#remembering that they are each other longest teammates

[vsyrworld]

it's them over the years♡

[sc0tters]

Littlest Hughes - Mark Estapa

summary: when a game of beer pong turns interesting you learn to realise that your brothers friend isn't so bad after all.

trope: forced proximity

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected!), underaged drinking, swearing, fingering.

word count: 3.67k

authors note: to the people that remember when this idea came out in like November, thanks for being patient cause Mark and the beerpong fic are now here! everyone thank @hischierhaze for making this one come out long before she was actually intended to be here for you all. if you want to look at more of the 500 celly then you can do so here!

You swore you hated him. 

It was the idea of having someone you couldn’t stand in the slightest. The kind of person you couldn’t even be in a room with as you just wanted to gauge your eyes out. Someone who made you feel so irritated that the mere thought of them had you getting angry. 

Now you have weren’t entirely sure why he pissed your off in the ways that he did. But as Mark seemed to hate you just as much as you hated him, you were never going to be in a rush to improve your relationship. Yet the problem arose when he instead opted to get close to your brother, Luke. 

The boys were teammates and it was enough to make your whole family agree that your negative relationship with Mark wasn’t enough to stop him from being invited to the lake house. It was Luke’s first summer as an NHL player and those friends from college were the very men that Luke missed so much. So being the best younger sister that you were, you agreed to bite your tongue. 

That’s how you landed up spending a week with his closest friends and for the most part you were having a good time. 

“God you are such an ass!”

Key word, for the most part. 

Mark smirked as he held your top over his head leaving you in nothing more than your blue and yellow bikini “you and I both know that those aren’t the right words.” He teased continuing to lean up each time you reached for the baseball jersey “I will kick you Estapa stop being a dick.” You spat as you crossed your arms sending him a glare. 

Before Mark could respond Luke walked into the room “bro could you not leave my sister half naked?” Your older brother gagged as he shook his head “till next time kid.” Even though there was less than two years between you both Mark still loved that nickname. 

So as he dropped your shirt in your hands you couldn’t help but scowl at him “fuck off.” You growled pulling the shirt over your arms “you wanna go on the boat you two?” Jacks offer pulled your attention away from the boy as you nodded “sounds great!” You nodded leaving the boy alone as you went to be in peace for the next few days.

You weren’t a hockey player, it wasn’t your thing but what is your thing is beer pong. Yet unfortunately for you it seems that the only person worthy of being your opponent was Mark. So that was how you both ended up being the last ones left in what felt like the longest game of beer pong that anyone had seen “you two see an end in sight?” Quinn groaned as he looked down to his watch when he let out a yawn. 

It was this endless back and forth where you would each win a game and would then refuse to let them take it and that’s how you ended up at 12-13 with the only rule that to be crowned champion you’d have to win by two games “you ready to give up?” You sent the boy a glare as it only made the Michigan player laugh “just when I thought you could have been stronger than you actually came off.” The compliment was backhanded as Mark laughed. 

The boys responded with groans as the idea of this game continuing made them all feel sick “I’m going to bed.” Quinn announced as he shook his head “me too.” With that boys went in groups as your constant bickering got tiresome. 

Seven games had gone on and the new score was 16 all and you were just as irritated now as you were then “could you hold off on killing each other until tomorrow?” Ethan asked as he let out a yawn “want to watch it happen.” Mackie laughed as he nodded in agreement only going quiet when Luke sent them a glare.

Your brother rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on your shoulder “please just let him win so you can both go to bed?” Luke mumbled hoping that you would agree “never.” You grumbled as you refused to give Mark that kind of joy. 

So of course things continued and you guys were left alone but not before Luke kissed your head “now you don’t got your big brother helping you out.” Mark teased as he got the ball between his fingers as he lined up his shot. 

Mark smirked as he saw you pull your hair into a hair tie “tryna distract me with your skin?” The boy mumbled seeing your collarbones pop through the red cami vest that your were in “cause it’s not gonna work.” He added making you laugh. 

It was a hearty one as your teeth caught your lower lip “please the mere thought of tits are gonna have you not seeing straight.” You pressed your hands against the table exposing your body more to him “you wanna bet?” Mark made little effort to ignore the white lace that so clearly stuck out of your top. 

He took your silence and furrowed eyebrows as curiosity “winner takes all this game.” The hockey player offered making her scoff “higher stakes though as we’re now doing strip beer pong.” His offer was only met with the sounds of your scoff.

You crossed your arms as you couldn’t help but send him a glare “you just want to see me naked.” You rolled your eyes not wanting to give into him “don’t flatter yourself princess you aren’t my type.” Mark shook his head as he wasn’t interested in you like that “but if you are scared you’re gonna lose then I can accept-” you couldn’t even let him finish his sentence. 

“Throw the damn hall Estapa.” 

A scoff left your lips as you watched him go back to angling the hall and of course it just had to land in the beer “should we go with your shirt or your shorts first?” Mark teased as he watched you hook your fingers into your shirt before you pulled it over your head revealing the white bra you loved so much as it had a little golden v in between the wires to compliment your skin “not bad.” The boy mumbled to himself as he had seen you in less before but never in something with lace. 

You took your cup and brought it to your lips letting the unsweetened liquid hit your tongue as you chugged it back not caring at the amount that dripped down your chin “what?” You asked dropping the cup to the ground as the boy looked like he was watching a dream “nothing.” Mark ignored how your lips were wet and the top of the lace of your bra as getting soaked as beer dropped down your chest. 

Of course your ball went in and off went his shirt, it was followed by your shorts and then his. Until eventually you were both only on your undergarments “need some help getting that bra off?” Mark joked as he watched you reach behind your back but not before you flipped him off. 

The idea of anyone being able to come down at any point didn’t seem to bother either of you as you clicked the clasp of your bra letting it fall down your arms as the cool summer night air made your nipples harden “you really do have secrets Hughesy.” Mark felt his mouth water as his eyes were drawn to the sparkling titanium bar that was pierced through your left nipple “shut up.” You grumbled as you attempted to ignore the way his hardening stare made you feel. 

As you potted your final ball it left the boy having to discard of his boxers “don’t bother with those.” You mumbled leaning down to grab your bra from the floor “would hate to see what isn’t there.” The claim was a total slap in his face and you knew what you were doing as you aimed to piss him off. 

It infuriated Mark with how well you knew to get under his skin “please you’d be lucky if I fucked you.” You began walking over to him as your bra was thrown onto the table “Mark I don’t think you even know how to make a girl come.” You shot back as you pressed your finger into his chest “I’d have you struggling to walk tomorrow.” Mark shook his head as he wrapped his hand around your wrist pushing your hand away from his chest.

This was the closest you had ever been to him before as his eyes pierced yours “I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on this planet.” You laughed as you turned to walk away but the boy was quick to pull you back “so if I felt those pretty little panties would they be dry?” His voice was barely a whisper as he walked you back against the table until you were finally sat on it.

Your eyes were wide as you shook your head desperate to not give him the enjoyment of seeing that he had indeed won “be as dry as the desert.” You spoke through gritted teeth almost squealing as Mark dug his fingers into the skin of your hips “you gonna let me test my theory then?” He asked dropping his head to the point where his lips hovered over yours.

All you could do was nod as you before his lips were on yours. It was messy as your hands your tugging through his hair like you didn’t want him to ever leave you “fuck.” He grumbled feeling your teeth sink down onto his.

It was like you knew what you were doing as you smirked “even as I’ve got you ready for a good fuck you’re still acting like a fucking brat.” The college boy growled pinching your chin between his fingers as he clenched his jaw “what are you gonna so about it?” You sent him a smirk as you swore that if this was a battle, you were winning it.

Mark spoke to himself under his breath as he dropped his head to your jaw as he began planting kisses on your skin “shouldn’t even fucking treat you well.” His voice sent shivers through your ears as he continued dropping his lips down your chest “saw you looking at it.” His eyes locked onto your breast “you can touch it y’know.” You teased tugging your fingers through his hair making him groan in the process. 

He wasn’t going to be told again as he latched his lips around your pierced nipple as he groaned swirling his tongue around the piece of jewellery “fuck.” You swore trying to shut your legs to relieve the tension between your thighs “you still think that I can’t make you feel good?” Mark brought his hands down to your legs making you shiver as he forced your legs open. 

You chewed at your lip watching him get closer to the pool that had formed in your panties “when I speak you need to answer me princess.” You swore the hockey player growled as you nodded “know you can’t.” The tough facade you had up was hanging by a thread and it only grew weaker with how his hands grew closer to your core.

A gasp left your lips as his hand cupped your core “fuck!” Your moan was swallowed by his lips “you little liar.” Mark clicked his tongue as a wet patch formed in your panties “please.” His thumb pressed against your clit where it drew soft circles.

Your head dropped against his shoulder as your body grew soft “what do you need pretty girl?” Marks voice was soft as he left a kiss on your forehead “you.” You croaked out as he toyed with your panties finally pushing them to the side. 

Mark teased you as you shook your head “want more.” You whimpered looking up at him with a pout “please.” You begged edging your cunt closer to his fingers “didn’t know that all I needed to do was fuck you to get you to shut up.” Mark sighed as he teased your slit. 

His fingers took their time plunging into your cunt “god!” Your groan was swallowed by his hand “you want your brothers to hear how much you enjoy my fingers fucking your pussy?” The hockey player rasped into your ear as you shook your head. 

His fingers were thick against the walls of your cunt as he curved his fingers into a come here motion “they can’t.” You mumbled growing panicked as you were reminded of how all three of your brothers were upstairs “then keep those pretty little lips shut if it’s not gonna be too hard for ya?” Mark tauted you as you mewled under his attention.

You clenched around him as you nodded finally going quiet “like having you all quiet now.” As you tilted your head up trying to bring your body closer to his Mark took the opportunity to nip at your neck “no!” You gasped as he inserted a third finger not caring about your protests. 

Mark smirked as he didn’t care “think you’re in a place to make the demands?” He scoffed as he clicked his tongue “thought you were smarter than that.” The hockey player teased as you pouted “the boys are gonna see.” You complained as his eyes sharpened. 

Somehow the words made his whole demeanour change “you worry what those boys are gonna think of you now?” Mark spat as he increased the pace of his fingers as he fucked your cunt “like you really gonna now care about them seeing you like the slut you’ve become f’me?” He added standing up straight as he glared at you. 

Your lips remained sealed as you tried to writhe your hips against his hand “remember pretty girl you answer me when I talk to you.” The hockey player warned “I’m your slut.” The words came from your lips as it made him grow surprised. 

The words made his cock grow hard against his boxers “you happy to see me or what?” You smirked feeling it press into your knee “think I need to fuck this behaviour out of you.” Mark grumbled pulling your panties down your legs as it hooked around your ankles. 

You had finally pushed Mark to a point where he had snapped and he wasn’t ready to come down from it yet “fuck I don’t have a condom.” The boy complained as he hadn’t exactly thought that having sex on this trip was on the cards for him “on the pill.” You shook your head offering a counter point that he gladly took. 

Being a hockey player you weren’t surprised that his cock was on the larger side of big but you had to admit that your mouth did water when he retracted his fingers from your cunt to pull his boxers down letting his boner hit his pelvic bone “you still sure that this is what you want?” Sure Mark thought you were still irritating but the even with that irritation he still believed in consent “please.” You whimpered as you bit down on your lower lip watching in awe as he pumped his cock a few times before he tapped the swollen head on your clit coating it in his precum. 

There was a moment between you both that if you weren’t still so buzzed from the alcohol in your system you would have sworn that there was something that could have mirrored something romantic between you both. His lips were soft on yours as his cock slowly creeped into your cunt letting your walls stretch to accommodate him “fuck you’re perfect.” Mark gasped as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he kept himself from coming on the spot. 

He had a few moments of just staying there with his cock frozen before you finally cleared your throat “need you to fuck me Mark.” You coughed out as the boy turned his face to look at you “please.” You didn’t need to ask twice as he nodded letting his hands grip at your hips as your legs locked behind his hips. 

Even as you were outside with the breeze your skin felt like it was on fire when his eyes pierced your gaze “how many guys you let have this tight little cunt of yours?” Mark made little effort to try to avoid the fact that he was jealous of his own question when the idea of some other guy fucking you came into his mind. 

As his cock throbbed in your core you struggled to stay focused “j-just t-tw-two.” You stammered falling over your words as his thrusts became deeper “and did they make you feel this good?” Mark swore that the image of you beneath him struggling to even shake your head as your breasts bounced with each thrust that he made, would he engraved in his brain forever. 

The first time you had sex was in high school when you lost it to your boyfriend of two years and you were both virgins. He came within a couple of pumps of his cock and left you there frustrated and alone as he went to shower only handing you a wet cloth before he shut the door behind himself. The other was a jock that was only sleeping with you to get the attention of an ex so the moment she came knocking on the door he went running back to her. 

So if you truly thought about it Mark was your first time, not the embarrassing your overly awkward one. But your first time where you knew he was confident in what he did “didn’t come.” Even as you barely whispered those words Mark still heard you and he couldn’t help but smirk. 

If anything Mark took that as a reason to quicken his thrusts as he watched your eyes roll back “gonna make you feel so fucking good then.” Your brain fog made you wonder if he was merely thinking aloud or actually talking to you “and to think that you really put up that whole act before?” The hockey players teasing tone had you clenching around him as you propped your hands up behind you to stop you from falling back. 

His hand took the opportunity to slide between your bodies as he found your clit “you’re so fucking pretty when you’re so cock drunk.” The compliment came with a groan as he began toying his thumb over your clit “not gonna last.”

You warned not caring who heard your whimper that echoed from your chest.

Mark felt his thrusts grow irregular with how you cunt squeezed his cock with the new pressure your clit felt that had you wanting to press your thighs together “go make a mess doll.” There came the softest of the pet names from the night as he kissed you lips letting his hunger and pure desire to be the first guy that has you coming on their cock, take over his mind.

All that was left for you to do was listen to him as your lips let out a gaspy moan “holy fuck!” You swore as your eyes screwed shut letting white specks scattered themselves on the backs of your eyelids like stars in the night sky “breathe through it.” Mark cooed helping you on as the movements of his thumb combined with the thrusts of his cock lulled you through the brunt of your orgasm that had your legs shaking against his hips.

Before Mark could let his orgasm take charge he slid his cock out from your cunt making sure that you had come before that and he replaced the walls of your cunt with his hand “wha-” you grew confused at his abrupt movement “oh baby you have to work for me to come in you.” He grunted watching the warm sticky ropes shoot onto your stomach. 

It made you whimper as you watched almost hypnotized by the sight “next time if you aren’t a fucking brat I might let you get it properly.” The hockey player explained tapping the head of his now soothing cock on your clit letting what was left in him ooze onto your slit “that was.” Your chest heaved as you swore that you had just had the hottest experience of your life.

Mark laughed as he nodded “I know.” He pecked your lips as he reached down to where your panties had fallen to and made the effort to slide them back onto you but not before the hockey player kissed your lips “think it’s time for you to go to bed.” A yawn left your lips as you nodded at his words. 

He finished dressing you and even opted on helping you up the stairs before he left you tucked into your sheets where you nuzzled your head into the soft pillow “maybe you aren’t that bad Hughes.” Mark mumbled feeling his heart grow full at the sight of you blissfully drifting off to sleep. 

But as he let your door softly shut after him it would seem that nothing would actually ever truly change between you both. Because at the end he was always going to be your brothers friend who pissed you off, and well you were always meant to be Luke’s hot sister.

Yet the true test that would come after this was when Mark would have to realize that you weren’t his, no he wasn’t good enough to get that right to have you under his arm at every event on campus. Instead he was destined to watch other guys fill that role one you finally grew into a more confident state. 

“Since when has Rutger had a thing for little Hughes?”

[ecoamerica]

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[gunnerfc]

Rivals | Hayley Raso x Barça!Reader (18+)

(Reader plays for USWNT & Barça (former Arsenal player))

Summary: You seem to always be facing Hayley, whether it's with the national team or for club. Each time you two get a bit aggressive with each other before it finally leads to something steamier off the pitch after an El Clásico match.

Warnings: bottom!Hayley, top!reader, nipple sucking, oral (hayley receiving), coarse language, R calling Hayley “ribbons” sarcastically, hair pulling, fingering (R receiving)

WC: 4K - my longest fic so far omg 🥴

AN: yk this is fiction because Hayley is starting… (when I catch you alberto toril)

You woke up excited and filled with energy, ready to play in your first-ever El Clásico. This game has been all you could think about for the past week. When you first signed for Barcelona, you were immediately impressed with the culture and atmosphere the team had cultivated and that is only elevated when you get to play Real Madrid. 

Your overall excitement was cut back when you remembered who played for Real Madrid. It seems that no matter where you are playing, you will eventually have to play against Hayley Raso. You two always played aggressively against each other, for both club and country. Some of your best moments have been playing against the Australian, and the same could be said for her. It was like you both were always trying to one-up the other.

Throughout the day leading up to arriving at the stadium with the team, you’ve tried your best to shake any thoughts of the Aussie from your head but she just wouldn’t leave your mind. Something about this game felt different between the two of you and you couldn’t place your finger on why. All you could hope for was a Barça win and to walk away having played the best you could, anything else that happened would stay on the pitch. 

As you were changing into your warmup kits, Keira took it upon herself to joke about your complicated relationship with Hayley. “Excited to see your little friend, Y/n,” the midfielder laughed from her spot next to you in the locker room. You shook your head at her joke, trying to get into your game-ready mode. You slightly regret telling the Lioness about how you always play harder when it is against Hayley.

As you made your way to the pitch for warmups, you could see that the Real Madrid players were already on the pitch. You tried to not make it obvious you were looking for Hayley but as you looked around the other side of the pitch, you could hear Keria laughing from behind you. You turned to give her a pointed look before subtly looking at the opposing side once more. This time, you instantly spotted the white ribbon tied in the Aussie’s hair. Before you could look away, she turned and caught you staring. Neither of you smiled, instead the look you both had was one of competitiveness. 

You spent the rest of warmups solely focused on the tasks you were told to do, each time Hayley popped into your head, you got more aggressive in your play. Jona had a look of approval at your eagerness to do well and patted you on the back as you passed him on your way back to the locker room. 

After a quick speech from Alexia and Marta, the starting eleven were standing in the tunnel waiting to head onto the pitch. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Hayley standing to your left. You had to resist the urge to turn to her fully, instead, you shook your head going over everything you had done in preparation for this game. Walking out to the pitch and doing all the pre-game things, you were focused only on the next ninety minutes. 

When the ref blew her whistle and Salma kicked the ball back to start the game you were all in. You played on the same side as Hayley so you were instantly marked by her. You could tell that she was also determined to play one of the best games of her career. 

Each time you got the ball from one of your teammates, the Aussie was right there to take the ball from you. As much as you were annoyed at her actions, you repaid the favor each time she had the ball. Neither of you were going to let the other get past and potentially break the deadlock.

It was almost half time and the scoreline remained the same as it was when the game started. Both teams were on their A-game for different reasons. Real Madrid wanted to finally claim victory over Barcelona and Barcelona wanted to extend their winning streak over Madrid.

As you battled with Hayley for the ball near the sidelines after a perfect pass from Keira, the Australian had a tight grip on your jersey, pulling you off the ball. You ended up forcing the ball out for a Real Madrid throw and with a groan you moved away from the sidelines.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless that bad, Raso, all you had to do was ask,” you huffed in frustration. You turned your back to her to focus on who you were now marking. With your back to her, you missed the flash of arousal in the winger’s eyes as she thought about you without your shirt.

After a long forty-five minutes, the ref’s whistle blew for halftime, allowing you to catch your breath. The battle between you and the Australian winger had proven to be aggressive, taking a lot more effort than any other opponent you’ve faced this season. The talk the team received at halftime seemed to light a fire inside all of you as you took the field for the next forty-five. 

