#it only took about 2 hours and several roster changes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dudeandduchess · 3 years

Text

Yakuza!Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Sugar and Spice (Mafia!AU, Modern AU, NSFW Series)[Chapter 2]

Summary: Kyōjurō and (Y/n) meet at a party, only to find out that their lives would change forever— since they had been arranged to be married. To make matters even more difficult for them, they were from two different walks of life, with (Y/n) being the Prime Minister’s daughter, and Kyōjurō being the heir to his clan’s Yakuza group.

Warnings: Smut, Kabedon, Groping, Making Out, Marking

Chapter 1| Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

***

No matter how much (Y/n) tried to shake the memory of those piercing eyes from her mind, she never could forget just how hauntingly beautiful they were— especially when they were trained so hard on her the night before.

It was why she had made a hasty escape; tucking tail and practically shoving her champagne glass at a waiter, before making up some halfhearted excuse about forgetting a prior engagement.

She could tell that the ladies she had been with were skeptic of her reasons, but had still let her go; just in time, as well, because Kyōjurō would have gotten to her if they had tried to keep her any longer.

Still, hours after that ordeal— even while she laid on her bed— with the warm, morning rays of the sun shining down on her through her windows, she could still feel the less-than-proper intent behind them. They were the eyes of a predator; someone who was silently telling her that he was going to devour her.

And if she were being honest, it scared and thrilled her at the same time.

“Hopefully, I’ll never have to see him again,” The young woman whispered to herself, right before closing her eyes and stretching her limbs outwards; it felt so good on her tired muscles. But her peaceful time alone was cut short with a soft but firm knock on her door.

“Good morning, (Y/n)-sama.” She almost groaned aloud at the sound of her temporary secretary’s voice; wishing to all hell that she were back in her university dorm— protected by a bodyguard, but still living with relative privacy.

But, unfortunately, it was summer break and she was obligated to stay at the Prime Minister’s residence; much like how her brothers were also required to live there when they weren’t living at their dorms. And, being the youngest— as well as the only girl— out of three children, her father was much stricter on her.

(Y/n) sighed then, deciding not to stall any longer and calling out a flat ‘come in’. It was then followed by the quiet creaking of the door, as well as the soft footsteps coming towards her bed.

As much as the young woman still wanted to just go back to sleep, she decided not to be difficult and opened her eyes— only for them to fall on Rin. She was a frail woman in her mid-thirties, looking very strict with her neatly pressed uniform; but it was her severely tight bun that had (Y/n) and her siblings knowing that the woman meant business at first glance.

“Good morning, Rin-san, may I know my schedule for today?” (Y/n) asked with a forced smile, knowing full well that she had a full roster for that day— what with her mother forking over some small charity appearances over to her and her brothers; all to show the people that they were very much active in society, despite also being busy with their own passion projects.

Rin nodded at that, before referring down to her clipboard and flipping a page— which had (Y/n)’s eyebrows quirking, since she saw so many things highlighted on one of her brothers’ schedule sheets.

“Your schedule has been cleared today, (Y/n)-sama.” That explained why she saw all those neon yellow lines on the pages before hers, but that had her stomach tightening with apprehension; because having a clear schedule at the last minute didn’t really bring good things.

“And why is that?”

“The Prime Minister has requested an audience with you for brunch, and he asked that you clear your schedule for the rest of the day to entertain his guest.”

Suddenly, she wanted to switch schedule with either one of her brothers. Hell, she would have rather been giving speeches and kissing babies, if it got her out of whatever clown show her father was about to put her through.

“Can I get out of this brunch?”

“No, Miss.”

“Alright, then. What time is this… fiasco? Nine-thirty? Ten? And do I already have something to wear for it?”

***

Who comes in late to meet the Prime Minister? The barbed thoughts reverberated around within (Y/n)’s head, as she presented a calm and collected façade for the world to see.

The dress she wore was modest enough for brunch, but with a touch of sexiness that had her quirking an eyebrow at the stern Rin when it had been handed to her earlier. Because, normally, Rin had her dressed up with the most modest of dresses; it would have been enough to put any miko to shame.

That already had her mind reeling with possibilities, yet she didn’t dare jump on any of them— since there were also numerous other things that could happen. Nothing was impossible, what with her being the daughter of Japan’s Prime Minister, after all.

For all she knew, she could be meeting the Prince of Wales with her father.

“Are we meeting Prince Charles, otou-sama? I didn’t brush up on my English last night,” She whispered to her father, who stifled his laughter and dabbed his table napkin to his lips— if only to muffle his humorous chuckles.

Yorihiko, (Y/n)’s father, turned to her then— before lowering his table napkin back down to his lap and showing her his bright grin. For someone who was in his mid-sixties, he still looked as youthful as ever. And, save for the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes— as well as the greying hair atop his head— she would have gandered him as not a day over fifty. “Not the Prince of Wales, (Y/n)-chan, but someone who will be much more important to this family in the future.”

Maybe it was just her being a little chilly, but she felt shivers race down her spine at those ominous words. However, she couldn’t even collect herself before the butler announced that their long-awaited guest was finally there.

And she had to try really hard to pick her jaw up from the ground when she saw two heads of blond hair coming out into the garden. The one she knew as Rengoku Kyōjurō wore a crisp, black suit with a blood red tie— one that matched his eyes and hair very well; while the older man next to him wore a formal kimono with a sleek, black haori perched on his shoulders.

“The yakuza, otou-sama?” (Y/n) whisper-yelled at her father, who only gave her a nod before getting up from his seat— all while smoothly laying his table napkin on the table— so he could greet their guests.

She followed suit immediately, but she couldn’t help her unsteady legs as she walked around the table and gave the Rengokus a small bow. “Welcome to our home, dear guests.”

“Don’t be too stiff, daughter; call me otou-sama,” The older man spoke in a gruff tone, smirking all the while as he looked at (Y/n).

The young woman couldn’t even speak, but managed a small nod— right before turning to the man that she had been under just the night before. A chorus of “oh no”s kept playing inside her head, but she couldn’t even voice out her panic, nor her disapproval at whatever arrangement had been arranged between her and the Yakuza heir.

“How about we have our meal as we talk, Shinjurō? And then we can leave the kids to be acquainted?” Yorihiko suggested with a bright smile, all while motioning over to the table that he and (Y/n) had been sitting at earlier.

It already burned (Y/n) to even be in the same vicinity as the man who had been between her legs just the night before, but it burned her even more when he smirked right at her— before offering his arm to her; as if he was the perfect gentleman.

And with her being who she was, couldn’t even turn him down. So, she found herself slipping a hand into the crook of his arm; holding on to him as he walked her back to the table. To make matters even worse for her, he even pulled out her chair for her, before helping her sit down.

That action hadn’t been done for mere chivalry, however, as Kyōjurō took it as a chance to whisper right by her ear, “It’s nice to see you again, baby. You look really… fuckable in that dress.”

“Fuck you.” (Y/n) managed to whisper back, which earned a sexy little chuckle from the blond.

He wanted nothing more than to pull her by the hair and make her face him, just so he could kiss her breathless and show her that he wasn’t to be messed with, but they were in front of company, and he didn’t want to disrespect her like that in front of their fathers.

After all, he was going to be his wife. And he was always taught that Rengokus respected their wives above all else.

“You almost did, baby. Maybe on the honeymoon, though,” Kyōjurō whispered back with a grin, before finally pulling away and taking the empty seat right next to her— much to (Y/n)’s chagrin.

Lunch passed by in a blur for (Y/n), however; with conversation being led by the two patriarchs. She was nothing more than a spectator at the table, since she was still trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

And, from what she could catch, she and Kyōjurō really were arranged to be married. In this day and age, arranged marriages were such an archaic concept but, apparently, the Rengokus had a lot to do with her father getting the Prime Minister position— and he owed them a lot.

So, now that the Rengokus are being pinned with crimes that weren’t their doings— and with Shinjurō facing multiple life sentences if things aren’t resolved— they had to cash in that favor with (Y/n)’s father.

After all, what better way to clear someone’s name, than to get related through marriage to the very man who signs them? No other man’s vouch could be stronger that the Prime Minister’s; if he said that he trusted the Rengokus enough to have his only daughter marry into their family, then all those pending cases would be dismissed as nothing more than baseless accusations.

(Y/n) had always known that her father was involved with all kinds of people, but she had never even had an inkling that he had been rubbing elbows with the Yakuza— of all people.

***

Once brunch was over— with her food having been barely touched— the patriarchs left both (Y/n) and Kyōjurō in the garden to ‘get acquainted’. However, (Y/n) had much more different things in mind, so she got up from her seat and tossed her table napkin onto the table; all before making hasty escape back into the house.

Kyōjurō’s eyebrows quirked at his fiancée’s actions, but it didn’t dampen the smirk that tugged up at the corners of his lips; as he watched her hips swaying so seductively a few ways away from him.

Last night, he had been pissed to have seen her walking away from him— and that time was no different, but it posed an extremely exciting challenge that he was more than willing to take on.

So, that was how he found himself getting up from his own seat and following after her— but not before glaring right at the guards that had been about to keep him from following her.

That kept them right in their places, which was good enough for him— and had him resuming his leisurely stroll right behind his charismatic bride-to-be.

But she didn’t get to go much farther than the back door of the mansion; as Kyōjurō quickly took his chance to press her back against the wall— making sure to cushion the back of her head, as he caged her in with his right arm and his body.

“Don’t walk away from me, baby,” Kyōjurō stated with a smile; right before dipping his head down to brush his lips against hers in the faintest of kisses.

That move didn’t fail to make (Y/n)’s toes curls right in her heels, but she tried so hard to ignore the tingles that were shooting across her skin; even taking to looking at anywhere but at Kyōjurō.

All because the events from the night before were playing in her mind— hot, raunchy, and filled with so much lust for him.

But the blond wasn’t deterred by her reaction at all, coming to press his hips right against her— and making her feel the bulge that was slowly growing bigger beneath his pants.

“Come on, sweetheart. Kiss me like you did last night,” The young man teased once more, then dipped his head down to catch her lips once more‚ but in a much deeper kiss that, inevitably, had (Y/n) melting against him; especially when he lightly tugged at her hair, all while gently nipping at her bottom lip.

All the while, his right hand snaked itself down to cup her right hip; kneading it in a gentle massage, before slipping down further so he could cup her ass. He then gave it a squeeze, which had her gasping right into their kiss; giving him enough time to slip his tongue right between her lips, all so he could play with her own.

When Kyōjurō felt her responding to his kisses— much like how she was last night— he took that as his chance to tease her even further by pulling away; latching on to her neck and trailing kisses down to the crook where her neck met her shoulders— and biting down on the skin, before sucking on it to leave a love bite.

He wasn’t contented with just one, however, and found himself leaving more of his marks all over her neck as well. Every single one had her moaning softly and, somewhere along the way, one of her hands had made its way onto the back of his own head— where she was gripping his hair tightly.

She was really melting under his touch, and he loved it so much.

And things only made a turn for the better when he quickly bunched the back of her dress up with the hand that had been groping her ass, before slipping his hand down further so he could cup her pussy from behind; grinning when he felt her so wet beneath her underwear.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked, all while rubbing the tips of his fingers against her soaked entrance; loving the way that her fingers kept tightening and loosening on his hair— especially the subtle way that she was trying to rub her pussy up against his cock.

(Y/n) was silent at first— refusing to give in and answer him— until the blond readjusted his hand and made quick work of slipping it up the front of her dress; right before pushing her panties aside and pinching her clit between his index and middle fingers. The move had her hips jerking involuntarily, and also had her moaning softly when Kyōjurō began to play with the little bud.

“…Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

(Y/n) was just about to give in and actually beg him to fuck her right there— up against the side of her father’s residence— when all sense came crashing down on her and she yanked on Kyōjurō’s hair… hard. “Get off of me!”

It was clear on Kyōjurō’s face that that move had pissed him off, but he couldn’t help but obey (Y/n)’s words— albeit reluctantly. And he wanted to just scowl at her, but the sight of her looking so disheveled had him laughing; outright laughing, as he took in her messed up lipstick and crazy hair.

The glare that (Y/n) was aiming right at him looked mildly threatening, but it was the best she could do— especially when she heard the blond’s attractive laughter. How a laugh could be attractive, she didn’t know; it just was— and it was highly unfair, since he already had such a handsome face.

Even the fresh love bites all over her neck and shoulders added to her ‘just fucked’ look, diminishing the aggressiveness in her expression even more, and that pleased Kyōjurō so much.

He couldn’t wait until he really messed her up. He’d make sure that she wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed in the morning.

423 notes · View notes

teruthecreator · 3 years

Note

THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)

just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it)

gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long

so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me

fitzroy maplecourt:

first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school!

my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.

not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country.

he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care!

unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him.

his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie

the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens:

he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table.

the table blows up.

after that, he has magic!!!

i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.

he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!

well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!)

he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic.

but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy

argonaut keene:

he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!

argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present!

basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon.

what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!

shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years!

and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.

after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!

he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.

eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation.

and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past.

he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud.

the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.

the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic

like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It

argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression

he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite

that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:

as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.

fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out

argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh!

now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain

fitzroy’s magic:

chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order!

my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun.

my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent.

which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply.

his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.

i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic.

i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can.

order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”

OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.

okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION

argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:

so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of.

moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.

generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It

a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life

also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing.

i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.

OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed.

during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!

OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already:

in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually

okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him.

only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow.

hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.

now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.

so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!

he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell.

hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz.

also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.

firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him.

fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle.

uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!

#taz graduation #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #roleswap maplekeene #ignorance cloud on #thanks em!!!!#sorry this is a mile long i had a lot to say #and now...i sleep!#jesus christ i have to drive 16 hrs tomorrow #help me :-)#ember360

21 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 17

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

~~*~~

Read Chapter 17 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge’s prediction that they’d be sleeping close in Rus’s narrower bed was proven very true, but so was his assertion that he wouldn’t mind. After they were done cleaning up the Rec room, their own mess and what the others left behind, they went back to Rus’s room to put his shower token to good use.

The bed itself was smaller than Edge’s and the mattress not quite as firm, but it had a definite bonus in that Rus was in it. Warm and sleepy, snuggling readily into Edge’s arms. Tired as he was, sleep did not come to Edge right away. He lay awake, quietly focused on listening to Rus breathe. He didn’t know what time he finally drifted off, but he woke when Rus’s alarm blared, or at least he thought it was an alarm. A loud male voice yowling out that it was ‘peanut butter jelly time’ certainly woke a person up. Edge might have leapt out of the bed and readied an attack if his limbs weren’t tangled with Rus’s.

As it was, Rus’s heartfelt groan was definitely a shared sentiment. He managed to free an arm from both the blankets and Edge, flailing out to find his alarm and turn it off. The clatter of it hitting the floor was a good indication that he was more invested right now in staying in bed than rising to face the day, and that was not an ideal that Edge shared.

He pressed a light kiss to Rus’s brow bone and murmured, “I need to get up.”

That got a reaction. Instantly, Rus’s arms tightened around him and through the muffling blankets came a surly, “no. you stay. here. ”

It was difficult not to smile. “I can’t. I have work. You have work.”

The wordless grumbles sounded less than enthusiastic at that truth and Edge decided to try a different approach.

“Breakfast will be ready soon,” Edge coaxed. “And as much as I don’t care about gossip, I would rather change my clothes beforehand.” Especially since they could use a good wash after that particular movie viewing.

A deep sigh came from the depths of the blankets, and finally Rus’s skull emerged from beneath the blankets like a creature from the deep, although his roar was more like a yawn. “okay, yeah, food would be good. lemme throw on some clothes and we can head out.”

The sensation of having Rus squirm free of the bed was a delightfully new experience, if an unexpectedly stimulating one, his bones scraping lightly against Edge’s in several rather sensitive places. They’d slept bare and a faint flush tinged Rus’s cheek bones as he stood by the bed in nothing but his own bones. Edge shifted to sit against the headboard to watch.

Rus paused as Edge made no move to follow him upright. “you gonna get dressed?”

“In a moment, thank you,” Edge said politely.

Rus’s mouth pursed suspiciously, his expression wavering between amusement and irritation, “are you really going to sit there and watch while i get dressed?”

“Yes.”

That blush brightened, a lovely honey orange, but his face settled on sweetly pleased, “heh, okay, but if you’re hoping for a reverse striptease, i couldn’t win a dance competition against a moldsmal.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Edge murmured, watching as Rus’s glossily pretty bones slowly disappeared beneath his clothing. The wriggle of his pelvis as he pulled up his pants, the complex shift of his spine as he slipped on a shirt. “This is perfectly fine.”

It was difficult to pull his gaze away from Rus to glance at the time, but Edge managed. Breakfast wasn’t for over half an hour. Hm.

“there!” Rus announced, sitting on the side of the bed to pull on his socks. “happy? now you can--eep!”

His startled cry was caught beneath Edge’s mouth as he was hauled back onto the mussed bed, but there wasn’t a single protest after surprise faded, only sweet enthusiasm.

The bed was quite a bit narrower than his own, but as it turned out, it was perfectly serviceable. For all their needs.

~~*~~

Despite Edge’s better intentions, they did end up a few minutes late to breakfast. All the researchers were already there and halfway to clearing their plates by the time Edge and Rus took their seats.

A few scattered greetings came their way, which he replied to in kind, along with Undyne’s smirk, which Edge resolutely ignored. Rus sat at his left on the end of the table to prevent a war of elbows while they were eating and when he boldly settled his right hand on Edge’s, those phalanges cautiously tracing his own, Edge simply turned his hand over and twined their fingers together.

He did not think of how little time they had left, focusing on the now. Tomorrow would have to take care of itself and while the sex was certainly enjoyable, very much so, this was very nice. Sharing the breakfast together that they should have had the first morning after, rather than painful arguments and accusations.

Thinking of which, it did not escape his notice that his brother’s chair was empty again. Something needed to be done about that.

Most of the researchers were already gone by the time they finished eating, though a few lingered, their laptops in front of them while they dawdled over their plates and coffee.

“Where are you off to today?” Edge asked as he and Rus washed their plates. The roster would clearly state where Rus was signed out to go, but he may as well simply ask rather than creepily slog through the paperwork.

“outpost #2 so i can pull the latest numbers,” Rus said, setting his dishes in the drainer. “be a couple of hours, then it’s back for calculations,” Rus heaved out an exaggerated sigh. “it’s a shame how much of astronomy is actually math. no one told me that when i was still in striped shirts. see ya at lunch, boss.”

His sockets widened as Edge leaned in, brushing their mouths together. “Be careful,” he murmured.

There was something charming about seeing him stunned by a simple kiss, considering what they’d done the night before. Rus swallowed hard and nodded, looking as if his skull was somehow wobbly on his vertebrae, then fled the room as if afraid Edge might try persuading him to stay. Or perhaps he was afraid he wouldn’t resist if Edge did.

Edge turned back to the table to find an entire studio audience watching, researchers and Undyne alike and every one of them wore an expression of great interest. He scowled at them, to no avail.

“If you don’t mind,” Edge said politely. One of the glaciologists,-- what was her name, was it Nadine?-- only beamed at him happily, for all the world as if movie night horror shows had morphed to an early morning rom-com.

“We don’t mind at all,” she grinned, but went back to her breakfast with a last sly glance.

Honestly, this was why relationships with the researchers was an awful idea. No one knew how to mind their own business.

Speaking of which.

Edge waited until after the others left, then headed into the kitchen. As he wasn’t given a ‘special plate’ today, he could only assume he was reasonably forgiven. But recent events were proof that assumptions only led to trouble and he honestly liked Bonnie. She was a private person and often kept to herself, but she was a very important member of their team. They’d always had a certain comradery that Edge found he was missing.

He found her at her workstation, ingredients laid out around her. Lunch often included some kind of soup, warming and filling, and she was dicing up root vegetables before tossing them into a large stock pot.

She pointedly ignored Edge even though he was standing well within her field of vision. He waited patiently until she sighed and laid her knife aside, her chin raised as she met his scarred gaze with her own.

Anyone who believed that speaking in hands was blandly impersonal was one who needed a great deal more experience in the language, because there was remorse in every word Edge signed, I know you were angry with me. I am sorry.

Bonnie’s mouth pursed, her good eye hooded as she looked at Edge consideringly. He wondered how much she knew about the argument, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she had a damned transcript of it. One couldn’t spend as much time around Red as they all did without picking up a trick or two.

Her hands were slow, reluctant, as she signed, He’s young.

That held an implication that he didn’t care for; Rus was no child or even a virgin, by his own word. By the name of the cursed dead King, he was working on his damn PhD. Edge forced himself not to bristle as he signed curtly, He’s no younger than I am.

That didn’t seem to be the answer she wanted, her frown deepening as she glared at him. You are older in knowledge! Bonnie signed agitatedly. He doesn’t know many things. He has a good soul.

That much Edge could agree with. He does.

He should stay here. Safer here than out there.

