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cheftsunoda · 23 days ago

Note

Hi!! I love your poly fics/smau so much! If you’re up to could you maybe write a mick schumacher x reader x jack doohan one? With the reader being toto wolff daughter. No problem if you can’t or don’t want to 🤍

Btw sorry for my english, it’s not my first language lol

unconventional — mick schumacher + jack doohan

smau/blurbs

mick schumacher x!wolff reader x jack doohan

toto wolff x !daughter reader

YN Wolff and Mick Schumacher have always been a quiet constant in the chaos of the paddock. They’d never confirmed their relationship—but they didn’t need to. From secret glances across the garage to late-night flight selfies and matching bracelets seen on opposite wrists, people put the pieces together years ago. They were the paddock’s soft-spoken power couple. The pair who’d grown up under the weight of legendary last names, who never needed the spotlight to know what they meant to each other. And in 2025, as a new wave of rookies crashes onto the F1 grid, YN and Mick have found themselves in a new role—mentors. Friends. A safe space. They’re the calm in the storm for drivers trying to find their footing. But when Jack Doohan gets shockingly dropped from Alpine’s future plans, everything shifts. He’s not just fast and fiercely competitive. He’s charming. Unfiltered. And completely uninterested in following the rules when it comes to the tightly-bound duo everyone assumed was untouchable. Now, under the glossy calm of race weekends and press releases, something’s brewing. Something electric. Something no one saw coming. After all, love doesn’t always follow formation.

fc : leah halton

(a/n) : your english was perfect my love, i got ya🫶🏻 also mick is still a mercedes reserve driver in this story bc it just worked better for my plot line. love youuuuu

hope you love it!

also guys i am going to be posting a lot in the next 24 hours- i am working my way through all these requests! yayayaya

—

yn_wolff

liked by mercedesamgf1, mickschumacher, gina_schumacher & 1,789,001 others.

yn_wolff : dad said I wasn’t allowed back at the track until i pass my bar exam — so I enlisted micky to help me study. (i am the reincarnation of elle woods) #manifestipass

tagged : mickschumacher

—

view 127,003 other comments.

gina_schumacher : our future lawyer!😍 love youuuu

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : love you my sistaaaa💘

mercedesamgf1 : we vote for boss man to hire you as the head of our legal department - admin

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : lowkey he should but if he doesn’t I’ll just go work for another team

↳ scuderiaferrari : heyyyy ynnnnn

↳ mclaren : we think you’d look great in our colors 🧡

↳ williamsracing : hey girl we have carlos sainz

↳ yn_wolff : SOLD

kimi.antonelli : since mick is doing your homework can you do mine???

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : tell the old man to let me back in and we have a deal

↳ kimi.antonelli : he said he doesn’t care as long as we both get it done. SLEEPOVER!!!!

↳ mercedesamgf1 : no fun. only homework - toto

↳ yn_wolff : BAN THIS MAN FROM SOCIAL MEDIA BOOOOOOO

mickschumacher : you’re lucky you are so beautiful

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : and you are so lucky to be able to look at me everyday

liked by mickschumacher

↳ yn_wolff : im jk thank you for all your help my loveeeee

liked by mickschumacher

georgerussell63 : toto acts like we are such a distraction but you are your own distraction

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : what r you on about georgie

↳ georgerussell63 : I’ve watched you study, one minute we are reading about civil law and the next we are on prada’s website

liked by yn_wolff and mickschumacher

↳ yn_wolff : well i gotta look good in court guys

liked by georgerussell63 and mickschumacher

—

The living room is quiet except for the soft scratch of my pen and Mick’s voice, low and steady as he reads from the flashcards balanced on his palm. He’s sitting cross-legged at the end of the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a legal pad on the coffee table in front of him like he’s the one studying for the bar exam. I’m curled against the opposite end, blanket around my shoulders, hair a mess, and caffeine slowly replacing the blood in my veins.

“Alright,” Mick says gently, eyes flicking over the card.

“What are the four elements of a legally binding contract?”

I groan and bury my face in the throw pillow. “Please. Mercy.”

He chuckles. “You said one more.”

“That was three cards ago.”

He waits. Patient, as always. And somehow, annoyingly kind even when I want to scream.

I peek at him through tired eyes. “Offer, acceptance, consideration, and mutual intent to be bound,” I mumble.

Mick beams, flipping the card and tossing it on top of the growing stack. “See? You’re brilliant.”

“Brilliant and dying.”

“Dramatic and brilliant.”

I smile despite myself, letting the blanket fall a bit as I shift closer, nudging his knee with my foot. He rests his hand on my ankle without thinking about it, thumb brushing slow circles over the fabric of my sweatpants. It’s soothing. We’ve done this dance so many nights before—me panicked and pushing myself too hard, Mick grounding me with nothing more than soft words and quiet presence. He never makes me feel like I’m falling apart. Only that I’m building something.

“I should’ve deferred,” I murmur. “Who studies for the bar while working trackside for half the season?”

“You,” Mick says, matter-of-fact. “Because you don’t quit. And because you’re going to pass.”

“You sound awfully sure.”

“I’ve been sure of you since we were seventeen.”

That earns him a look. “You mean when you watched me trip over air and fall on my face?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling. “Yes. That was the moment.”

I press my lips together to keep from smiling too hard. “God, you’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He leans over and kisses my forehead. “And you’re lucky I love you so much.”

I close my eyes, the weight of his hand warm against my leg, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the worn comfort of our flat. Tomorrow we fly out. The start of another race weekend, another whirlwind. But for now, it’s just us. Law books and flashcards and the boy who never let me forget I could do this. And even though I’m exhausted, nerves fraying at the edges, I feel it again—that quiet certainty he always brings with him. I don’t say anything more. Just let myself sink into the couch and trust that, somehow, with Mick beside me, I’m going to be okay.

—

Mick and I stroll into the Mercedes garage hand in hand, fresh coffees in the other, pretending we haven’t done this exact routine a dozen times before. Same arrival, same subtle smiles, same people pretending not to stare. We’re not flashy—never have been. But apparently, walking in with your boyfriend of several years and holding his hand still counts as news in this paddock. The second we step past the threshold, I hear it.

“Must we hold hands in the workplace?”

Toto’s voice cuts through the soft hum of team chatter and tire guns like a judge entering court. I don’t even look up from my coffee.

“Morning to you too, Papa.”

He’s standing by the pit wall, arms crossed, headset around his neck, giving us the look—somewhere between annoyed principal and long-suffering father.

Mick just smiles, completely unbothered. “Good to see you too, Toto.”

Toto grumbles something about professionalism under his breath and waves us off like he’s allergic to affection. I let go of Mick’s hand just to be petty and blow my father a kiss. He pretends not to see it. We’re barely two steps deeper into the garage when a blur of movement crashes into us.

“YN—I need you. It’s an emergency.”

I turn to see Kimi Antonelli skidding to a stop beside me, tablet in hand, hair sticking up like he’s been electrocuted.

“Please tell me this isn’t another laundry crisis,” I say, sipping my coffee.

“No, worse. Math.”

He shoves the tablet into my hands, eyes wide. “I have to submit this calculus quiz in an hour and I don’t know what I’m doing and I already used up my free trial on that homework app thing and—”

“Kimi,” I interrupt gently, scrolling through the page, “you used the cosine function on a linear problem.”

“I panicked!”

Mick peers over my shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Is that… is that a meme in the middle of your solution?”

“It’s context,” Kimi says defensively. “Visual learning.”

I glance back at Toto. He sighs and mutters something that I’m 80% sure translates to “I need a raise.”

Kimi’s bouncing nervously beside me. “You can fix it, right? You went to actual university. You know things. You’re terrifyingly smart.”

“I’ll help,” I promise, smiling. “But you’re buying me a cupcake later.”

“Done. Two cupcakes. I’ll name my firstborn after you. Please just don’t let me fail.”

I sit down on a spare stool, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, while Kimi settles in beside me and I begin to explain the cosine function to him. Mick sits across from us and offers emotional support for Kimi.

—

Kimi’s halfway through solving for x—with the dramatic flair of someone diffusing a bomb and not just doing high school math—when he suddenly perks up, eyes flicking toward the entrance.

“Oh! I told the guys to swing by,” he announces, like he’s summoned a group of puppies instead of three more chaotic rookies. “They need your legal help. Also, Jack still owes me food.”

I open my mouth to protest—mostly because this is my workspace and not a study hall—but I’m too late. Isack, Ollie, and Jack stroll into the garage like they’ve done it a million times. Which, to be fair, they pretty much have. Isack’s already deep in conversation with George. Ollie’s sipping on his latte. And Jack…

Jack’s the last one through the door. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his Alpine gear jacket half-zipped, and that familiar, cocky grin is already tugging at his face. His hair’s a little wind-tossed, eyes sharp as they scan the garage—until they land on me.

And that’s when something changes. It’s small. Subtle. But I feel it. We’ve known each other for years. I’ve seen him after races, through interviews, in group chats roasting each other to death. I know his stats, his bad habits, and the fact that he secretly loves corny dad jokes. But when he looks at me this time… it’s different.

“Hey, counselor,” Jack says, his voice smooth, familiar, but the way he says it has weight. Like it’s not just a joke anymore.

I raise an eyebrow. “Hey, future client.”

Kimi chimes in, snorting. “Don’t flirt with her, Jack. She’ll make you do math.”

Jack’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Maybe I should. Might actually learn something.”

The comment lands softly but solidly—enough to make something flicker in my chest. I feel Mick shift beside me, subtle but definitely there. A small tightening of his hand on the back of my stool. A reminder. A presence.

I tilt my head at Jack, keeping my voice light. “Only if you show your work.”

Jack smirks, like that’s exactly the answer he was hoping for.

Ollie slides into the chair across from me. “Kimi, if this is about your math quiz again, I’m begging you—stop sending me panic texts at 2 AM.”

“You said you were awake!”

“I was busy!”

“At 2 am?” I questioned with a smirk.

Isack leans in over my shoulder and holds out his phone. “Can you read this brand deal for me and see if I should say yes?”

The moment disperses in rookie noise—complaints, questions, bickering about everything under the sun —but even as I scroll through Isack’s email, I catch Jack watching me again.

—

three month time skip

The ocean is quiet today. Waves roll in soft and slow, like they’re trying not to interrupt anyone’s peace. The sun is warm—not too harsh, not too dull. Just enough to feel like summer without sweating through my sanity. It’s rare for a day to feel still during the season, but somehow, this one does. I stretch out on the oversized towel, my legs tangled with the pages of my study guide, a half-highlighted section on constructive trusts fluttering in the breeze. I should be focused. I need to be focused. The bar exam is a monster creeping closer by the day, and my outlines are starting to blur together like one long fever dream.

But instead of thinking about fiduciary duties, I’m watching Mick and Jack attempt to skim a frisbee across the sand like it’s an Olympic event.

Jack dives dramatically after it—misses by a mile—and flops onto his back, arms out like he’s been shot.

Mick laughs, all golden and easy, brushing sand off his chest and tossing the frisbee back with a smirk. “That’s six in a row. Are you okay? Do you need medical?”

“Pretty sure the sand is actively sabotaging me,” Jack calls back.

“You’re actively sabotaging you,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

Jack hears it. He sits up and shoots me a grin. “You wound me, counselor.”

I roll my eyes and go back to underlining the statute that’s been haunting my dreams all week. We’ve spent a lot of time together this season—more than I expected. It started with paddock run-ins, dinners, legal meetings with my rookies. Then it turned into post-session coffees, long hotel conversations, quiet dinners in Mick’s apartment where Jack somehow always showed up with wine and a dumb story.

It’s not that I don’t love it. I do. I love the rhythm we’ve fallen into. Mick’s calm presence beside me when my brain’s overloaded. Jack’s ridiculous one-liners that make me laugh even when I want to scream. The way they both know not to talk when I’m flipping flashcards like a machine—but also the way they do talk when they know I’m spiraling. Mick comes over now, sweat-slick and sun-kissed, flopping down beside me. He leans over to kiss my temple, his hand ghosting over my back before settling at my waist.

“Still memorizing?” he murmurs, peeking at the page.

“Trying,” I say, voice soft. “Jack’s dramatic death scenes aren’t helping.”

“I love chaos,” Jack says from his new position, halfway buried in sand. “It’s what I bring to this group.”

Mick grins, then gently takes my pen out of my hand and sets it on the towel. “Just ten minutes. Close your eyes. Breathe.”

“I—”

“No arguing,” he says.

I huff but oblige, stretching back onto the towel, letting the sun soak into my skin. Jack wanders over and collapses beside me with a groan, head landing near my shoulder.

“Tell me again why law school doesn’t give you beach credits,” he says. “You’d be top of your class.”

“Because justice isn’t served on a towel,” I mumble.

“Maybe it should be.”

Mick chuckles quietly beside me. I can feel his fingers trace absent patterns over my ribs. Jack’s hand brushes mine in the sand, just barely—not on purpose, but he doesn’t move it either. And for a moment, I forget about everything else. The exam. The season. The rules I usually live by. Because between the two of them, the world feels quieter. Easier.

—

Mick’s POV

The sun’s starting to sink into the horizon, brushing everything in that soft, golden haze that makes the world feel suspended—just for a little while. The three of us are still stretched out on the beach, tangled in towels, sand, and half-finished thoughts. YN’s curled on her side next to me, finally napping, her study guide open but forgotten under her arm. Her face is relaxed in a way it rarely is lately—no bar stress, no logistics spreadsheets, no weight of being Toto Wolff’s daughter or the girl who holds half the paddock together like duct tape.

Just YN. Just this moment. And then there’s Jack.

He’s quiet now, legs stretched out in the sand, arms propped behind him as he watches the sun drop lower over the water. But every so often, his eyes shift. Not toward the sky, or the waves, or anything else. Toward her.

It’s subtle. If I didn’t already know him, I might’ve missed it. But I do know him.

I see the way his expression softens when he thinks no one’s watching. The way his eyes linger on the curve of her cheek, the loose strands of hair brushing against her lips in the wind. The way his fingers twitch slightly, like maybe they want to reach out but know better. It’s not the kind of look you give a friend.

It’s the kind of look you give someone you’re trying really hard not to fall for—even though it might already be too late.

I don’t feel jealousy. Not exactly. It’s something more complicated than that. I’ve loved her for years. And she’s loved me back. Steady. Quiet. Unshakable. We built something strong—something real. But lately, with Jack… things have shifted. I can feel it. The way she laughs around him. The way her eyes sparkle a little brighter when he walks in. The way she listens when he talks, like she already knows what he’s going to say, and wants to hear it anyway. And the thing is…I don’t hate it.

Jack’s become part of us, whether we planned for it or not. He’s stayed late after races to help clean up her flashcards. He’s waited in hotel lobbies with bags of snacks when she’s come back from mock trials too drained to function. He teases her in a way I never could—sharp-edged but safe. Challenging, but kind.

And now, on this beach, under this sky, watching him watch her…I wonder if maybe this thing we’ve built—YN and I—was never meant to have walls. Maybe there’s room for something more. Maybe there’s room for him.

She stirs beside me, eyelashes fluttering as she stretches and yawns. I reach over, brushing a bit of sand from her cheek.

“You okay?” she mumbles, eyes still half-closed.

“Yeah,” I say, soft. “Just thinking.”

Jack glances away quickly, like he wasn’t caught. But I saw. And I don’t think I mind. Not yet. Maybe not at all.

—

yn_wolff

liked by jackdoohan, mickschumacher, kimi.antonelli & 2,509,002 others.

yn_wolff : bar exam is 5 days away and it has consumed me so enjoy these pics (ft jack my paralegal and tech support) (and mick, my emotional support boyfriend)

tagged : jackdoohan, mickschumacher and susie_wolff

—

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georgerussell63 : less thirst trap more study

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : ironic coming from a man that never has a shirt on

liked by georgerussell63 and lando

kimi.antonelli : why is jack suddenly the third wheel??! I thought it was me 😕

liked by yn_wolff and jackdoohan

↳ yn_wolff : I do not see you as a third wheel kimi, I see you as my child

liked by kimi.antonelli and mickschumacher

↳ kimi.antonelli : oh okay 😁 that makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside

liked by yn_wolff

mickschumacher : my greatest achievement in life is being your emotional support boyfriend

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : you do a rlly good job 😻

susie_wolff : You got this, beautiful girl! We are all rooting for you ❤️

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : mommmmmy i love you 😭 shopping spree if i pass??

liked by susie_wolff

↳ susie_wolff : can’t wait for it! 😁

jackdoohan : adding paralegal, tech support and third wheel onto my resume

liked by yn_wolff

↳ yn_wolff : my fave third wheel

liked by jackdoohan

↳ yn_wolff : don’t forget expert frisbee player

liked by jackdoohan and mickschumacher

—

There’s a low buzz under my skin that’s been there since 5AM, a combination of adrenaline, dread, and the overwhelming urge to sprint in the opposite direction. Today is bar exam day, and I haven’t decided whether I’m ready or just completely numb. Jack is riding shotgun, legs kicked up on the dash, spinning a pen between his fingers like he’s the one about to sit this thing. Mick’s driving with the kind of focused calm that’s the only thing keeping me from absolutely losing it. We’re about ten minutes from the testing center when my phone rings in my lap.

Papa is calling...

I blink at the name for a second before answering. “Hi.”

“YN,” comes Toto’s voice—calm, steady, and warm in a way he rarely gets to be when the whole world is watching him. “Just checking in. Are you feeling okay?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “As okay as someone facing seven hours of legal hazing can be.”

Mick chuckles.

“I wish I could be there,” Toto says. “But I know you. You’ve worked for this. You’ve done everything right. Today is just… the final step.”

“I know,” I say, voice smaller than I intended.

There’s a pause, then his voice softens. “You’re going to be brilliant. No matter what happens, I’m proud of you. Call me when you’re done—your mother is already pacing.”

“Of course she is,” I laugh, blinking fast. “Thanks, Papa. I love you.”

“I love you too, meine Kleine. Now go show them what a Wolff can do.”

When I hang up, there’s a beat of silence. Jack’s looking out the window like he didn’t hear the whole thing. Mick reaches back and sets a hand on my knee.

“I like supportive Toto,” Jack says, mock-wiping a tear from his eye. “Character development.”

Mick just squeezes my hand. “You okay?”

I nod, the nerves still there but… less crushing now. “Yeah. That helped.”

“Good,” Jack says, grinning as we pull into the drop-off. “Because you’re about to argue with the ghost of every law professor you’ve ever had.”

“I swear to God,” I mutter as I step out of the car.

Jack hops out and jogs around, already adjusting my bag on my shoulders like some chaotic assistant-slash-bodyguard. Mick joins us a second later and smooths the collar of my blazer.

“You look terrifyingly competent,” Jack declares.

“Terrifying in general,” Mick adds with a soft smile.

Before I can roll my eyes at them, I get two forehead kisses—one from each of them. Like clockwork. Like it’s normal.

“Go make the justice system your bitch,” Jack whispers.

“And call us the second you’re done,” Mick says. “We’ll be right here.”

I take one breath. Then another. And walk inside without looking back. But I know they’re both standing there, waiting—my boyfriend and my maybe-something-more, and my dad just a phone call away.

—

It’s done. Seven hours. Multiple essays. Hundreds of bubbles filled in so aggressively that I snapped my second pencil during Contracts. My brain feels like mashed potatoes and my hands are trembling, whether from adrenaline, exhaustion, or caffeine withdrawal—I genuinely don’t know. The fluorescent lights of the testing center feel like a personal attack. The air is stale. Everyone looks like they just returned from war. My legs are moving toward the exit before I fully process that it’s over. My mouth is dry. My heart’s still racing. And I’m this close to crying, but not the good kind. The kind where you’re not even sure what you’re crying about—just that your body needs to release something. The second I step outside into the late afternoon sun, I see them. Mick and Jack, leaning against the car.

“CONGRATS TO OUR FAVORITE LAWYER”

(with an asterisk below that reads: *we’re still not sure what tort law is but we believe in you.)

Mick’s holding an iced coffee and the softest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Hey,” he says gently, pushing off the car. “You made it.”

My bottom lip wobbles. “Barely.”

Jack lowers the sign and jogs the last few steps toward me. “What’s the verdict, Counselor?”

I shake my head. “I don’t even remember what I wrote. I think I may have argued with myself in one of the essays.”

