#(or soccer for any americans reading this)

[avedoodles]

pitcher fang ⚾️💫

[cherry-shipping]

i love my friends selfships........... sorry im wine drunk as fuck so im all kinds of mushy rn. but anyway sincerely honestly truly i love my friends selfhsips so anyway if youre my friend ACTUALLY not even my friend just a person in general. and you ever EVER!!!!!!!!!!! want to gush about your f/os or talks baout your s/i lore. god god god i cant even begin to describe how happy that woud make me. if i dont know who the f/o is i cant give you much about personal interpretations/headcanons but it still makes my stupid lame ass day to hear about them.......... so anyway. sorry for being a loser ive just always loved selfshipping and self inserts

[ja3yun]

Out of My League | S.JY

footballer!jake x fem footballer!reader

warnings: smut (mdni) unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, cream pie, nipple play, slight overstim, not proof read, anything else lmk!

w.c: 5.5k

REQ: can't stop thinking about football teammate-slash-friend jaeyun whom you've had a secret crush and have never acted on it because you felt like he was out of your league... until that afternoon right after training when you and some of your teammates were at his place, fixing up and getting ready for a pool party. jake let you take a shower in his own bathroom, and when he saw you step out in a sundress for the first time, he knew he won't be able to contain his hidden desires for you much longer...

a/n: hi! first of all, this is european football and not american, soccer basically. i hope you like this anon! i ran to complete this request because i have been dying for an excuse to write footballer jake and imagine him in a strip (for me? it's ac milan or celtic personally). I changed tiny little aspects of it, hope you don't mind! enjoy and reblog, like, comment, etc etc.

You sprint down the pitch, heart pounding as the ball moves rapidly between your teammates. The opposing team is pressing hard, and you sense the danger building. You catch sight of Jake, your reliable defensive midfielder, positioned just ahead of the backline. With the opposition's attackers closing in, you know it's time to reinforce your defence.

"Jake! Drop back!" you shout, your voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. Immediately, Jake responds to your command, falling back to help the defenders. You watch as he expertly positions himself, ready to intercept any potential threats. His quick reaction provides the necessary buffer, allowing your team to regroup and cover any gaps.

With Jake now deeper, the opposition's forward hesitates. This split-second delay is all your defenders need to mark their men more tightly. With Jake in position, you feel a renewed sense of security. You move to close down the space in front of you, preparing to press any midfielder attempting to break through.

The ball is passed wide to the opposing winger, and your full-back engages, trying to force them towards the touchline. The winger tries to cut inside, but Jake is there, reading the play perfectly. He steps up, intercepts the pass intended for the striker, and quickly looks for an outlet. His composure under pressure is evident as he spots you making yourself available for a pass.

"Switch!" you call, ready to change the direction of play. Jake delivers a precise pass to your feet, and you immediately look upfield, spotting an opportunity. You send a long ball to your winger, who takes it in stride and charges down the flank. The crowd's anticipation grows as he crosses the ball into the box.

There are only seconds on the overtime clock and you know you need to do something, and fast. You sprint into the penalty area, arriving just in time to meet the cross with a powerful header. The ball flies past the goalkeeper and into the net. The crowd of amateur football fans and dragged-along parents erupt in cheers as you and your teammates celebrate.

Jake's face lights up with a beaming smile as he sprints towards you. Without missing a beat, he wraps his arms around you and lifts you high into the air. Laughter bubbles out of you as he spins you around, the world blurring into a whirl of colours and cheers. His joy is infectious, and you can’t help but throw your arms up in delight.

As Jake sets you back down, the two of you share a moment of pure happiness. He places his hands on each side of your face and brings your forehead to his. “You fucking did it,” he whispers, though the excitement in his chest makes the words sound much louder. His lips suddenly find their way to your sweaty forehead and your eyes widen, a faint tingle spreading over your body.

Although he does this every time you score a winning goal - or any goal at all, for that matter - it still makes your heart flutter like a captured bird, frantically beating against its cage. Perhaps that’s why you strive to always score at least one goal every game, just to feel his touch like this.

Jake Sim, your friend and right-hand man on your co-ed college football team, has always had that effect on you. It was quite pathetic really, and so cliché that you almost smack yourself in the face every time you think about him. Harbouring a crush on your best friend is so noughties rom-com it’s almost laughable.

Your infatuation with Jake began two years ago when you both started college. He was in every single one of your classes, a coincidence that felt like destiny. From the first day, his charisma and kindness drew you in, and before long, you found yourself gravitating towards him. When you both signed up for the football team, your bond solidified. Practices, matches, and late-night study sessions became the fabric of your shared routine. You became inseparable, your lives interwoven with a seamless blend of friendship and teamwork.

Jake’s presence was a constant source of solace. His laughter was infectious, his encouragement unwavering. On the field, he was your anchor, always ready to support you, celebrate your victories, and lift you up - both literally and figuratively. Off the field, he was your confidant, your late-night study partner, and your favourite person to unwind with after a gruelling day. He was the only person in this world that never drained your social battery.

Yet, despite the closeness, you never dare to confess your feelings. You convince yourself that someone as perfect and enchanting as Jake can’t possibly see you in a romantic light. It isn’t that you think poorly of yourself - you know you are far from unattractive - but Jake’s effortless charm and the way everyone seems to orbit around him makes you feel like just another face in the crowd. He is so out of your league that you can’t ever fathom him liking you any more than he already does as your friend.

Your heart aches with unspoken longing, each shared smile and inside joke adding fuel to the fire of your crush. You cherish every moment with him, even though it comes with a bittersweet pang. Watching him laugh, seeing his eyes light up during your conversations, feeling the warmth of his arm casually draped over your shoulders - it was all wonderful and agonising at the same time.

In those quiet moments when you are alone with your thoughts, you fantasise about what it might be like if he reciprocates your feelings. But then reality crashes in, reminding you that Jake is seemingly unattainable. So, you keep your feelings locked away, hidden behind the facade of friendship, hoping that someday you might find the courage to tell him how you really feel. Until then, you continue to play, to score, and to revel in the moments when Jake’s lips touch your skin, even platonically.

You don’t get the chance to breathe in this moment with him because suddenly, your team hoists you into the air, shouting congratulatory words. It’s not uncommon for your football team to win; in fact, you’re all some of the best players in the amateur league. But a tight game like this one, with the score coming in at 2-1 thanks to you, is a special cause for celebration.

Amidst the jubilant chaos, you search for Jake's face below you. His adoring smile stretches across his cheeks, his eyes gleaming with awe. He looks up at you as if you're a hero, and for a moment, the world feels perfect.

Jake has always valued you as a player, often confessing during training that he aspires to emulate your skill and dedication. His admiration is no secret, but sometimes you wonder if there is something deeper behind those lingering glances and encouraging words.

“Alright, celebratory party at mine! Bring your trunks,” Jay bellows as the team finally places your feet back on the ground, their energy still buzzing from the win.

Within a beat of being steady, Jake slings an arm over your shoulder, his touch warm and familiar. You feel a shiver run down your spine as he pulls you closer, his fingers casually brushing against your arm. “Hey,” he says softly, “why don’t you get ready at my place? We can pregame a bit before heading over to Jay’s.”

His eyes flick to your lips briefly, and your heart skips a beat. You wonder if you’re imagining it, but the lingering intensity in his gaze makes you question everything, but you quickly dismiss it as pure delusion. “Sure, that sounds fun,” you manage to reply, your voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you.

As you walk together, his arm still draped over you, you steal glances at him, wondering if he can hear your thoughts and, fuck, you really hope he can’t. You made the mistake of eyeing him up in his football strip - a black and red vertical striped, tight-fitted top that adorns your school’s logo on the chest, paired with loose black shorts that show off his naturally muscly thighs. You are wearing the same uniform yet it looks like you’re dressed as a bad Álvaro Morata cosplay compared to your friend.

It’s no wonder he never looked at you as a potential romantic partner.

Maybe you could change that with a certain purchase you made last month.

_____

Walking into Jake’s room, you don’t bother to knock, knowing that he’s in the shower as you hear the water running from his ensuite bathroom. You've already changed into your outfit despite telling Jake you would get ready at his place. It isn’t uncommon for you to do this; after all, it is a lot of effort to lug around your makeup and curlers. Plus, you want to surprise him when he sees you.

Jake is so used to seeing you in either your football uniform or casual outfits - a rotation of jeans, leggings, or cargo trousers paired with loose t-shirts or hoodies, sometimes even one of his. It’s very rare he sees you as dolled up as you are right now; maybe the only other time was for his mum and dad’s 25th wedding anniversary.

But today, you have on something much nicer than anything you’ve ever placed on your body before. Last month, you purchased a milkmaid sundress after seeing over 20 TikToks in a row talking about how it appeases the male gaze. Now, you aren’t one to buy into the trap of dressing for a man, making it quite clear to everyone around you that you would rather die than appeal to men in exchange for your own comfort. But this was not just any man - this was Jake after all - and you wanted to be seen by him. So, is it a crime to want to gain his attention?

The dress hugs your curves in all the right places, the soft fabric accentuating your figure while still feeling incredibly comfortable. You look at yourself in Jake’s full-length mirror, turning from side to side and admiring the way the dress flows. The pretty floral pattern makes you look delicate and the way the dress cinches at your waist makes you feel like a princess.

Even though you are trying to impress Jake, you are surely impressing yourself.

The sound of the shower stops, and your heart races. You quickly check your reflection one last time, smoothing down your dress and adjusting a stray piece of hair. The bathroom door opens, and Jake steps out, a towel wrapped around his waist, water still glistening on his skin.

The sight takes your breath away. His tanned skin glows warmly against the stark white of the towel, a striking contrast that only emphasises his natural allure. Water droplets cling to his sculpted chest, slowly trickling down the ridges of his abs and disappearing to an area you’ve been desperate to explore for years. The light filtering into the room catches the droplets, making them shimmer like tiny jewels on his bronzed skin.

Jake’s hair, damp and tousled from the shower, clings to his forehead in a mess of dark waves. The wet shag frames his face perfectly, his puppy-dog eyes peeking through the chaos with a boyish charm that makes your heart thump. His muscles ripple subtly with each movement as he ruffles the back of his hair with another towel, the play of light and shadow accentuating every defined line and curve. The towel rests low on his hips, teasingly hinting at the strong lines of his lower abdomen, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks at the sight.

He pauses in his tracks, hands falling to his sides as his mouth falls open, taking in your appearance. His eyes widen, darkening with an emotion you can’t quite place. The room feels charged with electricity as his gaze sweeps over you, slow and deliberate. You feel suddenly insecure, acutely aware of every inch of your body under his intense scrutiny.

His eyes trail from your face, lingering on your flushed cheeks and the way your hair frames your features. They travel down the graceful curve of your neck to the neckline of your dress, where the delicate lace trim accentuates your collarbones. His breath catches as his stare continues its descent, taking in the way the fabric hugs your waist and flares out over your hips.

When his eyes reach the slit in your dress, exposing a tantalising glimpse of your leg, he audibly gulps, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing in astonishment. His reaction sends a thrill through you, your insecurities momentarily forgotten as you realise just how deeply you’ve affected him.

“Fuck me,” he says in exasperation, his voice barely a whisper, filled with raw desire and admiration.

Jake’s eyes snap back up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart pound in your chest. He takes a tentative step forward, closing the distance between you slightly, his movements slow and deliberate as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“You look...unreal,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “When did you, uh, when did you get that dress?” He tries to play the question off as passive but the slight stutter in his voice betrays him.

You feel a surge of confidence mixed with nervous excitement. This is your chance, and you don’t want to let it slip away. “Oh, this?” you say, feigning nonchalance as you do a little twirl, the dress flares out beautifully. “I got it last month. I thought it might be fun to dress up for a change. I am the star of the party after all.” The giggle that escapes your lips makes you cringe but something about this dress is doing something to you, adding a strange allure to your character that you didn’t know was there before.

Or maybe it’s the way you see the boy in front of you physically melt at the sound.

Jake’s eyes follow the movement of your dress, his eyes lingering on the way it hugs your figure. “Fun is one way to describe it,” he says, his voice low. “I always thought you were beautiful but this? This is insane.”

You pause dead in your tracks, eyes widening for a split second as the words filter through your ears and register in your brain. He always thought you were beautiful. It takes everything inside you not to scream into the boy's face with sheer glee, jumping up and down on his bed like you just won the Euros.

You blink a few times, trying to process his words. “You think I’m beautiful?” you repeat, the question tumbling out before you can stop it.

Jake’s leer is steady, unwavering as he looks at you. “Yeah,” he says softly, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. You had to know that.”

You absolutely did not know that. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you force yourself to breathe evenly. Jake's casual demeanour around you has always been so effortless and unassuming that it's almost bizarre to think he ever considered you might know how he truly feels. The realisation is surreal, like stepping into a dream where every moment has been charged with unspoken longing.

“Honestly, no,” you manage, your voice a mere whisper in the quiet between you. “I was completely clueless, I guess.”

His brows knit together in genuine surprise. “Really?”

The reason Jake is so shocked is that for years he has pined after you like a lovesick fool. From the very first day he saw you walk into class, he knew he wanted to be around you all the time - morning and night, evenings and afternoons. If he could keep you close, he would. And by God, did he.

All those lingering touches on your waist as he passed by, the way he held your hand during crowded spaces that weren’t actually that crowded, and the tender kisses to your forehead at every game - those were all subtle hints about his affection towards you.

Jake had never shared this secret with you, but in his first year of college, he received an offer to play for a high-ranking football team, one that could have easily catapulted him into the professional leagues if he dedicated himself fully. But when he learned that you were a midfielder trying out for your own school’s team, his dreams took a backseat to his feelings for you. The chance to stay close to you, to be part of your daily life, meant more to him than any career advancement.

So, he turned down the prestigious offer and remained at college, using the chance to join the same football team as you. Every practice, every game, every moment spent on the pitch was an opportunity to be near you, to support you, and to be part of your world. It wasn’t just about playing the sport he loved - it was about being close to the girl he adored.

He had hoped his feelings would eventually become clear, that maybe the way he looked at you, the way he cheered for you a bit louder than anyone else, would convey what words could not. Yet here you were, completely unaware of the depth of his emotions.

“Yeah, really,” he says, his voice softening with a mix of relief and vulnerability. “I guess I’m not very good at showing it. I should have been a bit more obvious, huh?”

You can’t help but let out a scoff, both amused and touched. “Oh, you think?” you say, your voice tinged with playful exasperation. “The subtlety was impressive, but maybe a little too subtle.”

Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he tilts his head, his pupils conveying everything he has failed to tell you the past few years, glistening with fondness. His hand lingers on your cheek and his eyes are back on your lips, the same way they were earlier after the game. So you didn’t imagine it after all. 

Your chest rises but refuses to deflate as you hold in your breath, anticipation running rampant through your body. Jake’s fingers gently caress your cheek, his touch both reassuring and electrifying. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, creates a cocoon of intimacy that feels both exhilarating and calming. His eyes lock onto yours with a mixture of hope and desire, and you can’t help but feel a flush of lust hit your core and love punch your heart.

“Do you…feel similar? To me?” he asks, not sure the right way to phrase the question, the words stuck in his throat in fear that you’ll laugh in his face and ruin any potential opportunity he has right not to claim your lips with his own.

Inhaling, you nod. “Yeah, for a long time.” The admission throws Jake off balance, his brain unable to make sense of your words. You had wanted this as much as him?

His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, his intentions clear and unspoken. The air between you is charged, brimming with the promise of what could be. Your heart races, each second stretching into eternity as you wait for him to close the distance.

You’re almost overwhelmed by the urge to grab him and pull him into you, your mind screaming at him to stop teasing and make the move you’ve been craving. The tension is almost unbearable, the anticipation so thick it feels like it could be sliced with a knife. After years of feeling like you never stood a chance, the least he can do is bridge the gap between you two.