Ah, and there was the crux of it, wasn’t it. He didn’t know what she’d been through, what she’d suffered. But he did know that Buns usually came from very large families, many generations living together, and Bonnie had come to them alone. She’d kept her distance in one way or another for the entire time she’d been here, but something about Rus broke through her reticence and pulled the familial urges she’d set aside years ago to the fore.

Carefully, Edge signed, He can’t.

He could! You tell him to stay! Accusingly and there was a temptation that did not need to be considered.

He is not that young, he can make his own choices. As gently as he could, his fingers moving like falling petals. He deserves sunshine.

She blew out a noisy breath, seeming to realize there was no point in arguing. She turned back to her chopping but before she picked up her knife, she reached out and grabbed another cutting board, slapping it down on the counter and signing curtly, Help me dice the potatoes.

Allowing himself a faint smile, Edge began rolling up his sleeves.

~~*~~

Lunch was well underway by the time he left the kitchen, soup bubbling in the pot and bread dough set at the back of the counter to proof, a tacit indication that he would be welcome back that afternoon to help with kneading.

There was one more thing that needed to be done before he could start on the mountain of paperwork waiting for him.

Bonnie hadn’t offered a single comment when Edge left her to lunch preparations and began making sandwiches despite the still-early hour, smearing on plenty of mustard atop the leftover meatloaf. What she had done was disappear into the pantry, coming back out with one of her smaller canning jars that was filled with the pickles she made from the little cucumbers that grew in the hydroponic gardens. Red was particularly fond of them and the two of them had a lively ongoing battle of him stealing jars whenever he could sneak one while Bonnie came up with new and sometimes bemusing places to hide them. Edge still remembered finding one buried in the middle of a large bag of flour, carefully wrapped in plastic and nestled inside.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Red was skipping meals and no matter how annoyed she might be, Bonnie had her own ways of showing she cared.

Edge added several pickles to the plate before carrying it off in the direction of the living quarters, to a door that was the furthest possible from the researcher’s quarters without physically being in another building. The lock was changed frequently, but Alphys made sure to give him a new key just as often. She refused to keep one for herself and at least one of them needed to be able to go in without breaking down the door, if only for safety reasons.

Edge knocked once before unlocking it, saying loudly enough to be heard through the door. “I’m coming in.”

There was no response, but he truly hadn’t expected one. He took a deep breath, let it out, and opened the door.

His brother’s room was more like a cave than living quarters. He didn’t have a bed frame, only a bare mattress laid out on the floor covered in an overflowing pile of blankets and pillows. If Edge’s room was sparsely furnished, Red’s more than made up for it with sheer masses of clutter. Shelves filled with gewgaws and machine parts, one shelf was entirely filled with dusty shot glasses from every gas station they’d ever visited while they were living amongst the humans.

Another was filled with circuit boards, switches, and gadgets. Edge couldn’t begin to guess at what any of those little devices did and it usually seemed safer not to ask.

His brother was sitting at his workbench, the lamp there was the only light in the room, casting him in a sodium-yellow glow. His knit hat was off, revealing the full extent of the damage still on his skull. To Edge’s knowing eye, they looked a minuscule amount better after his last healing treatment. A few more and the bone would be healed. Any other healing would simply take time.

Red didn’t look at him, his attention on whatever he was working on. Edge watched him work for a moment, nimble fingers flying over whatever he was creating, tiny screwdrivers and tools chosen and then returned to their chosen spot. The rest of the room might be disordered chaos but his workbench was pristine, a place for everything and everything in its place.

It was honestly relaxing to watch, but Edge was here on a mission. He set the plate at Red elbow with a deliberate thunk. “You weren’t at breakfast. Or dinner last night.”

“i ate,” Red grumbled. That didn’t stop him from picking up one of the sandwiches, stuffing half of it into his mouth in one bite. Through his mouthful, he said even as he chewed, “saw you and the fashion victim are back on.”

“Yes,” Edge agreed, warily.

Crumbs fell to the floor, mustard smearing Red’s teeth, but despite his messy habits, Red kept back from the small device on his worktable. Red wasn’t the scientist Alphys is, but he was an engineer in his own right and he kept most of the machines and vehicles in top working order. None of the researchers here knew that Red had his own PhD, none of them realized the brilliance held in his small body and that was the way Red preferred it.

But Edge knew. His hand itched to stroke over that cracked skull, to take reassurance in knowing that his brother might not be quite whole but neither was he about to fall apart. He resisted the urge; Red likely wouldn’t appreciate it and he wanted his brother to eat.

Which he was, watching Edge suspiciously through the corner of his socket as he started on the second sandwich. “been thinking about what you said about your honey. about if i knew what he’d been through.”

Of course he had. “I also said to leave him alone,” Edge sighed.

How convenient that Red ignored that. He’d discovered the offering of pickles hidden behind the bread and the last sandwich was abandoned half-eaten as he snatched up the entire handful, popping two into his mouth at once as he spun his chair around to face Edge. “ain’t much in the information packet he gave us, you know. address is in ebott, goes to the university, no surprises there. so i hacked into the embassy records to get a better peek.”

“You what??” Edge sputtered. He swore his soul went still in his chest, skipping an entire beat, “the point is to not draw their attention, what were you thinking?”

Red’s easy grin did not fill him with any sort of confidence. “relax, this ain’t my first rodeo. i know how to cover my tracks and his file was easy to find.” He leaned in, pickles forgotten as he said, low, “bro, he didn't exist until two years ago.”

“What do you mean?” Despite his intentions, Edge was reluctantly interested.

“he didn’t exist,” Red repeated, “nada, nothing, no info from the underground. monsters have been up on the surface for four years now and change. so where did he come from before he showed up in Ebott two years ago and then took the long way around to our front door?”

Where, indeed. But for all his affinity for puzzles, this was not one Edge was interested in answering. “I don’t care.”

“boss—”

“I don’t care!” Edge insisted. “Brother. Please. He’s not stealing, he’s not sneaking around. If he’s hiding from something, it’s not on our account. Let him be.” He could see Red’s protests bubbling beneath the surface, his brow bone lowering, and Edge added, softly, “I’m asking you to let him be. Let me be happy with him while he’s here.”

It was a low blow and Edge knew it, watched the emotions fluttering across Red’s face until he looked away, stuffing the last pickle into his mouth and mumbling messily around it, “okay, boss. i’ll let it go. where is he, anyway?”

There was no reason not to tell Red, not when he could simply check the roster. “He went out to outpost #2, he should be back for lunch.”

“then i’ve got some time,” Red wiped his hands on his shorts and spun his chair back towards the table. “hit bricks, kid, i can’t think with you staring through the back of my skull.”

The thoughtless joke made Edge wince; once he would have been able to see through the back of Red’s skull and even if that horrific damage was mostly healed, he did not appreciate the reminder. He gave in his clamoring urge to settle a gentle hand on his brother’s skull, lightly tracing the remaining cracks.

Beneath his touch, Red stilled, then blew out an impatient breath, shaking him off. But it was gently done. “get your worry fondles in later, i’m busy.”

“Yes, boss,” Edge said lightly, teasing, and Red snorted loudly.

“don’t even fucking think it, that’s a threat and a half. i ain’t getting cursed being in charge of all these asshats.”

“I’ll see you at lunch?” It teetered between order and question.

“if you get out and lemme finish this, you will. Beat it.”

Edge reclaimed the plate and did as he was told. His soul felt lighter than it had in longer than he cared to remember, and despite having just eaten, he found he was looking forward to lunch so that he could spend a little more time with the cause of it.

~~*~~

That lightness lingered as he did his paperwork, surging when the lunch hour came and he went to the dining hall to find Rus already there. He was immersed in his laptop and only offering a quick, distracted smile, but even that was warming.

All the researchers were in attendance along with Undyne and even Alphys, all gathered in one moment of seemingly perfection. Until Red came in, pushing open the door so hard it knocked into the wall behind it.

His knit hat was pulled down over his skull, his sunglasses abandoned for once and a hush fell over the room as he stalked right up to Rus’s seat.

Who didn’t even notice until Red was standing right next to him, flailing back in surprise as he looked up to find crimson eye lights far too close to this own. Edge hastily caught him, steadying him before he tipped backwards off the bench. Red only waited patiently as Rus settled back into his seat and then set a device right next to Rus’s plate.

“heya,” Rus said, warily, and that he would speak to Red without anger or accusations settled some of Edge’s churning worries. He wouldn’t have blamed Rus if he’d chosen to stay away from Red for the rest of his tenure and Edge wouldn’t make excuses for his brother nor ask for apologies, but he...he cared for both of them. He didn’t want hatred between them.

“here,” Red said gruffly. It was what he’d been working on that morning, Edge realized, an unremarkable black box with what looked like several USB ports and a few dials. “should help you get your work done a little faster. hook it between your laptop and the telescope, and you’ll be able to run your calculations while you’re stargazing or whatever it is you’re doing.”

Rus picked up the box, turning it over in his hands first with caution, then disbelieving wonder, “that…that adapter costs a fortune, how did you—thank you,” Rus said dumbly.

Red lifted one shoulder in a shrug and hopped into his own seat, reaching for the serving spoons. His disregard didn’t stop Rus’s from blathering on excitedly, his smile bright, and Edge only watched, a smile of his own only barely held back.

“did you make this?” Rus demanded, holding it out, and Red shrugged again.

“something like that. ain't too bad with my hands, fashion victim.” Rus didn’t react to the nickname, only smiled happily, and it was obvious that even without the words the apology was given and accepted. Around them, the conversations slowly resumed while Rus inspected his gift, mumbled beneath his breath about calculations, his own plate forgotten.

“seriously, though, this is amazing!” Rus laughed. “my bro would flip over this, dings is always fighting for funding, he ends up making his own gear half the time, too.”

“dings?” Red’s head jerked up like a wintry prairie dog, mashed potatoes falling messily from the sagging spoon to his plate as he stared at Rus with shrunken eye lights, “your brother is wingdings?”

“um, yeah,” Rus agreed, some of his delight fading as he looked at Red with understandable wariness; he and Red hadn’t been besties even before the incident and there was no mistaking his shock.

“wingdings gaster?” Red said in disbelief.

“you know my brother?” Rus’s confusion only deepened, his pale eye lights flicking from Red to Edge, who could only shrug. The name wasn’t familiar to him.

“i ...guess maybe i do,” Red said slowly. His tongue flicked out over his teeth. “didn’t know he was your bro. how’s old dings doing, anyway, it’s been a while.”

“fine, i suppose,” Rus glumly. His eye lights drifted down to his own bowl where he stirred his soup listlessly. “we aren’t really talking right now, he wasn’t happy about me coming here.”

“heh, that sounds about right,” Red chuckled. To Edge’s hearing, it sounded forced, strain leaking through. “sorry to hear that, bet you don’t even have a picture of him to keep you company.”

Rus laughed and shook his head, “you’d win that bet. he never shows up right in pictures, something about his magic messes it up, doesn’t matter if it’s old school film or the latest iphone, he looks weird.” He hefted the device again and his smile was easier, filled with gratitude. “anyway, thanks again, this’ll speed up my calculations a lot!”

Red’s smile eased into something more genuine. “No problem, kid.” he jerked his head towards the door, “go give it a try, i’ll take care of your plate for you.”

Rus only hesitated a moment before hastily gathering up his laptop. He only paused when he turned to Edge, eye lights flicking to Red, but he still leaned in and took a light kiss, sweet and devilishly tempting, before fleeing out the door with his arms filled with his laptop and the little device in hand.

Edge watched him go, then wordlessly turned back to his own plate. Eating calmly, waiting until the last researcher left him and his brother alone.

The moment the door swung shut behind the back of the last one, Edge spoke, quietly, “You know his brother?”

Red nodded, slowly, and his expression was not one that Edge liked, strangely agitated, “yeah, but. somethin’ ain’t right here, boss.” He licked his teeth again, eye lights sliding aimlessly around the room, lingering over nothing as he whispered, “wingdings gaster is dead. has been for years, what the fuck is going on?”

Dead. That was a puzzle that could not be ignored. Edge closed his sockets, pressing a knuckle between them where a headache was starting to form.

“Could he have faked his death?” Edge asked, clipped and low, “That would explain why Rus only showed up in the radar recently, if his whole family was in hiding.”

“faked falling into the core?” Red chuckled unpleasantly and shook his head. “don’t think so. look, i know you like the kid, hell, i like him, he’s got jokes. and i’m sorry i hurt the kid before. but there is something fucked up going on here, bro, and i ain’t so sure rus is the one hiding anythin’. we can’t ignore this one, let me check into it. ”

Rus’s tearstained face, pleading his innocence to them. Begging for their trust.

That headache loomed, throbbing in Edge’s skull, “You bring anything you find to me, first. All right?”

“yeah, you got it. we ain’t going through a redo,” Red pushed back from the table and stood, saying with as much gentleness as Red possessed, “there’s more than your love life at stake, boss.”

“I know.” But if things went poorly this time, Edge didn’t expect forgiveness again.

His brother walked out, leaving his own plate along with Rus’s for Edge to wash, but he did not care. It was a simple, mindless task that was not enough of a distraction, not at all.

One day of simple happiness was all he’d gotten and Edge wondered with helpless, dark humor if it was worth it for a few weeks of Rus in his arms.

His answer came in a memory of that morning, of Rus’s soft cries and delightful sweetness as they made love. The smiles he offered Edge, the wonder in his expression as he gazed up at the aurora as it danced across the sky. Worth it, Edge decided, and he offered a silent, foolish prayer to an Angel he didn’t quite believe in that his brother found nothing.

“Please,” Edge whispered to no one at all. There was no answer, but that was all right. It was exactly what he expected.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell undyne #underfell alphys #arctic AU

44 notes · View notes

sciencespies · 3 years

Text

From the moon to the Earth: How the Biden administration might reshape NASA

https://sciencespies.com/space/from-the-moon-to-the-earth-how-the-biden-administration-might-reshape-nasa/

From the moon to the Earth: How the Biden administration might reshape NASA

NASA Deputy Administrator Jim Morhard had perhaps one of the more understated public reactions to the outcome of the presidential election.

“It’s quite a day for everybody, to say the least,” he said at the start of a presentation Nov. 7 to the Space Generation Advisory Council’s SpaceGen Summit, just three hours after a range of media projections, from The Associated Press to Fox News, declared Joe Biden the winner. He didn’t elaborate on that comment and dove into his previously scheduled talk about the agency’s activities.

Whether the outcome prompted elation or disappointment, the election of Joe Biden has left the space industry wondering what comes next. While Biden is a familiar figure in politics, after decades in the Senate and eight years as Barack Obama’s vice president, his views on space, and his plans for NASA, are far less clear.

BIDEN SPACE POLICY

The Biden campaign said almost nothing about space during the race for the White House, other than a couple statements congratulating NASA on the successful launch and return of the Demo-2 commercial crew mission this summer. “As president, I look forward to leading a bold space program that will continue to send astronaut heroes to expand our exploration and scientific frontiers through investments in research and technology to help millions of people here on Earth,” he said in one of those statements.

“One of the things that I found surprising is that the Biden campaign did not issue a space policy statement,” said John Logsdon, founder and former director of George Washington University’s Space Policy Institute. “So, we’re left with the Democratic Party platform said.”

That platform included one paragraph about space which Logsdon considered “very positive,” if not without much detail. The platform endorsed, in broad terms, much of what NASA was currently doing, from science and technology development to continued operation of the International Space Station and human space exploration.

Most in the space industry who read that passage took away two major changes a Biden administration would pursue. The platform mentions “strengthening” Earth observation programs at both NASA and NOAA “to better understand how climate change is impacting our home planet.” That fits into a broader interest in climate change, which is one of four priorities identified by the incoming Biden administration alongside COVID-19, economic recovery and racial equity.

“Managing the Earth’s ability to sustain human life and biodiversity will likely, in my view, dominate a civil space agenda for a Biden-Harris administration,” predicted Lori Garver, a former NASA deputy administrator during the Obama administration, during a Nov. 7 speech at the SpaceVision 2020 conference by Students for the Exploration and Development of Space.

Biden’s focus on climate change doesn’t bode well for putting NASA’s underfunded Human Landing System back on track for reaching the moon by 2024, a Trump mandate few took literally. Credit: NASA illustration

Exactly how that will be implemented remains unclear. One possibility would be to accelerate implementation of the Earth science decadal survey though additional funding. “NASA is a national asset, and if properly directed and incentivized, we can make meaningful contributions to sustaining humanity,” Garver said.

The other change is in human space exploration. While the platform stated the party supported “NASA’s work to return Americans to the moon and go beyond to Mars,” it made no mention of a date for doing so, in particular the 2024 date set by the Trump administration last year. That’s led to speculation that the Biden administration will, at the very least, slow down the Artemis program, perhaps freeing up money for Earth science and other priorities elsewhere in the agency.

“I don’t think Artemis will get canceled. I also don’t think it will get any more money than what it’s currently getting,” said Wendy Whitman Cobb, a professor at the U.S. Air Force School of Advanced Air and Space Studies whose research includes space policy.

A 2024 human lunar landing might be ruled out even before Biden is sworn in on Jan. 20. NASA’s fiscal year 2021 budget proposal requested $3.2 billion for the Human Landing System (HLS) program to develop the landers needed to transport astronauts to and from the surface of the moon. The House, though, provided only about $600 million for HLS in a spending bill it passed in July.

NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine, while publicly thanking the House for providing at least some money for HLS, lobbied the Senate for full funding to keep a 2024 landing on schedule. “Accelerating it to 2024 requires a $3.2 billion budget for 2021 for the Human Landing System, which is in the president’s budget request,” he told Senate appropriators in September.

Those appropriators released their draft spending bills Nov. 10, which will serve as the basis for negotiations with the House on a final version. For NASA, they provided $1 billion for the HLS program, more than the House but still far short of the budget request. In the report accompanying the bill, Senate appropriators noted the uncertainty surrounding the program “makes it difficult to analyze the future impacts that funding the accelerated Moon mission will have on NASA’s other important missions.”

The HLS funding was just one obstacle to a 2024 human landing identified in a report by NASA’s Office of Inspector General Nov. 12 that discussed the agency’s top challenges, also citing delays in the Space Launch System and Orion. It concluded that NASA “will be hard-pressed to land astronauts on the Moon by the end of 2024.”

“I don’t know anyone who thinks we’re going to get there by 2024,” Garver said. “No matter who won, this was going to be an impossible goal.”

TRANSITION TEAM

While the incoming administration’s plans for NASA aren’t certain, it is working quickly on that transition. On Nov. 10, it announced the rosters of the agency review teams, or transition teams, that will fan out across the federal government to gather information to guide the new administration’s planning.

“The transition teams really come in to see how things are doing and make recommendations going forward,” said Garver, who led the NASA transition team for the incoming Obama administration in 2008.

The agency review team for NASA is filled with people who either used to work at the agency or who are otherwise very familiar with it. Leading the team is Ellen Stofan, a planetary scientist who served as NASA chief scientist during the Obama administration and is now director of the National Air and Space Museum. Waleed Abdalati, her predecessor as NASA chief scientist, is also on the team. He was co-chair of the most recent Earth science decadal survey.

Others have a range of NASA experience. Pam Melroy is a former NASA astronaut who flew on three shuttle missions and later worked at the FAA’s commercial space office and at DARPA. Dave Noble, Shannon Valley and David Weaver all held policy and communications posts at NASA during the Obama administration; Valley is also a climate scientist.

Bhavya Lal, a researcher at the Science and Technology Policy Institute, has studied a wide range of space-related topics for NASA and other government agencies. Jedidah Isler, an assistant professor at Dartmouth, hasn’t previously worked for NASA, but her research in astrophysics complements the scientific backgrounds of other members of the team.

When the team will be able to start work, though, isn’t clear. The Trump administration has been slow to recognize Biden’s win, and the head of the General Services Administration, which controls the resources for presidential transitions, has yet to release those resources to the Biden transition. NASA officials did not respond to questions Nov. 12 about whether it had started discussions with the agency review team or what guidance it had received from the White House about supporting the transition.

ADMINISTRATOR CANDIDATES

Another priority for the Biden transition is picking a new NASA administrator. Despite being confirmed on a close, party-line vote in the Senate in April 2018, Bridenstine had won over members of Congress on both sides of the aisle for his leadership of the agency. Some in the space community hoped that, even in the event of a Biden victory, Bridenstine could be kept on.

Bridenstine, though, plans to leave the agency at the end of the Trump administration, telling Aerospace Daily that he “would not be the right person” to lead the agency in a Biden administration. President-elect Biden’s NASA Transition Team The NASA administrator, he said, needed to have a “close relationship” with the White House, something that he, a former Republican congressman, lacked.

While the Biden transition has been quiet about its choice for a new administrator, there’s been plenty of speculation, dating back long before the election, about potential candidates for the job. That list is dominated by women, such as Melroy, the former astronaut on the transition team. Others include Wanda Austin, former president and chief executive of The Aerospace Corporation; Gretchen McClain, a former NASA official who later worked in industry and serves on the board of several companies, such as Booz Allen Hamilton; and Wanda Sigur, former vice president and general manager for civil space at Lockheed Martin.