“So… standard Tuesday?” he teases, grinning, and I let out a strangled laugh. He steps forward and wraps his arms around me, warm and solid and completely distracting from the lump still sitting in my throat. “I’m proud of you,” he murmurs. “So proud.”

Mick joins us a moment later, wrapping his arms around both of us, letting me sink between them like I’m allowed to collapse for just a second. Like I don’t have to be composed or capable right now.

“I brought coffee,” he says, pulling back just enough to press it into my hand. “And we have snacks in the car. And I promise you’re not allowed to think about any legal principle until at least… tomorrow.”

I rest my forehead against his chest. “I don’t even know how to function right now.”

“You don’t have to,” Jack says softly. “That’s what we’re here for.”

I blink up at them—my boyfriend and my… well, Jack—and suddenly I am crying. But this time it’s the good kind. The messy, exhausted, grateful kind.

They don’t freak out. They just hold me. Let me fall apart a little. Let me be human.

“You did it,” Mick says into my hair. “It’s over.”

The two got me in the car and I finally started to calm down. I don’t know where we’re going until the car slows in front of a restaurant I definitely recognize—but only because it’s impossibly nice and I once spilled tomato soup in the entryway during a Wolff family brunch when I was twelve.

“Guys,” I say warily, adjusting my hoodie and messy bun. “I look like I’ve been in a bunker. We can’t go in here.”

“You look perfect,” Mick says, already out of the car.

Jack grins, holding the door open for me. “Also, too late. We made a reservation.”

I give them both suspicious glares as they usher me inside, but my mouth is too full of caffeine and exhaustion to argue.

We step through the doorway, and I’m met with the unmistakable sound of—

“There she is!”

I stop dead.

At the corner table, Toto and Susie are standing up—standing—with huge grins on their faces and a bottle of champagne already being uncorked by a very confused waiter.

“No. No way,” I whisper, turning back toward the boys, who are now both beaming like the smug little traitors they are.

“You’re not the only one who can pull off a surprise,” Jack says.

“I didn’t agree to this emotionally,” I say, but my voice is already trembling.

Toto steps forward first, wrapping me in a big, warm hug before I even have time to breathe. “You did it, meine Liebe. I don’t care what your score is—you showed up, and that’s more than most people will ever do.”

“Papa,” I mumble, melting against him.

He pulls back and cups my cheek like I’m still six years old. “I’m so proud of you I could explode.”

Susie hugs me next, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I told him we should have met you at the test center, but he wanted the lighting in here to be better for photos.”

Toto scoffs. “I did not say that.”

Mick and Jack are already sliding into seats beside me, practically glowing with pride as the waiter pours the champagne.

“You thought we were just taking you to dinner,” Jack says, nudging my shoulder.

“I thought I was going to cry in a drive-thru parking lot and then fall asleep,” I admit.

“Well, now you get pasta, champagne, and people who love you instead,” Mick says.

I glance around the table—at Toto, beaming like I just won the constructors’ championship; at Susie, already pulling out a small gift bag from under the table; and at the two idiots beside me who spent the last six months making sure I never gave up.

And for the first time all day, my brain stops spinning. I smile. It’s small and soft, but it’s real.

“Okay,” I say. “Now it feels real.”

—

I almost didn’t check. Not because I didn’t care—but because I cared too much. Because part of me still doesn’t believe I’m the kind of person who gets good news after months of surviving on nerves and flashcards and microwave ramen. But now I’m staring at the screen, hands over my mouth, tears welling up so fast I don’t even register the moment I start crying. I passed. I. Passed. A second later, my laptop is yanked away—gently—and Mick’s arms are around me, lifting me up and spinning me once before setting me back on the couch.

“You did it,” he whispers, kissing my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. “I knew you would.”

I can’t breathe. I’m sobbing into his chest and laughing at the same time, and when Jack bursts into the room—barefoot, holding a half-eaten banana —he freezes, wide-eyed.

“Wait. Is this a happy cry?”

I lift my head and nod. Jack lets out a whoop so loud it makes the dog next door start barking. “She passed?! She passed!” He ditches the banana and practically tackles me onto the couch, both of them hugging me like I’ve just been knighted and crowned in one motion.

Susie bursts in next, phone in hand. “Toto and I were tracking the portal. You passed?”

Mick beams. “She passed.”

Toto appears a heartbeat later with two bottles of champagne. “We’re celebrating. Tonight. No excuses.”

I laugh, wiping tears from my cheeks. “What if I wanted a quiet night in?”

“No,” he says firmly. “You are my daughter. You passed the bar. And we are going out.”

Susie kisses the top of my head. “Already called the restaurant. Private room. Best desserts in the city.”

But when we’re about to leave, Jack slips into his shoes and pulls me aside in the hallway.

“Hey,” he says softly, eyes flicking toward the front door. “I’m not coming tonight.”

I blink. “What? Why not?”

He rubs the back of his neck, not quite meeting my gaze. “Just—something I need to handle. Nothing bad, I swear. I just… need the night.”

I frown. “Jack…”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Go. You deserve the celebration. You earned every second of it.”

Mick joins us at the door, tilting his head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jack says quickly. “Take her out. Have a drink for me, Counselor.”

And before I can press him any further, he leans in, kisses the side of my head, and gives me a quick squeeze. He’s gone a second later, disappearing into his car and driving off before I can even think of calling his name. I glance up at Mick, who looks just as confused.

“Weird?” I ask.

“Weird,” he agrees.

Still, there’s champagne waiting. A proud father with a reservation. A night I’ll never forget. But as we drive away, as Toto tells me how proud he is and Susie starts planning a Europe trip in my honor, my mind drifts. To Jack. To the way he looked at me right before he left. Like maybe something inside him is shifting, too.

—

yn_wolff

liked by susie_wolff, georgerussell63, mickschumacher & 4,098,001 others.

yn_wolff : yours truly is officially a lawyer😭 thank you to everyone who supported me on this journey— my friends, my family, my boyfriend — everyone. i love you all.

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mercedesamgf1 : Congratulations YN! 🎉🍾🙌🏻 We knew you could do it!

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susie_wolff : We are SO proud of you. You earned this, YN. You are incredible! ❤️❤️

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georgerussell63 : as much as I pick on you, I am genuinely so proud of you. if I ever found myself in legal trouble, I suppose I’d trust you to get me out of it 😉

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gina_schumacher : MY GIRLLLL!! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT. I AM SO SO PROUD.

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mickschumacher : proud is an understatement. you are incredible, my love. you never fail to amaze me 🫶🏻

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kimi.antonelli : YAYYYYYYY MOMMMMMM😁😁

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olliebearman : Congratulations YN!! We all knew you could do it. Any chance you can help me get out of something I accidentally signed? 😁😁

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755,304 likes.

f1 : Alpine has announced that Jack Doohan is out and will be replaced by Franco Colapinto for the remainder of the season.

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The music in the private room is soft and jazzy, the kind Toto insists creates the perfect dinner ambiance. There’s champagne in my glass, a slice of pistachio cake in front of me, and Susie’s in the middle of telling a story about how I used to cross-examine my kindergarten teacher over snack time distribution. Everyone’s laughing. I should be laughing. But then my phone buzzes on the table beside my plate—once, twice, a third time. Group chats. Twitter notifications. F1 alerts.

I glance down lazily, expecting another George Russell meme. But then my eyes catch on the headline at the top of my screen.

BREAKING: Jack Doohan Dropped From Alpine and to be replaced by Franco Colapinto for the remainder of the season.

The room spins. My chair scrapes against the floor before I even know I’m standing.

“YN?” Mick’s voice is soft but confused. “What’s wrong?”

I stare down at my phone, my thumb shaking as I scroll. It’s confirmed. Official. Just posted. His name is everywhere—“unexpected,” “internal restructuring,” “development priorities.” All corporate bullshit masking the fact that they just… let him go.

Toto’s already leaning forward. “What happened?”

“Jack,” I breathe. “Jack got dropped from Alpine.”

Mick’s face falls. “Wait, what?”

My heart is pounding now, the air around me too tight. Too loud.

“I—I need to find him,” I say, already grabbing my bag. “I need to go.”

Susie stands up. “YN, slow down—he might need space—”

“No,” I cut her off, eyes already burning. “He was off all night. He knew. He didn’t want to ruin today for me. And I let him leave without—without saying anything.”

Toto gently reaches for my wrist. “Do you know where he is?”

“He wouldn’t go home,” I say quickly, mind racing. “He probably went to the marina. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could fall apart without anyone watching.”

Mick is already sliding into his jacket, calm and steady. “I’ll drive.”

Toto gives me one long, thoughtful look—then nods. “Go. We’ll wrap everything up here.”

“Call me if he doesn’t pick up,” Susie adds. “And tell him we’re proud of him no matter what.”

I nod, lips pressed tightly together. My chest aches. My eyes sting. Jack is my friend. One of my best friends. My my mock trial partner, my grounding force these past few months. The one who sat next to me on the floor while I cried over contracts law and made stupid jokes about torts until I stopped shaking.

And now he’s hurting. Alone. And I don’t care that this is my night. I don’t care that I passed the bar. None of it means anything if he’s out there falling apart by himself. Because somewhere between all those late nights and long drives and inside jokes—I stopped thinking of Jack as just a friend. And I’m not going to let him go through this without me.

—

The streets blur past outside the car window, neon lights streaking across the windshield like we’re racing time itself. Mick doesn’t say much—he doesn’t need to. His hand rests on my thigh the whole drive, grounding me as my mind spirals.

“He knew,” I whisper, barely audible over the hum of the engine. “He knew and he still showed up for me.”

Mick squeezes gently. “That’s who Jack is.”

I nod, wiping at my eyes. “That’s why we have to find him.”

It doesn’t take long. Jack’s a creature of habit, always retreating to the water when things get too loud. We pull into the empty marina just after sunset, the sky streaked with indigo and gold, boats gently rocking in their slips. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Too peaceful for the kind of grief I know he must be carrying.

We walk together in silence, scanning the docks until—

“There,” I breathe, pointing.

Jack’s sitting near the end of one of the docks, legs hanging over the edge, a hoodie pulled over his head and headphones around his neck. He’s staring out at the water like it might offer him some kind of answer. Like if he stares hard enough, the waves will make the reality go away. I don’t wait. I jog the last few steps, the wooden boards echoing under my feet until I’m dropping to my knees behind him.

“Jack,” I say softly.

He flinches slightly, but doesn’t turn.

“You should be at your party,” he murmurs, voice rough and low.

“You should’ve called me,” I reply.

Silence.

“I didn’t want to ruin your moment,” he finally says. “You deserved to have that without… this.”

I crawl closer until I’m sitting beside him, shoulder pressed gently against his. “You’re part of that moment, Jack. Every late night, every meltdown—you carried me through it. Don’t you get that?”

He swallows hard, still staring ahead. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Mick walks up behind us and crouches on Jack’s other side, his presence solid and warm. “That’s not true. You’re still you, Jack. You’re still damn good.”

Jack lets out a bitter little laugh. “Good doesn’t keep you in a seat.”

“No,” I say quietly. “But being loved does.”

That gets him to turn. His eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been holding it together for hours. Like if anyone says the wrong thing, he’ll fall apart. So I say nothing else. Just lean in and wrap my arms around him. He stiffens at first, then melts, pressing his forehead to my shoulder like he’s been holding his breath all day and only just now exhaled.

Mick wraps one arm around us both, his hand settling on the back of Jack’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” I whisper back. “Not now. Not ever.”

The three of us sit there for a long time, no words needed. Just the sound of the water lapping against the docks, the breeze rustling the sails, and our hearts slowly settling back into rhythm beside each other. Because this isn’t the end. Not for Jack. Not for us.

—

Jack’s POV

I wake up slowly. It’s warm—too warm. Not the kind of heat from the sun, but the kind that comes from being wrapped in a blanket you don’t remember getting into, on a couch that doesn’t quite belong to you, with the faint scent of vanilla and clean laundry all around. For a second, I don’t move. I just listen. Soft footsteps in the kitchen. A kettle clicking on. Someone humming faintly—YN. I’d know her voice anywhere, even when it’s just a tune under her breath.

I blink open my eyes and realize I’m at their place—Mick and YN’s. Their living room is full of soft light, the curtains cracked open just enough to let the sun in. A hoodie has been draped over me. Not mine. Mick’s, I think. I shift slightly, and that’s when I see him—Mick, on the other armchair, feet propped up, flipping through some sports section and sipping tea like this is the most normal morning in the world.

He glances up. Smiles. “Morning.”

I clear my throat. “Hey.”

“Coffee’s on,” he says casually. “YN’s making those protein muffins she claims are good. No promises.”

I try to smile. I fail.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I murmur.

Mick shrugs. “You didn’t have to either. But here we are.”

He says it like it’s simple. Like there’s no weight behind it. But I can still feel it in my chest—that ache that started when the Alpine email hit, the one that only got worse when I imagined YN out celebrating without knowing the ground was collapsing under me.

And then she came. And Mick. And they stayed.

“Do I look like a disaster?” I ask, rubbing a hand down my face.

“You look like someone who got blindsided by bad news and didn’t deserve it,” YN says, stepping in from the kitchen with a mug in her hand.

She walks over and hands it to me—hot, just the way I like it, the way she knows I like it—and I don’t think I’ve ever felt more seen.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” she adds softly. “Just so you know.”

I stare at her, throat tight. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not,” she says immediately. “You’re family.”

I can’t speak. I can barely breathe past the lump forming in my chest. So I nod. Once. Twice. And then she leans down and presses a kiss to the top of my head, her hand cupping the back of my neck for just a second too long. It’s comfort. It’s home. It’s… something else. Something I don’t dare name. Yet. Mick watches us with that unreadable expression of his—calm, patient, knowing far more than he lets on. Then he tilts his head, eyes back on me.

“You’re staying here for a few days.”

It’s not a question.

“I—”

“No arguing,” YN says, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You’re not going to be alone right now.”

I swallow hard and let the warmth of the coffee settle into my hands. They’re not going to let me fall. Even if part of me already has.

—

your pov

The apartment is quiet. Jack’s asleep in the guest room, finally. He tried to insist he didn’t need it, but Mick gave him that look, the one that doesn’t leave any room for argument, and now he’s tucked in under fresh sheets, breathing even and soft behind a closed door.

I sit on the couch in one of Mick’s t-shirts, legs pulled up under me, half a cup of tea cooling in my hands.

Mick joins me a minute later, dropping beside me with a low sigh, his hair still damp from the shower, his expression unreadable—but tired. Not from the day. From the weight of it all.

“He finally fell asleep?” I murmur.

Mick nods. “Out like a light.”

I rest my head against his shoulder, letting the silence settle between us like a blanket. We sit like that for a while. Until I say it.

“He means a lot to me.”

Mick doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even shift. He just exhales slowly, like he’s been waiting for me to say it.

“I know,” he says quietly. “He means a lot to me, too.”

I close my eyes. “I didn’t expect it. Not like this. Not so quickly.”

He hums. “I did.”

I glance up. “You did?”

Mick shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I saw it before you did. The way you light up when he texts. How you always wait to see if he’s going to sit next to you. You never said it, but I’ve always known.”

My stomach twists—not with guilt, but something gentler. Deeper. More real.

“You’re not upset?”

He turns to look at me fully now, his gaze soft but steady. “No. Because I’ve seen how much love you have to give. And I’ve seen how Jack looks at you when you’re not watching.”

I swallow hard, emotion catching in my throat. “Mick…”

He cups my cheek with one hand. “Loving you doesn’t mean I have less to give. If anything… I think there’s more room now.”

I blink at him, tears suddenly stinging behind my eyes.

“You think…?” I whisper.

Mick nods. “I think he fits.”

It’s so simple. So honest. And it breaks me open in the best way.

I lean forward, pressing my forehead to his, trying to steady myself. “I don’t know where this goes. Or what it becomes.”

“Neither do I,” he says softly. “But I trust us. And I trust him.”

I pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You really saw it before I did?”

He grins. “Baby… I saw it the first time you made him coffee without asking how he takes it.”

I laugh, tears slipping free down my cheeks as I pull him into a hug, burying my face in his shoulder. “How are you always so good to me?”

He wraps his arms around me, warm and sure. “Because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if Jack becomes part of that too, then… maybe he’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to us.”

And somewhere, deep in my chest, something finally settles. Something clicks into place. Because Mick’s right. Jack fits.

—

It’s late, and the apartment feels quieter than usual.

The TV’s still glowing softly with the Netflix menu, long past the point where it asked if we were still watching. The takeout containers are scattered across the coffee table, half-eaten spring rolls abandoned in favor of something heavier that’s been hanging in the air all evening.

Jack sits on the floor across from us, legs stretched out, hair a little messy from the ocean wind earlier. Mick’s beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against the back of my hand.

It’s time.

I glance at Mick. He gives the smallest nod.

I swallow and look at Jack.

“Jack,” I say softly.

His eyes lift to mine immediately. So open. So guarded. My heart squeezes.

“We wanted to talk to you.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stiffen. Just nods. “Okay.”

Mick shifts slightly, his voice low but certain. “We’ve been talking a lot… about how things have changed. How they feel now. With you.”

Jack stays quiet, listening the way he always does—with his whole heart, even if he doesn’t realize it. I take a breath. A real one.

“You’ve become really important to us,” I say gently. “I love Mick. I always will. That hasn’t changed. But somewhere along the way… I started loving you too.”

I see it land in his eyes like thunder.

And then Mick speaks, calm and grounded. “I care about you more than I expected to, Jack. Not as someone crashing on our couch. Not as a friend we needed to help. But as someone I want here. With us.”

It’s terrifying to say it out loud. Even with Mick’s hand still in mine. Even with the way Jack’s gaze softens like he’s seeing sunlight for the first time in days.

“You’re allowed to say no,” I add quickly, heart pounding. “We’ll still love you. We’ll still want you in our lives. This isn’t some pressure thing. We just—”

“I’m in.”

He says it like he’s been holding it in for months.

“I’m in,” he repeats, quieter. “God, I’ve been in for months.”

Tears burn behind my eyes before I can stop them. My breath catches in my throat.

Mick tilts his head, steady as ever. “You sure?”

Jack nods, eyes on mine. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I just… didn’t think I was allowed to want this.”

That’s all it takes. I move across the floor before I even think, my arms sliding around him, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me immediately, tight and desperate and familiar. And then Mick is there too—his arms around both of us, grounding us, completing something I didn’t even realize had been unfinished until this very moment. Because this isn’t messy. It isn’t complicated. It’s love. Real, deep, terrifying love. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like too much. It feels like exactly enough.

—

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yn_wolff : my boys forever n ever

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v6quewrlds · 4 months ago

Text

REWIND, JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.8k.

summary⠀⁎⠀a collection of firsts & special moments.

author's note⠀⁎⠀thee timeline fic! featuring a little backstory about wifey. another installment in my 'joe can't shut up when he's in love' campaign. incorporated things discussed in the wifey tag <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, established relationship, some smut & angst but mostly fluff.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist / series masterlist.

BACKSTORY, about her.

Honor Roll student, president of every club she set foot in, certified over-achiever. From a young age, she knew exactly what she was put on this earth to do: succeed. She had always been perfectly self-motivated, a tireless perfectionist whose determination landed her a full ride to MIT.

Living in Boston taught her a lot about life.

Double-majoring in Biology & Psychology while designating yourself as a Pre-Med student is not for the weak.

Gummies make her tummy ache.

It's never a good idea to mix liquor with beer.

She needs her pilates fix even if it might bankrupt her.

Those lessons paled compared to the one she learned from the 6-foot-tall Economics major who lived across the hall from her. Junior year made for a lot of ups and downs as she began her studying for the MCAT. Mr. Economics ruined her perception of love and forced her to swear off men. Indefinitely.

For the next few years, that decision proved to work out well for her. Perfectly on track, she attended medical school at UPenn. Though she was unfortunately separated from her best friend and college roommate, Leah, she made it a point to stay on track. No time for serious conversations - much less relationships - with men.

By some miracle, she matched into Case Western's Dermatology program, where Leah also matched for Anesthesiology. To celebrate, she and Leah immediately found an apartment in Cleveland and decided to throw a hybrid graduation/housewarming party. Kyla, deciding she had enough of her best friend's swearing off of men, extended an invitation to her brother's childhood friend: Cincinnati Bengals starting quarterback, Joe Burrow.