Just like the first half, each team was playing their best. No one could get a good pass to set up a chance on goal and possession was split fifty-fifty. You made an effort to cut out any pass that was sent Hayley’s way, not giving her a chance to touch the ball as much as she did in the first half.

In what seemed like a rare opportunity, a pass from Ona made its way to you with what seemed like a perfect run on goal. But as you turned to start dribbling with the ball, your feet were swept out from under you and you hit the ground hard. You groaned from the pain but it was quickly replaced with anger. You could hear your teammates trying to get a yellow card shown to the Australian. 

You ignored them as you focused your attention on Hayley who was trying to plead her case to the ref. You pulled her arm to force her to face, ignoring the ref’s warnings. “What the fuck was that, Raso,” you hissed, your anger evident in your tone.

“Please, we both know I got the ball first, you should watch your surroundings,” Hayley retaliated. While she was telling the truth, you were still pissed about the tackle. 

Looking down at her due to the slight height difference between you, your jaw was clenched. "Look up, would ya? It hurts my neck looking down on you," you huffed, moving your hand to her chin to lift her head up. Hayley's jaw clenched this time as she shoved your hand away, the ref's whistle blowing before she could rebuttal. 

With a warning for both of you, the ref allowed Barça to take a free kick where Hayley had fouled you. The free kick didn’t amount to anything as the ball was sent over the crossbar from a header from Lucy. You knew if you retaliated for the foul you would be the one with a yellow or worse, so you opted to get back at the Aussie by scoring.

Hayley had been on your heels the entire game and the second you got away from her, you scored off a perfect cross from Ona. You didn't have time to think about running towards the defender before you felt Patri jumping on your back. You quickly celebrated your goal with your teammates before jogging back to the middle of the pitch for the restart. As you passed Hayley, you sent her a smug look and a quick teasing wink which earned you an eye roll in response. If she could given you the middle finger with zero repercussions, she would've. 

The scoreline stayed at one to zero for the next ten minutes before a second for Barcelona came when Aitana shot from outside the box. You had assisted her goal and were the first person she ran to when the ball hit the back of the net. As you celebrated the goal, you could see Hayley’s pissed expression as she talked to two of her teammates. Seeing the look on her face made the smile on your face grow. 

With four minutes left to play, Hayley had gotten past you and was able to get a point back for Madrid. It was your turn to wear the pissed off expression as you watched the home side celebrate. For the remaining few minutes of the game, both teams failed to score again. While you were upset that Madrid had scored, you were thrilled that your first El Clásico was a success.

You took your time shaking hands with the Real Madrid players, not in a hurry to get rid of the feeling of winning an El Clásico match. After shaking hands with Olga, you turned to face the Australian you'd been neck and neck with all evening.

"Better luck next time, ribbons?” you quipped with a smirk as you stuck your hand out for the winger to shake.

"Fuck you, Y/l/n," the brunette growled but didn’t make an effort to remove her hand from yours.

Before you could process your thoughts, you were replying with something you wouldn't have thought. "Would that finally get rid of your fucking attitude?" you questioned, the grip you still had on Hayley's hand tightening. 

Neither of you spoke, but both of your breathing was heavy. Not because you had just played an aggressive ninety-plus minutes of football, but because you seemingly just crossed into new territory. 

You didn't get the chance to say anything else before Hayley's teammates pulled her away. Her hand left a burning sensation in your own as she pulled it away. You stood in the same spot for a moment before shaking your head to collect your thoughts.

You did your normal routine of greeting the fans and signing a few things before retreating to the locker room. Your teammates were loudly celebrating yet another win over Real Madrid. You tuned them out as you sat in your cubby, your thoughts racing of a certain Australian winger. 

You quickly gathered your things to take a shower, hoping none of your teammates would question your sudden mood change. As you stood under the flowing water with your eyes closed, different images of the Australian flashed in your mind. The simple thought of her head thrown back as she moaned your name, begging you to touch her had you breathing faster. Seemingly with a mind of its own, one of your hands traced down your body as a familiar feeling grew within you. You were pulled from your thoughts just as your hand reached between your legs as some of your teammates entered the shower area. You shook your head to refocus on showering, not wanting to be in there for too long. 

As you gathered your things and made your way out of the locker room, you opened the door to face the same person who had clouded your thoughts all day. Both of you froze as you stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say. 

The decision was made for you when you were forced to move out of the way when Patri and Pina tried to exit the locker room. Patri grabbed you by the shoulder, pulling you with her towards the bus while talking excitedly about the game. You tried your best to focus on what she was saying as you turned your head back to look at the Australian. 

When you arrived back at the hotel, you headed straight for your room. You were glad that Marta, your roommate, had told you she was going to spend time with Caro in her room. With the room to yourself, you allowed your thoughts to race for the first time today.

As you lay on the hotel bed in an intense staring contest with the ceiling, your phone buzzed on the nightstand next to you. You groaned as you rolled to your side to see what the notification was. Your eyebrows furrowed as you saw a notification from Instagram. Your confusion turned to shock as you saw Hayley's name on your screen. 

hayleyraso: my place then?

yourinstagram: whats the address?

Sneaking out of the team hotel was not something you planned but as you walked to the elevator, you felt a different form of excitement fill your body. The Uber to the Australian's apartment was quiet but your mind was not. The images from the shower once again replay in your mind but now that they could possibly become reality, you didn't try to get rid of them.

You quickly thanked the Uber driver before exiting the car that stopped in front of an apartment building. You took a deep breath before heading inside and straight for the elevator. You felt your hands grow sweaty as you continued up floors. You took your time walking to her door, mentally preparing yourself for whatever was about to happen. 

You knocked softly on the door, not wanting to be disrespectful to her neighbors who were mostly likely asleep at this time. You waited for almost a minute and a half before you could hear the door in front of you unlock and be jerked open.

"Took you long enough," you huffed, your usual annoyance with the brunette making its return the moment you were in her presence again.

"Do you ever stop running your mouth," Hayley snapped, sharing your annoyance. 

"Only when it's preoccupied with other things," you smirked at the winger, confidence taking over. Hayley rolled her eyes at your words but you didn't miss the light blush that coated her face. 

Hayley's hand wrapped around the hem of your shirt, pulling through the threshold of her Madrid apartment. When you were through the door, it was closed loudly and your back was flushed against it. You bent your neck slightly as Hayley tilted her head up and your lips met for the first time. 

You fought each other for dominance, moaning in between kisses. Each kiss was heavy and deeper than the last. You lightly nipped at her bottom lip in between kisses which resulted in Hayley moaning louder. 

You pushed off the door to head towards her bedroom for a more comfortable experience. Your hands rested on her waist as hers wrapped around your neck. You pulled away slightly to whisper "jump" against her lips, signaling her to wrap her legs around your waist.  Hayley for once listened without some snarky remark and her legs were around your waist as soon as the words left your mouth. you moved your hands from her waist to hold her thighs as you navigated her apartment. It was a one bedroom apartment in the Spanish capital so you had no problem finding it despite being preoccupied. 

You found the bed almost immediately after entering Hayley's bedroom, laying the winger down as her legs remained around your waist. You propped your hands on either side of her head, Hayley held your face close in a deep kiss. Your body was almost flush with hers, but it was too little contact for the Aussie.

Your lips moved against each other in a battle, both trying to dominate the other. From under you, Hayley's hips moved against yours in an attempt to get some form of release. You smirked into the kiss, finding her desperation amusing but hot. 

"Desperate much, ribbons," you mumbled against her lips, pulling back with a small nip to her bottom lip.

Hayley rolled her eyes at your words but the fact that her hips had yet to stop their light grinding proved she wasn't annoyed. Instead of responding, the winger opted to move her hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head in one swoop. You moved one of your hands to lift her shirt off her body, the Aussie’s back arching to help the shirt come off easier.

With her shirt thrown to the floor with yours, your lips were back on her body, but this time on her neck. You left heated kisses and bites along her neck and collarbone, dark marks starting to form on her skin. One of Hayley’s hands came to rest on the back of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair as a way to keep your lips on her.

You switched to the other side of her neck to give it the same attention while one of your hands slid to the aussie’s back to unhook her bra. You pulled the material from her body, tossing it aimlessly to the floor. With the item out of your way, to moved your lips down her body with light kisses and nips as you went. When you reached the center of her chest, you moved your head slightly to take one of her nipples into your mouth. 

A loud moan fell from the Australian's mouth, her hand that was in your hair pushed you closer to her body, keeping you as close as possible. You took your time sucking the hardened bud in your mouth before you pulled away with a small “pop.” You placed a quick kiss in between her breasts before giving the other hardened nipple the same attention. 

The rocking of Hayley’s hips had sped up because of your actions, loud moans continually fell from her mouth as she tried to gain some traction where she needed you most. The hand in your hair pulled slighting, pulling you away from her chest into a burning kiss. In between kisses, one of your hands pulled at the drawstrings of the sweatpants the winger was wearing before you started pushing them down her legs. Hayley unwrapped her legs from your body so you could push the sweatpants to her ankles, she kicked them off without a care as to where they landed. 

You pulled away from her mouth to quickly rid yourself of your own pants and you noticed she opted to wear nothing under the sweatpants. You tried to hold back a teasing comment but you loved seeing Hayley react to the things you said. 

“Didn’t wanna waste any time, huh ribbons,” you taunted the Aussie, your annoyingly attractive smirk making its reappearance.

“Shut up,” Hayley groaned, though her groan turned into a moan when you leaned your head down to give one of her breasts a quick nip. 

“Still have that attitude I see,” you said in a sarcastic tone but started moving your body down, trailing kisses down her body as you did so.

“Because you won’t shut up and fuck me,” Hayley’s words stunned you for a moment before you lightly scoffed at her words, You refocused your attention on where she desperately needed you most, your smugness returning when you saw just how wet she was already.

One of Hayley’s hands remained tangled in your hair while the other held her sheets tightly. You left light kisses on the inside of both her thighs as you moved her legs to rest over your shoulders. Hayley’s breathing had picked up in anticipation, waiting for you to finally give her some form of pleasure. 

Your tongue licked up her dripping core, moaning as you tasted her for the first time. The vibrations of you moaning against her had her back arching and her hand pushing you closer. You didn’t hold back as you dove back in, your tongue working quickly and harshly. The grip on your hair tightened as Hayley's moans grew louder. You were thankful for how late it was, hoping that her neighbors were in a deep sleep and wouldn’t be able to hear her.

You moved your mouth up slightly to suck on her clit as your hands wrapped around her thighs. You sucked harshly on the hooded bud, pulling away with loud noises following. Hayley’s hips were once again rocking up for more pleasure, this grinding against your face looking for her release. You didn’t let up as you alternated between sucking on her clit and thrusting your tongue inside her.

Hayley’s legs squeezed around your shoulders as she felt a familiar feeling in her stomach. Between her legs, you could hear her broken moans and pleas of “faster,” “don’t stop,” and “more.” You sped up your movements, desperately wanting to bring her over the edge for the first time that night. The Aussie was moaning your name in what could almost be described as a chant and it drove you crazy that the thoughts you had earlier did become reality.

Hayley’s back arched off the bed and with her eyes tightly closed, she came hard against your mouth. You didn’t slow down, wanting to help her ride out her high but also because you couldn’t get enough of her. 

How you two haven't got this far before, you weren't sure. But now that you’ve been with her and tasted her, you’d be damned if you two didn’t do this more often. Especially since it wasn’t a long journey between your two cities.

With her hand in your hair, Hayley pulled your hair to pull you away from her, too sensitive for you to continue your movements at the moment. She unwrapped her shaking legs from around your shoulders, allowing you to move up her body.

Your lips met hers in a deep kiss, both of you moaning at the taste of her on your lips. Before you could realize what was happening, Hayley had you lying on your back as she straddled your waist. Your head was thrown back as she left her own marks along your neck, not caring that you would have to hide them before returning to the hotel.

Hayley busied herself with stripping you of your underwear before repaying the favor. The winger’s skilled fingers not needing any prep before sliding into your soaked core. Your head was bent back against her pillows as she skillfully moved her fingers in and out of you. Hayley left even more marks on your hips and thighs while thrusting her fingers inside you.

“Hayley, please,” you croaked out, moans filling the rooms once more. Hayley nipped at your skin at your words as her fingers sped up, working on quickly bringing you over the edge.

Having been close just from pleasuring her, it didn’t take long for you to reach your first orgasm. You came around her fingers while she continued her thrusts. Hayley eventually slowed her fingers before pulling them out of you as you whined from the loss of contact. 

You opened your eyes to meet hers just as she lifted her two fingers to her mouth to clean them. Hayley moaned at the taste and you moaned at the sight of her sucking your cum off her fingers. You sat up so you were level with the winger and pulled her into a kiss, though this one was more loving than any other kiss you had shared before.

You two spent the rest of the night pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other. The annoyance you held for each other disappeared with each one and it turned into something different and you were sure the two of you would continue to test this new boundary with each other. You weren’t sure if it would turn into anything romantic or simply stay at having sex but you weren’t complaining. 

You were grateful the team opted to have a rest day in Madrid instead of traveling back to Barcelona the next morning. Otherwise, you would have had to explain why you weren't in the hotel which would have resulted in some form of punishment from the coaching staff and insufferable amounts of teasing from your teammates. You had woken up before Hayley and quickly rushed to get dressed. You left the apartment quickly while trying to order an Uber back to the hotel. When you were situated in the car, you opened Instagram to send the Australian a direct message:

yourinstagram: sorry I had to leave so quickly, had to get back to the hotel before anyone noticed. We should do this again sometime, I don’t think I got rid of your little attitude, ribbons.

[starryeyedjanai]

catch the embers on my tongue

kinktober prompt: frottage; @eddiemonth prompt: crush explicit | 5.2k

read on ao3

Steve's leaning into Eddie's side and they are high, high, high.

It's about time they got high together. After everything they've been through, and after he spent months recovering from wounds so deep they didn't know if he was going to make it, Eddie thinks they deserve this.

He hasn't smoked in months, the longest he's gone since the first time he tentatively took the joint from some kid he was hanging out with back in like middle school.

He hasn't been able to - the damage to his entire body was rough, his lungs were just one of many things that will probably never be the same. But it's been long enough, he figures. It doesn't ache when he breathes anymore, his body on the up and up.

So he invites Steve over to smoke with him because he remembers selling to him a handful of times when he was in high school, Steve showing up at his locker or waiting by his van after school sometimes. He remembers always wondering back then what Steve would be like when he was high. If he's the talkative type, the paranoid type, the quiet and contemplative type, the horny type.

Even he can admit he's thought about Steve enough to have thoughts on all of those situations and musings about how he'd handle each of them.

But he's not exactly prepared for Steve to be handsy, to be giggly and leaning into him and joking and touching him casually. Because sober Steve keeps his hands to himself, Eddie's noticed.

He's had a theory for years now that Steve is probably touch starved, from not having his parents around much, from the only form of intimacy other than sex being clapping his friends or teammates on the shoulder.

And knowing him now, actually knowing him, he knows he was right. Because Steve is somehow so touch starved that he's touch averse with most people, like he can't handle it, the lightest brush of someone's hand oh his skin has him dodging out of the way to avoid it.

The only person he isn't like that with is Robin. And Dustin has speculated enough times why that might be that Robin eventually came out to the group just to get them all to stop talking about it - well, that and she trusts them. It felt like Eddie's heart was going to burst in his chest at being part of that trusted group.

So Steve doesn't really touch people, doesn't reach out for any of the group for hugs, doesn't really cuddle with anyone during movie nights.

But high Steve, he touches.

They don't even finish the joint they're sharing, because it's been a while for both of them. Eddie's feeling the pleasant buzz under his skin, his lips feeling cold and tingling a little when they're barely halfway done with it. He stubs it out when Steve bows out of taking it from him.

Without the joint to pass between them, they talk. One of his hands somehow ends up in Steve's grasp. He touches Eddie's fingers, plays with his rings, as he talks.

It's mostly chatter that Eddie mostly can't keep up with as he acclimates to the way his brain feels less fuzzy than it has in months, the background noises fading away until all he can hear is Steve, all he can feel is Steve's fingers spinning one of his rings around.

He feels grounded, kind of, focusing in on Steve's voice, watching his mouth move as he talks. He's calmer than he's felt in months, feels less out of control, sitting on his bed next to Steve, letting him touch his hand.

It's only a handful of minutes later when they're laughing about something or another, when out of nowhere Steve puts his hands on Eddie's chest and pushes him down on his bed in what has to be a moment straight out of Eddie's wet dreams before he realizes that Steve is pressing him into the bed because he wants to cuddle with him.

It still has his heart racketing in his chest even after realizing, because he's so close to Steve. Their faces are pressed close together and he can feel the several points of contact between them like a brand on his skin.

It's one of those weirdly hot September days, so they're both in shorts. Steve's wearing a sweater even though Eddie knows he has to be hot in it. Even with the sweater on, this is more skin contact than Eddie is used to with anyone.

He realizes now, in this moment, that he too has become a little touch starved since everything happened.

He couldn't handle a lot of touch in the beginning, his body healing, his skin scarring over in a lot of areas. The scar tissue was sensitive for a long while even after it was safe to touch, so the party and his friends stopped touching him - he'd flinch or brace himself when people got near, ready for the ache or pain or sensitivity that comes with touch nowadays, so they stopped touching him as much to spare him of that.

And now, laying here, pressed up against Steve Harrington, of all people, he's realizing how much he craves touch, how much he's missed having someone's skin against his like this, even platonically - not that he has much experience with things being not platonic.

But his friends stopped touching him because any touch hurt him for a while and then they just kind of haven't started again.

They're probably waiting on a cue from him, he guesses. It's what he'd do, if touch suddenly hurt one of his friends. He'd wait for them to say it was okay, or to initiate touch, before he started cuddling up to them again.

So even though he knows cognitively that's likely the reason, there's a thread of a darker thought that passes through his head, that maybe his friends don't touch him anymore because he's somehow even more of a freak than before. That his scars make him untouchable, undesired, that even the freaks of Hawkins don't want to touch him.

He shakes himself free of those thoughts. He knows that's just his brain being dumb. His friends don't care what he looks like, they never have. If they did, they wouldn't be his friends anyway - that's not the kind of company he keeps.

He tries to get back to the feeling of finally having someone's warmth against his skin after a long, touch-starved drought, calming his thoughts again so all he feels is Steve.

He likes it, he finds - the warmth. Steve's skin is hot to the touch, the air around them warm from having the air conditioning off.

He likes this, probably too much, hasn't had enough touch in months, and Steve is the one here giving it to him.

He likes this and he's been unknowingly craving this. That's a dangerous combination.

He wants to burrow deep, to pull their clothes off so he can get even more skin contact. He wants to feel the whorls of his fingertips dragging on Steve's own scars, because he's maybe the only one who can appreciate it. He's maybe the only one who can understand this - what it's like to want to be touched but not be able to be, to feel like maybe the scars are the reason why he's not getting the touch he needs.

He feels the heat seeping from Steve's skin against his and he wants to wrap himself up in that warmth. After a moment of contemplating whether it would be a good idea or not, he does it anyway.

He's spent months not being able to do the things he wants to do, is the thing.

He's spent months not getting high, not really being able to have his friends touch him without it hurting, not being able to get out of bed, not being able to stand for too long without it hurting. He's spent months bored out of his fucking mind while his body healed from something more traumatic than he ever thought he'd go through.

He thinks he's allowed to have this. He thinks he's allowed to enjoy this, even.

So he pulls Steve closer to him, impossibly close, pressed together all the way from their chests to their shins, legs tangling together. He tucks his head in close, rubs his face against the soft fabric of Steve's sweater.

"I've missed this," he finds himself saying, sighing into Steve's shoulder.

Steve pulls back a little to be able to look at Eddie's face when he asks, "Getting high?"