Another possibility is Rep. Kendra Horn (D-Okla.), who lost her bid for a second term in November’s elections. Horn serves as chair of the House Science space subcommittee and has expressed skepticism about aspects of the Artemis program, including NASA’s ability to achieve a 2024 landing.

When a new administrator would take office isn’t clear, but experience suggests it may be months after inauguration day. The Obama administration did not nominate Charlie Bolden as administrator (and Garver as deputy administrator) until May 2009; the Senate confirmed them in July. Bridenstine, despite emerging as a top candidate for NASA administrator days after Trump won the 2016 election, was not nominated until early September of 2017.

Morhard, the current deputy administrator, will also likely be departing, something he quietly acknowledged in his SpaceGen Summit talk hours after Biden won. “Things are changing in the United States, we know that,” he said. “I’m certainly looking forward to the future and what comes next.”

This article originally appeared in the Nov. 16, 2020 issue of SpaceNews magazine.

#Space

1 note · View note

welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

Pace of Play

She can’t believe she’s never noticed it before. Because, honestly, Emma can’t even come up with a number to try and calculate how often she’s watched Killian step into the batters box. And that’s the thing. He never really steps out, either. It's a weird approach, but that could be the subheadline for their lives at this point and she’s mostly concerned with the power behind that swing.

—-

Word Count: Like 3.4K Rating: Teen, but with kissing! AN: This is solely for and because of @distant-rose who deserves every bit of baseball fic I have ever written and all the good things in any known universe. And speaking of universes. This is set in that Yankees one where Emma and Killian secretly date because David also plays for the Red Sox. If you’re so inclined to read more:

Batting a Thousand (the original one) || Puppy Love (the one where they get a puppy) || The One Where They Elope || The One Where Killian and David Take the Rivalry Too Far

Let’s go Yankees.

—

“Is it weird that he does that?”

Emma makes a noise — barely more than a passing acknowledgement, eyes never leaving the field because Killian is up to bat and she’d lost feeling in her left foot at some point. She’s twisted at an awkward angle, legs draped over the suite seats in front of her, but she absolutely, positively cannot move.

On pain of death.

Or baseball superstition.

They’ve got to win this game. They can’t go down by two in the series. Not with the way they’ve been hitting and they need to hit better and Emma genuinely cannot remember the last time she took a deep breath.

She fiddles with the ring on her left hand.

And the ring hanging around her neck. It’s some sort of weird pattern, the weight of Mary Margaret’s gaze boring into the back of her head and David had started pacing at some point in the fourth inning.

“He’s swinging half a second too late,” David announces, which only leads to Emma nearly strangling herself. Mary Margaret has to lean over to untangle her fingers.

“Thank you, player not currently competing in the postseason,” Emma mutters.

“Ah, that’s mean.”

“And,” Mary Margaret adds, “it’s not like David would be hitting in this series anyway. Plus—“

“Mary Margaret, if you tell me that David could really add something to the Yankees starting rotation right now, I may actually scream,” Emma warns. Elsa moves her hand over her mouth.

Her laugh is still very loud.

“Ok, that’s not what I was going to say at all—it’s not, seriously stop glaring at the field, it’s freaking me out.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she’s definitely glaring at the field and she cannot fathom a world where this game doesn’t end with a win and the season doesn’t end with another title and they got married, in the middle of the season, in secret. There are rules about happily ever after.

And sports emotions.

He’s definitely swinging half a second too late.

“See,” David mutters.

Emma grits her teeth. “I am not in the mood for I told you so, right now.”

“I mean, I didn’t say that.”

“Technically,” Elsa amends. She’s stood up as well, a hand pushing on David’s chest when he threatens to wear out the carpet in the suite. “And is no one going to answer my question? Because I know I know nothing about this painfully long sport—“

“—It is the sixth inning,” Emma interrupts.

“We’ve been here for hours, seriously. How often can you change pitchers?”

“Bring it up to Rob Manfred,” David says. Elsa swats at his shoulder that time. “Three-batter minimum for relievers. No more specialists. Pace of play.”

“Should that mean something to me?”

Emma mumbles a curse under her breath, ignoring the growing ache that’s circling around her knee and, somehow, the side of her hip. Killian rocks back on his heels in the box, hardly unbending his knees, even when he swings the bat in front of him, and Emma is dimly aware that Elsa is still talking. She’s not listening. She’s staring. Watching, really. Intently.

“Em, seriously are you listening to your brother and whatever tongues he’s started speaking in?”

“Nah, not at all.”

Elsa clicks her tongue in reproach. It doesn’t matter — Killian’s already digging his toes into the dirt again, quick taps of the bat on the front and back of the plate and—

“Seriously, why does no one else bat like this?”

Emma may growl. Although she’s not sure if that’s because Killian’s just fouled off a ball in the dirt or because Elsa isn’t making any sense, but it really may just be because of the pins and needles stretching into her calf and she snaps her jaw no less than a dozen times.

They’re pumping the live broadcast into the suite — more words Emma hasn’t really been paying attention to, what with the swirling nerves in the pit of her stomach and her heart’s apparent determination to linger in the very center of her throat.

“You know that’s not true,” Mary Margaret mumbles, finally getting Emma to pull her gaze away from home plate.

“What?”

“You cannot have an even count. That’s not how numbers work.”

Elsa sighs. “If you guys are going to keep not making sense, then I’m going to leave. Also, I totally saw Emma and Killian making out before the start of the game.”

David sounds like he’s dying.

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs. “We are married.”

She enunciates every letter of each word — as if that will make them more official or remind the world that she deserves good things and drama-free wins and, maybe, a few home runs over the short right field porch with impressive exit velocity.

“An even count does not make sense,” Mary Margaret repeats, as if they simply hadn’t heard her before. Maybe Emma can find another suite to watch the rest of the game in.

It probably wouldn’t be that hard.

Everyone at the Stadium knows her now, quick smiles whenever she’s downstairs and the security guy at Gate 4 has started waving at her, a muttered Mrs. Jones that never fails to make her heart clench and do several metaphorical somersaults in quick succession.

Killian hits a fly ball over the third base line.

And Emma slumps further into her seat. Her knee does not appreciate it at all.

“How does an even count not make sense, babe?” David asks, all placating and somehow even more married than Emma keeps reminding him that she also is.

“People say even counts on, you know, 1-1 or 2-2, but that doesn’t make sense. A 2-2 count still has more room for balls than strikes. Ergo—“

“—Oh good word,” Elsa laughs.

Mary Margaret winks. Emma’s never really noticed how high Killian’s elbow gets when he settles into his stance. He doesn’t move the bat that much, but Emma swears she can’t practically taste the energy on her tongue, which is either the most disgusting or most romantic thing she’s ever thought and—

Killian fouls another ball off.

“Battling,” David mumbles. She definitely growls that time. It hurts her throat.

He grins.

And Killian never actually steps out of the box — even when the Houston pitcher moves off the rubber, glancing at the inside of his hat for brand-new signs. David’s mumbling something that sounds like I hate when I have to do that, but Emma’s started to realize what Elsa meant.

She’s right.

Killian Jones does not bat like anyone else on the Yankees roster. Maybe even the entire MLB.

That sounds a little dramatic, though. Emma can’t get that dramatic until they win the pennant.

They’re totally going to win the pennant.

He lines his feet up again, the side of his cleat nearly brushing the back of the box, which only makes it obvious how far apart his legs move, that same distinct bend to his knees and a ridiculously high elbow and he kicks his foot out slightly when he swings.

Emma knows. As soon as the ball cracks off the bat.

She jumps up — somehow, without also managing to dislocate several joints at the same time — the ring around her neck flying up and nearly smacking her in the nose. And Emma isn’t sure what noise she makes per se, but it leaves Elsa giggling and Mary Margaret casting furtive glances at David and neither one of those matter when the ball keeps going.

Going, going, gone.

Directly into right center field.

Emma’s jumping, which probably isn’t great considering she can’t really feel any part of her left leg anymore, but Killian’s jogging around he bases and she can see his mouth move, David’s continued stream of commentary echoing between her ears.

“It’s honestly offensive how easy his swing is,” he grumbles. “Where does he even get that kind of power?”

“The making out,” Elsa responds, like it’s obvious. Emma almost chokes on her tongue.

Killian’s rounding third — a quick glance into the Astros dugout and a smile that might be half the reason Emma keeps toying with the ring on her left hand. Possibly like sixty-seven percent. Batting a thousand, or whatever.

She’s too excited to remember appropriate baseball cliches.

He glances up when he steps on home, and she knows he can’t actually see into the team suite, but it’s still exceptionally nice to think about and her heart does half a dozen front flips at that.

And there’s more game — pitches that Emma is certain raise her blood pressure and swings and misses and it’s still a save situation, so she starts pacing at some point too, but then they’re playing New York, New York and Killian’s answering questions on a post-game report and Emma’s standing in the tunnel downstairs and she absolute, positively runs.

It’s impossibly dramatic.

Especially in Game Four.

She hears Killian’s laugh before she actually looks at his face, arms around her waist and her face buried in the curve of his shoulder. He tightens his hold, only one of her feet staying on the ground.

Emma kisses wherever she can reach, which isn’t really saying much what with the awkward angle of her neck, but Killian doesn’t seem to mind, dragging his own lips over the side of her jaw.

Someone whistles.

It’s definitely Will.

“Should hit more home runs,” Killian mumbles, and it’s testament to postseason adrenaline that he doesn’t drop her when Emma starts to laugh as well.

Will might be gagging now.

Emma hums. “Something you might want to take into consideration.”

“That so?”

“I mean—I could not jump you post if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“No, no, I never once said that. Did you yell very loudly, Swan?”

“I think you’re fishing for compliments.”

“Absolutely.”

She might giggle. It’s absurd. She can’t get over the angle of his elbow when he bats. “God, that’s so stupid.”

“It’s strange, I’m not getting that compliment vibe anymore, love.”

“I yelled very loudly, scandalized my brother and I’ve got a question for you.”

Killian leans back, head nearly colliding with a wall covered in blue and white paint and the team name in enormous letters. As if they aren’t all constantly aware of where they are. History, or something. “About?”

“Well, Elsa actually brought it up, but—“

“—Jones,” a voice calls from the clubhouse, and Killian groans far louder than he should. Emma isn’t sure if that’s because of the voice or the only slightly accidental way she rolls her hips against him.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters.

“You’ve still got media.”

“I’m going to shower first.”

“They’ve got deadlines, babe.”

“I’m going to shower first,” Killian repeats. “Then I will answer questions, get ice, get a car and—“ He trails a finger up the back of her spine, making Emma twist in his hold while her teeth find her lower lip. Her breath hitches. And that smile is as different from the one he flashed in-game as it is possible for one smile to be, not quite triumphant, but maybe a little determined and she assumes she moves first.

If only because he’s still smiling when her mouth crashes into his.

Killian pulls her tighter against his chest, backing up even more so he’s got something to rest his weight on and neither one of them acknowledges the now very-clearly annoyed clubhouse voice. He tilts his head instead, mouth opening against Emma’s and tongue swiping across the lip she’d been toying with.

His hand works its way under her shirt, the same number he’d been wearing and Emma arches into the touch almost immediately. It leave hers hips canted up again, a move that is not even remotely appropriate for the bowels of Yankee Stadium, and she can only imagine that George Steinbrenner is getting dangerously close to rising from his grave and chastising them for conduct detrimental to the team.

Emma’s arms shift, fingers pushing into Killian’s hair and that only gets him to groan again, but then she’s ghosting over the side of a clean-shaven face and he has to shave every morning.

Her heart is in almost perpetuate state of upheaval.

It’s the best goddamn thing in the world.

“I’ve got to go, love,” Killian murmurs, mostly into her mouth. Also nice. Better than nice. She’s going to look up the projected distance of that home run in the Uber home.

“I really yelled ridiculously loud.”

“I’ve got no doubt. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

Emma nods — a few more quick and slightly stolen kisses, which is an almost appropriate baseball joke. Kind of. No one really steals bases anymore.

And she’s got every intention of waiting up. She does. She’s got plans and questions about batting stances, but the corner of the couch is surprisingly comfortable and the sudden lack of postseason adrenaline rushing through her leaves her questionably exhausted with eyes that refuse to watch another loop of SportsCenter.

Emma jolts up when she hears the front door close, a lock clicking behind him and one side of Killian’s mouth tugs up when he walks into the room.

She’s still wearing her shirt.

And not much else.

“That seems like cheating,” he says softly, crouching in front of the couch. She’s thinking about his knees again.

“All hail the conquering hero or whatever.”

“Is this my welcoming committee, then?”

“Something like that,” Emma laughs, pushing up and Killian moves between her legs as soon as her feet find their way back to the floor. “Did you scandalize any journalists?”

“Nah, that’s not really my game.”

“Just hitting home runs.”

“Made the Top Ten.”

“No shit.”

Killian chuckles, nosing at Emma’s cheek. “You’ve got ESPN on, Swan. Did you not see?”

“I mean I saw the real thing, so—“

“—Ah, yeah, that is true. You can’t be very comfortable.”

“It’s going ok.”

“That so?”

She nods again — suddenly finding it difficult to respond when his eyes do that impossibly blue thing, dark with something close to want, and he can’t seem to decide where to look. His gaze snaps from hers down to the ring that’s fallen back over her shirt and the one on her hand and at some point in the last few months, he’s started brushing his thumb underneath it with an almost alarming regularity. Like, for good luck or something.

Baseball players are the weirdest.

“What did you want to ask me before?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you had a question,” Killian says. “What about?”

“Oh, oh, yeah—your elbow.”

He blinks. It’s an oddly satisfying response, and Killian nearly falls over when Emma stands up, gaze shifting again to the distinct lack of pants she’s got on. She can see the tip of his tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“Like I said, El brought it up—“

“—I’d really you rather didn’t talk about Elsa when there’s so much of your leg on display.”

“Leg, singular?”

“Swan.”

She sticks her tongue out, but that only leads to an even bluer blue and she’s got to stop thinking about the way his knees bend. Maybe she’s the weird one. “Ok, ok, just—why do you bat like you do?”

“Are we on the record?”

“I mean no— because obviously I know how you bat—do not look at me like that.” He smirks, pulling his lips behind his teeth and sitting down. It’s ridiculous, his legs pulled up against his chest and his chin resting on an upturned palm. “I could probably reenact your stance in my sleep.”

“That so?”

“I will kick you.”

“I’ve got to play tomorrow,” Killian counters. “Something about prime agility at the hot corner.”

“You don’t ever come out of the batters box.”

“And?”

“And what? That’s super weird. I mean—other guys call time like twenty-six times and—“

“—No ump is letting anyone call time twenty-six times.”

She rolls her eyes, but Killian appears to have been counting on that and Emma has started bobbing on the balls of her feet. “Take my exaggerated point for what it is. All I’m saying is, you never leave the box. Other guys do. Every single pitch. They take practice swings or they refit their gloves and—“

“—I don’t always wear gloves.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Where did my elbow fit into this, exactly?”

“It’s so high up when you bat,” Emma exclaims. The projected distance of that home run was four-hundred and twenty-six feet. Eventually she will blame this tirade on that.

Killian nods, tapping his fingers on the side of Emma’s ankle until she stills. “Yeah, that’s a whole thing. It’s, uh—well, the elbow is high, so I’ve got more momentum when I swing. Physics and all that. Helps with your hips too. And the wide stance.”

“So you can stay behind the ball.”

“And you acted like you didn’t know why I did it.”

“Nah,” Emma objects, “I get why you’re doing it. I just—well, El was talking about you staying in the box and—“

“—Mind games.”

“Wait, what?”

“Mind games,” Killian repeats with a shrug. “You’re right. Almost every other batter moves around between pitches, but when I first started playing there wasn’t a ton of time to do that. I—well, Liam used to toss me batting practice and it was always kind of in between everything else we were doing and so I never thought about stepping out of the box because I was cutting into my own practice time.”

Emma presses her lips together, something different than the usual gymnastics taking place in her stomach. It’s a little softer, quieter and even more comfortable. Like their couch. But in a way that sounds nicer than that.

“And now,” Killian continues, “it drives opposing pitchers insane. Your brother, especially. He hates when I don’t step out. Because then he’s got to get back into his windup quicker.”

“You’re toying with them.”

“A little. Pace of play, you know.”

Emma laughs, absent-mindedly moving her hands like she’s swinging an invisible bat over her head. It’s admittedly a little weird as far as flirting goes, but she figures the playoffs afford for these kind of moments. And Killian doesn’t move quickly when he stands, Emma’s eyes lingering on his mouth longer than they probably should, just steps into her space and twists her against his chest and—

“Lift your elbow up a bit, love.”

“This is a cliche.”

“We’re not actually on a field, I think that sets us apart.”

She scoffs, twisting her hips. That time is on purpose. Killian groans, head dropping to her shoulder so he can nip at the bit of skin there. “You were the one who said you could reenact my stance in your sleep,” he points out.

“Well, it’s distinct.”

Killian hums, and there’s this absolutely delightful thrum in Emma’s veins — wide awake and ready to flirt. She kicks her feet out, one then the other, like she’s tapping her toes with the bat. She pushes down the visor of an invisible helmet, squaring up to a home plate that isn’t there, rocks her weight from side to side.

“I can’t believe you remembered the visor thing,” Killian mutters. “You know, Swan, I think you might be stalking me.”

“Don’t act like you’re not into it.”

“Your elbow is still too low.”

“Does this not hurt your shoulder?”

“You get used to it.” Emma grumbles, but lifts her elbow up anyway, an angle her normal, human body is not used to bending at. “Now,” Killian mutters, dropping his mouth just behind her ear, “kick your front leg out, snap your hips forward and—“

Emma swings.

Which is only a little absurd, considering they’re standing in their living room and she’s definitely heard this start to SportsCenter three times already, but they won and that’s got to count for something.

Several things.

Everything.

“Straight shot into the bleachers,” Killian says.

“Right or left?”

“Batters choice.”

“I always think it’s more impressive when you can pull one.”

He spins her — that same look from before growing more pronounced and still just as attractive as ever. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Agreed,” Killian nods, and Emma isn’t really sure how they ever get into their bedroom, but there’s probably a postseason excuses and home runs and her shirt spends most of the night in the hallway.

Emma picks it up the next morning, coffee already brewing and the SportsCenter theme obvious and she lets her legs drape over Killian’s when they both watch the number one play.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #there should probably be a tag for all these fics huh #there probably won't ever be #this is unashamedly and obviously about aaron judge's batting stance #if i ever write a baseball fic that isn't about the yankees i'm probably dead #also writing game action is my favorite

62 notes · View notes

idreamofdraco · 4 years

Note

Kiss Prompt (edit): Drinny? 2? Thanks for much ❤️

This is a sequel to my response to prompt 48. This one is also a longer one. I hope you enjoy it. :)

2. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

Since his encounter with enchanted mistletoe in the Atrium of the Ministry a few days ago, Draco has made it a point to learn everything he can about Ginny Weasley. She’d accused him of knowing nothing about the Ministry of Magic despite his extended presence there, and she’d been right.

Draco’s job is very important, but it doesn’t require much knowledge or many skills, so he has never bothered to learn the composition of each department or identify changes of power.

Deep in the Department of Mysteries, an office connects the Time and Thought Chambers. It’s where Memory is studied and also houses copies of every document drafted inside or sent to the Ministry of Magic. Contracts, memos, newsletters, personal communications, shopping and to-do lists--if it’s written on parchment, a magical copy is immediately and magically archived in the Department of Mysteries. Draco’s job is to monitor the Archive and hand-deliver archival requests to the Minister of Magic--the only person with clearance to make requests from the Archive.

After the mistletoe incident, Draco scoured the Archive for any mention of Ginny Weasley. He found a birth certificate, Hogwarts rosters from all eight years she attended school, a letter sent to the Ministry by Professor McGonagall to inform the Minister of Weasley’s abduction into the Chamber of Secrets. Another letter informing the Minister of her safe retrieval. A memo describing Weasley’s actions and injuries in the battle that took place inside the Department of Mysteries. OWL scores, NEWT scores, a certificate of completion upon leaving Hogwarts. An employment contract when she was hired as an Auror. Another when she was promoted to Head of the Auror Department. She is the youngest to lead the department in Ministry history, but it appears she received the job when several members of the department were arrested for corruption and Potter turned down the opportunity.

He had devoured as much of her life story as he could, and all the while, he had wondered why it mattered to him.

They’d kissed. It was a spectacular kiss, but they’d been forced into it and it didn’t mean anything. That doesn’t mean Draco doesn’t want to do it again.

A blank piece of parchment on top of one of the stacks that litter the floor around his desk begins to fill with words, and Draco pauses his perusal of Weasley’s promotion contract to watch the words scribble themselves across the page. As soon as the words rest, Draco turns to the rows and rows of filing cabinets that fill the room and begins the tedious process of interpreting the vague request to find some information that might be useful to the Minister.

Hours later, he emerges from the Archive and grabs a lift. The lift stops one floor up at the Atrium to retrieve new passengers, and Draco’s vision tunnels when the doors open. Ginny Weasley has just stepped out of a Floo and turns toward the security gates. A flash of her red hair peeks between the bars of the gates, enticing him with its brightness.

