#we were playing the football in work the day and one of the players collapsed on the pitch and had to have cpr

[georgiapeach30513]

Keys in Your Ignition, Part 12

Summary:  a fall day with Curtis

Pairings:  Curtis Everett X Reader

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of Jessie’s car wreck, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Howard opens the front door, to see his oldest son standing there with a fake smile, and he looks down at his boots.  Impressed that he wasn’t wearing his cut, “Uh, I was going to spend some time with Doll today.”

“She’s sleeping. She had a long day. First work at the bookstore, and then a quick session with me.”

“Well,” Curtis pushes past his dad, his direction already turning towards the stairs, “She’s about to have a quick session with me. And I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. We’re just friends. I was going to take her for a ride. In my truck, and we’re bringing home some pumpkins and candy, and you know just get ready for the trick or treaters? Hayden coming?”

“Hayden is finishing up his semester. You know what that’s like,” with a shrug Curtis continues on his way up the stairs. He hates his father bringing up his schooling.  Hayden was going to make his father proud.  Curtis was a disappointment.  He didn’t even bother to knock when he bursts in your room.

“Uh,” you sit up in the bed quickly. Upon seeing Curtis, you collapse back down to the bed. Slinging the blanket over your body, you pull one of the pillows to your chest, snuggling your face in it. You missed having someone in here. The cuddles were always the best. “Go away.”

“It’s time to wake up.”

“It’s time to sleep. Let me sleep in peace,” Curtis drops down on the bed beside you, and you give him a nudge with your foot. “Out. You’re making the bed feel weird.”

“If you want to sleep, you’re sleeping with me.”

“Gross.”

“I suck today. Everything I say comes out wrong. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.  Come on, let’s go fall shopping. It’s Halloween, and we got to get our costumes in order. We’re gonna get some pumpkins to carve. Mom makes these sugar cookies that are prettier than they taste. She puts on some apple cider for us to drink while we sit and watch Halloween movies and wait for trick or treaters.”

Your eyes drift close slowly. It sounded like a dream, “Why did you ever leave here?”

“Several reasons, none of which I want to get into right now.  Come on. I’ve got a surprise…well, I got something to show you.”

You never understood why Curtis felt the need to leave his quaint little town. He had a dream life, with adorable traditions, and parents that came home every night, neighborhood kids to play with, and even siblings that got along. “Hayden was a football player, huh? What sports did you play?” lifting up a trophy Hayden must have earned when he was quite young.

“Lacrosse. Now come on. Don’t make me drag you out of bed.”

“You mentioned what we were going to snack on. What’s for supper?”

He gives you a quick smile. Even though it pained you to hear about a life you’d only dream of, it brought you so much joy, and now his family was sharing their traditions with you. It made him happier knowing you get to experience all this.

“Chili with all the fixings. Go on. Look, mom laid out an outfit for you,” he points over to a chair with a long black sweater and some sparkly leggings.  Even cute little booties.  “We love the Halloween time.  Do you want more classic movies or horror?  Mom has to leave for the horror.  She’s too sensitive for that.”

“Shh, let me sleep for thirty more minutes,” you say, flinging the blankets over him as well. Twisting your body in the opposite direction.

“You know you sleep with your leg and ass hanging out of the covers?” you give him a groan, and kick at his leg. “Honestly, if you’re gonna sleep like that you should really wear panties that cover your ass.”

“Curtis!”

“Get up! Let’s go, come on. I’ve got to show you something.”

“Make me tea while I get dressed then. Ugh! You’re so infuriating.”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t annoy you,” he gives you a smirk walking towards the door. “Doll! No throwing pillows in the,” you throw a pillow right at his face, “house. I’m telling mom!”

“Ahh! Go on!”

Sipping on a cup of tea, letting the floral brew warm you from the inside out.  You glance up at Curtis, giving him a quick smile, “So what’s the surprise?”

“Surprise? Honey, that’s sweet,” Tara says, pulling up your cup to wash.  She was always going behind you before you could even do anything.  Tara would never admit it, but she missed having her kids at home.  Things were too quiet.  And she was getting another daughter.  Cherishing every moment with you.

“I misspoke. I meant, I had to show you something.”

“You’ve misspoke a lot today. You also said you were going to sleep with me,” Tara gives him a playful whack to the back of his head, causing everyone to laugh. “Seriously where are we going?”

“Pumpkin patch. To the store, we need candy and you need some cat ears or something. Come on, let’s go,” begrudgingly you go to leave.  You thought today was going to be a day of nothing.  You give a hug to both his parents before following him out to the truck, giving a quick little sad face at his bike.

“It’s too small. We’re getting pumpkins. Can’t carve them all. Mom processes the pumpkins for thanksgiving. Get in kitty cat.”

“I never agreed to be a cat. What are you going to be, a dog?”

“I have bat ears and bat wings,” you jump in the car and go into a hysterical round of laughter. Snorting and gasping for air. “It’s not funny. I do. Halloween is my favorite. Why do you think I never was around the end of October? It’s the one holiday that dad tolerates me.”

“Howard is not bad,” you say, giving him a nudge. “He loves you, despite what you think,” Curtis shrugs, while you look out the window. Putting the glass down you lean out of it. It’d been a few months since you had seen or heard from anyone in the club. Curtis still kept your phone with him, because you didn’t trust yourself.  You take a deep breath of the autumn air, finding a peace in the simplicity of life.  

Nights were the hardest. Sometimes crying in your pillow, but most of the time you sat on the back porch staring at their childhood playground. Trying to think where you would be had you grown up with them. Curtis made more effort to come over just to hang out. He made sure you got out of the house for more than just work.

“How’s the bookstore?” he asks, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“It’s good. You know, Howard, he brought me these pamphlets of different schools. He said that I could go into accounting.  He said I could do well with that as a career.  Even helped him,” Curtis turns and looks at you with the biggest smile. “And that there’s scholarships and everything. I’ve been saving my money for a car. They won’t let me pay rent or anything. But what do you think of school next fall for me?”

“I think you can do whatever you set your mind to.”

Giving him a quick smile, but your attention goes elsewhere, gasping when the most perfect house comes into view, “Stop!” he slams on the brakes, and pulls over, and you jump out looking at it. Fenced in yard, front porch swing, “Looks like there’s a place in the back for kids to play. The porch would be perfect for a pile of pumpkins. Have it decorated like a gingerbread house for Christmas. You think…you think I could ever have that?”

“Of course.”

“With JB?” his face falls when he turns and looks at you. “I keep running these scenarios in my head. He’s the only person I ever loved, but he’s got his own set of issues. And I know everyone does, but I don’t wanna go back. I want…I want this. I want to have that.  Our kids to see their dad every day. That two car garage with his car, and my mom car. Going to soccer games, or baseball, or ballet, whatever they wanted. Wake up with him beside me, and knowing he’s not on some run hooking up with another bike bunny. I want the ring on his finger to mean something. I want to be proud of our last name, and my kids not worry if he’s going to be shot. I want this with JB, but I’m not changing my mind.  I need this. I need stability.”

“Why don’t you worry about you, and let Bucky worry about himself. Hear me out, he has no idea where you are. It’s only been a few months, and you don’t have to have a man. And even when you want someone to share your life with, it doesn’t have to be him. You don’t have to end up with your first love. You need to be with the one you can’t live without. Be with someone that wants this, and not the MC. Look at me, I’m in my thirties and not married. No one said it has to be right now. You’re young, hot, and when you’re ready, and least expect it, you’re going to find someone that wants this.”

With a sigh you lean over on his shoulder, your eyes still looking at that house, the for sale sign in front. It was perfect. “I’m not ready to see him.”

“I know.”

“Come on,” pulling at his hand, you lead the two of you back to his truck. “Let’s get your pumpkins.”

“First, I got to show you this place. My special place, I guess.”

“Curtis has a special place?”

He shrugs, opening your door. “It’s like you with the back porch. Mom says you sit there every morning and evening. What are you doing?”

“Thinking and dreaming. It’s all I feel okay doing right now. Sessions are still going well. Apparently I was running away from emotions.”

“Yeah, you knew that too. Create chaos so you don’t have to live in the chaos that’s your brain.”

“Do you think Hayden will like me? I mean, I’m living in his room, and it’s like he’s avoiding coming home, and this is his home. I don’t…”

“Hayden is fine,” Curtis slows the truck down on the side of the road, looking over to the distance, and you follow his gaze. “He’s trying to fast track his time at Harvard. Following in dad’s footsteps.”

“What did you go to school for?”

“Same thing,” he says, quickly getting out of the truck and walking towards the woods. Leaves crunching under him, until he stops, and you assume it’s to wait on you. “I wanted to write self help books. Use what I learned to help people at their own pace.”

Walking over towards Curtis, he just folds his legs to sit down. Taking a deep breath, while he stares blankly in front of him.

“She called me that day. Said Brock had escalated. Thrown all her stuff out the window. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that. She was away from him, but she went back. And it just pissed me off. We always were getting into a fight, and it was always over him. I told her she deserved better, and he always weaseled back in when she was almost gone. It was always this same cycle. Always. She was drowning in her misery, and I couldn’t watch anymore.”

He goes silent for a moment, when you find what he’s looking at; a tree that has now grown at an awkward angle. “It’s a fucking straight road. I could hear him screaming at her. She was cussing at him, and I told her to just shut up, and I would get her away from him. I heard everything. He laughed and told her let’s see if your brother can get you out of this. I was already in my car, but it didn’t matter. He drove straight into that tree, with my baby sister in the car. He died on impact. She didn’t. She died scared and alone.”

Covering his eyes, you pull him over onto your shoulder, holding onto this giant man like he was a small child. “They were toxic for each other. She had so many outs. But she loved how obsessive he was with her. If he couldn’t have her, no one would kinda shit. But I could have stopped it.”

“How?”

“She called earlier. And I ignored it. What if she was ready to leave then? What if she was alone, and he caught her trying to leave? It’s my fault she was with him. I could have tried harder. I could have…”

“Curtis, her death isn’t your fault. It was Brock’s. He did this.”

“I could have told mom and dad how bad it was.”

“You’re a good man,” those crystal blue eyes peek up to look at you, and he shakes his head, “You are. You’re one of the best. You’re protective, smart, patient, kind, a bit demanding, but it’s because you want to make sure people are happy.”

Your thumb wipes away his tears, and you give him a sad smile, looking down at him. Lifting his head off your shoulder, he leans in. His lips barely brushing against yours before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Not only was that bad timing,” he huffs out a laugh.

“It was gross,” you finish for him, and he snorts.

“Yeah, you’re a terrible kisser.”

“That wasn’t even a kiss!”

“I don’t even know how you managed two men when you’re kissing like that.”

“Curtis, are you changing the subject, because you don’t want to talk about Jessie anymore?”

“Yep. Maybe another day,” he stands up, offering a hand down to you, “Next time, don’t try and kiss me. It was the worst kiss of my life.”

You give him a nudge when you stand up, going to run to the truck. “It was horrible, Doll! I can’t believe you did that!”

“You kissed me, Curtis! How long have you been wanting to do that?”

“I mean, that first time you served me at the bar. Leaning over with your tits almost hanging out, the thought crossed my mind to take you into one of the rooms. But I saw what a mess you were. Saw both Bucky and Ari touching your ass any chance they got, when they thought no one was looking. And then I thought about it the last time I was here and you fell asleep on me when we were watching a movie. I’m sorry, Doll, this crush you’re developing is gonna have to stop.”

“You kissed me!”

“And it was disgusting.”

Rolling your eyes you flick him in between his nose, “Take me to get pumpkins and cat ears. I’m ready to hand out candy and eat sugar cookies until I pass out on your arm, and hopefully you won’t make another pass at me.”

“Doll,” his voice turns serious. Starting the truck, he turns to look at you, “Thank you for listening. I’ve never told anyone that.”

“You’re welcome.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist:  @tis-thedamn-season​ @marveloustaylortot​ @pono-pura-vida​ @sstan-hoe​ @peaches1958​ @kaybaby2494 @flannellover67​ @infatuatedjanes​ @redbloodedgurl​ @thedarknessilove​ @whimsyplaty92​ @tryingtosurvivestuff​ @superforgottensoul​  

[talenlee]

Playing For Money

Hey if a game is the consensual overcoming of unnecessary obstacles, are people still playing a game if they’re being paid to play?

What if the game does not have money as part of the game?

What if being seen as playing the game is incentivised?

Is capitalism fundamentally violent?

Sure let’s start it off with some easy questions.

Alright let’s unpack this a little bit I guess.

First up there’s game. The definition of game I use, because I like it and it’s better than the others and it doesn’t involve asserting that may be Dutch imperialism was good actually, comes from Bernard Suits’ The Grasshopper. This definition I summarise as:

A game is the consensual overcoming of unnecessary obstacles.

With a treatment given to each of those terms. The obstacles have to be obstacles, they can’t be immaterial or meaningless, they do have to be unnecessary in that you’re not required or incentivised in some particular way that you have to do it, and that’s probably because it removes that final entry in the list, the one I intend to dig into here. It is the consensual overcoming of unnecessary obstacles.

In this definition, if you didn’t consent to playing, it’s not a game. People can’t coerce you into being playful, they can’t make you have fun. This is important to me, especially when I was teaching kids how to play board games, because I needed them to understand they weren’t obligated to play just because I wanted them to. They needed to consent and the second they didn’t want to play the game, boom, they were able to get the hell out of there.

But okay now what is consent?

Don’t think I’m messing with you here, consent is a really challenging concept to get an entirely pure non-social reference for, because it has all these blurry edges about it. Consent broadly defined is an acceptance of a proposal; the game is a proposal, that you will do these things by these rules until such time as this state is reached, and the game concludes. When we talk about consent, though, we recognise that there is a need for consent to be freely given and freely withdrawn. It is not enough that someone consents, we need to know that they were able to not consent for that consent to be meaningful.

It is in this regard that we must ask the question of those people who are, in a capitalist society, playing a game in an attempt to make money that represents an essential instrumental need for their daily life. One example that could fit in this space is the blackjack counter, a person who is definitely playing the game with an advantage, but is doing so still with an uncertain outcome, moment to moment. Similarly, the poker rounder is in many cases playing a game as a job, working day to day to make sure they have enough money to make rent and other bills. In a much more extravagent sense, there’s the potential payout offered to soccer and basketball players, who are playing games in order to make money to have some form of remuneration, which is often so much that the bills and needs of those other players seem very small and unimportant.

Are these people free to not play this game? Are they free to not play the way they want to play? Are they free to remove consent from the game at any time?

In a truly mechanical sense, it seems yes, obviously they are. There are stories of football players refusing to play after a certain point, there are walkouts and there are strikes and there are even caterwailing collapses on the field. They have freedom to stop playing.

But the incentives are there, outside of their lives, that make the idea of them doing that extremely unlikely. There is a need to keep paying rent, to keep paying the bills. It is definitely a desireable thing to have the freedom to stop, it would make the situation of the bad poker player trying to pay their bills with the game a little less dire and depressing seeming. There is a surrounding system of systems, a threat present in all things, that an inadequate interaction with capitalism will result in homelessness, destitution and death, sometimes very swiftly.

There’s something to be said about how capitalism is violent; it abrogates your choices in your life because you have to be able to do things in a way that capitalism can deem acceptable. You don’t get a job because you like jobs you get a job because the alternative to getting a job is starving. The jobs you get then you have to select within the framework of meeting your needs, it’s not enough to go out and be really good at giving flowers to people, you have to sell flowers, you have to in turn, propogate the machine. It’s not really subtle once you know about it. I feel like for some who have this idea well-established, me just bringing this up is a blank paragraph, a well-duh.

It isn’t that violence is absent from other systems, not at all. Violence is something we have to consider in our relationships to reality at large. Anne Bogart describes art as violent; that art, is an act that once done, cannot be undone. For all the possibilities of the universe, the art removes one; the universe before was without that art and now it has that art, and a range of things that could be chosen are now no longer choosable instead. An actor sublimates much of what they are to the will of a director; they must execute on the play correctly (or correctly enough) that the play is executed, and while play is in the name, the director is imposing on the artist. Consensually, of course, and there’s a range of horny ways to see that relationship.

You could crudely summarise this as not only is there no ethnical consumption under capitalism there’s also no such thing as truly free play. That we’re all just making up a thing that works well enough in the shadow of the vast machine that’s going to kill everyone.

Anyway, here to play us out is Jimmy Buffett:

Makin' Music For Money

Watch this video on YouTube

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[ginnyrules27]

These were the words doctors told Damar Hamlin after he asked ‘Did we win?’ 

For those of you who might not be aware/don’t follow football, on Monday Night, in the first quarter of the game between the Buffalo Bills and the Cincinnati Bengals, Damar Hamlin collapsed after a routine tackle against Bengals player Tee Higgins. After countless amounts of CPR, Hamlin was taken to the hospital and the game understandably postponed after both coaches were consulted about the possibility of resuming play. 

Hamlin has been unconscious since Monday and in that time, his charity ChasingM’s has raised over 7 million dollars to help him buy toys for under privileged kids. There’s also been an outpour of support to Tee Higgins who has been coming under fire despite it being a clean tackle (and he was the one getting tackled). Earlier today, Bills quarterback Josh Allen gave Tee some words of encouragement at the press conference he and Bill coach Sean McDermott had. Higgins refused to leave the hospital until he heard Hamlin was okay. 

I know I don’t post a lot about football (mainly because I don’t think people want to hear me ramble lol) but I wanted to post this--because after the rollercoaster of emotions that has been the past few days (from horror at seeing a 24 year old collapse on live TV to sadness at seeing the Bills faces to anger at the NFL possibly giving the number one seed to the Kansas City Chiefs after all the work and sacrifice the Bills made, both team and community) it’s nice to be able to experience joy and relief. 