And finally, he does. Once he’s certain you won’t back away, Jake closes the space between you with a fervent urgency. His lips crash onto yours, the soft plumpness melding with yours in a symphonic harmony. The kiss is both tender and intense, a mingling of passion and longing that seems to erase all the doubts and fears of the past.

As his lips move against yours, you feel a surge of warmth, a thrilling confirmation of the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, the contact grounding you at the moment. Every touch, every caress, is electric as if he’s been waiting to show you just how much you mean to him.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth, his voice a low, throaty whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His lips continue their relentless exploration, tilting his head to capture every corner of your mouth. He sweeps his tongue along your lips, his movements slow and deliberate, tracing the contours of your mouth with a possessive tenderness.

The kiss becomes intensified as his tongue glides into your mouth, dancing in a primal and captivating rhythm. He explores you with idle enthusiasm, each caress promising the depth of his affections. His hands slip from your waist to your lower back, pushing you close to him. You can feel the solid heat of his chest on yours, the hard planes of his body pushing into you, creating an internal fire that causes your heart to accelerate.

You respond eagerly, your own tongue meeting his in a passionate tango. Your fingers dig into his still-damp biceps, drawing him closer, your bodies melding together in a way that feels impossibly intimate. The outline of his arousal is unmistakable as it presses against your lower abdomen, the towel he’s wearing doing little to mask his growing need.

The sensation of his hardness against you adds a new layer of intensity to the moment, making your breath hitch and your skin flush with warmth. Every movement, every touch, heightens the urgency of your connection. His hands explore your back with a possessive hunger, his touch sending shivers up your spine. 

His hands move with deliberate slowness, tracing intricate patterns along your spine before dipping lower. As his fingers find the slit in your dress, they pause momentarily, teasing you with the promise of what’s to come. The anticipation builds, your breath catching in your throat, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

With a subtle shift, he pushes the fabric aside, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your panties. The intimate contact sends a shockwave through your body, your knees weakening as you lean into him for support. His touch is confident yet gentle, exploring the slick heat between your thighs with eagerness.

Each movement is calculated, designed to elicit the most exquisite reactions from you. Jake’s fingers glide through your folds, finding the sensitive bud that makes your entire body tense with pleasure. He circles it slowly, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp and arch against him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against your ear, his voice husky with desire. "I wish I showed you just how gorgeous you are every day, even in your strip. You look like a fucking vision in those grass-stained shorts."

A guffaw of scepticism leaves your lips but is swiftly bitten back when he puts delightful pressure on your nub, robbing the breath from your lungs.

The sensation is overwhelming, your senses heightened to the point where every touch feels magnified. His other hand remains on your lower back, holding you close, ensuring you don’t escape his grasp. The heat of his body, the firmness of his muscles, the way he’s pressed so intimately against you - it all combines to create a heady cocktail of desire that leaves you dizzy and yearning for more.

His fingers dip lower, teasing your entrance before plunging inside with deliberate, agonising slowness. The invasion is both gentle and commanding, a silent declaration of his control over your pleasure. He moves with a skill that makes your breath hitch and your legs tremble, his thumb continuing to caress your clit in perfect synchrony.

Your own hands, now trembling with need, slide from his biceps to clutch at his shoulders. You pull him even closer, your bodies melding together in a desperate bid for more contact. The towel around his waist loosens, and with a determined tug, you discard it, letting it fall to the floor. His arousal, now unencumbered, presses more insistently against you, the barrier of your new dress between you feeling almost unbearable.

"God, I need you," you whisper, your voice a breathless plea.

He responds with a deep, throaty growl, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss. Your hand moves between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his length. The heat and hardness of him in your grasp send a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. You start to pump him slowly, savouring the feel of him in your hand, the way he twitches and grows even stiffer under your touch.

“Fuck- faster, baby,” he moans into your mouth, relishing in your grip.

You obey his instructions and pump his cock as best as you could, considering your head is in the clouds thanks to his fingers stretching you open. Every stroke of his digits, every brush of his thumb, pushes you closer to the edge. Your moans are soft, breathy, filled with the urgency of your desire. His name slips from your lips in a whispered plea, and he responds by increasing the tempo, his touch becoming more insistent, more demanding as he matches the rhythm of your desperate strokes on his member.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers against your lips, his breath hot and tantalising.

The universe narrows to the sensation of his fingers inside you, a visceral and intense dance. Your body responds eagerly, hips moving in sync with his touches, each thrust bringing you closer to that wonderful, unavoidable release. The pressure rises, your muscles tense, and you breathe in small, quick spurts. Your grasp on his cock is non-existent, and your foremost focus is now on your own high.

And then, with one final, perfectly timed movement of his pointer and middle fingers pressing up against your wall, you shatter. Pleasure washes over you in waves, your body convulsing in his arms, a keening cry escaping your lips. As you come down from the high, your breaths ragged and your body trembling, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

"I'm going to make sure I'm never subtle again," Jake growls, his voice thick with craving.

Without hesitation, he pushes you onto the bed, the urgency in his movements undeniable. He stands over you, stroking himself with a mixture of need and appreciation, his eyes dark with lust. In one swift motion, he grabs your panties and tears them away, the sound of ripping fabric echoing the raw intensity between you.

To have you laying in front of him, your pretty new dress that only he has gotten to see you in now splayed across his bedsheets, the slit sitting on each side of you, exposing your wet cunt, it’s a dream come true.

Jake climbs on top of you, his body a solid, reassuring presence. He positions himself at your entrance, his hardness pressing against your slick folds, the tip of his member kissing your clit, causing you to jolt your back off the bed, the feeling overstimulating against the sensitive rosebud. 

His hands grip your hips possessively, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce determination. "All these years," he mutters, his voice a rough whisper, "I fucking held myself back. But I can't wait any longer, baby."

With a powerful thrust, he enters you, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. You gasp, your body arching up to meet him, the sudden invasion a perfect mix of pain and pleasure. He sets a relentless pace, each thrust deep and demanding, his pent-up desire driving him forward.

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you buck up to match his rhythm, your bodies moving in perfect sync. The room is filled with the sounds of your shared passion, the bed creaking beneath you, the wet sounds of your joining, and the mingled cries of pleasure escaping both of your lips.

Jake's left hand moves from your hips, trailing up your body, slipping over the fabric of your sundress. He pulls down the top, exposing your perfect tits. His eyes darken with lust as he watches them bounce with each thrust, a look of sheer delight crossing his features. He hates to admit it, but during drill practices, he eyes the way they bounce under your t-shirt, only wishing to see them bare. This is much better than he could have ever imagined. He leans down, his mouth capturing one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling with a fervour that makes you moan loudly.

The sensation of his mouth on you, his tongue swirling around your sensitive peak, sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, amplifying the feeling of his cock pounding into you, your walls tightening and drawing him in further. He switches to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention, his teeth grazing lightly, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Jake," you moan, the intensity of the moment building once again. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

"Never," he growls, his voice a primal promise. "I’m going to make you mine, finally."

His hand slips between your bodies, fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubs it in tight, circular motions, perfectly in sync with his thrusts. The added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your entire body trembling with the force of your impending climax.

His movements become even more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with a force that drives you both to the brink. The friction, the heat, the overwhelming need—it all converges into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your second climax crashes over you, your body convulsing around him, pulling him deeper into your core.

With a final, shuddering thrust, Jake finds his release, his moan mingling with yours as he empties himself inside you, hot spurts of his cum filling you up to the brim. The sensation of his warmth spreading through you, the feel of his body pressed so intimately against yours, sends you spiralling into a shared afterglow of satisfaction and exhaustion.

Breathless and trembling, Jake collapses on top of you, his weight a comforting presence. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, planting lazy kisses along your collarbone, his lips warm and tender against your flushed skin. His hands stroke your sides gently, tracing the curve of your waist, his touch soothing and affectionate.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "You wouldn’t even believe how much."

Your arms wrap around him, kissing the top of his head adoringly. “I have a slight clue,” you titter, looking down at his exhausted frame. He looks so cute in this position. Ironically, you have been in this exact pose before; cradling him while he places his head on your chest, except typically you’re in matching pyjamas and watching one of his superhero movies.

How it took you both his long to realise you both liked one another is beyond bafflement. 

Glancing up at you with those shimmering eyes and bright smile, Jake pouts the way he always does, making your heart melt. “I really did find you beautiful, before you dolled yourself up like this,” he explains, hoping that you don’t think for a minute that it was the dress that caused this turn of events. It helped, for sure, but he would have fucked you in front of everyone on the first day he saw you if it was socially acceptable.

Kissing his forehead, much like he does to you, you reassure him. “I know. And I fancied you well before I saw you in that white towel,” you laugh, injecting some lightheartedness into the tender moment.

Sitting up and pulling out of you with a hiss, Jake’s eyes roam your body once again. “We should get you cleaned up before we go to the pool party,” he smiles, slightly sad that he has to share you with the team, rather than spend more alone time with you.

“Or…” you trail off, sitting on your elbows.

“Or?” he prompts, curiosity piqued.

“We could stay here? Order in and just relax the way we always do?” The suggestion is symbolic to you both, each of you scared to admit your feelings the past few years for fear that it would change your relationship dynamic. But nothing has to change, rather just adapt around your already established friendship.

Smiling widely, Jake nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.” He looks at your exposed breasts, a smirk etching on his face. “Can we add fucking some more to that list?”

You laugh, reaching up to pull him back down into a kiss. “Absolutely, but I was still VIP of the game today so I think I deserve something special,” you tease, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He grins against your lips, his hand sliding back down your body to cup your breast. “Fuck yes, anything you want, baby. I’ll make sure it’s better than any trophy.”

His words send a thrill through you, your body responding eagerly to his touch. "Good," you murmur, your lips brushing against his. "Because I've got a few ideas in mind."

_____

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[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[miloformula123fan]

Full fic??

I’ve read that Logan S. felt really lonely being the only American in F1. Like, he wasn’t completely accepted in the grid. Maybe he has an overprotective older sister who is a professional soccer player (like World Cup level good) who finally has time to attend his races. She dislikes most of the grid, except Alex and Oscar, for how they treated her brother. quick to defend Logan and even as far as annihilate them during the annual driver soccer match to prove a point. Im thinking G. Russel pairing due to Logan living in England. he wins her over by treating logan right, acknowledging he could have been welcoming, etc. Just a thought!

OKAY I HONESTLY LOVED THIS! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE (let me know if you want a part 2, because it is a bit of an interesting ending haha)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

edit: i wrote part 2 - it is here

part 3 is here

George Russell x reader, logan sargeant x sister!reader

---

Y/N loves her brother, she really does. Yeah, she’s tried to get to a few of his F2 rounds, but with her soccer taking her around the world, she has had very little time. She has the entire month off though, so what better to do than visit her brother at his home grand prix. Miami is always a party, so maybe she could let loose for a bit, try and relax, and find a guy.

This is quickly vetoed when she finds Logan cooped up in his drivers room. While most people would think that he was excited for the race, most people weren’t Logan’s sister. She could tell he was thinking too hard about something, and it wasn’t good.

“Hey Logie Bear! Whatcha thinking about?” She tried to appear happy, but she could see that Logan’s smile did not reach his eyes

“Nothing, just excited for the race, the car is quick, just aiming for some points, hoping for a safety car. The garage is over there, sorry I have to warm up.” Y/N looked up as Benny entered the room and Logan stood up. She could tell how closed up he was, how he didn’t want to talk at all

“Okay, we’ll talk after the race Logan! Good luck, you'll smash it!” Y/N walked out of the drivers room towards the garage seeing the chaos of it.

Y/N watched as Logan apologised over again and again to his engineer for not making up any more places. She stood there listening to his engineer reassure her younger brother. She eventually decided that she couldn’t listen to it anymore and decided to wait in his garage room.

When he walked in, Y/N could tell he wasn’t sure whether to throw stuff or cry. 

“Hey, hey, come here! It’s okay, it’s okay!” She opened her arms and sat down as Logan fell down into them and hugged her baby brother, as he started talking the words just rushed out

“I just wanted to prove that I deserve to be here, feel like I’m a part of the paddock.” Logan hugged his sister back tightly, hesitating slightly.

“What do you mean? Of course you’re a part of the paddock, you’ve got your seat, y’know?” Y/N was confused as to what her brother meant, from what she had seen, he was welcomed warmly by everyone.

“Yeah but, I’m never invited to the grid parties, no one really ever talks to me, except Alex and Oscar, and Oscar is getting into the rest of the grid through Lando, and Alex is only really talking to me because I mean, he’s my teammate we have to be friends, and I just want everyone to like me… so I thought maybe if I got some points and good overtakes, then people would like me..”

“Oh, Logie… It’ll be okay. If they don’t like you then I think they’re just idiots, but they won’t. They’ll warm up to you, I promise.”

---

George watched as Y/N sprinted up and down. Okay the F1 team was never going to win, particularly when multiple women who were playing in the world cup were playing on the opposition team, but ‘Sargeant’  (who also had the same name as the rookie driver this year, who was sitting in the stands) was dominating, she had more goals then all of the f1 team, so of course the celebrity team won 4-1. She’d almost immediately jumped into the stands once the referee blew the whistle and started talking to Logan, maybe the kid got married young and just didn’t want anyone to realise. 

Although she looked quite similar to Logan, so maybe his sister instead. Either way, she did not seem to like them, she called them all dickheads and shoved them over a few times. George’s knees were sore. But she was still pretty. So he approached Logan and the girl.

“Hello! I’m George and…’

“I’m pretty sure my brother knows your name, Georgie! Why don’t you say hello to him?”

“Y/N-”

“No. Say hi to Logan, George.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, almost forced.

“Hey Logan! Looking forward to the grand prix this weekend?”

“Uhhhh… yeah. ” He turned back to Y/N “I’ve got some stuff to do, so you can make your way back. See ya!”

As soon as Logan was out of listening range, Y/N pulled George in and started whispering, “Listen, I don’t know what problem you have my brother, but you need to get over it ASAP, understood?”

“I.. don’t have a problem with your brother.”

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

George stood there, mouth gaping as she stormed off to grab her bag and then sprinted after Logan. He could almost hear the f1 team laughing at his failed attempt at flirting, but all he could think about ‘was what she said true?’’

---

Y/N was going to cry.

She could see Logan in the family and friends box, hands over his mouth, eyes glassy.

That corner kick should’ve gone in, she thought, we had so many chances and we still fucked it all. Couldn’t even give Megs a proper farewell.

She walks slowly over to her younger brother and let his arms wrap around her

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Dragged you halfway ‘round the world when you should’ve been training only to lose the first game.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. Go pack up, we can head home and spend some time in London relaxing. I’ve got next week off before I need to be back in the factory.”

—

Y/N was awoken by a knock on the front door. Hearing Logan snoring from his bedroom, she got up off the couch, rubbing her eyes and opened the door.

Of all the people she was expecting to see, George Russell would’ve been just about the last on her list “Uhh, hey?”

“Oh, morning! Is your brother up?”

Y/n paused for a moment to let George hear the snores coming from Logan’s bedroom. “Yeah, no, sorry. I can pass on a message?”

“Oh, No I was just going to offer if he was still up to go on a morning jog with him, but as he isn’t…”

“You been doing this often?”

“Almost every week we’ve been in town. I don’t think he understands what or why I’m doing this. But, he’s a good kid, opens up a bit when you talk to him. He likes you, respects you a lot for 2 siblings pursuing their sport across the globe.”

“I’ll make some breakfast and you can stay til Logan wakes up, okay? As a thanks for looking out for him. Hard for me to do from across the globe.” Y/N looked tense, with an almost forced smile. She looked awkward, before stepping back, holding the door open so George could come in.