Coming off of a season-ending injury his rookie year, Leah sent Joe a charming text urging him to stop by under the guise of good vibes, a promised slice of cake, and a girl she thought he should meet.

"What do you think? Denim skirt with the black tube top or the red mini-dress?" Leah asked, holding up two options as she stood in front of the full-length mirror in their shared bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, swiping through her phone, distractedly offering an opinion. "Red mini-dress," she murmured, her thoughts already drifting to the party preparations.

The apartment was a modest two-bedroom in an up-and-coming Cleveland neighborhood, a place they'd both be calling home for the next few years as they embarked on their medical residencies. The walls were a soft shade of cream, with hints of pink and blue in the accent pillows and curtains. The living room was a cozy blend of second-hand furniture and IKEA staples provided by Leah's parents, now transformed with strings of fairy lights and a makeshift bar set up on a folding table.

She was already dressed, her own leopard mini-skirt paired with a black corset top that accentuated her curves. She'd spent hours getting ready, her hair in loose curls that fell down her back, her makeup a perfect blend of smoky and natural. The scent of her favorite vanilla perfume lingered in the air as she lifted her gaze from her phone to look at Leah. Her best friend looked stunning in both outfits, but the red mini-dress was definitely the winner. It hugged her figure in all the right places and brought out the life in her brown eyes.

The doorbell rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. "Oh, shit!" Leah squealed. "Help me decide on shoes!" Leah grabbed a pair of strappy black heels and a set of red ones, holding them up to the dress. She nodded towards the black ones, her hands reaching to help Leah zip her dress the rest of the way up. "Aren't those Kayla's?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Leah rolled her eyes. "In the breakup box for a reason. But they're the only ones that don't kill my feet." She stepped into the shoes and twirled around. "Alright, let's do this," she said, leading the way to the front door as they headed to greet their first guests.

The party grew in numbers and volume as the night went on, the laughter and chatter filling the air. She felt the tension of the past few months of exams and residency applications slowly unraveling as she mingled with her friends from Penn, Leah's from Ohio State, and those they both met at MIT. The music played a mix of their favorite tracks, and the smell of pizza and various flavors of wings wafted from the kitchen. Leah's friends from high school had brought a few board games, which had devolved into drunken versions of Cards Against Humanity and Jenga.

Joe Burrow had arrived nearly 30 minutes prior, his towering frame and perfectly coiffed golden brown hair preventing him from fully blending in with the rest of the crowd. The guests had buzzed around him, eager to talk about his recovery, his future in the NFL, and the upcoming reunion with one of his wide receivers from his national title-winning LSU team. She had caught glimpses of him from across the room, it was hard not to as he stood head and shoulders above the vast majority of the partygoers.

She was vaguely aware of Leah's connection to the Bengals starting quarterback. Her younger brother had played with him in high school, Leah and Joe hadn't been particularly close since then. Yet, here he was, looking like a god in a room full of mere mortals—the others in the room certainly treated him like one.

"Babe!" Leah's voice cut through the chatter as she approached, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want you to meet someone." Leah grabbed her hand and practically dragged her across the room. "Joe, this is my roommate and best friend," Leah announced, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she made the introduction. "Babe, this is Joe. He's really good friends with Alex. We grew up together," she added with a dramatic flair.

Joe extended his hand with a polite smile. "Nice to meet you." His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine. He had a firm handshake, undoubtedly honed over years of convincing rich old men to take a chance on him. She could feel her face heating up, a meekness that she hoped the dim lighting would hide. She took his hand, giving it a firm shake back. "It's nice to meet you too," she replied, her voice surprisingly steady despite the sudden jitters in her stomach.

Leah practically vibrated with excitement as she played matchmaker, conveniently leaving them to navigate the awkwardness of their first encounter. Her eyes locked onto Joe's, noticing the playful twinkle in his baby blues as he watched Leah depart just as suddenly as she'd arrived. He took a sip of his soda, his bicep flexing against the fabric of his t-shirt, and she found herself momentarily speechless.

"Can I get you a drink? An actual drink?" She offered, trying to shake off the nerves with as brilliant a smile as she could muster.

Joe's eyes lit up at the prospect of a break from the lukewarm soda. "Sure, what do you have?" he asked, long legs trailing behind her as she led him to the makeshift bar. She grabbed a chilled can of vodka soda, popped it open, and handed it to him. He took it with a nod of thanks.

Two High Noons, a shot of tequila, half a spilled drink, and two hours later, she found herself in a corner of her crowded living room, almost chest-to-chest with Joe. The music had gotten louder, the lights dimmer, and the party had evolved into a dance floor with a pulsing bass line. Up close, he was magnetic. Intense blue eyes, an impossibly broad frame, and a smile that could melt the panties off a glacier. In the span of two hours, they had managed to exchange their entire life's stories—his football triumphs, her medical school horrors, and their near identical gym playlists.

"Come on, you can't be serious," Joe said with a laugh, holding his ice water contained in a red Solo cup against his chest.

She leaned against the wall, shaking her head with feigned distaste. "There isn't a single universe where Eminem has the best verse on 'Forever'. It's all Wayne," she insisted, watching his expression over the top of her own cup.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Did we listen to the same song? Because Eminem's verse on that track is untouchable."

She rolled her eyes, her smile growing wider. "I'm not saying Eminem's verse isn't good, but Wayne's verse just hits different," she said, taking a sip of her drink, feeling the cool liquid wash down her throat.

"Eminem's verse was so good, Kanye rewrote his verse after hearing Em's. That's gotta say something," Joe countered, his eyes sparkling with the same passion she had for her argument. She laughed, subconsciously taking a step closer to him, enjoying the debate more than she'd enjoyed any non-academic conversation with a man in a long time. She took a deep breath, the scent of Joe's cologne—something clean and masculine—mingling with the faint lingering aroma of pizza and the heavy scent of alcohol.

Her hand brushed against his bicep as she leaned in to make her next point, feeling the heat of his body even through the fabric of her own clingy top. "But Wayne's was so well written, had the better flow, his personality shines through. You can't just ignore that," she argued, her eyes meeting his.

Joe took a step closer, his voice dropping an octave. "Okay, okay, I'll give you that. It's a close call, but for me, Eminem takes the cake," he conceded, his smirk growing. The room spun slightly around her as she took another sip of her drink, her eyes lingering on his full lips.

"Why aren't you drinking with me?" She asked him, half whining. She swayed to the music slightly, the alcohol loosening her inhibitions, making her more flirtatious than she normally allowed herself to be. His eyes searched hers, the playfulness in her gaze clear.

Joe took a step back, holding his cup of ice water up as a defense. "I gotta drive back to Columbus tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Can't be drunk driving. You know how it is."

"Hmmm," she hummed with a nod. "NFL superstar… right. Image comes first," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "But what if you didn't have to drive?" she asked. She leaned in closer, her breath warm and sweet, hinting at the stolen sips of some vodka lemonade mix she'd gone back to throughout the night.

Joe looked down at her, his expression unreadable. "If I didn't drive…" he began, the challenge in his eyes unmistakable. "Where would I crash?"

She felt the heat rising in her face but held his gaze, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Well, I have a perfectly good couch. Or, if you play your cards right, get lucky, you could crash with me." She bit her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering shut as she leaned into him. "I'm really warm," she continued. "And cuddly."

Joe's laugh was low and deep, sending a thrill down her spine. "Is that right?" His gaze swept over her, lingering on her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. "I don't think I should." He shifted his position, the fabric of his shirt brushing against her bare arms. The coolness of the wall settled against her back as he stepped closer, a muscled arm reaching around her to place his drink on the windowsill beside her. "But maybe I could use a good cuddle," he teased. Instead of retreating to his side, his hand found her waist, his thumb brushing gently against the exposed skin of her midriff.

She felt a shiver of excitement. "Maybe," she echoed, her voice barely audible over the music. She leaned into his touch, her eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation.

The room was spinning, but she wasn't sure if it was from the drinks or Joe's pull. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool, but her heart was racing. His lips twitched with a hint of a smile. "Why would you want me to stay in the first place?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek.

"Just because," she replied, her voice playful but laced with a hint of desire. She couldn't help the sigh that left her lips at the feeling of his skin on hers, her eyes dropping to his mouth before returning to his eyes.

"That's not a good reason," he hummed lowly, his hand sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. The room was a blur of colors and sounds, and she could feel the bass from the music pounding in her chest. His touch was surprisingly gentle despite the strength of his arms. "Which is a shame, because I'd love to stay."

Her breath hitched as Joe leaned in closer, his voice a warm caress against her ear. "I should go," he said, his hand dropping from her waist, his grip loosening. She felt a sudden coolness where his touch had been, and she realized she'd been holding her breath, waiting for his next move.

"Wait," she said, a hint of desperation in her voice as she reached out to stop him. Her hand found his bicep, feeling the firmness of his muscles under the softness of his skin. "Gimme your phone."

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "My phone? Why?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You know why," she replied, a gentle laugh bubbling up from her chest. She held out her hand, palm up, expecting him to just hand it over.

Joe looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "No, I don't think I do. You wanna tell me?" His voice was teasing, but there was an underlying seriousness that made her heart race even faster.

"So I can get a better look at you," she murmured, her eyes tracing the strong line of his jaw. She knew she was being brazen, but the alcohol had loosened her inhibitions and the way he looked at her made her feel invincible. "When I'm sober."

Joe chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her with a playful eye roll. "Fine, but only if I get yours too," he said, holding out his hand expectantly.

She grinned, handing over her own phone. "Fair trade," she murmured, watching as he took her device in his hands, making her phone look miniscule in his grasp. His thumbs danced over the screen with dexterity, and she couldn't help but wonder how those same fingers might feel on her skin.

"Okay," he said, handing it back. "Now I have your number. What's the plan?"

She mirrored his actions, their devices safely storing one another's numbers. She felt a strange mix of excitement and apprehension as she took in the sight of the new contact in her phone. "No plan," she started, her eyes meeting his once more. "Just… maybe we could go out sometime?" The words slipping out before she could overthink them.

Joe looked at her, his blue eyes piercing through the haze of the party. He took a moment before nodding, his expression unreadable. "Maybe we could," he agreed, his voice low and heavy.

They stood in simmering tension, their eyes locked, for just a moment longer. Then, Joe took a step back, pocketing his phone. "I should get going," he said, his voice a touch rougher than it had been earlier. "But I'll call you?"

She nodded. "You better," she replied, trying to sound cool. "Drive safe. I'm expecting a text when you get to Columbus," her voice shook slightly as she felt herself drawn into a hug, his arms wrapping around her in a gentle embrace. The warmth of his body was intoxicating, and she felt a jolt of electricity run through her as he leaned in and whispered into her ear, "See you soon."

I should've done it.

The text from Joe had lingered in her thoughts all week, a silent drumroll of anticipation in her mind. His admission that he should've done it, should've kissed her, had set her heart racing every time she read it. And now, here she was, in his kitchen, surrounded by the sweet aroma of pumpkin spice and the quiet hum of his oven preheating in the background. The room felt electrified as they baked together, a dance of open stares and stolen smiles, each waiting for the right moment to make their move.

"When it says fold in the cream cheese…" Joe began, his voice trailing off as his eyes darted from his iPad to her side profile. Her hands were busy, scooping the pumpkin mixture into white paper liners. His spatula hovered in the air, a dollop of cream cheese frosting threatening to drop onto the counter as a result of his hesitation.

"I thought you said you've done this before," she teased, briefly looking over to find his eyebrows scrunched together, his tongue darting over those pink lips she'd been dying to feel against hers.

Joe rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I have. It's just… this recipe is worded weird." His biceps flexed as he worked the spatula through the sugary mixture. With the cupcakes safely tucked into the oven, she stepped closer, peering at the screen over his shoulder, their bodies almost touching.

"It looks simple enough," she said, her voice suddenly dropping to a whisper, her eyes darting from the recipe to Joe's.

"You're laughing at me," Joe accused, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk. The prettiest splash of pink appeared on his cheeks.

She shook her head, pursing her lips together to hold back her laugh. "I'm not," she lied, attempting to avoid his eyes. "I swear I'm not."

"Well, if you're so confident, you do it." Joe stepped aside, offering her the spatula and the bowl of frosting. She took the challenge, shaking her head as laughter finally spilled from her lips. She dipped the spatula into the bowl, motioning for Joe to sift the powdered sugar as she folded the creamy goodness in on itself. The cool metal of the mixing bowl felt good against her fingertips, a welcoming reprieve from the heat that seemed to pulse through her every time she caught Joe's gaze.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching her intently. She felt his eyes on her, and she couldn't help but feel self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Okay, hold the bag open. I'm gonna scoop the frosting in," she instructed, trying to keep her head clear of the looming kiss she knew was on the horizon. It was almost nausea inducing, the anticipation of finally feeling him close to her, tasting the sweetness of his lips for the first time.

The plastic crinkled in her hands as Joe took the spatula from her, scooping a generous amount of frosting into the bag. She held her breath, feeling the warmth of his body so close, the scent of him—a blend of clean laundry and the faint hint of his cologne—surrounding her. She watched his strong hands manipulate the bag, pushing the frosting into the piping tip with a gentle squeeze.

"I gotta wash my hands," she muttered under her breath, turning towards the opposite counter to hide her anxiousness. She hadn't been this nervous in years, not since her first kiss ever back in high school. The kitchen tap's cool water brought her back to reality, and she took a deep, steadying breath. When she turned back, Joe's back was to her, his tall frame silhouetted against the kitchen window, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the scene.

Confusion melted into amusement as she watched him turn to face her, a spoon dipped into the bowl. He scraped at the leftover frosting, the silver utensil shining in the soft light. "Joe," she said with a laugh, "What are you doing?"

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that signature smirk that she had grown to adore. "Taste test." The spoon dipped into his mouth, and her heart skipped a beat as she watched his eyes close, savoring the flavor. "It's good," he murmured, opening his eyes to find hers locked on him. He dipped the spoon into the frosting again, offering it out to her. "You want to make sure we're not serving subpar dessert, right?"

Her stomach flipped, but she stepped closer, accepting the spoon with a nod. The creaminess of the frosting coated her tongue, the duality of the tang and sweet a delicious symphony in her mouth. She swallowed and nodded. "It's good. But I think I need another taste."

Joe's grin grew wider, his blue eyes sparkling in the light of the setting sun. "I figured you might," he said, scooping up more frosting. This time, when he offered it to her, she leaned in, closing the gap between them. The tip of her nose brushed against his, and she felt his breath warm against her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she waited for him to bring the spoon to her mouth.

But instead, he held it just out of reach. "What are you doing?" she murmured, a hint of laughter in her voice.

He didn't answer, simply hovering the spoon there. She could feel the tension building, a palpable force that made her lean in even further, her chest brushing against his. His eyes searched hers, looking for a sign, a silent question that she was ready to answer. And she was, more than she had ever been. Impatience bubbled up within her. She moved for the bowl, removing it from his grasp before she reached up, placing her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet her.

Their kiss was tentative at first, a gentle brush of their lips that sent a jolt of electricity through her. She felt his hand, now rid of the spoon, come up to cup her face, his thumb stroking the soft skin there as their mouths opened slightly. The sweetness of the frosting mingled with the taste of him, a heavenly combination that she hadn't anticipated.

His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer, making her feel as if she were melting into him. Her hand slid from the nape of his neck into his hair, the soft golden strands mingling between her fingers. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as if the weeks of unspoken tension were demanding their due. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, a beat that matched her own. The room around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in a warm, sugary bubble of newfound intimacy.

As they parted, breathless, Joe whispered against her lips, "I've been wanting to do that since the moment we met." Her heart swelled with joy, her pulse racing in her ears. She finally opened her eyes to meet his gaze. "Me too," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her knees felt weak, grateful for his arms still holding her close. She searched Joe's eyes, finding the same wonder reflected in the blue pools that had captured her from the start. They remained like that, frozen in the sweet moment, until the timer on the oven beeped, jolting them back to reality.

"Looks like our cupcakes are ready," Joe murmured, his voice low. He made no attempt to separate from her. The bite of his bottom lip and the flicker of his eyes to her lips saying everything he couldn't put into words.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as she nodded, her hand still tangled in his hair. "We should check on them," she said, her voice unsteady.

Joe leaned in and kissed her again, this time with more confidence, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pressing her even closer. When they finally pulled away, she could see the hunger in his gaze, the desire that mirrored her own. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Cupcakes."

Joe was due to arrive any minute, and she couldn't help but feel a little nervous as she chewed at her bottom lip. Leah looked over from the open bathroom door, her grin widening as she saw her fidgeting. "You're so down bad for him," she teased, swiping a brush through her straight hair. "It's cute."

"I'm not down bad," she shot back, trying to keep her voice light as she straightened up from her laptop. "Just… excited for a chill night, you know?"

Leah stepped out of the bathroom. "Uh-huh, sure. Chill like Netflix and Chill?" She winked at her best friend, who rolled her eyes playfully. Just then, the doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the apartment. "And cue Mr. Ohio," Leah announced sarcastically.

Her heart skipped a beat as she walked over to the door. She took a deep breath, composing herself before swinging it open to reveal Joe, his tall frame filling the doorway. "Hi," she breathed out, trying not to sound too eager.

Joe looked her over with a smile, his eyes crinkling familiarly at the sight of her. He stepped in, his backpack sliding off his shoulder to thump onto the floor. Her eyes trailed over his tight, athletic body, and she felt a rush of heat to her face. He leaned in for a kiss, his lips pressing against hers gently before pulling away. "Where's Leah?"

Leah sauntered out of their bathroom, a wide smile on her face. "I'm about to leave for my family dinner. I'm honored you would ask, Joe," she said with a wink.

"I wasn't asking to be nice," Joe said, his sarcasm thick as he stepped aside for her to lock the door. "Usually I can hear you before I see you."

Leah chuckled before walking over to the couch, picking up her purse. "With ears like those, I'm sure you do, Burrow."

She curled into his side, breathing in his scent as she watched the two of them go back and forth. He was warm, the kind of warmth that seeped into her bones and made her feel safe. The kind she missed in his absence.

"Why don't you tell her to be nice to me?" Joe playfully complained, his hand soothing over her lower back as he pulled her closer.

Both she and Leah feigned identical offense. Even-toned gasps circling him from the two friends. "I like her just the way she is, Joseph," she said with a teasing squint of her eyes. "I'm already nice enough to you. She's here for balance, to keep you humble."

Leah giggled, reaching for her keys. "You got that right," she said, turning to Joe. "But I'll be out of your hair for the weekend. You two can do all the 'balancing' you want." With a knowing wink, she leaned over to press a chaste kiss to her cheek, a challenging glint in her eyes as she whispered, "Don't break him. He's expensive."

She laughed out loud, hugging her best friend tightly before she left. The moment the door clicked shut behind Leah, the air in the room shifted. The playful banter evaporated into a heavy silence filled with unspoken desires. She turned to Joe, her heart racing, and found him watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I was gonna order some food," she said, breaking the silence as she leaned up to kiss Joe again. He tasted faintly of mint, his stubble delightfully rough against her cheek.

"Sounds good," Joe murmured against her mouth, his hands slipping under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin against his palms. "I can put my bags away while you order."

She nodded, pulling away to lead him to her bedroom. "What do you feel like eating?" she asked, her legs crossing as she sat on the bed, focusing on the Uber Eats app. The room was bathed in soft light from the floor lamp, the scent of her favorite candle, vanilla and coconut, filling the space.

Joe set his bag down and began unpacking, his eyes lingering on the way her thighs looked bare and exposed against the plush comforter adorning her bed. "Whatever you want," he said distractedly, his words short with desire.

She took the opportunity to watch him as he pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing the tight muscles of his stomach. The white t-shirt he wore underneath was snug, showing off the curves of his biceps. She couldn't help but let her gaze linger on his broad chest, the fabric stretching over the muscle there. She couldn't tell how long she had been staring for when he turned to her with a knowing smile.

"You good?" Joe asked, his eyes meeting hers, a smirk playing on his lips.

She nodded. "Yeah," she managed to say, her voice a little weaker. "Just… deciding."

His eyes focused on hers as he stepped closer to the bed. "Deciding?" He echoed her, his voice low and gravelly with need. "On food or…?"

She felt the heat of his body as he leaned over her, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck. "Or?" she murmured, her hand reaching out to trace the line of his jaw.