The grill begins to close, and before he can second guess himself, Draco shoves his way out of the full lift. He makes a beeline for Weasley to meet her on his side of the security gate.

She glances up as her wand is returned to her by the attendant, but she noticeably freezes when she spots Draco, only feet away. Then, as if as drawn to him as he is to her, she slowly approaches him.

The people around them give them a wide berth, as if sensing they would prefer to be alone. With the illusion of privacy, they keep their voices low and intimate.

“You ran away from our last encounter,” Weasley says, a smile trembling at the corners of her lips. As though she would prefer to scowl but can’t bring herself to.

“I didn’t fancy being hexed by Potter.”

“Harry is a non-issue,” she says, scowling now. Hmm, she really doesn’t like being associated with Potter. This pleases him more than it should. Or maybe just as much as it should.... Why shouldn’t Draco be glad that she wants nothing to do with Potter anymore?

She tilts her chin up a little higher, and Draco realizes how small she is, how far she has to crane her neck to meet his eyes. This feels familiar in some ways and brand new in others. Once upon a time, he’d restrained her from behind while the Carrows had thrown Unforgivables at her. She’d seemed such an impossibly small target back then, when Draco had also been in the line of fire. In that way, her size feels intimately familiar. But she faces him now, meets his eye, the opposite position she’d held in her detention days, and the experience is new, thrilling, and terrifying all at once to have those eyes on him.

This is a woman who was abducted by Salazar Slytherin’s monster and saw the inside of the Chamber of Secrets. This is a woman who led a rebellion when Potter wasn’t around to lead it for her. This was the youngest leader of the Aurors in history, and perhaps she got the job because there hadn’t been anyone else with more experience to take it, but all the reports he’d read in the Archive suggested she’d met the challenge and exceeded expectations.

She is a force to be reckoned with, and she wants nothing to do with Potter. Instead, she’s staring at Draco, almost smiling at Draco, as if she, too, wants to repeat their kiss from several days ago.

“By choice?” Draco asks, wanting to hear her say the words.

“Hmm?”

“Is Potter a non-issue by choice? Was there a choice?”

Her eyes glitter with calculation. Her lips purse in thought. Draco measures his breaths and sculpts his expression into mild curiosity, trying to hide how much he needs to know the answer. But inside his chest, his heart pounds against his ribs in anticipation.

“Yes, by choice,” Weasley says. “My choice.”

“Before or after you became the youngest Head of the Auror Department?”

Her eyes narrow. “You asked about me.”

“No,” he answers truthfully, his lips thinning into a smug smile.

“You did some research.”

“Some,” he agrees.

During their back and forth, they draw closer together. Close enough that if Draco shifts his stance slightly, their fingers will brush. Close enough that if he only lowers his head, he could kiss her again. The top of her head, her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. Wherever he wants, he could do it.

“Before.”

“Hmm?” Draco asks.

Her grin strengthens, goes from trembly to sincere. “Harry became a non-issue long before I became the head of the department.”

Back in their school days, he had loved competing with Potter. Nothing had brought him as much joy as when Draco triumphed over him, rare as those moments had been. But Draco had grown up, and in the time it had taken him to do that, he’d finally learned that some people are winners and some are losers. In any competition between Draco and Potter, Draco usually came out the loser, so it was better not to compete at all.

He’s glad he won’t have to compete with Potter over her.

At this point, there is no further distance to cover. If they move any closer, they’d be in each other’s arms.

Draco wonders whether this new attraction to Weasley is natural or a by-product of the enchanted mistletoe lingering all these days later. Something isn’t right about his fascination, about the flush in his cheeks, about his rapidly beating heart. What if he’s under the effects of magical mistletoe right now?

He looks up, halfway expecting to see the blasted plant hanging there, and then he freezes.

The blasted plant is hanging there!

Weasley looks up, too, and then groans. “Oh no....”

The bubble that he and Weasley had found themselves in now makes sense. It was caused by the people passing by avoiding the mistletoe, and Draco and Weasley had walked right into it.

Draco frowns, uncertain of the mood he’d sensed when she’d passed through the security gates. “Don’t pretend you don’t want to kiss me. I felt how you reacted last time. I see the way you’re looking at me now.”

“It’s not that,” she says, her voice low. “I don’t like not having a choice. I don’t like not being in control.”

A quiet, surprised breath escapes Draco’s mouth. Heat begins to consume him at the idea of Weasley being in control. After his initial physical reaction to her explanation, Draco understands her concern. Not having a choice--it’s an evil Draco experienced during the war, and it’s an evil he never wants to repeat.

But they do have a choice now. They can choose to kiss, or they can ask a bystander to alert the Magical Maintenance crew to free them. They still have a choice.

Draco places his hands on her hips and holds her against him. They are so close, he hears every stutter of her breath, he feels it against his heart, penetrating through his clothes, through skin and muscle and bone. She’s so small it makes him want to be careful with her, so when he lowers his head, he plants an equally small, gentle kiss against her lips. It’s a fleeting kiss, testing the waters, tasting them, trying to get a sense of whether her presumed lack of choice will deter her from deepening it.

It doesn’t.

Her response is immediate as she reaches up and takes his lips by force.

For a moment, he’s shocked by her fervor, but it’s only a momentary lapse. He’s as invested as she is, as hungry as she is, and he pours all of the attraction he’s felt over the last several days, all the want and yearning, into her.

It’s hot, it’s wet, it’s completely inappropriate for the workplace, especially for the entrance of the Ministry where so many people arrive and depart. But Draco doesn’t care. He only cares about the scent of her hair in his nose, the taste of her tongue against his, her greedy hands clutching his back, her all-encompassing warmth.

When it ends, he’s filled with regret, but there’s something in her eyes that says this second kiss won’t be their last. Maybe next time they won’t wait to get trapped under enchanted mistletoe again.

As long as they are both willing, Draco will make sure they have plenty of opportunities in the future for more kissing.

It will always be their choice.

---

Feel free to send me a number and a pairing for a kiss prompt!

I can’t guarantee that I’ll write any more, but who knows what will inspire me?

Unavailable numbers are 2, 3, 5, 10, 14, 15, 16, 22, 42, 48.

#drinny #draco and ginny #draco x ginny #dmgw #dracoxginny #my stories #ask idod #cheekytorah-laceybauthor #christmas #theme: holidays #theme: spells/curses #theme: work or job-related #ginny: ministry employee #draco: ministry employee.

21 notes · View notes

justimajin · 5 years

Text

Catching a Case of the Doctor Blues ⌠Part 13⌡

⇢ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

⇢ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ (2.3k) Doctor/Surgeon AU, Enemies to Lovers AU

⇢ Summary: When asked about Dr. Kim, a string of beautifully aligned words are ready spew from your lips. You could possibly go on and on about how his wonderful stubbornness wasn’t similar to talking to a brick wall, or how his observation skills were especially great in preparing your blood vessels for a drastic rupture or even how one gracious stare of his nearly had you on the verge of ripping your essential documents in half. But it seems that, perhaps, there was a lot more to Dr. Kim then what meets the eye…

⇢ Warnings: Dr. L/N and Dr. Kim actually having a decent conversation

⇢ Moodboard Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

⇢ Next Update: Tuesday, June 4

A patient in distress?

You can comfort them.

Reports needing to be filed?

It’ll take you only five minutes.

Conducting an intensive operation?

Save for a long string of hours, but otherwise a task that can be completed.

Inviting Dr. Kim to go get coffee with you?

A huge error sign is ringing inside your head, screaming at you for even trying to do this and screeching that there was no way a positive outcome could actually happen.

But you ignore that sign, acknowledging the advice that had been given to you these past couple of days and trying to make use of it. After all, you were even getting chance to go out somewhere that was other than work and this leads to the hope that perhaps the change of environment will allow your evening to run by smoothly and pleasantly.

However, that reassurance doesn’t do any wonders to solve the multitude of problems you keep facing.

What should you wear? What time should you get there by? What are you even going to talk about?

These questions aren’t very easily ignored and one of them roughly get an answer when you just opt out to wearing a pair of jeans combined with a simple black dress shirt. Though, as you take one glance in the mirror at your attire, you get the strange urge to just rip it all off and change back into your comfortable pajama’s; completely away from the impending interaction you had inevitably set up for yourself.

The constant glances at the clock are also taking their own toll on you when you have absolutely no clue if you should be early for polite reasons, exactly on time so you don’t appear to be waiting too long or late to show you don’t care for the meeting as much even though you clearly asked for it.

Taking one final glimpse in the mirror, you deeply inhale and try to calm your fleeting mess of emotions.

Stop freaking out Y/N, it’s just coffee with a colleague, you’ll have a nice time and strike some conversation, then you can come home and bury yourself for eternity for having this idea.

With one final stare, you crack the door open and hope to yourself that you hadn’t made a huge mistake.

You arrive exactly on time and grimace a bit on the inside when you find yourself alone standing outside the shop. But of course, you can’t expect that he’ll be there on time like you and now you begin wondering if coming late was the better optio-

“Dr. L/N?”

The voice shuts down your trail of thoughts and you’re pleasantly greeted to Dr. Kim, but taking in his appearance leaves you a bit perplexed.

It’s strange to say you’ve only seen Dr. Kim in normal clothing briefly when you were considerably sick, but even in that instance it was hard getting a glance at the doctor when you were spiking up at high temperatures and struggling to breathe from all the congestion.

However now, you can properly see him and he appears to dress similar to that specific day – a tucked in colourful shirt with elegant swirls printed on combined with a dark trench coat hanging off of him. Based on just observing him, you could tell that he was interested in high branded clothing when not adorning the white coloured coat. It’s a nice change, causing even you to admit that the man knows how to look proper even when meeting you like this.

“Shall we go inside?” He asks and you nod, slowly trailing behind him.

But then again as you reflect on the absence of the coat, it keeps dawning on you more that this encounter was definitely stepping outside of the usual day to day basis you were comfortably associated with.

The interior isn’t too bad, with freshly warm coffee being brewed in the background and the endless chitter chatter of others flowing into your ears. You’re extremely grateful for it, as it’s the only thing holding together the dead-panned silence resting within the air you share when somehow both of you have already managed to sit down and order, yet your gazes are firmly locked on your drinks.

Of course its awkward; it was something you had expected when this truly was out of the blue. Yet from all the instances you had with the man to the pieces of perspectives you have plucked out from your co-workers, you are certain that something has changed.

However, there is still a layer of built up confusion inside you on how to take the next step.

You quickly glance at him and widen your eyes when in fact, he wasn’t relaxed either with the situation just like you. His eyes occasionally drift off to the window outside and he lifts his hand ever so often to place on the side of his cheek, tapping his fingers mindlessly.

Although it was easy to tell he was nervous by the way it was radiating off his stance, your eyes drift over to the full cup of coffee before him.

“You…don’t like coffee?” You ask and his continued silence is the only indication of a response for you when he uncomfortably shifts.

Your eyes widen and with a sigh, you repress the abundant urge to kick yourself. You had asked him to come all the way here with you and yet failed to grasp that what you had in mind wouldn’t be to his liking.

But then…he could have refused…right?

You discard that thought, knowing what you needed to do now.

“Do you want to go outside?”

Although the shop was comfy with its appearance, the built up awkward tension and his natural dislike for the substance isn’t going to help you much. Your reasoning also dips into the fact that that he’s directly planted in front of you and with absolute certainty you can declare that talking like this isn’t going to be especially great for you in particular.

Heading out of the shop proves to be an idea you wished had before as the light breeze actually sooths down the inner turmoil brewing inside of you. You even acknowledge that it was doing Dr. Kim good as well when the two of you weren’t trapped and confined to a single space.

“Why don’t you like coffee?”

“Too bitter.” He explains, “It’s the same for alcohol, it’s too bitter for me.”

“Then why did you agree to get coffee?” If Dr. Kim didn’t like the idea, he could have easily expressed his dislike for it.

“Because you asked me to come.”

You widen your eyes, opening and closing your mouth several times.

“I see…” It’s all you can muster up to say.

“So you grew up in Daegu?” He makes eye contact with you and the sudden curiosity leaves you puzzled.

But you decide that there was no harm in telling him, “I lived there with my mother for a while before I was taken in by my aunt and moved here.”

“How...was your aunt?” He sounds deeply contorted in thought.

“My aunt…” Truth be told, you aren’t a huge fan of the woman, who was only borderline obsessed with the notion that she finally had someone to take care of. But it can simply be thrown away; all the love and support she had given to you when you had ultimately decided that becoming a doctor was the pursuit of your life. “Is a kind lady, she took me in when I was really young and had supported my dreams. But she could be overbearing at times.”

“Do you miss Daegu?”

You contemplate, turning to him, “Sometimes? I have a career here but I left a lot behind.” A distant look remerges in your eyes, “I think more than Daegu, I miss my childhood friend the most.”

“Friend?”

You nod, “I had moved into the house next door to his and my health wasn’t the best, but he would always come over and try to lift my spirits.” A nostalgic sigh escapes from you, “I don’t know where he is now, but I hope he’s doing well.”

You turn to Dr. Kim with a smile at the memories, but you only find his gaze locked onto you. It isn’t stern and direct as it usually was but is contorted with something more, causing you grimace at the abrupt load of sheer pain filling his eyes.

“Cherry blossoms?”

He flinches, snapping back instantly when you point behind him at the petals fluttering down. “They’re finally blooming.” You say in astonishment and an entire roster of emotions are swirling around in his eyes, from grief to utter regret. You walk closer to observe them more as they slowly dance down and one rests itself in your palm.

“Didn’t Daegu have festivals for the cherry blossoms when they bloomed?” You turn to him when you recall that he had too said he originated from there.

He hums, “Every year. And everyone would gather to see them.”

You let out a sigh, “I wish I got to see it before I left.” You shake your head, “My aunt was in such a hurry to leave.”

She was.

Because I wanted to go with you.

“I never got to see them either.” He says instead and curiously you turn to him.

“What about you? Why did you leave?”

He pauses, eyes void of anything when his lips set into a repressed line, “I couldn’t stay there anymore.” His voice comes out harsher, a darker undertone lacing it. But he notices you staring at him and he lightens it up, “I left someone behind as well.”

You hum, “Who was this person?”

“Just someone...I had a crush on.” Your eyes widen dramatically and you stare at Dr. Kim bewildered to which a small smile tugs on his lips.

“A crush on?” Your mind is going on rapid whirlwinds at the new information being thrown out when you can’t even consider associating the concept of love with Dr. Kim. However, it makes you think in a different way, that perhaps there was more to the doctor that you simply hadn’t seen of.

He nods and the smile doesn’t fade off from his features. He almost looks like a young boy who was experiencing the feelings for the first time and not the established doctor you know so well.

“I unfortunately never got to confess. Like your friend, I hope she is doing well too.” You smile at the idea and there’s a warm, mutual feeling between you two, like there’s actual air you can breathe from and it isn’t considered horrific to be within the same proximity as him.

The rest of your evening actually passes by well, from you and Dr. Kim conversing about matters in the hospital with the recent surgery you had conducted together to then shifting completely to personal topics in which he seem invested about knowing from how you grew up in your time in Daegu. Its something you simply brush off considering that it was not only your hometown but his own as well and you welcome expressing thoughts from the past that you never imagined talking about alongside the doctor.

He eventually ends up taking you to your apartment and there is an immense load of tension getting uplifted from your shoulders that the time spent wasn’t entirely awkward as you had initially wondered. Instead, it was so much more interesting to talk to him outside of your professional workplace and just to simply understand Dr. Kim on an actual personal basis.

But the one spark that brings this evening to its close, is the question that had been hanging by a mere thread for majority of the time and you assume now is potentially the best time to bring it up.

“Dr. Kim?”

You’re stationed right in front of your apartment’s door and from extreme lengths, the recollection of you dragging him inside flashes through when you had gotten sick. You decide to caste that cringing thought away completely however. For your own sanity.

He hums, his gaze not feeling like it was attempting to judge you in anyway or as if it was infuriated with your simple existence. It’s instead a comfortable gaze, eyes that are relaxed and gleaming with a tint of playfulness as they draw curiously onto you.

“I know...” You begin, wanting to word this properly, “We’ve had our differences in the past, especially at work. But I do believe something had changed.” Carefully observing him while speaking, you notice that he just nods and doesn’t attempt to inject with anything you are saying.

“So what I wanted to ask was,” You pause, scoffing slightly in the back of your mind when words Yoongi had once spoken emerge, “Can we…”

“Personally, I think the two of you could be good friends.”

“Can we possibly be friends Dr. Kim?”

#taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung doctor au #taehyung e2l au #bts taehyung fanfic #bts v fanfic #kim taehyung fanfic #bts kim taehyung fanfic #bts v fluff #bts taehyung fluff #bts taehyung doctor au #bts v e2l au #bts v doctor au #bts doctor au #bts e2l au

181 notes · View notes

pbwsports · 4 years

Text

Driveways, canyons, pools: NFL players create clever workouts

A farm. A field. A canyon. A pool. Even a driveway. As NFL players wait for a return to normalcy before the 2020 regular season begins, they have had to get creative with how and where they train.

The ripple effects of these unprecedented times -- nationwide social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic and an unknown timetable for a vaccine --have altered the professional sports landscape, and the NFL is no exception.

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell authorized the reopening of all team facilities this week, in accordance with state and local regulations, although coaches and players who are not undergoing rehabilitation are prohibited from entering team buildings. While a handful of clubs took advantage of this allowance, states such as New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Virginia, Michigan, Illinois, Washington and California are still imposing heavier restrictions that affect a dozen team facilities.

EDITOR'S PICKS

Road map to sports: How the big leagues are navigating a return

How college football is looking to answer its coronavirus testing question

Could your smartwatch detect the coronavirus?

These inconsistent regulations have also changed the responsibilities of NFL strength trainers, who have spent time remotely assessing the workout needs of players, including their access to resources, as well as acting as liaisons for online equipment purchases. NFL teams were permitted to provide each player with up to $1,500 worth of workout equipment. Nevertheless, players have had to find inventive ways to stay in shape.

Minnesota Vikings quarterback Kirk Cousins uses his parents' driveway as his outdoor gym. New York Giants wide receiver Golden Tate mowed a track into a steep canyon near his home. Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver James Washington designed a training regimen on his Texas farm. New Orleans Saintslinebacker Demario Davis has his personal trainers living with him. Giants linebacker Blake Martinez became the beneficiary of a state-of-the-art gym. And Cleveland Browns punter Jamie Gillan grabbed some beers and built a "grubby" garage gym.

Even though players' locations, living situations and resources differ, there's a lesson shared by all: There are no excuses.

Big-money quarterback staying with parents

The playful jab is uttered without warning, hurled from the driver's side of a passing vehicle.

"Go Pack, go!"

And in that moment of lighthearted jest, Kirk Cousins can only ignore it. He knows the stop sign in front of the house makes him a sitting duck every morning.

Four times a week, starting promptly at 9 a.m., the Vikings quarterback gathers equipment from the garage and arranges it neatly on the long, curved pavement leading from his parents' house to the sidewalk. Resting on a wooden chair is his laptop, connected by videoconference to his longtime personal trainer, Chad Cook, who is 450 miles away in Atlanta. This is a glimpse into what constitutes the 2020 NFL offseason.

2020 NFL offseason

"I like my privacy, so being out in the driveway, on display for the whole neighborhood to see is probably less than ideal. But desperate times call for desperate measures," Cousins said with a smile during a recent ESPN interview. "If it means a guy drives by in a truck and yells, 'Go Pack, go!' at me while we're working out, then so be it."

The manicured lawns of this Orlando, Florida, suburb serve as a backdrop to Cousins' regimen and his attempt at normalcy in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic.

It's not a "home gym" by any means, Cousins concedes, but he insists he has everything he needs: a medicine ball, jump-rope, foam rollers, free weights and a football. And, the most essential tool of all: the laptop he uses to connect with Cook.

"[Every car will] see me doing my shuffles across the driveway, or my cariocas, or doing the jump-rope or different plank exercises, core work, medicine ball, lunges -- whatever it may be. And different people honk or wave, so it's kind of fun," said Cousins, who signed a two-year, $66 million extension with the Vikings in March.

Spotty Wi-Fi is a challenge when working out outdoors, but sheltering in place with his parents was by design: The nine-year veteran and his wife, Julie, now have plenty of reinforcements when it comes to taking care of their sons, Cooper, 2½, and Turner, 1.

"I kind of laugh when I talk about having two like I have 10," Cousins joked, "because compared to other guys in the league who have three, four, five, six kids, having two is not a big deal."

Dealing with this adversity has reaffirmed his commitment to his craft. It also taught him that the Public Broadcasting Service can be a football player's, as well as a father's, best friend: "'Daniel Tiger['s Neighborhood]' on PBS can be a lifesaver."

'Strict training mode' means living with trainers

The plan was to be in Nashville, Tennessee, for a month, but Demario Davis' offseason residence has become his permanent dwelling during the pandemic. His 7,500-square-foot house, purchased last offseason, is a saving grace of sorts, equipped with enough room for his wife, Tamela, and their four children under the age of 6.