---

“LOGAN SARGEANT!”

“Hello, dear sister, what do you want?”

“YOU GOT POINTS!”

“I think you must have watched a different grand prix, I got P12.”

“Hamilton and Leclerc got disqualified, something about wood, but you got points!”

“OH MY! AHHH! I had no idea, oh god!”

“YEAH! MY LITTLE BRO FINALLY GETTING F1 POINTS! WOOHOO! We must celebrate when we’re both in town!”

“AHH! Shit, wait I think people are coming in, give me a sec.

You’re on speaker dear sis, Alex, Oscar and George are here.”

“HELLO OSCAR! HI ALEX! HI GEORGE! DID SOMEONE BRING CHAMPAGNE???”

---

Y/N looks at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. Well clearly she had grabbed Logan’s phone before bed last night. She looked at the contact name

‘George - probably calling about something from the GDPA.’

She picked up.

“Before you start talking, I’m not Logan and I have not signed any NDAs related to his contract so, don’t talk to me.”

“Hi Y/N, do you know where Logan is?” George’s voice was way too cheery for however fucking early it is right now.

“Yeah he’s in his bedroom, he grabbed my phone and I grabbed his, why?” Y/N swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, still rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, can you come answer the door?”

“The door, why?” Y/N got up, and walked to her front door and opened the door to …nothing.

“George, are you pulling a prank on me? There’s nothing at the door.”

“You haven’t opened the door!”

“George… Logan and I are in Florida for Christmas. I’m guessing you’re in London.”

“Oh…yes. Bugger. I came to congratulate him on his contract renewal and so now I’ve got food and flowers and stuff and he’s not here!”

“If you go round the block to 20 XXX Close, there’s a single mom there, who will appreciate some Christmas cheer Georgie.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll send it over.”

“Why were you congratulating Logan, George? I didn’t think you cared. Only Alex and Oscar have reached out so far.”

“I..I remember what you said at the soccer match, about Logan feeling ostracised by all of us. So I’ve been trying to make him feel welcomed… not just because you said that, and I like you, but also because I kinda realised we’d all be failing him as a grid, so i thought if I started it, maybe others would catch on. It didn’t work, but I think he feels more included.”

“That’s very nice of you Georgie. I’ll pass on your congrats. Now it’s like 7am here, and I didn’t need to be awake today, so i will be heading back to bed. Night Georgie boy.”

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 9

As you guys wanted, here's me doubling up on posting days. It will (hopefully) be twelve hours apart so that each chapter can get some love.

In this chapter we have a lot of flirting between Eddie and Steve. The Party being "meh" *shrugs shoulders* at Steve being bi. And Robin being the most soulmate a guy could ask for.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

That night they were all gathered to watch the amateur theatrical society put on Much Ado About Nothing.

Even the ones who had been reluctant to join in were doubled over in laughter at the trick the Prince pulled on Beatrice and Benedict. The way they cried when Hero was accused of cheated on Claudio. And cheered when it was resolved happily ever after.

Mike complained about it all the way to the car. “We were forced to read this play in eighth grade and I hated it. I never knew it was funny.”

Eddie put his arm around his shoulder. “That is the unfortunate side effect of the education system. They suck the joy out of all of everything.”

“Normally I’m rolling my eyes at Eddie’s rants,” Robin said, “but I’m going to have to agree with him on this one. They just want sanitized versions of everything.”

Steve nodded. “Like what’s with the jump in American history when we stop in eighth grade at the Civil War and then all the way to WWII in eleventh grade, with only a brief mention of WWI as it related to WWII. Are they really trying to tell us that nothing happened in those eighty years of note? Like the fuck?”

Mike blinked at him. “Holy shit, I never even realized.”

The kids looked around at each other in shock.

“They push math and science,” Eddie continued, “but shit on everything else, except sports.”

He winced when realized what he had said. He looked over at Steve with an apology on his lips, but Steve was nodding.

“And they have to be the right sports, too,” Steve agreed. “Wrestling, swimming, soccer...anything outside the big three baseball, football, or basketball. Trust me, I got a lot of flack on being on the swim team. It was ‘gay’.”

“What?” Will squawked. “Why?”

Eddie licked his lips. “Little, teeny, tiny uniforms.” He emphasized the point holding his fingers not that far apart.

Dustin snorted. “Can’t be any worse than the basketball shorts.”

Steve looked upwards as he chewed on the bottom of his lip.

Dustin’s eyes bulged out of his head. “How much worse are we talking about here?”

“Speedo.”

Lucas frowned. “What the fuck is a Speedo?”

Eddie was practically vibrating in his skin. “Can I tell them, Stevie? Can I please?”

Steve let out a little sigh. The sigh the Party lovingly called his mom sigh. It was the sound he made when he knew no mater what he did it was going to end badly for him, so he just...let it happen.

He waved at Eddie to go ahead.

“Instead of swim trunks, that have a leg on them,” Eddie crowed, “Speedos are swim underpants. They cover the junk, the ass, and that’s it.”

“And you deliberately wore these things?” Max asked in interest. More interest than Lucas or any of the guys were comfortable with.

“I’m good at it,” Steve said, blush creeping up his ears and down his throat from the stain on his cheeks. “The uniform wasn’t as bad Eddie’s making it out to be.”

Gareth snorted. “Nope, they really are that bad. There was a period of time where–”

Eddie slammed his hand over Gareth’s mouth. “There’s no need to tell them about that, Gare.”

Steve looked over at Brian.

“Your senior year Eddie forced all of Hellfire to watch your meets.”

“Bri!” Eddie protested.

Steve looked over at Eddie and raised an eyebrow. “You like the...what was you it called it,” he said tapping his finger on his lips, “the ‘little, teeny, tiny’ uniform, Eds?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “I am but a gay man in a small town, so sue me!”

“I always preferred the lifeguard uniforms at the community pool,” Steve said. “Less wedgies.”

“Babe,” Eddie scoffed, “those shorts and tank left very little to the imagination. At least with the Speedo you knew what you were getting. With the lifeguard uniform it was all fantasy.”

Steve laughed. “I bet you were the kind who faked drowning to get CPR from their favorite lifeguard.”

“I can honestly say, I’ve never done that.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked all smiles. “Can you prove that?”

Eddie got up close to him and whispered, “Yeah, darlin’. I think I would have remembered you rescuing me before the Upside Down.” He winked at him and sauntered off. The rest of the band hastily said their goodbyes and hurried after their ride home.

Steve’s face was as red as his old life guard uniform. “Right. Let’s get home, yeah?”

Dustin eye’s narrowed at him for a moment. “Steve Harrington, are you crushing on my DM?”

The remaining eight looked at Dustin in shock.

“Dude!” Will hissed. “You can’t just ask that in public! What if someone overheard you?”

Dustin looked around and waved his hand around him. “There is literally no one here. I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t think it was a safe time to ask. But I’m going home with my mom as soon as she gets here and I will not be stymied.”

Steve ducked his head. “And if I did like boys, that would be okay with everyone?”

Everyone just looked around at each other and there was this collective shrug.

“Do you still like girls?” Max asked, genuinely curious.

Steve nodded shyly.

Lucas frowned. “You can like both?”

“Like David Bowie!” El said with her serene smile. “He likes both. Freddie Mercury from Queen, too.”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Exactly like that, El!”

Her smile grew.

“It’s okay if you like Eddie that way,” Mike said softly.

All the heads snapped to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, okay. I have a lot to work on regarding the whole Lucas thing, but I’m not a complete ass.”

“Thank you,” El said and kissed his cheek. “You just have a lot growing up to do. We all do. We just need to give each other the chances to do so safely. Or at least that’s what Joyce keeps telling me.”

Steve gave her a hug. “Thanks, Supergirl.”

He looked out at all his friends. The people who were more his family then his own parents.

“I might have a small...” he raised his finger and thumb, “crush on a certain metalhead DM who recently joined the Party in March...”

Robin scoffed. “And by little he means huge!” She spread out her arms all the way out.

Dustin’s head snapped around to Steve. “If you two get together, he better treat you right. You deserve it.”

Steve blinked. Considering how Dustin had worded his original question, he had been sure that Dustin was going to him not to break Eddie’s heart.

He gave Dustin a hug and kissed the top of his head.

He really shouldn’t have doubted this kid.

Just then, Claudia pulled up in her station wagon and Dustin, El, Will and Mike all piled in after saying their goodbyes.

“He totally has the hots for you, by the way,” Max said dryly.

Steve blinked at her for a moment. “How do you know that? Does he spend all his days learning alt rock on his guitar or something for me?”

Max just blinked at him. “Huh. You aren’t as stupid as I thought.” And then she just started walking toward the car.

Steve scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “So to make sure I got this right, Max is saying Eddie has the hots for me because he’s been learning my favorite songs for me on his guitar?”

“That’s what it sounded like to me, man,” Lucas said with a half shrug.

“I’m with Lucas on this one,” Robin agreed. “So maybe you should do what I’ve been suggesting for the last three weeks and you know ASK HIM OUT!”

Lucas giggled.

“Shush you,” Steve admonished. “Get to the car.” He pointed at Robin. “You are spending the night with me to help plan out something cool.”

Robin saluted and Lucas just rolled his eyes and they all walked to the car to end another great night at the fair.

****

“Let’s play to your strengths,” Robin said, sitting cross-legged on Steve’s bed.

“Sports, sewing, and history,” Steve said, ticking them off on his fingers. “Fat lot of good that’s going to do me. It’s not as though I can whip out something overnight as a token of my affection.”

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something fancy. You could do something small. Like maybe use that fancy red thread you got at the weavers yesterday.”

He blushed. “I wouldn’t know where to start. Everything I know how to make is either winter stuff or something he’d never use.”

“He uses that handkerchief all the time,” Robin pointed out. “You could do something like that.”

Steve flopped dramatically on his back. “Not if he knew it was made from that fancy thread I got. He’d want to protect it.”

Robin had to give him that one. Because that would be an Eddie thing to do. And while the sentiment was sweet it would make Steve sad that he never used it.

Suddenly Steve sat up. “Oh!”

She blinked at him. “What’s ‘oh’?”

“He was telling me just last week,” he explained, “that the bag he used to hold all his dice for their game got a hole in it and it kept spilling the dice all over the inside of his backpack!”

Robin grinned. “Let’s pick out the best material to match that pretty thread.”

Steve nodded. “I just have to make a quick phone call to find out how big the bag should be and I can have this done in no time at all.”

He called Dustin and told him his idea. Dustin was ecstatic and told him everything he needed to know.

Robin and Steve then dug into his material stores and picked out a nice black felt and a satin red lining to make doubly sure Eddie wouldn’t lose the dice down the gaping maw that was his backpack.

He then showed Robin how to make patterns and cut them. Then he got to work.

Even with how easily Robin got bored, she watched the whole time with fascination. How he embroidered his pattern into what would be the front of the bag. How quickly and evenly Steve stitched the pieces of cloth together. He explained the process every step of the way and her eyes just lit up.

He turned the bag right side out and fitted it with silver draw string. He pulled it taut and held it up to Robin to see.

She reached out and gently took it from him. “That’s so cool. You do a bunch of these at work and send them to Katie as way to gauge reactions to your work, while you make bigger pieces.”

Steve licked his lips. “You really think these would sell?”

“And I think Eddie would be pleased as punch that he got the first official Harrington Pattern design.”

Steve took it back from her and smiled. “That would make it even more special, wouldn’t it?”

Robin grinned. “Yes, yes it would.”

He threw his arms around her. “You’re the best soulmate anyone could possibly ask for.”

She blushed but held him tight. “You too, Stevie.”

When Steve finally pulled back he tapped his finger on his lips. “Now what to make you.”

Robin squealed. “But you already made something awesome. The pirate costume was amazing, you don’t have to do more just because you made Eddie something.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, but I just tailored the clothes. I didn’t make them. I want to make you something.”

She scoffed. “Like the only thing I need are gloves for marching band. Since I have to have hand-me-downs, they are either too tight or way too big.”

His eyes lit up. “I’ve never made gloves before. That would be fun and interesting to try.”

“How would you even measure something like that?” Robin asked, a small amount of hope creeping into her voice.

Steve grinned. “Do you remember those ugly ass hand turkeys they made us draw in elementary school?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Just. Like. That.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wait are you serious?”

Steve just grinned.

****

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

I'm not 100% sure my history experience in school is universal in the US, but in order to bridge the gap you actually had to an elective history class called Twentieth Century. Like it was straight up bullshit. And before you ask, you can bet your ass I took that class. It was taught by my favorite teacher. Of course I took that class.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @microbiology @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter

[lazycats-stuff]

I had read a fic of yours where Batson was Australian, I don't know if you have other requests like this but if you accept, make one with Batson being Brazilian and he likes football, carnival and who likes to listen and dance to music by the great diva Anitta

Okay, that's cool. I never really knew a lot about Brazil, but I love learning more about it. Bruce is really mister worldwide lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is Brazilian.

Warnings: none

According to Jason, Bruce has become mister Worldwide. Why, I might hear you asking? He, as a playboy, sleeps with a lot of women. One of those women was a Brazilian model and the two had a son together. Bruce took a DNA first because he didn't want to take any type of chances.

It wouldn't be a first time that a woman tried to claim that a kid was his, but wasn't. Turns out, DNA came back telling him that (Y/N) was his son. Thankfully, the woman was very understanding and Bruce sent her money every month and he would visit when he could.

Unfortunately, (Y/N)'s mom passed away when he was a teen and he came to live in the USA with his father and half brothers. It was a little bit weird at first, a new city, a father who is a vigilante, his brothers too, a butler who is their handler so to speak...

Either way, it was weird, but he was happy to be here with his family. That was something that he thought that Americans were lacking sometimes. That feeling of tight nit love and family. His family, including grandmas, grandpas, aunts and much more lived within a walking distance from him.

Okay, that may sound like Americans don't share that same sentiment about family, but (Y/N) didn't really see it. It may that in Brazil that is just amplified by 10 or it could be something else of course. However, his family is tight knit and very loving.

(Y/N) didn't think that he would have that here in America, but hey, he can't really complain can he.

However, there is a single thing he will fight until the day he dies. His fellow Brazilian men and women, his brothers and sisters would agree. Soccer is not football. Football is football, you play with your feet. That's why is so popular.

And that's why Europeans and Latinos went nuts for it. Honestly, (Y/N) watches every game with Brazil's national team, even if Bruce had to pay more for the program. He has the money. He can't let his son suffer, can he?

Also, American Football should be named American Soccer, because the ball is never on the ground. (Y/N) will die by that statement and he will fight everyone he needs to fight with to prove it.

Until his last breath and last drop of blood.

One thing he loves more than anything, alongside the football of course, is the famous Rio de Janeiro carnival. He made Bruce and the rest of the family go every single year with him. Thankfully, he still has his Brazilian passport with him.

And the family has a translator for when they go, because not a lot of people speak English, only in bigger cities and popular tourist sites. It's fun to see (Y/N) speak his native language with so much passion and everyone has decided to learn it to talk to (Y/N).

(Y/N) was proud and nothing but supportive, even though at times they were butchering the language, but it's always the thought that matters. And Portuguese is an easier language to pick up. (Y/N) even had some rewards for them.

Every time they could hold a some what correct conversation when it comes to grammar and vocabulary, they would get a dish from the Brazilian cuisine. It's the famous Feijoada and it's just (Y/N)'s favorite. Everyone loved when (Y/N) made it and it was with his grandma's recipe.

That's what motivated them to learn, because even Damian swore by that dish and he loved it the most. Bruce and the rest loved it, it was different then the rest of the American cuisine. Of course, (Y/N) introduced them to another dishes, but everyone loved the Feijoada.

(Y/N) knew it.