If you want to donate to Hamlin’s charity, I’ve included the link here: https://www.gofundme.com/f/mxksc-the-chasing-ms-foundation-community-toy-drive. Higgins also has a charity that I’ll include as well: https://axeals.org/. 

On a side note: Bengals fans and team, from a Bills fan, I think you’ll always be honorary Bills after this. Your team could have said ‘no we want to keep playing’ but you didn’t. Joe Burrow led his team into the Bills locker room to offer support, Zac Taylor followed McDermott’s lead on what to do after McDermott allegedly said ‘I need to be at the hospital, we’ll take the forfeit’ and instead they made it so neither team got hit. And the fans have been leading prayer vigils outside the hospital. If the Bills don’t make it to the Superbowl, I’m rooting for the orange and black stripped kitty to go meow once more. 

[ccollick]

I am waking up this morning in the same way I laid down to bed last night: Praying for Damar Hamlin.

Admittedly, I was busy with some computer work last night that the game was not as high of a priority to me to watch. So, of course, I didn't see what happened initially when he collapsed on the football field in Cincinnati. It was only after curiosity got me to the ESPN website minutes later to see that the game was on hold because of this incident.

Like most of you probably did the same thing, my work was set aside as I became glued to the situation at Paycor Stadium, anxiously awaiting and praying for the health and well-being of the stricken Bills safety.

As the events unfolded on ESPN, most of the commentators and sports anchors were trying so hard to find the words to say. Heck, it’s not often that you come to a football game to see something like this happen and you have to set aside your sports commentary schtick and transform into someone like the late, great news anchor Walter Cronkite. I bet all of us, the television personalities included, were in complete shock over what happened to the point where we just had nothing in our vocabulary to describe it.

What struck me, though, were a couple of things that were being said on live television from ESPN NFL analyst--and former NFL safety--Ryan Clark. After going through a serious medical emergency on the football field himself in 2007, Clark provided a clear understanding that we were dealing with the life of a human being and not of a football player. On SportsCenter last night, Clark remarked:  “This is about Damar Hamlin. It was about a young man at 24-year-old living his dream…and now he fights for his life.”

He also made the courageous decision to openly discuss the power of prayer as he had mentioned his own mother was a prayer warrior herself especially during his playing days in the NFL. In a day and age where most mainstream television networks consider the idea of God to be an afterthought, it was clear that most of the television commentators had come to the realization that only God Himself was in control of the situation and that He is ultimately the one to bring healing to Damar Hamlin.

Though some people are still trying to figure out how this game suspension is going to figure in terms of the impending conclusion of the current NFL season, in my own convictions, I think all other football-related matters should be put on hold for now...especially regarding the status of this game--and the season--until we can be assured of the well-being of Damar Hamlin. The game isn’t important right now. A life hangs in the balance. As he remains in critical condition at the UC Medical Center in Cincinnati, may we all continue to pray for him...as well as be praying for his family, his Buffalo teammates and the rest of the NFL brotherhood.

Thanks for listening...and for praying, Chris

[colourmeastonished]

✌️

[starryhyuck]

thin ice. (m)

pairing: icehockeyplayer!mark x figureskater!reader

words: 2.6k+

summary: mark lee is the only thing standing in the way of your team’s victory. therefore, fucking him dumb is the best way to defeat him.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: dom!mark, sub!reader, overstimulation, constant fucking, bathroom sex, talks of car blowjobs, sex on the floor, (slight) breeding kink, creampie, hair pulling

disclaimer: i have no idea how figure skating or ice hockey works, i literally fell on my ass when i tried to step on the ice

Thirty seconds.

Thirty seconds left and the money is all yours. You can see it now — the lavish outfits, brand new skates, and even silk hair ties for when you want to play dress up. Mark Lee just has to miss this shot.

“He’s going to fucking make it,” Doyeon hisses in your ear, chewing on her nails in anticipation.

“Shut up!” You push her away and tell her to stop damaging her fingers.

You watch as Mark glides across the ice, almost knocking into Doyoung twice. “Slam him, slam him!” You screech, ignoring the stares of people around you. You simply want to see Mark get wiped out so glory can be within your reach.

You feel your world collapse when the puck hits the net, time stopping in slow motion as the crowd jumps up in pure bliss. Doyeon’s already crying in your shoulder, and you hear the angry shouts of Chaeyoung on your other side.

Mark Lee, you fucking asshole.

—

Since you were five years old, the ice became your home. And no, you didn’t have an awakening and gain powers like Elsa from Frozen. Your mother discovered how much you loved figure skating, even though your brother, Johnny, was a tall, bumbling mess once he stepped in the rink.

Once your talent was discovered, you were enrolled in figure skating classes and spent most of your afternoons gliding around the ice. You were excited to learn that you could possibly do the sport professionally if you practiced hard enough, but nobody told you how difficult the athletics administration could be.

You were scouted for your college because of your talents in figure skating, many believing you would be a great candidate for the Winter Olympics. However, when you arrived to campus, you learned that you would never be the first priority in the athletics budget.

It was a constant battle between figure skating and ice hockey for the money. Most of the funds went to football and basketball anyways, so you didn’t have much to fight for in the first place. The deal made by the athletics department was simple — if the ice hockey team could not carry themselves to a national championship, the rest of their budget would be distributed to your team.

The victory was within reach until Mark Lee scored the winning goal Friday night, making the ice hockey team one step closer to the national title.

You’re currently waiting for them to finish practice, tapping your foot impatiently as you stand besides the opening to the rink. You finally hear the boys finish up, laughing with one another as they exit. Their eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Ten asks.

You smile. “Nope. Sicheng, we need to talk.”

The captain sighs and follows you until you’re out of earshot. “What is it now?”

You scoff. “You know damn well my team deserves the money more than you do. Worlds is just around the corner and we need the money in order to get there.”

Sicheng laughs at you, still holding his helmet from practice in one hand. “Please. Don’t act like you’re doing this for your team, we both know you’re just wanting to advance for yourself.”

If you could punch Sicheng without facing a lawsuit, your life would be so much easier. You take a step closer to him, ignoring the immediate flush in his cheeks at the proximity.

“I hope your team fails at the next game. I’ll be watching when you do.”

“Stop harassing him.” Mark approaches the scene, pulling his captain’s shoulder and pushing him away from you. “Just face that your team won’t make it. Can’t blame us for your failure.”

You smile sweetly at Mark. He’s been haunted ever since Donghyuck leaked his secret that he used to like you during your freshman year. Mark used to follow you around like a lost puppy, but now, he has no hesitation putting you in place. You know you still have the advantage over him because after all, he can’t deny the way his heart beats when he sees you.

Sicheng observes as you grip onto the fabric of Mark’s uniform, pulling him close until his nose is inches away from yours. Mark gulps at the proximity, not feeling so confident anymore.

“Don’t act like if I dropped to my knees right now, you wouldn’t jump at the chance to stuff my mouth full-”

“Okay!” Sicheng exclaims, pulling the blushing boy to his side. Mark’s cheeks are almost as bright as his uniform. Sicheng glares at you. “We’re going to win on Friday. Then, I’m taking your entire team’s budget.”

You smirk. “Good luck with that.”

—

“I’m not sure this is going to work,” Yeji remarks, watching as Doyeon pulls a tight black dress over your head. You roll your eyes at her comment while Chaeyoung helps you adjust the spaghetti straps of your dress.

“Don’t be so negative,” Seojeong flicks Yeji’s forehead, causing the younger girl to glare at her.

You’re all gathered in Doyeon’s living room, trying to hatch out a plan that Yeji believes is doomed to fail. Tonight was the celebratory party before the game, a dumb idea concocted by Donghyuck on every Thursday night. It goes to show how irresponsible the ice hockey team really is, getting wasted the night before their biggest game. However, tonight works in your favor, because as demonstrated just a few days ago, you still have Mark Lee in your waiting palm. All he needs is a little push away from his teammates and you’ve fully got him. Once the plan is in place, you highly doubt Mark will be able to perform well tomorrow. Considering he’s the team’s best player, taking him down secures a win for the figure skating team.

“Does everyone know their roles?” You check again, eyeing Yeji from her spot on Doyeon’s couch.

She scoffs. “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Chaeyoung nods. “Remember that this isn’t just for us but the future figure skaters for years to come.”

None of you have time to comment on Chaeyoung’s dramatics, already seeing how stressed she is by the way she tugs at her hair frantically trying to apply lip gloss on you. The girls finish getting you all dolled up when Seojeong gets a text.

“Yuta says Mark’s ready,” she announces. You thank the heavens that Yuta was able to get in the ice hockey’s team good graces, none of them expecting the figure skater to be a double agent.

“Let’s get him then,” you grin.

You’re quickly shoved into Yeji’s tiny car and the five of you are off to Donghyuck’s apartment. There’s commotion when you arrive — Sungchan standing on the couch and declaring Sicheng the cutest man alive, Ten giggling with Yangyang by the kitchen counter, Donghyuck’s tongue shoved down a random girl’s throat and Jeno trying to save Mark from choking in the bathroom. Your eyes meet Yuta’s and he winks at you, making sure no one else has seen your arrival. You lean on the doorframe of Donghyuck’s bathroom, smiling at the two of them. Jeno sees you first, urgently patting Mark’s back to save him.

“What’s wrong? Did he see a naked girl or something?”

Mark’s eyes shoot up at the sound of your voice and he gets even more flustered, coughing and choking even more now.

“Why are you here?” Jeno frowns.

You smile and shrug. “To enjoy the show. I can handle Mark from here, Jeno.”

Jeno laughs. “As if I would leave him with you.”

“But Yeji’s waiting in the living room. Are you really going to keep her waiting?”

You smirk at Jeno’s confliction before he finally gives in, leaving Mark and you in the bathroom. You shut the door while Mark recovers, downing a glass of water to help the food go down. “Why are you really here?” He asks once he’s calmed down. He tries not to linger on what you’re wearing, the swell of your breasts tempting him in this close proximity. His gaze flies to the ceiling when your hand wraps around his shoulder, pulling him in closer and letting his fingers rest on your hip.

“What’s wrong, Mark? Scared of a little action?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he hisses. “We’re going to win tomorrow. You can’t stop me.”

You pout. “Is the win really worth it, Mark? Do you want it more than my pussy around your cock?” He grunts lowly, fingers tightening around your waist. You smile. “Or what about your cock shoved down my throat until I can’t breathe? You could easily bend me over the sink and take me any way you want. Doesn’t that sound so much better?”

“Don’t,” he warns you, cord about to snap. “You’re being such a brat.”

He needs one more push. You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Please, Mark? I want your cum inside me. Need it dripping down my thighs so everyone can see who I belong to.”

He breaks, growling as he pushes you against the sink. You giggle when his lips crash into yours, his hands quickly moving to push up the fabric of your dress. He delivers one slap to your clothed clit and you moan at the sensation.

“Fucking annoying whore,” he scoffs at you. “Look at you. So fucking desperate for money that you would drive all the way here just to take my cock like a good girl. That’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to fuck you until you cry?”

You nod frantically, whimpering. “Please please please. I want it so badly.”

He shoves two fingers in your dripping hole and you cry, back arching against the mirror. Mark’s fingers grip your cheeks and he turns you so that you’re looking right at him. You hold his stare when his thumb rubs frantically at your clit, fingers curling inside of you.

“S-So good, so good,” you blubber, eyes rolling back at the pleasure filling your veins.

You whine when he retracts his fingers but he’s quick to drop to his knees, ripping your underwear and flinging it to the side so he has no obstacles in his way. He immediately dives into your pussy, licking and sucking at your folds. You internally curse. You had no idea Mark was this good at eating pussy or you would’ve prepared yourself more. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his lips attach to your clit, abusing the nub by sucking harshly.

The pain throws you into your first orgasm, whimpering loudly as you fall apart around Mark’s tongue. He quickly cleans you up, not missing any of your juices as he licks your pussy clean.

His eyes darken when he stands, taking in the sight of you looking so fucked out on top of the bathroom sink. He’s about to unbuckle his belt before you stop him.

“I want to fuck at your place. Please?”

He nods at your request, helping you get down and adjusting your dress. It’s a little harder to walk since Mark ripped your panties, but you make do. You two exit the bathroom and you’re about to leave before you hear Donghyuck’s voice.

“Where the fuck are you two going?”

You glance at Mark, who’s a little irritated by his teammate’s appearance.

“Mind your own fucking business, Donghyuck.”

You smirk at the blonde boy’s shocked expression as you two leave his apartment. Mark walks fast, fumbling with the keys to his car.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“Trust me, I can’t.”

The drive to his apartment involves two pit stops, the first one happening because you desperately want to give Mark a blowjob and the second one happening because Mark desperately wants to taste you again.

When you finally get to his apartment, the both of you are already a mess. You don’t even make it to the bedroom — Mark shoving you down on his living room rug and pushing his cock deep inside you. You moan at the intrusion and Mark wastes no time, setting up a fast pace and ramming his cock into your sweet spot over and over again. You’re a drooling mess, letting him abuse your pussy. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you upwards. He balances you so that your back is against his chest.

“Such a perfect little slut for me. What would the panel of judges at Worlds say when they see you? The future Olympic gold medalist begging for cock?”

“I would let them see,” you whisper back at him. “Let them know what lengths I would go to just to win that fucking competition.”

You fall apart around his cock again, your orgasms coming faster after the first two. You whine when you hear Mark’s constant grunts filling your ears.

“Cum inside, Mark. Want all of your cum.”

“Yeah? Little whore wants it all? Wants to be bred like a good little bitch?”

You cry. “Yes, yes, yes! I want it so badly.”

That’s all it takes for Mark to shoot ribbons of white inside of you, coating your insides. You both collapse on the floor, exhausted.

A few minutes pass in silence before Mark speaks up. “I’m ready to go again after I eat some ramen.”

You laugh. “Make it two servings and I’ll be ready.”

He eagerly gets up and shuffles to his kitchen. You smirk, searching for your phone and shooting a text to the group chat.

I’ve got him. The money’s all ours.

After eating ramen and chatting for a little bit, Mark takes you again on the barstool of his kitchen. Then, he fucks you up against the wall, on his couch and in his bed.

He’s thoroughly fucked out when you two finish and you smile, leaning over to kiss him.

“Good luck with your game tomorrow.”

You leave him laying in his bed, wondering if he just jeopardized the future of his team.

—

There’s one minute left in the game.

The team is down by one point and they’re all looking at Mark as they huddle together. Donghyuck hisses at him.

“Did she fuck you stupid? We’re going to lose everything because of you!”

Mark shakes his head, trying to compose himself. It’s hard to do so when he spots you in the crowd, smiling at him as if you want him to win. You’ve thoroughly fucked with his head, his thoughts constantly traveling to the image of you beneath him, sobbing as he shoves his thick cock into you mercilessly.

“This is your fault, Jeno!” Ten growls. “You should’ve never left Mark alone with her!”

“Everyone, shut up!” Sicheng bellows, annoyed by his teammates. “We’re going to lose if we don’t focus. What’s wrong with you, Mark?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “I think I do.”

Sicheng glares at the younger male to be quiet. “I don’t care what it is anymore. There’s one minute left and I need you to get it together.”

“I will, I will,” Mark insists, even though he’s not so sure about it himself. They break the huddle and get back into the game, Mark trying to focus as the referee blows the whistle. Jung Jaehyun comes charging at him and Mark tries to dodge.

“Come on, Mark!”

As soon as he hears your voice overpower the audience, he loses his balance and Jaehyun slams him up against the wall. Mark groans when he tumbles to the ground and it isn’t long before he hears the final buzzer echo in the rink. The competing team jumps for joy, laughing with one another as they meet in the middle of the ice. Mark stays on the ground, watching pitifully as his teammates slump in defeat.

His eyes look for yours again in the stands, but you’re already long gone.

[donald4spiderman]

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

-

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

-

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

-

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Tues 15 June ‘21

Venice MP filming is underway, romantic canalside walks and gondola ride are a GO, as seen in pap pics and many (many) videos from fans gathered on site! I’m sure they appreciated all the little sheer polo showing off Harry’s tits, who doesn’t love a good hiddies moment huh? GQ probably did too; they already wrote a whole article about the outfit Harry wore yesterday! But even they can’t say anything better about those shorts than that they look “presentable” LMAO. TAKE THAT corduroy shorts! What about those fans though? Well, they are certainly bringing us plenty of videos- Harry handing co-star David up out of a boat like a sweet gentleman, aww, Harry skipping about between shots, Harry with a lil purse, Harry just trying to live his life and like go eat food when not working, etc etc... maybe folks could take a few steps back? Looks like Harry is really getting hounded through the tiny Venetian streets and on set, by pretty large crowds, to the extent of disrupting filming, oh no. Harry signed a picture for a nearby school-- “stay outrageous”, again dating it (June ‘21) but possibly by the end of the day he was wishing people would not be quite so outrageous.

Meanwhile the antis stuck at home are frothing at the mouth trying to convince larries (or maybe themselves?) that we now ship David and Harry- uh sorry sweaty but having the ability to understand that holding hands for cameras does not have to mean that people are really fucking is actually a pretty major core component of the whole larrie thing?! But good luck with that! It makes sense that seeing Harry acting lovey dovey with someone that they know he isn’t actually sleeping with would throw them in a tizzy though, after all their whole identity is based on denying that’s a thing that’s possible... poor things, baby’s first cognitive dissonance! It can really make you question things huh, and that’s always rough.

But they’re not the only ones with things to say about Harry! Superstar of stage and screen Mandy Patinkin posted video of himself and his wife getting four minutes’ worth of lightning round pop culture trivia questions wrong, but he nails one of em- asked what a Harry song (WS) is about, he remains silent. Well done, that’s just what Harry would have said! And Selma Hayek told a story about Harry coming to her house where her pet owl (who Harry was enthralled with and wanted to hang out with him) regurgitated an owl pellet in his hair! LOL poor Harry; naturally she said he handled it very well and was very sweet. Yes, it’s possible Harry’s interactions with her were because she’s in Marvel’s Eternals; it’s also possible he was at her house because her husband is the head of the company that owns Gucci, or for some other reason entirely.