He didn't answer. Instead, his mouth found hers in a kiss that was anything but chaste. His hand found its familiar place, his tongue dancing with hers, tasting like the mint of his gum. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she let out a sigh, feeling Joe's hands roaming her body, laying her back against the bed. The heat of his touch was like a brand, searing into her skin, leaving her desperate for more.

The solid wall of his chest pressed against hers as Joe's hand slid up the length of her thigh, delicately squeezing the soft skin under his palm. She gasped into his mouth, her hand reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss grew more urgent, his tongue delving deeper into her mouth, exploring and claiming every inch. His other hand found the hem of her shirt, slowly pushing it upward until it was discarded on the floor.

His head dipped to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she sighed, his touch sending delight down her spine. She felt the brush of his fingertips as he brushed over her bra, and the cool air hit her newly exposed skin. His thumbs traced the edge of the lace before his palms cupped her. She arched her back, pushing herself into his touch, a soft whine escaping her lips.

Joe's eyes were dark with lust as he broke the kiss, looking down at her. Her breath hitched, her thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settled between her legs. He kissed her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone before moving to her chest, his mouth finding one of her nipples. He teased it with his tongue, swirling around the sensitive nub before sucking hard, eliciting a moan from her. She ground down on his thigh, her core pulsing with need.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. "I can feel how bad you want it," he murmured, his hand sliding down her stomach to pull at her shorts. She nodded, unable to form coherent words as his fingers danced over the fabric. Her hands shook as they pulled at the hem of his white shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin.

She sat up, moving to straddle him, and pulled his shirt over his head. The sight of him, all muscle and summer-tanned skin, took her breath away. She ran her hands over the expanse of his chest, her nails scraping gently against his skin, watching as his pupils dilated and his breath hitched. She leaned down, kissing a line from his collarbone, up the column of his throat, to his lips again. The tip of his cock nudged her through his shorts, and she could feel him twitch beneath her.

They kissed with an urgency that had been building for weeks, their breaths mingling as they explored each other's mouths. "What kind of condoms do you prefer?" She asked between kisses. "Durex, Trojan, Skyn?" Her voice faltered as his hands traveled down to cup her ass, his fingers digging into her flesh. "I have a few sizes, just in case." Her back arched into him, a silent admission of his effect on her.

He rolled his hips against hers, his hands sliding down to her thighs, pushing her shorts down her legs. "Magnum?" she murmured against his lips, unable to hide the laugh in her voice.

Joe smirked. "Is that what you think?"

She shrugged, her voice thick with lust. "I like to be prepared."

Joe chuckled, the sound vibrating against her skin. "You're something else, you know that?" He leaned back on his elbows, his abdomen contracting with the movement.

She reached over the side of the bed, her hand rummaging in the drawer of the nightstand. She pulled out a single condom, the gold wrapper glinting in the soft light. "Take your shorts off," she whispered as she sank down the bed. Her eyes held his gaze, her hands smoothing over his skin as he complied. The bulge in his boxers grew, and she licked her lips in anticipation. He groaned out as she kissed down his stomach, her mouth hovering just above the waistband of his boxers.

With a bite of her bottom lip, she tugged the condom from its wrapper. She took him in hand, stroking him gently before rolling the condom down his shaft. His cock was thick and hard, the latex stretching over his length. He watched her, his eyes dark with passion, as she straddled him again.

"God, c'mere," he growled, his voice thick with need. She complied, moving over him, her breasts brushing against his chest, the friction making them both gasp. He reached up to cup her face, his thumbs caressing her cheekbones as he kissed her hard, his tongue sliding against hers, tasting her. She could feel his length, the head of his cock nudging at her, begging for more.

Joe shifted their position with ease, his hands firm on her hips as he flipped her onto her back. He kissed her with a fierce hunger, his tongue plunging deep, as if he was trying to devour her whole. His fingers found her center, stroking it gently, and she gasped, her legs spreading wider to give him better access. The anticipation was driving her crazy, her body thrumming with need.

With a wicked grin, Joe reached for the lube she had left on the nightstand, flicking the cap open with a practiced ease. He slicked his fingers, watching her reaction as he slid one inside her. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as he moved it in and out, stretching her. She felt the blunt tip of his cock press against her, and she took a deep, shaky breath, ready for the moment she had been fantasizing about for so long.

"I need you," she murmured, her voice a desperate whisper against his lips. He leaned back, pulling at the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs. He took his time, the intensity of his gaze making her squirm with excitement. With one final tug, they were gone, leaving her bottom half fully exposed to him.

Joe took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, his eyes raking over her body with a hunger that made her feel powerful. He lined himself up with her opening, his cock nudging against her folds. She reached down, her hand guiding him in, feeling the tip of his cock push against her wetness.

He groaned, his eyes closing tight as he sank into her, inch by delicious inch. The pressure was incredible, stretching her in a way that made her toes curl. "Oh, fuck," she whispered, her head falling back against the pillow.

She felt filled to the brim with Joe, his cock pushing into her, filling her up, the sensation overwhelming. She tightened her grip on the bedspread, her eyes locked on his as he watched her face contort with pleasure. He took his time, savoring the moment, his movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes fluttered closed, her hips rising to meet his, urging him deeper.

When he was fully sheathed in her, Joe paused, his muscles tense with restraint. "You okay?" he asked, his voice strained.

She nodded, her eyes still closed, her breathing ragged. "More than okay," she replied, her voice a low purr. "Just… don't stop."

Joe leaned in to kiss her again, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that made her moan. Each stroke was long and deep, filling her completely before pulling almost all the way out, leaving her gasping for more. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their muffled groans and sighs.

"Talk to me, baby, tell me how it feels," Joe murmured into her ear, his breath hot against her neck as he began to pick up the pace. His hand roamed over her thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist as he pushed into her harder.

"So good," she managed to gasp out, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. The intensity in his gaze sent waves of pleasure through her. "Joe, oh, Joe…"

He took her words as an encouragement, his pace increasing, his strokes growing more forceful. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet him, urging him deeper.

Their kisses grew sloppier, more desperate, as their bodies moved in tandem. The slick sound of Joe's skin smacking against hers grew louder, mixing with the quiet whimpers escaping from her throat. She could feel her orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her belly.

"Need your hands, Joey," she breathed out, her voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. She was so close, so fucking close, and Joe's cock was hitting all the right spots, but she needed more. She needed his touch on her clit, the sweet friction that would send her soaring over the edge.

Joe's eyes widened, his own need reflecting back at her, and he nodded. He reached down, his hand sliding over her stomach to the juncture of her thighs. His middle and ring fingers found her clit, the touch sending an electric current through her body. She arched up, her mouth opening in a silent cry as he began to rub in gentle circles.

"Mmhmm, like that," she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as Joe's skilled fingers worked her clit. The pleasure was building, each stroke pushing her closer to the precipice. Her body was tightening around him, her muscles clenching as she neared the peak. "Fuck, Joe, I'm so close."

Joe's breath was hot and heavy against her neck as he whispered, "Come for me, baby." His thrusts grew more urgent, his strokes inside her deep and sure. The pressure on her clit increased, the circles tighter, and she could feel the orgasm begin to crash over her.

"Oh god," she moaned, her hips bucking up to meet him, her muscles clenching around his cock. The waves of pleasure crashed into her, her body convulsing as she came hard. Joe's grip on her thigh tightened as she shuddered beneath him, pushing him over the edge.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, his breaths hot and uneven as he pumped into her, her orgasm milking him until he couldn't hold back anymore. With a final groan, Joe's body went rigid, his hips stuttering as he filled the condom with his release.

She felt the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through her body as Joe collapsed onto her, his weight a comforting warmth. They laid there for a moment, panting, their hearts racing in sync. "So good," she murmured against his ear, her hands stroking his back, feeling the dampness of his skin.

He kissed the side of her neck, his breathing gradually evening out. "You're fuckin' amazing," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Joe dreaded bye weeks. They were supposed to be a time to relax and recover from the grind of the NFL season, but they usually just left him feeling restless and out of place. He thrived on routine, and without practice or games to structure his days, he usually found himself aimlessly bored; itching to get back to the field.

This season’s bye week was different. For once, Joe had something to look forward to other than endless hours of film study and tedious brand meetings. He’d be spending it with her.

The drive from Cincinnati to Cleveland had been surprisingly therapeutic, the rolling hills and the changing colors of fall providing a picturesque backdrop to Joe's thoughts. He couldn't wait to see her, to bask in the warmth of her presence that always seemed to wash away the stress of his football-centered life. When he finally pulled into the apartment complex, he was beyond restless. A week of almost uninterrupted time together was a rare treat, and he had every intention of making the most of it.

It took all of one day for the two of them to slip into a good rhythm. The mornings were filled with the scent of brewing coffee and the hum of her getting ready for work at the hospital. Joe would linger in bed, watching her through half-closed eyes, admiring the way she moved with purpose and grace. He would attempt to convince her to stay home, to no avail, and eventually drag himself out of bed to drive her and Leah to the hospital for their shifts.

The rest of the daylight was his, to conquer the tasks he'd brought from Cincinnati, get a workout or two in at a local private gym, or explore the city on his own.

By the time the sun set, he was driving back to the hospital, eager to pick her up and hear about her day. Dinner plans involved the PDF meal prep instructions she insisted that he send over from his personal chef. Cooking with her was oddly relaxing, despite his usual preference for takeout or having someone else handle the kitchen. She took the lead, allowing him to chop and prep under her direction. The occasional touch of her hand on his, guiding him, or the way she would laugh at his insistence to follow a recipe-to-T filled him with a longing to feel this way more often.

At night, she would attempt to get some studying in while Joe answered his emails, warm, full, and happy. The need for sleep would overtake him before her, and he'd end up sprawled across the bed. His head resting snuggly against her sternum, her free hand softly scratching at his scalp. The sound of his deep, contented breaths soon lulling her to sleep as well.

This morning played out as it typically did. Joe was up early, making himself useful, brewing coffee and assembling her lunch box, while she slipped into her scrubs, packing her bag for the day, and applying touches of makeup here and there. The apartment was bathed in the soft glow of dawn, the air filled with the scent of freshly brewed beans and the distant sound of the city coming alive.

"You know what we need?" She said, zipping up her bag on the couch. "A real coffee table."

Leah hummed out her agreement from the kitchen, where she was busy packing her lunch. "Definitely," she chimed in. Their "coffee table" was a stack of medical school textbooks balancing a metal tray courtesy of the UH Cleveland Medical Center cafeteria. It was functional but not exactly a real piece of furniture.

"I could get you one from Ikea," Joe said, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of a mission. "I've got the day to myself. Might as well do something useful."

Her eyes widened. "Babe, no. I can't ask you to do that. You're here to relax."

"Are you really refusing free labor?" Leah called out from the kitchen, a laugh in her voice. "When are we gonna have a chance to get one? If we’re not at the hospital, we’re studying or volunteering. Joe’s not doing much except for a couple of workouts and emails today anyway, right, Joe?"

Joe nodded faithfully, an overgrown curl bouncing with the movement. "Yeah, I've got nothing but time. You guys pick a table out and I’ll go get it."

She looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smile she couldn’t quite hold back. "You do know that the nearest Ikea is in Columbus, right?"

Joe shrugged, handing her the packed lunch box with a kiss to her forehead. "It’s only two hours away, babe." Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, he added, "Let me do this for you. I really don’t mind."

Relenting with a sigh, she opened her laptop and navigated to the Ikea website. She clicked through the pages of sleek designs and minimalist furniture as Leah hovered over her shoulder. They settled on a simple table that they both thought would complement their living room.

"Alright," Joe said, clapping his hands together. "I'll drop you guys off and head down to Columbus. Send me the name of the table."

She rattled off the name and specifications of the coffee table they had chosen, and Joe typed them into his phone.

The day passed in a blur of activity and quiet moments. She and Leah accompanied their attendings on rounds and completed their first-year gruntwork. Meanwhile, Joe embarked on his solo trip to Columbus, reporting on his success to her through a series of photos and texts. By the time he arrived back in Cleveland, the sun was setting, painting the sky with oranges and pinks.

Her shift was almost over when she received a text from Joe.

Just got off the highway. Be there soon.

She couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of the surprise waiting for her. She and Leah had spent the day trying not to think about the coffee table, focusing on their patients and notes, but the anticipation had been bubbling beneath the surface all day.

When Joe finally pulled into the apartment complex, the car's headlights bouncing off the pavement, she and Leah exited first. They watched him unload the flat-packed furniture with surprising ease, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he maneuvered the heavy box. Leah nudged her best friend, whispering, "You’re drooling.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the warmth spreading through her chest. She loved Joe's willingness to go the extra mile, especially when it came to making her little apartment feel more like a home.

They brought the box into the living room and spread the contents onto the floor. Almost immediately, his eyes sharpened in focused intensity as he studied the instructions. She sat down on the floor with him, sipping a cup of tea, watching his concentration.

"Okay, so the first thing we need to do is assemble the legs," Joe said, holding up a bundle of wooden pieces.

She leaned over, her eyes scanning the instructions. "Are you sure? It looks like we should start with the tabletop."

“Babe," Joe said, pointing to a diagram. "It says legs first."

"But that doesn’t make sense," she protested, her finger hovering over a different step. "The legs won’t even stand without the base."

Joe raised an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in his gaze. "Baby, trust me. I've put together Ikea furniture before."

"Your janky ass is gonna mess up my future coffee table if you keep going off-book," she teased, swiping the instructions from his hand.

Joe grinned, not at all deterred. "You love it when I improvise."

Their playful banter grew more intense as they worked, each insisting they knew better. The instructions lay forgotten between them, as they tried to piece the table together through sheer force of will.

"Burrow, please don’t fuck this up," she said, trying to keep a straight face as Joe held a wooden peg between his teeth, his hands occupied by trying to align the legs.

"I know what I’m doing," he shot back, his voice muffled by the mouthful of furniture.

She ignored him, squinting at the instructions she had rescued. "It says, 'insert peg A into slot B, then secure with screw C.'"

"I've got pegs and slots," Joe said, holding up two wooden pieces. "But where's screw C?"

She looked down at the instructions again. "It's right here." She reached for a tiny screw in a sea of plastic bags, her hand lifting to remove the wooden peg from between his teeth with a chuckle. "Here."

Joe took the screw with a grin, forgetting about the headache of the furniture for a moment. The words, "God, I love your bossy ass," slipped from his lips before he could catch them.

Her eyes snapped up to his, surprise and delight swirling in her gaze. Without a moment’s worth of hesitation, she replied, "I love your stubborn ass."

The room grew quiet, the tension palpable. They stared at each other, the weight of their words hanging in the air. The warmth of the moment washed over Joe, a feeling he hadn’t anticipated feeling so deeply. He felt his heart swell with affection, his chest tightening as the reality of what they’d just confessed hit him.

She cupped the side of his face, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip, leaving a gentle caress. "You really do, huh?" He asked, pupils dilating slightly as his eyes searched hers.

"Yeah," she said, voice soft. "I really do."

The air grew thick with unspoken words and unexplored feelings. Joe set the screw down and took her hand, pulling her closer until she was straddling his lap, the coffee table pieces forgotten around them. Her arms settled over his shoulders, fingers finding the softness of his hair. He caressed her waist, pulling her into him. The kiss was tender, a gentle acknowledgment of the love that had been simmering between them for months.

"Say it again," he whispered against her lips, his voice soft with wonder.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I love you, Joe Burrow."

Joe's eyes searched hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. "And I love you."

"You guys just managed to squeak out a win tonight. I know Joe has emphasized having, quote: 'no room for excuses' all season. But there isn't much time to dwell on the mistakes when you're in the middle of a playoffs run. So, how will you make sure that he stays focused on the next game, instead of dwelling on the imperfections of this one?" The reporter's voice was sharp, cutting through the buzz of the press room as Zac Taylor took a sip of his water.

Zac leaned into the podium, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Well, you know, Joe's a perfectionist. That's what makes him so great at what he does. But I'm not too worried about his focus, he knows better than anyone what's at stake. His girlfriend will be in town the next few days. I'm sure she'll keep him grounded."

The room went silent for a beat, and then the air was ablaze with the clicking of keyboards and murmurs of surprise. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the livestream on her phone, her hand tightening around it. She was sitting in the back of her Uber, her eyes darting up to the driver who chuckled at the head coach's words. "Grounded? Busy's more like it," the middle-aged man commented. When she asked him if it was alright to listen to the post-game press conferences, he had been more than enthusiastic. Now, she wished she had just waited until she was in the comfort of Joe's home.

Her phone buzzed with notifications, and she knew that the dam had broken. She had seen it before with other athletes and their significant others, the sudden rush of interest that could either elevate or destroy reputations. It was the price of his fame, but she hadn't been prepared for it to be her reality. Not like this. The Uber pulled up to the house, and she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself before walking through the door.

Joe's brother, Dan, was the first to reach out to her from his family. "Well, looks like the cat's out of the bag," his text read, followed by a series of laughing emojis and a screen recording of Zac's slip-up. She couldn't help but chuckle despite her nerves. She replied with a simple "Yeah, guess so."

As she stepped out of the car, she saw Joe's text light up her screen. "Zac sends his apologies. You okay?" He was always considerate, even in the midst of his own chaos. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "Yeah, tell him thanks a lot." Her thumb hovered over the screen for a beat before he read her mind, "We'll talk when I get home. Don't worry about it."

Joe arrived just as his parents came through the front door. Jimmy and Robin were similarly in town for the game, but their presence was less newsworthy than hers. The four of them greeted each other with the kind of relief that comes after a nail-biter of a match. Inside, the living room was a warm cocoon of familiarity, a stark contrast to the impersonal press room where the Bengals' PR team was forced to shut down any attempts at confirming Joe's relationship status, per his request.

"Cat's outta the bag, kid," Jimmy laughed deeply, a comforting side hug enveloping her. "You're a champ, though. You two'll handle it."

"I'm sure Joe already has a million and one solutions for handling this," Robin said with a knowing smile, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "But if you need anything, anything at all, just let us know."

She managed a smile, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. "Thanks, I'll be okay," she replied, her voice sounding more assured than she felt.

After his parents left for their room, Joe turned to her with a concerned expression. "I'm sorry, I know we both wanted to keep this private for as long as we could." His voice was gentle, the blue eyes she had come to love looking into hers for reassurance. Her arms wrapped around his waist, hands gently rubbing his back as she leaned her head against his chest.

"It's okay," she murmured, taking a deep breath in of his scent. "It had to come out eventually."

Joe sighed, stroking over her hair. "I just don't want it to mess with your career. Or your peace of mind." He gathered his thoughts for a moment before speaking up again. "I signed up for this life, not you. It's not fair to throw you into this mess."

She pulled away slightly, looking up at him. "I know what I'm signing up for, Joe. We've talked about this." She paused. "As long as you're okay with it, and we can keep some parts of us just for us, I think I can handle it."

Joe nodded, his gaze searching hers. "You're sure?"

She took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm sure."

The moment showed itself weeks later in Kansas City. She was a nervous wreck, the Arrowhead stands were a sea of red and black, the Chiefs' colors, but there was a noticeable splatter of Bengals' orange and black jerseys. Amongst them, she stood out in her Burrow jersey, her hair in loose waves that fell over her shoulders, her makeup intentionally flawless.

Her heart hammered in her chest as the national anthem played, a mix of excitement and dread swirling in her gut. This was it. The hard launch. She'd been preparing for this moment since Joe had asked her to be with him at the game. He'd been adamant that she be part of the victory, should they win.

When the confetti came floating down from the sky, signaling the Bengals' victory, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. The game had been a nail-biter, and she had been on the edge of her seat for the entire four quarters. The families of the players were being ushered down to the field, and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come.

She spotted Joe, surrounded by his teammates, a look of pure elation etched on his face. He saw her and broke away from the celebration, his stride long and purposeful as he approached her. She couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on them, even as the cameras were still swarming the players and coaches.

She stepped aside as he greeted his family first, the love and pride on their faces palpable even amidst the deafening roar of the stadium. Then his eyes focused on her. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering words of gratitude and love into her ear. The warmth of his body and the words spilling from his lips brought a smile to her face. This was their moment, the one she had agreed to share with him, despite the impending storm of media attention.