One thing he loves is listening to Anitta. He loves her music and they would often find him dancing while he was cleaning, dusting, vacuuming and other times. It made him happy and Bruce found (Y/N) humming the melody and the lyrics every day.

Everyone soon knew the lyrics to the songs and the melody. And besides, they are all learning Portuguese and it was fun to learn it that way. Dick found her songs great and listened to it during his workouts and Dick loved it.

And one thing that Bruce was proud of was the fact that (Y/N) didn't decided to assimilate. He still has his values and he wasn't afraid to say that he is Brazilian. If he has an interview he is often found correcting people and he is not afraid to say it.

Due to the fact that he is not afraid to say he is from Brazil, people of Brazil have claimed him and whenever he comes, they just shower him with love. He is extremely popular and Bruce knows he shouldn't worry about it, but still.

Bruce worries about his children all of the time, especially when they are in another country, especially on vacation. (Y/N) often told him not to worry and did Bruce listen?

No.

One thing more thing that made Bruce love Brazil more than anything in this world is the fact that they take their hygiene more than some Americans do. (Y/N) said to everyone that during the summer he would take 3 showers per day sometimes.

Damian found that interesting. Brazil is a humid and hot country, considering that it's a tropical country and the heat is often unforgiving.

(Y/N) said that the shower made him slow down and think about relaxing. He often clears his head and feels less stress afterwards. He has explained the shower routine, but still, the family they don't really understand it, but hey, as long (Y/N) is happy.

And one thing that Brazilians love doing that Bruce found nice was the way that they are affectionate. Kisses, hugs and touching. Of course, with consent. (Y/N) understood that not really liked it, but his family loved it.

Damian would often get picked randomly and hugged from behind. Damian would often grumble about it, but he loved it. Bruce loved the hugs and the rest loved the hugs too.

Bruce was just happy that one of them was normal emotionally. (Y/N) was trained in martial arts to protect himself, like everyone, but decided to not be a vigilante. He just couldn't be and Bruce respected it.

(Y/N) was their safety net and nobody would have it any other way.

[guillotinna]

I keep seeing these Gen z is task force 141 and I wanna join

Anytime you use a computer, you do that stupid movie hacker trope of exaggerated typing and say "I'm in"

Saying "POV" in front of sentences

In the group chat saying "1 like and I'll kms", liking your own message and then saying "damn guess I gotta"

I see a lot of these posts were Gaz and Soap would understand y/n....bffr, no those geezers would not

No one knows what the gen z kid is saying they just know it's probably not good

"You're telling me a shrimp fried this rice?"

You have a small photo you keep tucked in your chest pocket and after enough times seeing you looking lovingly at it, one of the guys asks who it is. Is it a s/o from back home? 😏😏

You say no and pull out a photo card of your fave singer and they're like ??? Really

One time during a particularly physical scuffle with the enemy, you get thrown to the ground and huff out "one hop this time" only to promptly tackle tf outta your assailant while saying "take it back now yall"

Reads everyone's zodiac charts except ghost bc he won't tell his birthday let alone the time he was born so you just make one up

Price calls a 6 am meeting to which you say "double it and give to the next person"

*Alexa, play teenagers by MCR*

If you had time describe the base, you'd say it smells like ball sweat, blood and war crimes which everyone took offense to for different reasons

Would absolutely get soaps doodles tattooed

Actually speaking of which, imagine getting caught giving yourself stick and pokes with a pen and being banned from using pens period

You'd be in a meeting with a #2 pencil

Ofc a gen z member would be absolutely feral which very little regard for their own safety much to the dismay of the others

Quoting "Oh these aren't homemade, they were made in a factory....a bomb factory......they're bombs." All the time around soap even though he has no idea what you're talking about

You don't spent too much alone time with ghost bc he likes quiet and you can't be alone with your thoughts which is why you lean more towards spending time with soap or gaz

I just like puns so I'm gonna add this but gen z love borgs (a customized gallon jug of alcohol that is usually given a name) and yours is appropriately named taskforce 1-borg-1

this is mainly for my americans but i know pretty much the whole world got beef with engl*nd: before you met Soap, you thought the entire 141 was en*lish so when you finally did meet him, you said "oh thank god" with a sigh

americans 🤝 scotts

making fun of english "people"

"Pull up in the monster, automobile gangsta With a bad bitch that came fr-" "....sergeant, comms off please"

you show Ghost WAP and he has to take a walk

*price yelling at gaz and soap*: KYLE GARRICK AND JOHN MACTAVISH GET IN HERE- Y/n: oop not the government name

Another for my US baddies: if your'e ever arguing with any of the guys, the nail in the coffin would be "and it's called soccer"

"one more like and i'll-" "enough!"

you call Price "ms. girl" and he could not be more confused

someone asks "do you serve?" and u reply "yah, serve cunt"

when asked why you decided to join the military you said something like: "well i didnt think i'd live past 18 so when I did, i ended up here".....crickets from the rest of the team

"good thing we only have showers on base because i would have already taken a toaster bath by now"

ask Gaz "no bitches?🤨" one more time see what happens

price: the enemies have taken civvies hostage and blocked off all exits and entrances to the town-" y/n: "omg tea"

Also calling price "capt. Save-a-hoe"....I wanna be saaaavvveddd ;)

If you took a shot every time you said "rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, I dive in her cervix", you'd be dead lmao

When asked if they like the military they'd say "it was either this or the psych ward so yah, I'll take it"

Quoting MPGIS constantly and no one even sort of knows what that is ("Crack. Is that what you smoke? You smoke crack?")

Some detainee being interrogated is spilling some nonsense, so you hit them with "oh brother this guy stinks!" And then with the butt of your gun

"Little bad trini bitch but she mixed with China, real thick vagina, smuggle bricks to-" "SARGENT ENOUGH"

Falling asleep on team mates (minus ghost's) shoulders mostly because the most peace they get is when you're unconscious

*when y/n hears any slightly suggestive/dirty phrase*: what are we talking about 😏 (iykyk)

Same energy as: " born next to a nuclear power plant, has an IQ of 2 and was hit in the head with several Rocks as a child"

Vine quotes out the wazoo, it's just awful for the rest of the team lmao

Replying to everything with "on god?"

soap: "what are you 6?" y/n: "yah 6 inches deep in your mom".....you did not walk away from that unscathed to say the least...worth it tho

[dinas-a-bird]

For the Love of the Game

Pairing: soccer!Ellie Williams x soccer!fem!reader

Warnings: SFW, angst with a happy/hopeful ending, mean ellie and reader, Arsenal woso au, rivalry, hostility, first kiss, cursing, use of y/n

Summary: As a new sign on the Arsenal squad you seem to click with everyone, except the defender Ellie Williams. or i couldnt find what I wanted to read so I wrote it instead

Word Count: 4,005

A/N: this is my longest piece of writing yet and also probably my favorite. I kept the soccer terms to a minimum because I know they are difficult to understand if you've never played the sport. I've been meaning to write a woso au fic for quite some time mainly because i'm a huge fan of soccer and have played it my entire life, so i'm supper happy I finally got around to this. Sorry in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

quick sidebar: I am so upset about Australia not making it to the WWC finals.

Pt 2: here

You sat in the locker room, lacing up your cleats, your mind racing with anticipation for the upcoming training session. Soccer was your passion, your lifeblood, and being a new sign on the Arsenal team was both a dream come true and a challenge you welcomed with open arms. The energy in the room was a mix of excitement and seriousness, as your new teammates chatted and laughed, sharing stories and trading banter.

Katie, a fellow teammate, leaned over with a playful grin. "You ready to kick some ass on the field today, y/n?"

You grinned back, your eyes shining with determination. "You know it, McCabe. Ready to show 'em what I'm made of."

As the training session began, you threw yourself into the drills, your love for the game evident in every sprint, every pass, every shot on goal. It was a fierce battle, each player giving her all, striving for excellence. Amid the sweat and shouts, there was a particular presence that caught your attention—Ellie Williams. The enigmatic American player was a force to be reckoned with, known for her skill and her no-nonsense attitude. Your interactions had always been colored with a hint of hostility and rivalry, Williams sharp wit and biting remarks keeping you on your toes.

"Nice touch, y/n!" Leah Williamson’s encouragement broke through your concentration, and she sent a quick nod and smile in your direction.

After the grueling training session, you followed the team into the locker room. The energy had shifted, the air filled with exhaustion and accomplishment. You were quick to shed your gear, peeling off your sweaty kit, replacing it with a band tee and ripped jeans. As you looked around, you caught Williams' gaze—surprisingly not one of antagonism, but something different, harder to define.

"Like what you see, Williams?" Your playful remark caught Ellie off guard, and a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you moved toward your locker. You could practically feel Ellie's eyes on you as you changed, a mixture of curiosity and something else you couldn't quite place apparent on her face.

The banter continued as you and your teammates made plans for drinks later that evening. The idea of spending time together outside of the pitch was new, a tentative step toward forming friendships beyond the pitch. The mention of Williams' not wanting to go to yet another team bonding session didn't escape your notice, a reminder of your ongoing rivalry and tension.

As the evening approached, you found yourself in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The exchange with Ellie in the locker room had been different, a crack in the armor she had always presented. But you were cautious, unsure of what it all meant. Your heart raced as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for the night ahead. You chose an outfit that felt comfortable yet confident—black trousers and a light pink button-up, French-tucked for a touch of casual elegance.

Your phone chimed, and you picked it up to see a text from Leah. "I'm outside ready to bring you to team drinks dummy." You chuckled, sending a quick response that you were on your way. Soon enough, you found yourself in Leah's car, driving towards the nearby pub where the team was gathering for drinks and bonding.

The pub was alive with the chatter and laughter of your teammates as you entered. You greeted the girls and grabbed a drink before sitting down next to Leah, who gave you a knowing look. "You think Ellie’s actually going to come?" Leah whispered, her eyes glancing over to the entrance.

"Dunno, don't really care to be honest," You replied with a shrug. "She's been a right twat for as long as she's known me."

Leah hummed in acknowledgment, and the two of you settled into the lively atmosphere. Your eyes wandered over the group, spotting Ellie’s absence. You couldn't help but wonder if the tension between you had kept her away.

After a while, your impatience grew, and you checked your watch. "Damn, she really didn't want to come," you muttered under your breath, feeling a mix of annoyance and disappointment. You leaned back in your seat, your mind lost in your thoughts.

Leah noticed your mood shift and rubbed your shoulder gently. "What's wrong, y/n/n?"

You sighed, a hint of frustration in your voice. "Nothing, just thought maybe she'd actually show up for once."

As the minutes ticked by, your frustration turned into resignation. You finished your drink and decided to get another one. "I'm going to get another drink," you announced to the group, receiving nods of acknowledgment before making your way to the bar.

"One whiskey, on the rocks, please," you ordered, your tone weary. You leaned against the bar, waiting for your drink and watching the team engage in playful conversations. Your mind drifted, thinking about the complicated relationship you had with Ellie Williamson.

The bartender quickly served your drink, and you took a slow sip, the cool liquid offering a momentary distraction from your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder why Ellie’s presence or in this case lack thereof, affected you so much.

As you continued to observe the team, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out to see a text from Leah, asking if you were okay. You smiled faintly and texted back, "Yeah, just needed a breather. Don't worry, I'm good."

With your drink in hand, you found an empty stool at the bar and settled in. You watched as the team's laughter filled the pub. You took another sip of your drink, feeling a mix of emotions bubbling within you.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone sat down next to you until you heard a familiar voice. "Whatcha doing over here, mate?" Caitlin Foord's voice broke through your reverie.

You looked up, a surprised smile forming on your lips. "Hey, just needed another drink, that's all."

Caitlin chuckled, giving you a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Well, the teams missing you, might wanna head back over soon."

You couldn't help but appreciate Caitlin's attempt at lightening the mood. You finished your drink and thanked the bartender, making your way back to the group. As you approached, Katie McCabe greeted you with a big smile. "Look who finally decided to rejoin us!"

Your lips twitched into a smile as you took a seat among your teammates. The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, and you found yourself easing into the conversation. You exchanged playful banter with the girls, your guard slowly lowering as the evening progressed.

Ellie’s absence was no longer a looming presence in your mind. Instead, you found yourself immersed in laughter and conversation with the team. It was as if, for a brief moment, the rivalry and tension between you and Williams never existed.

As the night wore on, you glanced at your watch, realizing it was getting late. You excused yourself from the group, giving everyone hugs and promising to see them soon. 

Outside the pub, you hailed a taxi with more success than the previous nights. You settled into the back seat, feeling contentment wash over you. The evening had been unexpectedly enjoyable, a welcome break from the usual tension.

When you arrived home, you thanked the driver and made your way to your apartment. You kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch, a small smile playing on your lips.

The events of the evening continued to replay in your mind as you lay on the couch. The unexpected sense of belonging with your teammates had provided a refreshing change from the usual tension with Ellie Williams. 

As the days passed, your thoughts kept drifting back to that night at the pub. You found yourself analyzing every interaction, every word spoken between you and your teammates, including the moments when Ellie’s absence was conspicuous.

Training sessions were business as usual, the banter and drills had become familiar over time. You couldn't deny that a part of you was secretly hoping for another chance to interact one-on-one with Ellie, even if it meant more of your usual back-and-forth.

One evening, after a rigorous training session, you were walking to your car when you noticed Ellie leaning against it. You tensed involuntarily, your heart rate increasing as your palms grew slightly clammy. "What do you want, Williams?" You asked, your voice laced with a mixture of defiance and caution.

Ellie straightened up and crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "Just making sure you're not slacking off on your game, y/l/n," she retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

You raised an eyebrow, annoyance and amusement flickering in your eyes. "Trust me, you're not the one I need to prove anything to."

Ellie’s gaze held yours for a moment before she seemed to relent, her posture relaxing slightly. "Yeah, well, don't get too comfortable. I'm not here to make friends."

You let out a rueful chuckle. "Trust me, the feeling's mutual."

As the weeks went by, you and Ellie continued your dance of hostility, your interactions marked by barbed remarks and wary glances.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice, You found yourself sitting alone in the locker room, lost in thought. You were startled when the door opened, and Ellie walked in, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

"What do you want, Williams?" You said, your tone a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.

Ellie hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice lacking its usual bite. "Look, I may not like you, but I respect your dedication to the game. You're a damn good player, and you've earned your place on this team."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. It wasn't the response you had expected. "Thanks, I guess."

Ellie’s gaze held yours, her usually confident demeanor replaced by a vulnerability that caught you off guard. "I've had to fight tooth and nail to get where I am, and I won't let anyone make me doubt myself. Not even you."

You nod your head slowly. "I get it. We all have our battles."

There was a pause before Ellie spoke again, her voice softer this time. "Look, y/l/n, I'm not saying we're suddenly going to be best buddies or anything. But maybe... maybe we can find a way to coexist without tearing each other apart. For the team sakes if anything."

You studied Ellie’s face, seeing a sincerity that was unexpected. For the first time, you allowed yourself to truly consider the possibility of a truce between the two of you. "Yeah, maybe we can." The tension in the room seemed to ease slightly, replaced by a tentative understanding. 

However, the fragile truce you had established was put to the test during an Arsenal v Arsenal scrimmage. The game was intense, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for victory. As the clock ticked down and the score remained tied, the pressure mounted.

You found yourself being subbed onto the pitch after halftime, your heart pounding as you chased after the ball. You maneuvered past defenders with finesse, your focus on the goal. Just as you were about to take the shot, Ellie’s foot came out of nowhere, intercepting the ball and sending it in a different direction.

"Fancy move, y/l/n, but you'll have to do better than that," Ellie’s voice taunted from behind you.

Your frustration flared, and you couldn't hold back your retort. "Maybe I would if someone didn't think they were the queen of the fucking pitch."