Eddie snorts. "Yeah, that. But also, this," he says, trapping one of Steve's legs between his and squeezing it between his. "I feel like no one touches me anymore."

There's more he could say, the introspective thoughts about how he gets it - the self-deprecating jokes about his scars bitter on his tongue. But he doesn't say it because Steve already gets it. He has similar scars. Scars that run along his back and his torso and his neck. His neck scar is still visible in most shirts. Eddie knows he gets it.

"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I think I missed this too."

They've never touched like this before, never spent an afternoon curled up together, and he wishes he could go back in time to tell himself to befriend Steve, so they'd get more moments like this. So they'd get thousands of moments like this before all the bad stuff happened.

His brain conjures up the image of high school Steve in his bed in his old trailer. He thinks of Steve's coiffed hair and his polos and barely contains the laugh bubbling up in his chest. He'd look so out of place there.

But Eddie doesn't think he would have been, not really. Not after he lost his crown, after his downfall from King of Hawkins High. He thinks Steve would have fit right in with the rest of Eddie's things - his sweetheart, his posters, his rack of cassette tapes, his Steve. Eddie thinks he would have liked Steve in that room, surrounded by all of Eddie's favorite things.

But he knows his past self wouldn't have allowed it. Even though Steve had changed by his senior year, Eddie was still very much subscribed to a nerds versus jocks dichotomy.

He doesn't think he would have allowed Steve to get close enough to him to be someone he invited over, someone he invited into his room, his space, the only place in Hawkins that was really Eddie's. He would have been too paranoid that Steve would have been trying to pull something over on him.

He's pulled from his thoughts by Steve putting his hand on Eddie's side. He's not touching his skin, but Eddie still flinches. The skin has long since healed over into scars that sometimes pull weird with sudden movement, making it feel like the skin is going to crack open.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispers. "Do your scars still hurt? I should have probably asked that before tackling you to the bed."

"No," Eddie says. "They don't hurt. The skin's just weirdly sensitive sometimes. You can keep touching me. It's fine." The second the words are out of his mouth, his face is on fire.

You can keep touching me. That's a loaded sentence if he ever heard one.

Steve either doesn't notice or doesn't care that his face is beet red. He just returns his hand to Eddie's side, where his shirt has ridden up a little. This time, instead of letting his hand rest over Eddie's side on top of his shirt, he pushes his shirt up more, spreading his big hand over the expanse of Eddie's largest scar.

God, his hands are so big. And this is so not the time to be thinking about that.

The feeling of Steve's hand on him makes Eddie shiver. He tries to suppress it, but it wracks its way through his body regardless.

He knows Steve feels it. He has to, with the way his body is pressed so close to Eddie's. There's no way he misses it, the full body shudder, the way his breath hitches a little because of it.

Steve doesn't say anything, but he thumbs at the scars on Eddie's side, right where the scar meets his unmarred skin.

He's being so gentle with him that it makes Eddie want to whine. It makes him want to whine and rock his hips against Steve's, the delicate way he's touching him, just the slightest pressure of his thumb on his skin. It's like a tease, almost. It's like Steve wants Eddie to feel like this, like he knows exactly what touching him like this is doing to him.

Eddie tries to get his bearings right again, tries to be normal about this, but he's high, and it's been so long since he felt good like this. Part of him wants to give in completely, right away, wants to, to knock Steve onto his back and climb on top of him. Wants to press his entire body weight onto him, feel every inch of his skin against his own.

But he knows that's crazy. Even if Steve were receptive to the things that Eddie wants, he doesn't think Steve would want to jump right in. He seems to be the type that would want it to go a little slower, to want to be wooed in bed. He's the type to hold hands during sex and look deeply into his lover's eyes for the connection. At least, that's what Eddie assumes about him, anyway, from the way he talks about relationships and love and what he wants his future to look like.

So even as high as he is, he knows Steve probably wouldn't want to be pushed around like that, at least not at first.

The longer Eddie thinks about it, the longer he has Steve so close to him, the longer he has his hands on him, the more Eddie craves it. He's never wanted like this before, he doesn't think.

He's not super experienced beyond quick and dirty hand jobs or blow jobs. He's never had someone touch him like this before. Touching just to touch. Any touching during his previous encounters were just the quick preliminary touches to get the other guy out of his jeans. The touches didn't linger. They certainly didn't feel like this.

He tucks his head close to Steve's neck again, lets his lips just barely brush against the skin there, tries to keep his breath even. It could be written off as an accident, that he just got too close, because they're already so close. Steve could ignore it.

He doesn't.

He slides his hand down Eddie's side, past his hip to grip his thigh and hitch it up near Steve's hip. Eddie can't keep the gasp from escaping his mouth.

He's already half-hard, just from thinking thoughts about Steve. How the hell is he going to survive this?

Steve's hand travels back up the back of his thigh, stops right before it reaches his ass.

Eddie's heart is beating so fucking fast in his chest.

He pulls back to look at Steve. His eyes are dark, and his lips are red like he's been biting them. Eddie wants to bite them, too.

"Steve," Eddie says, unsure exactly what to say, what he could say to get Steve to want this. Does he have to convince him? Does he have to tell him it doesn't have to mean anything? It would be a lie - it would mean something to him. But if Steve only wants this now, when he's high, Eddie thinks he can handle that. He thinks he can be okay with it, if it means he gets to have this right now.

Steve shushes him though, doesn't seem to need any convincing before he leans in and kisses Eddie.

Eddie lets out a shuddering breath against his mouth.

He hadn't realized how much he's been wanting this because he never really let himself think about it. It's not just touch, not just anybody's touch, not just anybody's kiss, that he craves. It's Steve's touch, Steve's kiss. It's Steve's lips against his, Steve's body against his.

He obviously knows Steve is attractive, but they've grown close over the past few months.

He thinks Steve is probably one of the best friends he's ever had. And of course, with that comes other feelings because how could it not? How could anyone look at Steve and not want? How could anyone know Steve and not want him?

Eddie hasn't been thinking about it, about how he looks at Steve sometimes, about how he watches him. He hasn't thought about it because he knows what it means when his heart beats faster because of it. He knows what it means when his heart feels like it could burst out of his chest when he makes Steve laugh. He knows what it all means, so he hasn't let himself think about it.

But with Steve pressing sweet, gentle kisses against his mouth, the feelings slam into him. He's wanted this so bad.

This impossible crush, these impossible feelings that he has tried so hard to ignore, tried to get to lay dormant when he became friends with Steve, come rushing to the surface with him so close like this, with his mouth on Eddie's like it belongs there.

He pulls Steve's bottom lip into his mouth and bites it. He can't not. Steve gasps against his mouth.

He sucks on his lip gently, tongues at it to soothe the sting away, and hears Steve let out a sigh.

Steve's hand is still on his thigh, trapping his thigh against Steve's hip. He wants his hands on him, wants Steve to touch him everywhere.

He licks into Steve's mouth, slow and deep, their tongue sliding against each other like they've got all the time in the world.

Eddie's hand has been idle against Steve's chest, but he needs to touch, needs to feel him. So he slides his hand up to cup Steve's neck, to tilt his head to better lick into his mouth. He keeps his hand there, fingertips brushing the scar on his neck, his thumb digging into the hinge of his jaw.

He kisses him and kisses him and kisses him, until all the air in his lungs is gone, until he's hard in his shorts, until his lips feel swollen.

Steve's hand stays stubbornly on his thigh, not moving an inch up towards his ass. Eddie might be a little offended by it if he couldn't feel the way Steve is also hard in his shorts, if he hadn't just spent ten minutes getting to know the inside of his mouth.

He likes this so much, he realizes. He's never been the type to savor it - he hasn't ever really had the opportunity to. The few times he's had anything like this, it had to be quick, it had an expiration date, it had to be over as soon as possible. He's never just sat around and kissed someone until his jaw hurt, until his lips were aching.

He didn't expect it to be this easy, to just put a tiny little thread in the loop and have it spin so easily for him. He didn't think that maybe Steve had been wanting this too, craving this for just as long as he had.

He couldn't even imagine it - Steve, looking at him and wanting, Steve watching him when he's not looking the way that he watches Steve. He can't wrap his mind around it, Steve looking over at him being a dumbass in so many situations and still being like, yep, I want his tongue in my mouth.

But it feels like that's what this is. Because Steve's kissing him with just as much hunger. Steve's kissing him and has his hand on his thigh, gripping him like he owns him. Eddie wants him to push him on his back, to spread his thighs open and show him just how much of him he owns. He wants him.

He pushes his hips forward experimentally, a slow grind. It makes Steve groan against his mouth. The sound is addictive - Eddie wants to chase that sound, to make Steve groan over and over and over as he chases his pleasure between Eddie's thighs.

Steve bites his lip, harder than Eddie had bitten his, and it stings. They've been at it for so long that Eddie's lips were already getting swollen and sensitive, so Steve biting one of them like that pulls a moan out of him.

He pulls back, breathing heavy, to kiss his way down Steve's neck, to bite at his neck. He wants to cover him in marks - deep, purpling bruises. He wants to see his neck and his chest covered, a molten mess of love bites.

His heart stupidly stutters in his chest at the thought of biting a bruise the shape of a heart into his skin. God, he's so gone for him. He has a heart boner for him in addition to a regular one.

He pulls the neck of Steve's sweater down and sucks a bruise into the smooth, tan skin of his collarbone, and when he pulls back, the skin is a deep red. He smiles at his work, knows it's going to deepen in color with time. He's never felt possessive like this before, like he wants to cover him in bruises so everyone knows he's someone's, so everyone knows he's Eddie's.

Is he Eddie's?

The look in his eyes when Eddie looks back up at his face says yes.

Steve pulls Eddie on top of him, their bodies flush together again, and gets a hand in his hair. He tugs his head to the side so he can bite at Eddie's neck the way that Eddie was just gnawing on his. It startles a moan out of him. He didn't know his neck was so sensitive.

He lets Steve suck a bruise into his skin and tries not to accidentally come because of it. All the kissing, their bodies pressed together, their cocks hard and grinding together through layers of fabric - it all feels like so much, too much almost.

He's on top of him, but he doesn't feel in control right now at all.

He can barely stop himself from grinding down and coming in his underwear like a teenager. He wants it, wants to come with Steve's mouth on his skin.

Steve kisses his neck, where his skin is likely bruised now, before he pulls back, thumbing at the mark like he's satisfied he left his mark on Eddie as well.

Steve releases his hair from his grip and slides his hand down between them. Eddie can't stop the groan that leaves his mouth at feeling Steve palm at him.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and Eddie isn't sure what he's talking about - his hand touching Eddie's dick? Hell yeah, that's okay. This entire thing? Again, hell fucking yeah.

He nods, because any way you spin it, everything they've been doing is a-okay with Eddie.

Steve grins up at him and Eddie can't help but grin back at him, still in awe that this is happening.

Steve undoes the buttons on Eddie's shorts and unties the tie at the waistband of his own shorts.

Eddie sits up to shove his shorts down and off, watching Steve do the same, leaving his shorts around his thighs.

He looks at Steve's bulge, his cock hard and straining in his underwear. He wants to lean in and put his mouth on it. Get the fabric nice and wet with a mix of his spit and Steve's precome. He wants to suck it through the fabric, tongue at the soft fabric and pull noises from Steve the entire time.

He wants to put his mouth on Steve's thighs. They're paler than the rest of his tan skin, milky and smooth. He wants to see that skin mottled and bruised too.

He can wait for those things, though. He thinks he has time. The thought makes him damn near giddy - the thought of more, of doing this again and in different ways, in every way possible. They haven't even made each other come yet and he's thinking about all the other ways he wants him. He's so far gone on him.

When Eddie lowers himself back down, he tries to keep his reaction to their cocks rubbing up against each other through their underwear to a minimum, but he feels a shiver run through him. It feels overwhelming, and they aren't even naked, aren't even touching cocks with nothing separating them.

He thinks that would probably be enough to make him come immediately, feeling the velvety skin of Steve's cock against his own as they grind together, if how overwhelming this feels is any indication. He feels like he's just a few breaths away from shoving his hips down and humping Steve with abandon until he's making a mess of both of them.

He grinds down against him slowly, trying not to overwhelm himself. He presses his mouth to Steve's again, tangling his tongue with his as his hips move. He rolls his hips against Steve's, their dicks pressed together tightly.

He pulls back to look down at the way they're pressed together and he groans. There's a wet spot on Steve's underwear where he's leaking precome into the fabric. He's losing his goddamn mind.

He sits up and pulls his shirt off so he has a moment to take a breath.

He leans back in and grinds down on Steve again, pushing Steve's sweater up, not sure how he's even still wearing it. Eddie's sweating and he was only in a short sleeved shirt.

Steve enthusiastically pulls his sweater up and in the excitement, it gets a little tangled getting over his head, so they have to stop grinding against each other to figure it out. Steve's head pops out of the head hole of his sweater and Eddie can't help but sit up and laugh. Steve arms are caught up in his sweater, awkwardly making his arms box his head in.

He looks flushed and aroused and out of breath from struggling with his sweater and his hair is a mess, but he's still so unfairly pretty.

Steve pouts at him and says, "Don't laugh at me. Help me out of this?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Eddie says with a grin, sliding his hands up to push the sweater up a little, exposing more of Steve's biceps. Eddie wants to bite them. "I kind of like having you at my disposal here."

He says it as a joke, mostly, ready to help Steve get his arms untangled from his sweater. But he sees the way Steve's eyes darken, sees the way he licks his lips like he likes that thought, the thought of being at Eddie's mercy.

He asks, "You like that?" because he has to be sure he isn't reading this wrong. Steve nods his head, slow and sure.

So Eddie grinds his hips down slowly, pushes Steve's sweater up more, to free up more of his arms. He pushes his hands into the arm holes of the sweater and tangles his fingers with Steve's hands where they lay draped above his head. He knows their hands are going to get sweaty underneath the fabric of Steve's sweater, but he doesn't care right now.

He presses his weight more fully onto Steve, uses his hands to press Steve's into the mattress as leverage. He spreads his legs, knees digging into the bed so he can roll his hips against Steve's harder, still keeping the pace slow and steady.

"Fuck," Steve says on a breath out, keening at the rough way Eddie's cock is sliding against his.

They're breathing the same air, not really kissing, mouths barely an inch apart.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods desperately. He closes the gap between their mouths and licks at Steve's open mouth, his tongue brushing past Steve's lips, tasting him.

His brain is only a little hazy, but Steve's tongue feels hot against his, hot like the embers at the end of the joint they just shared.

He rocks down against Steve faster, picking up the pace, feels the vibration of his moans against his mouth more than he hears them.

He feels the familiar coiling in his stomach, the tightening of his core muscles that tells him he's going to come soon.

He gives into it, huddling impossibly closer, hips moving faster, less controlled than before. He's sweating, his hands on Steve's are damp, beads of sweat rolling down his neck. But he keeps going, he's so fucking close.

"Stevie," he whispers against his mouth.

Steve nods, says back, "I'm gonna come."

Yeah, yeah.

So Eddie releases one of Steve's hands and gets it between them, squeezes Steve through his underwear. He lets Steve jerk his hips up against his hand, chasing his orgasm. He curls his hand around Steve more firmly, hears the curse that falls from his lips.

He bites at Steve's bottom lip, the feeling of his cock riding up against the back of his hand as he gets Steve off overwhelming, Steve's gasping breaths and groans the only thing he can focus on.

Steve lets out a sharp cry and Eddie feels the wet heat of his come seeping through Steve's briefs. He strokes Steve's cock through his briefs, feeling him tremble a little when it gets to be overstimulating.

Steve, having finally weaseled his hands out of his sweater, rubs his hands up and down Eddie's back gently as he comes down.

It's the tenderness, this moment of connection, that has Eddie leaning down and pressing his teeth into the soft skin of Steve's neck.

He's still riding close to the edge and now feeling the satisfaction of making Steve come. He turns his hand over and barely has to put any pressure on his dick before he's coming too, his open mouth pressed against Steve's throat.

He pants through the waves of it, feeling his briefs get stickier and wetter with each pulse.

He's shivering when it's over, the sweat on his skin drying, the come in his underwear cooling.

His hand feels sticky when he pulls it away and he wonders if he'd taste a combination of their come if he licked his palm right now. His cock jerks painfully at the thought.

He rolls off Steve, sated and sweaty, breath still shaky.

Steve reaches between them and laces their fingers together.

"Are we- what are we doing?" he asks, a little nervous, looking over at him.

Steve brings their entwined hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Eddie's hand.

"Whatever you want," Steve says easily, letting their hands fall between them again.

Eddie steels himself and bites the bullet. "And if I want everything?" he asks, heart in his throat.

Steve smiles shyly at him and squeezes his hand. "I can work with that."

[blasphemecel]

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

[landofadonises]

Adonis Sports Cup & Olympics Festival - Watersports

Everyone, tune in! September's here! The Adonis Sports Cup & Olympics Festival is everything male masculinity put to movement and action, dressed in the skimpiest uniforms allowed for the sport, for the sake of movement, of course! This is where we figure out just which set of adonises are the best of the best!

Today, we'll be covering the watersports category of this year's festival--classic swimming, water polo, and a more recent emergence, water wrestling, finally being played at the festival this time around! The council's quick!

The swimmers this year are looking lithe and ready to thrive--flaunting their massive stompers as they prepare in the steam room, laxing up before they get to swingin' and kickin'! Remember, folks, you're a few years too late if you think anyone with less than a size 74 shoe is getting into this tier of league--for our friends over the pond, that's a minimum of a 32-inch-long foot! The bigger the better, though, and this year, it looks like we're graced with our first size 97 swimmer, a flipper in its own category that's just shy of 40 inches long!

Water polo's up to bat next, folks, and these men with the boulder shoulders have the pool looking more like a quarry than anything else! Look no further for some Dorito™-shaped hunks, built to span the width of the pool just from three of them, and they've had to increase the width of the goal yet again this year, as these men just seem to keep getting wider! The council has also announced that, if trends continue, they'll have to reduce the player count on each team from the recently-changed 6 to 5 already, because they're running out of space in the pools! No good shoulder-checking your teammates every time you twist and turn! We've got shoulder spans checking in ranging from 3 ft 7 inches to 4 ft 9 inches, and forget about wingspans--we got tired of measuring and were getting a little too close to running out of tape measure!

And finally, welcome to the festival debut of water wrestling! A fan favorite for the longest in varsity and collegiate play, we have three weight categories established this year, and the council's got a sense of humour--hunk, beefcake, and titan! The rules are a bit changed from what you're all used to, though! Due to the size of some of these men, the objective has changed from just getting the other competitor fully-submerged... you've now got to get them to the outer fifth of their side of the pool! It should be an interesting watch, but from our point of view, not all-too-thought-out, since these titans are waist-level standing up in the pool! Seems like the council just wanted a splash zone that'd make SeaWorld weep! Stay tuned to witness these mass monsters grapple with each other relentlessly, muscles writhing, teeth gritting... and there's word that Alpha Dom has snuck its way into some of these competitor's bloodstreams, so let's all keep an eye out for the signature sign of drip-tap nips and bursting briefs!

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[inchidentally]

so we all know that Oscar was basically the president of the Lando Norris fanclub back in the day, but my question is, does Lando know? Like I think back to that face mask video when Oscar asked Lando how many sibling's he had and we all suspect that Oscar fully knew the answer. So was he trying to play it cool so Lando didn't catch on that he maybe knew a little too much, or was he trying to play it cool so we the viewers didn't catch on to how much Lando content he has consumed (he has failed, we know Oscar, we know. Especially since he referenced a Quadrant video later in the exact same video).

okay so first we've got to pay homage to the god tier @mecachrome fic Q&A bc it takes every wriggly red-in-the-face possibility of this and wraps an even wrigglier landoscar narrative around it <3

and for my own take on if Lando's twigged about the level of Oscar's fanboying I am so incredibly undecided bc Oscar is so good at putting his defenses way up and passing off a moment like that as just casual...