Liam’s Lonely Bug NFTs went on sale today!! Liam was excited and happy and all over the internet posting and chatting and watching it all happen. The auctions are still open for most of them so final news on that tomorrow! Today was just Liam being hype about it- “Fandom is working its magic thank you!” he said when his request to get LB trending got it up there worldwide in like half an hour, he said more interactive content will be added to the NFTs as time goes on, that Louis cooking was “very funny”, when asked to describe his NFT collection in one word he chose “liberating,” and his hair guy reposted comments Liam has been making in the discord talking about maybe going blond with a “hmmm”. Oooh? He did a long live talking about everything, patching in the other Lonely Bug creators and quite a few other NFT people (enough that at one point Liam jokes that there are enough of them to dress up as the band to satisfy commenters asking for 1D stuff). Anyway one of them compares this NFT to ‘the original Nirvana recordings’ hmmm I mean… that is another thing that is rare I guess yes, but that’s very specific and random sir? “I know for some of you this NFT world is slightly different than what you’re used to from me,” said Liam, “but your support so far has been amazing (as always!)”

And not only that- another new Liam song coming?! We haven’t even got the one yet! (or maybe this is the same one..?) Anyway, school pal S-X (Liam hyped his music a couple weeks ago) talked about him in an interview, saying "Liam is a good friend of mine and we've got stuff coming soon. I don't want to say too much as you know how those One Direction fans get [HEYYYY… oh wait yeah he’s totally right]- when I mention him I can't even open my Twitter. But we've got a song coming and it's a smash. It's sooner than you think and that's all I can say." OH RILLY?? INTERESTING! I was just eyeing him for the artist showcase Liam said he was gonna do on veeps but OKAY! He also said "We're both from Wolverhampton and I was in college with him at the same time, and going from that to global stardom at 17 is not normal for any person. To have toured the world, done stadium tours and everything, he is one of the most famous people in the world. So he will go through scrutiny from the media and whatever, but I can tell you he is one of the nicest people, one of the most genuine people I've ever met. He's a real good friend of mine."

And speaking of unexpected songs; another Zayn demo leak was posted! This time he’s singing You with Ellie Goulding; the song ended up being released by Troye Sivan.

And Anne Marie posted “rehearsals for #OURSONG live! I just love this song so much. I also miss your face @niallhoran” with a picture of them singing away; apparently she’s referring to the recording of the acoustic version which is out on Friday. Niall posted a picture of the Danish football player who collapsed during play the other day giving a thumbs up from the hospital; indeed it is very good to see that he’s all right.

[sleepysnk]

Team Player: Chapter Eight

Pairings: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

A week or two had gone by, and things had been going well for Eren and (Y/N) surprisingly. The two actually were getting along pretty well, they both hung out a lot to help improve on his skills. The improvement was showing and she was satisfied with how much better he was doing compared to the previous weeks. 

Eren and (Y/N) were sitting in the library talking about their project which was due that coming Friday. 

"Does it look good?" Eren asked, leaning over to look at her laptop. 

She leaned back against her chair. "Yeah.. it's coming along nicely. It looks nice with the pictures you added," she said and smiled at him.

Eren looked at her as his smile grew. "Nah really it was all you," he replied, looking at his phone. 

Eren was feeling a lot better about his situation, (Y/N) also helped with his ankle. He was off the wrap and was now able to walk on it without limping, which was a huge gain for him. The pain meds did a pretty good job, as he was now off of them since his ankle was now pretty much healed.

"Hey Eren!" 

His eyes averted up to see Jean walking towards him. (Y/N) stayed focused on the project, she knew Jean since freshman year. He was one of the many people who knew about the whole incident, he took the video. She knew him and Eren were teammates.

"What's up?" Eren asked and nodded. 

Jean leaned against the wall. "Oh nothing I just saw ya and I wanted to say hey. Is that (Y/N)?" he asked, pointing at her. 

Eren looked towards her. "Yeah that's (Y/N), she's my partner for the project." he replied, running his fingers through his hair. 

"Hey (Y/N), I haven't seen you in forever." Jean said, a sly smirk forming onto his face. 

She looked up from her laptop. "Yeah.. it really does feel like forever ago," she replied and rolled her eyes. 

"You know… I forgot how cute you were. I miss being your lab partner sometimes," Jean said, eyeing her hungrily.

Something inside Eren made him want to hit Jean, he was talking to (Y/N) first, not him! Who does he think he is? He didn't like the way he was talking to (Y/N) either, it made anger bubble inside of him. He was never one to get mad, but this felt… different.

"We should hangout sometime you know? I can whip up some good food for you," Jean said and smiled at her. 

Heat rushed onto her cheeks as Jean was speaking to her. "U-Uh.. I don't know Jean," she replied, looking down avoiding his gaze.

He nodded. "C'mon (Y/N)! You're so pretty and I wanna show you how a guy should treat you," he said, leaning down towards her. 

"Jean. She seems clearly uncomfortable, just let it go. Plus I was talking to her first," Eren said, his voice stern and serious. 

Jean looked at him with raised brows. "Huh? Hm.. fine I guess. Just know the offer stands (Y/N)," he said, smirking at her. "See you later Eren," he added and made his way out of the library. 

A relieved sigh came from (Y/N)'s mouth. "Thank you for that Eren.. really," she said and placed her hand on his arm. 

He felt tingles coming from her touch. "U-Uhm.. of course! He just seemed like he was bothering you and I felt like you needed the assistance," he replied, smiling a bit. 

They sat there staring at each other for a few moments, Eren's eyes flickered towards her lips. His mouth slightly watering at the idea of leaning in and kissing her, they looked so soft and plump. 

"Eren?" (Y/N) said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

He shook his head, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. "My bad! What's up?" he asked, nodding his head. 

She giggled a bit at how cute he was. "I gotta head to my next class," she said and began putting her books into her backpack. "It kind of is important too," she added. 

Eren stood up. "Let me walk you to class, I'm gonna head to the practice field anyway." he said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

She smiled and grabbed her backpack. The two exited the library and made their way to the other side of the campus building, the walk wasn't far but it was a pretty reasonable distance. The two chatted about everything that had been going on including the football game Eren was unsure of. (Y/N) assured him that everything would work out. 

"Here we are," she said and stopped at the door of the lecture hall. 

Eren looked down at her. "I hope you have fun in class," he said, chuckling a bit. 

She rolled her eyes playfully, hitting his arm. "Yeah sure! Because anatomy is so fun," she said and giggled. "Let me know what happens if you go to practice, okay?" she added. 

Eren felt a smile form onto his face hearing her laugh, it was so cute to him. 

"Yeah I'll let you know! See you later (Y/N)," he said and waved at her. 

She waved and entered her classroom, the day was now over for Eren. His classes were done and he didn't have much to do, so he decided to make his way towards the locker room. A place he hadn't been for awhile. He missed the way it felt when he walked in after school, his energy was high and it was all he looked forward to. 

He entered the locker room, many eyes bored into his head. Most of his teammates were speaking to him, most of them broke the ice and apologized for acting like idiots. Eren claimed their behavior was valid, considering what happened. 

Many of the players exited and went outside to the practice field. 

"Eren.. funny to see you here,"

He turned his head to see Reiner standing there in his practice uniform. 

"Yeah.. I uh, wanted to talk to coach," he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You see em'?" he asked. 

Reiner sighed. "Yeah, he just went outside. How's your ankle?" he asked and looked down at it. 

Eren leaned against the lockers. "It's actually fully healed, the nurse cleared me and I can actually walk without a limp." he replied. 

The blonde nodded his head. "That's good to hear.. I hope to see you playing again soon," he said and patted his shoulder before exiting the locker room.

Eren made his way outside after Reiner, he felt the cooler air hit against his skin. A shiver went down his spine, he forgot what it felt like to play outside with this weather. He had been indoors so long his body wasn't used to the colder air. 

He spotted the players practicing blocks, throwing balls, or just doing the usual warmups for practice. Something Eren missed dearly. 

Eren's eyes caught the head of his coach, he was looking down at his clipboard, seeming to be going over the plays. His eyes flickered every so often to check on the people warming up. 

"Coach.." Eren said, looking down at the ground.

Coach Smith looked over at him. "Eren? What are you doing here? It's been quite a bit." he asked and nodded his head. 

He sighed. "Yeah it has… I um, I wanted to see how practices were going. My ankle is healed now," he replied, smiling a bit. 

His coach's eyes averted down towards his ankle, noticing it wasn't wrapped up anymore. 

He nodded his head. "I see… I'm happy to hear that really. How has your teamwork skills been working? Do you have any improvement?" he asked, looking over at him. 

Eren leaned against the bleachers. "Yeah! I've been working really hard actually," he replied. "I've done a lot," he added.

"The championship game is this Saturday… you don't have much time. Not having you at the game last week wasn't good," Coach Smith said, his eyes not leaving the players running around. 

Eren's eyes grew wide at his words, the game was already this soon? 

"Wait, it's this early? I thought it'd be later," Eren asked and furrowed his brows. 

His coach looked at him. "It's earlier because we won last week. I hope to see your improvement soon, you have until Friday to prove it to me. If not, you won't play and your offer for the Chief's becomes slim to none." he replied. 

Hearing those words come out of his mouth made Eren's mind race. He had less than 3 days to get ready for the game, that was barely any time! He had to do as much as he could now before then. 

"I won't let you down Coach.. I promise I can prove how much I've changed," Eren said and looked at him with determination.

Coach Smith nodded his head. "Good.. Mr.Zacharius will be there as well. He was quite disappointed hearing what happened the week before, watch it Eren. You need this season," he said.

He totally had forgotten about the scout that came to see him. If Eren messed up one more time all the offers headed his way would be off the table. That's an option he didn't want to come true. 

"I think I'll be able to do it," he replied.

"You think so? Let's see by Friday," Coach Smith replied, looking at him. 

Eren headed back towards the locker room, he had to find (Y/N).

-

Class ended fairly quickly for (Y/N). She was tired after a long day of helping Eren and doing homework assignments, she just wanted to collapse in bed and take a nap. 

She was sitting in her dorm on her laptop, typing away at her essay she had to do. Her roommate Sasha was out and about with her boyfriend Connie so she had some peace and quiet for the whole night. Maybe she could finish up in time?

A sudden banging on the door caused her to jump in her bed. Her heartbeat quickened at the sudden noise. 

Furrowing her brows, she stood up walking slowly towards the door. Did Sasha end up with some mafia? That girl was always full of surprises..

She put her hand on the cold door knob, hesitating a bit to open the door. 

"(Y/N)! Are you here?!" 

She knew that voice. 

It was Eren's.

She let out a sigh of relief as she opened the door to see him standing there. He seemed a bit flushed, like he was running or he was in a rush to come see her. 

"Eren? Jesus.. you scared me! I thought someone was trying to break in," she said, looking up at him. 

His brown hair was messy. "Sorry.. I should have texted. Can I come in?" he asked, nodding his head. 

She moved out of the way so he could enter her dorm. The faint smell of his vanilla cologne coming off his body filled her nose. 

"Are you okay? You seem like you're in a rush," she asked and plopped down on her bed, crossing her legs. 

Eren plopped down next to her. "Yeah I just needed to come find you," he replied, smiling a bit. 

She felt her cheeks becoming warm. "Well what's up? Did something happen?" she asked. 

He chewed his bottom lip. "I went to practice today and uh.. My coach told me I have until Friday to show my improvement. If not all my offers are off the table," he replied, looking down at the floor. 

Her eyes went wide realizing that Friday was a few days away. They barely had any time to prepare. 

"Shit…" she said, leaning against her bed frame. 

"Look if you can't help-"

"No Eren, I can help you. We just need to prepare," she said and looked around the room. Her mind raced with different thoughts or ideas on what to do. 

Eren was a bit surprised at her response. "We can find a way," he said with determination in his voice. 

She bit at the insides of her cheeks. "What if we went to the field, you know the practice fields? You do need some help throwing balls since you haven't been on your feet, and it can be some good practice." she said, nodding her head. 

Eren thought about the idea. It sounded great, plus he could use the extra practice before the game. It would show his coach that he was able to work well with his teammates and he could actually play without his ankle bothering him. 

"That sounds great, when though?" he asked. 

"How about tomorrow or Thursday?" 

He smiled. "Tomorrow would work best.. it gives us more time," he replied, looking up at her. 

She shook her head. "Alright.. um, tomorrow at 7? My classes end early," she said, opening her phone to add a reminder. 

"Sounds like a plan! I got nothing going on so we can for sure meet up," he replied, throwing a thumbs-up her way with a grin on his face. 

Her cheeks warmed at the sight of Eren smiling at her. She couldn't lie that his smile wasn't charming, it always drew her in somehow. 

"Okay great! I can meet you there," she said, looking at him. 

His emerald like eyes lit up with excitement. "Hell yeah! Ugh, (Y/N) you're the best!" he said before hugging her. 

She felt her face heat up as Eren pulled away quickly. "Oh shit! I'm sorry.. I-I didn't even- ugh shit- oh my god i'm sorry," he said, an obvious blush forming onto his cheeks. 

She laughed a bit. "No, don't worry! You're fine.. it was just a little random, that's all." she replied with a reassuring smile. 

He laughed, running his fingers through his brunette locks. "I just.. I don't know you seem huggable," he said, looking down to avoid her gaze. Embarrassment still written all over his face. 

"I like hugs if that helps," she said, giggling a bit. 

He smiled. "You are the best though, I didn't think you'd help me." 

She rolled her eyes as a playful smile formed onto her cheeks. "I'm not all that special. Plus you did let me do the project, so who was I to say no?" she said, leaning against the bed frame. 

The two stared at each other again, Eren's eyes flickering over her lips. There was that tension again, the way the two stared at each other as if they were waiting for one of them to make a move or lean in. 

"I should get going!" Eren said, breaking the silence between them. 

(Y/N) shook her head. "Oh yeah! Totally.. uh, I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. 

He smiled. "Yeah for sure.." he replied before standing up and grabbing his things. 

"Don't forget!" she said and opened the door for him. 

He looked back at her. "I won't.." 

She waved at him before shutting the door to her dorm. She plopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

"Ugh.. Eren, what am I gonna do about you?" she asked herself. 

It's crazy it's almost a week or two ago she despised the boy for everything he did. Now she was hanging out with him, giggling at his jokes, thinking about him. 

What was going on with her? What was Eren doing to her head?

tagging: @ererokii @eremiie @erensapologist @luvrboykento @callmepromise @katsuhera @just-a-little-sad @bell0214 @flam3bird @moomii-hime @thicmitten @ryan249057 @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lunamoonawatcher @chayauwu @sofi-yeager

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.16|Brittana

A/N - Better late than never, am I right? 😅 Sorry for the delay, it has been a struggle to write but thanks for being patient and not spamming me with demands for an update. I must be a glutton for punishment though because I've decided that this final chapter will have two parts now. Here's part one. Enjoy!

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

Despite the pristine shape Brittany keeps herself in, she breathes heavily in the crisp December air. Her lungs feel like they’re growing icicles and she’s struggling to keep her hands from going numb in the frigid temperature. There’s no doubt her nose is as red as Rudolph’s by now and she can barely feel her lips as she calls out play after play, but she persists.

She always persists.

Afterall, this is the last football practice of her high school career. 

It’s an important milestone for her but the couple of hours Coach Beiste added to practice makes it a little harder to enjoy – especially now that the sun sets earlier and the temperature drops faster. But Brittany figures high school football practices are a walk in the park compared to college level, so she goes through the motions as per usual and soaks in the moment while it lasts.

At the sound of Coach Beiste’s whistle, everyone gets set for another play and Brittany readies herself for the snap.

When the ball is hiked, Brittany takes it into her hands and tries to drop back so she can fire downfield. The Titan defense is too aggressive for her new O-Line though and soon the pocket she’s in begins to collapse. Defensive players are coming at her from all angles so she has to duck and dodge. It’s a mad scramble to avoid a sack but there’s nothing more to do than to throw the ball away for an incompletion.

When the play is called dead, there’s some shoving amongst her frustrated linemen but she wedges herself in between the guys, forcing them apart with a firm push. The tension has been growing since last night’s practice, but they can’t fall apart now. There’s too much at stake.

“It’s alright, guys! We’re almost there!” Brittany tries to encourage her team although she’s starting to sense the discouragement, “Keep pushing! We’ll get this.”

“Jackson! Ridley! You have got to step it up,” Coach drills for the tenth time, “Pierce was this close to a sack. You have to offer more protection than that or we’re getting our butts handed to us tomorrow night.”

The replacements for Azimio and Karofsky nod diligently. The two eagerly accepted the challenge when Coach Beiste called upon them to step up after dismissing Azimio and Karofsky. The only problem is that they mostly practiced on defense so protecting the quarterback is new terrain for them.

“This isn’t Carmel’s first rodeo, folks. They’re the defending champs for how many years now? We have to do better than this. I know we can, we wouldn’t have a record like ours if we couldn’t,” Coach continues.

And it’s true. From where the Titans were as a team in the beginning of the season to now is a drastic improvement. Hell, they’re playing better than they ever have! The loss of Azimio and Karofsky was only a minor setback, but the team has faced adversity before and they can do it again.

Besides, they’re better off without them.

“Carmel’s time at the top is over,” Brittany adds as she looks around at her team, “Right, Titans?”

The team starts to hype themselves up again as they cheer on Brittany’s words and the quarterback smiles proudly at the response.