The game continued with both sides giving it their all. The tension on the pitch was thick, mirroring the tension that still lingered between you and Ellie. As the match entered the final minutes, you found yourself facing off against Ellie near the goal. The ball was within reach, victory hanging in the balance.

You dribbled past Ellie, your determination fueling your every move. You took the shot, the ball sailing towards the goal. But Ellie was there, deflecting the shot with a well-timed block. The whistle blew, signaling the end of the scrimmage with a draw.

As the team regrouped in the locker room, your frustration lingered. You couldn't shake the feeling that the rivalry with Ellie had affected your performance. You sat alone in front of your cubby, your thoughts a jumble of emotions.

Ellie approached, her expression unreadable. "You played well out there. But you've got to learn not to let your emotions get the best of you."

Your temper flared, the familiar resentment bubbling up. "Oh, I'm sorry if I don't have years of experience in keeping my cool like you."

Ellie’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it seemed as though you were on the brink of another confrontation. But then, unexpectedly, Ellie sighed. "Look, I'm not saying this to be nice, but I know you're a damn good player, anybody with a decent set of eyes can see it. You just need to channel that fire in the right direction."

You looked at Ellie, surprised by the genuine advice. It was a side of her that you rarely saw—the vulnerability beneath the layers of hostility. "Thanks," you muttered, your pride making it difficult to fully acknowledge the concession.

Ellie nodded, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she turned and walked away. The encounter left you with a mix of conflicting emotions. Maybe, there was more to your rivalry than you had initially thought.

Weeks turned into months, and you and Ellie continued to navigate the delicate balance between rivalry and mutual respect. Your interactions became less charged, your exchanges more civil. Training sessions saw fewer verbal jabs and more focused drills.

And then, one day, it happened. It was a routine practice, but something was different. You found yourself looking at Ellie in a new light, noticing the subtle nuances in her expressions and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, even if it was rare.

During a break, as you were catching your breath, Ellie approached you. "Not bad out there today."

Your heart raced, your nerves betraying you. "Thanks, Williams."

Ellie hesitated for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer than usual. "You know, sometimes it's okay to acknowledge your strengths. It doesn't make you any less of a competitor."

You met Ellie’s gaze, seeing a glimmer of something more in her eyes. You felt a connection, a shared understanding that ran deeper than your rivalry. In that moment, you realized that you were more alike than you had ever wanted to admit.

As you both stood there, the tension between you had shifted. It was as if a new chapter had begun, one that held the promise of something beyond the animosity you had known. And in that small shift, you saw a glimpse of the possibility for a different kind of connection—one that went beyond the field, beyond the rivalry, and into uncharted territory.

The weeks that followed saw a gradual evolution in you and Ellie’s relationship. You both continued to challenge each other on the pitch, but there were moments of unexpected friendliness that seemed to catch you both off guard.

During a particularly intense training session, you found yourself locked in a one-on-one with Ellie. Her movements were precise and calculated. As you managed to get past Ellie and score a goal, you couldn't help but feel a surge of triumph.

Ellie’s expression was a mix of frustration and begrudging admiration. "Not bad. Looks like you've been working on your footwork."

You caught your breath, your heart racing from the exertion. "Well, someone has to score goals for the team."

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a trace of a smile tugging at her lips. "Don't get too cocky. This was just practice."

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Ellies presence. You couldn't ignore the way your heart raced whenever Ellie was near or the moments when your gazes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary.

One evening, after another successful game, the team decided to go out for a celebratory dinner. You found yourself sitting across from Ellie at the restaurant, your interactions surprisingly easy. You traded stories and laughs, and you couldn't help but marvel at the way Ellie’s sharp wit and dry humor had you smiling genuinely.

As the night wore on, the group began to disperse, leaving you and Ellie alone at the table. The atmosphere had shifted from hostility to something more complex, and you found yourself wanting to explore it further.

"You know, we've come a long way from where we started," You said, your voice tinged with both curiosity and vulnerability.

Ellie nodded, her expression more thoughtful than usual. "Yeah, I guess we have."

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if we weren't rivals. If we could actually get along."

Ellie’s gaze held yours, her eyes searching for something. "It's not that simple, y/n. We've got history."

You nodded, understanding the truth in Ellie’s words. "I know. But maybe we could start over. Put the rivalry behind us."

Ellie’s guard seemed to momentarily waver, revealing a glimpse of uncertainty. "And why would we do that?"

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you voiced what had been lingering in your mind. "Because I think there's more to you than the tough exterior you show the world, Ellie. And I think we could actually be friends."

Ellie’s expression was that of surprise. For a moment, you held your breath, unsure of how Ellie would respond.

"You've got a lot of nerve, y/l/n," Ellie finally said, her tone defensive.

You met Ellie’s gaze. "Yeah, well, maybe that's what it takes to break down walls."

Ellie seemed to study you for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "You're relentless, you know that?"

You grinned. "It's one of my best qualities."

The evening ended on a surprisingly positive note, with you and Ellie parting ways with a newfound understanding.

In the days that followed, you and Ellie’s interactions continued to evolve. You found yourselves sharing occasional moments of friendship, whether it was a congratulatory pat on the back after a tough training session or a shared joke that left you both laughing. However, the underlying tension remained, occasionally resurfacing in a sharp remark or a competitive challenge on the field.

One sunny afternoon, the team gathered for another friendly scrimmage. You and Ellie were on opposing sides, your rivalry intensifying as you fought for control of the ball. 

During a break, you approached the sidelines to catch your breath. You glanced over to where Ellie was standing, her chest heaving from the exertion. Your eyes met, and you couldn't help but offer a nod of acknowledgment. Ellie responded with a curt nod of her own, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual respect that had slowly begun to form between you.

As the scrimmage continued, your mind drifted back to your conversation at the restaurant. You wondered if Ellie had taken your words to heart, if there was a chance for you to truly move beyond the rivalry that had defined your relationship for so long.

The opportunity to explore this newfound connection presented itself one evening after practice. You found yourself alone, yet again, in the locker room, lost in thought. You were startled when the door opened, and Ellie walked in, her expression that of annoyance.

"Can't believe you managed to score that goal," Ellie muttered, her arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Jealous, Williams?"

Ellie rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in her gaze. "As if."

Your lips twitched into a smile. "You know, we could make a pretty good team if we put our differences aside."

Ellie’s response was a mixture of surprise and skepticism. "You're actually suggesting we team up?"

You shrugged. "Why not? We both know how to play to our strengths. And imagine the look on everyone's faces if we actually worked together."

Ellie seemed to consider the proposition for a moment before relenting. "Fine. But this doesn't mean we're suddenly best friends or anything."

You grinned. "Of course not. Just allies on the field."

Over the following weeks, you and Ellie’s partnership began to take shape. You pushed each other to excel, your competitive spirit driving you both to new heights. The tension between you had transformed into a unique synergy, a blend of rivalry and friendship that was as unexpected as it was effective.

Off the field, your interactions continued to be marked by moments of both warmth and hostility. You found yourself enjoying Ellie’s company more than you would have thought possible, relishing the glimpses of vulnerability that occasionally surfaced beneath her tough exterior.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, you found yourself sitting on the bleachers of the empty stadium. You gazed out at the field, lost in thought. You were startled when Ellie appeared beside you, her gaze fixed on the same view.

"Enjoying the peace and quiet?" Ellie’s voice was unusually soft.

You smiled, a hint of nostalgia in your eyes. "Yeah, it's a nice change from the chaos of the game."

Ellie nodded in agreement. "You know, I never thought I'd say this, but... you've made training a little less unbearable."

You chuckled. "High praise coming from you, Williams."

The stadium was bathed in the soft hues of the setting sun, casting a warm and golden glow over the field. The atmosphere was tranquil, a stark contrast to the intensity of your usual rivalry. You turned your attention to Ellie, your gaze lingering on her profile. There was a vulnerability in Ellie’s expression, a crack in the armor that had always shielded her from the world.

"Who would've thought that we'd end up here?" You mused, your voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

Ellie let out a wry chuckle, her eyes never leaving the horizon. "Yeah, it's a strange twist of fate."

The air was thick with unspoken emotions, a charged silence that seemed to envelop you both. Your heart raced as you found yourself inching closer to Ellie, your body moving almost of its own accord. Your shoulders brushed against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"You know, I never really knew you before all of this," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ellie turned to face you, her gaze intense and searching. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes locked. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of suspended time. The months of rivalry, the animosity, it all seemed to melt away, leaving behind an undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore.

Without another word, you closed the distance between the both of you, your heart pounding in your chest. You pressed your lips to Ellie’s in a hesitant, gentle kiss.

As you pulled away, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty played across Ellie’s features. Your heart raced as you searched Ellie’s eyes for any sign of regret, but what you found was a flicker of something else—something that mirrored your own feelings.

"I... I don't know what this means," You admitted, your voice tinged with a touch of insecurity.

Ellie’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "I don't either. But I guess we'll figure it out together."

Your lips twitched into a smile of their own, a sense of hope blossoming within you. "Yeah, I guess we will."

You sat there in the fading light, side by side on the bleachers, the weight of your shared history and newfound connection hanging in the air. The stadium that had witnessed countless fierce battles between you both now bore witness to a different kind of victory—one that transcended rivalry and embraced the possibility of something more.

[bsydelver]

-MHA (1-A) as nowadays teenagers- social media mostly (stereotypes).

PT.1- the boys.

—>part 2 (the girls)

inspired by those “mha as American high schoolers tiktoks.”

The first section of this post has the ones I wanted to emphasize on the most then the second section will be just mentions of the boys that I found would be basic in my opinion or I couldn’t think about the concept of them being like the teenagers we have at this time,

Izuku:

This guy is active on social media 24/7.

He LOVES sending streaks on snap of everything happening, he finished studying? He is sending a streak announcing it; he was reading? He is sending a streak announcing it; he was on a call? He is sending a streak announcing it; you get the point.

His bitmoji looks like a carbon copy of him, he does not mess around when it comes to it.

The type of person to have a million different accounts on one platform: One is his main, One is his spam, One is for close friends, one for edits, etc. If you ask him for his handle or username he’ll say “which account?” or give you a specific one depending on who you are.

If he gets left on opened he deletes the message even for him only to avoid feeling embarrassed.

His music taste just depends on tiktok for the most part as he listens to audios there all the time for his edits.

I like to think that All might (or the pro-heroes in general) would be a professional player (sports) of some sort in this universe so Izuku would edit him like how people edit football/American soccer and basketball players.

He’s known in the editing community on tiktok and he loves the mutuals concept.

Not a lot of people he knows are aware of his editing hobby only Kirishima since they share it (Kiri does edits of crimson riot)— they would have that RMA fan and Barca fan friendship dynamic. (trust)

Trains the sport All Might is a professional in (and he is determined to be as good as All Might).

Part of the sassy men apocalypse.

Plays Roblox once in a blue moon and only for his friends.

Despite his extremely high screen time: he is actually smart academically.

If you’re playing a match with him (in teams, and sports that include, balls, passing, dribbling, etc.) and you have the ball, he will beg you to pass for him to shoot, but he still misses.

He likes the downtown boy style because he thinks it’s comfortable but Inko hates it.

He isn’t popular but he is still known,

Katsuki:

He barely has any social media platforms but for the ones he does have: it’s always just some private account that he only accepts people he knows on.

He sends his daily streaks and it’s always just the classic “S” drawn poorly on a black screen.

He only uses his story to repost other stories he was mentioned in.

His profile picture on every platform is a picture one of his friends took of him hiding his face using his hand, if it isn’t that photo: he just makes it a black screen.

He would send a tiktok or two every few months to a friend and then disappear again.

His main social media app is snapchat: that is what he uses for texting, calls and whatever other business he wants to do.

His snapscore is over 100k.

“wyll” warrior: if yk, yk.

Kirishima’s gym bro but never talks about it, it’s kiri who can’t help but bring it up.

Despite his somewhat “cold” personality, this mf is the definition of scared of girls: not even in the male manipulator way, he is just scared of them or avoids them.

He just wears plain shirts and hoodies, he doesn’t dedicate his clothes to a specific category: just wears what he wants.

Just expect the unexpected from him.

He is the captain of at least one sports team in his school.

He never studies (according to him) yet gets the highest marks somehow and everyone admires him for it.

Shoto:

He does not use social media at all, nearest thing he has to that is his phone number that’s about it.

Just uses his phone to call people or message them on imessage.

He does not get any joke or reference you tell him that comes from tiktok (referring to brainrot) or any other social media app for that matter unless you explain it to him.

He does backhanded jokes though that are actually hilarious.

Wears whatever he finds in his wardrobe, he does not have a specific clothing style.

His texts are as dry as a dessert.

He’s just there and everyone is here for it.

He’s the “non-chalant” guy every girl on tiktok posts about, and since he is canonically attractive: he is the topic of a lot of girl gossip sessions.

He is like an old man when it comes to phones.

He is very dedicated when it comes to sports, he will not hesitate to continue even when he is injured.

He likes listening to lo-fi and calming music in general: it helps him focus.

Him are Iida are study buddies, nobody can tell me otherwise.

He’s the guy you go to for notes if you missed any during class.

Koda:

He uses his social media accounts for photography.

He also tries to raise awareness about current problems in the world using his platforms.

He surprisingly has a lot of followers due to his insane skills.

He is the quiet guy who everyone knows in terms of appearance but nobody would actually remember him on a name basis except if they are friends with him.

Does not participate in school matches or anything sports related in general.

His mom packs him his lunch and honestly nobody says anything because he isn’t too loud about it either.

He is a really wholesome guy and anyone who knows him loves that for him.

He was raised right and has manners.

He is a vegan but not one of those crazy ones, he just does it for himself and he might not agree with the choice of eating meat but he won’t be an ass to you for it.

He’s the hotspot guy of the class, he always has mobile data so he could post wherever and whenever he’d like, people always borrow it from him and he has no problem whatsoever.

He does not have any unresolved problems with anyone whatsoever.

Everyone from school who has social media follows his accounts and he is just mutuals with people he probably never talked to before in person.

He loves posting bird chirping audios and videos and he made a couple audios that actually got used by a ton of people.

He is average academically and none of the teachers have any concerns when it comes to him.

He wears anything as long as it isn’t made out of fur, leather or anything that comes from an animal.

Ejiro:

His parents despise his phone, he is always on it no matter what in their eyes.

He will spam you with tiktoks no matter who you are, he doesn’t even expect a reply (but if you do he appreciates it) he just likes sharing videos.

EVERYONE knows about his edit account compared to Izuku, he’s the editor of the class.

He does not mess around when it comes to protein and nutrition.

He sends gym and training snap streaks.

If he has a crush, he will try to hint it using videos on social media and he will send you cute tiktoks saying he appreciates you and stuff.

He makes videos of him reaching his lifting PRs in the gym and always has phonk music in the background.

He has a highlight on instagram for only motivational quotes he posts weekly on his story.

All of his bios have a Crimson Riot quote in them.

He’s a great athlete and has respect for you even if you’re on the opposing team.

He is the captain of one sports team as well and all of his teammates love him.

He uses “🤨” and “AYOOOO” while texting.

He’s the type of guy to say “YAYAYAYAY” on text unironically.

if he isn’t on his phone, he is playing Fortnite or minecraft with his friends (mostly Denki) and he loves it.

He is the type to scream in games and use curse words even in a friendly way.

He spams the repost button on tiktok and the add to story button, it is an addiction at this point.

He has a girl best friend (Mina) and he is open about it in every way possible.

He is pretty chill with everyone: boy or girl, no girl gets the feeling that he has a crush on her unless he visibly shows it and he’s the annoying type of guy friend who’s sarcastically rude to you but knows his limits.

If you’re a girl and have a crush on his friend, you wouldn’t be able to help but tell him and you can actually trust him with it.

He hates being on bad terms with anybody and just wants to be cool with everyone.

He is just your average teen boy.