WAIT WAIIIIIT no okay I'm calling it Oscar knew that Lando had already told the story about being locked out of his house in a video before. I can't remember if it was a stream or a Quadrant video but Lando said he was playing on the sim in their shed and his parents forgot he wasn't in the house and locked up. I'm sorry but Oscar does NOT look like this is the first time he's heard this and even filling in the "and fell through" before Lando says it. CAUGHT.

and let's not forget Lando absolutely knowing Oscar would know the year of his maiden podium in the Splunk video. CAUGHT.

I'm gonna say that Lando knows to a certain degree that Oscar's a fanboy and honestly he's got to just find it funny/cute/endearing imo. Lando's not the type to be mean or an asshole - even when he and Max would sometimes almost have an outright spat on stream Lando would back down first and make a self-deprecating joke. and Max is fully able to stand up to Lando and give as good as he gets! so I can't see Lando ever being anything but amused or fond or both to find out 'kitten pulled from a nap' Oscar has been a fan of his for years.

god this reminded me how unhingedly in sync they were in the Most Likely To video considering they didn't even know how many brothers and sisters they each had yet. it's also unbearable for how much they watch each other and like… one of the best videos for Lando clearly just finding Oscar like, just so cute ??? straight up 'that's my nerdy lil guy' alsfgljasfgljasg and I mean Oscar stares at Lando literally constantly so nothing new there.

also this adorable moment where they're both too stupid to understand the horror movie question but also Lando's little delighted gigglejump when Oscar admits he'd scream and hide his eyes:

more of me just remembering how gd cute this video was

strangely already married teammates moments:

literally the very first question !! they both agreed that Oscar was most likely to sleep in but then Lando had to go and push the issue, resulting in retaliation from Oscar and a you're sleeping on the couch response from Lando. "you just opened a can of worms"

this resulted in a tense stand-off about who takes the longest to get ready which Oscar diplomatically decided was equal between them.

most likely to snore being Lando is hysterical bc they both clearly know that Oscar knows. I love how Oscar drops the issue very wisely and Lando's tone gets VERY clipped at the end. I also feel like this could be a catch-out for Oscar too !! bc Max said on one of his streams about Lando's snoring sounding like Valentino Rossi revving his bike in the next room. so it's highly sus that Oscar said "have you had feedback on that before?" CAUGHT?

"if you dare say me" Lando being absolutely livid that Oscar already knows Lando is most likely to cry during a sad movie. Oscar wisely conceding but his face says otherwise. what has Oscar had to deal with and which movie was it that Oscar had to deal with a sobbing Lando over.

Oscar's earlier retaliation comes back to bite him on the ass over most likely to be late !! when he looks at Lando's face he initially concedes. Lando however pushes his luck and Oscar must stand up for himself. the couch is already made up so might as well.

both immediately agreed the answers to:

Lando gets ready quickest

Oscar first into the car

Oscar most likely to get a pet

Lando most likely to embarrass himself in public

Lando most likely to not reply in group chat

neither would survive in the wild (Oscar ribs Lando about being older)

Lando most likely to laugh in a serious moment

both of them agreed to both for:

burnt dinner

cut their own hair

eat their meals quickest (though they agree Lando's chicken burger with sweet potato fries - that Oscar copied - disappears very quickly)

[creelmalfoylaufeyson69]

I’m very excited to see that you’re taking requests for Frank from Abigail. Our little fandom is so small, but he’s too hot to ignore. Dan Steven’s did a knockout job playing him.

Could you write something where the reader is on a job with him? It can be the kidnapping job in the movie, or something different. Maybe he gets along with reader so well (which I assume is rare haha) he asks them to join him on more.

Not picky if it’s fem/male/gender neutral reader :)

Hope you have a great day/night! <3

Dan Stevens definitely did an excellent job in this film! I’d love to see this fandom grow, but not to the point of toxicity. I’m gonna make reader gender neutral, since I’m so used to writing gender neutral stuff now. I hope you enjoy, and also have a wonderful night/day! Also this fic is probably the longest one I’ve written for Frank thus far

Odd

Warnings: gore

They stood behind Sammy, but it wasn’t out of fear. They stood behind her while listening to Lambert to look at one of the other members here. Frank was listening to what Lambert had to say, but was also looking at them. It wasn’t because they were already looking at him, but because something about them wasn’t like the others he had the time to properly examine

He didn’t know the other’s, but they looked familiar and he couldn’t put his finger on why they looked so damn familiar. Lambert noticed the two looking at each other, and told the two to stop looking at each other and pay attention

They looked at Lambert, and felt extremely embarrassed for being called out. Obviously they knew Frank was also looking at them, but the rest of the group knowing that they were silently admiring one of their teammates felt extremely embarrassing to them

Frank didn’t care that he got called out. He needed to know why he couldn’t read them or why they looked so familiar. “Wait. Aren’t you like known for being better at this than all of us?” Dean asked. That’s when Frank was in shock, and remembered hearing about them from others back in his detective days

“Yep! And the one Frank tried to find out about back when he was a detective. Also Lambert, I was listening. You reminded us the rules, but we all know the personal one is going to be broken, why? Because what else is there to talk about for the amount of time you told us we’re spending in here?” They asked with a smile on their face

“I’m surprised that you weren’t a detective” Sammy says out of shock. “It’s not as fun as being the one who you’re searching for. I like a good game, but not the one you’ve put us in Lambert” Frank approaches them now. Once he stood by their side, he looks at them briefly and then back to Lambert

“A game the kid likes to play. Oh Lambert, you’re genius! Except you’re not the genius in the room right now” they said, which makes Frank impressed. “What are you talking about?” Lambert asked. “Oh don’t play dumb Lambert!” They snapped as they pulled out a steak from their bag

“What the fuck” Sammy says in shock. “You’re a fucking vampire!” They yelled as the group now smelled blood. “Where’s that coming from?” Joey asked. “Check the room where you left the kid” they said as Joey went upstairs. Sammy, Dean, Peter, and Rickles followed along

Frank was about to follow along, when they grabbed his wrist. He turns to face them; “stay down here. You���ll probably want to see this” they said as they find themselves getting lost in his eyes. “Okay” he says as they let go of his wrists now. The two looked at Lambert and now he showed his fangs

“Oh fuck” Frank says in shock. “Told ya so” they said with a smile. Joey screamed out of the sight of blood being everywhere, and some puss as well. “Good job at killing the kid” Lambert says to them. “Well what can I say, I’ve got great  strategy” they say with a smile. “Then drop the steak, because I have an offer you two would like”

Joey and the crew come back to seeing Frank and them covered in blood. The steak was covered in blood too, which makes Joey realize how right they were. “We’re definitely not done yet. Lazar will be here at some point, so we do have to stay for that” Frank says, but they told him that’ll be unnecessary

Frank turns towards them with a bit of rage. “You’ll get your time hun. Just not now” they say as they get out glasses cleaner and a wipe for his glasses. “What else do you have in that bag?” Frank asked them. “Stuff that you never think to bring in these kinds of situations” they said, which makes him smile. “Are we gonna ignore what just happened, or?” Dean asked

“Of course not. There was also no money if that wasn’t clear” they said, which makes everyone but Sammy upset. “Thank you by the way” Frank said, which makes them look back at him. “No problem detective. I gotta keep you on your toes still even if you’re not a detective anymore” they said with a smile. He smiles back. After that night, they went on more missions with him

[mirajaneswritingshenanigans]

Night Changes

Fandom: MCU Avengers

Pairing(s): Tony Stark/Iron Man x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Tony doesn’t want to be alone. So, he decides to show up at your quarters. You allow him in. One thing leads to another and suddenly the friendship status changes overnight.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fanfic. They are owned by Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, the writers, producers, and directors of the films. I am simply borrowing them for this Fanfic.

A/N: Y/N-Your Name. ✨✨✨✨-Indications of a time skip.

Warning(s): Out character Moments? Alcohol consumption. Implied smut. Open ending?

Word Count: 738

A soft knock on your door pulled your attention from your TV. You glanced to the alarm clock that sat on the table next to the couch. The red numbers on the clock read twelve minutes after midnight. You paused your movie and made your way to the door. When you opened the door you were slightly surprised to see Tony standing in front of you. He looked tired, but you could tell he wasn’t ready for sleep.

“What’s up?” You asked him. “Don’t want to be alone right now. Can I come in?” Tony said. You smiled and stepped aside to let him in. “Rough night?” You asked him. “Sort of.” Tony said as he plopped on the couch. You walked to your mini fridge to grab him a drink. You handed him the drink before taking a seat next to him. You pressed play and turned your attention back to the TV. Tony made himself comfortable and decided to watch the movie with you.

At some point you had moved closer to him and snuggled up into his side. Tony smiled and put his arm around you, pulling you a lot closer to him. Before the next movie played you pulled yourself away from Tony to grab more drinks. A few drinks turned into several drinks, followed by tons of stories, and lots of laughter.

✨✨✨✨

You groaned as you slowly opened your eyes. Your head was currently pounding. You rolled over on to your back, splaying your arms out. You froze when your left arm hit something solid. You slowly turned your head to glance to your left side. “Oh, boy.” You whispered as you realized what you hit was Tony. He was laying on his stomach, his face towards the wall. You began to sit up slowly, lifting the covers to look under them. Once you fully sat up you let the covers fall down. Through the pain in your head you tried your best to remember the events of last night.

“We drank, we talked...” You glanced over to Tony. “Then we got intimate.” You whispered. When you tried to get out of bed Tony stopped you. “Morning, sweetheart.” He spoke softly. You couldn’t help but smile at his morning face and messed up hair. “Hey.” You said. “You remember last night, right?” He asked gently. “I do. Most of it.” You said. “Do you regret it?” Tony sat up beside you as he asked the question. You looked from Tony to your hands. Silence fell over the two of you for at least five minutes.

“My head may hurt from all the drinks. But, I don’t regret it. Do you regret it?” You asked him. “No. To be honest, I tried my hardest to put all of how I felt into my actions last night.” Tony gently took your chin into his hand, turning your eyes to him. “I’ve had feelings for you, for the longest time. It wasn’t until last night that I realized those feelings were true. Though, I didn’t expect to express my feelings the way I did, but I’m glad it happened.” Tony said before pulling you into a gentle kiss. When you pulled away, you gently got up to take medication for the headache. Tony sat on the bed silently watching you.

“So, after last night, what are we to each other?” You asked as you took a seat on the foot of your bed. The clothes you had picked for the day sitting beside you. “I’d like to say we’re more than teammates, and more than friends. That’s if you’re okay with that?” Tony asked as he finally got out of the bed. Pulling his boxers on. “I’d love that.” You told him. “How do you think the team will handle this development?” You asked nervously. “Well, I believe they will handle it just fine.” Tony took a seat beside you. He gave you a reassuring smile as he held your hand in his. “You should probably get dressed before we walk out of here.” He told you in a teasing tone. “Nah, I’ll just walk out in my birthday suit. Gotta keep ‘em on their toes.” You joked as you stood up to put your clothes on. Tony watched your every move. Heart swelling with pride and love as he did. “Plus, you’re one to talk. All you’ve got on are your boxers.” You teased him.

Main Masterlist

[canirove]

Best friends… forever? | Chapter 7

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Home sweet home” Mila says, letting herself fall on the sofa and taking off her shoes. 

“Home sweet home” Rúben says, sitting next to her and doing the same.

After they both won the League, they went out to celebrate first with their teammates and then with their families, who had flown from Portugal. The past three days had been the longest ever, and even though Mila had enjoyed every second of it, she couldn’t wait to get home and just relax.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks Rúben, resting her head on the back of the sofa.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

“You already said that when we met at the restaurant” Mila chuckles.

“Just in case you had forgotten” he shrugs, also resting his head on the sofa. “Winning suits you.”

“Does that mean that before winning the league I was ugly?”

“You’ve never been ugly. According to Diogo, I was the ugly one.”

“Diogo” she snorts. “He knows nothing. You’ve always been handsome and only got better and better as you’ve got older.” Which wasn’t a lie. He was aging like fine wine.

“Am I hot, then?” Rúben asks, lifting an eyebrow.

“Very hot. But you don’t need me telling you that, you see it every morning when you look at yourself in the mirror. And every afternoon. And at night. And before going to bed. And…”

“Are you calling me vain?” 

“Just a teeny tiny bit” she smirks.

“I’m not the one who gets changed three times before going out.”

“That’s not being vain, that’s being indecisive.”

“Yeah, sure” Rúben says while trying not to smile, making her focus on his lips for some reason. 

“We should kiss” Mila blurts out.

“What?”

“The deal we have with Bruno. We both won, we have to kiss.”

“Oh, that” Rúben says, feeling a bit disappointed. She is just thinking about the deal they made, not about actually kissing him because she wants to. “How do we do it?”

“You’ve kissed people before, you know how it works” she says with a cheeky smile.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it” he says, bumping his shoulder against hers. 

“I’m sorry, I just love teasing you way too much” she replies, now being the one who bumps her shoulder against his, making both of them laugh. 

“We have to film it or Bruno won't believe us, so I guess someone will have to hold the phone.”

“You are more into selfies than I am, you should do it.”

“What? Have you seen your Instagram profile? Your stories? Mila, you are the one constantly posting selfies” Rúben laughs.

“Whatever. But your arm is longer than mine.”

“Ok, fine. I’ll do it” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Grab your phone, then” Mila says. But he doesn’t move. He just keeps looking at her, both of them still resting their heads on the back of the sofa, their shoulders touching. He could stay like this forever, being this close to her, getting lost on her eyes. “Rúben, didn’t you hear me?” Mila says again, still looking at him, noticing how close he is. But he could be closer. She wants him to be closer. 

And as if he was reading her mind, Rúben closes the small space that was left between them, kissing her, making her feel like the world has stopped and it’s just his lips on hers, his hand cupping her face. 

“We should have filmed that” he says when he breaks apart, his lips brushing against hers.

“We should” Mila whispers. But neither of them move to grab a phone. Instead, they just kiss again, this time with more passion. 

He’s kissing her. Rúben is finally kissing Mila, and he can’t get enough of it. He needs more, more of her kisses, more of her. He needs her. 

Mila can’t remember the last time she was kissed like this. She doesn’t know if she’s ever been kissed like this, to be honest. It feels as if they need each other to breathe, as if the world will end if they stop. 

And Rúben’s touch has a similar effect on her. He has moved his hand from her face to her arm, and everywhere where his fingers have been, she feels her skin burning, wanting him to go back there but also to keep moving. She wants more. She needs more. So she moves to sit on his lap, straddling him. 

When Mila sits on him, it catches Rúben a bit by surprise, but it is a good surprise. His hands move to her thighs, lifting her dress up so she is more comfortable, allowing her to move closer to him while they keep kissing. 

He moves his fingers up and down her thighs, lifting her dress more and more, feeling every bit of her skin until he is touching her butt. He grabs it with both hands, pulling her even closer to him, the feeling of her against him making them both gasp, taking the moment to stop kissing and catch their breaths.

“We still aren’t filming” Rúben smiles.

“I’m afraid that isn’t happening today” she replies with another smile before kissing him again. But kissing isn’t enough. He still needs more of her. 

“Rúben” Mila whispers when he starts kissing her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. 

“If you want me to stop, just say it” he says against her skin, his fingers playing with one of the straps of her dress.

“I don’t want you to stop” she replies, surprising herself a bit. She didn’t know she felt this for him. She didn’t know that she wanted him this bad, that she could want to do this with him. She knew that something had changed, that something felt different between them. But she didn’t expect it to be this.

“I don’t want you to stop.” If he wasn’t already busy kissing her shoulder, pulling down the straps of Milan’s dress, Rúben would have smiled. Maybe laughed. This is what he wanted. Her. All of her. 

“Zipper” Mila says as his hand moves from her butt to her back, to her waist, looking for a way to get rid of her dress. The moment he finds it, it quickly goes down, and she herself takes it off, throwing it somewhere while Rúben can’t stop looking at her. 

He has seen Mila in her underwear or wearing a bikini many times before, but he had never seen her topless. And he can’t get enough of it. 

“Liking what you see?” she asks with a mischievous smile.

“Very much” Rúben replies.

“But it is only fair I also get to see something” she says, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

Mila had seen Rúben topless many times. Way too many times, to be honest. He loves walking around the house looking like that. But she had never had him this close. She had never touched him the way she was doing right now as she took off his shirt, her fingers following the shape of the muscles on his stomach, his chest, his arms. 

“Liking what you see?” he asks.

“What I see and what I am touching” she says, finally getting rid of his shirt and throwing it somewhere in the room, probably to the same place where her dress had gone. 

And then they were kissing again, that feeling of needing the other to breathe coming back, his hands moving up her waist until one of his thumbs touches her nipple.

“Fuck” Mila whispers.

“Did you like that?” 

“Very much.”

“And if I do this?” he says while leaning forward, his tongue replacing his thumb. 

“Oh, fuck” she says again, arching against him and making him grunt something. “You also liked that, didn’t you?” Mila chuckles, moving her hips against him once again.

“I did. But I can’t focus on this if you do that.”

“And if you do that, my body can’t help but react” she replies.

“What a horrible dilemma” Rúben chuckles, his thumb moving in circles around her nipple.

“The worst” she says, biting her lip. “But I didn’t tell you to stop. So less using your mouth to talk, and more to do other things.”

“As my lady commands” he says.

But doing this, feeling her shudder under his touch, moving against him, isn’t enough. After having fun with her breasts, Rúben moves her so she is lying on the sofa, starting to leave kisses on her stomach, her hands playing with his hair. 

“May I?” he asks, lifting his eyes to meet hers, his fingers playing with the hem of her underwear.

“Please” Mila whispers, her body tensing under his touch. 

Once she is completely naked, he can’t help it and takes a moment to look at her. She is simply beautiful. And she is about to be his. Only his.

“What are you doing, Rúben?” she asks.

“Admiring you” he says, making her giggle before lifting one of her legs and starting to kiss her ankle, going up to her calf, her knee, taking his time when he makes it to her inner thigh.

“You are going too slow.”

“You don’t like it?” he asks against her skin.

“It’s torture.”

“Do I keep going up, then?”

“Please” Mila whispers. 

“What about your other leg?” he asks, teasing her.

“Rúben… Please” she begs. 

“Ok” he chuckles, doing as she asks and kissing her thigh, making it to where she wanted him to go.

“Rúben” Mila moans when she finally feels his tongue on her, making him think that his name has never sounded so good, a thought that would come back to his mind a few more times that night.

[vulture115]

Sniper Jaune: Hunt or be hunted (Note: Summer will appear in this au sometimes later)

Glynda: Alright childrens, today’s assignment is called hunt or be hunted. The rules are simple there are 2 4-man teams, each are selected randomly. The 2 teams will compete with each other, the teams are needed to take a red flag that is somewhere inside this forest while trying to survive from the hunter as long as they could. But try to be aware of your surroundings, as one pf you will be the hunter there will be one hunter that i choose from one of you will be watching every movement of these 2 teams hidden somewhere in this forest. If one of your teammates or you are able to incapacitate the hunter, your team will win instantly. I’ll be seeing you kids in the bullhead landing pad in 10 minutes

[Bullhead landing pad, 5 minutes later]

Ruby: Pyrrha!!! We’re a team!!!

Pyrrha: Yes Ruby, it is quite fortunate that we are both on one team. I guess all of us got lucky

Yang: Hell yeah we are! Even Blakey over here is relieved by the fact that we are a team!

Blake: I didn’t say that Yang, all i say was we got lucky that Team CRDL is still they’re own team. Well, mainly because they are the most hated team in beacon

Ruby: But i still wonder who is the hunter in this assignment

Glynda: For the Hunter role today, the role goes to Jaune Arc.

Cardin (In the distance): HAHAHAHAHA This’ll be easy as hell, Jauney boy couldn’t even do shit!