“Alright, let’s run it again and this time hold the line longer than half a second,” Coach instructs, “We know Pierces has wheels, but she shouldn’t have to scramble. Line up!”

The Titans all gravitate back to the line of scrimmage at the Coach’s command and begin again.

With only two practices on offense under the replacements’ belt and the big game just a mere 24 hours away, all Brittany can do now is have faith that they’ll be able to iron out most of the kinks and everything will work out just fine.

It has to.

\\

It’s a restless night’s sleep for Brittany before the big game, but that’s nothing new. She always gets the jitters on game day, but there’s something else that looms over her and she can’t quite decided if it’s good or bad. It lingers throughout her morning run and usual routine of getting ready for the school day. It’s there as she texts Santana good morning and it’s even there when she joins her mom and Pete for breakfast downstairs.

“Nice shirt, Petey!” Brittany compliments before pressing a kiss to the top of her brother’s head.

Pete puffs out his chest and does a cute little flex to show off his custom-made Pierce Power t-shirt in WMHS colors. Brittany starts to mimic him and soon the two are having a flex-off at the kitchen counter.

Whitney can only laugh at the pair as she plates up their banana pancakes. That odd feeling still lingers as they all settle down to eat, but it’s kind of comforting above anything else.

\\

With her car keys in hand, Brittany’s just about to head out the door when she catches a glimmer from the corner of her eye. The morning sun trickles in through the tiny opening left in the living room curtains and falls on a silver picture frame on the fireplace mantle. In the frame is a picture of a young Brittany wearing a football jersey that’s two sizes too big and she’s giving the camera a toothy grin as she holds a football that’s two sizes too big for her tiny hands.

But behind her, supporting the ball in her tiny hands so she doesn’t drop it is her dad and he looks just as proud as he always did to be there to support her. It’s one of Brittany’s favorite pictures of them – the first time she was introduced to football. It wouldn’t be for a couple more years that she’d actually take to the field, but in that picture is where her interest begin.

It wasn’t forced upon her. It wasn’t her dad trying to live vicariously through her. It was just a moment between a father and daughter. A moment that shaped her and encouraged her to be this great athlete, but above all – a great person. If it wasn’t for him, maybe she would’ve never touched a football?

Brittany starts to get a little choked up because he should be here. He should be in those stands tonight cheering louder than anyone else there just like he has done all of her life. He should be with her, looking just as proud as he does in that picture.

She starts to feel that familiar pain in her chest, the slow building anger, because it isn’t fair. Of all the great dads in the world, why did it have to be hers? But then she remembers something her mom told her once after having one of her nightmares.

“He’ll always be with you, Britt. He’s in every pretty sunset and sunrise. He’s there for every game and every one of your touchdowns. You might not be able to see him anymore or hear him, but he’s there. You’ll feel it.”

It’s not until that moment that Brittany begins to realize what that feeling that’s lingered around her all morning might be. It’s the first time she’s really felt it in a long time and she quietly wishes he’d visit more often.

At that, she gives the picture one last smile before heading out the door.

\\

When she arrives to WMHS’ student parking lot, Brittany finds that she has beaten Santana to school for a second morning in a row. She chuckles as she remembers the garbled nonsense Santana had sent in reply to Brittany’s Good Morning text and decides to head inside and wait for Santana by their lockers instead. The girl has been known to show up with just a few minutes left to spare before first bell and Brittany needs a little more time than that to get ready for class.

On the walk to her locker, Brittany is greeted by several students and faculty wishing her luck tonight. She smiles and thanks them like she has grown accustomed to doing over the past few months, although sometimes she still can’t believe they all treat her like some type of celebrity.

She spots some of her teammates in the hall dressed similarly to her in their blue jeans and Game Day jerseys. The only thing Brittany’s missing is her letterman jacket but she can thank the Puck Heads for that.

“Sup Pierce!” Puck calls out before he and Finn bump knuckles with her, “Ready for tonight?”

“Totally,” Brittany responds confidently, “You?”

“Hell yeah!” Puck answers, “Can’t wait to saw right through those guys.”

“Seriously! Wish we got to have the school day off or something,” Finn says, “Like a Titans Skip Day?”

“Dude, genius idea!” Puck replies, “No way I’ll be able to concentrate on stuff today.”

Brittany knows the feeling but she doesn’t say that, “I know, that would be so awesome but no skipping. Coach checks if we’re all in class.”

“Damn,” Finn and Puck grumble in unison.

Brittany only laughs as she continues her walk, “Would be cool though. I’ll catch you later.”

When she gets to her locker, Brittany starts pulling out the books she doesn’t need yet from her book bag in exchange for the ones she’ll need for her first class. She’s trying her hardest to remember what she needs for class, but with the entire school going on and on about this game tonight it’s difficult to focus on much else.

That Titans Skip Day starts to sound really good as she finishes up stuffing her book bag. She only wishes it were a real thing as JBI rounds the corner with his mic and cameraman in tow.

“Good morning, Brittany!” JBI says cheerfully, “Do you have time for a quick interview?”

Brittany’s brows rise, “You’re asking first?”

JBI’s cheerfulness falters slightly, “New policy.”

Brittany looks around the hall for Santana but she still isn’t around so she figures she can throw JBI a bone. It’ll probably be the last interview she’ll have to do anyway and since he asked nicely, she might as well do it.

“Alright then. Shoot.”

“Awesome!” JBI then looks to the camera guy and gestures for him to start filming.

Brittany straightens up and tries to prepare herself for whatever questions might be thrown her way. Surprisingly though, the first three are pretty easy for her to answer. In fact, it starts off as a relatively legit interview void of gossipy comments.

Key words though: starts off.

“What about the loss of Karofsky and Azimio?” JBI questions, “With the change being made just two days out from the big game, are there any regrets?”

Brittany takes a moment before answering, “I’m not going to question the decision my Coach made, so no I don’t have any regrets. I don’t really consider it a loss, it was more of gain. Taking their place are two players who have been on our defense’s practice squad and they’re super excited to show everyone what they’ve got.”

JBI doesn’t seem satisfied with her diplomatic answer and presses further, “How prepared can someone possibly be with only two days of practice? Doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“Well, you can thank Karofsky and Azimio for that,” Brittany replies too quickly, “They were the ones that decided not to carry themselves like they should. Would it have been nice to get a little more practice in with the new guys? Sure, but they were the ones who let this team down, who let me down.”

“So it was a personal matter that got them kicked off the team?” JBI presses.  

Brittany grits her teeth, “If you want to know their story then go ask them for the details.”

JBI backs off with a sigh, “Okay. So with a couple key players out of the way, do you have any concerns about the outcome of tonight’s game?”

“No. We’re going out there to win tonight,” Brittany says confidently, “We’re a resilient bunch of talented players, we can overcome just about anything if we continue to work as a team. Jackson and Ridley should be given more credit because they’re doing fantastic given the short notice.”

“Hopefully that’ll reflect in tonight’s game,” JBI changes gears once he realizes Brittany isn’t going to fall into his trap, “There's also a rumor going around that the entire hockey team has been required to attend the game tonight. Can you confirm this?”

“Is that considered a rumor?” Brittany questions. JBI nods eagerly but Brittany just shrugs, “Well yeah, Coach Beiste found out that they haven’t actually attended a Titans game ever so she figured this would be the best way for them to get over their…feelings towards me and the team. A lot of their aggression comes from ignorance so hopefully tonight we can change that. It's important that we all support each other, we all play for the same school so when we succeed we all do.”

“And if you don't win?” JBI presses, “The last time the Titans competed against Carmel the score was 23 – 7; you guys were demolished. It would be pretty embarrassing now with the Puck Heads there because you’re not losing in front of just one rival, you're doing it in front of two.”

Brittany feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t thought about that before and she finds herself struggling to come up with a quick, diplomatic response.

“Why the hell would you say something like that?”

Brittany turns to the familiar voice and finds Santana walking up with this scowl on her face. The crowds of students quickly get out of her way as she saunters over to the pair. JBI looks like he’s a deer caught in the headlights and Santana thrives on it as the scowl turns devilish.

“What’s the matter with you, huh?” Santana snaps and gives him a little shove out of the way since he was blocking her locker.

“What?” JBI asks innocently. Brittany swears she sees him shiver.

“How about a good luck tonight or you’ve done an amazing job with the team this season?” Santana prompts with faux-excitement before the scowl returns, “God, the shit you spout. No wonder you’re always in a dumpster.”

Brittany stifles a laugh while Santana just shakes her head at him.

“I – I’m not always in a dumpster,” JBI counters but Santana only waves him off as she glances at Brittany. There’s just a hint of a smile there, but it’s enough for the quarterback to find her confidence again.

“Well to answer your question, JBI,” Brittany replies, “If we don’t come out on top tonight, at least we played at all. Right? Have you competed in any Championship games lately? Has anyone at this school besides the Cheerios competed in a Championship?”

JBI’s shoulders sink a little while Santana smiles proudly.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Brittany adds.

“And on that note,” Santana says to him, “Kindly fuck off.”

Once JBI and his friend shuffle away, Santana’s demeanor softens just a little more.

“Sorry I missed you in the parking lot,” Santana apologizes, “I couldn’t find my keys this morning and Quinn was meant to drop off your – “

Santana’s sentence is cut off by Brittany stealing a quick kiss while they’re shielded by their locker doors being open. Santana’s lips are still a little cold from her being outside but it doesn’t last once she has Brittany’s on her. It’s soft and sweet and for a second they forget they’re even at school.

“Mornin’,” Brittany says once she pulls away wearing her infamous mega-watt smile, “How are you?”

Santana blinks at the casual tone and lets out a chuckle, “I’m good now. How are you?”

Brittany looks down the hall where JBI is now trying to interview Puck and Finn. She shakes her head at that and laughs, “Well...it’s a typical day at William McKinley.”

“There’s always something,” Santana chuckles as she starts rummaging through her locker, “How are you feeling about today?”

“I feel good,” Brittany nods, “I feel ready. A bit nervous because there’s a lot riding on this game…”

“You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” Santana assures her with a smile, “You’re the best of the best. Both on the field and off.”

Brittany feels her cheeks pink at the compliment.

“I for one can’t wait to see you play,” Santana adds before sending her a smirk, “I’ve never seen someone look so good in that uniform.”

“Okay,” Brittany blushes, “Stop while you’re ahead or else I might make you miss first bell.”

Santana giggles seductively just as a group of freshman girls walk by them.

“Good luck tonight, Brittany!” One girl says, “You’re an inspiration to us all.”

Brittany gives them an awkward but polite smile, “Thank you.”

They all chatter amongst themselves excitedly as they move on down the hall. Santana looks at them then back to Brittany as a smirk forms.

“I see your fan club is very active today,” She teases.

Brittany rolls her eyes, “They’re excited. It’s the first Championship game for a lot of people here, they’re bound to be a little…enthusiastic. Plus there’s the whole first female QB thing that no one will forget so yeah, they’re active today.”

“Just remember who your real number one fan is,” Santana flirts with a tug to the hem of Brittany’s jersey.

“Who’s that?”

Santana tugs a little harder causing Brittany to come closer as she quirks her brow.

“Right,” Brittany smirks, “I might need more reminding later.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm,” Brittany hums, “I might need help warming up too.”

“I bet you do,” Santana teases as she leans in for a quick kiss, “Luckily, I’m good at doing both.”

“God,” Someone scoffs, “Get a room.”

Santana scowls at the interruption but as she and Brittany pull away they find Quinn standing there smirking. One hand is on her hip while a coat protector dangles from the other.

“I see why you couldn’t wait two more minutes,” Quinn mentions with a chuckle, “Had to go and scar everyone with whatever’s going on here.”

Santana rolls her eyes playfully, “Please, our lips barely even grazed.”

Brittany chuckles at that.

“Besides,” Santana continues, “It was either wait on your ass for who knows how long or see my wonderful, amazing girlfriend. It was a pretty easy decision to make.”

“Yeah yeah,” Quinn jokes as she hands Brittany the hanger, “This is for you, Britt.”

Brittany looks a little confused as she takes it but then she gets a peek of crimson red fabric from the opening of the bag and realizes what it is.

“Hey, it’s my jacket!” Brittany exclaims.

“I rushed the order,” Quinn shrugs as Santana helps Brittany unzip the bag.

“Thank you so much,” Brittany wastes no time putting it on over her jersey. She was never one to walk around in her letterman jacket all the time, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t make her feel a little more complete now.

“Looking good,” Santana winks before adjusting Brittany’s collar.

Brittany blushes before turning back to Quinn, “I really appreciate this, Quinn. Let me know what I owe you so I can pay you back.”

Quinn waves her off, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Brittany asks, “A rush order like this couldn’t have been cheap.”

“It’s fine, really,” Quinn assures her, “Just kill it tonight.”

Brittany only grins, “I can do that.”

\\

And the Titans do kill it…at first.

They hit the ground running and were able to score touchdowns on their first two drives, making the score 14 – 0 within the first five minutes of the game! The quick lead really got the crowd going in favor of the Titans – Brittany was sure she could hear her mom and Pete cheering her on all the way from the stands. Even the Puck Heads looked somewhat interested in the game. She and the team used all that energy and gave each play their all and then some.

For most of the first quarter, the Titans were crushing Carmel on offense and their star quarterback, Jesse St. James, was not happy about that. The guy practically threw a temper tantrum anytime the Titans scored, it was so sad. It’s a surprise the refs hadn’t called any penalties, but with a rivalry like there’s everyone was ready for the tension.

Whenever the Camels would score, the Titans were all too happy to respond with a touchdown of their own. With the amount of touchdown passes Brittany was throwing, she was nearing a record-breaking game and they were still only in the first half.

It was a shoot out up until the ball was picked off of Mike midway in the second quarter which changed the tides in favor of the Camels.

With that small advantage, it was like new life was breathed into Carmel. From then on, it felt like Brittany and the Titans were playing catch up, just hoping to maintain their 14 point lead that the Camels were quickly closing in on.

Unfortunately on the Titans’ next drive, they’re unable to make it into the endzone. The Camels use that to their advantage once again and do what the Titans couldn’t: score.

That brings it to 35 – 28 with the Titans still in the lead but only by a single touchdown.

\\

“Not today, sweetheart!” A Carmel defender taunts in Brittany’s direction after her pass was swatted down. The player jogs alongside her and flexes, “Maybe if you had guns like these you could get through me!”

Brittany does her best to ignore him, but he’s been running his mouth all night and she’s starting to reach her boiling point. She can’t lose her cool though, not tonight, so she just keeps her eyes forward in hopes that he’ll lose interest.

After another failed drive for the Titans offense, Brittany makes her way to the sidelines with her helmet in her hand. She’s given a water bottle and takes a quick drink before wiping the sweat from her face with a towel. Although she’s starting to get a little frustrated, Brittany keeps those feelings to herself as she reaches for the Titans playbook.

“There’s got to be something we haven’t tried,” Brittany mutters to herself as she flips through.

She’s looking for something that Carmel wouldn’t expect from them, something that’ll give the Titans that edge that’s been missing so far. Though it’s still early in the game, it feels like Carmel is starting to play one step ahead of them and Brittany wants to find a way to stop that before it’s too late.

As she flips through the plays, constantly tucking the fallen strands of hair from her ponytail behind her ears, Brittany continues to look for that special play when she hears someone call out to her. Turning to the voice, she finds Santana leaning on the railing behind her.

“Want me to fix that for you?” She asks with a small smirk.

It takes a second for Brittany to realize that she’s talking about her messy ponytail before she’s jogging over to close the distance between them.

Santana’s decked out even more so than usual in school spirited accessories and her Cheerios uniform is as vibrant as ever, but what catches Brittany’s eye is the #12 drawn on Santana’s cheek in red and black marker. She swears that wasn’t there when she saw Santana before the game and it makes her heart melt.

Brittany knows many people have taken a liking to her, to the point where they wear her number to show support but it hits differently when Santana does it – especially since not many people know about them being a couple yet.

“You’re wearing my number,” Brittany points out as she turns her back so that Santana can reach her ponytail. She keeps her eyes trained on the field, hoping their defense doesn’t let Carmel score.

“I am,” Santana says as her fingers delicately pull the hair tie from Brittany’s hair and starts to comb through the strands, “You don’t know how many girls on the squad wanted to wear yours, I couldn’t have that.”

Brittany laughs, “Well I am pretty inspirational.”

“I guess,” Santana teases before getting to work on the braid, “How’s it going out there? It looks like you guys are losing steam. Not getting tired, are you?”

Brittany scoffs playfully, “We’re just getting started but I can see what you mean. Their offense isn’t making it easy for us. They’ve definitely watched film.”

Santana hums again as Brittany gets lost in thought to the feeling of Santana’s fingertips gently scratching at her scalp. She’s been so focused on the game and moving around that she hasn’t noticed how cold it is out. A December winter in Ohio is very different from the ones she’s used to in Florida, but she keeps her hands hidden in her hand warmer.

“We have to score once more before the half, but I think Carmel is starting to pick up on our routes,” Brittany says, “I have to do something different. It can’t be a sneak because I don’t think they’ll let me get away with it for a second time. I can’t risk getting picked off again either because that’s even worse, but what? What won’t they expect?”

“Well,” Santana sighs as her hands move further down Brittany’s hair, “I can’t say I know what most of that means but you got this. If anyone can make something happen, it’s you. It’s still early, maybe you’ll wear them out?”

“Or maybe they’ll just get stronger?” Brittany mumbles her worries.

“You can’t think like that,” Santana tells her as she finishes up and nudges Brittany around, “You’ve turned this team around and gotten them this far. You’re going all the way, babe, I can feel it. Besides, you guys are in way better shape than them; at least, I know you’re definitely in better shape. I can guarantee that one from personal experience.”

Brittany smiles back lovingly and almost laughs when Santana accompanies her compliment with a wink. She’s not used to being the one that needs the pep talk, but she’s glad Santana’s there to offer her one anyway. She didn’t realize how much she needed the reassurance.