He struggles academically and he knows the reason and has always tried to improve but he feels like he can’t.

Denki:

He is scrolling on tiktok or instagram reels every single second of the day that is if he isn’t playing video games.

Can’t keep a snapstreak for the life of him.

Will respond to every tiktok you send regardless if you sent 1 or 1000 and he enjoys it.

Brainrot is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

He references brainrot in real life every time he gets the chance and he is just known for that, it’s like a staple for him.

He is the “no homo” and “it doesn’t count if we’re wearing socks” type of guy and he pairs it with Kiri’s “AYOOO”s.

Only gets a long with one girl (Jirou) cause he can’t get a long with any other or at least became close with them in contrast to Ejiro.

He loves playing fortnite with Ejiro and Sero and also he is always the host of minecraft worlds and will not forgive you if you kill his wolf/dog.

He begs Izuku and Jirou to play Roblox with him sometimes.

He has a pet and posts stories of them playing together and whatever pet it is loves attacking Denki for no reason.

He is his own person in someway and isn’t the type of guy to depend on someone for a personality but he will depend on the new social media brainrot trend for it.

This man should not be going near a ball or anything sport-related in general, because he’s ass.

Interacts with every post his friends publish and he’s always saying something in the comments.

He loves “homeless-looking” fits.

He is horrible when it comes to academics and he does not even try to improve because he finds no point.

Sero:

Sero has a surprisingly healthy screen time (only during school days though).

He is always open to playing games with the other guys and if he doesn’t have the game, he will download it even if they will only play it once.

He will watch every tiktok his friends send but will only do short replies because he’s too lazy.

He ADORES movie nights and Spiderman.

All of his profile pictures are group pics of him and his friends.

He is always posting food pictures anywhere in general, he loves the look of it.

He always looks forward to Denki’s replies.

Whenever his friends say something off guard to him: his smile fades or he does the “🤨” face and it just became a running joke in the friend group.

He gets matching socks with his friends because he saw a tiktok trend about it.

He tries to lecture his friends but does the same mistake at the end and just laughs about it.

He reposts news on his instagram stories just to mock it or say something critical at least once a week.

He laughs really loud during class and Denki does NOT help in preventing it at all.

He wears whatever one of his friends is wearing just to match with them because he usually doesn’t feel like choosing a complete outfit.

Has an overwhelming fear of parent-teacher conferences.

He swears that he tries his hardest in studying but he always gets marks as bad as Denki’s and he just accepted it.

Tenya:

In contrast to what a lot of people believe, I think Tenya would actually have at least one social media platform.

He wouldn’t use social media like his other classmates use it, but rather to help him share announcements quicker to the others since most of them are more active there.

He’d only have outdated minigames on his phone because he used to play with his older brother but other than that, he has nothing.

He offered free tutoring but Ochako convinced him that it would be a good idea to charge at least 1 bucks or something just so he can get a profit out of it.

He loves being organized and unironically has pinterest just to organize his thoughts there and whenever he mentions it, his classmates are shocked.

He hates when anyone sends a tiktok link or something similar to the main class groups because he thinks it’s out of place and bad.

Everyone comes to him for college recommendations.

People think he’d be a teachers’ pet but the teachers aren’t actually that fond of him or just treat him like any other and he actually appreciates that.

He scolds his friends for being too active on social media and that it can affect them in the future not only due to lack of concentration but also due to potential bad digital footprint.

He takes the internet really seriously and avoids anything harmful to keep his digital footprint as clean as possible.

Some of his friends ask him to set up a screen-time system on their devices because they trust him the most with it.

Straight A student and is in all of the advanced classes.

Apologies to:

Aayoma

Tokoyami (💔)

Shoji

Sato

Ojiro

Mineta (not really)

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None really, chit-chat between some gal pals, some implied bi/pan reader.

A/N: Never fear, best gal Layla is here! Also the Hippo-Mama!

And I totes recommend reading the Hobby Headcanons that @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction wrote on the boys! I plan on implementing them all! (Also read all their other things, their Nathan Bateman shit is *insert Paccha meme here*) I need to read up on American football because frankly I have no clue how sports worked since I played soccer and baseball as a kid, before I write about Marc's lest I sound like some plebeian who's guessing everything lmao

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity

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Chapter 5:

Old Friends

You were minding your own business, cleaning up the mess of tossed books that a couple was oh so kind enough to allow their child to scatter.

You hoped you'd never see them again. While they sat at the nook, sipping coffee and eating the muffins, their child was running around, causing havoc and destroying your beautiful, well-organized shop. Oh, your poor shop…

The couple weren't happy when you charged them for the books their son had ripped up and destroyed beyond salvage, the books he colored in.

Yeah, you really hoped they would never come back.

You looked at your burned hand with a frown. It had been a few days since you hurt yourself, and while painful, the burn wasn't actually that bad. Some aloe, some ice… And it started to clear up after the first day, the blisters receding quickly. You flexed your fingers and tilted your head, curiously wondering if your soulmate could feel the burns, as well. When the thought crossed your mind, you pulled up your sleeve and looked at the mark on your wrist, checking to see which moon would be full today.

The bottom right one. It had been that one a lot, lately.

The bell to the front door dinged, and you straightened up, mentally preparing yourself for the forced smile you were going to have to put on, now.

You cleared your throat and spun around, broom in hand, looking at the woman who just walked in.

She was beautiful. Her tanned skin complimenting her dark eyes and mass of wavy curls. She smiled at you, a bit more genuine.

"Oh! Hello, welcome to Here Today Books." You say politely. "Can I help you?"

"You look like you need it more, sister." She sighed, smiling sympathetically, nodding to the pile of ruined books you now had to put into recycling. Her accent was… it wasn't American, like yours. It sounded similar, but her words had some kind of twinge to them.

"Ah, yeah… a couple and their lovely child were my most recent patrons." You joke dryly.

"Ah, a little tornado, huh?" She snorted, shaking her head.

"Yep. For sure." You sigh, giving her a new, more genuine smile. "Now, were you looking for anything in particular today?"

"Oh, actually, a friend told me about this place, and I was curious." She mused.

That… took you by surprise. People actually talk about your store? Like, as in tell other people about it? This was news, for sure.

"O-oh?" You blink.

"Yeah, he said you made good muffins and tea. I'm more of a coffee fan in the morning, myself, though. Tea is more of a night thing." She chuckled.

You tilt your head at her, gears in your brain whirling.

"Are you friends with Steven Grant, by any chance?" You ask.

She laughs. "Yes! I'm Layla. Layla el Faouly." She holds out her hand for you to shake, and you, without thinking, extend your healing hand.

She shakes it gingerly, her eyes focused on the rosy skin like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"That… looks like it hurt." She said.

"Oh, this? I was just dumb and grabbed a hot pan without thinking." You said, examining your hand casually.

"Oh… Yeah, that's not good for you, y'know?" Layla joked softly.

"Yeah, not the worst pains I've ever had, trust me." You reply. "Now, uh… are you looking for a book? Or after some of the coffee? Or my muffins?"

"Oh! I think I'll just explore a bit, if that's all right with you." Layla said with a nod.

"Oh, I don't mind! If you need anything, just holler!" You wave at her as she disappears into the shelves.

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"You saw it?" Layla muttered softly to herself; or more accurately, to the giant hippo-woman clad in gold and jewels standing next to her, only visible to her eyes.

"Yes, yes I did. Didn't Marc mention that he had phantom pains in that same hand?" Taweret chuckled.

"Yeah. I mean… It could be coincidence, but…"

"You should talk to her. The poor dear looks dreadfully lonely." Taweret sighed, looking even more gargantuan as she peers at the contents of the shelves pressing down around her, her cute little ears flickering back and forth.

She picked up a book on psychology, finding it suddenly terribly interesting, her eyes widening as she scans the pages faster than a human ever could.

"I will. If we're right about our assumption, then, maybe we can… I don't know…"

"Play matchmaker?" Taweret giggles.

Layla softly smiles, not paying attention to the open book in her hands as she chuckles.

"Yeah. We can play matchmaker."

"Oh, let's just see how this plays out first, m'love?" The goddess giggled.

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Layla wanders to the front of the store, two hardback romance novels in her hands and you smile as you restock some old sci-fi novels into your discount rack.

They were the kind of romance novels with the covers reminiscent of oil paintings, the pretty ones. Not the stupid photoshopped ones that are being printed nowadays.

"Find something you like?" You chuckle.

She waves the books with a wide grin, "I've actually been looking for these copies for ages. At one of the places I was working, some jerk stole them from my locker."

"Oh gods, that is horrible!" You gasp. Why would anyone steal books?! At most, those particular novels, even new, only went for a few pounds!

"I know, right! They were autographed and everything!" Layla groaned.

You felt even more offended on her behalf. If those books were autographed and authentic, they would go for actually a decent sum for a collector online...

"That's even worse than just stealing a regular copy!" You clucked.

Layla wiggled the books in her hands. "But, hey! You have hardback copies, and in very good condition. Mine were old, beat up paperbacks!"

"Well, I'm more than happy that you found them!" You grinned widely.

Layla tilted her head to the left slightly, like she had heard something from behind her, and then she looked right at you, eyeing you up and down briefly, as if she were thinking.

You quirked an eyebrow at her in concern.

"Is everything all right?" You ask.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, yes I'm okay! I just have this... thing. The ringing in my ears?" She coughs, abashed.

"Oh! You have tinnitus? I have a booklet or two on medical things that might have something in it for you if you'd like." You chirp helpfully.

Layla put her hand up, chuckling as she declined politely. "Thank you, but no, I'll be okay. It's not constant or anything like that, it's just that I got off a plane the other day and my ears popped and haven't righted themselves yet.."

"Ooooh..." You nod in understanding. "Where'd you fly in from, if you don't mind my asking?"

She smiled. "Cairo."

"That's the accent!" You gasp in realization, pointing at her.

Layla laughed when you blushed and apologized for the outburst.

"It's fine, and yes! How'd you guess?"

"I used to have an exchange student, he would come in here and buy books for his college courses all the time! He was born and raised just outside Cairo." You chuckle.

"Ohh! Interesting." Layla hummed, looking at the books in her hands.

"Hm... you mentioned you had a menu of sorts?"

"Sure!" You lead her over to one of the nooks, and hand her the laminated mini menu you had available.

Her eyebrows raised, impressed at the various items you had available.

"Oh! This is actually nice..."

"Yep! Most of it is made to order by me, so some of it'll take a bit to bake." You grin proudly.

"Oh... well in that case, is it okay if I ask you to keep me some company? If you're not busy? I don't actually have too many friends other than Steven and his... er, brothers and my... uhhh... surrogate mom, so being able to have another woman to chit-chat with would be very welcome..."

To say you were surprised at the offer was an understatement.

"Oh! Uh, sure! I don't... I don't mind!"

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You and Layla clicked very well. You had similar tastes in things like reality TV, romance novels, even skincare routines.

But when she started talking about herself, is when it got interesting. It turns out she had been married to Marc at some point.

She was his ex-wife. The one he told you about.

"I imagine it's kind of awkward for you two, huh?" You remarked.

"Oh, me n Marc? Not at all! We're still good friends, it's just..." Layla set her coffee down, frowning as she tried to think of how to describe it.

"...After a while, whatever we had... like... the spark, I guess? It just... faded. Marc went through a bit of soul searching and after he did that, well..."

They weren't soulmates.

"Ah... I understand." You sighed.

"What about you?" She asked, a small sly smirk playing her lips.

"Oh! Uh... yeah. No. Nothing for me, I'm afraid." You chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Oh? Nobody special or anything like that? Never kissed someone?"

"Well, I mean, when I was in highschool I kissed a girl on a dare." You sip your own coffee.

"A girl?" Her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yeah, to be honest I'm not sure what kind of preference I have, because I've never really been attracted to anyone before, but it was... weird. Didn't feel like everyone talked it up to be."

"Ah... so... are you waiting for your soulmate, then?" Layla asked a bit tightly.

"Yeah... I know it's stupid, but..." You say, looking down at the mug in your hands.

"Not really. Who doesn't want to meet the one person that is your other half?" She said, smiling softly in sympathy.

Her finger traced the rim of her cup idly, trying to think of the best way to go about phrasing the next question without being obvious about her suspicions.

"Do you... have any ideas of who it might be?" She finally asked.

You shake your head and shrug. "D'nno. I don't know if it's a man or a woman or... well anybody, really. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like once you meet your soulmate because each bond is different so..."

Layla wanted to scream. She wanted to facepalm, she wanted to smack her head on the table. She wanted to splash her coffee into her face.

Taweret was giggling like mad.

"Not as easy as you assumed it was going to be, eh Little One?" The goddess smiled behind her hand at Layla.

Her eyebrow twitched, knowing full well she couldn't retort without looking insane or revealing her position as Taweret's avatar.

You had to be Marc's (and possibly Steven's and Jake's) soulmate. It was all just too coincidental for her liking.

"Oh! That's... well I hope they're close by!" Layla said, forcing a very strained smile.

How could you and Marc be this thick?!

That fact alone had to mean something.

"That's everyone's hope, isn't it?" You chuckled softly, a small fond smile on your face, a glimmer of sadness in your eyes.

Layla felt sympathy for you in the moment, realizing how terribly lonely you must be feeling. And how much pain.

Especially with Marc and the others doing Khonshu's will.

Taweret seemed to pick the thought out of thin air, so in tune with Layla she could tell by the flash in her eyes what she was thinking about.

"Ohhh! That bloody old bone-head!" She huffed, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms, her bottom lip poking out from beneath her muzzle.

"He needs to give those poor boys a break! Especially because whatever happens to them, happens to her!" She gestured to you with her big, yet gentle hands.

Layla cleared her throat.

"Well, uh.... since I've told you about me... why don't you tell me about you? Where were you born, stuff like that?" Layla asked you, still smiling.

"Oh! Me? I'm afraid it's not very interesting." You chuckled dryly.

Layla looked outside as the rain came down in sheets. Not very appealing to walk back to the boys' flat in this weather... especially not for her hair.

"It looks like I've got time, love. Go ahead! We can have some more drinks while we chat."

You smiled a bit wider.

It was nice to have a girl-friend to talk with, again.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

When Steven had woken up, Layla was gone, and Marc and Jake left Steven quite alone in the body, letting him front entirely for the day. She'd left a note on Gus and Co's tank saying she went out for a bit for some fresh air.

Which, quite frankly, Marc said was bullshit because of the weather. Layla wouldn't go out in a monsoon and risk her hair becoming an unmanageable spongy mop that would take forever to dry, unless she was going somewhere very specific.

It was one of the things she complained about the most when they were together, something he thought was amusing. He remembered one time they got caught in a rain after their wedding, and at the hotel she was fussing and muttering under her breath as her wet curls hung over her face, desperately trying to get the dripping mass of hair to dry, glaring at herself in the mirror.

Steven sighed, and made his morning cup of tea and went about his routine. He dusted some, and decided to slip on his apron and play with some recipes he'd found online.

The apron was a bit... "dinky" as Marc had called it. Jake apparently ordered it online when he saw the slightly cartoon'd Egyptian motifs on it and left it as a present for Steven, since his favorite thing to do other than read was to cook (and he was a major Egyptophile).

When he was finished, he'd placed the extra portions in a small container in the fridge for Layla when she returned, in case she was hungry.

Then, he sat down, ate, and read a book while he played some music over the cheap sound system Marc installed.

When Layla returned, she was... dry. Remarkably dry. Her hair was still perky and everything!

She apparently bought an umbrella while she was out, placing it in the holder so no excess water dripped on the floor.

"Ah! Hey Steven." She chuckled, walking up and kissing his cheek, knocking his glasses off to the side as she did, placing her bag on the little table nearby.

"How'd you know?" Steven chuckled, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her.