The cameras clicked and whirred, a cacophony of flashes piercing the air. She felt a tremor of fear as Joe leaned down to kiss her, his lips pressing gently against hers. It was a declaration, a public affirmation of their relationship, and she knew it would be the image plastered across social media in a few short minutes.

"Leah has another year of residency, right?" Joe asked through a mouthful of popcorn as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

She looked up from her laptop, where she was typing away at her Google Calendar. "Yeah, why?" she replied, curiosity lacing her voice.

"Has she started looking for a new roommate yet?" Joe's question was casual, but the way he chewed his popcorn betrayed a hint of nervousness.

She paused, a frown furrowing her brows. "Why would Leah be looking for a new roommate?" She knew him well enough to recognize when he was trying to ease into a conversation he didn't quite know how to start.

Joe swallowed hard. "Well, I just figured, you know, with your residency ending soon, you'd be moving in with me."

She stared at him, the silence in the room thickening like the humidity before a storm. "Moving in with you?" she echoed, her voice a mix of surprise and confusion. "Joe, we've never talked about that."

Joe looked taken aback, his hand pausing mid-air with a piece of popcorn. "You mean, you didn't… I just assumed, with us being in a serious relationship and all…" His voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.

She felt a twinge of annoyance. "Joe, assuming is not the same as asking," she said firmly, closing her laptop. She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know I have connections in Cleveland. It's where I planned on starting my career after my residency."

Joe's eyes widened, his grip on the popcorn bowl tightening. "You never mentioned that," he said, his voice low and defensive.

"Because you never asked," she laughed incredulously, shaking her head. "You can't just assume I'll drop everything and move in with you. I have a life and a career, too."

Joe's face fell, the weight of her words sinking in. "I didn't mean it like that, babe," he said, setting the bowl down and approaching her. "I just thought, with us being together…"

She raised a hand to stop him. "You thought, you assumed. That's not how this works, Joe," she said, her voice steady. "We need to communicate, especially about big decisions like this." She took a deep breath, trying to keep the frustration from bubbling over.

Joe's shoulders rose with tension. "Well, I'm asking now," he said, his voice tight. "Move in with me."

She sighed, her eyes searching his. "Joey, It's not that simple," she replied, her voice softer. "I've worked hard for this. I have plans, honey. I don't want to just uproot everything because you expect me to follow you around."

"Follow me around? Babe, I don't expect that," Joe said, his voice rising slightly. "I just thought we could be together more, especially since you're going to be done with your crazy hours at the hospital. You could focus on studying for your Boards without worrying about rent and all that."

Her eyes narrowed. "I can handle paying rent, Joe," she said, her voice even. "I don't need you to take care of me. That's not what I want out of this."

Joe took a step back, his expression a mix of surprise and hurt. "I never said you couldn't handle it," he retorted. "I just thought it would be easier for you."

She felt the tension in the room thicken, the air charged with unspoken words. "Easier for me, or easier for you?" she asked, her voice measured.

Joe's eyes searched hers, trying to gauge her emotions. "What does that mean? You think I want you to be dependent on me?"

Her voice remained calm. "I don't know. Do you?"

"No? Why would I want you to be dependent on me?" Joe said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I just want us to be together, babe. We've been together for almost three years. I thought we were on the same page."

She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their words. "Joe," she sighed, touching his arm. "I love you, but my career is important to me. I can't just leave it all behind because it's more convenient for you."

Joe's gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders slumping. "I know," he mumbled. "It's just that… I don't know, I guess I've been thinking about it for a while. When I'm on the road, all I want is for you to be there, waiting for me in our home. It's selfish, I know. But it's hard being apart like this."

Her heart softened at the vulnerability in his voice. She stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his cheek. "Joey," she said gently. "Why didn't you just open with that?"

Joe looked up, his eyes searching hers. "I didn't know how to," he admitted. "It's just, you're all I think about. I just want to come home to you every night."

She felt a pang of guilt. "Joe," she said softly, "I feel the same way, but that doesn't mean we should rush into something this big."

"Then, what do you need from me?" Joe asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a moment to gather her thoughts before responding. "I need you to understand that this is my career we're talking about. I've spent years working up to this moment," she said, her thumb gently brushing against his chin. "I don't want to lose the part of me that's worked so hard to get here."

Joe nodded slowly. "Okay."

She studied him, looking for any signs of anger or frustration, but all she saw was the raw, honest love that had brought them this far. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension in the room begin to ease. "I don't need you to fix everything," she whispered. "Don't try to pay off my loans or buy me a new car. I want us to build together, on equal terms."

Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Okay," he said again, his voice stronger this time. "I get it. I just… I don't want to lose you."

Her heart swelled with affection. "You won't, baby," she assured him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "Do you want to ask me again?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Joe took a deep breath, his eyes searching hers. "Will you move in with me?" he asked, his voice sincere.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest. She knew Joe was trying, really trying, to understand her perspective. She took a moment before responding. "I would love to."

#&. cassie writes.#&. joe x doctor!reader: fics.#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x black!reader

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p0orbaby · 7 months ago

Note

"Are you two..together?" Prompt with Leah!

Her tag needs some lovin' 🫶🫶

The question comes from a seven-year-old with sticky fingers and a dangerously unbalanced glass of orange squash. You’d been halfway through helping Leah’s aunt clear the dishes when she sidles up to you, her face scrunched in the kind of seriousness only small children can manage.

“Are you two… together?” she asks, her voice loud enough to cut through the chatter at the family barbecue.

The room quietens in a way that feels unnatural, like someone’s pressed mute on a remote. Leah, sitting at the kitchen island with a handful of cousins, freezes mid-sip of her drink. You look at her, then at the child, then at the glass of squash, which you are 90% sure is about to tip over onto your white trainers.

Leah clears her throat. “Define together”

You glare at her, already regretting letting her take the lead. She’s been smirking all afternoon, showing off during the garden football match and pretending not to hear her nan’s not-so-subtle comments about grandchildren. Now, the glint in her eye tells you she’s enjoying this far too much.

The kid frowns, considering. “Like… you kissed. We saw you”

“You saw us?” Leah says, leaning forward. There’s a playful lilt to her tone, but her ears are turning red.

“On the landing,” pipes up another cousin, this one about ten and clutching a half-eaten burger. “You thought no one saw, but we did”

You can feel the heat rising in your face, not helped by the way Leah’s trying—and failing—not to laugh.

“Well,” you say finally, crossing your arms. “What do you think?”

The seven-year-old narrows her eyes, scrutinising you like a tiny detective on the verge of cracking the case. “I think you are,” she says triumphantly. “Together, I mean. Because why else would you kiss?”

“Exactly,” chimes in the ten-year-old. “And you hold hands all the time. And Leah always looks at you like—” He pauses, attempting to mimic what you assume is some kind of lovesick expression. It’s not flattering.

The kitchen erupts into laughter. Leah’s older cousins are in hysterics, her mum is trying (and failing) to look disapproving, and even her nan has a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Leah, meanwhile, leans back against the counter, looking thoroughly amused. “Well, there you go,” she says to you, her arms crossing as she tilts her head. “They’ve cracked the mystery”

“Brilliant,” you mutter, though you can’t help but smile.

“Does this mean you’re getting married?” the seven-year-old asks suddenly, her wide eyes filled with the kind of hope that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Leah’s eyes meet yours, and for a brief second, the teasing disappears. There’s something soft there, something that makes your stomach flip in a way you’d never admit out loud.

“Maybe one day,” Leah says casually, reaching for your hand under the table.

The kids squeal in delight, and you know you’ll never hear the end of this. But as Leah squeezes your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, you think maybe you wouldn’t mind.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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itsthecline · 8 months ago

Text

the greatest chapter four

it girl!reader x drew starkey smau

summary what are the odds?

previous chapter

DREW STARKEY SENT YOU A MESSAGE

block delete accept

sorry about everyone ‘spawning’ in your comments

ahhhhhhahaha no it’s fine! ahaha

but it is because we’re all fans of you. if that helps!

ahh that’s so insane! thank you so much<3 me and

my friends LOVE outer banks:)

that means a lot. we love knowing people love

it as much as we do!

i swear me and kaylor talked about it all

the time if we could😭

maddie was the same way with love island😂

she got a bunch of us to watch it with her

good thing she did

hahaha! i luvvv her

how’s it being home now? you were there awhile

i missed my bed!

but i’m really surprised at how much support i have rn

yeah it definitely seemed like you felt alone in there

despite having leah, ree, and jana? yeah. i did lol

well you’re home now… what are you planning to do?

i have to be in nyc in two days to film😖

so that first, and then focus on my content

the reunion?

yeah we’re filming on the 14th soooo excited

jana has reciepts we been saving JUST for this

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

who are you ladies coming for?

haha yes i’ll be there for the whole week

jana got me and i got leah

so i’m coming for ethan’s funk ass

jana is going to call out andrea

pretty sure liv said she’s got my back on that too

yeah… that ethan guy sucks

i’ll be watching to see how you go about that one

oh! well let it be known i’m usually much more

graceful than i’m going to seem during the reunion

i’m sure you’ll handle yourself just fine

clocking ethan will actually possess my body…

u should be worried just a little bit

haha if somebody has to it should be you

maddie always loved when you got into it with him

he did my girl SO wrong how could i not😭

so did you watch it all back?

nay and i did whenever we got back!

we stayed at my house for the weekend and

binged it all, writing down the important

shit to bring up at the reunion

how was that process?

i can’t even watch myself act, so i can’t

imagine watching me go through what you did.

uhhhh ahaha yeah… it was rough

that’s why it took the whole weekend tbh

i bet it was difficult reliving everything

that on top of seeing my best friend’s from

a different pov definitely sucked ass

at least you’re home now! you can move on

that’s the plan. the show didn’t work for me, but it

turns out friendship island is much much better

yeah you seem to have found a good group

the best haha!

now it’s on to bigger n better

that’s the only way to go about it i think

read Sunday

yourusername posted a photo!

liked by korde1ll , madelyncline , drewstarkey and others

yourusername back in nyc with my best friend<3

tagged yourbestfriend

view all comments

username ahhhhh im so excited for the reunion!

↳ username PLEASEEEEE I NEED IT NOW

username so glad y/b/f was in charge of ur ig when you were in the villa she kept us feddddd

username my favorite og villa girlie

yourbestfriend and ur never leaving me again

↳ yourusername maybe if u came to boston more u wouldn’t hate it as much

username hate knowing that u n leah live on opposite sides of the country

drewstarkey hmmm

username city girl winninggg

username i can’t remember a time i wasn’t thinking about you 24/7 if i’m being honest

madelyncline 😍 prettiest girl ever

↳ yourusername actually crazy coming from u

username okay when did obx get here?

username i just knowwwwww u and jana are coming to the reunion with AMMO

↳ yourusername baby, we’re coming in correct i promiseee

username ok so r u like going to post a yt video now that ur home? been missing ur vlogs like crazy

↳ yourusername LMAO u clocked me🙂‍↕️ yes videos are coming soon i swear

username just a girl wishing to meet y/n

leahkateb c u tmrw bb

↳ yourusername crying from excitement tbh

oliviaa_walker okay so we’re getting dinner tn

↳ yourusername yes pls n thx

hmmmm the 14th in nyc

↳ this is actually so sus after ur lil comment

hello again

haha! that was my way of saying i’m

also going to be in new york i get there

tomorrow actually!

oh! ahahaha what are the odds lol

seems like i would have some free time too

haha i will too since i’m making a whole

weekend out of it with my best friend

let me know what you’re up to?

yeah for sure ha!

ISLAND GIRLS🥥🌴

kaylor baby🍰

okay but what r u guys wearing?

liv🖤

real question is:

is y/n bringing a date

y/n🪩

idt it’s that kind of event babe

oh nvm gtg

naynay🤍

LMAO pls tell me y’all kept talking w eo

kaylor🍰

ohhhhhh so you guys have been talking

leah boo🐴

and she left him on read!

naynay🤍

y/n no u didn’t

ree💓

be so fr bitch

liv🖤

WHAT

y/n🪩

😶😶😶😶 hehe no…

leah boo🐴

lyin ass

kaylor🍰

wait what! noooo why would u do that??

y/n🪩

anyways i’m wear a black floor length

dress and evening gloves gtg!

an my giggly girl just geeked drew dms her

taglist @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @willowpains @percysley @rrosiitas @nellyboosworld @ethanthequeefqueen

#it girl!reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey #love island usa #social media

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months ago

Text

Triumvirate 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, abuse by parental figure, kidnap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this.

Summary: Three men take you away from an unhappy life.

Characters: destroyer Chris, Captain Syverson, Curtis Everett.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t

The tearing in your roots makes you whine. Your mom twists until your scalp feels ready to split, dragging you down the hall as she snarls. He pushes open the screen door and hurls you out with every ounce of spite. You stumble down the crooked steps and land in the dirt.

“You no good fucking bitch,” she spits beside you. “How many times I gotta tell you to get out!”

You turn over and look up at her. She snarls and puffs like a rabid beast. Her glare scalds. She hates you so much. She always has.

She slams the screen door, then the inside one. You sit up and fix the backless sneakers on your feet. You check the scrapes on your knees and sigh. It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last time.

How could you know she had someone over? You didn’t hear them. You thought she’d be happy to see the dishes done but that chore only riled her. She broke three plates before she latched onto you. Scratches blaze on your head.

You get up and look across the street. Leah watches from her front porch, shaking her head as she puffs on a menthol. No one does anything. They only judge. Around here, it’s not exactly unusual.

Your purse is inside, your phone too. Shoot. You’ll have to wait her out. Whoever she’s got in her room probably gave her some pills. She’ll be out of it soon.

You’re not proud of that thought. You should be concerned. You used to be. Now you just accept what she is. You rely on it. Her addiction keeps her weak; keeps her from hurting you worse.

You turn and trod along the street. You could go down to the corner shop and ask Darren to spot you a gatorade. He’s usually pretty understanding. He knows your mom and that you always come to pay for whatever she wanders out with.

Twenty-one years. It doesn’t feel that long, yet it’s still an eternity. Things never change, they only get worse. Your mom’s hair turns gray and the lines in her face get deeper and her speech more slurred. You only get weaker, more tired, more passive. It’s just the way is. Why fight? Fighting only gets you hurt.

A truck rolls by and the tires dust up dirt. You cough at the tan paint above the silver bumper. You watch the exhaust chuff out down the street and veer around the corner, just past the corner shop.

You approach the Penny Mart and shield your eyes against the sun. The truck idles further down the street. You shrug and continue inside.

Darren pop gum between his teeth. You wave and head for the fridges. You take out a red gatorade and come back to the counter.

“Can I come back later?” You ask. “Mom locked me out again.”

He gnaws on the gum and shakes his head, “uh uh.”

“Oh?” The door chimes as another customer enters. “You know I’m good for it.”

“Manny says no,” he shrugs. “Your mom threw a box of cereal at him.”

“She... did?” You’re overly aware of the man behind. He clears his throat. “Alright then, guess I’ll put this back.”

“Well, you know... I could bend the rules,” he smirks and winks. “Come in the back...”

You grimace. “I’ll put it back.”

You turn and march away, skin crawling at his suggestion. It’s not the first time but for him to do it in front of someone else, that’s humiliating. You open the fridge as the man steps up to the counter.

“I’ll take a pack of lites and twenty on the pump. Throw in a red gatorade,” he says.

You shut the door and drag your feet across the unmopped tile. This place matches the neighbourhood. You’re sure the prices help distract from the expiry dates, too.

Footsteps circle around the shelves. The fridge opens. A whistle keeps you from leaving. “Girl, come get your drink.”

You stop and turn to face the man. His head is shaved close but he sports a thick goatee. He wears a sleeveless flannel, the peek of a chain shimmering around his neck.

“Um, me?”

“Come on,” he beckons you. “Hot day out.”

You hesitate and cross the store. People aren’t all rotten around here. Mrs. Haggin fed you more times than you can count and Ted let you hang around his garage on the hotter days. Still, strangers aren’t common and aren’t often friendly.

“Thanks, uh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Two bucks,” he clucks.

“Right.”

Two bucks you don’t have. Pathetic. He holds the door open and you retrieve the same bottle of Gatorade.

“Thanks again,” you say.

“Never know. One day, someone might help me out,” he sniffs.

He lets the door fall shut. You turn and walk away. He follows. You have a bad feeling as he stays close. He pushes the door open above your shoulder before you can.

Stupid. He probably expects the same thing Darren wanted. You step out and to the side.

“I can’t pay you back,” you offer the bottle.

“Keep it,” he waves you off and drops off the pavement ledge onto the tarmac. “Have a good one.”

“Oh, uh...”

He walks away. Not a look back at you. You watch him approach the truck by the pumps. Tan with a silver bumper. They must’ve needed the top-up.

You kick off the curb and drag your feet away. You’ll go down to the park and find a table in the shade. It’s swelter. The sun beats down on you mercilessly.

You peel away the wrapper and twist the nozzle on the bottle. You drink thirstily as you step on the cracks in the pavement. ‘Step on a crack, break your mother’s back...’

The truck rumbles back at the shop and you hear it rolling toward you. It passes slowly and you pretend to examine the label of the bottle. As nice as it was, you’re not stupid. It’s pity. Everyone feels bad for you, but they don’t really care.

You follow the trail through the tall grasses behind the condemned donut shop down to Smith’s Park. It’s not much of one. Mosquitoes buzz over a pond not much bigger than a puddle, tadpoles swirling in the shallows, and the trees sway over splintering benches and rotting picnic tables.

You sit and suck on the bottle. Couple of hours and you can go home. Home... not really where you belong, just always where you’ve been.

The brush rustles but you don’t pay any mind to it. There are coyotes around here but they’re skittish. Squirrels too but you don’t have much for them to steal.

You put your elbows on the table and peel off the label on the bottle as the condensation soaks through. You lay it out flat on the wood. The dingy smell of the neglected boards clings in the air.

A twig snaps. You look up as a shadow passes between the bushes. Some kids will come down to catch tadpoles. You did when you were young. Your mom dumped the toads down the toilet once they grew.

Another crack. You twitch and look over your shoulder. You grip the bottle and turn straight. Your voice catches as you’re face with an unexpected best. A man in a ski mask.

It’s so absurd, you think it’s a joke. Some of the hunters like to mess around but this isn’t the area for them. It’s not thick enough. They go up north.

He’s big. The epitome of burly. He wears a grey tee shirt damp with sweat and cargo pants. He stares at you through the slits of his mask.

“Um,” you stand. “Sorry, I was just...”

You step over the bench and turn to head back down the trail. There’s another man. He’s in all black. He must be melting in this heat. You reel back.

“Oh...” the back of your knees hit the bench. “I think...” you sidle along. “I’ll just...”

You turn and run towards the thicket of wiry bushes. Before you can reach them, another man in another mask pops out. He wears a sleeveless flannel...

You throw the gatorade at him and spin back. You’re caught by the other two men.

“Shhh,” the one behind you hushes.

You struggle with them, kicking the dirty, writhing as they twist your arms behind you. The man at your back secures your wrists together as the peel of duct tape tears through the hum of insects.

“Please, who are you? Stop!” You whine. This can’t be happening. What the hell is this?

The man in black keeps hold of your upper arm and signals with his other hand. A cloth covers your eyes. You whimper as it’s knotted behind your head. Another is shoved into your mouth. You gag. You’re shushed again.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” you think the bigger man says. It comes from his direction as the man behind you pets your hair. “We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Quiet,” another warns. “Get her legs.”

You fight to evade their grasp blindly. You kick out and your ankles are seized and forced together. The duct tape winds around your ankles.

Your eyes water behind the cloth. It’s more than fear, it’s realisation. You’re not going to go home, but worse, you don’t think anyone will care. They won’t even notice.

You babble around the fabric in your mouth. You choke as you’re taken off your feet, carried between two men like luggage. You’re just a thing. Why is this happening to you?

You squirm and shake, trying to break away from the arms hooked around your torso and legs. A hinge creaks, a car door, then another metallic whine. No, it’s not a car.

You’re loaded into the truck bed and strapped down to the ridge metal. You blink as your eyes burn. You quiver in horror as you sense a deep darkness cast over you and the truck lurches. The door of the bed snaps shut and closes you in.

Weight shifts in the axel as the muffled noise of the doors opening seep through. You whimper as the engine rumbles to life. You try to roll one way or the other. You can’t.