It makes those three little words start to float up, but she pushes them away for now. She needs her focus to be on the game.

“Thank you,” Brittany says, “It really means a lot.”

Santana only shrugs although she looks just as smitten.

“And thanks for this too,” Brittany says as she glides over her newly braided hair, “Didn’t know you could French braid.”

“It’s one of my many talents,” Santana jokes, “Also one less thing you have to worry about. I’m sure you’ll figure out the football thing too. Maybe you could have one of the guys throw it to you instead or something? Carmel would never expect that.”

Brittany’s eyes light up, “Oh my God, you’re right.”

“What?”

Brittany gets to thinking out loud, “I’ve got Finn and even Sam. They both have pretty good arms. If I hand it off to one of them instead, I could totally slip through and get open.”

“Wait, seriously?” Santana chuckles disbelievingly “You’re really gonna try that?”

“Duh. It’s a good idea,” Brittany grins confidently, “God, I could just kiss you right n – ”

“Offense! To the field!” Coach yells out, “Where’s Pierce?”

“Shit. I gotta go,” Brittany says before quickly pulling on her helmet and giving Santana a wink, “Wish me luck!”

Santana only waves her pompoms in return as she watches Brittany jog off.

\\

Back out on the field, Brittany gets her guys ready for the first snap. She’s going to try and get them into better field advantage because no way she’s going to attempt to run for 40 yards. She can’t risk getting tackled and potentially injuring herself so that’s where Puckerman comes in handy.

“East 32,” Brittany calls out to her sides; a running play, “East 32!”

She tracks the defense’s movements, keeping her eyes on the linebacker that’s been giving her a hard time all quarter. Thankfully Jackson and Ridley have been doing a great job of protecting her thus far, but all it takes is one wrong move to change that.

“Down!” She says and readies herself for the snap, “HUT!”

The ball is thrust into her hands and she’s quick to get a good hold of it before she’s passing it off to Puck. Brittany hits him square in the chest with it and he automatically wraps the ball in his arms, making this impenetrable cage, before he’s crashing into defenders. Brittany throws a block in order to offer a little more protection, but Puck is only able to go a few yards before he’s brought down.

It’s a clean hit, but someone on the Camels makes a snarky comment and the next thing Brittany’s knows is that Puck’s getting in their face. Matt tries his best to pull him away, but another one of Carmel’s guys shoves at Matt so now everyone’s starting to get scrappy.

“Back off! Get back!” Brittany yells at her guys as the refs start to push players apart, “Come on, guys! Back off!”

With the two teams having years and years of rivalry history under their belts, Brittany was prepared for the emotions to show. She figured it would’ve happened a lot sooner, but she’s grateful that it didn’t. She needs her guys focused on the game, not getting wrapped up in a fight.

“Come on, Puck,” Brittany coaxes as she gets her hand on the Running Back, “Don’t let them get into your head. You’re better than this.”

“That asshole keeps talking shit!” Puck snaps, “I’m getting sick of it.”

“Then shut him up with a play,” She warns him, “You getting caught up in a fight doesn’t help your team. It won’t mean anything if you’re ejected, will it?”

Puck quiets down, “No.”

“Okay, stay focused then,” Brittany says then pats him on the shoulder before gathering her guys for another play.

On their next play, she hands the ball off to Puck again and this time he’s able to break free of his defenders and gets a crucial first down. Now that they’re within good range to try Santana’s idea, Brittany has to call a time out to tell her team about it.

When she does, they all look at her like she’s crazy…at first.

“I like it,” Mike nods, “I think it’ll work. It’s kind of crazy, but they wouldn’t expect it. Plus they’ve been favoring the left so far too, it’ll be good to switch it up.”

“Exactly,” Brittany smirks and looks to the time remaining before half time, “We’re just shy of the two minute mark so if we can get another touchdown in and go for a two point conversion, I think we’ll feel a lot more comfortable in our lead.”

A lot of the guys like the sound of that.

“I’ll take the snap,” Finn offers, “Or hand off? Whatever you want to do, Cap.”

Brittany smiles apologetically, “Actually I was planning on using Sam for this one.”

Sam straightens up at the mention of his name, “Me?”

“Didn’t you want to try out for QB or something?” Brittany replies, “I could use someone with your agility. No offense, Hudson.”

Sam looks over to Finn, everyone does, but surprisingly Finn just nods proudly.

“Whatever it takes to win,” Finn says and gives Sam a pat on the shoulder, “Kill it, dude.”

Sam perks up, “Okay, what do I need to do?”

Brittany goes on to explain what she’s thinking despite Coach Beiste in her ear telling her to do something different. With all do respect to her, Brittany sees an opportunity to shake things up and she can’t play it safe with the play Coach wants her to run instead. She knows that there are recruiters in the crowd watching her and the other players and she’s got to stand out if she wants that scholarship.

She gives one glance over to the sidelines where Santana and the Cheerios anxiously await the next play. They’re all ruffling their pompoms as if they were beating drums but Santana’s hands don’t move quite as fast as everyone else’s, she’s too concerned about the game. Brittany gives her an encouraging nod though before turning back to focus.

When the ball is snapped, Sam grabs for the ball but it’s not a smooth hand off. Thankfully, he’s able to secure it in time to drop back and find Brittany crossing over the line of scrimmage. He hangs in the pocket for as long as he can so that Brittany can get into position but what she doesn’t anticipate is the Carmel Cornerback closing in on her.

It’s a jump ball and Brittany leaps into the air to catch it but as she tries to, the Cornerback makes a high tackle. Brittany’s helmet nearly flies off as she’s brought down hard on her elbow. As soon as she makes contact with the turf, she knows she’s going to get an earful from Coach Beiste.

The ref calls it an incomplete pass, but it could’ve easily been picked off by that defender if they weren’t careful which would’ve been even worse.

“Try again next time, Princess!” The Cornerback laughs in her face before the other defenders join him in celebrating.

She’s slow to get up while Jackson and Ridley rush over to push the defenders away from her. The refs are already calling out the penalty against Carmel for that high hit and giving the Titans a first down, but Brittany can’t enjoy it – her elbow’s bothering her even more as she tries to loosen it up.

“Get over here, Pierce!” Coach yells, “Hudson, you’re in!”

Finn looks warily between the two before getting his helmet on and into the game. Brittany does her best to put on a brave face but as she makes it to the sidelines and the trainer starts to fuss over her, she knows she’s messed up.

“What the hell were you thinking out there?” Coach demands, “You know who you’re playing against? You’re lucky they didn’t break your arm!”

“I’m sorry, Coach, I thought we could catch them off guard,” Brittany replies.

Coach Beiste just shakes her head and looks to the trainer, “How is it?”

“Just some bruising,” The trainer responds, “She’ll be fine.”

Brittany grits her teeth as the trainer wraps an ice pack around her elbow. The cold stings but not as much as Coach Beiste’s disappointment.

Coach hardens her stare, “Hudson will close out the half. You just…go sit over there and keep icing that elbow.”

“Yes Coach,” Brittany replies before making her way over to the bench.

She feels this annoying sting in the corner of her eyes and a little in her throat, but she swallows it back. She was the one who made the decision, she has to pay for the consequences. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less though.

Brittany drops the ice pack to examine her elbow for herself, noticing the redness but she can’t tell if its from the pack or the hit. All she can do is count her lucky ducks that it’s only bruising and not something worse.

“Hey B!” Santana calls out to her again from the other side of the fence. There’s this concerned look on her face as she asks, “You okay?”

Brittany turns and gives her a weak smile and a thumbs up. That doesn’t seem to satisfy Santana though and soon the Co-Captain is making her way around the fence to Brittany’s side.

“You know you can’t keep coming over here, Santana,” Brittany says as her girlfriend starts to look her over, “Coach Beiste is already super pissed at me for that play. I don’t need her pissed about you too.”

“Please,” Santana waves off, “You saw what happened the last time someone tried keeping me away from you while you were hurt?”

“Actually no,” Brittany smirks, “My eyes were closed.”

Santana gives her a look, “Well it wasn’t pretty.”

“I’m kind of surprised you didn’t try running onto the field that time,” Brittany jokes lightly.

“It didn’t look too bad,” Santana teases as she touches Brittany’s elbow.

“Ouch,” Brittany whines and Santana quickly withdraws her hand.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

When Brittany starts to grin, Santana swats her knee.

“Not funny,” Santana chastises before reaching for Brittany’s abandoned ice pack, “You need to keep this on there. It’ll reduce the swelling.”

“I know,” Brittany sighs, “It’s just cold, Doc.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

Brittany gives her a look and Santana gives it right back.

“Don’t be stubborn,” Santana tells her as she gently touches Brittany’s elbow, “Looks sore.”

“A little,” Brittany says softly, “But you know what would make me feel a lot better?”

“What?”

“A sweet lady kiss.”

Santana quirks her brow and tries not to laugh, “A what?”

“You heard me,” Brittany says and taps her lips, “Right here.”

Santana chuckles but she doesn’t make a move as she lowers her eyes to Brittany’s elbow, “You really should be more careful and rest this.”

Brittany’s smile falters at the way Santana evaded the request, “That’s what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t want to over think the topic change, but she can’t help but think of it as just that. They had been going so well for so long, Brittany didn’t think she’d have to experience Santana’s hesitance again.

Santana sighs, “I mean you should – ”

“I know what you meant,” Brittany answers, “Finn’s in for now but I’m finishing the game, Santana. I’ll rest it later. I’m not sitting out any longer than I need to.”

“But Britt – “

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

Santana freezes, her words quickly dying upon hearing Brittany’s question. Of all the progress they’ve made together, she didn’t think she’d see Santana back peddling once again.  

“I – that’s not it,” Santana stammers as her eyes drift to the stands, “There’s just a lot of important people here – scouts and my parents and reporters – and a lot of cameras too.”

Brittany swallows back the lump in her throat and tries to shake off the hurt because that’s the excuse she wants to give? Brittany shakes her head, “Sure yeah. I get it. Appearances are important and what not.”

“Wait Britt,” Santana tries with a hand on Brittany’s knee, “That’s not it at all. I mean it is, but not…I’m not hiding this time, I promise.”

Brittany bites her bottom lip, trying to keep that sinking feeling away. She wants to believe her, but they’ve been out together in public before, even kissed, so what’s different about this time? If anything, Santana should care even less about the audience now after everything they’ve been through.

“I’m trying not feel hurt right now,” Brittany mumbles and it’s barely loud enough for Santana to hear.

“Baby,” Santana sighs in a tone that Brittany isn’t used to. It makes her feel soft and warm. Santana looks up at Brittany with her eyes pretty brown eyes, “I don’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to you too.”

Brittany frowns at that, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want them taking your moment from you,” Santana says, “I don’t want you to get overlooked because the focus is on us sharing a scandalous kiss or however they try to spin it. I rather the focus to be on you and the team and your inevitable win.”

Brittany stays quiet and Santana sighs.

“Maybe I’m being a little over protective here after what happened with me and Dani or dramatic or whatever but I know how this town works,” Santana adds solemnly, “They’ll take your moment like they took mine and I don’t want that for you. You’ve worked too hard for this, Britt.”

Brittany can’t find it in her to feel as hurt as before now that Santana’s explained her reasoning. She just stares back adoringly, “I think things are different this time around.”

“Are they? Just look over there,” Santana gestures to the fence where JBI and his camera friend are filming. Alongside him is another reporter from a sleezy Lima gossip magazine, “Fucking vultures. They already think they’re getting a good show.”

“But we aren’t doing anything?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll make something up.”

Santana flips them off and Brittany’s quick to put her hand down.

“What are you doing?” Brittany chastises, “You just said – “

“If you flip them off they can’t use the pictures,” Santana says, “I saw Kristen Stewart do it.”

Brittany frowns at her logic but doesn’t challenge it.  

“Look, there are eyes and ears everywhere waiting for you to put on a show,” Santana tells her, “Let it be the right kind of show, okay? This is your night.”

Brittany begins to smile as lets Santana’s words sink in. Her heart begs Brittany to say those three little words that keep coming up, but her head speaks first.

“Yeah, okay. Tonight’s my night.”

“Exactly,” Santana replies then teases in a lighter tone, “You and I can make a scene later, once you win this thing.”

Brittany chuckles at that, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Santana tenderly squeezes Brittany’s knee as halftime is called, “I have to go put on a show of my own now. I’ll see you after.”

This time Brittany’s the one left watching as Santana jogs off to join her squad.

\\

“We’ve got them right where we want them and you’re blowing it by not playing smart!” Coach yells at the squad in the locker room. Some of the players begin to show signs of exhaustion, but Coach’s booming voice grabs their attention, “Don’t give your lead away! You’re a better team than them. We know it, they know it so let’s play like it.”

Brittany nods to Coach’s words before she’s being rounded on.

“And you,” Coach shakes her head, “You have one of the best arms out there, kid. You’ve got scouts all over the country with their eye on you. Do you really want to blow all of that by being cocky?”

Brittany stiffens. She didn’t think that’s what she was being by taking a chance, but she knows better than to argue with her coach.

“You’ve got good instincts but think about your team,” Coach Beiste warns, “If you want to do some trick play like that, run it by me first and I’ll give you the okay on whether or not it should actually happen.”

“Yes Coach,” Brittany answers.

“As for the rest of you,” Beiste takes in a deep breath before cracking a proud smile, “As frustrating it is sometimes to watch you all play, you’re doing one hell of a job out there. We expected Carmel to bring the heat but we love playing with fire, don’t we?”

The Titans start to get rowdy at that and Coach’s smile widens.

“Keep at it and we will come out of this on top,” Beiste says, “Play hard, play smart, but most importantly have fun. This is your night, Titans, this is the legacy you’re leaving behind. Make it a good one!”

Brittany feels her chest swell with pride as she nods along to Beiste’s words.

“Alright, we’ve got a little time left so coaches talk to your groups,” Beiste motions for the secondary coaches over while she turns to Brittany, “And you, come talk to me about this trick play you tried pulling. Maybe I can help you iron out the kinks.”

Brittany’s eyes widen but she doesn’t question it and quickly gets to the drawing board.

\\

After the Cheerios’ halftime performance, the Titans come out with guns blazing. Coach Beiste’s locker room speech had the entire team revved up once again. They were more determined than ever to finish out the game on top. Whatever it took, the Titans would do it just so that they could secure the Championship title.

Brittany felt a renewed sense of motivation as well. With Coach’s speech and Santana’s words keeping her focused on the game, she was unstoppable – even if her elbow was still a little tender. If Lima wanted a show, she was going to give them the best damn one they’d ever seen.

Apparently, Carmel had the same idea in mind.

Both teams played hard, both teams played smart, but only one could come out on top. The score had been tied at 49 – 49 for the most part and with just four minutes left in regulation – one of the teams needed to make a play or they’d head into overtime.

Brittany thrived on that kind of pressure. She loves the buzz of energy, the restlessness of the crowd, the determined looks on her teammates’ faces. This is what champions are made of, moments like this where she can really show all the doubters that she can hang with the best of them.

“Alright we’ll do bootleg right,” Brittany calls the play, “Let’s use up some of the clock. Once we score, we don’t want them to have any time to make a play. Okay? Get some yardage and get out of bounds.”

Her teammates nod before they all break to get into formation. Brittany takes her place too but first glances to the sidelines where she sees Santana cheering her on. Behind her is the entire hockey team and Brittany chuckles to herself when she sees they all look pretty invested in the game too.

“Down!” She calls out and her O-Line moves accordingly, “Down…HUT!”

The ball is snapped but the pocket never forms; Jackson and Ridley get overpowered almost instantly so Brittany has to scramble. She’s looking left, she’s looking right but no one’s open. She thinks about throwing it away, but with so little time left on the game clock, she can’t risk getting intercepted.

She has to tuck the ball in and run like hell.

Matt sees Brittany’s in trouble and tries to run along with her to offer some type of protection and with his help, Brittany’s able to cut the corner on her defender. She gets a few yards before she steps out of bounds.

As she slows herself down so she doesn’t collide into any of the photographers there, a Carmel defender gives her an unexpected shove. Brittany tries to soften her fall as she’s pushed into the bystanders she was trying so hard to avoid. She can hear the player trying to taunt her while the ref places the spot of the ball, but she doesn’t bite. Brittany’s teammates yell back at the Carmel defender who laid the late hit thought and question the ref’s lack of penalty.

“Yo Ref!” Matt calls out, “You awake or you’re just going to let them get away with that?”

“I’m saying!” Jackson adds, “How much they paying you?”

“Don’t guys,” Brittany says as she tries getting them to move on, “It’s alright. I’m good.”

Although Brittany agrees with them, the ref motions for the game to continue on. She can see Coach Beiste getting all red in the face at that, but Brittany can only get her guys into position once again.

\\

With just minutes left on the clock, the Titans have to move fast and get out of bounds so they have the time to reset. If it gets to overtime then so be it, but Brittany would rather they wrap the game up now while they have the chance.

“Okay, let’s get in range first before we dazzle them,” Brittany says, “Blue 32 West. Okay? Blue 32 West.”

It’s a play action call so when the ball is snapped, Brittany fakes the hand off to Puck while Mike makes a run for the sideline. Along with Jackson, Puck offers more protection and secures the pocket long enough for Brittany to make a safe throw.

Mike brings it in virtually untouched and is able to get a few extra yards in before he’s tackled out of bounds. The clock stops but Brittany still pushes her team to hustle to their new line of scrimmage.

During the next quick huddle, Brittany tries to rally her guys. They’ve got to make a play now or at least get a new set of downs. They can’t turn the ball over at their current position, that would basically give the win to Carmel. They could try to get within field goal range and bring Kurt and special teams out for an extra 3 points?