And his two personal trainers.

Davis' trainers, Jose Tienda and Piankhi Gibson, typically work with him in two-to-three-week "strict training mode" spurts before heading back to their respective homes. They'll return to Nashville soon for another extended stay with Davis.

Peyton's Places

To celebrate 100 years of pro football, Peyton Manning travels the country to see the people and places that made the NFL the NFL. Watch on ESPN+ » More »

As the 31-year-old enters his ninth NFL season -- and the final year of his contract -- he is determined not to lose ground to a youngster who might be aiming for his spot.

Mid-morning acupuncture and soft tissue work with Tienda give way to afternoon aqua training in a neighbor's pool with Gibson. Davis pauses for dinner and to help put the kids to bed. But before long, he's headed back for more body work. He crawls into bed around 12:30 or 1 a.m. on those rigorous training days.

With Louisiana still reeling from 35,316 confirmed COVID-19 cases (and 2,485 reported deaths) as of Thursday, Davis wasn't surprised Saints coach Sean Payton -- who was the first known NFL figure to test positive for the coronavirus -- announced there would not be virtual workouts, meetings or workout sessions at the team facility.

"The virtual offseason really wouldn't have fit the flow of how we operate down there," the veteran linebacker said of the Saints, who have one of the oldest rosters in the NFL. "We don't have a young team. ... He knew with our experience level, the strong leaders we have at each position, that we'd get it done as far as training."

While Davis is eager to play, he said he won't waste time guessing when the season will start.

"The pandemic don't know nothing about football season. The virus ain't just like, 'Oh, football season's coming, let me chill out,'" he said with a laugh. "So I'm going to train and stay in shape because that's just a philosophy of mine -- you stay ready at all times. But I think it's a discredit to people who are on the front lines working, and the people who are being affected by it, when we're just thinking about how fast we can get back to sports."

'Grubby little gym' becomes labor of love

The police officers approached without warning.

Jamie Gillan had been punting on a turf field almost an hour away from his Tremont, Ohio, residence, completely unaware of the state's shelter-in-place orders. With nonessential businesses closed, the Browns punter -- nicknamed "The Scottish Hammer" -- had used local fields to practice his kicking drills. That is, until he was no longer allowed.

"[The officers] were like, 'Yeah man, we want to let you punt. We love the Browns and everything, but it's just the rules,'" the Scotland-born special-teamer explained in his thick brogue.

Faced with the prospect of quarantining alone, Gillan chose to go be with family.

He made trips to the liquor store and the supermarket -- packing his truck with several bottles of bourbon for his father, "120 eggs and 16 racks of bacon" -- and then he and his German shepherd named Bear traveled seven hours to southern Maryland to stay with his parents and 19-year-old sister.

Best of NFL Nation

• Darnold will benefit from Flacco and Gore • Cards lineman mentoring at ASU • Pats' CB adding safety to his skill set • Gilbert poised to emerge for Steelers • Ravens' Queen a hit despite inexperience

The rural area around his parents' house affords him space to practice his booming kicks, and there's a "massive" field, owned by a friend, which Gillan uses, too. But the self-described "workout junkie" had to get creative with strength training. Soon his parents' garage became his gym.

Unable to buy equipment online because of limited inventory and "skyrocketing" prices, Gillan purchased old equipment from a local high school: barbells, bumper plates, 40-, 80- and 100-pound dumbbells and bands. He purchased rubber matting from a local tractor store.

He searched Facebook Marketplace for a squat rack, but he and his father, Colin, who is a former rugby player and member of the United Kingdom's Royal Air Force, came up with a better solution -- they would construct their own.

"We came back [from Lowe's], cracked open some beers and just started building it," Gillan said with a chuckle. Even with old, rusty weights, his "grubby little gym" was everything he needed.

Gillan said his resourcefulness was forged during four years playing at Arkansas-Pine Bluff, a historically black university. During offseasons when he and his teammates didn't have access to the gym, their surroundings became their workout room. They bench-pressed and squatted logs, they did dips and pullups on metal bars at local parks, and Gillan hopped fences to punt on neighboring fields when access to their football field was prohibited.

"One thing I notice about a lot of historically black colleges is they're very underfunded," Gillan said, stressing that he and other student-athletes had to be creative. "Maybe it got me prepared for this weird period."

State-of-the-art amenities ease the transition

Blake Martinez's father, Marc, had a master plan: purchase a plot of land 15 minutes from the family home in Tucson, Arizona, and build a facility for his son to train and live. It didn't take long for the idea to become Martinez's reality.

The linebacker thanks his father every day for his ingenuity, as well as his construction company.

The 18,000-square-foot facility -- conceptualized and built last year -- "has everything a football player would need," said Martinez, a 2016 fourth-round draft pick by the Green Bay Packers who signed a three-year, $30 million free-agent contract with the Giants in March.

NFL on ESPN+

Relive the NFL's greatest games, original series and more. Watch on ESPN+

The warehouse-looking steel structure contains "a miniature version of a college weight room," a full-length basketball court, a 30-by-15-yard turf field and an outdoor sand volleyball court. It also doubles as a residence, with three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen on the second level for him, his wife, Kristy, and their young daughter.

"It kept getting better and better as it kept getting built," Martinez said. He works out for two hours in person with his longtime trainer, Glenn Howell, four times a week.

But familiarity with his new franchise is a luxury Martinez, 26, doesn't have.

With New York and New Jersey being one of the epicenters of the coronavirus outbreak in the United States, Martinez doesn't know when he'll be able to travel to the facility or even meet members of the Giants organization for the first time.

"It's not like I've been on the team for a while and I know the guys already. So, it's been tough in that aspect, connecting with guys," he said.

Martinez said the pandemic has taught him "I literally have zero excuses not to show up the first day and make sure I'm 100 percent ready to go and help push all of the younger guys to that level if they haven't gotten there yet."

Making use of California canyons

Golden Tate's stunning San Diego views come at a price.

"I've just got to watch out for rattlesnakes," the Giants wide receiver said with a laugh.

When stay-at-home orders were issued in California in mid-March, Tate took advantage of his surroundings -- namely, the canyon his house is built on.

"It's not the best condition to be running in," admitted the 11-year NFL player, who mowed a 7-by-40-yard patch of grass on a steep incline. "But it'll suffice right now. It's better than doing nothing."

Team work makes the dream work! Uncle @tatethagreat & LoLo helping me get my daily catches in. Hope everyone has a great Friday! #FamilyFriday

20 people are talking about this

Tate, a married father of two small kids, purchased PowerBlock dumbbells and a Jugs machine from which he catches about 100 balls a day. He bikes at home on his Peloton and uses mountain bike trails for his aerobic conditioning. But finding a flat surface for route running has been a challenge. So, too, is self-discipline.

"Over my career, I'm so used to having someone -- an instructor or the guys around me -- push me. And right now, I'm forced to push myself," said Tate, who turns 32 on Aug. 2.

The veteran receiver played through the 2011 NFL lockout, but he said the coronavirus pandemic is unlike anything he has experienced.

"I feel bad for the first-, second-, third- and fourth-round guys who are expected to come in and help the team right away, but they're not having the same opportunity to grow as a player, not getting those reps on the field," he said.

"The offseason is when you have the time to really focus on the fundamentals of the game, the bigger picture and the details of the game. And it looks like right now we're going to show up for camp -- if we show up for camp -- in the middle of the fire of trying to figure out who's going to make the team and trying to get ready for a season. That can be overwhelming."

Strengths trainers turned investigators

With their players scattered across the country, NFL strength and conditioning coaches feel more like part-time sleuths and office managers than in-person trainers.

"We kind of went more into equipment sales and trying to be a liaison to help guys get set up and make sure they're doing the right thing," said Justus Galac, now in his seventh year as the New York Jets' head strength and conditioning coach. "What we found was, guys in the Southern states and more into the Midwest had more access than our guys in the Northeast and West Coast."

Amendola shows off his backyard workout

Danny Amendola impresses with some nifty, one-handed catches while working out with a helmet on in his backyard.

Strength trainers have been tasked with identifying what their players need from a performance standpoint to achieve their fitness goals, regardless of where they live and what resources they have access to. "Even though they might have access to a Steak 'n Shake parking lot or they might be in a third floor of an apartment," said Justin Lovett, the Los Angeles Rams' new head strength and conditioning coach.

Lovett was hired in the midst of California's coronavirus shutdown, but unlike during the 2011 lockout year, when he was on the Denver Broncos' staff, communication is permitted and has proved paramount. But there have been challenges.

"The biggest problem with the rookie class is they don't have the money that some of the older guys do," Galac said. "Not saying millions of dollars, but able to go buy equipment, pay for a trainer to take care of them, buying more food that you may normally not have to buy because the facility provides it. All those little things are adding up for these guys. And the rookies, they have no idea. And it's not their fault."

This time of year is crucial for strength staffs, not only for getting players in shape but also for getting new players up to speed with their programs. "And we've lost that," Galac said.

In fact, the Jets' weight room underwent a face-lift this offseason, complete with a new floor, turf accents and equipment. "And nobody's using it," Galac said. "It's sitting empty. The players haven't even seen it yet."

Finding space and serenity in the countryside

James Washington misses football. And, occasionally, his farm.

The 26-acre property the Steelers wide receiver purchased near his hometown of Abilene, Texas, made it easy for him to comply with social distancing rules. It also afforded him space to work out and keep in shape by way of chores. Washington, who was an agribusiness major with a concentration in farm and ranch management at Oklahoma State, finds the countryside calming. He enjoys the views of passing cars, wheat fields and cattle pastures during his eight- to 12-mile rides on his recently purchased bicycle.

His workout setup, which included an assortment of resistance bands sent by the Steelers and his high school dumbbells retrieved from his parents' house, was complete with the arrival of a Jugs machine, which he kept in the barn and carried to a flat area in one of the pastures.

ESPN Daily podcast

Monday through Friday, host Mina Kimes brings you an inside look at the most interesting stories at ESPN, as told by the top reporters and insiders on the planet. Listen

However, staving off boredom is a challenge whenever he's in Pittsburgh, a more crowded city with fewer options for keeping busy.

"When I was in Texas, I'd work out, do my virtual [team] meetings and then I'd have to find something to do cause I can't just sit in the house," Washington said last week, after he, JuJu Smith-Schuster and fellow receiver Ryan Switzer worked out in quarterback Ben Roethlisberger's home weight room. "Being on the farm really helped me a lot, because there was always something that could have been done."

Washington loves his farm so much his recent stay in Pittsburgh was short-lived. He returned to Texas on Wednesday to celebrate Memorial Day weekend with family and tend to his most recent purchase: cattle. The time away from the Steelers' facility has also given Washington time to think.

"It just doesn't feel right," he said. "Everybody feels like we should be at the facility, doing physical stuff, getting ready to go. ... Even if there's no fans, we still have to go out there and just go 110 percent, even if it would feel weird. Fans help make the game. It's really crazy to think about.

"Just being away from things, you really find out how much you miss the sport. It sucks. That's really what I figured out. That I love football." Source - ESPN

#nfl

1 note · View note

msbigredmachine · 5 years

Text

The Roman and Jaida Series, Part 2 - We Are Closer

As Roman and Jaida deal with the aftermath of their passionate encounter the night of Blizzard Raw, a new challenge arrives in the shape of a face from one person's past. The sequel to "We Are Fire".

---------------

"So..." Summer Rae started as she picked on her chicken salad in the hotel restaurant, "You hear Roman tapped Dana Brooke last night?"

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "The Kaitlyn clone from NXT? Really?" When Summer nodded, Alicia chewed her breakfast and then sighed. "Well, you can add another name to the list," she smiled, raising a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice to her lips.

"Not surprised," Summer said with a shrug. "You shoulda seen her last night. You left the bar early. She was all over him."

"And now she's been under him too," Alicia concluded. "I hope she's not expecting more 'cause that's how far she's gonna get with him."

Sitting between the two women, Jaida took her time sipping her orange juice, refusing to partake in the discussion. Inwardly she wished they didn't talk so much about the man in question. It was common knowledge that both ladies had given in to the charms of the Samoan powerhouse, but neither knew that the seamstress, only a week ago, had also done the same. And if she had her way, they would never know about it. She had no interest in being dragged into lewd conversations and comparing sexual notes about him all the time. "So…what are y'all doing for Valentine's Day next week?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Nothing," Alicia said grumpily, still smarting from her recent break-up with Wade Barrett. Jaida winced at her own insensitivity.

"We could room together," suggested Summer, "Watch shitty chick flicks and eat Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream."

Alicia laughed. "Sounds utterly pathetic, but I'm down for that." She then looked over at Jaida texting on her phone. "What about you Jay? What are you up to next week?"

Summer said, "Probably hooking up with that hunky guy she's been talking to all week. Your ex, right Jaida?"

And then there was that.

Alicia sat up straighter, looking back forth between the two women eagerly for the fresh gossip. "Ex? What ex?"

Summer faced Alicia to fill her in. "His name's Lincoln, and he's coming over today to pick her up and take her out on a date. That's why she's not eating anything."

Jaida shook her head, glancing out the massive glass window of the restaurant. "You need to quit bein' so damn nosy." She looked back inside to see Roman walking in, accompanied by former Funkadactyl Cameron, and her train of thought was temporarily derailed. "And it's not a date. We haven't seen each other in a long time. He's in town so we decided we're gonna catch up, that's all."

"Can I see a picture?" Alicia asked, and Jaida passed her phone to her. "Holy shit, he's hot! Why do you keep all this juicy shit from us, Jay? I thought we were friends," she whined. "What else are you hiding, huh?"

Oh, you don't wanna know. Taking another glance at her phone, Jaida rose to her feet and picked up her bag. "I gotta go, guys. I'll be back in an hour, two tops. Y'all don't need me, right?"

"He's here already? Aren't you gonna introduce us?" asked Alicia.

Jaida scrunched up her nose. "Hell no. I'm not bringing him near any of you," she said, pointing an orange fingernail at both of them.

Alicia shook her head. "Fine, be selfish. Get one in for us though."

"Ain't nothin' to get in. We're friends."

"For now you are," said Summer, hugging her goodbye. "Don't be too long, we've got Main Event and SmackDown tonight."

Jaida made her way out of the restaurant, walking past Roman and Cameron's table like they weren't there. Ever since their little tryst, the seamstress was doing everything in her power to keep away from Roman. It was easy to pass it off as her continued hatred for him since most of the roster already knew the two were constantly at loggerheads. But if the sexual tension was meant to dissipate after their night together, it hadn't gotten the memo yet because if anything it seemed to get even worse for Jaida. She had her game face down pat in public, but behind closed doors was a different scenario. She couldn't get him or the amazing sex they had out of her mind or her dreams; sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night sweating and, to her horror, her hand between her legs. The man himself wasn't making things any easier. The backbiting hadn't stopped, but his remarks were more innuendo-laden and the look in his grey eyes was more loaded than usual. She hadn't forgotten about him wanting her to stay the night. To her knowledge, none of the girls he fucked slept over. Jaida could only chalk it down to his vulnerable state of mind at the time. If she hadn't been the one to show up at his door, it would have been someone else and he would have told her the same thing. He'd probably said that to Cameron and now there she was by his side. He'd moved on to the next one so it was time she moved on too.

Outside the restaurant she looked for an approaching vehicle, as was said in the text message, and rolled her eyes with a huge smile when a black stretch limousine pulled up in front of her. Only one person she ever knew was capable of such a thing. The back door opened for her and she shook her head with a grin.

"Some things never change," she muttered. She climbed into the limo, unaware of the narrowed pair of grey eyes that had watched everything from inside the restaurant.

------------------

"You look different," Jaida observed as she ate her chicken salad. The handsome man across the table from her did look different. His head was shaven and he had this five o'clock shadow thing going on that looked really good. He'd put on a bit of lean muscle, filling the black business suit he was wearing very well and further accentuating his good looks.

Lincoln flashed her a familiar thousand-watt smile as he sipped from his water glass. "In a good way, I hope?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Still stylin' and profilin' I see, with the limo and everything."

"What can I say? Life's been good. And you are still as beautiful as the last time I saw you," said Lincoln.

Jaida smiled at her ex-boyfriend. "You're too kind. It's been a while." She'd missed him and had thought about calling him a number of times. When she saw the email he sent her a couple of days ago, they got to chatting again like they'd never been apart. It turned out he was in town this week, so they agreed to meet today.

"It's been too long, actually. I've missed you constantly badgering me about the horrible sneakers I used to wear to work," Lincoln laughed, though Jaida didn't miss the tinge of longing in his voice as he spoke. He continued before she could make a comment. "And speaking of work, how's it going? WWE, huh? Never imagined you being there."

"I know, right?" Jaida went on to chronicle her interesting several months working for the biggest wrestling promotion in the world, designing and making ring gear for the WWE ladies. It wasn't the glitzy catwalks of Milan and Paris that she always dreamed of, but the squared circle of the WWE was just as huge a global platform to show off her talents. Lincoln listened attentively, as she expected him to. He always was a good listener.

"Wow, that sounds amazing," he said, nodding approvingly. "You're obviously having a blast."

"I am. And what about you, Mr. Chief Marketing Officer? How's it going over at our favorite magazine?

Picking up his cutlery, he focused on a piece of his steak. "No idea. I left."

Jaida's eyes grew wide. "What? When?"

"About three months after you did. I felt terrible about the way the company treated you before you left. It takes two to tango, and it wasn't like any of those hypocrites weren't doing the exact same thing we were doing."

Jaida remembered it like it was yesterday. Only eighteen months ago they were colleagues. She was his secretary at her last job at a world-renowned fashion magazine, and it was the reason her poker face was as foolproof as it was today. About six months into her job they became romantically involved and it went on in secret for over a year, until a jealous ex-girlfriend of Lincoln's exposed their relationship. The fallout was so humiliating that it prompted Jaida to sever all ties with Lincoln, uproot herself from L.A. and migrate to the East Coast. She needed space and time to regroup and rebound, and it eventually came in the form of the job offer from the WWE.

"So, I handed in my resignation letter and was gone by the summer," Lincoln went on. "I couldn't take it anymore. Plus I got tired of being the son of the owner of the company. It was a crutch I didn't need and it ended up wrecking my chances with the woman I loved," he said, staring intently at Jaida as her eyes softened. "So yeah, I seized that opportunity to move on and do something else with my life. So I got my own business now. It's not a Fortune 500 company, but it's doing great."

"You're your own man now. The ladies must be falling over their feet to get to you, more so now than ever," said Jaida.

Smiling, Lincoln shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not interested in any of ‘em."

"Hmm."

Their eyes locked together in an intimate stare. Leaning forwards, Lincoln rested his elbows on the table. "So…who's the lucky guy I have to contend with now? Or maybe not, seeing how gargantuan they all are," he added, chuckling at his little joke.

A certain Samoan flitted through her mind that very moment, and she immediately chastised herself, horrified. "There's no one. Free as a bird," she answered.

"I guess that's good for me, right?" He looked right into her eyes, and Jaida knew that look anywhere. Swallowing, she shook her head. "Linc-"

Reaching across the table, he took her hand in his own. "I've missed you, Jay-Jay. I think about you every day, and I wish things didn't end the way they did," he said. "I want to start over with you as friends. I know it's too soon for anything more, but I'd really like to have you back in my life." He kissed the back of her hand. "So what do you say? Is that okay?"

Jaida still cared about Lincoln. In their time together they had developed a strong connection, physically and emotionally. Having not heard from him since leaving her old job and being so busy with the WWE slowly diminished that connection. A lot had changed between them, but starting again as friends didn't sound like a bad idea. Maybe eventually, they could grow to become something more again.

"Okay."

More importantly, maybe it could help her forget about him.

-----------------

Looking around the vast Catering area, Roman's gaze fell upon the entryway, where a young dark-skinned woman strolled in arm-in-arm with Natalya. "Who's the girl? Been seein' her around lately," he asked Seth next to him.

Seth looked up, and then looked back down at his phone. "Jaida. Sandra's new assistant," he answered, "Heard she came in from one of those chick magazines. The girls have been raving about her sewing skills or something."

So she was a seamstress. It didn't really surprise the Pensacola native. One could tell she was fashion-forward with the way she dressed, though there was an effortlessness about her style that he liked. She wore a baggy monochrome chiffon blouse with a short black pencil skirt and ankle strap heels, a maroon bowler hat perched on her head. He could tell that she had a cute little body; perfect for twisting into various raunchy positions...

"She's a cool chick," Dean spoke up, biting into a chicken leg. "Seems a little high-maintenance though. Like, buy her fake designer shit and she'll call you out."

"Sounds like every other broad in this joint. She'll fit right in," Seth laughed, saw the look on Roman's face, and groaned. "Oh God…dude."

Roman was still looking at the woman, but an eyebrow was raised for his Shield brother's benefit. "What?"

"I see that fuckin' look in your eye, man. You're makin' a play for her already."

"And?"

"Do you always have to nail every woman that passes through this company?"