The way they worked, so methodical, it assures you that there is no escape. There’s no loophole for you to find. You’re stuck. That suffocating realisation constricts in your chest. No, no, no. It can’t be real.

You shudder and replay the scene in your head. It happened so fast yet as you relive it, it feels like slow motion. The large man, the man in black, the third one in his...sleeveless flannel.

The cloying flavour of sugary electrolytes stick to your tongue. You shudder. The man in the store. He followed you? Why?

Think about it. What did he see? A woman with no money. A woman alone. A woman wandering off into the shadows.

How stupid. You would never expect it. Never think that anyone would bother. You always just stay out of the way and no one bothers you. Only Darren and his gross leers. Only Rob next door when his wife’s not talking to him.

The truck bounces over the road. You can hear the other cars around you as they head into the city. Right through the mid-afternoon rush. How many people are driving by completely unaware of you hidden in the back.

The pit in your stomach deepens and you whine. You try to scream. You can’t. You try to kick. You can’t.

These men are taking you who knows where to do things you can’t imagine and there’s no one coming to save you. Just like no one ever came to save you from your mom.

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eternal-sunshine-222 · 7 months ago

Note

Omg hii I saw that you are writing for Judd birch. I’m so happy to see that the tag is getting a little more active now. Could you please write a blurb for Judd x alt!reader where Judd and reader are just hanging out and someone in the birch family catches him being all soft and cuddly with reader?

Hii! I will tell you right now I just recently started watching Big Mouth so I don't know too much about many of the characters, but I will do my best! This is my first request on here and to be honest I'm really glad it's for Judd. I didn't think many people would want me to write for him so I'm excited. I hope you like it! <3

YOU BIG SOFTIE, YOU - Judd Birch x Alt!Reader

Characters: Judd Birch, fem!reader, Nick Birch, Diane Birch, Elliot Birch, Leah Birch

Warnings: light cursing

Contains: lots and lots of fluff

Judd Birch was not a people person at all, not even with his own family. He preferred to stay by himself, his only company being his battalion of raccoons and he was perfectly fine with that. He didn't need someone constantly nagging him. Now, cliche as it is, that all changed when he saw her. He would do anything for her, anything at all.

Y/n was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with her hair dyed dark crazy colors, bold graphic makeup, and band tees that never seemed to end. She, much like himself, didn't seem to care about social status or making friends at school. She wanted out of that hell hole as soon as physically possible.

The eldest Birch spawn had approached Y/n almost nervously after school one day with plans of asking her if she'd like to come meet his raccoons. But, alas, he chickened out. He couldn't believe that; that was something Nick did, not him! Eventually after watching Y/n for weeks the woman herself approached him outside during their lunch break, ready to beat him down if he was perving on her.

It was almost Christmas break, very cold outside. When Y/n approached Judd who was leaning against the side of the brick school building smoking a cigarette, his black and blue hair lightly blowing in the cold breeze, she could've fainted right then and there. He was beautiful. Y/n had only ever saw him from yards away, definitely not close enough to get a good look at his features. She liked what she was looking at and she liked it a lot. It would be such a shame if he really was perving on her.

Judd hadn't seen who he referred to as the girl of his dreams approaching until she spoke to him for the very first time.

"Hey."

It was such a small, simple greeting yet it caused him to lose all the breath in his lungs and start coughing violently. Y/n jumped slightly, startled at the sudden reaction. She quickly took a water bottle out from her bag and handed it to him, hoping to ease the burning he felt in his lungs. Judd chugged down half of it before handing it back to Y/n with a flushed face and narrowed embarrassed eyes.

"First time smoking?" Y/n joked lightheartedly, a small smile on her face as she glanced up at him from her bag.

Judd's face turned even redder and just nodded at her, stubbing out what was left of his burning cigarette.

Y/n sighed at his lack of words and had mentally decided that she apparently wasn't going to get any answers out of him, but she talked anyway.

"I've seen you staring at me for the past few weeks. Wanted to know what that was all about. Care to tell me?" She raises a thin drawn on eyebrow at him as she tucks her gloved hands underneath her arms to warm them up further.

Judd doesn't answer her immediately, stuck on what to say. Y/n waits a few moments more before sighing and starts to walk away.

'So much for that,' she thinks to herself.

"Go out with me."

Y/n stops in her tracks and whips her head around.

"I'm sorry?"

Judd is silent.

"Please?" He's hopeful.

Y/n walks back over to where he's still leaning against the school building. Her arms are still crossed as she narrows her brows slightly in confusion.

"Is that what you've been wanting? Because you could've just said so instead of being a creep. I mean, look at us." Y/n gestures to their alternative appearances. "It's like we're made for each other!"

Judd smiles, knowing she's joking but also getting a hint of seriousness from her words.

Y/n took Judd up on his offer of a date and the two have been pretty much inseparable ever since. They spent all their time together, skipping school to drive around, going to small diners around the neighborhood late at night for their little dates. But they kept in on the downlow. Both parties felt it was not necessary for people to know what wasn't any of their business. It wasn't until Christmas day that the Birch family found out Judd even had a girlfriend of sorts.

Shortly after school had let out for break Y/n and Judd had spent the day together at her apartment with her parents. They were very supportive of their daughter's relationship. As long as she was safe.

And safe she was. Y/n and Judd swapped gifts early on that morning seeing as she would be going on a small trip to a few states away to visit some family for Christmas. He had gifted her a new pair of large black boots, something she had been eyeing for a while, along with a new pocketknife for which she thanked him thoroughly and showered him with kisses. In turn Y/n had gifted him a lovely soft deep blue sweater and a chain necklace with her initial on it.

Judd loved the sweater she got him but he didn't love it as much as his new chain. He never took it off unless it was to shower. It had quickly become his most prized possession and he would die before he let anyone touch it, let alone take it. Unfortunately, that day came a lot sooner than he would've liked.

Judd woke up midway through Christmas day which resulted in an even later shower. He undressed and before he stepped in he put his chain in the same place he always did: on the little shelf above the sink, careful to make sure it didn't fall off to the side or down into the sink. But when he got out it wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Panic filled his heart and chest, his entire being really, as he searched the entire bathroom from floor to ceiling. After finding nothing he wrapped a towel around his still dripping form and slammed the door open. He almost slipped rushing down the stairs and into the living room where his mother sat on his father's lap and Nick and Leah were on opposite ends of the couch.

"Where the fuck is it?" His voice was harsh and his eyes narrowed, cheeks red.

Diane looked over at her eldest child from the television and smiled kindly.

"Where's what, darling?"

Judd huffed out a breath, impatient and worrying, afraid he might tear up.

"My chain. The one I always wear. Where is it?"

It's only then that he notices Nick with a small smirk on his face as he looks at his phone. His eyes narrow more and he frowns before lunging at his younger brother. The two wrestle for a short time with Judd easily overpowering his youngest sibling before he stands, wet hair ruffled messily and towel askew, held in place by only one hand as his other clutches onto the chain he retrieved from Nick's pocket.

"Stay out of my shit, dickface." He then stomps back upstairs to the bathroom and slams the door shut.

The remaining members of the Birch family all look at each other with curious eyes before Elliot speaks up.

"What was all that about?"

Nick, who is still out of breath with red cheeks, shrugs his shoulders and they all continue with their previous activities.

It isn't until Valentine's Day that the Birch family meets Y/n. The love-filled holiday fell on a weekday this year, meaning his siblings would be in school and his parents would most likely be spending the day out and about going on little dates. He thought he'd have the entire house to himself so he invited Y/n to come over so they could spend quality time together.

Judd and Y/n spent most of their time watching horror movies on the downstairs television, cuddled up under the many blankets that Y/n had brought over with neither getting up unless to use the bathroom or make more popcorn and snacks. It was a laid back, calm day, just how both liked it.

Both Judd and Y/n wished this day would never end.

But unfortunately it had to.

Y/n fell asleep on top of Judd sometime during their fourth movie of the day, her face buried in his neck with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was starting to doze off himself when he heard the front door unlock and open quickly. As much as he wished his family wouldn't say anything he knew they would. But he wasn't going to take any chances in waking Y/n up so he stayed perfectly still and let them.

Nick and Leah were the first to enter the living room. Leah glanced at her older brother laying on the couch briefly before continuing on to her room. Nick on the other hand stopped in his tracks and stared at the girl laying on top of his brother for an ungodly amount of time before Judd raised a tired eyebrow at him. It was only then that he called out for Elliot and Diane.

Judd quickly reached his hands up and covered his girlfriend's ears, shielding her from the loud voices as his parents entered the room. They, too, stopped in their tracks upon entering the living room but instead of staring they both smiled and grabbed onto each other.

"Oh, Judd, you big softy! I knew there was something going on with you." Diane smiled sweetly at her son and his newly revealed sleeping love. "How long?"

Judd cleared his throat lightly.

"Few months."

Elliot spoke up next.

"Looks like you got yourself a nice one, son. Just like you father." He turns to Diane and the two start to snuggle together.

Judd grimaces and turns away.

"Gross."

But Judd knew his father was right. Y/n was a nice one. The nicest. And he wouldn't change her for anything in the world.

I finally finished it! I really hope you like this, and like I said I just recently got into the show, so I don't know too much about it. I wrote this purely based off vibes alone. Please let me know if there's anything I can improve and don't be afraid to leave comments or ask questions. Thank you so much! <3

#big mouth #big mouth x reader #judd birch #judd birch x reader #judd birch fluff

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discodinosaur · 30 days ago

Text

➳ Talk So Sweet (Doin' Bad Things)

↳ the last of us | explicit | manny alvarez/reader | 10.1k | complete

Summary: It was common knowledge that you and Manny did not get on. But, after a run goes awry, you're the one patching him, and if disliked you that much, how come he's told his dad all about you?

--Or-- A slow descent into falling in love with the person you hate the most.

A lot of people knew that you and Manny did not gel well. It didn’t take a lot to work out between the icy glares, the cold shoulders and, sometimes, going as far as pretending the other didn’t exist.

Which ideally wasn’t the best for the rest of your little group. You hadn’t been part of the Firefly’s when they fell but you had known of Marlene, whisperings about her initiative and what would happen if she set foot in Seattle or even came across the WLF. Yet when the ex-Firefly’s arrived, you had taken them under your wing and in return, you became one with their group, though you figured that sharing a room with Leah had something to do with it.

Which brings you to now, sat in the corner of the mess hall with a greasy rag, absently wiping it over your pistol while Nora and Manny are at each other’s throats for what must be the third time this week.

“—You’re not going to tell Isaac shit,” Nora spits at him, spoon clenched tightly in her fist as she glares daggers at Manny.

Manny leans over the table, leering at her, “Sure, that his senior medic is shirking her duties to what? Bunk off with the armourer?”

Ohh, of course. It would be you that Manny has a problem with. If this was Abby or Mel, you can guarantee he wouldn’t have an issue with it. But you? That man has had it out for you the moment you spoke to him. Besides, you’d had this job cleared for days, a simple supply run and one that would be beneficial to the med-bay too. It’s just Manny being typical Manny that he needs Nora’s help now of all times.

“But it’s fine when you do it to get a piece of skirt, right? Besides, I’m not shirking off any duties.” Nora swings back easily, leaning back on the bench. “Never thought you of all people would be one to tattle to Isaac. Like even has time for you if it’s not Scar related.”

Manny’s jaw ticks and you can feel the anger rolling off him in waves, most of it directed straight at you.

“Nora, it’s fine. I can ask Owen to come with me,” you try, attempting to placate both of them, but Nora holds up a hand to stop you.

“No, no. You did get it cleared, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she turns back to Manny with a sickly sweet smile, “so take Mel with you.”

Manny jumps up from the table, jolting it so the cutlery rattles and he swears in Spanish. You glance up as he shoves his hands in his pockets and storms out of the mess hall.

“He really has it out for you, huh?” Nora asks with a shake of her head.

“Yup, something like that. I’ll meet you down the armoury in ten.”

You wait for Nora down in the armoury, leaning against the wall with the guns already signed out, while Olive, another armourer who trained under you, talks your ear off about the guy she’s seeing. Eric, you think his name is.

And then in comes Manny, closely followed by a hesitant looking Mel. She gives you a half smile as Manny struts over towards Olive. He doesn’t even glance in your direction, not when Olive asks you about Manny’s usual, nor when you slip back behind the desk to collect his shotgun and extra ammo. He clenches his jaw, white-knuckling the shotgun and nods his head to Olive in thanks.

Mel, ever the peacekeeper, apologises when Manny’s out of earshot, taking her pistol and rifle with a grateful thanks to you both and hurries after him with Bear in tow, barking excitedly at her heels.

“You should’ve given him an empty box of ammo,” Olive says quietly to you, eyes on the two of them heading towards a truck.

You snort, “Because that would go down so well when he gets back.”

“He can be so awful sometimes.”

“Dude probably just needs to get laid,” you shrug and then spot Nora making her way towards you and bid Olive a hasty goodbye.

It was late. Later than you usually stayed down in the armoury. But with Danny, Owen and Manny coming back later than predicted from their run, all three looking pissed, you silently took their weapons from them, cleaning them down and letting the three of them cool off in their own way. Owen had tried to help; lingering back and making small talk but you had taken the box of ammo from his hands and sent him on his way towards Abby knowing she’d appreciate his presence more.

You swung the keys to armoury on the keyring around your finger, waiting for whoever was in the shooting range to finish up and leave. But the minutes ticked by, the shots still fired and your eyes were heavy with tiredness.

Six more shots sounded and you gripped the keys tight in your hand, quietly going inside and let out a sigh at the sight of Manny in the end stall. Ear protection forgone and muttering to himself in Spanish as he reloads the pistol. You winced as he emptied it one by one into the target without hesitation.

“Manny.”

He either ignores you or doesn’t hear you as the gun clicks empty and he mutters again, throwing in another twelve rounds into the pistol and firing them off one by one, you count them as you hear the cartridges clink to the floor.

“¡Déjame en paz!”

You lean against the door, exasperated as he fumbles and picks up the ammo shells on the floor.

“Manny. I need to lock up,” you tell him firmly. The last thing you want is to get into an argument with him now. Both of you obviously exhausted, words would sting a little more and no holds would be barred for the slew of curses that could leave you.

“Need me to fucking translate for you?”

The frustration rolls off the two of you in waves and you chew on your lip, strutting over and collecting up the pistol and the handful of unused ammo. As you pull back, Manny’s hand wraps around your wrist and your eyes find the smear of dried blood on his knuckles, over his sleeves and up onto his neck. Your lips parting in surprise when you see the slice over his cheek, the split in his lip and the purple undertones of a bruise blossoming on his jaw.

“The fuck happened to you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“Nothing,” he snaps, turning away from you.

“Bullshit, Manny, look at your face! You should’ve gone to the med—”

“No. I don’t need to go to the med-bay. It’s just a small cut, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He hasn’t let go of your wrist and the longer you stare at him, the more he starts to wilt under your hard gaze. He turns back to you, meeting your eyes and his grip loosens around your wrist. He lets out another sigh, and runs his other hands through his already rumpled hair. “I’m not going to the med-bay because Mel and Nora will just ask questions. I’ve had worse, now stop fussing over me.”

You wretch your wrist out of his grasp. “Suit yourself. But you’re in my shooting range.”

His throat bobs, jaw ticking as he glares at you with unspoken curses. But Manny turns away without so much as a jab, clearing up the mess of ammo spilling onto the bench. He’s silent, and when he speaks you almost miss it.

“Scars.”

You stop, turning on your heel, keys clenched tightly in your fist. “What about ‘em?”

Manny continues to hastily put away the ammo, fingers scurrying over the stray bullets, jaw set as he stares at the box. “They jumped us just past the park. We didn’t see them until they had the upper and then you can put together what happened after.”

“The park? Isn’t that supposed to be–”

“Exactly,” he nods, eyes flicking to you, dark under the fluorescent lighting. “Which is another reason I can’t go to the med bay. It was Isaac’s idea. If anyone else finds out they’ll be an uproar.”

“Of course it was Isaac,” you mutter under your breath and you clip the keyring onto your belt loop, stepping forwards towards him. “I have a med-kit down here that Nora restocked the other day. I’m not a doctor but I know how to treat a cut.”

Manny seems torn, an internal back and forth going on in his head and in the end he shakes his head with a swear in Spanish. “Fine. But make it quick.”

“Wouldn’t want to drag this out, Alvarez,” you sigh and fetch the small first aid kit. Your hand reaches out tentatively, cupping his cheek to turn his head towards you to get a better look at the cut. With an alcohol soaked cloth, you dab at it and Manny hisses at the initial sting.

“Did you kill them?”

“Course. I’m not Isaac’s top Scar killer for nothing.”

You thin your lips and say nothing as you clean up the mess of dried blood on his skin, feeling his quickening pulse as you wipe his neck, thinking nothing more than it being the adrenaline. You take a half step back and assess him quickly for any other injuries, turning him by his shoulders and noticing the wince as he turns to his left. His jacket, half open, does nothing to hide the creeping stain of blood that’s blossoming on his grey shirt.

“What happened there?”

He looks down, following where you’re looking and has the decency to shrug.

“Knife wound maybe?”

You roll your eyes at his unhelpful replies and pull his shirt where the wound is, scrunching it up just below his ribs. If he would just let you help him without being a pain in the ass then this would go over a lot smoother.

“I have some gauze…”

He says nothing but holds his shirt up as you gather the gauze and medical tape, your hands skating over his warm body as you take your time to make sure he’s not in any pain.

“If that doesn’t heal overnight, go to Mel or Nora, you might need stitches.”

“It’s not a stab would,” he says, smoothing over the gauze. “You’re just stubborn.”

“I’m stubborn?” you ask, clicking the kit shut and wiping your hands on your cargos.

“Si.”

You almost smile at him but you remember where you are and who you’re with and the urge to get out overwhelms you so you pick up his discarded gun and med-kit then hurry out of the shooting range.

“Turn the light off when you’re done.”

After that night in the shooting range, Manny starts to avoid you. To begin with, you hadn’t even noticed it, not with how the two of you skirt around each other, always trying to dodge the other if you can and with Manny spending a lot of mealtimes with his dad, and you down in the workshop, it didn’t even cross your mind.

It was Owen that noticed it first, the second week in while you were sat in the usual corner of the mess hall, Mel on his left and Leah sandwiched between you.

“You ever see much of Manny nowadays? He’s not joined us as much since we came back from that run the other week.”

Your head snapped up and you followed Owen’s gaze to the other side of the hall where Manny was sat with his dad, turned towards and gesturing with his hands as he spoke. You kept your mouth shut, let the other three speculate as you turned it over in your head.

But the more you dwell on it, the more it ate you up. You had been with him last that day, patching him up and he had retaliated with what? Avoiding you? Did he really dislike you that much that he would start ignoring his friends?

So what you do instead is grab one of the breakfast burritos in the early morning, when barely anyone is around and head to the gym, seeking out Abby. Because if anyone understands him, it’s her.

To your surprise, she’s not there and you chew your lip as you remember the few spots she has tucked away that she goes to that’s not her room. Finally, you check the library, and on first glance it looks empty. If it weren’t for the collection of ottomans pushed together, you would call it a morning and leave it.

But you know Abby better than that and beeline for ottoman’s where sure enough she’s sat hunched over, reading one of the old battered books on the shelf.

“Morning,” you greet her quietly, waving the burrito in her direction. “I thought I’d find you in the gym this morning.”

She shrugs with one shoulder and marks her page, dog earring the corner and takes the burrito. “Eh, I could do with a rest and Manny asked for the room last night. These ottomans do nothing for your neck.”

You try not to think about Manny asking for the room to be alone with someone else. You really do, but lately your mind is on him a lot more than usual – probably just something to do with that he’s been avoiding you.

“Does he seem like he’s avoiding you?”

Abby chews thoughtfully and then shakes her head. “No, he seems the same to me. But Owen did mention it too the other day. He has asked for the room a lot more than usual though.”

“It was Owen that made me notice it,” you admit, and sit cross legged on the ottoman next to her. “I saw him when he came back from that run with Owen. He spent some time in the shooting range, taking it out on one of the targets.”

The corner’s of Abby’s lips turn up into a small smile, “Yeah, he did mention that. We haven’t talked a whole lot about it if I’m honest. Owen hasn’t even let up about what the hell happened out there.”

You don’t bother to let on about patching him up. Both of you keeping it to yourselves but she does ease your mind and you manage not to think about him. You move on to other things, asking her about her workouts are going, being careful to pry too much into the details.