"Well, aside from the fact you're hunched over like a goblin over a book... the flat smells wonderful. You've obviously been cooking. Not Marc." She grinned.

"Ha!" Steven giggled.

Layla hummed as she set her new purchases on the table, folding the little canvas bag neatly.

Steven's eyebrows shot up when he saw the books.

"Where were you..?" He asked, clearing his throat.

"Oh, y'know... exploring. Went out for a tea..." She grinned at him out of the corner of her still ridiculously beautiful eyes.

"Visited that bookstore you 'n Marc told me about."

Steven fidgeted in his seat.

"O-oh..."

"Mhmm." She tapped her nails on the books' hard covers; she then turned around and crossed her arms, still grinning as she leaned her hips on the table.

"....Why are you looking at me like that? And where did you get that umbrella..?"

"Oh, well..." She shrugged, sighing a bit dramatically, looking elsewhere in the flat for dramatic effect.

She looked back at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Your little girlfriend who owns the bookstore. She really is a sweetheart, she let me borrow it while I'm in town."

"Bloody hell! Layla! It's not like that at all--" Steven sputtered, almost dropping the book in his hand.

She started cackling madly, walking into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator.

"Ooh! What'dja make?"

Steven made a noise, burying his face in his hands as he tried to hide the faint blush that crept up his face and set up shop in the tips of his ears, knocking his glasses up to his forehead.

"Bloody hell!" He groaned into his palms.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 6: Link

[hard--headed--woman]

I briefly talked about it with someone here and it made me think so much that I had to make a post about it - why don't misandrist men get as much hate as misandrist women ?

They are men who think men are horrible and say it. Yet they do not receive the same amount of hate as a feminist saying "I hate men".

There's an example that I find interesting and that I thought I'd share : some decades ago, a very famous leftist french singer, Renaud, made a song that quickly became very popular and loved. It's called "Miss Maggie" and it basically says that men are trash and that women are superior. The thing is, absolutely everyone praises him for it and loves that song. I guess there are some conservatives and incels who hate it, but the vast majority of the country, men and women, loves it ; people say Renaud is amazing and a genius for writing it and that the song is wonderful. Here is a link if you want to listen to it :

(He also criticizes Margaret Tatcher in that song but I won't talk about it in this post because it's not the point).

Here are some lyrics (with the english translation) just so you understand what I'm talking about :

(Bourgeois women or whores

Who are often the very same

Normal women, stars or uglies

Females of all kinds, I love you

Even to the worst moron

I dedicate these few verses

Born of my disgust for men

And their warrior morality

Because no woman on the planet

Will ever be more stupid than her brother

Nor prouder nor more dishonest)

(Woman I love you because

When sport becomes war

There are no chicks, or very few

In the hordes of fans

Crazy fanatics

Drunk on hate and beer

Defying the morons in blue

Insulting the bastards in green)

(The atomic bomb

Didn't come from a female brain

And no woman has on her hands

The blood of Native Americans.

Palestinians and Armenians

Testify from their graves

That genocides are a male thing

Like SS, bullfighters

In this fucking humanity

Murderers are all brothers

Not a woman to compete)

(Woman I love you, above all, at last

For your weakness and for your eyes

When a man's only strength

Is his gun or his cock

And when the last hour comes

Hell will be full of morons

Playing soccer or war

Playing who pisses the farthest)

Everyone loves that song and Renaud didn't receive any hate for writing it. Now imagine if a woman had written it? Just imagine the amount of hate a female singer would receive if she wrote a song like this. That could ruin her carreer and I am not exaggerating.

Renaud is also known for saying other misandrist things. I remember watching an interview with him, in which he's said that "Women are always there to heal wounds, repair damage, get things done... Unfortunately, there are still too few of them in important positions where they can participate in decision-making", "The oldest form of discrimination is discrimination against women. They are the first group we decided to hate and oppress", "Politicians and religions don't want to let women be more than virgins or whores. They don't want to let them be human beings, women, fulfilled people, with a personality, who work...", "It's not long since women have had the right to vote in France. And what's more, when I see women voting for a man, it gives me the same feeling as if I saw a crocodile going to a leather shop of its own free will...".

And in the comments, absolutely everyone was praising him, calling him a king, an angel and what not. No one to call him names or to tell him horrible things. No one to act as if he's said the craziest thing ever, no one to act as if he committed a crime. Sure some people disagree and insult women, but there is not a lot of hatred against him. Again, a woman would have received a lot of hate if she had said things like that. Just read what men have to say about Delphine Seyrig criticizing the patriarchy and the "indifference of men".

The point of that post isn’t to say that Renaud is The Feminist Ally, that he's perfect and one of the good guys or whatever. I just want to point out that a man criticizing men, saying he hates them, calling out their behaviour (and even saying women are superior!) will never receive the same amount of hate as a woman barely saying "I hate men" or ever way "nicer" things. Sounds like everyone knows why we hate men and even agrees with us deep inside, and just hate when women speak up about it. Sounds like they don't have a problem with misandry but with women 🤷🏽‍♀️

[nomaptomyowntreasure]

Based on some of the comments on The Kintsugi Kid, and, I think, the surprise at the amount of denial and self-denial in it, here's a very brief and incomplete history of homosexuality in association football (soccer, we can call it soccer). I know the story is fiction but anyway, this is my rant into the void, basically.

Justin Fashanu was the first professional footballer to come out publicly and be openly gay in 1990. After coming out, he transferred clubs yearly, sometimes multiple times a year, until his suicide in 1998 amidst media allegations surrounding his sexuality. His brother continued to give interviews stating that Justin wasn't gay, but merely an attention seeker.

Unsurprisingly, the tragedy and hostility that struck his life after publicly coming out persuaded other gay footballers that coming out would not be a good idea. 

Some minor league players come in the early 2000s, mostly after their retirement, some during their active career - for example Messi (not the Messi) who's the first Brazilian football player to come out in 2010. After coming out, he transferred clubs yearly, sometimes multiple times a year. What a coincidence!

Also in the early 2000s, Luis Felipe Scolari (ex-Chelsea manager) goes on record to say he would have thrown out of the team a player whom he found to be gay. 

In 2005, former manager Alan Smith speaks of "the last taboo in football": "I've had players over the years who were single and read books and so others [other players] said they must be gay... I think being openly gay would be something very difficult to live with in football... You can get drunk and beat up your wife and that's quite acceptable, but if someone were to say 'I'm gay', it's considered awful. It's ridiculous."

Also in 2005, the Football Association held a summit aimed at tackling homophobia in football. In that same year, when the BBC asked all of the twenty Premiership managers their opinions on the issue as part of an investigation, all twenty refused.

Many heterosexual players are victims of homophobic abuse - both on and off the pitch, sometimes due to their "unladdish hobbies". Rio Ferdinand gets away with calling someone faggot live on air.

In 2010, Max Clifford says he would and has advised gay players to stay closeted: "It's a very sad state of affairs. But it's a fact that homophobia in football is as strong now as it was 10 years ago. If you'd asked me in 2000 whether I thought we'd have a famous, openly gay footballer by 2010 I would have said yes.

Robbie Rogers, an American football player, played for second-tier English football club Leeds united when he came out in 2013 - and announced his retirement almost in the same breath. He later returned from retirement to play for LA Galaxy, and become the first gay football player in the MLS. In 2013. He did play internationally for the United States, though was not called back for international games after his coming out. What a coincidence!

The first international player to come out as gay is Thomas Hitzlsperger who was a German national team player. He came out in 2014, one year after his retirement. During his active career, he had a long-term girlfriend.

So we're in 2014, and there's no openly gay football player in any major teams or with an international career. Most players who have come out since 2014 either came out after their retirement, or play for very very very minor leagues.

In June 2021, at the delayed UEFA Euro 2020 tournament, Germany national football team captain Manuel Neuer was investigated by UEFA for wearing a rainbow captain's armband and risked potential fines - they investigated it being a political statement.

The next major league player and first international player to come out whilst actively playing is Jakub Jankto, he came out in 2023 (yes, last year) and currently plays for a Series A team in Italy. He used to play for the Czech Republic but has not been called back for international games after coming out. What a coincidence!

In June 2022, it was revealed that homophobia made up the majority of online abuse aimed at footballers.

Here are some more supporting articles:

Homosexuality in association football

Homosexuality in English football

[cainnleacghlovers]

World Cup Shenanigans - CP

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x fem!reader

Summary: The USA have beat England, who would’ve thought? Christian only wants to celebrate in one way. (I know they drew, but for the sake of this fic, they won.)

Warnings: smut

The final who she blew. The USA had beaten England. Read that again. The USA (the idiots who call it soccer) beat England. In what world does this happen?

You watch, as your boyfriend slides across the grass on his knees with his team mates. No, they were more than that. His brothers, his family. And you’d grown to love them too. American accents and all.

You watch, with a massive smile on your face, as Christian does his lap around the pitch. The one and a half year old, perched on your hip. Clapping his baby hands, at his dada.

Your son, Brogan, was a bit of a surprise for you and Christian. Not that your relationship was new, the pair of you dating since you did a transfer year in America, joining his high school. You two managed, and your son was the best thing that had happened either of you. The minute he was placed on your chest, you’d felt complete.

Bouncing Brogan up and down, you and Christians mum (you can practically hear him mocking your accent, and saying ‘babe it’s mom’) head onto the pitch. Christian seems to be doing a quick interview, and you congratulated Weston. He had a banger of a match.

“Dada!” Brogan exclaimed. Recognising the shirt Weston was wearing, one his dad has worn so often. The comment left Weston chucking, and he squeezed the babies cheeks. The whole squad grew very fond of Brogan.

“We’ll find your dada soon Broggy.” Kelley remarked. Dotting over her grandson. Walking across the grass, you seen Mason. Giving him a quick wave. Brogan too, recognised Mase, and gave him a wave. Mason wasting no time to wave back at the boy, he too, very fond of the toddler currently in your arms.

Kelley took the boy off of you, knowing you’d want a moment with Christian.

And there he was. Number 10. Your number 10.

His hair sticking to his forehead, as you’d finally convinced him to grow out the curls. Recognising his babies laugh, Christian turned and made his way over to you. The grin on his face, exactly the same as the boy in Kelley’s arms. Brogan was Christians copy. The same freckles, that you liked to call constellations, and the same brown eyes you’d fallen in love with, all those years ago in Mrs Browns English class.

Christian gave you a kiss. A loving kiss, as if he he was pouring all the love he had for you into it, because believe me, that boy had a lot. The kiss lingered, probably too long for tv. Awkwardly turning away to some other player in the team, maybe even a sad English player.

“I’m so proud of you Chris.” You mumbled again this lips, his arms finding your neck, as he pulled you closer to him. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

“Thank you sweetheart.” He said, with another peck to your lips. “Did you like my goal?” He smiled against your lips, knowing that goal was dedicated to you and your little boy. They all were.

“Which one?” You smirked at him, it was true. Christian scoring twice.

“The one where I showed my love to the Irish.” He smirked down at you. The shamrock tattoo that armoured his chest, dedicated to you. His shamrock, as he’d call you, when he was feeling particularly lovey.

“The one where you took your top off? Oh i loved that one.” Dragging out the d, on loved, he gave you another kiss.

“Now where’s my boy?” Christian said, his eyes scanning for his son. Which he found, in his mums arms. Making a face at Brogan, which caused the baby to erupt on a fit of laughter, he took him out of his mums arms, and threw the toddler up in the air. Tickling his side, as he smiled lovingly at him.

Christian had so much love for his son, and any worry you’d had, of being young parents was gone as soon as Christian held that baby. He was meant to be a dad. And by god, was he a good one.

Watching Christian kiss Brogans cheeks, you made your way over to Kelley, as you both watched the boys with so much love.

“I don’t think I had any say in Brogan. Biggest betrayal ever. I carried him for 9 months, for him to have the nerve to be an absolute replica of his dad.”

Kelley laughed.

“Sure have another one.” The woman said, making you laugh.

“No chance.”

You two chatted away pleasantly, Kelley had became a second mum to you. Christian came over to his mum, and gave her a hug as he continued to play with Brogan. Walker, someone Brogan was very fond of, found us.

“There’s my favourite Puliśić!” Walker exclaimed, dramatically dropping to his knees as Brogan ran over to him, falling into his arms.

Walker came over to you, Brogan in his arms.

“I’d say you’re my favourite Puliśić, but Christian’s taking his sweet time.” Nodding his head to your empty ring finger.

“I might as well be one at this point. I’ve had two inside me at some point.” That comment earned a laugh from Walker, as he played with Brogans cheeks. God, you weren’t ready for the toddler cheeks to go.

Christian snuck up behind you, arms around your waist, as he span you around to face him. His hands drawing random shapes on your back. You knew the ‘Pulisic’ on your back was driving him absolutely insane.

“I know what you’re gonna say. The answers still no.”

Knowing Christian would love another mini him, or you, running around.

“But look, we make such cute babies!” He pouted, looking down at you.

“Well that’s true. But get back to me in a few years.”

“Oh don’t worry. I will. I have to go do a stupid interview now. I just wanna spend time with my two favourite people.” He said, holding you close.

“Well you have to show the world how much of a superstar you are. Captain America.”

Laughing at the nickname, he placed a light kiss on your forehead. No one else could call him that. Ever.

“Well i’ll see you later, because mom is taking Brogan, and I am taking you out.”

“Did you check with me? See if i’m free?” You joked.

“Well are you free? To go on a date. With your sexy, super hot, talented, man of the match boyfriend?” He joked along. You loved the banter you had in your relationship.

“Oh! Somethings freed up. Looks like I can go after all.”

“Amazing. I’ll see you in a bit sweetheart. I love you. So much.”

“And I love you Chris. So much.”

With one last kiss, he jogged off, giving his son a kiss goodbye. We’d both decided that we weren’t gonna post Brogans face. He was after all, only a baby. And he didn’t deserve that.

Brógan came trotting back over to you, Kelley close in hand. You picked up your baby, giving him a kiss, right when you got a mouthful of muck. The wonders of mother hood.

—

“I’m home sweetheart!” You heard Christian shout through the house of where you were staying for the world cup, thankfully your boss, let you have time off, so you could join Christian.

“Bathroom!” You quickly shouted back. As Christian came into the bathroom, he seen you kneeling on the floor, your son covered head to toe in muck.

“He’s your son.” You joked, Christian laughing softly. He kneeled down beside you, his hand cupping his sons cheeks as he lightly squeezed them.

“You’re making work for mama, eh?” Playing with Brogans cheeks, as he made the boy laugh.

“Dada!” He squealed, that word making Christians heart swell. He always wanted to be a dad, and you’d given him that.

“That’s right buddy. Dada. Here let me do it.” Christian knew you did a lot with Brogan, especially when he was away for international duty. He wanted to give you a break. Not that you minded, your son was your entire world.

“Christian, no offence, but go shower.” You joked.

“Your mama is so mean to me Broggy. Saying I smell.”

“Mama!” The baby smiled.

“That’s right Broggy. Dada does smell. See Brogan agrees with me. Daddy doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“You won’t be saying that later.” Christian smirks at you. Giving you a nudge, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“No Christian. I won’t be saying that.”

“Hmm we’ll see.” Leaving one last kiss on Brogans head, Christian got up. Giving him the finger, as he gave it back.

“Let’s get you all clean pumpkin.”

—

Packing a bag for Brogan to stay with his grandparents, Christian offered to drop him off, which you were thankful for. You wanted to get a shower before you two headed out.

“I’ll drop him off with mom.”

“Thank you Chris.” Giving him a kiss, as you went upstairs to get ready. Stripping your clothes to get into the shower. As you soaked your hair, you heard the door open, and clothes fall on the floor, as a pair of familiar hands found your waist. You span around to face him, hands falling loosely around his neck.