Ruby: [Flashback to the firing range] *Squeak* Please tell me this isn’t real!

Yang: What isn’t real?

Ruby: About Jaune becoming the hunter! He’s too good!

Pyrrha : What do you mean he is too good?

Ruby: Remember yesterday when i go to the firing range? Jaune is there and he betting me 50 Lien if one of us could land 10 shot on the vital parts as fast as we can!

Blake: You’re worrying too much Ruby, this is Jaune we’re talking about, so i think you’re the one who wins the bet

Ruby: HE WON THE BET BLAKE! I’VE NEVER SEEN A SNIPER BEING THAT GOOD! HIS AIM IS EVEN OFF THE LAST SHOT BY 10 MILLIMETER!

PYB:.………

[4 minutes later]

Jaune: Sorry i’m late. I’m ready now Ms. Goodwitch!

Yang: Well V-Boy, you’re over prepared yourself

Jaune: Seeing that none of the students wanted to be the Hunter, i need a lot of things since i will be at the forest. Good luck everyone!

[5 hours later]

Glynda: Well class, it seems that none of you found the flag survived the hunter long enough. But i have to give credit to Team PBRY (Plum-berry) for surviving the longest from Mr. Arc.

Entire student body: *Having a war flashback due to all of them getting ‘killed’ so fast, they don’t even know where the shot was from*

Yang: Ruby?

Ruby: Yeah, Yang?

Yang: I’m soooo sorry for not trusting you, i never seen anyone incapacitated someone that fast. Even faster than mom

Ruby: Don’t worry Yang

[myimaginarywonderland]

The actual lore and potential ships that some of you are missing out by not being a Lance fan is insane.

Checo and Lance were such great teammates and once again Lance got himself another grid dad that clearly adored him. The videos of them are genuinely funny and I will forever remember that Pianata moment.

Max and Lance used to compete against each other and seemed really close in 2014 when they both drove in the Florida Winter Series. They also seem close even after they came together. I could imagine they did a bit of racing against each other and they are also some of the guys who have been on the grid together the longest.

Lewis and Lance have this sweet dynamic since the beginning of Lance F1 career. Lance has always stood alongside Lewis in his own quiet way.

Lance and George used to have this fierce beef because George believed Lance was gifted his F3 title. They also raced against each other at some point. The whole beef lore with them is so fascinating and genuinely intruiging especially now that you don't see them beefing anymore.

Lance used to watch Nando race and cheer him on in the garage. Not to mention his father was insanely close to Nando as well? I think Lance has said before that Nando was one of his heroes or people that he looked up to most. Their story goes back to like Lance first season. Not to mention how close they are now with Esteban being like Nando's nemesis.

I am not certain about this but I feel like I have also seen pics of Lawrence and Carlos dad? And it seems like after this weekend they are also close together.

Lando and Lance had beef but now it seems like they are getting along? The beef came mostly from one race and Lando discrediting Lance. I also know Lando used to joke about Lance in some streams so I feel like they should be on good terms?

Esteban and Lance have been besties since their F3 days and they are literally inseparable. When Este lost his seat and Lance got it, Esteban made sure to post a statement where he said he didn't blame Lance and that they are great friends. They literally consider themselves each others best friend on the current grid.

I do not know how exactly how well they know each other but Charles has multiple times said that Lance is one of the nicest drivers on the grid.

Pierre and Lance had beef because of racing at some point leading us to the famous "Parking lot fight" memes.

I know Alex and Lance used to also race each other at some point but I have no idea how close they are.

Oscar and Logan are fairly new so I can't judge their relationship to Lance yet.

Lance and Daniel have such a strange relationship. Daniel shared Lance first podium with him and they are technically somehow connected through Scotty. (Who actually got set up by Lance. Chloe said that Lance basically told her "You will marry this dude" and apparently did the magic of setting them up.) Yet we rarely see them interact and it almost seems like they don't like each other? Yet they seemed fairly close at the wedding? This entire dynamic is so intruiging.

I have no idea if Lance is close to Yuki or Zhou but I think there's not really any lore here.

I know that Lance is seen by the Haas drivers as nice because on the grill the grids they have both I think guessed him as giving them their gifts. Another thing to add because the entire grid guesses Lance if those gifts are nice or personal and some are suprised when they are. Seems like Lance is seen as a thoughtful gift giver.

Oh the Lance and Valtteri lore is some of my favourite. They were going to be teammates and we were robbed of that all because of "It's Britney bitch" making an exit and pushing the Mercedes team to get Val earlier than planned. I know they are close and they genuinely seem to get along with many conversations between them in the drivers parade. They also had their little joke about catching someone on the last line because Val took second place from Lance when he got his first podium only for Lance to take a place of Val this season the same way.

Lance is also widely considered as an alcoholic by the paddock apparently because they keep gifting him stuff like Tequilla.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Hello! I have a selfish request hehe You see I have been thinking about this For a while now and uhhh I wanted to see if you could make a fic out of it So if you see it Thank you very much!

Baby, You’re My Lightning In A Bottle

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Keith Angst, Hurt/Comfort, 2k Words

Summary:

Sometimes, everything goes right and Keith is still anxious about it. Lance helps.

———

“Okay,” Keith sighs out. “Check-in time. Everyone sound off, make sure to mention any injuries.”

“I’m a little sore from that big hit on Yellow, but the new shock system I added is pretty awesome — I’m not hurt!”

Keith smiles at the Yellow Paladin. “Good to hear, Hunk.”

“I’m injury-free! And pretty pumped!” Pidge calls next.

Keith nods at her, then turns his eyes to Allura when she speaks up next.

“I think I am actually feeling better after this mission!” she exclaims. “There’s something about crushing oppressors and avenging my people that does wonders for my complexion.”

Keith snorts, shaking his head. Allura has had an easier time joking around with the paladins since accepting her role as the Blue Paladin. Lance liked to joke that the defining role of the Blue Paladin was to be the funniest person on the team.

Speaking of Lance, Keith flicks his gaze to the little screen at the corner of his windshield, where his right hand is beaming at him.

“You good, Lance?”

He means to ask it normally. In the same voice he asked the rest of his teammates. But the softness he has reserved for Lance is positively leaking out of his voice, coating his words in a layer of love that’s simply impossible to miss. Lance certainly doesn’t, and his smile turns a little shy.

“Yeah, Keith. I’m good.”

The two hold each other’s gazes, just basking in their affections, until Keith is startled by three loud gagging noises from the rest of his team. He flushes slightly, suddenly remembering that he and Lance are very much not alone.

“If you two could stop sighing dreamily at each other so we can go the fuck home, that’d be great,” Pidge drawls.

Lance rolls his eyes, but Keith is pleased to notice his ears have gone a little pink. Call it what you will, but Keith loves to see that he can draw a reaction out of Lance. Makes his chest feel all fluttery.

This… thing, they have. It’s nothing concrete, nothing they’ve discussed or labelled, but they’ve finally done something about the tension between them. They rarely spend a night alone, now, sleeping over in Lance’s room (he claims his bed is more comfortable. It’s literally identical to Keith’s, although Keith must admit that ever since he started sharing with Lance, he’s had the best and longest sleeps of his life. That may have more to do with a certain sharpshooter than an allegedly fluffier mattress, however).

“Yeah, yeah, shuddup,” Lance says. “We good to head back to the castle, Fearless Leader?”

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

—

Everyone else has likely gone to freshen up, or wind down after the mission. Keith should be doing that, too.

Instead, he’s pacing anxiously in Black’s hangar.

He can hear her concern in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t have much to tell her. No one was hurt in this mission. They got the information they needed, destroyed a few fleets. In every conceivable way, this mission was a huge success.

And yet Keith can’t shake this horrible anxiety.

He feels like he’s fucking up. Like there’s only a matter of time before he leads this team right into a trap, and he loses someone else. Like, what if the Galra snuck onto the ship? What if Keith wasn’t paying enough attention, and there is a battalion of Empire soldiers hiding in the Castleship right now, waiting until everyone is asleep and vulnerable to attack? What if Keith wakes up tomorrow to find half the team dead or missing under his watch?

He should run a few laps around the Castle, make sure no one’s hidden. Yeah. He’ll open the doors, maybe run a scan —

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep that up.”

Keith whips his head up, locking eyes with a smiling Lance. He stills immediately, a good portion of his anxiety evaporating. His shoulders relax, and his lips quirk up.

“I think the hangar will survive my pacing,” he teases back. Lance huffs a laugh, bumping his shoulder with Keith’s as soon as he gets close enough.

“What’s wrong, Samurai?” he asks quietly, tangling their hands together.

Keith strokes his thumb across Lance’s knuckles, allowing himself to feel grounded at the touch.

“Feeling really anxious,” he says eventually. “Feel like we got followed. Like everyone’s gonna get hurt tonight. Like I can’t protect everyone.”

Lance makes a humming noise, briefly squeezing Keith’s hand. “Yeah, I can imagine. Today’s mission was pretty good, all things considered, but Hunk and Yellow still took that hit for you. I imagine it’s got you out of sorts.”

Keith’s nods, closing his eyes and he exhales the rest of the tension he wasn’t fully aware he was holding in. There’s truly no other feeling like having someone who just… gets you, in every sense of the word. Lance always seems to know exactly what’s wrong, and he’s glad now that that energy is no longer focused on riling each other up.

Well. At least not for anger reasons.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “My heart is pounding, and I feel restless. I know the rest of you are winding down, but I don’t think I can. Not for a while, at least.”

Lance nods, screwing his face up contemplatively, and Keith knows the moment he finds the solution because his whole being lights up. The force of his beam is a little bit blinding, and Keith can literally feel his brain frantically pumping out as much dopamine as it can. He physically feels his heart rate slow from its jackrabbit pace, the tangle of anxiety in his chest loosens.

Holy shit. The effect this boy has on him.

“I have an idea,” Lance says, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Keith huffs a laugh, waving a hand in Lance’s general area. “I can see that.”

Lance grins, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling him along to Red’s hangar.

“I know we just got in, but I have an idea for a quick fieldtrip that I think will make you feel better. You up for it?”

Keith doesn’t even put up a fight, fully allowing himself to be pulled along. He takes in Lance’s smile, his boyish excitement, the love Keith can feel radiating off of him. Lance cares so much. He wears his emotions out in the open with pride and cares with his whole heart. He is kind and wonderful and precious and loving, and Keith loves him so, so much.

And when this kind and wonderful and precious and loving boy turns behind him, smiling at Keith and tugging him along and asking Keith to follow him — well.

Why would he ever say no?

—

After twenty-odd minutes of Lance flying them in Red, holding Keith’s hand the whole time, they stop in front of a planet. It’s white, covered swirls and whorls and the entire surface of the planet looks like it’s shifting and moving around.

“Are those… clouds?” Keith asks, squinting.

“Yeah!” Lance responds, endlessly enthusiastic. “I was telling Coran about rain, and how much I missed it, and he told me they never had any on Altea — believe it or not, the only precipitation they had was flaming rocks, isn’t that wild? — but he said he knew of a planet that was in a perpetual state of rain! It’s called Pluie. It doesn’t have any intelligent life, most animals can’t really thrive in its environment. It does have land, though! Anyway, to the point — I read somewhere forever ago that rain reduces anxiety and induces feelings of serenity and even happiness, so I figured I’d bring you out here! Plus,” he wiggles his eyebrows, playfully suggestive, “I’ve always wanted to have a big ol’ romantic smooch in the rain. Whaddaya think?”

Keith can only gape, affection lighting him up, setting his blood on fire. He knows Lance is a thoughtful person. He can see it in the way that he rarely, if ever, makes a decision entirely for himself — he’s always considering other people. The bomb in their first few days in space, the way Lance notices and de-escalates any tense situation even at his own detriment, even his position as a sniper. Everything he does is built around his desire to care for others.

And Keith… he’s never really had someone who puts him first. He had his Pa, for a while, but he lost him so young — he’s spent most of his life being forced to care for himself. He’s been the afterthought in so many hundreds of situations that he’s forgotten what it feels like to be someone’s first choice. And Lance thinks of him first so often. Any time they’re on a planet for diplomatic purposes, Lance will come to him after with something he picked up that just reminded him of Keith. A book, a knife, a flower, even a cool rock — Lance looks at something, and thinks of Keith. Keith is at the forefront of someone’s mind! It’s an incredibly heady feeling.

For Lance to come from a mission, immediately make his way to see Keith before even taking off his armour, and then bring him to a rain planet to help assuage his anxieties — no force in the universe could have kept Keith from tearing up.

Lance looks panicked, immediately standing from the pilot’s seat to cradle Keith’s face in his hands.

“Shit, Keith, was this a bad choice? You wanna head back?”

Keith sobs, frantically shaking his head. He wants to say something, reassure Lance that he’s not mad or upset or anything, but he’s so overwhelmed with emotion that he can’t quite force the words out.

Luckily for Keith, Lance knows him. His face softens, and his arms encircle Keith in a tight hug.

“Let it out, amor,” he soothes, rubbing his hands up and down Keith’s back. “I love you. You’re okay. Let it out.”

Keith cries in Lance’s arms until he’s got no tears left. He cries for the times he was the afterthought, the nuisance, the problem child. He cries for every time he wasn’t allowed to cry, told he was too old for tears or faced with people who had no empathy for him. He cries for every person he’s lost, and that he wasn’t allowed to mourn.

Finally, he cries because he’s simply overwhelmed with all the love Lance has for him. It’s more than he’s ever felt in his life.

“I’m good now,” he sniffles after a few minutes. “Sorry for getting snot all over you.”

Lance laughs, kissing Keith’s temple and pulling away slightly, so he can look at Keith’s face.

“Even if I wasn’t wearing state-of-the-art Altean super armour, I wouldn’t be mad,” he assured. Keith smiles, wiping his face. He inclines his head towards Red’s exit hatch.

“You wanna go have that romantic kiss in the rain?”

Lance grins, tangling his hands with Keith’s and running out the door, dragging Keith with him. “Let’s go!”

The two of them run out of the lion, right into the pouring rain of the planet. The ground is wet and muddy beneath their boots, and the air smells like petrichor.

Lance throws back his head and laughs, waving his arms in the air. Keith’s hand is still clasped tightly in his, so his arms go up too.

Keith couldn’t stop himself from smiling if he tried. Lance, as always, is magnetic.

“This is great!” he yells over the deafening sound of rushing water and the roar of distant thunder. “I forgot how much I loved the rain!”

He turns to Keith, still grinning brightly, and pulls him closer. Keith goes stumbling into his hold, and Lance throws his free arm around Keith’s shoulder, pulling him closer still and pressing a kiss to his mouth. Well, he tries, but the two of them are giggling so much that he misses and hits Keith’s nose instead.

Lance laughs harder, and presses kisses all over Keith’s face. Keith’s shoulders shake with the force of his joy, and he can feel his face heating up despite the coolness of the air and water.

Their laughter slows, and Lance presses a final kiss to his upper lip, before pulling away and beaming at him. He doesn’t go far, heads still bent together and arms still encircled around each other.

“You feeling better?” he asks.

Keith looks at the love of his life, holding him tightly in the pouring rain, and smiles softly.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been.”

[natrogersfics]

The Longest Night - A Romanogers Oneshot

Artwork by @faith2nyc​ Read on AO3​​

It’s a story as old as time.

You get coerced by your teammate into attending the team owner’s wedding as his plus one. Not because he’s feeling lonely or anything, but more so it doesn’t look too suspicious when he tries to steal a moment with the team’s enigmatic physical therapist that he also happens to be seeing on the down low. You voice your reluctance, make a comment about what a shit plan this all seems to be. But then your teammate gently reminds you of that time you got dispossessed at midfield just when your team was looking for the go-ahead goal, and, in an effort to keep the game level, said teammate had to make a strategic tackle and take a red card for his troubles. Suffice to say, you make a promise to yourself to never give him the opportunity to cash in any more chips.

If Steve had to recount the events of the wedding, he couldn’t really. He can’t even say for certain if Bucky had gotten to sneak a dance with Wanda without raising any suspicion from anyone – they’re married now, though, so maybe that doesn’t really matter. In any case, what he does remember about that night is how unexpectedly epic it turned out to be, all thanks to the quick as a whip and hot-as-sin redhead that Wanda brought as her plus one.

His impression of Natasha from the moment she stepped into the car with Wanda had been spot on. She was witty, deviously flirtatious, and her remarks had him tipping his head back in laughter all night long. The fact that she was a sight to behold in a shining silver dress that fit her like a glove was just the cherry on top of what was already proving to be a hell of a night.

Somewhere between them drinking and dancing and creating background stories for all the other guests, the two of them had ended up on the balcony. With drinks in hand and Manhattan’s skyline glittering before them, the conversation flowed freely. He learned of the business she’s trying to start with her sister and how much she loved the view. He tells her of how fortunate he’s felt since he was traded to the team the season prior and how good it was to finally be living back in Brooklyn again.

Maybe it was the city lights or the alcohol rushing through their veins, but at some point, the connection between them that had been sparking all night erupted into an all-out flame as he finally worked up the courage to ask if he could kiss her. With Natasha’s quip about how he better, what started out as a chaste kiss grew teeth, encouraged exploring hands. And before he knew it, they had found themselves locked in the nearest powder room, his pants pooled around his ankles and her on her knees as she gave him the best head of his life.

As luck would have it, just as he was about to return the favor, their moment was interrupted by Natasha’s alarm going off and a curse falling from her lips. Her sister was arriving at the airport soon, and she needed to go. His incredulous stare was appeased with a lingering kiss and a promise to him that he could show her his appreciation another time. Numbers were exchanged with a deal to see each other the following Saturday, this time for more than just a quickie in the bathroom. There’s going to be dinner, maybe even a movie, he swore. With a smile, she told him she couldn’t wait.

Their date for that Saturday falls through. So does the raincheck they plan for the week after that. Despite days of back-and-forth texting – messages filled with promises of what’s to come when they finally, finally saw each other again – their date proves ever elusive. Work monopolizes her calendar. The season starts for him. And the final blow comes when her company finally receives the funding needed to truly take off. She’s moving to California. He promises to see her when he’s in town.

Life happens. He never sees her again and resigns himself to the fact that sometimes, no matter how enchanted you are by someone, one memorable night is all you get with them.

Until eight years later, that is, when he walks into the local watering hole in Bushwick – the only place he can grab a drink in peace these days – to see her perched on one of the stools at the bar, the skirt of her wedding dress cascading around her like an endless pool of silk.

Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly a story as old as time.

No one looks good under fluorescent lighting. Steve had heard of the saying, and though he hadn’t really cared to verify the theory before, he can now for certain say that whoever came to that conclusion has clearly never seen Natasha Romanoff. If he had thought she was stunning the night they met, that’s nothing compared to how she looks now with her cheeks flushed a healthy pink and her scarlet tresses meticulously curled over one shoulder.

The woman’s angelic glow notwithstanding, he can’t help but feel like he’s jumping the gun by saying that the last eight years have been nothing but kind to her. While he’s sure that he’s not the first person to run into an old flame at a bar, he’s almost certain that he’d be hard pressed to find another person who can say they ran into their old flame at the bar while said old flame was in a wedding dress.

There’s also the fact that it doesn’t take a genius to surmise that something has gone, at best, awry for her tonight. Sure, her groom could still be looking for parking – which, in this part of Brooklyn, means he could be out there forever. Maybe the guy has just made a pit stop to the bathroom. There might also be the chance that she’s one of the handful of women who is actually completely fine wearing her wedding dress to a dive bar. But as he surveys the rest of the room, taking in the mostly empty space save for a bunch of guys huddled around the battered dart board, it’s evident that she’s not here for her reception.