"Hey, they come to me. Who am I to deny them?"

"One of these days one of 'em will kick you in the balls, or break your finger when you grope them. I guarantee it."

The trio finished up their breakfast and then went their separate ways. With nothing to do for another hour, Roman decided to search for the newbie, wanting an up-close look for himself. Who knew? Perhaps it could be the start of a beautiful…friendship…between them.

He found her backstage outside the women's locker room reading a magazine. A cocky smile tugged his lips. "Hi."

She looked up, and Roman was instantly drawn to her eyes; wide and almond-shaped with a mix of green and grey that he had never seen before. Her pretty face was contorted into a frown.

He extended his hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Roman."

She glanced down at the outstretched hand. A second or two passed before she put her hand in his for a quick handshake. "Jaida," she said coolly before returning to her reading.

Roman quietly blew out a breath. They always tried to put up a front, only for their resolve to crumble soon afterwards. She would be no different. "Jaida. Beautiful name." He leaned against the table next to her. "So how you doin'?"

"Good," she replied uninterestedly.

"May I ask why a pretty lady like yourself is sitting all alone?"

Jaida shrugged. "I don't know," she said, refusing to look at him. "Definitely not to listen to the cheesy one-liners you're about to throw my way."

"Cheesy one-liners? Come on."

"Yeah. The other day I saw you chatting up one of the girls while she dreamily twirled her hair in her finger," said Jaida. "If you expect the same from me, sorry to disappoint. I'm not very good at playing the dumb floozy."

Roman had an amused look on his face. "I think we're starting off on the wrong foot."

"No, I'm perfectly fine where we've started. Shouldn't you be off somewhere keeping your little girlfriends in check or something?"

"I don't have a girlfriend, sweet pea. I'm free as a bird."

"It's Jaida, not sweet pea," she snapped.

"I kinda like sweet pea. Suits you. So if that's what I want to call you, that's what I'ma call you."

"Because you always get what you want, don't you?" Finally, she turned to face him, a look of annoyance on her face.

Roman stared at this mouthy little woman, growing annoyed himself. No woman had ever talked to him this way before. Ever. "Hey, I'm trying to be nice here. There's a lot of ladies, and I mean a lot," he bit back, "that are dying to be in your place right now, getting all this attention I'm giving you."

"Then go find them and leave me alone."

"Why all this hostility, sweet pea?" Roman said, unwilling to give up just yet. "I mean, we're going to be working together; we might as well take this time to get to know each other, ya know?"

Jaida rolled her eyes. "I think I know you just fine, Reigns. But thanks for the offer."

"So you do know my name."

"I don't have a choice. You and your buddies seem to be the shit around here. Though I don't see why," she said, giving him a disapproving look up and down.

"You got quite the mouth on you, sweet pea," Roman said, moving closer. Raising his hand to touch her cheek, his voice dropped an octave. "How 'bout you show me what else that pretty little mouth can do later tonight?"

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Then, she did something he never in a million years expected her to do. She twisted her face and sank her teeth into his index finger. Hard, causing him to yelp in pain.

"Oww! What the fuck!" he cried, shocked. Did this bitch just bite him?

"My name is Jaida. I don't want your so-called attention, so unless you got problems with your ring gear I suggest you stay the hell away from me," she warned. With that she stormed away, her high heels clicking angrily on the concrete.

Rubbing his finger gingerly, Roman narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. "Crazy bitch," he murmured angrily. She had another thing coming if she thought he was going to leave her alone. She hadn't seen the last of him, not by a long shot.

As pissed off as she had made him, he was also very much aware of how much this little altercation had aroused him.

Roman was used to having Jaida Leonard on the brain most of the time; thinking up new ways in which to get on her nerves and generally make her life miserable. Fucking her was also somewhere on his to-do list, and he figured that once he did that, she would lose her appeal. But he had fucked her, more than a week ago, and since then all he could fucking think about was her.

Her poker face impressed the hell out of him though. She was damn smooth about it too. Other girls would have acted out, hunting him down demanding answers or openly casting pathetic, lovesick glances from a distance. Nothing from her. Even when he stoked the fire by dropping obvious hints or parading another girl on his arm, she completely ignored him, and it was starting to aggravate him. He preferred it when they were constantly fighting. He knew something was very wrong with him when he saw her drive away in that limo with that guy in the back seat earlier this morning and his chest felt clogged. A tingling sensation settled in his stomach every time he thought about her or looked at her, as opposed to his groin. That wasn't a good thing. Tingling sensations belonged in his dick, not in his stomach or his chest or anywhere else.

This was all her fault. Why did she have to be so goddamn irresistible?

Turning a corner, he came to an abrupt stop and rolled his eyes. Speak of the damn she-devil.

At the end of the hallway, Jaida stood by her sewing station, engaged in friendly conversation with Lana. Keeping himself hidden from their view, he took the chance to observe the seamstress. Dressed in a sleeveless yellow crop top, a high-waist A-line skirt and black wedges, her curled hair framing her face and shoulders, she looked like a doll. Lana then waved and continued down the other end of the hallway while Jaida disappeared round a corner. Looking around to ensure he wasn't being watched, Roman followed her.

This was crazy. He'd banged her. He'd gotten what he wanted; he had no clue why he still craved her attention but here he was, scurrying after her like a big-ass rat.

He found the seamstress searching for something in a closet, that backside he fantasized about in his downtime poking out, causing his tongue to dart out over his lips. Quietly, he came up behind her and placed both hands on her hips.

She jumped with a shriek, spinning around. "Jesus, Reigns! You fuckin' scared me!"

"Sorry." The stupid little grin on his face indicated that he was anything but.

Rolling her eyes, Jaida subtly stepped back from him. "Did you want something?"

"You know the answer to that, sweet pea," he replied. "I was wondering earlier; do you get fancy limos to come pick you up in every town we're in? You gotta hook me up with that shit."

Laughing, she placed a bunch of folded clothes on top of the equipment crate. "And here I thought you couldn't detach your face from some trick's pussy long enough to see what's goin' on around you," she said.

"Funny. So who was he?"

Jaida met his eyes with a smirk. "Why do you care? Is someone jealous?" She threw the word out there to see what his reaction would be.

Roman snorted derisively. "You wish."

Pursing her lips thoughtfully, Jaida leaned against the equipment crate and crossed her arms. "He and I used to work together."

"And let me guess, y'all hooked up." Her prolonged silence and averted gaze told him much more than he expected. "Oh, you dated. Interesting," he sang. "You gotta thing for your co-workers huh?"

Jaida scoffed. "I do not have a thing for my co-workers. And just 'cause you and I fucked one time doesn't automatically mean I have a thing for you," she said, unable to keep the agitation out of her voice. "And who are you to talk about co-workers when you're the one fucking half the girls on the damn roster? I see Cameron's the latest victim. Go find your new girlfriend why don't you?"

"She's not my girlfriend. And if I wanted to see her I'd be where she is right now." Taking her by the hand, he maneuvered her out of public view and into a darkened area where more equipment crates were stationed. He then backed her up against the one furthest in. Jaida's eyes were wide the entire time. "Reigns, what are you doing?" she demanded, watching him place his hands back on her hips.

"What's it look like I'm doing?"

"You can't! And someone could see us!" she hissed, glancing over her shoulder cautiously.

"No one will see us, look where we are. And even if so, what's wrong with that?"

The seamstress glared at him. "The whole world don't need to know you've sank your claws into me."

"Ain't the only thing I've sank into you, is it sweet pea?" he whispered with a devious smirk. He loomed over her, his big body surrounding her and invading her space. Being so close to him was both making her uncomfortable and turning her on, and she wasn't sure which emotion too choose. She wanted to push him away, and at the same time she wanted him so badly she could taste it. Avoiding his eyes, she said, "You've already fucked me, Reigns. What more could you possibly want from me?"

Roman caught her chin, gently tilting it up so that their eyes met again. "I told you I'd have you again, and I always make good on my promises. You gonna pretend you don't want that too? Huh? You wanna act like you don't think about the night we shared? Because I know you do."

Without warning, he lifted her up and sat her on top of the equipment crate, wedging his body between her legs. He pressed himself against her, and his nose dipped into her hair, inhaling its appealing scent. Reflexively Jaida put her hands on his chest, but not to push him away. She felt the firmness of muscle, the heat exuding from his olive skin. "Reigns…" she drawled.

"I remember everything clearly, baby girl," Roman said in her ear. "Your hot breath on my neck, your tongue in my mouth; the way you moaned my name over and over as your tight-as-fuck pussy clenched my dick…I get fuckin' hard every time I think about it." He ran a hand up her bare thigh, a small smile forming when she shivered in response. "Wonder if that man of yours makes you feel like this," he mused, his gruff voice even huskier, his teeth nibbling her earlobe. "If his touch makes you shiver the way mine does."

Jaida had forgotten how to breathe. Visions of their night of passion sparked wildly in her mind, which was now hazy from the kisses Roman was trailing up the left side of her neck. His hand boldly made its way into her crop top, leaving goose bumps on her skin in its wake. As he placed his palm over her right breast and squeezed, a moan she couldn't control escaped her lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist and used her leg strength to draw him closer, weaving her fingers through his hair. He continued to suckle her neck, the spiky hairs of his goatee tickling her skin. His hand slipped inside her skirt to cup her mound, rubbing her through her dampened panties. "Wow, sweet pea. All this wet pussy for me?" he asked.

Before she could conjure up any coherent words to respond, he slipped two fingers inside her and stroked her wet core. She rewarded him with a long moan and eyes that fluttered shut. He plunged his fingers deeper, brushing the pad of his thumb over her clit, and she squirmed in a very satisfying way. He kept at it, relishing the sounds of her heavy breathing, then pulled his fingers out, pleased at the way she whimpered in protest. With a smirk, he pushed back in, curling his fingers inside her.

"Fuck, Roman…" It was pleasure overload for Jaida. Her forehead rested on his shoulder, clutching his massive biceps to support her weakening frame. Her entire body was on fire and tingling from head to toe. His mouth found hers the instant she lifted her head. They kissed fervently, the sound of their lips meeting and parting filling the heated silence. He drew her tongue into his mouth, sucking hard on it. His fingers plunged deeper, thrusting faster until she was moaning and rocking her hips against his hand. His arousal pressed insistently against her inner thigh. She was helpless, only cognizant of her raging need for him. She let herself luxuriate in his touch, enjoying the boldness of it, the intimacy, the sensuality of him confidently exploring her body.

The shrill, off-putting sound of her cell phone ringing permeated through the thick haze of passion. They were both more than willing to ignore it, but a few more insistent rings forced Jaida to break the kiss. On the equipment crate, Lincoln's name lit up her phone screen. Shifting so that Roman’s fingers slipped out of her, she pushed off the crate, landing on her feet, and picked up the device. "Gotta take this," she muttered dazedly, a hint of an apology in her green eyes.

Roman cleared his throat. "Whatever." He took a step back from her, hating how disappointed he felt at that very moment. But as he turned to leave, he felt her grab his arm. With her phone at her ear, she pulled his hand up to her mouth and sucked the fingers that had been inside her. He swore under his breath as he watched her taste herself, her tongue rolling around his fingers, and the erotic contact lit a fire within the Pensacola native like never before.

Jaida forced herself to let go of him, and with a wink, she walked away, more turned on than she already was. As she refocused on talking to Lincoln, one thought ran through her mind.

Boy, am I in big trouble.

---------------------

Valentine's Day

"Jaida! Presents for you!"

At the sound of Sasha Banks’ chirpy voice, Jaida turned around, her perfectly manicured eyebrows coming together in confusion, and it took her a few seconds to register the items in Sasha's toned arms; a sizable bouquet of red roses wrapped in green paper, and a large box of chocolates. "For me?" she said. She wasn't expecting any gifts.

"Yeah, and guess who sent them. Starts with an L, ends with an N," the Boss said, wiggling her eyebrows at the seamstress.

Unable to suppress a smile, Jaida reached for the bouquet, scooping it out of Sasha's hands and bringing it close to her face to inhale their scent. "Oh wow. They're beautiful," she said.

"I know right?" Sasha agreed, reading the card that came with it. "My darling Jaida, so happy to have you back in my life. Thinking of you now and always. Love, Linc." She sighed dramatically. "Honey, you are so lucky I'm with my man. I'da found a way to steal that hunk from right under your nose."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Jaida chuckled, touching one of the roses, feeling its velvety softness beneath her fingertips. At the thought of Lincoln, she felt a pleasurable tingle within her. Things were going well between them. They weren't officially dating, but it was heading in that direction. Recently they kissed for the first time in over a year, and while it was as nice as she last remembered, it didn't quite compare to that of a certain long-haired, tattooed individual.

Yeah. Him. She still couldn't get him out of her head, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

The hairs on her arm suddenly stood on end, and she felt the sensation of being watched. Glancing up, she found Roman's gaze on her. Of course. He was a number of feet away but she could still see his face clearly. His expression was unreadable, making her wonder what was going through his head at that moment. They were back to ignoring each other, right after their make-out session the night of the tapings. She thought she had him figured out but she found him more befuddling than ever.

Jaida remembered the first time she laid eyes on him, all those months ago. She'd gotten lost in the Joe Louis Arena in Detroit and stumbled upon him in a deserted hallway, making out with some girl, who she now knew was Eva Marie. The two were clearly on the way towards more explicit activity so she'd quietly gone the other way unseen. In retrospect, she wasn't very pleased that she was now lumped together with the redhead as one of his probably many backstage frolics. Only hours later he was flirting with Summer, the woman twirling her finger in her hair as she stared adoringly at him. Jaida knew what he was all about from then on. He was a guy that evidently got what, or who he wanted whenever he wanted, and she wanted no part of it. She'd lashed out at him when he hit on her, but deep down she knew that sooner or later they would cross paths in more ways than one, and she was right. She finally understood the hype though, and she was coming to terms with the fact that she may like him a little more than the boundaries of mere physical attraction permitted. But she knew better than to let her feelings cloud her judgment and dive into something she could not get out of. She knew what she was like. If she slept with him again she would fall, just like she'd fallen for Lincoln. And unlike Lincoln, there was no certainty that the feeling would be mutual with Roman. After all, what made her so special that she was the one, of all the women he'd been with, he would change his habits for?

This was not a fairytale. Life did not work that way and she didn't feel like waiting around crossing her fingers and hoping that it did. So yeah, distancing themselves from each other was for the best. Now she had to figure out how to distance herself from him mentally.

---------------

After a long evening, Jaida was relaxing on her bed in the hotel room she shared with Summer, biting into a piece of Lincoln's truffles and listening to her R&B playlist on Pandora when there was a knock on the door. A hotel employee stood outside, holding a long rectangular box sealed with a thin red bow. "I have a delivery for Miss Leonard?"

Jaida was pleasantly surprised as she took it from him. "Thanks."

"No problem, ma'am. Happy Valentine's."

She said the same to him and shut the door. She scanned the box for a moment, a smile on her face as she pulled off the ribbon and opened the box. Nestled inside was a long, single-stem red rose. She took it out and inhaled it. Aw, he was so sweet. Taking her phone, she dialed up his number, grinning giddily.

"Hey. Was just thinking about you," Lincoln greeted.

"As I you," Jaida said, making her voice as seductive as possible. "Someone's been generous today."

"Oh, really?"

"Uh huh. Flowers and candy in the morning, a single rose this evening…you're spoiling me, Linc."

Lincoln chuckled. "Trust me darling, I'd like nothing more than to take credit for something that's made you so happy," he said, "but not this time. The rose didn't come from me."

It was like a record had scratched in her head, bringing everything to a screeching halt. "Wait, you didn't send this?"

"No babe. Looks like you got a secret admirer. I'm not surprised, beautiful girl like you…"

Lincoln was still talking, but Jaida could no longer hear him. Her heart was pounding wildly, slamming against her ribs. Lincoln hadn't sent her the rose. And if it wasn't Lincoln…

And then she saw it. A small white card inside the box. Jaida picked it up and flipped it open, her eyes growing wide when she read the words written inside.

Happy Valentine's Day, Sweet Pea.

An unpleasant foreign sensation began to envelope her, making her lightheaded, but Jaida fought it off so she could refocus on Lincoln, hoping, praying, that her voice didn't betray her true sentiments. "Oh, uh, guess what? I just found the little note that came with the box. Turns out the rose is for Summer. I found it on my bed so I assumed...My bad." She forced a giggle, trying to sound embarrassed. "I better put this back then."

"You sound disappointed," said Lincoln. "If you want I could send you another bouquet."

Jaida forced a smile into her voice. "Oh no, that's okay. You've done more than enough for me." She feigned a loud yawn, desperate to get out of this awkward situation. "I should go to bed. I have an important meeting tomorrow."

"I'll let you go. I got some work to finish up myself." He paused. "I miss you."

She could tell there was something else he wanted to say. "Miss you too. Goodnight."

As soon as she hung up, she lunged for the hotel room phone on her nightstand and with trembling hands dialed a room number. A familiar deep timbre resounded from the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing sending me flowers, Reigns?" Jaida hissed into the phone. "Are you fuckin’ kidding me?"

Roman's voice danced with amusement. "Is that your version of a thank you, sweet pea?"

"No jackass! What are you playing at? If this is your idea of a joke it's not funny."

"You are one ungrateful broad, you know that?"

Jaida frowned. "And you are an ass. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Every day, baby. Now where's my thank you? I'm waiting."

Rolling her eyes with a heavy sigh, she relented, forcing herself to calm down. "Thank you for the rose. It's beautiful," she said. "Happy?"

"Very."

Silence fell between the two of them for a long moment. "What'cha doin' right now?" Roman finally said, his voice softer.

A warm smile crossed her features. "Nothing. I'm in my room. Summer went off with Fandango I think, so I'm all alone tonight."

"Yeah, I saw them. You sound like you're having fun."

"Come over," she blurted out.

Again, it went quiet, and Jaida immediately regretted opening her mouth.

"Boyfriend ain't around to tuck you in?" Roman taunted, and the teasing rumble of his baritone voice sent embarrassment through her. "You know what, forget I said anything," she mumbled.

"Make up your mind, woman," Roman chuckled. "You want me to come over or not?"

Jaida chewed her bottom lip. This was wrong. So wrong. And yet it was all she wanted. "Yeah."

"Fine. I'll be there in ten minutes. Wear something pretty so I can take it off of you." And he hung up without another word. Jaida stared at the phone before slowly replacing it on the receiver. Oh boy. There was no turning back now. She might as well get dressed. Or rather, undressed.

When the door opened, Roman walked in, holding up a bottle of Rosé and two glass flutes. "I brought champagne. Hotel provided a complimentary bottle to all the Superstars." He smiled as he looked Jaida over. She was dressed in a thigh-length satin red robe, concealing her curvy frame, and her wavy hair cascaded down over her shoulders. She had on a pair of sinful-looking heels that pumped lust and desire through the Samoan's blood. He noticed her hardened nipples through the thin material of the robe, and he suspected it was all she was wearing. "You look smokin', doll."

So did he, even in a simple black tank top and grey sweatpants. The visible dick print, along with his smoldering gaze, brought a blush to her cheeks. Fuck, he was sexy. "Thanks. So do you," she said. "So who else did you send roses to today? Must've spent a lot of money trying to cater to all of your women."

"I sent roses to two people today, one of them being my mother. You can figure out for yourself who the other person is." Setting the champagne and the glasses on a nearby table, Roman turned and saw Jaida standing right in front of him, her hands slowly tugging at the belt around her waist.

“I’m flattered,” she said, her voice low as she pulled her robe open, “But we ain’t here to talk.”

She eased the robe off her shoulders, and as it slid to the floor, Roman felt his mouth go dry. She was completely naked, wearing nothing but those devilish heels and an even more devilish smile. He thought a lot of women were hot, but Jaida was a thing of beauty all to herself. “Jaida,” he whispered, casting his gaze hungrily over her body.

Jaida shivered when he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her flush against him. With his deep, husky tone and that 'I'ma sex you so good' expression on his gorgeous face, the only thing she wanted to feel right now was that big dick of his inside her. As Roman's lips met hers in a string of small, fleeting kisses, desire and something else she couldn't place shot through her veins. Throwing caution to the wind, she pushed her mouth against his, exploring him with her tongue. She reached down to stroke his dick through his sweatpants, smiling when he groaned in response. His hands snaked around her butt and thighs to lift her up into his arms. She thought it was so hot how easily he did that. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Jaida returned every one of his heady kisses. She held onto him as he blindly staggered over to her bed without breaking their kiss. He sat on the bed and raised his arms to allow her pull off his tank top. Her fingers then raked through his ponytail, setting his hair loose while he fondled her breasts. His touch sent heat instantly flooding through her body. She began to grind her ass into his crotch slowly, feeling him harden against her. With another lustful growl Roman took her hair in one large fist and tugged back, exposing the tender skin of her throat. She inhaled sharply as he attacked the sensitive spot, his mouth hot and delicious on her flesh. His fingers traced the blue rose tattoo on her breast. "Your tattoo's so hot," he observed.