But Brittany’s never liked doing the bare minimum to win a game.

What they need is something…unexpected.

“I want to try that trick play again,” Brittany mentions and everyone starts to disagree. She’s quick to quiet them down, “I know, I know. It didn’t work out too well the first time but that’s exactly why we should do it now. They won’t expect us to try it again. Coach worked it out with me during halftime, we just need to get to the 10 yard line.”

A few of the guys still look unsure though.

“Scared QBs don’t make plays,” Brittany tells them, “I’m not scared. Are you?”

There are mumbles of hell no and I ain’t scared.

“Okay then,” Brittany nods and holds out her fist, “Who’s with me?”

“I’m in,” Sam says as he puts his hand on top of hers.

Mike follows suit, “Me too.”

“Like I’ve always said…you’ve got balls, Pierce,” Puck chimes in, “I’m down.”

Everyone else joins and Brittany smiles at how they can all come together as one cohesive unit. They’ve grown so much since she first joined the team!

“Alright, let’s do this!” Brittany cheers.

The Titans run up to their new line of scrimmage with less than a minute left in the regulation, but before Brittany can call the next play, Carmel takes a time out.

Brittany straightens up as the ref blows his whistle to signal the time out.

“Figures,” Brittany sighs as she loosens her chin strap.

They had great momentum going for them, but Carmel’s time out throws them off a little. Everyone’s starting to get a little anxious with so little time left on the clock, but Brittany does her best to keep the Titans focused.

Meanwhile, the Camels look nervous as they glance at the Titans. It’s not too common that they have such a close game like this. They’ve been a well oiled machined for so long, stacking up wins for years but Brittany and the Titans have thrown them for a loop.

All Brittany can do is stare back determinedly.

“Look at them,” Puck jokes, “They’re scared as shit.”

“Should be,” Sam smirks, “They’re about to get their asses handed to them.”

At that, one defender – the one that laid the late hit on Brittany – looks over his shoulder at them and sneers.

“What the hell you looking at, Punk?” Puck challenges.

“Easy,” Brittany warns, “They’re just trying to throw you off. Let’s focus here. Everyone know their routes?”

She goes on to confirm that everyone knows what they’re meant to do for this next play. She feels confident about it this time, because she’s not going to let her team down twice in one night. It’s the last play of the game, the last play of her high school career. There’s no way she’s going to blow it.

“Okay this is it, guys,” Brittany tells her team, “This is what we’ve worked all season for, this moment right here. We know what to do, let’s show them. Let’s shut this game down already! Titans on me, Titans on three. One…two…three!”

Everyone puts their fists up and chants together, “Titans!”

The 30 second time out goes by quickly and soon everyone’s coming together again at the line of scrimmage. It looks like Carmel is going to blitz which would’ve stopped Brittany’s version of the trick play but not with Coach Beiste’s tweaks.

Still, Brittany stays focused. She can’t get too confident just yet. Anything can happen.

“Down!” She calls out before stomping her foot. Sam runs to her left while Puck stays in position on her right, “Hut…HUT!”

The ball is snapped and it’s kind of like a game of hot potato. First it’s in her hands then she smoothly hands it off to Puck. They split off in opposite directions while Puck keeps the ball tucked under his arm until he’s within reaching distance of Sam. The ball is then handed off for a third time as Sam makes a grab for it and quickly gets into a throwing stance.

The Camels are all sorts of confused and in that confusion, Brittany is able to slip through a gap in the defenders where Mike is drawing out his man. With all eyes mostly focused on Sam, Puck and Mike – no ones watching Brittany.

The quarterback runs as fast as she can for the endzone while Matt runs alongside her, offering protection from the Cornerback who is on her tail yet again. This time though, she’s too fast for him and when Sam launches the ball in her direction she’s wide open.

All she has to do now is make the catch.

For a moment, it feels like time stops and everyone goes quiet as the ball sails through the air in a perfect spiral. Brittany keeps her eye on it just like her dad taught her and runs like hell until she is positioned underneath of it.

But the ball is slightly over thrown so Brittany has to reach up high for it. At the last moment, she turns and jumps up, the tips of her cleats scrape the turf as she makes the catch. She hangs on for dear life as the final seconds tick away and game buzzer sounds. She does her best to secure the ball to her chest but the sudden change in momentum has her falling to the ground on her back.

But she lands with the ball still in her arms!

Her breath is caught in her throat but she quickly rolls to her side to find the nearest ref. She’s praying to anyone that’s listening that she has landed in bounds and in the endzone, because if not? That would’ve been the greatest play for nothing.

It’s the longest second in the world and she doesn’t begin to breathe again until she sees both of the ref’s arms shoot up.

“Touchdown!” The ref signals.

The crowd erupts in applause and soon Brittany’s being hoisted in the air by her teammates Santana’s got Coach Sylvester’s megaphone in hand, using it to cheer Brittany on. Even the Puck Heads are whooping and hollering for them but it’s hard for Brittany to hear any one thing. All she hears is the loud roar of the crowd, of her teammates, of the entire town of Lima celebrating the win.

On that cold December night, Brittany led the William McKinley High School Titans to their first Championship victory in over thirty years with a final score of 56 – 49.

A giant orange cooler of Gatorade is being dumped on Coach Beiste and Brittany’s being carried on the shoulders of her teammates while everyone cheers them on. The Titans were the underdogs and they put on a great show and came out on top.

Brittany’s nearly too stunned for words.

The guys eventually put her down in favor of celebrating with their friends and families and significant others who have begun to take to the field and Brittany finds a familiar sense of déjà vu as she watches on.

Just a few weeks ago, she was in this exact place – staring up at the stadium lights wishing that she could have what everyone else does. To love or be loved openly, to share this great moment with someone special just like everyone else. It’s hard not to feel envious because even though she’s surrounded by all of these people and she’s come so far, she’s still never felt so –

“Hey Pierce!”

Brittany’s heart skips a beat because she knows that voice. It’s one she didn’t expect to hear so close by but she turns anyway and finds Santana giving her this smug grin in the sea of people on the field.

It’s such a sense of relief and it gets even better because soon Santana’s jumping into her arms. Brittany surprises herself by how readily she catches her and hoists the girl up. Their smiles are big and bright and then Brittany’s being kissed so deeply and it just about takes her breath away again – so much so in fact that Brittany loses grip of her helmet and it falls forgotten at their feet.

It’s a kiss like that that makes it all worth it in the end. The battles they’ve faced on and off the field, together and on their own, it pales in comparison to this moment right here. Because in this moment, beneath the bright stadium lights, Brittany doesn’t feel so lost anymore.

In fact, she’s never felt so found.  

When they pull away from each other seconds later, Brittany wears this pleased half-smirk and the look makes Santana let out a chuckle. Brittany’s head is swimming in the high of that kiss and the win and she’s still a little dazed but then a flash of a camera makes her quickly remember where they are and more importantly – who’s watching.

She lets down Santana gently as she takes a look around uneasily. Crowds have already started to gather as the two teams form lines to shake hands and congratulate each other, but in amongst the players and coaches and family and friends are the cameras. It makes Brittany feel suddenly protective as she pulls Santana a little closer to her, remembering Santana’s words from earlier.

“You know people are starting to stare, right?” Brittany mentions softly before looking to Santana, “Not that I’m complaining or anything, because I’ve always wanted to do that – especially with you and it was everything that I’ve ever dreamed of – but there are cameras pointed at us and you said earlier that...” Brittany loses track of her thoughts as she looks to the stands and sees Santana’s family alongside her own and her jaw just about drops, “Holy shit, Santana, your dad is over there and he does not look – “

“I love you,” Santana says all in one breath.

Brittany’s swivels back to Santana in an instant, “You…”

Did her ears deceive her? How hard did she fall on that last play? Oh my God, did she hit her head? Is she concussed now? Her lips move but no words come out. Maybe she really is concussed?

“Pierce!” Coach Beiste calls out to her.

Brittany’s lips part before she’s looking to her coach.

“I got someone I want to introduce you to,” Coach tells her as she gestures to a broad-shouldered man wearing an Ohio State cap.

Brittany nods, still just as speechless. She’s caught between her present and her future, but her feet don’t move. She wants to clarify what she heard Santana say. She wants to shout her response from the top stands of the bleachers but she’s so speechless.

“You should go,” Santana tells her, “You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Brittany swallows hard and nods. She doesn’t want Santana to get the wrong idea, but so much is happening all at once and it’s like her voice has stopped working.

“I’ve got to go deal with something too,” Santana adds and looks towards the stands where Hector and Maribel await her, “I don’t think I can run forever so...”

Brittany frowns at her cryptic words and it adds to the list of things she wants to talk about, but Santana’s already saying her goodbyes.

As she turns to walk away, something kickstarts in Brittany and she reaches out to catch Santana by the hand.

“Wait,” Brittany stammers, thankful that she has suddenly found her voice again, “I – I’ll see you at Puck’s later, right?”

Santana glances at her dad and shrugs, “If I’m not grounded for the rest of my life.”

“Pierce!” Coach calls out to her again.

“Coming!” Brittany answers and looks apologetically back at Santana, “I’m sorry I – “

“It’s okay. Go,” Santana gives her hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go, “Great game, B. I always knew you could do it.”

Brittany can only return the weak smile before they’re being drawn to go their separate ways.

[chrisjake-cp]

History 3 Trapped Filming Diary (full English translation) - Days 41-50

Masterpost here. 

I don’t own the book so I can’t post my scans of the pictures that came with it. So I included some other pictures of the scenes that were being filmed. These pics belong to LINE TV or Choco Media, or I’ve taken screenshots from the episodes or the behind-the-scenes.

Read days 41-50 under the cut. 

Day 41

On this day of shooting it happened to be Christmas, and the crew, waiting for the evening shooting process, enjoyed a Christmas gift exchange. Shaofei gave out a book; according to him it was a very inspirational book. A crew member who does hair and make-overs nearby opened it and laughed jokingly: “What kind of ‘inspiration’ do you mean?”, causing Shaofei’s thoughts to immediately go into another direction to the point of him not even being able to say it out loud (I can tell you: he was very bashful!). The whole crew also acknowledged that the most creative gift was a big bunch of green onions⁕ from Sanxing. When this present was opened the whole crew burst out in crazy laughter, but it need also be said that this was a most memorable gift. 

⁕ Sanxing is famous for its spring onions! They even have a little museum dedicated to green onions there. 

Also, what kind of book did Jake gift someone? 👀

Day 42

The day after Christmas, Boss Tang arrived at work, and the first thing he did was accept his gift from the Christmas gift exchange from the day before. So what did Boss Tang receive? 

*ding ding* The answer is 20 Christmas trees and a bottle of “Indian Spiritual Oil”⁕ At the appearance of this gift, everyone nearby immediately laughed loudly, and I also silently expressed my heartfelt wishes for Tang Yi’s and Meng Shaofei’s happiness. 

For today’s scenes, basically the whole ‘world’ had to be there: Unit 3, Tang Yi, A De, Hong Ye, Daoyi and Jingtang were all present, so the set was really lively. What was shot that day were the scenes after Hongye and Shaofei were injured in the parking lot. In order to increase the conflictual character of these scenes, the director assigned each actor their own, individual combination. What was interesting is that during rehearsals, the cameramen all quickly approached the actors like a large quantity of reporters. A De said smiling that the group of people was so large that it looked like an oncoming tank and he could only silently take the ‘card position’⁕ each time. 

⁕ This oil is basically like viagra...but topical instead of taking a pill....It’s a natural plant oil but it contains some anaesthetics which will irritate the skin a bit (making your you-know-what more erect as it grows hot) and the anaesthetics will also cause you to last longer. Ahem. Let’s all imagine Chris receiving this gift. 😂

⁕ The card position comes from a basketball or football game. It means that during the game, when the ball is in the air, the player accurately judges the effective landing point of the ball, takes the lead in the opponent's position, and blocks the opponent out of the best position to gain control. Here it means that Stanley just chose the best position to gain control/the upper hand in the scene. 

Day 43

Today we continued to shoot the hospital scenes. Shaofei said smiling that today was another aptly-named day of “earning money while lying down,” as he was lying down from the first scene in the morning to the last scene in the evening. After several consecutive days of intensive shooting, the hospital scenes were back in Taoyuan. Shaofei said he had been getting out of bed at 4am in the morning for several days in a row, and that day was no exception. So during the moments when he wasn’t in the shots, he could openly but stealthily catch up on some sleep in the bed, which made everyone present pretty envious. 

Zhaozi just gets better the more he acts. Just look at his slightly wrinkled brows.

Day 44

In the last episode, Zhaozi took Tang Yi to see Shaofei [in the hospital] for the last time. Tang Yi, who had carelessly pulled the trigger and accidentally shot Shaofei was already handcuffed. He told Shaofei he would hand He Hang as well as Zhou Guanzhi over to the police. Zhou Guanzhi was the enemy who killed his father. In these past four years, Tang Yi’s biggest goal was to single-handedly murder his father’s killer. For Tang Yi to now agree to let Zhou Guanzhi live and to hand him over to the police, meant Tang Yi had made the ultimate concession.

Because he had persisted in his revenge, he had caused his lover to be hospitalized with a gunshot. Since meeting Tang Yi, Shaofei had been assaulted in big and small ways,  and suffered injuries because of him. Tang Yi discovered that his stubbornly insisting on having his own way was a big factor in Shaofei getting hurt. If this continued, Shaofei would one day be ‘killed’ by Tang Yi. Kept apart by handcuffs, kissing your lover like that; what kind of plot could be more cruel than that?

Tang Yi, even while being handcuffed, was very witty/playful. He didn’t forget to stick his tongue out to the camera. 

Day 45

Long time no see! I believe that people who have watched <Right Or Wrong< should not be too unfamiliar with Dr. Jintang’s “uncle-in-law” Jiang Zhaopeng. He is Qiu Zhiyu whom we haven’t seen for a while. Before filming, these two cultivated their understanding of their lines by videochatting [i.e. they practiced their lines] (and also cultivated the signals between both of their phones). One of the most frightening things in filming is the screen of a cellphone. Apart from this scene, the drama shows many different mobile phone screens; every time a call had to be made, or when a LINE conversation happened, etc. Only, whether or not the signal would be good, is an element that no one can control. If the signal is not good, phone calls won’t go through, or the moment when the phone rings doesn’t match the plot. Sometimes it can take a good number of takes, not to mention that this scene needed a video call. If the signal would not be good, the video and the sound might have been chopped. But we had a close call and the signal in the hospital was very stable, allowing us to be able to smoothly complete the take.  

Zijian, who portrays Jiang Jintang, has a lively and witty personality. He would often say crazy things that amused the crew. In the evening, we filmed that Shaofei followed Tang Yi to the hospital to see Jintang [the massage scene]. Jintang wanted to angrily quarrel with Meng Shaofei, because he didn’t expect them to arrive together. His red face, his hard breathing and his stammering made all the staff on the scene instantly almost collapse from laughter. Even Shaofei, who was doing the scene with him, and Tang Yi, who was lying down behind them, couldn’t keep in their laughter. 

At another rehearsal, Jintang was planning to jump on Tang Yi’s back, but because he hadn’t well coordinated his position, Boss Tang’s knees hit Jintang straight in his ‘important parts’. The staff who were on the scene jokingly told him to jump on the spot, and he actually did it. This was also a ‘pain in the balls.’⁕

⁕ Same expression was used in day 37. It’s more literal here. You can see this happening in the behind-the-scenes. 

Day 46

Today we filmed father and son Chen Wenhao and Tang Yi meeting in front of Lizhen’s grave. The weather at the cemetery site was very unstable. Sometimes an uninterrupted drizzle floated by, and at other times wind and rain became quite strong. Occasionally, the sun would stealthily sneak out from the clouds to join in on the fun, adding many changes to the shooting. But the two actors were not in the slightest affected by these elements. As if their surroundings were all congealed together, the two looked at each other and cried really heart-wrenchingly. Afterwards, Chengyang [Chris] also frankly admitted that for this scene his mood was very complex, and it was very hard on him. Tang Yi stood in front of his biological mother’s tomb, and his biological father, whom he once thought to be her killer, walked up to him. At that moment, that kind of “crying” already wasn't just tears simply shed from sadness anymore. 

When he heard the gunshot as he exited the graveyard without even looking back, Chris said that his heart was really hurting so much that he almost couldn’t go on.

A big thank you to teacher Jiakui, who plays Wenhao, to give [Chris] ample ability, and to push him beyond the limits of what he could do. What is even more special, is that today was, coincidentally, also Chris’ birthday. To shoot such a meaningful scene on his birthday and falling apart crying like that, really must have left a deep impression on him.

Day 47

The day when the entire Unit 3 team got together, happened to be the very last day of 2018. Today’s MVP was Junwei [played by Ethan Liu]. Everyone most likely knows about the meeting between Unit 3 and the international criminal police division where Junwei was tasked with reporting duties. 

That day Junwei was constantly drilling and rehearsing, because all his lines needed to be correctly and fluently spoken for that role to be acted out well. One of the biggest causes for stress is that when you start failing takes, the whole crew and all the actors are just waiting. One can imagine that that is a very big pressure. 

Originally everyone joked and said that before noon they would surely be able to go home to celebrate the New Year, but in the end, it took until in the afternoon for the first scene to finish smoothly and everyone on Unit 3 could begin to plan how they would spend New Year’s Eve. But our poor Captain and Shaofei had to stay behind to continue the next scene. Shaofei felt wronged and said to Zhaozi: “Where is the morality in him [the captain] being so happy?” 