On the off chance that he is wrong, though, he decides to play it safe. In a few strides, he makes his way over to her, leaning an elbow on the bar. “Of all the dingy bars in Brooklyn…” he begins, his tone light. “My blast from the past had to walk into mine.” Natasha turns to him slowly, and the first thing that he catches is the mix of ire and devastation in her emerald eyes that quickly turns into shock and, dare he say, even a little embarrassment when she recognizes him. He lets a small smile cross his lips. “Thank God it’s Friday, huh?”

“More like Thank-God-You-Didn’t-Marry-A-Cheater-Day,” Natasha says dryly before taking another one of the shot glasses she has lined up and knocking it back in a single gulp.

He lets out a sigh. “From what I hear, Congress is still working to make that a federal holiday,” he says, trying to level with her current disposition. “Complete with a parade and everything.”

“That so?” she says as a humorless laugh falls from her lips and her fingers curl around another shot glass. “Are they closing down Fifth Avenue to let all the idiot brides who fell too hard, too fast march in solidarity?”

Hurt unmistakably bleeds into her tone towards the end, pulling at his heartstrings. “I hate that this happened to you,” he says, plopping down on the stool next to her. “That said, even though the timing couldn’t be any worse, I’m glad that you found out who he really is before it was too late.”

“You and me both,” she says quietly into her drink. A beat passes before she arches a brow at him. “Are you just going to sit there or are you actually going to start drinking?”

The invitation brings a smile to his lips. “Consider me your new drinking buddy,” he says, gesturing towards the bartender and then at her line of shot glasses. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Then you’re going to want to double it,” Natasha says. “He’s got some catching up to do.”

The bartender looks back at him for confirmation, and when he gives him a nod, lays out four shot glasses in front of him, filling them to the brim before topping off Natasha’s. “Anything else I can get you?”

“We’re good for now,” he says, “and you can put her tab on top of mine.”

Just as the bartender leaves with a nod, Natasha shakes her head. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, I know you can,” he says, shrugging. “Least I can do after the day you’ve had.”

“Normally I’d put up a fight,” she says before gesturing towards her wedding dress. “But unfortunately, nothing left in me tonight. So, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, downing a shot and pausing briefly as the alcohol burns a hot stripe down his throat. “And just to get this out of the way, as the unofficial spokesman of men at the moment, I would like to apologize on our behalf for that jackass cheating on you. He doesn't deserve you in this lifetime, or any other.”

She tips her shot glass towards him before raising it to her lips. “Wish I could say that was the worst part, Steve.”

“She remembers my name,” he notes, internally admonishing himself when the words come out a little too flirtatious than he’d intended.

She doesn’t seem to mind, though, a glint shining in her eyes. “Did you really think I’d forget your name?”

“No,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I’m just happy that you remembered, Natasha.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed that you remembered mine?” she asks, arching a brow playfully at him.

“No,” he says, “but in the off chance that you were, I think you might find the other things I remember about you a little more impressive.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I also remember that you grew up in Ohio, you love health and wellness, and are an audacious flirt.” She scoffs at the last part, making him smile. “Oh, and that I missed out on taking you on a second date.”

He’s not sure if this moment is the appropriate time to bring up their date that never was, but after the day she’s had, he can’t in good faith pass on the opportunity to let her know that she was – and quite frankly, still is – wanted with a ferocity. The resulting smirk that crosses her lips tells him it’s a good call.

“Second date?” she says. “You count a blowjob in a hotel bathroom as a date?” He nearly spits out his drink at that, prompting her to smile. “Sheesh, you’re easy.”

“I’m low hanging fruit, what can I say,” he quips once he recovers, eliciting a chuckle from her. He shakes his head. ��But you were going to tell me about the worst part. And just so we’re clear, if you need to take your anger out on something” – he points to his chest – “it’ll bruise and my eyes will water, but I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Natasha says dismissively before another laugh escapes from her lips, and the sound makes him absolutely beam. They both take another shot, and Natasha’s expression turns pensive for a moment before she exhales loudly. “Five minutes before I was going to walk down the aisle, my fiancé told me he was leaving me… for my mom.”

His eyes widen to saucers. He waits for the eventual gotcha, because how on Earth could that sentence be punctuated by anything but. Only, it never comes. “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was,” she whispers, the sadness that finds its way back into her voice so palpable now that he feels his heart constrict in his chest as she hangs her head.

“Natasha, that is awful,” he says, his hand immediately reaching for the one she has resting on the bar, giving it a squeeze. “I know sometimes people throw the word around to describe their day because someone cut them off in line at the store or because their order didn’t come out the way they asked, but what happened to you today? That’s truly awful.” He huffs out. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

“Thank you,” she says after a while, her gaze going from their hands to him. “My sister and my dad… they both rallied around me, asked what they could do to help me get through this day. I love them like anything, but I just…” She shakes her head. “I asked them to leave. But then as I sat alone, I realized that I didn’t want to be in the apartment I was supposed to share with Johnny. So, I got the hell out of there and onto the first subway that arrived and somehow ended up” – she gestures aimlessly towards their surroundings – “here.” She shrugs. “It looked like the type of place that’s exactly the opposite of where you’d expect to be on your wedding day, and that felt really apt.” She chuckles humorlessly as her hand falls to the skirt of her dress, her fingers picking at the fabric. “Maybe that’s why I still have this thing on. I know I look completely ridiculous sitting here in this, but at least I’m the one choosing to keep it on, you know?”

“You’re reclaiming your day,” he offers.

For a brief second, she’s quiet as she considers his words, a faraway look on her face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Do you want me to go?” he finds himself suddenly asking, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d hate to leave you, but I understand if you need to be alone.”

She turns to him. “No,” she says. “I don’t want to be alone.” She slowly retracts her hand from his, her elbows falling to the bar as she puts her face in her hands. “I just can’t believe any of this is actually happening.”

Like a reflex, he brings a hand to her back, rubbing soothing circles. “Natasha, they don’t deserve you. Not him, not your mom. You are leaps and bounds better than they could ever be.” He sighs. “I mean, are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?”

“What are you talking about?” she says, eyebrows knitted together as she looks back up at him.

“Look at you,” he says, gesturing towards her. “You’ve had the shittiest of days, and yet here you are, still taking it in stride. Johnny or whatever the fuck his name is should be legally obligated to have the word moron tattooed on his forehead in capital letters for letting you slip away.” He nods towards her feet. “Also, these combat boots? Come on, now.”

She kicks one foot out to give him a better view of her boots. “Just so you know, these actually weren’t in my initial wedding attire. They were just the first pair of shoes I could find.”

“Well, maybe none of this has to be your wedding attire,” he says. “We’ll call this your… Thank-God-It’s-Friday costume.”

She reaches down to pat the material of her dress. “A dive bar outfit, if you will.”

“I don’t see how we can call it anything else given that you even went through the trouble of doing your hair just for the occasion,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did my hair this way,” she deadpans.

Something about the way a playful smile creeps onto her lips shortly after fills him with joy though, and just like that, he decides to make it his personal mission tonight to ensure that this woman forgets all the awful things that have ensued today.

“That’s settled then,” he says, slapping the bar with his hand for emphasis. “Tonight, we’re having a Just-Escaped-The-Asshat party. You in?”

“Oh, what the hell,” Natasha says, raising her glass. “To celebrating my freedom from my traitorous groom and his conniving new girlfriend, may they enjoy my honeymoon.”

He cringes. “He took her on your honeymoon?”

“That I planned and pre-paid for,” she confirms. “I got the notification on my phone that he checked in for the flight shortly after I got here.” She scoffs. “I doubt he went alone.”

“You know what,” he says emphatically, shaking his head. “No, just no. Absolutely not! There is no way that flaming bag of ass gets to have a better night than you. I will not allow it.” He points to her and then to himself. “Tonight, we’re going to have a blast.”

“Is that code for we’re ordering more alcohol?” she asks, pointing towards the bartender.

“Yes, but obviously not here,” he says with a roll of his eyes. He cranes his neck to steal another glimpse at the group in matching t-shirts by the dart board. “As much as I’m dying to be a part of The Wrecking Crew” – they both chuckle at that – “I think we can do much better than this place.”

Intrigue colors her features. “You want to leave this place?” she says, arching a brow when he nods in confirmation. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Might as well be the start of the day for a New Yorker,” he points out before tilting his head to the side. “You are a New Yorker again, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she says. “Moved back a year ago.”

He juts his lip out in a pout. “And I’m only now finding out about this why?”

She flashes him her left hand and the sparkling diamond still sitting on her ring finger. “Met him shortly after I moved back. Also, in case you’re wondering, yes, I did consider throwing this in the Hudson. But selling this so I can recoup the cost of the honeymoon seemed like a better idea.” She shrugs. “And, lastly, I still talk to Wanda, you know. I know you have a kid now.”

“I do have a baby girl,” he confirms with a smile. “Gracie is my everything. Her mom and I get along great and have made the best of co-parenting all these years.” He quirks a brow up. “That being said, just because I have a daughter doesn’t mean I’m not single. On the contrary, I’ve been painfully so for a while now.”

“You’re single?” she asks, tipping her glass to him as a smirk paints her lips. “What do you know? So am I.”

“To being single in New York City then,” he declares, clinking his glass with hers before they both down the rest of their drinks, breathe out hard, and then laugh. “Actually, now that I think about it, I think you better brace yourself. This isn’t going to be like any other night in New York City.”

“And what makes you think that?” she says, tipping her chin up.

He smiles. “Because not only are we in New York City, but we’re also in my borough,” he says. “And baby, I’m going to show you Brooklyn like you’ve never fuckin’ seen before.” He catches the way Natasha catches her bottom lip between her teeth at his promise, as if to hide her own smile. “What?”

Delight flickers in her eyes. “I was wondering when that accent of yours was going to make an appearance again.”

He lifts a brow. “Do you like the accent, Natasha?”

“I guess that depends on the reason it’s slipping back in, Steve.”

“Ah,” he says. “Let’s just say it’s a lot harder to reel in when I’m flirting with a knockout.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she clarifies, looking up at him from underneath her eyelashes. “Flirting with me?” He simply shrugs, causing her to smile. “Good. Don’t stop.”

There was going to be a trip to Coney Island. Maybe even some shuffleboard at The Palms or a walk down Prospect Park. And, if they made it to sunrise, some face-stuffing with every kind of cuisine she could ever want at the Time Out Market. He had plans, he swears he did. Good plans that were collectively going to show her the magic of Brooklyn and help her forget about the terrible, awful day that is today. Never in his wildest dreams, however, did he think all of that was going to get derailed by his decision to cut across Vernon on their way to the Myrtle Avenue subway station.

Then again, it’s twenty past midnight on a random Friday in May, and he’s just walked out of the bar with someone he had a fling with nearly a decade ago. If that isn’t an argument for him to get wilder dreams, then maybe the fact that they’re now standing in line at the House of Harkness – a Bushwick institution that boasts of aerialists, light shows, thrumming baselines pounding from the speakers, and a tagline that encourages patrons to Give Into The Debauchery – will do the trick.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, turning to Natasha as they move closer to the front of the line.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be fun,” she says, her eyes narrowing when his expression doesn’t seem to match the enthusiasm on hers. She puts her hands on her hips. “You were the one who said this wasn’t going to be unlike any other night in the city. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now.”

He rolls his lips at that. The thing is, his sudden skepticism isn’t because he’s intimidated by what lies beyond those doors – he is, after all, a Brooklynite through and through. He’s heard of the stories, knows exactly why people flock all the way to this slice of New York for the experience. In theory, if there was ever a place to have a wild night and leave your inhibitions at the door, it’s here.  

Only, that’s precisely the problem.

Timing is everything. Of the things in life he knows to be immutable, this saying is one of them. In his field of work, knowing exactly when to strike the ball is the minute difference between making a goal and having it saved by the keeper. And if his name on the list of all-time leading goal scorers in Champions League history is anything to go by, it’s evident that he’s familiar with the concept. So as far as timing goes, he knows that it couldn’t get any shittier than running into Natasha on the night she was supposed to become someone’s wife. Fate – if he even believed in that sort of thing – couldn’t be any clearer in its message that regardless of the excitement in his veins, he and Natasha couldn’t be more wrong for each other.

Even so, he realizes that despite the outrageous circumstances that have led to this moment, he’s not the least bit capable of ending this night a second sooner than he has to. Her horrible day aside, Natasha’s still some of the best company he’s had in a while. With that, he finds himself shaking his head. “Me?” he says with a scoff. “I was just making sure you weren’t.”

“Oh, please,” she says with a roll of her eyes just as they finally make it to the front of the line. She turns to the woman manning the ticket booth with a smile. “Two tickets, please.”

“Sure, hon, two tickets coming- you’re not planning to come into the House of Harkness looking like that, are you, sweetness?” The woman asks, her raven curls flowing down her shoulders.

He tenses at the question, forgetting for the briefest of moments that Natasha’s still in her wedding dress. His lips part to speak, to rebuke the woman – Agatha, as her name tag reads – for her lack of tact. It’s then he notices that she’s not actually looking at Natasha, but at him, awaiting his answer. “Umm…” he says, his gaze going from Natasha to Agatha. “Is it black tie only?”

“Only if your name is James Bond,” Agatha says, nudging the small acrylic stand resting on the counter before her, the words on the flyer clearly reading: COSTUMES REQUIRED.

He looks down at the jeans and button-up he’s sporting and then back at Agatha, who he realizes is donning a deep purple cloak. “Any chance you can make an exception?”

“Afraid not, handsome,” Agatha says, a smirk overtaking her features before he can even begin to protest. “Luckily for you, the House of Harkness is always prepared.” She walks around the counter and towards the stanchion, unhooking one end of the red velvet rope before nodding towards the door. “Follow me.”

Next to him, Natasha practically squeals in excitement. “I like this night already.”

A few minutes later, he hears Natasha’s gasp as Agatha leads them into the in-house costume store, the room housing an amalgam of every color and texture of fabric imaginable. “You have everything.”  

“You never know who people want to be in this house,” Agatha says. “My job is to make sure they can be whatever their heart desires.”  

Natasha chuckles. “I love the way you think, Agatha.”

“And I love that dress of yours,” Agatha says. If the woman recognizes it as a wedding dress, she says nothing of it – a gesture he surmises Natasha appreciates. “How about we spice it up for the night though, huh?” She walks further into the room, stopping in front of a bin filled with various props before pulling something out. “What about these?” Natasha’s face lights up in amusement as she makes her way over to Agatha, taking the headband with the devil’s ears and placing it atop her head. Agatha smiles in approval. “Take this, too. It’s Friday night in the House of Harkness, so you never know when someone might need some light flogging.”

Natasha runs her fingers through the leather stands hanging off the other end of the plastic pitchfork. “This is light?”

“Oh, hon, you have no idea,” Agatha says with a cackle. “But that’s a discussion for next time.”

“What do you think?” Natasha asks, walking back towards him before shooting him a cheeky smirk. “Angel gone bad?”

“More like an angel gone kinky,” he says before he can think the better off it, a grumble to his voice.

To his delight, a twinkle sparks in Natasha’s eyes as she leans in closer to him. “Does that put you off at all?”

The way her voice dips, a husk to her tone, causes excitement to crackle within him. He whispers back, “not in the slightest.”

He hears her draw a breath at that, but before he can say anything of it, Agatha makes her way back to them. “Now, back to our original predicament,” she says. “You can’t let our naughty angel over here have all the fun tonight.”

“Yeah, Rogers,” Natasha says, seemingly recovered. “Don’t be a bore.”

With a shake of his head, he turns back to Agatha. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Let’s see…” Agatha summons them to follow her with a come-hither motion of her fingers, leading them to the first rack to the left of the room. “These are some of our most popular ones,” she says. “We have fireman, sexy fireman… Plumber, sexy plumber…” – she shrugs – “to each their own… oh!” She takes out a pool of blue and red spandex, the midsection made of mesh. “Sexy superhero, perhaps?”

“A bit of a cliché, don’t you think?” he says with a scrunch of his nose.

“I agree,” Natasha chimes in, eyes moving towards him as she studies him carefully. She makes her way over to another rack, perusing through the various hangers before stopping at the one on the very end. “Perfect!” She lifts the hanger off, smiling as she turns to him and Agatha to show them the army service uniform. “What about a serviceman?”

He cocks a brow up teasingly. “Do you have a thing for soldiers or something?”

“Of course she does,” Agatha says just as a coy smile makes its way across Natasha’s lips. “No one can resist a man in uniform.” She eyes him from head to toe. “And handsome, you definitely have the build for it.”

“Does he ever,” Natasha remarks.

He chuckles. “Soldier it is then.” Natasha hands him the hanger, but just as he turns towards the dressing room, he notices how light the garments feel in his hands. “Hold on,” he says, examining the pants, tie, and then the coat. His brows furrow. “Where’s the shirt?”  

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat. “What shirt?”  

Moments later, his clothes are tucked into a vinyl bag with the House of Harkness logo emblazoned on the front. He exits the dressing room, standing in nothing but khaki pants, an olive tie around his neck, and the coat he had learned didn’t have a single button on it. As he does, both Natasha and Agatha give him a low whistle. He laughs, spinning slowly in a circle for them with his arms out wide. “You like?”

“What’s not to like?” Natasha says, the smile on her face making him feel like a million bucks. “You look great, Steve. Talk about making getting left at the altar fashionable.”

Next to Natasha, Agatha’s eyes widen as she turns to her, pointing to her dress. “This wasn’t a costume?”  

“Not initially,” Natasha says with a casual shrug. “Long story short, he found me drowning my sorrows in the dingiest bar I could find, and now we’re trying to have a night unlike any other.”

“And that you will, hon,” Agatha says, beaming from ear to ear as she leans in closer to Natasha. “You know the best way to get over someone though, right?”

“What’s that?” Natasha asks.

Agatha looks towards him before winking. “Get underneath someone else.”

There ought to be a guidebook for abandoned brides. The thought crosses Natasha’s mind as she brings her nth drink of the night to her lips and ponders the turn of events of her day. Is it okay to be shamelessly and willingly flirting with the soccer superstar you once had a fling with just hours after having your heart stomped on by your fiancé and your mother? Personally, she hadn’t a clue. Though According to Agatha, the answer is a resounding yes.

She is hardly, if ever, the type to take advice from a complete stranger. But whether it’s the confident tone with which Agatha had dispensed her little nugget of wisdom or just the effects of the circus of a day she’s having, as she stands underneath the neon lights of the House of Harkness, with every patron dancing their troubles away as the aerialists fly high above them, she can’t seem to get the words of the enigmatic hostess out of her head. Of the myriad of emotions she’s felt today, how much she craves – hell, how much she needs – a hot, unattached, toes-curling-into-the-duvet one night stand seems to be the one she just can’t shake, and as she looks towards the ridiculously handsome man standing next to her, his jawline the stuff of dreams even in the darkness of the club, she decides that she’s done caring about propriety and protocols for the day. Her only hope is that he is, too.

Only one way to find out.

She sets her drink back on the bar, leaning on her tiptoes to whisper in Steve’s ear. “You up for a dance?”

“Always,” he says as he turns to her with a smile, the buttonless army coat giving her a perfect view of his sinfully sculpted chest. As he takes her hand, leading her through a throng of bodies as Sia croons about cheap thrills over the speakers, she can’t help but internally pat herself on the back for her selecting this costume for him. How her day went from a clusterfuck to this, being led to the center of the dance floor by this Adonis of a man who has somehow managed to make the smile on her lips feel permanently etched on, she does not know or care – especially not when they settle into a groove, their bodies moving along to the beat. In fact, if this was the universe’s way of apologizing for today, then she’s going to welcome it with arms wide open.

“You have moves,” she finds herself saying later on between songs.

“And to think, you’ve barely seen half of them.”

She steps forward, enough that she can practically feel the heat radiating off his skin. “I don’t suppose you’d be opposed to showing me?”

He grins, eliciting a gasp from her when his arm finds her waist, pulling her in. “It’d be my pleasure, ma’am.”