Before she could respond, he scooped her breast into his mouth and sucked, squeezing the other with his free hand. Jaida swore softly and tipped her head back, welcoming the sensations he invoked within her. As he pulled back, she caught sight of the open box of chocolates on the nightstand. She glanced at Roman and then back at the box, smiling as a delicious idea popped up in her head. "Lay back," she instructed.

Casting her a questioning look, Roman did as she asked, and Jaida relieved him of the rest of his clothes and mounted him. Picking out a few pieces of chocolate, she squished them together between her hands and then offered her index finger to him. Roman took the digit in his mouth and sucked slowly, never taking his eyes off her face, and his darkened gaze sent shivers down her spine. Her palms smoothed over his upper body, spreading chocolate over him like paint on a canvas, and she swirled her tongue over his heart, while Roman looked on hungrily. "Nice. I like where your head's at, baby girl," he grunted, rubbing her back lazily.

"I knew you would." She licked along his body, placing wet kisses on his stomach, accompanied by slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue. She heard his hiss of pleasure when she dipped it into his navel. "Mm babe, you taste so good," she said, tracing his abs with the chocolate and licking it off.

Roman was fixated on her every move, his lips parted and his breathing labored as she made her way further down, her seductive tongue causing goosebumps to break out all over his skin. Jaida paused at the scar from his surgery a few years ago. Looking at him, she placed a gentle kiss on the scar, and the unexpected gesture sparked a ripple of affection through him. She moved down to his dick, which stood proudly at attention. Her tongue swished briefly over her lips as she stared at it, then squeezing some more chocolate onto her hand, she closed her fist around him, slowly stroking up and down, smearing chocolate from the base up to the plum-shaped tip. Roman moaned his approval at her touch. He watched his dick disappear into her mouth, her sigh vibrating against his most sensitive skin. He caressed her hair, pushing it back from her face. "How does my dick taste, sweet pea?" he asked.

"It tastes great baby," she answered before engulfing him again, his girth stretching her mouth.

"Mmm. That's right beautiful, suck my dick." His voice was a gasping whisper as she ate the chocolate off his penis, sparing no inch of him. The flat of her hot tongue gave long strokes along his shaft and balls, her lips sliding and pulling along his coated erection. "Fuck, so good," he groaned, his grip on her hair tightening.

Jaida continued her ministrations for several seconds, sucking, tonguing and stroking him. Then, without warning, she took him all the way in the back of her throat. The sensation that surged through him caused his hips to buck off the bed instinctively. "Jesus, Jay…wow." His head fell back, mouth open and panting with pleasure. Damn, she was good. The way the tip of his length kept hitting the back of her throat, the way her hands massaged his balls nearly tipped him over the edge. She started to suck him harder and faster, and he knew if she carried on he was going to explode. He grabbed her shoulders roughly, and with one twist of his body, she was the one on her back while he loomed over her.

"My turn," he announced, smirking at the challenging expression on her green eyes as she was aware of how worked up she had made him. He would wipe away that smug look soon enough. Taking a piece of chocolate of his own, he surveyed her thoughtfully. "Now, where do I start?" he mused.

She gathered her hair up and pointed at her neck. "Here."

Smiling, Roman rubbed the chocolate over the spot and sucked on the sensitive skin. He expected her satisfied sigh and got it. He cupped her bare breasts and lathered both with chocolate, paying particular attention to her tattoo. Jaida bit back a moan as he leaned down to slowly lick the treat off her twin mounds. He liked her tits; they were soft and supple and fit into his hands very nicely. He took his time, smiling at the way her breath hitched each time his teeth pulled her hardened nipples. He licked down her stomach, her thighs, her legs, slurping and sucking the chocolate off her skin. He returned to the juncture between her legs and smirked at how wet she already was. He slipped a clean finger inside her before withdrawing it and putting it in his mouth. "Best taste of the bunch," he remarked, then he dipped his face between her thighs, his tongue swiping greedily at her pussy.

With her chocolate-covered hands caressing her breasts, her heavy breathing intensified as his mouth pressed further into her. She reflexively lifted her hips to grind against his face, but he abruptly shoved her hips back down to the bed. Holding her legs wide apart, he thrust his tongue deep inside her. A loud, guttural groan escaped Jaida as hot pleasure surged through her system. The feeling of his tongue relentlessly stroking her was driving her insane.

Having his fill of her feminine essence for now, Roman crawled over her body and met her face to face once more. Jaida promptly pulled him down and crashed her lips to his. There was something extremely erotic about the way their nude bodies were streaked with confectionery and writhing against each other. Their tongues tangled together hungrily, and Jaida couldn't get enough of the chocolate flavor mixed with his natural taste. She wanted…no, needed, more of it, more of him.

Roman himself had reached his breaking point. Reaching for the condom he'd brought along, he sheathed himself in record time. Laying Jaida on her side, he sidled up behind her in a spooning position, then slid his knee between her legs. They both moaned as he pushed his dick through her entrance, sliding slowly inside her. She was so hot, so wet and ready for him.

"Take me," she gasped, rolling her ass back against him. The wait was becoming unbearable. "I need you, Roman. Fuck me."

He didn't need telling twice. He snapped his hips once, driving his dick hard into her, and reveled in her scream, which quickly became a groan of pleasure as he started moving in and out of her. He twisted her face towards his and muffled her moans with hot, wet kisses, as she reached up to tangle her fingers in his long locks. Her breasts were at his hand's mercy, molding and massaging, plucking the hardened nubs of her nipples. His thrusts were deep and commanding; her moans were throaty and orgasm-inducing. Then, as she was nearing her release, he slowed down, going in and out of her in a tortuously measured tempo, savoring her heat and moist warmth. Jaida moaned loudly, overwhelmed by the dizzying sensations. "Fuck, Roman…yes, just like that, oh fuck…"

Roman watched the pleasure contort her beautiful features, memorized the euphoric look in her breathtaking green eyes, the way her hair clung to her face, the way she groaned his name. The Samoan found himself proud to be the one to bring her to this state of bliss. "Such a tight little pussy, sweet pea. So wet for me," he breathed heavily in her ear, accentuating the statement with another single hard, deep thrust that caused her to cry out. Rolling her onto her belly, he adjusted himself on top of her and increased his pace as he fucked her from behind, pistoning deep into her inviting heat.

"Oh god!" Jaida moaned noisily into the sheets, her toes curling as she crept closer and closer to her climax. Roman was hitting every spot she owned with amazing precision. She was vaguely cognizant of his warm mouth suckling her neck, his pelvis smacking against her ass as he long-stroked her pussy. His fingers snuck back between her legs, probing her clitoris, and gripping the sheets tightly, Jaida screamed as she came hard, trembling uncontrollably in Roman’s arms. Groaning, he pressed her down into the mattress and hammered into her, desperate for his own release.

“Fuck, Jaida, I’m comin’...fuck!...” He moaned out loud as the orgasm seized every muscle in his body, leaving him temporarily without the ability of speech or thought. Relaxing against her, he gave her breast a feeble squeeze then let go, flopping onto his back to catch his breath.

On the nightstand, Jaida's message alert beeped. Finding the strength to move, the seamstress picked the phone up, finding a text from Lincoln, bidding her goodnight and that he would dream of her.

From where he lay, Roman could see every word in the message, the little smile on her face. "You like this dude." It was more of a statement than a question, his hand wiping away stray chocolate on the curve of her hip.

Jaida turned towards him, searching his face as she tried to gauge the casual tone of his voice. A few seconds passed, and biting her lip, she nodded.

He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "Fair enough. It got nothin' to do with what we're doing, right?" he asked, a meaningful look in his eyes. He didn't give a shit about Jaida getting together with this Lincoln guy, as long as he got his own special piece of her.

Jaida's eyes narrowed curiously at him. So he wanted this to be a thing now? As much as she should have questioned the wisdom of this decision, she found herself not wanting to, not when this was as incredible as it was. Switching off her phone and putting it away, she took his face in her hands and wrapped his lips with hers, over and over. "No," she murmured against his mouth.

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” She swung a leg over him and straddled his sweet, sweat-ridden body. "Don't worry about it."

Roman stared up at her, a mix of amusement and lust in his grey eyes. "You want more, baby? Can't get enough of this good dick?" he smirked.

"Not quite," Jaida stated, a challenging glint in her eyes. "Now let's see what you're really made of."

Roman's smile mirrored her own as he braced his hands on her hips. "Careful what you wish for, sweet pea," he murmured, right before her mouth covered his once again.

Jaida wasn't sure where she and Lincoln were going, but she knew exactly where she and Roman were at. They would indulge in each other, and when the next day rolled around they could pretend like nothing happened. She'd done it before, with Lincoln and in more treacherous circumstances. This wouldn't be a problem for her. She would find a way to make it work.

And with a dick game as stellar as Roman Reigns', she definitely wanted to make it work.

-------------------

Kindly review!

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman and jaida #the we are series #tribal chief #wwe

60 notes · View notes

melodyalanaroster · 5 years

Photo

I Will Protect You!

“Where am I? This isn’t my bedroom.” Alana felt around her zippered pockets and found her phone. “Good God... Three in the morning.” Using the light of her phone, she checked her surroundings and felt a wave of familiarity wash over her. She looked to her left and her heart melted. Laying next to her, fast asleep, with a look of deep worry on his face, was the only man she’s ever loved... Nathaniel. “Its been years since I was last in this bedroom. But how did I get here?” While looking around the room, she noticed one of her bags on Nathaniel’s desk. “Okay, so, I’m in Nathaniel’s bedroom, in my training clothes, my shoes are still on, Nathaniel looks beyond worried and one of my bags is here. Something happened last night while I was training Nora and Lyra.” She quietly lowered her feet to the floor, found and put on her glasses and walked over to her bag. She opened the zipper and discovered a note on top of her stuff.

“Mels,

Last night, while we were training, you were on top of a very tall telephone pole, and you fainted. You dropped out of the sky but Nathaniel caught you before could hit the ground. Azrael tried to get him to let us take you back to the Tower, to the Infirmary, but he wouldn’t. He pulled a switchblade and challenged her! He did it to protect you.... To protect you from her. She saw his conviction and heartbreak in his eyes and let him take you home, so long as Nora and I took care of what you need. Inside this bag are 2 days worth of clothes, a pair of pajamas, 2 days of medicine, a pair of flats and a toiletries bag. Azrael notified Nathaniel that you are to not come home for 2 days. Don’t worry about Serenity, Nora, Renee, Veronica and I will make sure she’s taken care of until you return home.

- Lyra

Alana looked back at Nathaniel, awestruck. “You challenged one of the most dangerous people in the world to protect me.” she sighed, lovingly. She turned back to the bag, dug through it, grabbed the toiletries and pajamas and walked towards the bathroom.

When she reentered the bedroom, she noticed something alarming. Nathaniel was on his stomach, gripping the bed, his face contorted into a look of pain and fear. Alana automatically knew this was a sign of a nightmare taking its hold. She immediately thought of the last time she came in to him having a nightmare. “It could work.” she thought. She then sat down next to him, began stroking his back, and started to sing the first soothing song that came to mind.

“How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die? It is love we must hold onto Never easy, but we try Sometimes our happiness is captured Somehow, a time and place stand still Love lives on inside our hearts and always will”

Instantly, his muscles began to relax, the pained look began to recede and Alana could tell her song reached him. “The last time I did that, it was “Once Upon A December” that calmed you down, my love.” she grinned as she walked around the bed, placed her glasses and phone on the bedside table, got beneath the covers and slid next to him. “I love you Nathaniel.” she sighed as she let sleep take a hold of her.

All of a sudden, Alana felt a weight on her chest. “What the hell!” she sleepily muttered as she opened her eyes. When her vision came into a small amount of focus, she noticed a white fur ball staring her in the face. “Blanche!” “Meow!” “Hi pretty kitty!” “Meow!” “I’ve missed you too!” Alana took her right hand and began to pet the cat as she looked around the room. The sun was poking through the curtains and notified Alana that it had been several hours since she closed her eyes. She looked to her left and noticed her hand was being held by Nathaniel, who was still asleep despite the quiet conversation between her and Blanche. She couldn’t help but be awestruck as his golden hair was haloed by the light. “My angel.” she thought.

Suddenly, Alana felt her hand squeeze. “Good morning.” Nathaniel looked at her, a lazy smile on his face. “Good morning.” Alana mused. Nathaniel’s face turned serious and Alana realized he just remembered what had happened. “You changed clothes?” “Yeah. I woke up in the middle of the night so I changed clothes and brushed my teeth before getting back into bed.” “Are you okay?” “I feel a lot better, but I think its been ordered of me to relax while I’m in your care.” “Yeah, I’m not gonna let you do much while you recuperate.” “Personally, I think I’ll be okay.” “Alana... Dropping out of the sky proves to everyone that you are not okay.” “I just needed some sleep.” “How much sleep have you been getting lately?” “At least an hour each night.” Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow. “Only an hour each night?” “Around that.” “JESUS Melody! You know you’re running yourself thin! And now you’re not getting enough sleep?! Is it because of your condition?” “No. I’m not having nightmares. I just have a lot of stuff to do before I can leave the RDR.” “I don’t believe that Lyra and Nora need you to watch them each time they train. You’re doing well in your classes. Your mom doesn’t need you as much...” Alana looked at him, curiously. “And you? Do you need me?” “I like having you around.” “That doesn’t answer my question Nathaniel.” “Take it at that Alana.” Nathaniel got out of bed. “Come on. I’ll get us something to eat.” “Okay.”

Alana grabbed her medicine and walked into the kitchen as Nathaniel stood over his stove top and made pancakes. She could hear him humming a tune while he cooked. “Love lives inside our hearts and always will.” she sang. “You did sing to me while I was asleep.” He blushed. “You were having a nightmare.” “Alana...” “Nathaniel, you may not realize it, but you’re constantly saving me. For god’s sake, you challenged Azrael to protect me! Do you have any idea of the gravity of that situation?!” “I’ve been told its something that never happens.” Alana sat down at the dining table. “It really is something that never happens. No one would ever think about a civilian challenging one of the top ranks of the RDR.” “I couldn’t just let her take you. Not after everything they’ve done to you. Not this time.” “And to think, you bitch at me for treating you like a damsel in distress.” “You know that’s different.” “I’m aware of the difference in severity of our situations... Well, at least, I know about the primary differences. The fact is that you and I both care about each other to have the overwhelming desire to protect each other.” Nathaniel looked down at the food, then back at Alana. “Melody Alana Roster, I don’t give a damn about what happens to me... What I care about is the safety of the people I care about... And no matter what, I will protect you!”

26 notes · View notes

wewerepromisedsomuch · 5 years

Text

Festival Review: Bring The Horizon @ All Points East

Artist: Bring Me The Horizon

Festival: All Points East, Victoria Park, London, UK

Date: 31st May 2019

Rating: 9.0/10

It’s quite the journey Bring Me The Horizon have been on, from polarizing metalcore scamps – the band everyone loved to hate - to genre-defying, globe-trotting behemoths. Over the past 15 years BMTH have had their fair share of slings and arrows to dodge, from battling addiction, band members coming and going, and the early years of being chastised for their scenester stylings. However, steadily the Sheffield unit have been evolving, starting with their own brand of deathcore and then manoeuvring through twisted metal bombast that married the brutality of their earlier work but with a wider appeal that snared in fans far and wide. Then there’s 2019’s divisive LP ‘amo’; the record where the Steel-City outfit ripped up their own rulebook to deliver a record that flirts with pop, like no other heavy band has done before. Say what you want but BMTH have had the guts and the balls to follow their own path, and that path has led them to their first ever festival headline slot at London’s All Points East in Victoria Park.

Not only were Bring Me The Horizon granted the coveted top slot by a festival only in its second year (headliners across the other nights will include The Strokes, Bon Iver, Mumford and Sons, Chemical Brothers and Christine and The Queens – not bad company hey?!), but they were given free reign to curate the burgeoning roster of acts throughout the day. Given ‘amo’s diverse sonic palette, All Points East’s BMTH Friday boasted acts from all manner of genres, whilst championing a whole host of up and coming acts; there’s Scarlxrd’s twisted noise rap, Employed to Serve’s punishing metalcore, Heavy Lung’s gnarled post-punk, the weird burbled pop of Happyalone, rabble-rouser punks Crows, noise-pop siren Alice Glass and a shitload more. Not to forget their roots, BMTH also roped in Architects and While She Sleeps, as a nice nod to their metal brethren.

Before BMTH charged through their mammoth 2-hour set, there were two standout performances that we can’t leave out of this review. Firstly, Idles, a band so important right now it hurts, this is a group that uses caustic punk as a weapon, but their uncompromising racket is chockfull of cathartic positivity or to quote their sophomore album title, ‘Joy As An Act of Resistance’. With the ever-commanding frontman Joe Talbot playing the part of consummate ringleader to his group’s wanton chaos, the Bristol transplant’s main stage performance typified why Idles are one of the UK’s most celebrated bands. With the likes of ‘Never Fight a Man With a Perm’, ‘Mother’ and ‘Samaritans’ being played with every ounce of sinew and grit, it would come as no surprise that Idles had recruited another few members to their AF Gang fan group. The other act to sufficiently warm up the APE crowd was Run The Jewels; entering the stage to a sea of pistol and fist hand signs, EL-P and Killer Mike took no time to fire out a bevy of bouncing rap bangers. With the pair trading verses and a bowel loosening bass line quaking the floor underneath the packed crowd, the duo’s second-to-the-headliners set was a masterclass in whipping up a hip-hop storm. The level of devotion was mirrored between act and audience, as APE bellowed, on several occasions, the chant of “RTJ! RTJ! RTJ!” and this signal of love wasn’t ignored by Run The Jewels themselves, who often gushed about the great London crowd they were performing in front of. When you’ve got cast-iron party starters like ‘Oh My Darling Don’t Cry’, ‘Close Your Eyes (And Count To Fuck)’, and ‘Legend Has It’ in the locker, it’s no wonder RTJ ran through APE like they owned the joint. Like Idles before, Run The Jewels projected a message of love and positivity, whilst calling out bullshit toxic masculinity.

After being suitably warmed up by a day’s worth of killer music, Bring Me The Horizon had the crowd primed like a champagne cork ready to pop. Sauntering onto the main stage dressed in a red suit, with sewn on patches resembling crazed newspaper clips on his back, Oli Sykes looks very much the deranged cult leader, as the rest of BMTH take up the stage behind him in matching boiler suits. As ‘MANTRA’ opened up proceedings, it’s evident this isn’t going to be a normal headlining slot; we’re greeted to an audio-visual spectacular of synchronised dancers, flames, ticker tape, smoke jets and day-glo video screens that project abstract image after abstract image. With BMTH’s drastic swerve of a recent album, it was always going to be intriguing how the newer material would fit in with the band’s heavier tracks. The truth is, the set-list slotted together like a perfect jigsaw puzzle; the five piece easily deployed the anthemic metal of ‘Shadow Moses’, next to the synth-dance thumper of ‘Nihilist Blues’ (sadly without Grimes making a surprise appearance), then there’s the pop-rock of ‘Mother Tongue’ being followed by the antagonist assault of ‘Antivist’.

The band’s top slot at All Point East was less of a gig, but more of a celebration; the feeling in the crowd is one of jubilation, with nearly every song instigating sing-alongs and wide spread adulation. Then there’s the circle pits…oh the circle pits! Every bit the master of mischief Sykes will goad the crowd on several occasions to go harder, to go faster, to create the biggest spinning vortex of human limbs possible. To fit in with the celebratory vibes, BMTH were joined by several guest vocalists; Dani Filth takes up his vocal duties on ‘Wonderful Life’, ‘The Sadness Will Never End’ is played for the first time since 2016 with Sam Carter from Architects sharing vocals with Sykes and then Lotus Eater’s Jamie McLees lent his visceral growl to ‘Antivist’. When not ushering in their mates to help on tracks BMTH offer up different takes on their back catalogue; ‘Sleepwalking’ is stripped back to an acoustic rendition, while ‘It Never Ends’ is given an orchestral overhaul, as a string sextet joined the band for a touch of sophistication at a rock show.

Not to miss a trick when it comes to a massive headline show, the band will have three costume changes (THREE! Alright Mariah Careys!!), whilst continuing the ample helping of pyro and hypnotic visuals. They’ll also wheel out old classics like the disgustingly brutal ‘Pray for Plagues’ and ‘Diamonds Aren’t Forever’s abrasive assault. What’s wonderful about BMTH’s APE show, is that through all the bells and whistles of playing a huge festival slot, they still created moments of raw intimacy. There’s more than one occasion where Sykes will take up a spot on the stage’s extended ego ramp into the crowd, cross-legged, to recount a story of overcoming addiction or to offer up appreciation for the numerous years of support the band have had from their dedicated fanbase. The band’s formidable frontman will be brought to tears during the singalong for ‘Sleepwalking’, which typifies the amount of emotion on display on APE’s main-stage.

All Points East offered up a perfect day of diverse music and a feeling of love and unity; all brought together by Bring Me The Horizon’s stellar headlining set.