Day 48

Outside it was drizzling, but inside, the room was brimming with nervous energy as Tang Yi took Jack to negotiate with Old Ke, while Shaofei from his side and Unit 3 rushed inside as an important step and wiped out the place.⁕

While waiting for their scenes, each of the Unit 3 were doing their own activities. First Shaofei looked for a quiet place in the room and silently sat reading the script for the future scenes. With his usual style, he would use differently coloured pens to write down dialogue that belongs to Jake and Shaofei.⁕ Zhaozi, in turn, would be lying on the very big bed inside the room, and would both be talking to Junwei, having a pillow fight with Jack and taking selfies with his cellphone. 

And how did Tang Yi spend the time waiting for his next scene? The answer is that he had rolled himself up in a quilt and fell into a deep sleep. No matter if Shaofei would loudly yell, “Where is Tang Yi?” outside the room, Tang Yi slept through it all.

⁕ The very first scenes of the whole show, when Shaofei and his team barges through the door! Some of the very first words we ever hear coming out of Shaofei’s mouth are “Where is Tang Yi?” MY HEART. This show is so well-made. 

⁕ There’s an example of what Jake’s script looked like in the “HIStory 3: Trapped The Making of...” book. ankdlgdndkgn it’s the hospital balcony scene. The thing that he writes in black, between the two red exclamation marks... “This is the show’s first kiss!!! (Vixen Andy doesn’t count).” WHY IS HE SO CUTE? 

Day 49

For shooting the scenes at the exterior of the police station, we borrowed the Xizhi branch police building. That Xizhi branch building which only opened in 2017, is very new and very beautiful. The interior was also very spacious, so we had plenty of room to use.

On that day there happened to be a major traffic incident in that jurisdiction area, and both clerical and field police officers were busy bustling about. Even news reporting vehicles were driving in and out. We were able to witness the police officers' work that we usually don’t have opportunity to see. Thanks to all the protectors of the people for their hard work. 

Today’s Xizhi police station was bustling and lively. Thanks as well to the fans of Director Qingrong who, during the afternoon tea time, came to visit the set and brought snacks like donuts and coffee. In the afternoon the weather turned cold and it started to drizzle. But the fans braved the wind and the rain and came anyway, and even gave handwritten cards to the actors and the director, which was really sweet.

Day 50

Day 2 at the police station. Today’s weather was nothing like yesterday’s “sunny and cloudy with an occasional shower”. Today the sun was shining very brightly, and the temperatures soared straight to 30 degrees. It was the perfect weather to play a song called “I love summer.” 

We shot the scene where three members of Unit 3 talked with Jack at the door. They had to walk outside from inside the police station and each time they had to redo the take, everyone went back into the building with a look of total unwillingness. They opened their eyes widely and took a very deep breath, and with a blank look in their eyes they wiped their sweat and used a small fan to keep cool. Phew, foreheads were filled with beads of sweat, and everyone’s clothes were also soaked with sweat.

In the afternoon we filmed the scene from the last episode when Boss Tang goes to the police station to wait for Shaofei to get off work, when Jack also happened to ride his motorbike to pick up Zhaozi from work.  At that time, the weather was still very sunny. Boss Tang, who wanted to sit on his car’s hood to wait for Shaofei, suddenly yelled out. Apparently the vicious sun had rendered the hood burning hot, which made boss Tang jump up in sudden fright.

[ohsnapcracklepopfriends]

To be named GGMU fic: Part two - A Derby to be Forgotten

Here it is my dear friends. This fic still feels blasphemous to write but I'm doing it anyway. I'm getting on a plane in four hours and I'm scared out of my mind but I finished this part so everything's fine! Here's part one if you haven't read it!

Jamie slammed his phone down on the table of the bar as he collapsed into the booth opposite his oldest friend. He let his head drop and it slammed, with more force than Jamie expected, into the table. Fuck. It had been such a long day. Jamie couldn’t even bring himself to lift his head up out of the indent he was sure his skull made on the table. He felt a bony finger jab the sore muscles of his shoulder.

“Jamie,” another jab, “Jamie, mate. You alright?” Jamie groaned and lifted his head slightly to peek at Stevie. Jamie didn’t know why Stevie would even ask him that question when he so clearly knew the answer. When Jamie saw the dazed, twitchy, beer-soaked look in his eyes, he found his explanation.

“Course I’m not fucking alright. Everything sucks. I hate football. I hate United. I hate Manchester. I hate television--” Jamie felt drunk and he’d only had one, two, three--oh, definitely too many pints. Jamie couldn’t blame himself for the nightmarish morning he would surely have. No, he was driven to drink. For starters, there were few things Jamie liked less than losing. When you retire, watching your team lose gets so much worse, because that’s all you can do: watch. There’s nothing you can do to turn things around, to steer things in the right direction; you have to watch as the team you love more than the air you breathe goes down in flames. Looking over at Stevie, Jamie thought he too was having trouble adjusting to his new role: that of a fan, not a player.

To make matters worse, it was the Northwest Derby. Jamie hated Northwest Derbies: he hated them to the very core of his being. Sure there’s a thrill to it: the chance to beat your bitter rivals is inviting, but it never seemed to work out that way for Jamie. It certainly didn’t pan out that way in his playing days that often. Northwest Derbies were a reminder of broken ribs, harsh words, own goals, and most of all the bitter sting of defeat. And despite all of that, he would’ve chosen to be a player losing again over a day like this one.

Jamie was in an unfortunate situation. He found himself somehow entirely smitten with his obnoxiously unprofessional, Mancunian, united-till-I-die co-pundit. Gary had apparently thought it was a great idea to do victory laps around the studio right before they went on air. When they went live Gary was sat across from him at the table, a smug smirk on his face and panting slightly. Jamie tried not to think about that night, that first night that Gary had burst into his hotel room, but ultimately failed. He could almost feel Gary’s hot breath whispering across his nose and cheeks as they embraced. He could almost taste the sweet, artificial fruit of Gary’s mouth when he pulled Jamie into a closet for a pre-match snog: it was a great way to release some energy. Jamie spent the rest of the show stumbling along as he tried to get the image of Gary flustered, panting, and thoroughly kissed out of his brain.

On top of all of that catastrophe, Gary managed to make things worse in the dressing room after. He practically floated into the room, something Jamie would have found attractive if he hadn’t known the context. If Jamie was honest with himself he found it attractive even in context but in the way that made Jamie want to pull his hair and push him to his knees rather than wrap him in his arms and kiss him. He hummed softly across the dressing room as he unbuttoned his shirt, doing Jamie’s job for him.

“Glory Glory Man United,” Gary sang just once to make sure Jamie knew before he went back to humming. Not that it would have been easy to ignore otherwise. He looked over at Gary expecting to see him searching for Jamie’s reaction: Jamie wanted to show his neutral face, to let Gary know he couldn’t be manipulated. Except that he could, so, so easily. Gary was looking at him for a reaction as expected. Jamie did not expect Gary to be wearing an old United shirt, Neville proudly written on the back. Yet another reminder to Jamie that the man he had not chosen but had come anyway to love (yes he said it, Gary might have been in denial but Jamie Carragher was not an idiot or a coward) was so different from himself in the ways that matter both the most and the least.

“What’d Neville do this time, mate?” Even Drunk Stevie seemed to know how smitten Jamie was and Drunk Stevie was an idiot. Jamie had videos on his phone to categorically prove that. Jamie loved one in particular of Drunk Stevie trying to strip off his shirt, instead getting the fabric stuck around his head and laughing so hard he fell into a lamp post. But that's another story. Jamie took another sip from his beer. Given the amount of beer left in his pint, it seemed that he’d taken a lot of sips while lost in thought.

“He won’t stop singing that fucking song, Stevie. It makes me want to throw him off a bridge every time.” Stevie nodded solemnly. Jamie appreciated Stevie’s humouring him and decided to continue. It wasn’t like he had many other outlets he could rant to about his infuriating, Mancunian coworker. “He’s such a stubborn idiot, Stevie. I mean, God, he’s so dense. We fucking fuck every other fucking day and every time he fucking comes up with some fucking shit excuse and fucking runs out like a fucking coward. He’s fucking stubborn that’s what he is. He’s so stubborn. It’s against his fucking principle or something to hang out with a fucking scouser. Mate! He wouldn’t eat the fucking cereal, Stevie! I bought fucking Weetabix--Weetabix! I bought it just for him and he doesn’t have the fucking decency to fucking stick around to fucking eat it!” Jamie gasped for breath as he finished his sentences and chased his breath with a large gulp of beer. Stevie grabbed his hand and pulled the pint out of his now loose fingers.

“Think we should call it a night, eh, Carra?” Stevie went to get up and slid down into the booth further. “I think I’ll call Alex.” Jamie grunted. Even in his swirly, tired mind, it seemed like a good idea. Jamie melted down onto the table and for the second time on the night, his cheek was smushed against the cold wood.

“I just love ‘im, Stevie. I don’t want to. I just do. I love him sooooooo much,” Jamie was really slurring by now. Jamie’s head was spinning and there was a dull throbbing pain in the centre of his skull. They definitely needed to call it a night. Preferably an hour ago, maybe longer.

The next thing Jamie knew he was in the back of a car with his head resting in Stevie’s lap. Stevie looked down at him and ran his fingers through Jamie’s short hair comfortingly. Jamie thought Stevie’s breath didn’t smell nearly as good as Gary’s did.

“I just love ‘im,” Jamie murmured once again. He didn’t even mean to this time; the words just came out. When they left his mouth the words blended together into one mush of a word but Stevie still seemed to understand him. Stevie always understood him.

“I know, mate,” Stevie said, softly, “it’s okay.” And as long as Stevie said so, it was.

[calacuspr]

PR lessons from the European Super League announcement

Fans were allowed back to watch football in person for the first time this year at the weekend when the FA Cup semi-finals took place at Wembley Stadium.

In normal times, that would be something to celebrate and a key story dominating the sports headlines.

But when news broke on social media of the breakaway European Super League (ESL), fans and media alike could talk of nothing else.

Clearly some senior sports news journalists had been briefed, based on the accuracy of the financial information that they shared.

Many of the revelations, which were subsequently confirmed, suggested a tone deafness on the part of those clubs involved, some of whom have instigated redundancies, player pay cuts and even applied for staff furlough grants from the UK government, while millions have struggled during the pandemic.

The story also showed serious communications errors by the organisers and lessons that all sports organisations can learn from when it comes to issues and crises.

TIMING

The news of the proposed European Super League broke on Sunday afternoon but it was not for some hours until the official statement was released to the public.

This gave plenty of time for the news to be digested by media, fans and players alike, who almost universally expressed outrage and fury at the perceived greed and senselessness of the proposals.

Governing bodies, fan groups and politicians were united in their anger and opposition.

A plan should have been in place to ensure that a comprehensive statement was made available at a pre-agreed time to put the ESL’s views across at the point when the story was expected to break.

As it was, the official release was published late at night, ignoring one of the basic tenets of PR that you don’t leave others to fill the void with negativity when controversial developments take place.

NARRATIVE

Whether fans like to admit it or not, they love to see the top stars of world football playing for or against their team.

In the past week, seeing Neymar and Kylian Mbappe going toe-to toe with the might of Bayern Munich’s array of stars, for instance, provided a mouth-watering and engrossing tie that had everyone salivating at its spectacle.

But the Covid-19 pandemic has seen clubs lose tens if not hundreds of millions in lost revenue from ticketing, merchandise and food and beverage which have presented all sorts of financial challenges for clubs, particularly at the top of the game where salaries are sky high.

While some of this could be recovered once fans are allowed back into stadia, UEFA’s own new Champions League proposals appeared not to have convinced the 12 ESL clubs enough to gain their support when it came to it.

The initial ESL statement included: “The formation of the Super League comes at a time when the global pandemic has accelerated the instability in the existing European football economic model.

“The pandemic has shown that a strategic vision and a sustainable commercial approach are required to enhance value and support for the benefit of the entire European football pyramid.”

Given the parlous financial situation most clubs find themselves in, particularly the giants in Spain and Italy, claims that this is motivated by anything other than money lack credibility.

Florentino Pérez admitted as much when he finally spoke to a Spanish news organisation more than 24 hours after the story first broke, citing the need to recover lost earnings caused by the pandemic.

The ESL did not focus on the challenges facing the clubs and the reasons why the UEFA proposals did not make sense.

In doing so, they handed the moral high ground to their critics and rivals who themselves have not always taken into account the views of fans, players or clubs when making their decisions.

LEADERSHIP

The ESL statement quoted just three ESL executives, Real Madrid’s Florentino Pérez, Manchester United’s Joel Glazer and Andrea Agnelli, Chairman of Juventus.

When the press release was published on each club’s website, there were no individual quotes from executives of those clubs (even if they were not included in the original statement) with the curiosity of United’s Glazer even quoted on the website of arch-rivals Liverpool and Manchester City, something that would previously have been considered unthinkable.

With such considerable financial backing, why were the executives of each club not guided on the key messaging so that they could engage with fans and media who are interested in their specific perspectives the day after the announcement?

If their executives really believe in the proposals they are seeking to implement, why not have the confidence to put the ESL case forward in person?

With no Video News Release or interview opportunities – remember that Zoom has been used in these socially-distanced times to great effect – the organisation gave the impression of arrogance and hiding behind its corporate backers at a time when the clubs’ fans are confused, angry and in need of direct engagement.

ENGAGEMENT

Talking of engagement, the late, great Sir Matt Busby, who led Manchester United to the title and European Cup as it then was, once said “Football is nothing without fans.”

What the Covid-19 pandemic has confirmed is that football’s global appeal has not waned in empty stadia, despite the clear lack of atmosphere without fans cheering on their heroes.

The scheduling of matches over the past few years has made the loyal, died-in-the-wool match-going fans feel disengaged and ignored, with long journeys at inconvenient times required to accommodate television schedules in lucrative overseas markets.

Is it any wonder that in his statement, Perez said: “Football is the only global sport in the world, with more than four billion fans.” Hardly a ringing endorsement of those in Madrid who live and breathe their club and undermining his later comments that audiences were falling.

While football tourists make up an increasing number of those who attend matches in person, clubs used to rely on a loyal, mainly local fanbase, whose traditions and rituals are the fabric of the atmosphere and intensity which makes top level football such a spectacle.

Granted, fans have never been an integral part of the decision-making process for clubs and football administrators, but so many of the leaders of the ESL clubs rarely, if ever, give media interviews or talk directly to the stakeholders who should matter most.

No wonder the scenes at Chelsea’s Stamford Bridge were so dramatic, with former goalkeeper and now Technical Director Petr Cech having to plead with fans who were peacefully protesting and blocking the route for team coaches to enter the stadium car park.

The fact that fans from each of the six English clubs came together in a combined effort to thwart the ESL plans and even hold a Zoom call with UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson showed the depth of feeling and the importance fans have in the game.

Coaches of the English ESL clubs claimed not to have known anything about the plans until they were revealed at the weekend. Liverpool coach Jurgen Klopp, forced to speak ahead of the Leeds United game when his club’s owners had not yet faced the media, said: “People are not happy with it, I can understand it. I can't say a lot more because we were not involved in the process - not the players, not me - we didn't know about it. We will have to wait how it develops.”

What of the players? Threatened with the prospect of being excluded from international competitions, how would they feel about these developments that they have had no opportunity to discuss before they were seemingly confirmed?

Liverpool captain Jordan Henderson reportedly led a captains’ call before a co-ordinated campaign by him and his team-mates to express their displeasure on social media.

Liverpool sponsor Tribus pulled out of their deal before the ESL project collapsed. Time will tell how other club sponsors feel given the negative feedback towards their partners.

VISION

Football is all about entertainment, rivalry, and the jeopardy that can see a club win a trophy and be relegated in quick succession.

There is an argument that top clubs playing against top clubs in a closed format without relegation may lose its novelty, but even without engagement, the initial communications did nothing to excite and inspire the fans who loyally follow their teams home and away.

At a time when the football family should be working together to support all levels of the game from grassroots to elite level, these developments showed how little club owners care about their traditional fanbase.

The prospect of shorter games and other rule changes to suit a younger audience whose attention spans are supposedly limited added to the uproar and underlined the lack of understanding of the fundamentals that make football great.

As Adam Crafton, from The Athletic, put it: “It’s amazing. I just spent 48 hours thinking ‘surely there’s more to this? Surely they have a plan to articulate the vision?’ And then you realise, there really isn’t.”

It has been said that football clubs have been brands for some time, and if you subscribe to that train of thought, how much damage has been done to those brands and how will they recover?

***

When clubs started pulling out of the ESL on Tuesday evening, it did not take long for more to follow and forced the ESL to make a second, late statement which was so rushed, it did not even go out on headed notepaper.

Tellingly, almost 24 hours later, the ESL had not been updated to include the latest developments.

The ESL debacle raises further questions about the importance of club owners as custodians of these great institutions rather than simply using them as income-generating playthings with no consideration for culture and tradition.

While there has been widespread criticism and this has continued to be handled poorly from a communications perspective, too many organisations have been sleep walking to the point where this has now happened.

And as a result of that apathy, football’s reputation has been tarnished and it will take a long time to repair it.

[lgbtkendricks]

snowed in [veronica sawyer x heather chandler]

Veronica Sawyer x Heather Chandler

“God, this is some serious bullshit.” Duke groaned collapsing onto Veronica’s locker with a deep frown etched into her features.

“Heather. Off.” Heather snapped bitingly, glaring as Duke immediately stood up straighter and moved.

“Sorry, Heather.”

Veronica shrugged in a nonchalant manner, a small attempt to show Duke that she didn’t mind, looking between the Heathers as she opened her locker slowly and carefully picked up a striped scarf she usually wore whilst walking to and from school.

“Veronica.” Heather scoffed. “I don’t think JDreamy is going to take much notice of you if you’re dressed like a frumpy elf in a stupid blue suit.”

Veronica eyed her as carefully as she had pried her locker open and made a small face. She couldn’t care less about what JD thought, but regardless, she spoke calculatingly “I’m pretty cold. The school’s heating isn’t working.”