She bites her lip at that, their bodies moving even closer. As they continue to move to the music, finally, for the first time today, she momentarily forgets about the fiasco of her afternoon. It’s as though the stench of betrayal she felt today has vaporized with every swivel of her hips, the humiliation slowly vanishing with every shimmy. With every new song that filters through the room, giving her a rhythm to follow, it’s as if she can feel the pain slowly disintegrating. It’s temporary, she knows, but if only in this moment, she allows herself to hope that she will eventually get through this all.

“You might have to get even closer for us to do this one justice,” Steve notes when a slower tune comes on and she notes how his eyes have grown dark, stormy.

She doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck. “Don’t mind if I do, soldier.”

“This dance feels a little more fitting for tonight, huh?” he asks as they begin to sway, their noses nearly touching at their proximity.

She hums at the thought. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He smiles. “I’m liking our version of a party, Nat.”

“Definitely better than what I had planned,” she concurs.

It’s absurd, but in a multitude of ways, she’s certain her words ring true. Given what’s happened today, it seems crazy for her stomach to feel as though its fluttering with the wings of a million butterflies with her want for this man – and yet it is. When she had asked him to dance, she was seeking for some sign that maybe he could be persuaded into being the short-term antidote to her current predicament. Their exchanges all night had given her the inkling that he might be game, but seeing the heated look in his eyes now, she’s confident that he’s all in.  

“So about what Agatha said…” she begins, cocking a brow up suggestively.

His lips slowly turn up in a smile.

“Sorry about the mess,” Steve says when they walk into his living room after stowing away her boots and props in his foyer. “Wasn’t exactly expecting company when I decided against putting away the magic castle fort this morning.”

“You can’t be serious,” she says, the traitorous muscle in her chest fluttering as she turns to him

His brows knit together. “Huh?”

“A magic castle fort,” she clarifies, pointing towards where the blanket edifice stands in lieu of his couch cushions. “I’m about to ask you to do dirty, dirty things to me, and here you are being cute-”

She squeals when he takes her by the waist, pulling her close. “You did not just call me cute.”

“There is nothing wrong with cute,” she argues, her eyes narrowing.

“Maybe not,” he says, his face so close to hers that she can feels the words as much as she hears them. “Doesn’t have the same ring to it as hot or sexy, though. Maybe give one of those a try.”

She hums as she sets her hands on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and every ridge of muscle as she trails them downwards. “You, mister, are dangerously sexy,” she whispers, her hands falling lower and lower still. “That good enough for you?”

“Very much so,” he manages to rasp out. He lets go off her waist to put a stop to her wandering hands. “But before this goes any further, any chance I can interest you in moving this to the bedroom? Might work better for what I have planned.”

“Take me there,” she says, gasping in surprise before letting out a laugh as he hoists her over his shoulder and carries her up the stairs. He takes it three steps at a time, effortlessly making it to the top with his arms wrapped around the back of her legs. He sets her down on her feet when they finally make it to his bedroom, not even looking the least bit winded. She chuckles. “Is it wrong that I actually enjoyed that show of strength?”

“Did you just admit to objectifying me?” he asks, smirking.

“Would you prefer I didn’t?”

“Actually, I was going to tell you to keep doing that all night,” he says, causing them both to laugh. “God knows how I’ve been looking at you all night.” The combination of his admission along with the way he allows his eyes to roam up and down her frame causes need to lick hotly across her skin. He nods towards her dress. “I assume this has a zipper?”

“Yeah-” she says, only to pause when an idea comes to mind. A fresh wave of excitement washes over her as she looks up at him. “Do you think you could rip it off me?”

His brows rise in surprise. “You want me to rip your dress off?”

She nods eagerly, the thought growing more appealing and cathartic with every second that passes. “Not like I’m ever wearing this again.”

“You could sell it, though.”

She could. Even with what this dress has been through today – the floors it has touched – one trip to the dry cleaners, and she knows she could still get substantial cash for this. But as sure as she is of her desire for him, she also knows that she needs to feel him tear her out of this dress as well, to lay waste to the last remaining vestige of this day. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “I want you to rip if off me.”

“If that’s what the lady wants,” he concedes, making a twirling motion with his index finger.

She turns around, bringing a hand to her stomach to quell the sudden buzz she feels when he reaches for the back of her dress. As his hands close around the delicate silk, her skin prickles in anticipation, and she takes in a deep breath as she awaits to hear the sound of the fabric giving in under his strength. She’s surprised though, when instead, he drops a feather-light kiss to her shoulder. “Steve,” she manages to breathe out, her eyes falling shut as he continues to pepper the skin of her back with kisses. It completely boggles her, how he had known she needed this act of tenderness, of reverence, before she had known herself. Even so, she doesn’t fight it as she melts into his touch, instantly craving more.

“You have the softest skin,” he murmurs into her shoulder, and the heat between her legs grows more unbearable with every press of his lips. Despite the eight years that’s passed, there’s no denying that he’s attuned to her body – has been from the moment she first felt his touch way back when. His kisses grow hungrier, and it’s when he nips lightly at her shoulder before soothing the spot over with his tongue that a moan slips from her lips. “Still like that, huh?”  

“From you, always,” she says, and she truly means it. She realizes now that she wasn’t seeing the full picture at the club – more than wanting a night with a warm body, what she really wants is a night with him.

He smiles into her skin, his hands once again finding the top of her dress. “You ready?”

She nods, watching as his fingers wrap around the material of her dress. In one fast, powerful jerk of his hands, the sound of fabric tearing fills the room, and she watches as her top falls and hangs limply on either side of her waist, the mere sight of it making the coil in her stomach feel as though it’s unfurling with desire. Faintly, she hears Steve asking for permission to continue, prompting another nod from her. He bends lower, giving the dress another forceful tug from the top of the skirt. With a rip, the material finally slivers the rest of the way down her body, pooling at her feet.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” Steve asks as he rises to his feet, his arms snaking around her from behind.

She turns in his arms, chuckling quietly, though he doesn’t miss the skepticism that flashes in her eyes. It’s glaring if only for the fact that he knows that she’s one of the most confident women he’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. It hurts him that the events of today have pierced that, have made her feel anything less than the powerhouse he knows her to be, and right then and there, he decides to add another facet to his mission tonight – not only is he going to cheer her up, but he’s also going to ensure that she never questions how desirable she is.

“Do you doubt me?” he asks, his hands finding their way to the back of her bustier, one of the last garments left on her body along with the small triangle of her panties and the lace garter on her thigh. He looks at her, holding her gaze even as his fingers work on the hooks and he waits for an answer. “I hate that you do.”

“No, I just-” Her words are replaced by a curse as her bra falls away, falling haphazardly to the ground between them.

“You just what, baby?” he whispers, his eyes never once leaving hers. Before she can utter her response, though, her lips part in a gasp when he cups her in one hand, her nipple pebbling underneath the ministrations of his thumb. “You look practically edible, I hope you know.”

“Steve,” she moans as he drops a kiss to her neck, his lips sucking at her pulse. Her hands land on his shoulders, pushing the coat off and down his arms.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?” he asks. She watches as he gets down on his knees before her, taking in a sharp breath. “Eight years, Nat.” He leans in to dust a kiss to her belly, eliciting another gasp from her when he licks a line above the waistband of her panties. “I’ve had eight years of wondering what you taste like.”

“You should probably find out then,” she quips back breathlessly, and when he looks back up, the smirk playing on her lips sends a fresh wave of desire right through him.

“Oh, I plan to.” He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her panties, pulling it down her legs along with the garter resting on her thigh. She attempts to step out of them, but his hands curl around her waist, keeping her in place as he nuzzles the curls just above where he knows she’s aching most. “Fuck, Natasha,” he mutters, feeling his length throb between his legs as he takes in the evidence of her arousal. “You’re so wet.”

“Seems you turn me on,” she says, her smile quickly dissolving into a whimper when he presses a kiss to her curls. “Steve,” she whispers, and he feels her knees nearly buckle. “Please.”

“Ssh,” he soothes. “I’ve got you, Nat.” Excitement fills her features when he pats her calf, gesturing for her to lift a leg over his shoulder. She does, opening herself up further to him. He inhales the intoxicating scent of her before bringing his head down between her thighs and licking a broad stripe up her center that has her reaching for his hair once more. She’s sweet and salty and exactly like the woman he hasn’t been able to get off his mind all these years, and like a man starved, he devours her.

“Oh, God,” Natasha cries out when his tongue flicks at the rise of her clit. She moves like a live wire, hips all but undulating into his face as he lavishes attention on her heated center. His name falls like a chant from her lips, causing his entire body to go up in flames. Whatever inhibition she had remaining tonight is washed away as she chases her pleasure, her hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

It's then that his lips find her bundle of nerves, and the strangled cry that she lets out as he begins to suck infuses every single cell of his with pride. “Fuck,” she whimpers, tensing for the briefest of moments before she’s trembling in his grasp, riding his face through her climax as her taste floods his tongue.

She’s still panting when he makes it back to his feet, all but collapsing into his embrace as she comes down from her high. Carefully, he leads them to his bed, setting her flat down on the center to let her catch her breath. Wordlessly, he strips, ridding himself of his pants and the tie still dangling from his neck before stretching out over her. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” she says, biting her lip when his hard length presses against her belly. She reaches between them, and he moans when she closes a fist around him. “Want you.”

“You don’t need a minute?” he asks even when he’s already delirious with desire. Tonight isn’t about him, though, so he steels himself with a breath.

“God, no,” she says, the words music to his ears as rolls off of her to reach for a condom on the nightstand.

When he returns, she parts her legs wide for him in invitation. His eyes wander from her shining emerald eyes, to the flush of color on her cheeks and chest, and then finally to her glistening center before letting out a groan. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right?”

“As are you,” she says, hands reaching for him. He pulls on the condom, before making his way back between her legs and feeling the full-body shudder from her as he slides against her slick heat.

“Do you believe how much I want you now?” he asks, his head rubbing up against her entrance teasingly. “Or do you still doubt me?”

“I believe you,” she says, her back arching off the bed as she tries to create more friction between them. “I fucking believe you, so now believe me when I say how much I need you.”

He doesn’t argue any further as he slides inside her, slowly filling her. Her breath hitches, his catches in his throat, coming out like a broken gasp when he finally bottoms out. “Natasha,” he says, “you feel incredible.”

“So do you,” she says, eliciting a moan from them both when she hooks her legs around him, locking her ankles at the small of his back. She wraps her hands around his neck, eyes shining as she asks, “will you kiss me?”

“Absolutely,” he says, causing her to chuckle before he leans down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. It’s then that he swivels his hips, driving into the hot clutch of her body and they get lost in one another.

“Yes,” she murmurs into their kiss at a particularly delicious slam on his hips.

“So good,” he echoes, finding her mouth once more. Their pace stays that way for a while – long, lingering kisses coupled with passionate thrusts as their limbs tangle and their mouths explore, the both of them gasping for breath. It’s enough until it isn’t, her back arching off the bed and her body rocking into his thrusts in search of more.

“Steve,” she whines, her nails digging into the skin of his back. “Deeper, want you deeper.” Something about the way she asks for exactly what she wants – without an ounce of shame – causes him to groan in delight. With that, he eases out of her, shifting them until she’s on her hands and knees.

“God, yes,” she replies, euphoria evident in her voice when he drives back into her in a single thrust. She sighs contentedly, and he forces himself to still for a moment as she adjusts to him. It’s when she begins to rock back against him that he brings a hand to the center of her back, pushing her gently down onto her elbows as he drives into her deep and hard, each thrust causing her body to shake with pleasure. With her cheek against the mattress, she cries out, the shift in angle making her gasp and cry his name out like a benediction. It doesn’t take long until her fingers curl into the duvet, her walls fluttering around him as she reaches her apex, and that’s enough to trip his own wires as he follows her right down the edge.

As the aftershocks radiate through him, he leans down to press a kiss to her shoulder before easing out of her and settling down on her other side. “I’ve been wanting to do that for almost a decade.”

“So you’ve said,” she says, voice still a little breathless as she turns her head in his direction. There’s happiness in her eyes now, though it looks fleeting. “Gotta admit, this isn’t how I expected my wedding night to go.”

He tenses at her words, and despite the blissful haze he’s still in, he tries to focus on the logical. Regardless of how much he wishes he could distract her from her day, the fact of the matter is reality – especially her reality – is hard to escape. “I’m sure you didn’t,” he says softly, reaching over to rub a soothing hand over her shoulder.

“That being said,” she continues, a smile playing on her lips as she reaches for him. “I’m weirdly glad to be here right now.”

He smiles. “I’m weirdly glad you’re here, too.”

“Can you stay?” he asks later after they’ve cleaned up and settled back in his bed, hoping with everything that he has that the answer is yes.

She lifts her head from his chest, expression confused as she looks at him. “You want me to?”

“Of course.” Genuine surprise fills her eyes, and once again he finds himself cursing the day’s events for leaving her questioning what should be obvious. “There’s nothing I’d like more, Natasha,” he adds. While bold, the statement is nothing short of the truth – something her former fiancé didn’t have the backbone to give – so he figures he can give her as much. “Stay the night?” As she contemplates his request, her teeth bother her bottom lip, a habit of hers that he’s quickly becoming privy to, and for a moment, he worries that he’s forcing her hand. “I mean, only if you want to-”

“I want to,” she says before he can finish his sentence, the skepticism slowly fading from her eyes as she smiles. “I really want to.”

“Great,” he says, dusting a kiss to her forehead when he’s suddenly hit by a realization. “Wait.” He sits up slowly, eyes growing wide. “Have you eaten at all tonight?” She shakes her head no, to which he groans. “Unacceptable. Clearly, I’m failing as a host.”

“It’s fine,” she says, amusement evident in her tone as she too sits up. “I’m pretty sure we were both distracted.”

“Be that as it may, I wasn’t raised to let my house guests go hungry,” he says, eyes going from the torn wedding dress on the floor and back to her. He walks over to his bureau, pulling on a pair of boxers before handing her one of his shirts, which she gladly takes.

“How do I look?” she asks, playfully modeling his training shirt.

“So good that if we don’t get out of here right now, we’ll never make it downstairs,” he says, watching as his words cause her to flush and secretly loving his ability to make that happen. He smiles, nodding towards the door. “Come on.”

“You cook,” she notes later on from where she’s parked on one of the stools around his kitchen counter, watching as he prepares a batch of eggs at the stove.

“You sound surprised,” he says as he continues to whisk. “Not everyone has to be a chef de cuisine, but I’m pretty sure knowing how to feed oneself is a basic life skill, no?”

“One would think.”

He watches as she scoffs, to which he arches a brow. “I’m guessing the Asshat didn’t know how to cook then?”

“Or work a dishwasher,” she says, “or a washer and dryer, for that matter.”

“Christ,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Well, I do have someone to cook for. And clean dishes for. And wash clothes for. In fact, you’d be surprised how much laundry a small person can accumulate in a short amount of time.”

She chuckles, nodding towards the picture on his fridge. “Gracie is beautiful, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I think so, but I might be a touch biased.”  

“Tell me about her,” she says.

“Gracie is… sunshine personified,” he says, his lips quickly lifting in a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he says as he kills the burner and moves the pan off the fire. “She’s the friendliest kid you’ll ever meet. Feisty, definitely, but still the sweetest. Recently, though, she’s been relentlessly campaigning for a puppy. She wants to name him Dodger.”

“Like from Oliver and Company?” she clarifies, her eyes lighting up.

“The very same,” he says with a chuckle, moving to pull out two plates from the cupboard. “I take it you’re familiar with the movie?”  

“It’s a classic, Steve,” she says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, you’d be surprised,” he counters, setting down a now filled plate before her. “One plate of pesto scrambled eggs with a side of extra toasted, some might even argue borderline burnt toast. Buttered, of course, just as the lady requested.”

“Thank you, chef,” she says as he works on filling his own plate before coyly adding, “I hope this comes with dessert.”

She’s smirking when he looks up, and he lets out a scoff as he moves around the island to take the seat next to hers. “Believe me, there’s going to be plenty of dessert.”

“Excellent,” she says, taking a bite of some eggs before moaning. “So, let me get this straight. You cook, you dole out orgasms like they’re candy” – she pauses to laugh at the little eyebrow wiggle he gives in approval – “you dance, and, according to SHIELD Sports reporting, you’ve recently switched from winger to striker on the pitch.” She whistles lowly. “Is that because you prefer one position over the other or are you just trying to ensure other men don’t stand a fighting chance at anything anymore?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had someone so casually admit to stalking me,” he opines, causing her to stick her tongue out. He chuckles. “Though, I have to admit, I do like the image of you Googling me while you were out in LA being a Pilates queen. You have, what, eight studios across the country now?”

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one stalking.”

“Some might say you crossed my mind every now and then,” he says. She reaches for her toast, hiding a smile, and he can’t deny how insanely adorable he finds the action. “To answer your question though, I wasn’t trying to obliterate the chances of my fellow men when I decided to switch positions. I’m going into my tenth professional season, and as much as I hate to admit it, there are a lot of miles on my legs.” He shrugs. “I’m not ready to give up the beautiful game just yet, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to become a poacher in the box instead.”

“Is that what you call forty goals across all competitions last season?” she says. “A lowly box poacher?”

He grins, and it’s not as though he was fishing for praise to begin with. He knows he’s good at his job – his stats, the team’s record, and the Champions League medals hanging in his living room make that abundantly clear. But hearing it from the woman he’s wildly attracted to? He’s certainly not going to complain. “Enough about me, though,” he says, shifting the subject. “Tell me about The Outset.”

Her eyes light up with pride at the mention of her business. “When Yelena – my sister – and I started, I don’t think either of us thought it would grow into this,” she says, disbelief coloring her tone. “It’s not as though we were aiming to become-”

“The forerunners in restorative Pilates?” he supplies. “According to both Women’s and Men’s Health magazines, that is.”

“Show off,” she mouths, shaking her head fondly. “But no, while the accolades are certainly appreciated, they’ve never been the goal. All we wanted to do was show people how Pilates could be used as a vehicle to heal after injury. You know, give people a shot at a new beginning. Everything else… the merchandise, the classes, the upcoming skincare line… they all just kind of blossomed from that.”

“And you’re the shining face of it all,” he says. “The Outset’s very own in-house Wellness Goddess.”

She cringes slightly, clearly uncomfortable by the moniker used in the article. “By happenstance, maybe,” she concedes. “Yelena has this aversion to posing, so she’s not into the promotional work. Much prefers to balance the books and take the meetings with the clients and the labs we work with while I run the classes.” She shrugs. “Not that I mind. It’s been really good for my body, but especially for my balance.”

“I noticed,” he says with a wink, recalling the ease with which she had kept her herself upright not so long ago. He takes both their plates in his hands before rising making his way over to the sink to rinse them off.

“You know…” she says, coming to stand next to him to lean a hip against the sink. “If you liked testing my balance, you might want to check my flex- Steve!”

He does not let her finish her sentence as he cuts the water and scoops her up in his arms, eliciting a giggle from her as he carries her back upstairs. “Any objections to me making up for not kissing you enough?” he asks once her feet touch the floor of his bedroom. She mimes zipping her lips, making him smile. “Good, because when I’m done, there won’t be an inch of you left unkissed.”

“Lucky me,” she barely manages to whisper before he dips his head down, capturing her lips in his. He pulls her closer, her hands flying to his hair as he kisses her breathless – slowly, languidly, chasing her lips like a man starved as she melts into his touch. And because he wants to make good on his promise of making up for not only tonight, but also for all the years they’ve been absent from each other’s lives, when he lays her down on the bed, pulling his shirt up and over her, he ensures to press his lips against the skin of her shoulders, down the column of her throat and her chest, paying special attention to the roses tattooed just below her ribcage.

“Steve,” she whimpers. He looks to find her heaving for breath, a ravenous look in her eyes. “Enough teasing, please.”