You leave Abby, heading back down to the mess hall to grab something for yourself before a long day down in the armoury. The amount of people going out on runs today was insane compared to usual, you figure that Isaac must be planning something soon with the amount of intel he’s gathering.

Just as you find a table for yourself, your eye catches on the shaky wave of José and your expression softens. Manny might be intolerable, but his dad is a sweetheart and always makes an effort with you. You slip into the chair next to him and you can’t help but worry your lip at how bad his hands seem today.

“How have you been? I haven’t seen much of you recently, I think you’ve been hiding from me,” he asks you, a warm smile on his face and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Not hiding from you,” you say softly, “just… busy, you know? You seem well, though, how are you hands?”

“Oh, you know, some days are better than others. I’ve been meaning to thank you, by the way. For patching Manny up the other week.”

You splutter around your bite of food and blink at José, “huh?” you say, rather stupidly. Manny told his dad about you, but not Abby.

José smiles at you and pats your hand. “He told me about the run in he had and said that you were the one to find him down in the shooting range.”

“Oh… yeah I did but–”

“I know he’s not the best with words and can be a stubborn mule sometimes. But thank you, I appreciate you looking out for him.”

“It was nothing, mister Alvarez,” you say sincerely. “He just looked in a bad way and it was getting late. If I’m honest I just wanted to lock up.”

He smiles warmly at you again and grasps the top of your hand. “I know my son, and for what it’s worth I’m sorry he can be such a brat around you.”

You thin your mouth into what you hope passes for a smile, unsure of what to say because Manny can be so much more than a brat to you.

“Dad, have you—”

Manny cuts himself off as soon as he sees you and easily ignores you as he passes to sit on the other side of his dad. José gives you a good-natured eye-roll and turns to his son, saying something in quiet Spanish. Manny glances at you, replies back to his dad and turns his body to him. You feel like you’re intruding as Manny takes José’s hands in his own, turning them over and gently massaging his palms.

“I should go,” you say quietly to José and scrunch the foil from your burrito into a ball.

“Don’t be a stranger. You should come sit with me more often.”

You look between him and Manny, who’s not paying you any attention and nod slowly, “Promise, sir.”

And you meant it. But the whole way down to the armoury, José’s words about that night in the shooting range bounce around in your mind.

Being out in the field was a nice reprieve from being in the armoury. It gave the time to work on your aim and what modifications were working and which one weren’t. Today just happened to be the day that Manny, of all the people, was assigned partner on the run. You had tried to swap with Leah, even Abby but both of them were on higher priority jobs than you.

Just your luck.

When you got a glance at him in the mess hall that morning. He didn’t look particularly thrilled at the idea either and when he caught your eye, he bowed his head to talk with his dad. You had loaded your pistol forcefully and shoved it into your holster, not even giving Manny a second glance while he collected his own weapons later. You signed out a truck and started the ignition, letting it idle while you waited.

“You’ll waste the gas if you keep doing that,” Manny snipes, climbing in beside you and shutting his door with more force than strictly necessary.

You ignore him, rolling your eyes and the wheels spin as you overdo it on the pull away. Good, let him know he’s already pissed you off. You stop briefly at the gates and then put your foot to the floor on the Seattle roads. Neither of you say a word to each other on the way to the old garment factory, both of you too stubborn to acknowledge the other. Manny is stiff as a board when you glance over, head turned to stare out the window.

Getting in was easy. Both of you agreeing, without so many words, that stealth was the better option here. It had only just been scouted out earlier in the week – supplies that you could use but also a number of infected roaming the narrow hallways. This had to be a silent in and out job.

You took down two runners right away, approaching them from behind and forcing your knife into their throat, cutting at the muscle and sinew, letting them fall with a thud to the floor as Manny took out another. His method wasn’t as practised as yours, getting its attention and then jumping it. Even in stealth, he’s attracted to the violence and threat of getting caught.

Both of you keep your steps light and your flashlights pointing down as you make your way through the hallways, avoiding the factory floor as much as possible. Manny covers you as you pick the lock, crouching down, ear straining to hear the telltale click.

It’s when you open the door that everything seems to go wrong. The door swings open, knocking into an old, beat up filing cabinet that echoes around the room. Both you and Manny freeze. The second thing you notice is the ear-splitting screech of a clicker that looms out of the darkness.

Manny grabs your arm, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you out of your stunned silence. “Run, fucking run!” he calls to you and you become aware of your feet, dragging them to a sprint down a different corridor.

You turn, unloading a clip from your rifle into the nearest oncoming onslaught of infected. Runners fall like dominoes, and a clicker halts, head drooping as you shoot the fungus clean off, giving you both a few seconds to make distance.

The rifle clicks, out of ammo and you turn, sprinting with all you have down the rest of the corridor towards the bolted door. Manny is just two steps ahead, and rams his shoulder against the lock, forcing it open and grunting as he squeezes through the small gap. You see his hands on the door, fingers tense as he tries to hold it open but it’s too heavy and it shuts on you, slamming into place.

You reach for your handgun, popping two bullets into the stalker that’s crept up on you and you watch as it convulses on the floor before throwing yourself against the door, hand pushing on the handle. But it doesn’t budge.

“No, no,” you mutter, shouldering it again and clinging onto the handle. “Manny? Manny!”

“The mechanism is busted,” his voice sounds from the other side, just as panic stricken. “I’m trying.”

“Manny, open the door. Open the fucking door right now!”

Fear seizes you. Your hands trembling as you check the clip in your hand gun and you let out a whimper as you count the measly seven bullets you have left. That’s hardly enough to take out the whole corridor. Maybe this is how it ends for you, at the hands of infected all because a fucking door won’t open.

“Fuck… fuck!” you mutter, blood rushing in your ears and tears spilling down your cheeks. This is not how it was supposed to go. Not here, not a run with Manny of all people. You flatten yourself against the door and grip your gun with both hands, though it does nothing to stop the sway of the pistol. You count each bullet, chest heaving as you face death head on.

One. A runner hit in the shoulder, dropping to the floor and using its hands to crawl towards you, gurgling and thrashing on the floor.

Two. The runner goes silent, one final yelp and it stills. The door up head bursts open with the noise only a shambler could make, lolloping to one side from the weight of the pustules.

Three and four – both miss. The bloodcurdling, throaty hisses from a clicker and whines from stalkers join the shambler as they barrel down the corridor straight for you.

Five. Hits one of the stalkers and it lets out a scream, crawling up into the vents out of your sight.

Six. Another miss and tears blur your vision, your heart hammering in your chest. There’s nothing that can help you now.

Seven. You close your eyes, not seeing where the bullet lands and slide down the door, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Your back gives out, and you fall backwards into nothing. There’s the sound of a slam somewhere in the room and then something is grabbing you under your arms. You thrash, trying to fight it.

“No!” you sob, pushing yourself against the wall.

“It’s me, it’s Manny.”

You breath catches in your throat and you use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes, blinking through the tears. His eyes are wide, cheeks drained of any colour as he raises his hands, palms up.

“Manny?”

“It’s me. I’ve got you. I need you to breathe.”

You keep your eyes on his hands as he slowly and carefully brings them down to hold your shoulders. He gives you a pointed look and you follow his lead, a deep breath in and then out. He repeats this until you’ve got it under control.

Feud, rivalry, some unspoken third thing between you be damned. You breathing catches in your throat and he steps into your space, one arm wrapping around you, placing his palm on the small of your back and you let your head fall into the crook his neck.

He’s murmuring in Spanish, other hand cupping the nape of your neck and his body swaying gently. You fit against him like he’s been waiting for this moment.

You want to be embarrassed, and maybe sometime in the future you’ll start to avoid him. But if he had been seconds later, you would’ve died. Right now, all you want is to be held. And Manny does, without any complaint or any offhand comment. He wraps you in his arms and lets you cry.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs in English. “You’re safe. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Infected throw themselves against the sealed door, muffled screeches and bang echoing around the room but all you can feel right now is Manny. His solid frame, his voice soft as he repeats over and over how sorry he is. You inhale deeply, getting gunpowder and citrus from his jacket and open your eyes and stepping back from him.

His hands cover yours, his eyes searching your face as you take a few deep, controlled breaths on your own. You’re alive. You weren’t savagely ripped apart and you’ve had much worse than this. You pull one of your hands free from his to wipe over your face.

“Why are you sorry?” you ask him eventually, your voice croaky and rough from all the tears.

“Because if I had wasted another minute trying to open that fucking door you wouldn’t be standing right in front of me.”

“But I’m here,” you tell him and squeeze his hand. “I’m right here.”

The door bangs again, louder this time and you pull on Manny’s hand. “We need to get to the supply cupboard,” you say, as if the past five minutes didn’t happen.

He looks at you wildly and shakes his head. “Are you insane? Fuck the supply cupboard!”

“We came here for a supply run.”

Manny’s not listening to you, he pushes aside one of the cabinets covering the exit and peers down the short hallway. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Manny–”

“No.”

He grabs your hand again, leading the way down the hallway. You have no idea where you even are, it’s too easy to get turned around in a place like this.

“We’ll go out one of the fire exits, should be easier to find the truck,” he says, walking slightly ahead of you. You nod numbly and follow him. You mind is buzzing with what just happened, between the infected almost getting to you to Manny holding you like you were something precious.

The sunlight attacks your eyes as soon as you step outside and you use your hand to shield your eyes while Manny barricades the door. You sweep the overgrown parking lot and don’t notice anything out of the ordinary then Manny taps your shoulder, pointing down the side of the building. You nod, and the two of you scurry through the weeds and fallen debris until you see the truck and your heart eases at the sight of it.

“Keys?” you hear him ask and you fumble the ring on your belt loop, unclipping it and handing it to him, silently getting into the passenger side.

Just like the drive there, neither of you say a word to each other, except the roles seem to have been reversed, and now it’s your turn to stare out the window. You know that you should be keeping an eye out but there’s still a tremor to your hands that you can’t quite shake and you want nothing more than to be back at the stadium, curled up in your bed. You just hope that luck is on your side and Leah doesn’t ask questions or, even better, she’s staying with Jordan for the night.

Fortunately for you, she’s not there when you get back. You’d dropped off your weapons, feigning a smile and a humourless laugh as Steve tries to joke with you, making a quick getaway with the excuse of needing a shower. But the walk up to your room, the seemingly endless flights of stairs to your level feels never-ending. You’ve never been so glad for the silence that greets you when your door swings open.

In a daze, you drop your pack off in the small kitchenette and grab your wash bag. You don’t remember the walk to the showers, or the hot water pelting down on your back. Getting back to your room is a blur, but when you crawl under the comforter and your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light.

The knocking does not stop, and it worms it’s way into your dream – an incessant rap against wood that sounds like a timer, counting down the amount of ammo you had left in your pistol as the memory plays over and over in your unconsciousness. You wake with a start, sitting up and squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that whoever is on the other side of the door just gets the hint already.

When they don’t stop, you groan and swing your legs over the side of the bed and pad barefoot over the worn carpet. You grab the key, forcing it into the lock and the door swings open.

Abby, maybe, you expected. Nora, even Mel. But you certainly did not expect Manny to be on the other side of the door. Especially not holding a foil-wrapped dish and with his hair sticking up in disarray as though he’s ran his hand through it one too many times.

“Manny?” you ask, blinking at him to make sure that you’re definitely not seeing things.

“I noticed you weren’t at dinner,” he shrugs, looking way out of his depth and avoiding your eyes. “Least I could do is bring you some after today.”

“Oh, um, sure,” you say, opening the door wider to let him in. “Come in, I guess.”

Manny hesitates only for a second and then sidesteps past you without another word. He fills the tiny room with his presence alone. You know that it’s not the first time he’s been in here – not when you share with one of your friend group, but he’s not even glancing in the direction of her things. Instead he’s staring at the wall behind you, reading over the posters and prints tacked up haphazardly on the wall.

You take a seat on your bed, legs hanging off the side as your back hits the wall and Manny steps forward, looming over you, holding out the dish.

“It’s chilli. Muy picante.”

Your lips twitch as you take it – steam rising as soon as you lift the foil life and your stomach groans, you don’t remember if you even ate breakfast, today has been nothing but a rush then a blur for you.

You notice that Manny moves around the small kitchenette in a familiar way, it’s just a little jarring to see in your room. But you give the faintest of smiles in thanks when he hands you the spoon. What surprises you even more is that he unlaces his boots and sits the other side of your bed, being sure to keep some distance between you.

You take your first bite of chilli, thinking that the silence between you would be uncomfortable and awkward. But it’s not, though it might have something to do with Manny not speaking, it’s easy. It’s different than being around Owen or Jordan, even Nick.

He lets you eat in silence but something gnaws at you and you feel the need to break the quiet.

“I don’t… these things don’t usually affect me so bad. I’ve killed infected before and been in worse situations,” you tell him, your spoon clinking against the dish.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t handle yourself.”

“I know. I just, I feel like I overreacted.”

“Overreacted? You were seconds away from being ripped apart from infected. The door wasn’t supposed to get jammed, I don’t know what happened but I wouldn’t live with myself if you died on a run like that because of me.”

“Is that why you brought me food? Because you felt bad?” you bite out, pushing the dish onto your nightstand, suddenly no longer feeling hungry.

“No… no. It’s– it doesn’t matter. ” he snaps abruptly, running a hand through his hair and you let out a long breath through your nose.

“How’s your dad getting on?” you ask instead, figuring that the best thing to do right now is change the subject. It works, taking Manny by surprise that his frown wilts away, replaced by a softer expression only reserved for Jose.

“Bien, though his hands are still seizing up a lot,” he pauses for a moment and then adds, “he asked about you earlier.”

You give him a quizzical look, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes. Manny shrugs, not quite meeting your gaze. “He knew we were out on a run today. Guess he just wondered how we got on when he didn’t see you in the mess hall.”

Though his words sound honest enough, you can tell that Manny’s hiding something from you. So you wait him out and he shifts, crossing and uncrossing his ankles before he finally caves. “I told him –just him – that it didn’t go well.”

“Why? You barely say two words to me any other time so why are you now going to your dad about me?”

“Papá, he cares about you.”

“Right, right. But you? You can’t fucking stand me.”

Manny stiffens, even with the distance between you you can feel how he tenses up. Given the circumstance, you probably should back down, put it one side and curl back up in your comforter. Except, no. You’ve not wronged him, yet he continues to treat you like some nobody.

“Why is that?” you ask, “What have I ever done to you to make you dislike me so much when the others are so fucking friendly towards me and treat me like an actual human being.”

He clears his throat, and for a second you think he’s going to answer. But the silence just lingers, heavy in the air. You shake your head and get up, taking the dish towards the small kitchenette that Manny had to fit so well into. You run the tap, too many thoughts running through your head and a too heavy silence over the room.

Then he’s behind you, reaching past you to turn the tap off, so close that he’s almost pressing against your back.

“I don’t hate you.”

He says it too quietly and he sounds too honest for you to doubt him. You turn in the little gap between you and lean back against the sink.

“Then why—”

“Mierda,” he curses, voice strained and brows pinched together. “Because you’re so fucking radiant. You’re lighting up every damn room you’re in and I don’t want to snuff out that light with my past. And today? Fuck, today I could’ve lost you and it would have been my fault.”

“Your past? Manny, you think my past isn’t as fucked up? But I’ll be damned if it stops me from living.”

You meet his stare, eyes black in the low lighting of your room and so close to you. Just looking at you, his eyes flicking over each inch of your face, your neck and your shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“Admiring you. Up close for the first time.”

You don’t know which one of you moves first, but your hands curl into his jacket and his lips are so fucking soft and they’re on yours and you want to drown in this feeling. His hands cup your jaw, tongue running over the seam of your lips desperately seeking more and more of you.

You let him in. Opening your mouth and hands moving up to twist in the curls at the nape of his neck that has him panting into your mouth. This shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but there’s a small nagging part of you that feels like you’re making up for wasted time.

You pull back, catching the sight of his wet lips and drooping eyes. He leans in, chasing you for another taste and you move your head to the side, his lips catching your cheek.

“Manny,” you murmur, breath fanning into his ear.

“Si, el sol?”

“You couldn’t have done this earlier?”

He chuckles, hands sliding under your shirt to grip your hips and you tilt back to look at him.

“Maybe. But my dad taught me that good things are worth waiting for.”

You pull him in for another kiss and this don’t time, you don’t pull away.

That’s how it goes with you and Manny. Like you two could play this game forever, the dancing back and forth, the hate with no heat behind it – it makes sense to you, unravelling since the first kiss you shared. It was always inevitable.

You share stolen moments – when Leah stays out overnight with Jordan, when Abby’s too focused in the gym, straining and overworking herself. Other times are when Manny sneaks into the armoury, pocket full of tin foil wrapped food, perched on the edge of your workbench while you finish up.

Somehow, god only knows how, you manage to keep it quiet. None of your friends seem to catch on. Mainly because Manny still goes out of his way to not be around you or you around him.

But as the days turn into weeks, you feel like Manny starts to know you, really know you. Little things that you didn’t even know about yourself and letting him in to see the deepest parts of you. He eventually tells you about the real reason José kept asking about you, that he could see right through his son, seeing it for what it was.

Manny, in a surprising turn of events, opened up to you. Outside of his bravado and arrogance, he could be incredibly sweet, spending every night he could with you, if not in your room, he would spend hours down in the armoury with you or up on the roof, out of sight from the patrolling watchmen.

“Abby’s asking questions.”

You adjust the focus on your binoculars and follow the movements of the Scar you’ve been tracking for the last couple of minutes. You’re laying on your front under the canopy of some ferns, damp dirt clinging to your clothes as you and Manny are on lookout. He lays next you, one hand on the small of your back, the other scribbling over a map in red marker.

“I’m surprised it took her this long,’ you reply, lowering the binoculars. “We’ve been together for what? Just over a month now?”

Saying it out loud still sends butterflies straight to your gut. Together. You and Manny weren’t just fucking around, he wanted to actually be with you. Though you two of you kept it under wraps, Manny couldn’t keep something like this from his dad. Who knew that José already had an inkling about how Manny really felt about you.

“You might not be keeping track, but my dad sure is,” he says with a huff of laughter right by your ear. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing, if Abby knew.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise and you turn your head to look at him, “Won’t she tell Owen?”

Manny shakes his head, pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Honestly, she has so much on her mind right now I don’t think she’d even bat an eye to it.”

The radio clipped to Manny’s vest crackles and he yanks it off and you take the moment to look at him – damp from ever-rainy Seattle, unruly curls sticking to his forehead and the wiry beard that’s starting to get just a little too long. He catches you looking and smirks as answers the radio.

“Alright,” he says and tosses the radio into the grass. “We’ll watch them, take note of their paths and then I’ll write up the report once we’re done.”

“Ain’t you a gentleman.”

“Only the best for my girl.”

His girl. That gets a smile out of you and you raise the binoculars back to your eyes to hide your expression, biting down on your lip.

“You hiding from me, baby?” he asks, and you can just hear the smug smirk in his tone.

When you say nothing, feeling the heat creep higher into your cheeks, Manny plucks the binoculars from you, and takes your chin to turn your head towards him, pressing his lips to yours. You chase his lips with your own and Manny moves to roll you onto your back hidden with the greenery, letting out a soft gasp as your back hits the dirt.

“Manny!” you exclaim in a hushed tone, grinning at him.

“Shh, cariño, you want them to hear us?” he whispers against your lips, trailing a hot path of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He props himself up on his forearm, hovering over you and the other hand caresses over your shoulder, to your jacket zipper.

Another gasp leaves you as you feel his warm palm on your stomach, pushing your shirt up and lowering his head to run his tongue on your heated skin.

“Here?” you whisper to him, pushing a piece of damp curl of hair from his face. “You’re doing this here?”

“Why not? Not like anything interesting is going on over there,” he replies, deft fingers already working at the button of your pants. “Besides, my girl looks cute when she’s all flustered.”

You tug on his hair, urgently wanting to feel his lips on yours again. He grins and pulls back with heat in eyes and then delicately kisses, you slow and languid, the complete opposite of what you were aiming for. It keeps you distracted enough to not notice his wandering hand, and you sigh when his fingers dip below the waistband of your underwear, trailing along your wet seam.

“Your hands, Manny,” you groan, “God, I’m obsessed with what your hands can do.”