2 notes · View notes

gdwessel · 5 years

Text

Wrestle Kingdom 13 - 1/4/2019; Ibushi Concussed; G1 Climax 29 Begins in Dallas, WK14 Will Be 2 Nights

Today is The Day. Wrestle Kingdom 13. You can watch it on NJPWWorld in Japanese or English. You can pay $35 on FITE TV for the same. You can wait until later tonight and watch a 2-hour version (continued the next 2 weeks) on AXS TV. Whatever the case, you can see it.

Wrestle Kingdom 13 - January 4, 2019, Tokyo Dome (NJPWWorld, FITE TV, AXS TV on tape delay)

NEVER Openweight 6-Man Tag Team Championship #1 Contenders Gauntlet Match: Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Ryusuke Taguchi d. Yuji Nagata, Jeff Cobb [FREE] & David Finlay Jr. and Hirooki Goto, Trent Beretta & Chuck Taylor [CHAOS] and Minoru Suzuki, Lance Archer & Davey Boy Smith Jr. [SZKG] and Adam Page, Yujiro Takahashi & Marty Scurll [The Elite] Order of Eliminations - Finlay > Yujiro, Schoolboy, 4:39 - Finlay > Taylor, Schoolboy, 7:30 - KES > Finlay, Killer Bomb, 2:44 - Yano > Smith, Schoolboy, 8:09

NEVER Openweight Championship: Will Ospreay [CHAOS] d. Kota Ibushi [FREE] © (Stormbreaker, 18:13) - Ibushi fails his 1st defense - Ospreay is the 23rd champion

IWGP Junior Heavyweight Tag Team Championship 3-Way Match: BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] d. Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG] © and SHO & YOH [CHAOS] (Takagi > SHO, Last of the Dragon, 6:50) - Kanemaru/Desperado fail their 5th defense - BUSHI/Takagi are the 58th champions

RevPro Undisputed British Heavyweight Championship: Zack Sabre Jr. [SZKG] d. Tomohiro Ishii [CHAOS] © (Hurrah! Another Year, Surely This One Will Be Better Than The Last; The Inexorable March Of Progress Will Lead Us All To Happiness, 11:53) - Ishii fails his ? defense - Sabre is the 21st champion

IWGP Heavyweight Tag Team Championship 3-Way Match: EVIL & SANADA [Los Ingobernables] d. Tama Tonga & Tanga Loa [Bullet Club] © and Matt & Nick Jackson [The Elite] (SANADA > Matt, Rounding Body Press, 10:15) - GOD fail their 1st defense - EVIL/SANADA are the 82nd champions

IWGP US Heavyweight Championship: Juice Robinson d. Cody Rhodes [The Elite] © (Pulp Friction, 9:02) - Cody fails his 1st defense - Juice is the 5th champion

IWGP Junior Heavyweight Championship: Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club] d. KUSHIDA © (Bloody Cross, 11:17) - KUSHIDA fails his 1st defense - Ishimori is the 83rd champion

Jay White [Bullet Club] d. Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS] (Blade Runner, 14:18)

IWGP Intercontinental Championship No-DQ Match: Tetsuya Naito [Los Ingobernables] d. Chris Jericho [FREE] © (Destino, 22:35) - Jericho fails his 2nd defense - Naito is the 20th champion

IWGP Heavyweight Championship: Hiroshi Tanahashi d. Kenny Omega [The Elite] © (High Fly Flow, 39:13) - Omega fails his 4th defense - Tanahashi is the 67th champion

Hoo boy, a lot to break down here.

Every single title changed hands during this show, including the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. The last time that belt changed hands at a January 4 Tokyo Dome show was Wrestle Kingdom V on 1/4/2011, by, how about that, Hiroshi Tanahashi, beating Satoshi Kojima. Eight years since then, including last year's controversial retaining by Kazuchika Okada over Tetsuya Naito that some people are still salty about. So, essentially, the entire Bushiroad era. The (frankly piss-poor) reign of Kenny Omega as IWGP champion is at an end, and the rest of the Elite (including Kota Ibushi) are title-less as well. So let the speculation about Omega and All Elite Wrestling begin in full force. It will be interesting to see which direction he goes in either way. For his part, Tanahashi is now an 8-time IWGP Heavyweight Champion, cementing himself with the record number of reigns. (The next closest is Tatsumi Fujinami at 6.)

Los Ingobernables all hold titles now as well, barring Hiromu, of course, being out injured and all. CHAOS holds one title, as does Bullet Club, who lost one and gained one. The Seikigun hold two, after Tanahashi and Juice won their matches, however lost one with KUSHIDA.

Tetsuya Naito regains the title he hates over Jericho in a brutal brawl, taking full advantage of the No-DQ stipulation,and with it, begins his redemption story, having to come to terms with the IC belt to finally truly move beyond it. Really interested in seeing how his 2019 will go.

Jay White winning over Okada is interesting. It redeems White for having a poor re-debut at WK12 last year, and sets up a continuing feud with the two. Kazuchika Okada having his redemption arc is going to be a major part of 2019 creatively, I think, as will Naito as stated above, and eventually the two will collide. Okada does not take a hit here. It only sets him up to be stronger in the end. And hey, the Longboys are gone, so we have the Rainmaker back!

Shock of shocks, neither of the three-way tag matches ended with the reigning champions being pinned. The junior tag match was REAL short. (So were many of the matches today) Three-ways are stupid and are there to a) not make the champions do the job b) cover up for a bloated roster. Perhaps with the Elite moving away from NJPW this will be minimized in future. But let's face it, now we'll get rematches with the previous champions v. the current ones coming up real soon.

Juice regains the US belt, and writes Cody Rhodes out of NJPW. Trent Beretta challenged Juice post-show. That'll be good. Hopefully they can do right by Juice this time. They made him look like an absolute star at G1 Special in San Francisco, and then proceeded to squander and ruin that the rest of 2018. ZSJ regaining the RevPro title is about what I expected. Now he can take the belt home to England. Yes, that is the na.me of that finisher

That... was a nasty looking elbow Kota took. Ibushi has been reported as being concussed, and that stretcher job was legit. NJPW says the concussion is not severe. Will Ospreay is trying to be in characer gloating about it, because he is a dipshit. Who knows what Ibushi's future is in this AEW era. He's been a freelancer this entire time, so if he too were to leave NJPW (again) so be it. I really think he has the potential to be a drawing IWGP champion, but that's up to him. He did decline a WWE contract after all (as did Sabre). His is the bigger question mark looming than Omega's, if I'm honest.

The mixed Seikigun/CHAOS team of Makabe/Yano/Taguchi won the pre-show gauntlet match, so will most likely challenge for the NEVER Openweight Comedy 6-Man Tag Team titles tomorrow at New Year Dash!!. Yuji Nagata filled in for the injured *spits* Michael Elgin, and made the match actually watchable now, because fuck Michael Elgin. The Most Violent Players still being a thing makes me think there really is going to be a unit shakeup coming soon. We already saw it with Jay White and Gedo earlier in 2018, and the continued CHAOS/Seikigun teamups point that way too.

All in all, a really good show that was weak on paper but in practice did really well. The attendance was announced as 38,162, up from 34,995 for last year's, but not as much of a jump (Nearly +10K last year from WK11). It's also the highest attendance listed since Bushiroad started using actual numbers rather than papered, which was 36,000 in 2015 for WK9. So as critical as I've been of Kenny Omega as champion, using the Meltzer Standard for attendance, it looks like Kenny was, in fact, a decent draw as champion, even if creative and match quality was the shits. Online, it seems that there were some issues during the show on NJPWWorld, for which apologies have been doled out.

The attendance is an interesting issue. Bushiroad owner Takaaki Kidani has said for years that he wanted Wrestle Kingdom 14 to be the sell-out show at the Dome, as it falls on a Saturday...

As part of today's show, upcoming big events were announced for the coming year, and the biggest one of these was the announcement that WK14 will be, in fact, a 2-day event, on 1/4 and 1/5/2020, both Saturday and Sunday. Not sure how that is going to work out for selling out the Dome in 2020. In fact it might dilute the attendance by splitting it. It's an interesting conundrum, and we'll see if NJPW has the momentum to sell out just one, if not both, of those dates this time next year.

Other major show dates were announced, some we already knew (if you look at the Upcoming NJPW Events post from 2 days ago). There is a mega-card announced for 4/20/2019 at Aichi Prefectural Gymnasium, without a name given, but no word on Sakura Genesis, so I'm wondering if there will even be one this year. Wrestling Dontaku 2019 is a two-day event in Fukuoka, much like last year's edition.

This year's Best of the Super Juniors 26 Final will be held on 6/5/2019 at Tokyo Ryogoku Kokugikan, which is great, finally giving the Final the prestige it deserves with such a massive venue to hold it in. A mere 4 days later, we go back to Osaka-Jo Hall for Dominion 6.9 in Osaka-Jo Hall on, oddly enough, 6/9/2019.

G1 Climax 29 will begin and end in interesting fashion. This year's tournament will actually begin in the USA, on 7/6/2019 at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX, making this the only time G1 Climax matches have been held outside of Japan. As for the ending, following the success of last year's Finals at Tokyo Nippon Budokan, which was due to necessity of renovations happening at Ryogoku, they are going back this year from 8/10 - 8/12/2019 for this year's G1 Finals as well.

The last one to be announced is a solo date in London, on 8/31/2019 at The Copper Box, located in Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, Hackney Wick. This is the place where feuding YouTubers Joe Weller and KSI held a boxing match. I am sure there will be RevPro involvement in this show.

That's it. That's all I got. New Year Dash!! is tomorrow but they never announce the card for it ahead of time. Hope everyone enjoyed WK13, and we start a good year in New Japan Pro Wrestling.

17 notes · View notes

wellhellotragic · 6 years

Text

Oh Captain, My Captain (1/2)

So I was going though my google docs and found this little ditty from the first time Colin played in a charity soccer match.... It’s just been sitting in my docs for over a year now unpublished

Six weeks had passed since Emma’s name had been thrown into list of mandatory volunteers to play a charity game for the local soccer club. In an effort to boost rating for the aging show, Regina, the producer, had contacted the head of the club, pitching the idea. Their team would be composed of veteran crew members from “Enchanted,” a fairy tale show based on Disney characters, as well as some of the professional team players. Regina had also struck a deal with Robin, the producer of “The Jolly Roger.” It was a show that also filmed in Vancouver, and played on a rival network on the same night and time slot. Every Sunday night, the two shows battled for viewership numbers, and each week, Emma’s show was coming up shorter and shorter.

It wasn’t uncommon for a show of it’s age. After six years many of the actors had declined to renew their contracts, and a slew of new kids were coming in. Twitter had been up in arms about how the show should have ended its run during the last season, and if anything, this next season was nothing more than a money milking spin off. Fans were still kind during the conventions, but there was an current of resentment and nervousness running just below the surface.

The Jolly Roger, or the Rolly Joger as Emma and David had dubbed it during a drunk night of binging so they could make fun of it, had only been on the air for two years. It had actually been one of the first shows announced for a season pickup, much to the chagrin of everyone on Enchanted, who weren’t notified until right before the network upfronts. It was pandering, plain and simple. Real pirates had scurvy and potbellies, waxed mustaches and bad perms. Their teeth were black and rotted. They didn’t look like fucking Killian Jones, with blue eyes that launched into your very soul, or raven hair that rivaled a Greek God. No, the show was crap, and so was Jones’ portrayal of Captain Hook.

She hated that man with the very essence of her being. True, she’d never met him personally, but she’d heard things, sometimes in vivid detail. He’d managed to romance more than any man’s fair share of the extras that bounced from show to show in the city, and had even caused a skirmish or two on set when two of his conquests had found out about each other.

Luckily she’d been able to avoid him during the past two weeks of practices and scrimmages. His team practiced earlier in the mornings than hers, and she’d hid out in the team’s clubhouse until she saw him leave the field for the parking lot. David hadn’t shared her proclivity for hiding and had actually talk to the man on their second practice. Somehow the interaction had led to some friendly trash talking and before she knew it, Regina had them all filming mini spots to release as promotion for the game. Everyone seemed to be taking the entire thing in stride, and it irked Emma. Didn’t they understand that they were the enemy?!

The line was drawn when the other show’s cast members starting responding. Or more specifically, when Killian Jones responded to her. Ruby had Killian’s retort pulled up, playing it for David and Henry 2.0, as he’d been lovingly dubbed. Emma had walked onto set far too early that morning after a late night of filming, and she heard a voice ask him who he thought his biggest competition was. She’d hardly registered any of it, still severely under caffeinated, until she heard a lilting voice say her name, forcing her to look at Ruby’s cell phone.

“Uh, I’d hafta say Emma Swan. She seems like a pretty feisty lass, and I’m quite eager to see if I can score on her, or even if she might be able to perform a header.”

The most infuriating part had been the way his eyebrows wiggled as he said it. No, the most infuriating part was that it was now out there, on repeat. It was war.

Over the next three weeks, Emma gave her everything to practice. There was such an intensity to her resolve that she’d started staying late, practicing one-on-one with Graham Humbert, the star of the Whitecaps Soccer Team. He taught her how to read the other players’ looks so she’d know the plays they were about to make, and before long she and Graham had their own silent conversations, making them an unstoppable force.

When Emma arrived at the stadium the morning of the match, it was near chaos. Fans were lining the entrance trying to get autographs and pictures with all of the actors and team players. She signed a few pictures, but when she really started looking around, she noticed that most of the fans were younger women, all decked out in t-shirts donning Killian’s name on them. Some of the shirts even had a ‘C’ for captain slapped on the sleeve. She’d had to stop herself from rolling her eyes as she heard the screams and cheering pick up.

She looked back to find the man of the hour approaching the crowd with a sharpie marker already in his hand. She tried to duck out, but between the crowds and security, she was boxed in, and Killian stood between her and the entrance. She motioned to move past him, but as she did he caught her arm and leaned into her.

“Emma Swan. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

There was something in his facial expression that set her on edge, cocky bravado that he probably used when speaking to every woman. She gave him a forced smile, but when he winked at her, she’d had enough and pushed past him, making sure that her shoulder caught him on the way.

“Ah, a preview of what’s to come? Oh, Emma,” he shouted, causing her to stop and turn around to face him. “Don’t be afraid to, ya know, really get into it.”

His eyebrows wiggled again, the way they had in the video, and Emma had to force herself not to punch him. Instead, she made her way into the stadium, where David and Graham were waiting for her. Together the three of them headed for the locker room. Normally, it was one large open area, but as the charity match was co-ed, a curtain had been drawn down the middle to grant privacy.

They changed quickly, only taking time to put on their pads once they had regrouped on the sidelines. After the rest of the team and actors had joined them, Graham called out the roster, telling each person who their equivalent position on the opposing team was. As team captain, Graham was matched up with Keith Nottingham, David with Mary Margaret, a pint sized woman who played a tavern owner on Killian’s show. The rest of the list went on, but Emma zoned out until she heard her own name called, followed by the last person in the world she wanted to be attached to for the rest of the day. Killian Jones.

She pleaded with Graham to change the lineup, but he told her that it wasn’t his decision and that his hands were tied. Apparently Regina had made the suggestion that the two leads should be teamed up knowing that it would gather more attention. Internally cursing herself, she took the field for the first play. She had Graham had devised a plan. It was simple really. She was to going to start, play the first half, and be done until the last fifteen minutes of the game - just enough playtime to appease Regina - , but it seemed Killian had other ideas as he refused to be taken out of the game, which meant that Emma was stuck in as well.

She was in shape - at least in good enough shape for all of the physical stuff she needed to do for filming - but soccer was a whole different beast. The running never ended, and by half time, Emma was certain that her lungs were going to explode. It didn’t help that Killian had spent most of the time throwing out innuendoes like the goalie threw out blocks.

Graham had run as much interference as possible for her, but Killian had been unphased, all too happy to being playing the game with men he’d come to idolize. He was in his element, and if Emma hadn’t been too keen on hating him, she might have found it endearing how he blushed when receiving a compliment from one of the professional players. She might have noticed how nimble he was as he slid to kick the ball, or how glorious his bum was as he stretched out on the sidelines. But she didn’t notice any of that. Definitely not.

What she did notice was the very naked fan that had leapt out onto the field running straight for the penalty area near the end of the second half. Killian on the other hand, had only had eyes for the ball, as the man that would eventually become dubbed as the ‘Whitecap Wanker’ (pun intended) nearly collided with him, in what surely would have been an ankle-breaking incident. Without thinking, Emma bolted for Killian, wrapped her arms around him, and pushed him backwards to save him. They both tumbled to the ground, causing Killian to land squarely on top of her.

The wind had been knocked out of her, she was sure of it. That had to have been the reason she was breathless. It certainly couldn’t have had anything to do with him lying across her, or the way his blue eyes bored into her soul. The way those same eyes briefly fell to her lips before snapping back up to her own eyes.

The moment was ruined though when Will Scarlet sauntered over, reminding them that this was a family friendly charity match and they should go get a room. Something shifted and the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened just a bit as he stood and offered his hand out the help her up. She took it reluctantly, but once she was up, instead of releasing her, he pulled her further forward, so that her chest was pressed into his. His lips brushed the shell of her ear.

“It’s about bloody time, but I can think of much more pleasurable things to do with a woman on her back.”

She hoped he didn’t notice the small shiver that ran up her spine.

“I was just trying to keep you from getting slapped in the face with streaker junk.”

“Well, that’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time don’t stand on ceremony.”

She pushed back, schooling her face into something closer to determination.

“Trust me, Jones, you have a better shot of scoring a goal than you have scoring with me.”

They had been so enraptured with each other that they hadn’t even noticed that the game had started back up. Not until Emma heard Graham calling her name and she saw the ball whizzing straight at her. Taking a moment to look back as Killian, she noticed he was still transfixed on her. His jaw nearly pulsated.

Graham called her again and she snapped out of the bubble she and Killian had created for themselves. Stepping around him Emma found the ball and kicked it with all of her might. It flew through the air and sailed straight into the net. The game-winning goal.

The celebration had been lively. Her team had been ecstatic about her goal in the last three seconds. The team popped champagne and danced around her, chanting their captain’s name. Eventually the party dispersed and Emma was left alone in the locker room with Graham, who was smiling at her sweetly.

“You were marvelous out there, Emma.”

She felt the blush crawling up her neck.

“Thanks, but I think the credit really goes to you and all of that extra practice time you put in with me.”

He took a step forward.

“Trust me, it was my pleasure. Spending time with you wasn’t exactly a hardship.”

She had to overt her eyes. He was dancing around dangerous territory. Emma didn’t date, plain and simple. She’d been screwed over often enough to realize that relationships just weren't worth the pain they inevitably brought.

“Graham-”

“Wait. Emma, I’ve really enjoyed these last few weeks with you, and to be honest, I’m not really ready for it all to end. Would it be too forward of me to ask you out to dinner?”

She took a deep breath, trying to stifle the panic she felt clawing it’s way out of her. He really was a sweet guy, and she didn’t want to hurt him, but it was too much.

“Graham.” His face fell, already knowing what she was going to say. “My schedule is so erratic right now, and filming just started a few weeks ago.”

“It’s okay, Emma. I understand.” He clasped her hand squeezed it. “But you have my number if you change your mind.”

She nodded and he released her hands before turning away, pausing only long enough to grab his bag, before exiting the locker room. The breath that she’d been holding slipped out and she finally let herself relax. Every muscle in her body had been so tense that now her legs felt they might buckle under her, and the champagne had left a sticky residue on her jersey and skin.

All she could think about was how much she wanted a hot shower. Looking around, noticing the empty locker room, she considered her options. Ya, she could wait until she got home, but that was thirty minutes away in traffic, or, she could sneak into on of the empty stalls in the locker room. Everyone was gone, and she’d just be in and out. Taking one more look, calling out to ensure that she was in fact alone, Emma headed through the rows of now empty cubicles that had housed uniforms earlier that day. The shower wasn’t anything like she had expected. In high school, there had been separate stalls, blocked off by curtains to protect everyone's modesty. In college, she’d avoided sports all together, so she’d never had to worry about it.

Standing in the Whitecaps shower though, there were no barriers. Just one large room with rows of shower heads peeking out from the wall. It was almost enough to make her change her mind, but the thought of getting in her car with her sticky clothes gave her the push to stay. After all, everyone had already left.

Finding an available clothing hook on the opposite side of the room, Emma slowly began to peel her jersey off. The dried up sweat and alcohol had stiffened it, causing it to stick as she tried to pulled it over her ponytail. It took a fair bit of fighting to dislodge herself from the offending garment, and she nearly gave up, but when a voice called out, the shock had her wrenching it off to cover her front side.

“Oh, love. There’s no need to stop on my account.”

“Shit!”

Of course it was him.

“Well, Swan. You bested me.”

“Like there was ever a question.”

“Don’t be so dismissive Swan. I can count the number of people who’ve beat me on one hand.”

He held up his right hand, flourishing it for effect. She should have been pissed that he was there. She was pissed, but she was also thinking about how his long fingers would feel inside her. Something about their match, their constant drive for dominance over each other on the field had awoken something in her.

Fuck. She wanted him.

40 notes · View notes