your back the closer you crept to the edge, breaking his kiss to gasp for air and throw your head back which he instantly took as an invitation to taste your neck and assault it with gentle licks, bites, and kisses.

It was the moment he released your wrists and placed one of your legs on his shoulder to rut into you even deeper, his tip brushing against all the right spots, that made you come undone underneath him. Clenching around his length, he fucked you through your climax until he too found release, only fuelling your arousal when you felt ropes of his seed coating your walls, his member jerking inside of you until eventually, he stilled and embraced you without ever pulling out of you.

“How are you even here?” he finally asked. “I’m so happy to see you, darling.”

“That I could tell.” You grinned, grinding against him and eliciting a little whimper from him in the process. “My boss is meeting a client here. She asked me to come with her, it was quite last minute. I could have called you but I wanted to make it a surprise.”

“You most certainly did surprise me, darling. You know… I think I quite enjoy you calling me ‘Mr. Pine’.”

Your grin grew even wider. “Lucky for you, we’ll be staying the whole weekend, Mr. Pine.”

Jonathan growled once more. He was on you again to stifle your laugh and had you cumming for him again long before his ten minutes were over.

A/N: Well that was fun to write! ;-)

#jonathan pine #jonathan pine imagine #jonathan pine x you #jonathan pine x reader #jonathan pine smut #the night manager #the night manager imagine #tom hiddleston

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coffee-writesthings · 2 months

Text

I made a headcanon about Scout and Spy both having EDS, soooo here's a fic i wrote expanding on it a touch. Warning for some internalized abliesm but it's dealt with pretty quickly

WC: 1k

MannCo recently sent a shipment of a variety of things: food, weapons, ammo, and a large roll of tape which Scout ordered specially for himself. It was sticky, and would look very similar to his skin-- the perfect thing to hide his slippery joints with.

He went to look through the boxes the moment he heard that the truck left. It had to be in there, and he had to get it before anyone found out. There was no way he'd be allowed to stay on the team in this sort of condition!

With a little searching, he found the right box. It was marked in large, egregious letters, "DISABILITY STUFF". He cringed at how the words glared up at him, practically shouting out to the world how 'broken' he was.

Broken or not, he needed the help, so he dug into the box-- with the help of a pocket knife. Though, what he found wasn't just his tape. There were braces of various kinds, pairs of glasses, and several bottles of what he assumed were medication.

He was dumbfounded, and at the same time wanted to kick himself-- of course his other teammates were also disabled. Medic needed glasses, Pyro needed stuff for their burn scars, Demo only had one eye for gods sake! Had he really just not considered that at all?

Really thinking about it as he dug through the boxes to find his tape, he realized that, no, he'd never thought of his team as disabled-- and they probably didn't either. They were just living life and had found things to work around whatever they were struggling with.

Underneath a sort of brace he'd never seen before lie his tape. It was a massive roll, far larger than what he'd ever used before, maybe as wide across the circle as his forearm?

With new complaints from his hips starting up, he abandoned the boxes and got to work 'fixing his life with duct tape'.

Under the dim light in the bathroom-- jeez, they really need to change that bulb out sometime-- he was able to put down some strips of tape where he felt it was needed most at the moment. Two strips starting just above his hip and trailing down to his inner thighs already helped so much. But with that out of the way, he started on his knees-- he made a sort of x shape from a little above his knee to the side of his calf with a strip of tape for each side, for each leg.

"Thank fuck, my joints are actually jointing now--" he muttered before bumping into Spy.

"Merde, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"I should ask ya the same thing."

"If you must know I'm looking for my new brace. Medic suggested it specially for my Ehlors-Danlos. Tell no one. Please."

"Oh hey, I have that same problem! Yeah, my joints are all wonky, I basically tape em together."

He winced in a way that was almost unnoticeable.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"No, nothing."

"Alright then. Make sure you get some sleep for your old bones then!"

It hit him in the face when he woke up, Ehlors-Danlos is inherited... They'd be around the same age, right? 26 and late-40s, early 50s. It's not unreasonable. He would've been... Somewhere between his age and somewhat younger.

It's not... uncommon for someone to have a kid at that age.

And there were other things too, other things that were shared between them. Their faces were incredibly similar, now that the thought about it-- one thing that the Director's visit helped with.

Something his Ma talked about once or twice came into the mental conversation with a steel chair-- his dad was french. Like, it was significant enough to warrant having a favorite french thing to watch on tv.

Damn, stuff like this had him feeling like an idiot for never noticing.

"But, what about Tom Jones--" he muttered to himself, "No. No wait. Hang on." He cursed loudly, remembering that Spy can use disguises.

That warranted a knock on the door from Engineer, "Everythin' alright in there?"

"Spy's my dad."

"Huh?"

"Spy, the 10,000-euro-suit-wearing asshole, is my dad."

"Have you... Considered talking to him about this, perhaps?" The voice that came out of that mouth was patiently off, too French for Engineer's Texas background.

"Your accent is slipping."

In a cloud of smoke, Spy dropped the disguise. "You caught me."

"So you admit it? You're my dad-- how freakin' long did you know?"

"About a year after you joined the team."

"Y'know the hell of it all? I can't even blame you, it's not like you were there most of the time. Didn't even get you for the big moments."

"I am sorry, I couldn't be around in ways you were aware of-- it would have put you in more danger than it was worth." his gaze moved downwards with his frown, "The few times I was able to, I had to be invisible. I didn't want you to become entangled in any of this."

He held back the insult, thinking better than to kick a man while he's down. "I'm still angry, but.. I guess it's at least good to know. Thank you."

Silence hung in the air for the next few seconds, not quite tense, not quite calm, but a third unknown thing. Spy broke the silence, "Do you want to see what I use for my joints?"

"Sure, maybe I can teach ya something."

"Don't get too cocky, I don't see anything you can teach me when it comes to your post-battle scores," he took a gulp of his cup of coffee.

"Oh you ass. Hey, why'd you dress up as Engineer by the way, you planning on taking him out sometime?"

"Who's to say I'm planning?"

"Well damn-- does this mean I'm getting an extra parent out of this?"

He choked, taking a few seconds to regain his breath, "You heard nothing."

#scout tf2 #spy tf2 #dadspy #tf2 headcanons #disability representation #disabilitymercs #tf2 fanfiction #writeblr #tf2

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