He nods at the request, pulling her to him as this time, he’s the one that settles on his back. “Get up here,” he says, guiding her until her legs are bracketed on either side of his head. His hands find her waist, bringing her down on his mouth and soliciting a wanton moan from her. He pulls her apart that way, tongue lapping at her folds until she’s throwing her had back in ecstasy, her curls flowing like a crimson waterfall down her back as she careens over the edge. And then again, moments later, with her back to his chest as he hooks a hand under her knee, opening her up to him as he takes her. As his hand finds her bundle of nerves, circling tightly, he whispers sweet nothings into her ear until they’re both trembling with their release.

“Thanks for walking into my dingy bar,” he whispers later just as her eyes begin to flutter close, reveling in the soft, contented sigh and the smile she gives him just as she falls asleep.

Coffee?

“He’s not real,” she mutters, crashing back down against the pillows with a sigh after she reads the Post-it Steve had left for her. Sunlight peers through the liminal space between the curtains, alerting her of the new day, and despite the fact that she’s giddy, grinning like an idiot, and feeling satiated in a way she hasn’t been in a long while, her head is also throbbing with confusion.

Twenty-four hours ago, she was about to spend the rest of her life with someone who isn’t the man currently responsible for the smile on her face. She was going to promise to love and cherish a guy who can’t stand the cold but also only drinks his whisky on the rocks. Instead, she had spent the night with one who could command a stove just as masterfully as he had the dance floor at the bar. And if that isn’t enough to make her head spin, despite the bizarre turn of events, she finds that she absolutely enjoyed last night – would even go out on a limb to say that she loved it.

The mind-blogging sex notwithstanding, she loved the laughter and their back-and-forth banter, but most of all, she loved the conversation. She loved hearing about how much he adored his daughter, how passionate he still is about his career even after all this time. What’s more, she loved that he actually wanted to know more about her, about her story and about the things she’s passionate about. In more ways than one, last night had felt like the date she and Steve never got to have. It was perfect, save for the timing, and that’s the part that causes sadness to bloom unbidden in her chest. For the reality is that regardless of how extraordinary her short time with Steve has been, she knows that at this point in time, nothing can come of it. How could it, when it’s taken one night with him to make her realize that she was never truly sure about Johnny. How could it, when she couldn’t trust her own choices at the moment, her faith in her own judgement all but shattered.

More than anything else, though, she knows what she truly needs is time. Time to lick her wounds. Time to clear her head. Time to guzzle wine with her friends and lose herself in an arduous workout. Time to heal. And that’s what she tells Steve, later on once they’ve both finished their respective mugs of coffee and she voices that it’s about time that she leaves.

A disappointed expression paints his features, but she’s relieved when he manages to reel it in, exchanging it for one of understanding. He sighs. “What’s the saying? All good things…”

“Must come to an end,” she finishes for him, smiling ruefully. “And it was a great thing.”

“It was,” he says before nodding towards the door. “Can I call you a car service? Maybe also get you a fresh pair of clothes to go home in?”

She agrees to both, watching as he pulls out his phone to make the call and heads up the stairs to retrieve some clothes. When he returns, he hands her a sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. She slips the garments on, swimming in the fabric of both, with the latter being the worst offender as it slips off her waist.

“Wait here,” he says, this time disappearing into the kitchen. He’s back a few seconds later with something balled in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.

“Twine?” she asks, lips twitching with a grin. “You’re really going to tie me up like a pot roast?”

“Would you rather give the driver a show?” he retorts, chuckling and subsequently shaking his head at the nonchalant shrug she gives him in response. He cuts out just enough of the twine to make a makeshift belt, looping it around her waist to secure her pants. “There.”

“Thank you,” she says as they both silently make their way towards his foyer. It’s as she’s putting on her boots that she adds, “do you mind just tossing what’s left of my wedding dress?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he confirms.

“Thanks,” she finds herself saying again. “And for ripping it off me.”

“I think I should be thanking you,” he says with a grin, “considering the pleasure was all mine.”

“Don’t be too sure about that,” she whispers. They both smile at that, stares lingering before she huffs out a breath. “I’d love for us to see each other again, but…”

“I know,” he says with his own sigh. “Our timing’s been…”

“Shit?”

He chuckles. “I guess there’s really no way around that one.”

She hums in agreement, clearing her throat to keep from choking up a little at the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overcome her. “I just need to sort out my head…” she begins, and because she knows that even if that’s the reality she finds herself in, she still doesn’t want to just walk away, she adds, “but maybe we can try again in the Fall?” As she voices the question though, the problem immediately dawns on her, prompting her to shake her head. “But then the season starts-”

“It does,” he interrupts. “But Natasha, I’d like nothing more than to make time for you. For us.” She looks up at him, surprised by his words. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

She smiles. “Here’s to hoping.”

When the car service arrives at the front, he bids her goodbye with a final kiss before opening the door for her. “Wait,” she says just as she’s about to slide into the back. “I’ll return your clothes after I’ve washed them. Maybe I can mail them back?”

He shakes his head no. “I’ve got plenty of clothes to keep me warm until September,” he says. “Why don’t you keep them and give them back to me when you’re ready for our date?”

“Deal,” she says, beaming at the promise in the words. “Goodbye, Steve.”

“Take care of yourself, Natasha,” he says, waiting until she’s inside the car to push the door shut.

As the car pulls away from the curb, she leans her head back against the back of the seat, letting out a long and winded sigh. Her head and her heart are an irrefutable mess, but one thing’s for certain – she’s happier and more hopeful than she was yesterday.  

[footy-fictionist]

The biggest support - Nico Schlotterbeck

Pairing: Nico Schlotterbeck x female reader

Warnings: fluff, interactions between the reader and teammates, Marco Reus' wife and daughter are mentioned, the schalke game, little bit of an argument but really just mentioned, mentions of having kids one day, bit of teasing from Karim

Word count: 2370

Note: As always English is not my first language. I know not a lot of people are Schlotterbeck lovers, but this is probably the imagine I love most. It's probably also why it's the longest. I don't know anyone personally, so I don't know what they're like. It has the Schalke game in it, but other than that it's completely fictional. If I missed anything in the warnings, please let me know. Please, do not copy and/or publish my work, reblogging is fine.

Today is the day of the game against Schalke, the revierderby. Nico absolutely couldn’t wait for it. It’s one of the most important games of the season and the last one they won at the Westfalen stadium. As his girlfriend she also remembered how much he loved that game. And she did too, the atmosphere in the stadium, the support of the fans. Even the cursing at each other’s clubs had her cracking up. She had admired how passionate Nico was playing during that game and how happy he was after. 

But this time, the game would be played at the VELTINS-Arena. She wanted to go and watch the game live at the stadium, but Nico didn’t agree. Since this is quite a heated game with a lot of passionate fans, he’s afraid something might happen to her. And that is something he doesn’t want at all, the idea already makes him shiver. So he suggested she stay at home and that she invites Karim since he wouldn’t be fit for the game yet. It caused a bit of an argument, with her wanting to be at the stadium and him wanting her to stay home where she’s 100% safe. She knew she wouldn’t win though, so eventually she agreed (albeit quite grumpily). 

Since she’s quite stubborn she was grumpy right up until he had to leave for the game. And of course she couldn’t stay grumpy when he left. She got a little emotional whilst wishing him good luck, hating the fact that she couldn’t be there in person for him during such an important game. He understood why she was upset and comforted her, thanking her for the luck she wished him and thanking her for staying safe and giving him some peace of mind before the game. They share a tight hug and a kiss, with her holding him a little longer than necessary, not that he complained. 

After he left she did some more tidying up, making sure everything was set to watch the game with the lads. She had asked Karim if he wanted to watch with her after her argument with Nico and he immediately asked if he could bring some of the other injured/unfit teammates too. To which she agreed of course. The boys are great company and Marco agreed to bring his partner and little girl as well. So it turned into a whole football watching party. Not too long after tidying up and putting on one of Nico’s jerseys, the doorbell rings.

She opens the door to find Karim, Youssoufa, Marco with Scarlett and their little girl, Julian and Gregor. She ushers everyone in and they walk towards the living room. She makes sure everyone has a drink before sitting down next to Scarlett. Marco and Scarlett’s little girl immediately climbs over to sit in her lap. She helps the little girl, sits her down comfortably and continues talking to everyone whilst giving a few cuddles and back rubs to the little girl. She’s unaware of the men taking pictures of the three ladies, ready for the game to start. Karim knows he’ll send these to Nico right after the game so as to not distract him beforehand.

Soon enough it’s time for the game to start and her focus shifts to the screen. It’s an intense game and she’s quite nervous. She checks on the little girl in her lap, only to find the three year old completely relaxed and comfortable in her arms. There are chances for both sides, which makes it more nerve wrecking, some child friendly cursing leaving the men. And then it happens, he’s already defended well and given a lot of good passes, but now he scores out of nowhere. He scores like a playmaker instead of a defender. A gasp leaves her mouth as Nico scores, her mouth falling open in awe of her boyfriend. Not even noticing Karim filming her reaction to the goal her boyfriend scores. She gushes to Scarlett who sees herself in the way the girl looks at her boyfriend and the admiration that’s in her eyes. 

At half time she still is filled with pride for her boyfriend who was the only one to score in the first half. She’s discussing with Karim and Julian what could have gone better and how Nico’s goal was a beautiful shot on target with perfect timing. The food also arrives around that time, having ordered it with the request of the delivery being around half time. Scarlett feeds her little girl who’s still sat in the same spot, just a little more turned towards her mother. Everyone finishes their food in record time, all focussed on the game that started again. There are groans of distaste and a bit of anger when they concede. Only to turn back into cheers when Rafa scores the 2-1. 

After the 2-1 she checks on the little girl in her lap again, only to find her fast asleep. With a full tummy and having had a busy day, the little girl is completely exhausted. Scarlett asks if she needs to take her, but she refuses. She loves the warmth emitting from the 3 year old and the cuddles she gets in the meantime. Nico is still playing a brilliant game and runs forward a lot to help the lads attack. There are a lot of missed chances, when suddenly Schalke scores the equalizer. It frustrates the men incredibly and she has to admit she’s disappointed as well. A draw is definitely not what they’re looking for. Especially not since Nico is playing an incredible game and she doesn’t want him to be disappointed after playing so well. 

He’s attacking again in the 90th minute, almost breaking through into the box. This has her with her mouth open again and Karim filming her whole reaction. He knows his best friend is gonna love all these video’s of her admiring him and the little girl in her lap. She looks up suddenly and catches him recording. Her eyes go wide and she immediately holds up a hand towards the phone, blocking her own face.

“Stop Karim, delete that right now.”

“Definitely not, this is going straight to Nico’s phone. He’ll appreciate the way you admire him during the game.” He doesn’t mention the little girl in her lap in fear of freaking her out.

“No, he doesn’t need to see that. His ego is big enough as it is without having to see that.” 

She playfully tries to convince Karim to delete it during the last few minutes of the game, but he won’t budge, so she accepts it and holds the sleeping girl in her lap a little tighter. When the game ends, she sees the defeat on the faces of the boys on the field. Her heart breaks a little when she sees Jude sit down, taking off the tape around his knee. The camera switches to Nico’s disappointed face and she immediately pouts at her boyfriend. He deserved a lot better, he played so well all game. He was brilliant and for his effort alone they should have won the game. Soon enough she gets another shot of him talking to a Schalke player and laughing, which lifts her spirits a little. 

Not too long after the game everyone is leaving. She carefully hands the sleeping three year old to Marco, as he and Scarlett thank her for everything. She of course tells them it’s no trouble and that she loves their little girl. Eventually it’s just her and Karim left, who helps her clean up the house. They work in comfortable silence, one of them sharing their comments on the game every once in a while. 

“Did you really send that video to Nico?”

“Yes and a few others I took before that as well. I didn’t think you’d mind, I just thought it was adorable that you support him this much. If you do mind, I’m so sorry for crossing that line.”

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t really expect it and well it was a bit of banter to go against you.”

They finish up with cleaning and she walks with Karim to the door. They hug each other goodbye and Karim requests her to make sure Nico doesn’t try to downgrade his performance. She agrees to his request, knowing how hard her boyfriend can be on himself. Karim thanks her for everything before leaving the apartment. She goes back inside and makes herself a warm drink before taking a seat on the couch with a blanket and putting on a tv-show. She sends Nico a text, telling him she’s incredibly proud of him.

Around the same time Nico is in the changing room and checking his phone. He sees quite a few messages from Karim. He opens the pictures and videos to find they are about his girlfriend. He sees her admiring him on the tv whilst caressing the back of Marco’s three year old who’s on her lap. A smile lights up his face, watching her watch him. He can’t help but imagine how it would be one day, her with their own child, admiring him and cheering him on. He thanks Karim for the pictures and videos, not feeling so down anymore. He reads her text and sends her back that he’ll be home soon along with a heart. 

He’s all smiles when they get on the bus to go back home, the other men noticing his odd behaviour after a draw. He’s usually grumpy after a draw, especially after a game that’s as important as this one. Mats sits next to him and asks what’s got him smiling. So he shows Mats the video’s Karim sent to him and Mats gives Nico a big smile.

“She’s the one for you, isn’t she?”

Nico looks up at the older man, giving his question a thought. He doesn’t have to think long before agreeing with him. Knowing that the idea of having kids with her is enough to convince himself that she’s the one. He knows she’ll still be awake when he gets home, she barely sleeps when he’s not there. He gets home fairly quickly and eagerly, but quietly opens the door to their apartment. He finds her completely relaxed on their couch. He just stands in the doorframe, admiring her this time around. She soon enough notices him in the doorway. She immediately jumps up, almost tripping over the blanket to get to him.

He catches her around her waist before she can completely trip, laughing at her clumsiness. She wraps her arms around his neck, nuzzling her face into his neck. She whispers how proud she is of him, to which he shrugs a little, a sign that he doesn’t agree with her all that much. She immediately fully pulls away from him, to which he almost whines and he goes to follow her. She grabs his hands though and makes sure he looks her straight in the eyes.

“Don’t you dare downgrade your own performance today. I will not accept that and if you really want to do it, then I will not give you any love anymore tonight. You don’t get to downgrade yourself when you were the best man on that field today. You were defending, you were attacking, you scored! I know you didn’t win but that doesn’t mean you didn’t have a good game.”

He could have stopped her speech easily, but he didn’t want to. He loves the way she talks about him to him, knowing that she truly cares and loves him. She keeps on going though and he will have to stop her rant soon enough. So he leans forward whilst still holding her hands and presses his lips to hers. As if on autopilot, she kisses back, completely forgetting she was on a rant to get him to realize how well he played. He smiles into the kiss, something he’s never done in the relationships before her. No one cared as much then, as she cares for him now. He pulls away this time, with her chasing his lips.

“Thank you, for always having my back.”

She smiles at him, pulls her hands from his only to wrap them back around his neck, his arms immediately wrapping back around her waist. He leans his forehead against hers, both of them closing their eyes and taking in the moment. He pulls away his head a little, only to press a few kisses along her cheeks, ending up at her lips. He mumbles against her lips how he got Karim’s photos and videos. A blush takes over her cheeks, making him laugh. He tells her how much he appreciated them and how he appreciates her and her support. She hides her face against his shoulder, as he whispers into her ear.

“I know it’s too early now, but one day I hope that will be you with our kid, meine Liebe.”

She agrees with him, pressing a kiss to his cheek this time. They move to the couch again, where she takes a seat first. He grabs the blanket and moves to sit in between her legs. Fully relaxing against her after wrapping the blanket around the both of them. She wraps her around his shoulder, one hand moving to his hair. She runs her fingers through it, softly scratching his scalp, happy that he didn’t add gel to it again after showering. The blonde has almost faded, the brown completely taking over again. She loves both colours on him, but secretly she’s praying he dyes it blonde again. 

He shifts a little to get a bit more comfortable, she moves with him and eventually both of them are satisfied with the position they’re in. She presses a kiss to his forehead, to which he looks up. She smiles down at him, whilst he smiles up at her. She presses a kiss to his lips before letting him nuzzle himself against her again. And as his body completely relaxes against her, all she can think about is how much she loves him. And how she’s sure he is her forever. 

Meine Liebe: my love

[ultfreakme]

Who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? Feel free if you want to write the reasons or not of why you love them...

Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

Hi Anon!! Hope you're doing well! OOOOH this is a tough one, I have so many ships I enjoy, I think I change pairings and find new ones every few months. But if I had to pick........

AkaFuri (Akashi x Furihata from Kuroko No Basuke): I've shipped them the longest, I'm pretty sure my writing got better through writing and researching for fics of the ship. I also transitioned from traditional to digital drawing through drawing this ship, so yay it's them! I love them because Furihata was someone Akashi and everyone underestimated but Furihata defied everyone's expectations, conquered his fears and managed to stand up against him. Kuroko and the Seirin basketball team changed Akashi's opinions and made him see everyone as equals, but Furihata sorta kickstarted that.

ItaJun (Itadori x Junpei from Jujutsu Kaisen): I actually shipped them back when JJK was first airing! So that's three years with them dear god. I made a post about them but to summarize, I love the potential they had & loved how they clicked together!

Zukka (Zuko x Sokka from Avatar The Last Airbender): This one's relatively new but they got me obsessed enough to write a 300k word for for them and made me go on an unstoppable and frankly unhealthy drawing spree for months (I have a callous on my hand...unsure if it's because of just them but they definitely didn't help). I love their dynamic, they play off each other well, make up for each other's weaknesses and their interactions are always funny to watch. They're very cute to me.

JonJay/JayJon (Jon Kent x Jay Nakamura from DC Comics): A CANON COUPLE!!! They're very adorable and I enjoyed watching the way they helped each other get to their goals in their introduction comic as a couple(Superman Son of Kal El). Watching Superman be bi and have an Asian bf was just, very inspiring. The way Jon's heroism and ideals are defined by Jay's ideals is so cool.

I have a lot more which I can put as honorable mentions: Korrasami (The Legend of Korra), SatoSugu(Jujutsu Kaisen), Stucky (the Captain America Trilogy was awesome and the only part I like from the MCU), KiriBaku(I think I'm pretty much over them now unless I get back into BNHA), Calliette(bring back First Kill please please PLEASE), XiCheng(Jiang Cheng x Lan Xichen from MDZS), BingQiu & MoShang (both from Scum Villain Self-Saving system).

These are the ones I remember. There's probably some crucial formative ship for me that I'm missing but rn I think this is it.

My qualifications for being obsessed with a ship are:

HAS to be gay

They should be complementary in some way

The franchise they come from needs to have a plot that isn't their relationship, but their relationship, or just the character's motivation is sorta woven into the overarching theme of the story. Example; In AkaFuri, Furihata is instrumental in defeating Akashi and his team because Furihata isn't there to exactly take down Akashi. He CAN'T. But if he works with everyone else on his team, he stands a chance and can make a difference. The ultimate theme of KNB is that we should value friendship, teammates and should lift each other up rather than view the world as enemies to defeat. Korra and Asami are seemingly polar opposite with Korra being a representative of spirits while Asami is a representative of human technological advancement. TLOK is about harmony between these two aspects of the world, and Korrasami's relationship is a representation of that. I think pretty much all my ships can work like that (Jiang Cheng is too cynical, never lets anyone close and is prone to conflict, Lan Xichen is too trusting and too complicit, never wanting conflict and therefore not really confronting anything and BOTH of these flaws of theirs are to their detriment, etc etc).

I think I like ships which I can use to examine the themes of the main story, and see how the union of two people could influence the meaning of the canon.

And, I'll be honest, it's also about how aesthetic they are together and how good the smut potential is. It's shipping in the end, and I can write thousand-word meta essays but also be going gaga over their smut lmao.

Hope this was an adequate reply!! Also please don't apologize, I hadn't answered this before I think? haha i keep forgetting what i write.