“You were so good today Chris.” You smiled at him, as he worked his way down your neck, stopping at your collar bone, and sucking a little at the skin. He hummed against you, as he spoke.

“How good?” He decided to try his luck, see how far his teasing could get him.

“Really really really good.” You said, giving him exactly what he wanted.

“I was?” He hums against your breast. Evoking a light moan out of you.

“Hmm hmm. I was thinking of ways to show you how good you were.” Your turn to tease, your hand traced along his collar bone, and down along the grooves of his abs, right until his v-line. Feeling his hard dick against your leg, you were satisfied.

“What’d you come up with?” He mumbled, breath hitching as your hand made its way to his crotch. Giving him a few light pumps, his tip leaking pre cum.

“A few things.” You said innocently, dropping to your knees and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh baby you’re killing me here.” As your hands traced along his thigh, and your nose bumped his pubic bone. Giving him a few light strokes, before you took his tip in your mouth, giving a few light licks. He moaned, and threw his head back.

“Baby please. No teasing. I need you. Now.” He whined, and you were satisfied with his begging. You took his length in your mouth, and stroking with firm motions, what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He threw his head back in pleasure, as his hips bucked towards your face, making you gag a little. Looking down to see if you were okay, Christian groaned at the sight in front of him. Saliva dripping down your chin, as you took him in your mouth. One hand gripping his thigh, the other palming the part of his dick that wasn’t in your mouth. His hands found your hair, as he made it into a makeshift ponytail, tugging on it slightly whenever you took him deep in your throat.

“Not gonna last long baby. I-i.” Christian groaned one last time, pushing his hips forward as he came in your mouth. You looked up at him, swallowing as he helped you to your feet. He gave you a passionate kiss, that had you groaning in his mouth. He pulled away, grinning at you.

“Wash my hair will you?” You said.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He replied sweetly, flipping you around so he could wash your hair.

—

Stepping out of the shower, Christian ah did you a towel, which you wrapped around your body. His eyes raking up and down your body.

“Now get out so I can get ready.” You shooed him out, plopping down in front of the mirror.

—

Turning the straighter off, and taking a photo of it, so you knew you’d done it. You were debating on which lip colour.

“Chris babe, could you come in here a quick min!” You shouted out the door.

Christian came in, his shirt half buttoned. His tinned chest on display. And boy, did you take full advantage of that. Your eyes widened as you stared, and he smirked. Loving that he still worked you up after all these years.

“You’re drooling baby.” He stated, making you blush. He wasn’t gonna win that easily. Bending down in front of him, you took of the hotel robe you had on, showing him the bra and pantie set you had on. Now it was his turn to drool.

“You’re drooling Chris.” He laughed, slapping your arse lightly.

“What was it you wanted sweetheart?”

“Red lip or pinky lip.” He didn’t didn’t even have to think about that one.

“You look so sexy with ref lips.” He hadn’t realised he’d said that out loud. Whoops.

“Red lip it is.”

—

You two had an enjoyable night, sharing a few drinks and chatting with his teammates, and their partners. At around half past 12, Christian had enough of pretending like he didn’t want to fuck your brains out, so you two excused yourself, and rushed hastily home.

—

Feet sore from your heels, you took them off. Christian seeing this as an opportunity to carry you, so he took your waist, and carried you bridal style into the house. Cursing as he fumbled with the locks, eventually getting it open.

“It’s like you’re trying to get in my pants Christian.” You giggled as he hastily carried you up the stairs, needing to feel you around him. Now.

“That’s exactly what i’m trying to do baby.” He replied, kicking the door open with his foot, and dropping you on the bed lightly as he took his own shoes off. He grabbed your ankles, and dragged you to the end of the bed, where he was. Leaning over you, and pressing a hungry kiss to your lips. He bit your bottom lip, a sign for you to open your mouth. His tongue entangled with yours, and the kiss shared so many things. The love you had for each other, and the desire to be as close to one another as possible.

Grabbing him by the belt buckle, and without breaking the kiss, you pulled him closer. Groaning in your mouth, as his hard dick met your clothed pussy. Moving your hair out of the way, he began to press feverish kisses down your neck, sucking on the bruised he’d already made earlier in the shower. Pushing the strap of your dress down for more skin. Hands in his hair, slightly tugging on it, he moaned against your skin. Knowing you had him where you wanted him, you flipped over so you were on top. Looking down at him, as your thighs were on the other side of his, straddling him.

“Fuck, this is gonna be a fun night.” Christian moaned, as your lips once again, found his. Your lips fit like puzzle pieces. You were meant to be, and nothing was ever gonna change that. Grinding down against his hard dick, he was sure he was gonna burst out of his jeans. Pushing your dress down, to show your black lacy bra. He groaned hungrily at the sight, and made quick word of discarding the bra. He wasted no time in taking your right nipple in his mouth, and you moaned at the contact. Christian knew your body so well, and licked a strip between your breast, as his finger rolled your other nipple. You moved his arms up, to take his shirt off, and your legs instantly shuddered when you seen him.

Beginning at his neck, you kissed down his chest, moans escaping his lips as his hands gripped your waist. His hips bucking up at yours reflexively. He craved your touch, and god, he wanted to be in you.

Pushing your dress down over your hips, and using his finger to hook your panties off. You sat on top of Christian, naked, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. You know that right.” He groaned against you, as he discarded his jeans, and you began to rock against him. The friction too much for him. He flipped you back over, as began kissing up your thighs.

“Christian. This is supposed to be all-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, as he lips attached them to your aching core, as he licked up and down, the exact motion you’d taught him 7 years ago, when you were 17. Your back arched uncontrollably, as your fingers found his hair. The slight stubble he head, adding to the erotic pleasure you were feeling right now. He added a finger, and you cried out in pure pleasure. Moaning his name, as you felt him too, moan against your core, sending vibrations through your whole body. You felt your stomach tightening, as your vision became dazed.

“Christian i’m gonna-”

“I know you are baby. I can feel you clenching against my fingers. You look so pretty like this. My head between your thighs. I love you. So much.”

You couldn’t even breath out an ‘I love you’ as he sucked on your cliff. You moaned loudly, cursing every which way as you came around him. He licked up your cum, as he made his way up your body. Feather like kisses against your abdomen, as his lips connected with yours.

You were overwhelmed with that fact, two people could share this much love and infatuation for each other, as he rid himself of his boxers, lining up with your entrance. He looked you in the eye, a devilish glint twisting in his beautiful eyes.

“Will you ride me baby?” He said against your left tit. You moaned at his words and nodded, as he flipped the two of you over, his hands on your hips, as he raised you slightly, so you could position yourself on top of him. You sank down on him, both of you moaning into each others mouths, as you began to rock your hips back and forth, your clit exploding in pleasure as his dick rubbed against it. His hands on your hips, guided your movements as he threw his head back in pleasure.

He’d died and gone to heaven. The sight of you on top of him, your tits in his face, his, his, name leaving your mouth in breathy moans was enough for him to cum his pants like his 16 year old self might of done, after seeing you in your cheer uniform.

Deciding that he wanted more, he flipped you over, and drove into you. His lips trailing across your boobs, as you moaned in pure pleasure.”

“You feel so fucking good. Doing such a good taking me cock baby.” He moaned into your skin, leaving trails of his love for you, in the form on dark purple bruises.

His hand, that wasn’t playing with your nipples, doing your hand, and he clasped it tightly. Your nails digging into his palms, as his hand snaked down your body to your rub your clit. The pleasure erupting through your body.

His hand rubbed your thumb lovingly, as he titled your chin up to look you in the eye.

“I love you Y/N. so damn much.” He said into your mouth.

“I love you too Chris.” You managed to get out, that familiar feeling in your stomach coming back.

Chris knew your body too well. “Go on beautiful, come for me again.”

That was all you needed, as you came around dick, he threw in a few more sloppy thrusts before he too, came inside you. Lying down to look you in the eye, he gave you a loving kiss. He waited for both your breaths to come back, before he pulled out of you. Lying down beside you, tucking you into his chest. The place you were meant to be. He stroked your hair, as he placed a kiss on your forehead. Flipping you over, and kissing all over you face. Ah, here you were. Squirming under him, yet again.

He grabbed your cheeks with hands, and looked at you, with those beautiful brown eyes of his. You’d always thought they looked like a warm hearth, burning brightly.

“I. Love. You.” He said between kisses, and you giggled.

He gave you one last kiss before getting up to get you a towel, wiping your legs down before he flopped onto bed, pulling you tightly into him.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, as tiredness both over came you.

—

You woke up that morning, reaching out for Chris, only to be met with empty sheets. Adjusting your eyes to the sun peaking in through the blinds, you pulled your shorts on, and put your bra back on. Making your way to the kitchen.

There, in all his glory, stood Christian Puliśić. His bare back facing you, as he fried something on the oven. You wrapped your arms around his back, peppering kisses down it. Paying attention to the freckles that adorned it.

“Morning baby.” You mumbled against his back.

“Morning beautiful.” He turned around, giving you a proper kiss.

“You hungry?” You just nodded, and he laughed, plating up eggs, and the toast he’s already made you. Just now you liked it. God you were so in love with this man.

—

Finishing your breakfast, Christian added.

“Funny enough, i’m still hungry.” You thought nothing of this comment, considering you had eaten half of his breakfast.

“Oh. What do you want? Cereal-” His hands found the leg of your chair, as he dragged it closer to him. Pulling you onto his lap.

“Baby.” He said, his hands snaking up your legs, and know you knew what he meant. Moving your legs, so both were opposite his. He stood up, your legs wrapped around his torso.

“What times Broggy coming home?” You asked, not wanting to traumatise Kelley and Brogan, when Christian was knuckles deep inside you.

“12. Plenty of time.”

A long one!! This was loosely inspired by @thoseboysinblue amazing fic about the world cup, which was just 😙🤌

[no1tolerateitfan]

i sit and watch you reading with your head low...

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welcome to my girlblog!

colette , fifteen (taylor's version) , january capricorn , she/her , american-french-spanish , bilingual , tennis , soccer , estj , pinterest girlie , uptown girl , middle child , cabin 10 , ravenclaw , thought daughter , matt girl , hector forts wife actually

im a girl who loves...

pasta , shoes , fancy dresses , swans , jane austen , fashion , affirmations , grwms , hector fort , fruit salads , history , rome , mason thames , christmas , picnics , brandy melville , spain , navy blue , pink , snow , music , reading , winter , ivy leagues , fc barcelona , evermore , romcoms , coffee , emma chamberlain , models , concerts , any march , period films , the idea of motherhood , adam brody , traveling , brunettes , vogue magazine , nyt games , staying in , autumn , birthday parties , rhode , my family , the sturniolo triplets , france , doing my hair , learning new words , making new friends , nara smith , daydreaming , piercings , my boyfriend , being on dnd , shopping , matcha , setting goals , vanilla everything , summer roberts , real estate , concerts , stuffed animals , girlbloggers , healthy lifestyle , makeup , flowers , animals , halloween , starbucks , early mornings , etc<3

fangirl favorites

spotify deep dive;

gracie abrams , taylor swift , olivia rodrigo , sabrina carpenter , chappell roan , madison beer , lana del rey , clairo , billie eilish , lizzy mcalpine , noah kahan , maisie peters , laufey , role model , phoebe bridgers , harry styles , reneé rapp , mitski , tate mcrae , cas , paramore , boygenius , beabadoobee , niall horan , conan gray , billy joel , the neighbourhood , fleetwood mac , ethel cain , marley brown , arctic monkeys , abba , the cranberries , alessi rose , mazzy star , zach bryan , chris stapleton , ariana grande , avril lavigne , mckenna grace<3

film files;

little women , la la land , the princess diaries , lady bird , 10 things i hate about you , 13 going on 30 , pretty woman , 27 dresses , the devil wears prada , scream , when harry met sally , call me by your name , 500 days of summer , how to lose a guy in 10 days , notting hill , runaway bride , clueless , priscilla , a rainy day in new york , midnight in paris , corpse bride , the perks of being a wallflower , black swan , dead poets society , harry potter , narnia , enola holmes , beautiful boy , pride and prejudice , the notebook , the proposal , mamma mia , dirty dancing , grease , the parent trap , white chicks , ella enchanted , sixteen candles , she's the man , miss congeniality , my girl , the virgin suicides , the edge of seventeen , the amazing spiderman , mean girls , legally blonde , thirteen , breakfast at tiffany's , girl, interrupted , twilight , uptown girls , star wars , heathers , old disney<3

tv show archive;

grey's anatomy , gossip girl , gilmore girls , the oc , one tree hill , one day , friends , derry girls , baby , pretty little liars , anne with an e , how i met your mother , the office , criminal minds , supernatural , tsitp , bones , the flash , outer banks , suits , stranger things , you , the crown , emily in paris , satc , agggtm , jane the virgin , the vampire diaries , scream queens , supergirl , killing eve , glee , teen wolf , b99 , boy meets world , dawsons creek<3

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please please please reach out to me if we have the same interests , need to chat , or wanna be moots, i love meeting new ppl and being able to interact with you guys. my sideblog is @vani11alattes , if you wanna check it out! xoxo💗

!! dni if you are nsfw , 18+ , a mature themed blogs , racist , homophobic , misogynistic , and rude. this is a safe space for myself and others, do NOT ruin it by being oppressive !!

^if you are over the age of 18 and a girlblogger you are exempt from this

i am catholic , pro-palestine , and do not support russia. i don't typically talk about these topics, but if you don't agree with my views and beliefs , simply do not interact with me. thank you!

[inexplicablymine]

FIVE FICS UNDER 500

Thank you @happiness-of-the-pursuit for the AMAZING and wonderful idea to do a 5 rec list of work recommendations that are currently under 500 kudos. Lovely fantastic I am so excited. Two of these are finished and three are WIP’s that I think deserve way WAY more love than they are currently getting when they update.

1. One Too Many Mornings by @orchidscript 15K | M | Finished Work

This is my white whale. It emotionally held me tight and I think about it constantly almost a year later. It is a Surfer AU and the way Orchid wrote Henry’s relationship with surfing and water still gives me chills.

2. Décollage by @cultofsappho 18K | E | Finished Work

Alex as a photographer and Henry as a pottery boy and throw them into art school in NYC and you truly have the makings for an au that I could read forever. This work is spectacular both as a character study AND as a wonderful exploration of firstprince in a delightful setting.

Everything after this is a WIP (BUT NOTE THEY ARE ALL GETTING REGULARLY UPDATED I WOULDN’T DO THAT TO YOU)

3. Claremont 2008 by @happiness-of-the-pursuit 17K | M | Work In Progress

What if Ellen gets elected in 2008. That’s it, that’s the premise and it’s done so beautifully I am so angry that it doesn’t have more reads. Everyone should have eyeballs on this fic, you should be frothing at the mouth for updates because I know I am.

4. Hold on get ready for the ride by wilmonflicker 45K | E | Work In Progress

Professional Footballer AU (soccer for the Americans) where they are both on the same team and boy does it get STEAMY. This work is wonderful and I love how the author really leaned into the characters decisions. I find myself cheesing so hard at every update because the story brings me that much joy.

5. On Thin Ice by @pirates-against-heterosexuality 60K | E | Work In Progress

HOCKEY AU. Literally need I say more? Well I can it’s written phenomenally well, and I am a Check, Please! fan and an avid reader of any kind of hockey romance I can get my hands on ~ this is the real deal, thank me later when you fall in love with this story.

You will find me shouting in the comments of all of these. Truly every last one of them I love these works so dearly and I want everyone to read them.

Okay now that you are back from these lovely stories I have an open tag for everyone to share some fics under 500 ~

but I am also going to directly tag @anincompletelist @kill8a @tintagel-or-cockleshells @three-drink-amy and @welcometololaland I would LOVE to see some of y’all’s favorites under 500 :)