“As cold as his dick will be if he sees you in that.” Heather huffed, rolling her eyes as she snatched the scarf out of Veronica’s hands and threw it back into her locker.

“How very.” Veronica sighed, visibly shivering. “Aren’t you guys cold?”

“I’m used to it.” McNamara shrugged. “What I’m not used to is having to spend all night in this dump with a bunch of low-lives.”

“It won’t be that bad. Like a slumber party.” Veronica said lightly, wrapping her arms around herself.

Duke scoffed. “A slumber party for rats.”

“Where are we supposed to sleep? Do they expect us to starve??”

“Ms Fleming said-“

“Ms Fleming doesn’t know left to right.” Heather clenched her jaw.

“Well, she said we have to sleep in our homerooms.” Veronica shrugged. “At least we’re not stuck out there.”

“Are you kidding me?” Duke’s head turned sharply to the other brunette. “I’d rather freeze than share a room with Kurt and Ram all night. In fact, I’d rather be poor than share a room with Kurt and Ram all night.”

Veronica narrowed one eye slightly. “You should think about your priorities.”

“Freezing, poor – same difference.” McNamara waved Veronica’s point off.

“Everybody shut the fuck up.”

Hands on hips, Heather’s eyes practically burned a hole into the lockers in front of her as she thought. The other Heathers waited patiently with their eyes cast down at the grubby floor below. Veronica, however, took the rare moment of Heather being unaware of her surroundings to study this fairly new expression. She followed the gentle crease in between her perfectly manicured brows to her remarkably concentrated emerald orbs and the complete lack of blemishes underneath. Her cheeks were ever so slightly rosy, and it made Veronica smirk as she knew this was going to be the first and last time she’d ever see Heather Chandler look as genuinely cute as she did right now. Grumpy but just as affected by the situation as everyone else, she was adorable. Veronica travelled down to Heather’s pursed lips, red as ever. Her smirk fell as she inwardly sighed and reminded herself to get a fucking grip. This crush was getting far too out of hand, now. Ridiculously so.

Veronica started as Heather suddenly strutted off, enforcing a parting not dissimilar to that of the red sea down the hall. The other three girls gaped at her retreating figure for a moment, until Heather screamed without pausing in her tracks:

“What are you three fucktarts doing?? Hurry. Up.”

Duke and McNamara scurried after her immediately, spewing apologies. Chuckling to herself, Veronica too stalked off to follow the Heathers. They walked until they reached the gym doors leading to the football field.

“Heather?” Duke asked, confused. “What are we doing here?”

“Christ, Heather. I told you to shut the fuck up, did I not?” Heather huffed. “Wait here.”

Veronica and the other Heathers stood near the bleachers as they watched Heather go through to the changing areas. She disappeared behind bright red doors.

“I had a date tonight, you know.” Duke sighed, throwing her head back once more.

“Yeah, well…”

Duke eyed Veronica. “Well what?”

“It’s snowing.”

“Yeah. No shit, Veronica.”

“I had a game to cheer at tomorrow.” McNamara said, looking longingly out at the white abyss.

“Attention, Westerburg High. Dinner will be served at six pm.” The intercom sounded, making all three of them look up.

“That’s hours away.” Whined McNamara.

“Good.” Duke mumbled under her breath.

Before Veronica and McNamara could remind Duke about seeing a doctor for the third time that day, they heard a loud bang. Immediately, the three of them turned to see Heather smirking, strutting over to the doors and twirling a set of keys in her fingers.

“What are you doing with that?” Duke asked, taking a few steps closer.

“We’re slumming in luxury.”

“Sort of defeats the purpose of the word ‘slum’, but okay.” Veronica said, half-smiling at the blonde. Heather only smirked at her, unlocking the doors. She opened them up, letting the harsh winds into the gym.

“I’m shivering now, Jesus.” McNamara said, stepping away from the coldness.

“We’re not going far, Heather, man up.”

“Where are we going?” Veronica asked.

Heather only looked at her for a moment, before smirking slightly once more and stepping outside. “It’ll be…merry.”

The other two Heathers shared a knowing look. Veronica raised a single brow at them, following Heather out into the cold. “Colour me stoked.” Veronica said softly, squinting through the heavy snowfall and carefully following the taller girl.

Heather walked along the pitch, until she reached a door leading into the guys’ changing rooms. She unlocked it and stepped in, lightly dumping the snow off her heels. Veronica did the same, as did the Heathers who had reluctantly followed them, and she walked over to a little trap door amongst the floorboards and unlocked it with a small iron key.

“After you.” Heather told Veronica clearly.

Veronica looks at her for a long moment. “Heather.”

“Veronica.”

“What’s down there?”

“Why now, telling would only ruin the surprise.” Heather spoke with a glint in her eyes. Whilst Veronica couldn’t decipher what that glint honestly meant, it didn’t exactly pronounce a feeling of excitement within her – dread was more like it.

“Of course it would.” Veronica muttered, taking one last look at the Heathers before taking a deep breath and carefully treading down the steps.

It was pitch black when she reached touchdown, and she was standing on what felt like carpet. More intrigued now than anything else, Veronica stepped aside as she heard the Heathers walking down the steps too. One of them – Veronica couldn’t make out which – felt along the wall before audibly flicking a switch. Veronica blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light, before looking around at the room. It was a lair of sorts – a cabin-style living area with red sofas and armchairs, with a white coffee table in the middle and dark wooden walls. There were poker chips and cards atop the table (‘typical’ Veronica rolled her eyes) and a sizeable mini fridge.

“How do you even know about this place?” Veronica asked, walking over to a loveseat and carefully sitting down. Her eyes bulged as she leant back into the immediate comfort “Holy shit. This is nice.”

“The boys usually hang out in here after a game.” Heather said vaguely, stalking over to the fridge and pulling out a few bottles of soda.

“Sometimes they invite the cheerleaders too,” McNamara explained. “But, you know. I’m head cheerleader so…all three of us go.”

“This is what the school spend their salary on? Isn’t that…completely ridiculous?” Veronica scoffed.

Heather groaned and rolled her eyes, slamming the sodas onto the table and picking up a deck of cards. “Be grateful or get out, Veronica, it’s not that hard.”

“Right.”

Across the next couple of hours, Veronica sat and played card games and poker with the Heathers. It was an odd way of passing time during a snowstorm to say the least, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. The funny thing was, with absolutely nobody around to impress or scare, the Heathers evolved into being fairly normal. Well, perhaps normal was still a stretch, but nobody was particularly horrid or bitingly annoying for the most part. In all honesty, Veronica found it pretty entertaining. Fun, in fact. The Heathers were fun. Heather Duke was – unsurprisingly – incredibly competitive, and it left the other three of them laughing at her serious attempts to justify her losing and rolling their eyes at her gloating whenever she did end up winning. Heather McNamara was the one who, after snooping around the room for a while, turned on the heating and found a cassette player alongside a fairly large stash of cassettes; watching her fairly interpretive dances once she was out in poker was hilarious. And, of course, then there was Heather Chandler. She seemed a little more relaxed, just as controlling but certainly happier. She cheated at as many card games as possible and would half-jokingly sneer at the others when she was found out. She even literally let her hair down, leaving her scrunchie on the coffee table as she and Duke competed to be the reigning champion of poker. With McNamara on Duke’s team and Veronica on Heather’s, she was able to sit right next to her and look over her shoulder at her cards, sharing victorious and cunning glances every now and then. The entire time, Veronica hid her shortness of breath surprisingly well. She didn’t usually get like this, in fact, no: she never got like this. It was just…Heather Chandler was absolutely beautiful. Especially when she let her hair down and smirked and laughed and sighed and bit the corner of her bottom lip in concentration and fluttered her lashes as she counted her chips and glared daringly at Duke from across the table. Especially then.

Eventually, 6pm rolled around, and Heather stacked her chip winnings up neatly on the table and tied her hair back up.

“Heather and Heather, go to the cafeteria and get dinner.” She told her friends, watching as they both stood up and moved to climb the stairs. “And if it’s shit, don’t let me starve!”

Veronica chuckled lightly and sat back against the sofa. She was surprised that she hadn’t been sent to go with the other Heathers but she didn’t dwell on it, too content to care.

“You know, Veronica, you’re not awful company.” Heather said in an almost sultry tone, angling her body to face the brunette’s.

Veronica blushed, looking at her and attempting to hide the beginnings of an admiring smile on her face. “Yeah?”

“You’re actually a lot more tolerable than the Heathers.”

“That sounds almost like a compliment, Heather,” Veronica sighed happily, raising a brow.

Heather merely smiled at her – a genuine, sweet smile Veronica had never truly seen but still felt as though it’s reserved for her – and nudged her softly with her shoulder.

“Try not to get used to it.” She whispered gently, a stark contrast to her usual snappy tone.

“I’ll try.”

Part 2 soon??

[goatkingwc]

MASCOT WITH MENACING EYES Episode 2 of CRWC GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB,

GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.

MENACING EYES by SEAN CONWAY

Freshly squeezed orange juice, beans, mushrooms, eggs and a stack of bacon drizzled in maple syrup. This was a regular breakfast for the farmer which is why he is bulging out of his overalls.Despite his size, the farmer is a unassuming man, living alone miles away in the back woods, only making the trip to town to sell his wares.

By the way he dressed you would think he was Amish, he probably could be Amish if it wasn’t for his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck and his love of beer. He wasn’t one for fancy beer, he only had one preference that is must be cold, refreshing, and American made. The Farmer loved nothing more than a few Coors Lite after a hards day work. The farmer does most of his drinking on a Sunday, he does extra work on Saturday so he can sit back and enjoy that afternoons football game reminiscing about his days playing all those years ago.

Devouring the last of his breakfast feast that could easily feed a family of four, he enjoyed his meal oblivious to the fact that menacing eyes were staring at him with murderous intent only a few short steps away. The farmer slurped down the last of his orange juice and set out for a hards day work in the fields, unaware that today will be his last day working in those fields if the onlooker with those menacing eyes has his way.

Ploughing through the fields, the first of many chores for the day, singing along with gusto to the smooth sounds of Billy Joe Shaver, George Jones and Johnny Cash. The hours flew past with heavenly harmonics echoing through the isolated fields.

It was time for the Farmer to park up his plough and enjoy a well-deserved lunch. Nothing exciting, just a white bread sandwich with way too much bacon and a drizzle of homemade barbecue sauce made from a recipe passed down from his grandmother. Sitting on his plough, tapping his feet to the beat of Waylon Jennings, and enjoying his heart attack in a sandwich lunch, blissfully unaware of the danger that lay ahead as the beholder of those menacing eyes spied on the unassuming Farmer from a distance.

The Farmer finished his lunch and went about finishing the remaining chores for the day. He feed the chickens, he feed the cows, he feed the sheep and even had time to change the shoes on his beloved horse Bo named after his favourite Auburn Football player Bo Jackson. Bo wasn’t a racehorse, but the Farmer would watch Bo in the field and daydream of him raising the Kentucky Derby Trophy alongside the only creature he considered a friend.

One last job before The Farmer could call it a day, and that was to feed the pigs their gruel. He wouldn’t feed them any ole gruel, because these weren’t any ole pigs. These were Blue-Ribbon Award-winning pigs. The Farmer would spend hours cooking and refining his gruel recipe until he had the perfect concoction.

The Farmer walked over to the barn to retrieve his gold star gruel for his gold star pigs, but on his short journey, The Farmer stopped, he had a peculiar feeling he was being watched, a strange sense for the Farmer who lived alone on an isolated farm miles from town. The Farmer looked around and saw nothing out of the ordinary, he paused for a moment before he chuckled to himself. Paranoid thoughts were a very rare occurrence for the level headed farmer, but the Farmer wasn’t being paranoid, we was indeed being watched by menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had plans to make this the last day he ever worked on that farm.

Collecting the gruel from the barn and still humoured by his bout of paranoia, the Farmer pulled up to the pig sty in his 1955 Ford Pick Up truck, blaring his music as loud as it would go, the Farmer despite being level headed, had a collection of strange theories, he believed playing loud music for the pigs comforted then and made the meat taste better. A strange theory indeed, but whose to argue with his logic considering how many Blue Ribbons he had won.

As the day grew longer The Farmer had to struggle with the weight of his homemade gruel out of the pickup truck before he entered the pig sty. Despite his tiring body The Farmer still had a peep in his step as he enjoyed the music along with the pigs. He poured the gruel he took such pride into the troff, the sound of the Farmers home cooking hitting the metal troff sent the hungry pigs into a frenzy, bashing and crashing past the Farmer.

The Farmer’s large body was no match for the stampede of giant award winning pigs as the sound of the bones in his legs crushing drowned out the sound of the music blaring from his pickup truck, the pigs giant mass has crushed his legs and The Farmer collapsed under his own weight in agony, his screams echoing through the freshly ploughed fields of his isolated farm.

The pain was unbearable but he managed to crawl through the wet mud that was a mix of dirt and pig shit, and lean his broken body against the chicken wire fence so he could see the extent of the damage to his legs. The Farmer tried rolling up his pant legs, but his legs were so severely broken that the bones had ripped through material of his blood-soaked overalls. The sense that he was being watched overcome the Farmer once again, he was now face to face with those Menacing eyes that had murderous intent that had been watching The Farmer since breakfast, they’re eyes all too familiar to The Farmer, they were the eyes of Hog Brady, a runt of a pig the Farmer had raised since he was piglet, naming him Hog Brady for his hatred of New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady. 

The Farmer had grown to love this runt of a pig over the years even though he wasn’t a Blue Ribbon pig. Hog Brady though, had no love for the Farmer, watching him for years and years routinely butcher his family and friends and devour their corpses, and for what? A few blue ribbons from the county fair. This did not sit well with Hog Brady at all, he has waited years for the opportunity to exact his revenge on the butcherous Farmer, he was going to enjoy feasting on the Farmer, starting with mutilated legs.

The Farmer punched and screamed at Hog Brady, has hard as he could but he was no match for his vengeful foe, the punches and the screaming only forced Hog Brady to consume The Farmer faster. This once runt piglet was now devouring The Farmer as quickly as he could. The other pigs on the other hand, have devoured their gruel, and with their appetites not yet met, the Farmer looked like a plentiful dessert.

The pigs made easy work of the Farmer as they feasted on his flesh as they enjoyed soothing melodies of Tammy Wynette blaring from the pickup truck. It only took a few short minutes for The Farmer to be no more.

Spending hours and hours perfecting a recipe for his Blue Ribbon winning Pigs, it would The Farmer himself who would become a 5 Star meal for his 5 Star pigs.

MASCOT by NATHAN HULL

I had been summoned to the general managers office. A rare thing for a lowly team mascot, yet here I was sitting outside his large office trying to figure out whether this was a positive or potentially terrible thing for my career. Thinking back on the last week what I it was, good or bad that I could have done to land myself waiting like a nervous school child outside the Principles doors. 

“You can go through now” The uninterested receptionist sighed fiddling with her phone not even taking the time to look up at me. “yeah thanks’ I replied before taking a deep breath and walking in to meet my fate. 

Upon entering the room I shuffled nervously, waiting to be acknowledged before Mr Grandioso finally told me to sit “ Well well if it isn’t everyone’s favourite mascot” he said dismissively, lighting a large cigar and pouring himself a brandy “Make mine a double” I said with a  laugh trying to break the tension in the room. Mr Grandioso just stared unimpressed at me before continuing. “As you know we are having a terrible season, we are 1 and 11 and making the finals is now almost impossible, heads must roll’  

I wasn’t entirely sure what this had to do with me as a mascot, I mean all I did was run around in a large Goat costume trying to draw some attention away from the teams terrible performance each week, so I put my fist to my chin and nodded importantly “yes yes I agree” I said hoping that maybe I was about to be given a raise from Mascot to head coach.  ‘What can I do to help Mr Grandioso” I said reaching into my pocket for a pen and note pad, trying to look as prepared and confident as I now I assumed the other coaching candidates would look.

“Put that pen away Manfred, Im firing you” Mr grandioso sighed. ‘What me? firing me? Im the only person who actually does what there paid to do on game day” I yelled “this clubs a fucking joke a fucking shithole joke!’ I screamed making my situation much worse than it already was.

I lept out of my chair and was tackled to the ground by two of Mr Grandioso’s assistants “ listen you jabbering little cock sucker” he hissed “ you think I don’t know how bad this team performs? The amount of money I have invested into the most useless team in the history of this club?” he continued “If it where up to me id fire the lot of them but after the pre-season promises made the outrages spending spree the internal cover ups I need to at least galvanise the fans, so I’m placing the blame squarely on you”

 My head was spinning a moment ago I thought I was going to make the dream leap from Mascot to coach a feet only ever achieved once by Lucky the Dolphin in 1937, now however I realised I had lost everything, I was a patsy a fall guy a nobody. 

I slunk my way out of the stadium and over to the closest bar where I found Terry the Turtle drinking alone .Usually during the season id have no time to chat with our cross town rivals mascot but seeing as I was just fired I sat at his table and over a few drinks explained my situation.

During the course of the afternoon and a long chat it came to light that many mascots where feeling displaced and abused, and one by one we called the others eventually coming up with a plan to not only claim justice but also make us rich. The plan was simple I would take $2000 from each mascot and place a seemingly impossible bet that my ex team would go on to win every remaining  game including the championship for the year it was a $40000 bet put on at 1000 to 1 odds a $40,000,000 pay day. 

And so for the remainder of the season the plan was executed.  Mascots would tamper with play books and equipment disrupt practices, some even going as far as secretly injuring or poisoning star players. Doing whatever it took to ensure our bet payed off. And so it did we succeeded in fucking with the entire league and claiming a nice $2,000,000 each. Not bad for a bunch of no body mascots, once down trodden and laughed at we now where kings and I was the King Goat.

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