“Just my hands, huh?” he teases you, dragging his middle finger down through your folds, gathering your arousal. He keeps his movements slow, deliberate, watching your every move. “And there was me thinking you liked me.”

He drags his finger, torturously slow, up to your clit and rubs cruel, teasing circles that leave you breathless. His smile widens, and leans down to whisper in your ear. “You do like more than just my fingers, right cariño?”

You nod, squirming beneath him as he moves his fingers in a tantalising pattern. “Say it,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you gasp, “Course I fucking do.”

Manny smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He pulls his finger back, over your wetness and then slowly pushes the digit inside of you, feeling how your tightness envelopes him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, stroking your walls and pulling all the way out and back in, stretching you open.

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, opening your legs wider and arching your back as he curls his finger in just the right way that has you wanting more.

“God, I wish I could taste you,” he murmurs, pressing you hard against the grass and attaching his lips to your neck. He pulls his finger out, dragging it through your wet folds, teasing and playing with you. Then a second digit joins and your eyes flutter, mouth hanging open as he fucks you open with his fingers.

“Manny,” you moan as your eyes flutter at the sensation. He knows just how to touch you, what makes you shiver and cry out his name. You curl your fingers into the front of his jacket, the other hand cupping his hard length through his pants and he lets out a raspy groan, hips rocking into your palm.

“This is about you, baby,” he tells you, though his voice is rough and breathy. “Let me do this for you.”

You realise very quickly that you’re helpless in his hands. His teeth nipping at your neck, sure to leave marks, his eye on you. Every step of the way he keeps fixated on you. His fingers move rhythmically, finding a brutal pace that has you crying out for more.

It’s his thumb that does you in. Pulling his hand back slightly to get the angle, thumb moving in tight circles on your clit, all the while praising you in whispered Spanish.

Pressure, hot, tight, coiling pressure builds in your stomach, a feeling that you want to chase and chase as it gets hotter, burning through you and Manny catches on quickly to what’s about to happen as his fingers move faster, with more urgency and his thumb rubs deliciously on your clit – finally letting your bathe in that high as it hits you.

Manny works you through, his dark eyes sparkling in wonder as you come on his fingers, hips rolling to chase the feeling for as long as you can.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he grunts out as you pant and keen, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Look at you.”

He’s beaming down at you, and you smile, eyes half lidded and breaths coming in heavy. He leans down, softly kissing you while pulling his fingers out of you and buttoning up your pants.

“Alvarez,” the radio thrown in the grass crackles and Manny starts, reaching for it to turn down the crackling static. “Alvarez, this is Boyle, come in.”

“Yeah, I’m here, give me a fucking second,” he mutters, using his clean hand to find the radio. “What?”

“Scars sighted coming your way. Both of you, get out of there while you can. Regroup at the old FEDRA checkpoint.”

“Copy that.”

He tucks the radio back into his belt and gives you an apologetic kiss to your cheek, “Guess the afterglow was kinda ruined, huh?” he jokes, getting to his feet and wiping his hand on his pants, leaving a glistening trail over his thigh.

He helps you up as you stare at the patch, and you would kiss him again. If only it weren’t for the whistle of a Scar and the whizz of an arrow that barely misses your left arm.

Getting called up to the FOB was never high up on your to-do list, and lucky for you it was only a rare occurrence that Isaac personally asked for you. You could count the amount of times you’d walked through the door to the once high-rise apartment block, echoes of screams and the smell of rot invading your senses. At least this time you were given some warning, quickly scribbling out a note and passing by Manny’s room, slotting the piece of paper underneath.

Right now, up high in the room that Isaac had relented and given you for the few days, all of that was drowned out – window cracked open to air out the room and a thick layer of dust coating the counter-tops. The only high point was that you weren’t here for long. The FOB was intense, a certain hum in the air of impending doom, so when you got back to your room – three days in, feeling like you couldn’t breathe you almost missed the crumpled slip of paper under your door.

Wiping your hands on an old rag for what must be the hundredth time you picked it up, oil stained fingerprints instantly smearing the paper as you unfold it, turning it right way up.

Hideout at sundown.

Firstly, when the fuck did Manny get called up to the FOB? And Secondly, how haven’t you managed to spot him yet?

You read over the note again, following the loop of his messy handwriting and shove it deep into your pocket. You’ve never been to his hideout before, but he’d told you enough to work out the route to get there – if you weren’t spotted first.

Time ticked by, even slower than usual until the sun started to set. You slipped out of the apartment window, being careful to not let it close all the way and sneaking around to the back of the FOB building. The path was overgrown, but that only meant that you were going in the right direction. You hop, almost losing your balance as the stairs give out under you. Three doors in front of you, and your best guess is the one directly ahead.

Inside, the whole place is aglow with the setting sun and the if the manga on the counter is anything to go by, you’re definitely in the right place. The space he’s created for himself is untidy, just how you pictured it but not messy. Stacks of old comics and card games litter the battered coffee table, mismatched blankets strewn over the couch and empty bottles sit nestled by the door. It’s almost too much pre-outbreak to you, the casual-ness of it all.

“Manny?” you call out softly, running your hand along the old dresser on the side. “You here?”

“Right here, cariño,” he replies, coming out of what must be a bedroom, given that his hair is all mussed and clothes rumpled. He takes your hand, lips against your knuckles. “You find the place okay?”

“Yeah, you breathe, letting out a long exhale, your eyes on him as he kisses up your wrist. “What are you doing here, at the FOB?”

“Isaac called us up. Jordan, Abby and me. We’re being sent out on a recon scout tomorrow morning.”

“A recon scout?”

“He wants us to get into a scar camp, take what intel we can, and report back. He thinks they are plotting some big attack on us soon.”

“The guns,” you say softly, “he’s tasked me with upgrading them with silencers and better capacity in the clips.”

Manny nods, expression sombre and then he swoops in, finally pressing his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips to bring you flush against him. The kiss is consuming, his tongue mapping out your mouth, memorising you in wake of tomorrow.

“This way,” he murmurs, walking you backwards into the room he came from, hands easily flipping the hem of your shirt up, making you shiver as he caresses over your bare hips. “I missed you.”

“Such a sap,” you chide, kicking the door closed with your heel.

“Maybe. Maybe I just can’t get enough of you.”

You paw at his shirt, pulling it over his head and run your hands over his defined chest. His answer to this is to pull off your own shirt, unhooking your bra and throwing it carelessly to the side while he gets a good look at you. His mouth finds your breast, taking the hardened nipple into his mouth and lavishing it with attention.

You let out a string of soft, breathy noises, cupping the back of his head to keep him close and the other hand unbuckling his belt, pulling the coarse canvas away and letting it join the growing pile of clothes.

“Been thinking about you ever since you left me that note,” he murmurs, string of saliva between his lips and your nipple before paying attention to the other, the more sensitive of the two.

A gasp leaves you, head tilting back and you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, keeping him in place as he lavishes attention on your nipple. His hand skates down your leg, gripping it and moving it to hook around his hip.

You can’t help but grind yourself against him and he pulls away from your breast to grin at you and then sink his teeth into the heated skin of your neck, hands grabbing whatever they can of you and holding you as close as possible.

He maneuvers you down onto the bed, pulling off your shirt as you lay back and while you unbutton your pants he pauses for a moment, lips slick and hair mussed just watching you.

“Fuck me, I’m so lucky,” he murmurs and he unbuckles his belt, shucking off his cargos, revealing the impressive bulge of him tented against his boxers, a dark spot of precum seeping into the fabric.

The sight of him sends a wave of desire through you and you reach out for him, scratching your nails over his hip and he leans down, claiming your lips with your own once more. You both get caught up in the kiss, both wanting this after days being apart and the impending question mark that hangs over tomorrow.

He moves you so you’re now on top of him, guiding your knees to either side of his hips and letting you rock down against him. The pull of his clothed cock against your heat is a delicious friction that you can’t seem to get enough of.

“That’s it,” he grunts, squeezing your hips and trailing his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. You quickly get with the picture, moving away from Manny to take them off, throwing them to join your pile of clothes.

“Like what you see?” you ask, fully naked in front of him.

“Very much so.”

Manny lifts his hips and you pull off his boxers, hard length springing free, precum smearing over his stomach. You bite your lip and climb back over him, taking his length in your hand.

“Mierda,” he sighs, lifting his hips to fuck your fist. You grin at him, gathering the precum at his tip and coating it over the rest of his cock. “You gonna ride me, baby?”

“Mhm, that’s the plan.” you whisper and Manny moans, rasping and low, in the back of his throat.

Manny breathes heavily through his nose, his hands can’t seem to stop touching you. Running over your thighs, your hips and your waist, thumbing circles on your skin that have you shivering with arousal.

You swing your leg over his hip, back in the same position you were originally in. Manny’s hand drops from your waist to touch himself, jaw slack and eyes stuck on you. He’s beautiful like this, so openly devoted to you and waiting for your next move.

He lines himself up with you, breathing hard and you duck your head down to kiss him sweetly as you ever so slowly sink down onto his cock. Normally, you’d want to drag this out and he’d get you to least two orgasms before fucking you.

But you’re pent up and oh so fucking wet and you can’t help yourself. It’s not like Manny seems to mind, guiding your hips down onto him, teeth biting into his bottom lip and his long eyelashes fluttering as you fully seat yourself onto his cock.

“Take me so well, baby-girl,” he mutters, because Manny does not know when to stop, running his mouth with praise and sweet nothings.

God, you feel so full when you take him like this. Heat creeping up your spine as you give an experimental rock of your hips.

“Fuck, Manny,” you moan, finding purchase with your hands on his shoulder. He starts to thrust up into you, changing the pace to something desperate.

“Again. Say my name again.”

“Manny.”

He leans up, cupping the back of your neck and kissing you fervently, tongue diving into your mouth, mapping out every inch of you, committing it to memory. It makes you roll your hips slower and he pulls back, dark eyes meeting yours.

“Tan hermosa,” he mumbles to himself. “Tan buena para mi.”

He pulls out, brows pinched in concentration and grabs your hips, throwing you down onto the bed, switching your position. He puts one of your ankles over his shoulder and fucks into you faster, hips snapping brutally against your own, filling the room with the lewd slap of skin on skin.

The new angle does something for you. Every thrust of his cock hitting you perfectly, making your eyes roll back and your whimpers become high and raspy in your throat.

“Oh my– fuck!” you cry out, feeling your orgasm approaching, the familiar pooling in your stomach. “Fuck, keep going.”

“Yeah, you’re close aren’t you?” he moans, lips against your ankle as he thrusts his hips harder, driving into you with a renewed intensity. “Yeah, you’re fucking close.”

You let yourself go, pleasure tingling through your veins as you spasm around his cock. A whine leaves your throat, eyes screwed up as he fucks you through it, unrelenting pace and lips on your leg, murmuring how good you are.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, so fucking pretty when you come.”

He slows, dropping your ankle from his shoulder and he swiftly pulls out once more. You whimper at the loss, reaching out for him and he links your fingers with one hand while the other strokes himself rapidly, hand flying over his cock.

Manny throws his head back, hand faltering and you feel him climax, splattering onto your thighs and you let out a breath, watching him reverently.

“You’re so fucking good for me,” he murmurs, guiding you to lay next to him, eyes heavy and a dopey smile plastered on his face. He rests his head on your shoulder, lips soft against your skin.

You huff, leaning over him to grab an old shirt of his and as you move to wipe it over him, he takes it from you, hands on yours.

“Let me,” he says and wipes at your inner thighs, over your stomach and then himself. He tosses it into the corner of the room and presses a faint kiss to your forehead. “Did I tell you that I missed you?”

“You might’ve mentioned it,” you whisper, smiling at him and settling down, hand playing with his curls, his hand on your thigh and bringing the threadbare blanket up to cover you both.

You found when you first spent the night with him that Manny’s a cuddler in his sleep. It was cute, finding yourself wrapped around each other, both of you getting as close as you can even unconsciously. This morning was no different – limbs tangled together, an arm slung around your waist, legs entwined with your own and his head in the crook of your neck, soft breaths against your shoulder.

You move your hand over his back, fingertips dancing up over divots in his muscles and you lace your fingers in his hair, letting the curls free in the pale morning light. Sunlight streams in through the gap in the blinds, soft yellow rays catching on the dust and coating the bed in warm haze. You smile against his hair, closing your eyes at how content you feel.

Manny stirs, the watch on his wrist beeping incessantly. The sound too loud and too jarring in the fresh morning peace. He fumbles, hands moving away from you as he struggles to turn it off then he slumps back down onto you, warm hands wrapping back around your waist, pressing against you.

His lips are soft as they place absent kisses along your shoulder, over the dip in your collarbones and to the sensitive juncture of your neck.

“Morning, querida,” he murmurs, voice thick and raspy with sleep. A sound that you’re more than used too but doesn’t stop the swoop in your stomach.

“Hi,” you grin at him, tilting your head to meet his lips in a soft, lazy kiss. His eyes flutter and he grins into your mouth.

“God, I wish I didn’t have to go out on this recon run. Not now when I know what you sound like.”

You chuckle quietly, his thumb resting on your cheek as he looks at you reverently, like you held the sun for him.

“I can be here when you get back. I’m supposed to be heading back to the stadium later tonight.”

Manny groans and leans in, lips pressing to yours as his eyes close and sighs, breath fanning against your cheek.

“You’ll wait for me?”

“Always.”

#my fics #discodinosaur #fic: talk so sweet #manny x reader #manny alvarez x reader #manny alvarez x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us manny #the last of us fanfiction

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maudie-duan · 4 months ago

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Summary: You were an almost lover, now a hushed whisper in the dark when his Ex moves back to town. Nothing is worse than a love triangle you weren't expecting--old flames, new love, and lingering feelings, but who's the real winner when everyone gets hurt? Trope: Friends To Lovers X Love Triangle Pairing: Prince Harry Styles X (Fem)Reader X Ex-Girlfriend Taglist: Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged for this series. Warnings: All Angst, Mild Spice. Type: Three-Part Mini-Series A/N: You guys asked for ANGST!!!!!!! So now I'm delivering. This will be a little spin-off from The Sabrina Series<- but still the same concept, just roping together three songs. Requested by @shaeeggsstuff @run-for-the-hills @spinninc

POV: You

What's your side of the story? How did you even get mixed up in this tangled web of devastation?

Part One<-

POV: Ex-Girlfriend (Leah)

Some people need a villain. There are two sides to every story, and now there will be three.

Part Two<-

POV: Harry

Love is complicated, especially when love has Harry torn between his past and present. How does he decide if the weight of his history with his Ex(Leah) outweighs his future with you, and when Leah comes back, and those same toxic patterns start playing on repeat, will history be worth repeating??

Part Three<-

POV: You

BONUS PART!!!

What's left after the confusion of feelings, when the domino effect has been triggered, and everyone is left in the aftermath of what was.

Part Four<-

A/N: You guys!!!!! I'm so fucking excited about this one. I forgot how much I LOVE writing angst. You're in for a treat!

The Sabrina Series Masterlist<-

My Tiny Masterlist<-

Chat with me!<-

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futfemfantasies · 3 months ago

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Red cards to red hearts ~ Steph Catley x Dutch!reader

There was a request for this but I can't find it so I hope whoever requested this loves it!!

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When the January window opened, it took less than 72 hours for the news to explode across every football headline in Europe.

“Arsenal Breaks Transfer Record for Dutch Star Y/N Y/LN”

You were used to making noise — your style of play, sharp tongue, and relentless work ethic had always put you under the spotlight. But nothing quite matched the storm you walked into when you stepped into Arsenal’s training ground for the first time.

It wasn't just the cameras or the price tag.

It was her.

Steph Catley stood near the touchline, arms crossed, lips pressed into a tight line.

She didn’t smile.

Didn’t nod.

Just watched you with the kind of scrutiny that peeled layers off your confidence.

You gave her a cold smirk. “Miss me?”

“Hardly,” she replied, her Aussie accent as crisp as the January air.

The tension was immediate. In the locker room, your locker was two down from hers. In training, you found yourselves side by side more often than not. And when Reneé paired you up for drills, the eye rolls were theatrical.

“Again?” you muttered one morning, ball under your foot.

She shrugged. “If we can’t get chemistry, maybe we can get combustion.”

The team had started betting on who would snap first. You argued over passes. You shouted during 5v5s. One time, you almost came to blows over a mistimed overlap. Lia had to step between you. Caitlin started bringing popcorn to watch.

But something strange started happening.

You noticed how Steph stayed after training, perfecting crosses when everyone else had gone home. How she’d quietly pull the younger players aside to give them pointers.

And maybe she noticed you too — how you drove yourself until your legs gave out, how you studied film late into the night, how you covered her when she overcommitted in a match without saying a word.

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

One rainy Thursday, you finally clicked.

You were paired in a full-pitch scrimmage. She overlapped, and without thinking, you curved the ball perfectly into her stride. She didn’t look — she just knew it would be there. A low cross. Goal. Clean. Clinical. Magic.

Everyone paused.

“About bloody time,” Leah mumbled.

You glanced at Steph. She was breathing hard, rain streaking her face, but there was a flicker of something different in her eyes.

Respect. Maybe even… curiosity.

Later that day, in the physio room, she sat on the table beside yours, sipping from her bottle.

“You played well today,” she said, almost casually.

You arched a brow. “You saying that to be nice, or because it’s true?”

She smirked. “Both.”

You held her gaze a beat longer than necessary. “You’re not so bad yourself, Catley.”

That was the start.

The bickering didn’t stop. But it changed. Teammates stopped groaning when you got paired together. You started syncing.

And somewhere between stolen glances in the locker room, a shared laugh after a win, and a quiet moment in the tunnel before a big match — the line between rivalry and something else began to blur.

It started with a harmless mistake.

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

The team had a community outreach event — a local coaching clinic for girls aged 10–14. A chance to give back, sign shirts, run a few drills, and pose for photos. Light work after a heavy week of matches.

You were supposed to be paired with Lotte.

Steph was supposed to be with Viv.

But a last-minute reshuffle — someone missed a flight, someone else had the flu — and somehow, you and Steph ended up assigned to the same group.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned, clutching the clipboard when the coordinator told you.

Steph laughed under her breath. “What, afraid I’ll show you up in front of a bunch of kids?”

You shot her a look. “Please. I’ve got better jokes.”

“Doubt it.”

The drills started fine. You were both professionals, after all. But the dynamic quickly turned chaotic — you’d set up a passing relay, Steph had already started a mini scrimmage. You were explaining shooting form, she was off letting the girls take penalty kicks. It was messy.

Until one of the girls tugged at your sleeve.

“Why do you two hate each other?”

You blinked.

“We don’t—” you started.

“We don’t hate each other,” Steph cut in, quickly. “We just… argue a lot.”

“Like a married couple,” another girl giggled.

You and Steph spoke at the same time.

“No—” “Definitely not.”

But the damage was done. The kids whispered and giggled for the rest of the session, clearly entertained. You tried to shake it off, but that lingering question stuck with you.

Why did you bicker so much?

When the clinic ended, the team started packing up, heading back to the vans.

You went to retrieve a bag of cones from the far end of the pitch, and Steph came too, silently walking beside you. The clouds had darkened, and rain started to spit from the sky.

“Look,” she said suddenly, “about earlier—what the girl said.”

You raised a brow, half-amused. “Which part? The hating each other, or the being married part?”

Steph huffed a soft laugh. “Both.”

You paused near the edge of the small equipment shed, wiping rain from your face. “It’s not hate,” you said quietly. “Not really. You just… get under my skin.”

Her eyes met yours. There was no smirk this time. “Yeah. Same.”

Then the sky opened up, full-on rain now, and you both bolted into the nearby shed for cover. You pulled the door shut behind you, the tiny space barely enough for one of you to stand comfortably, let alone two.

The sound of the storm roared outside. You were close, her arm brushing yours, breath warm in the chilly air.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, glaring at the rain.

“You’re the one who forgot a jacket.”

“You could’ve reminded me.”

Steph turned her head to look at you, her expression softening. “You always act like you don’t need help.”

You swallowed. “And you always act like you’ve got everything figured out.”

Silence. Then Steph’s voice, quieter now.

“You ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d started on the same team? From the beginning?”

You turned your head toward her. “I think… we would’ve still fought.”

She smiled. “Probably.”

“But maybe,” you added, “we wouldn’t have waited this long to figure each other out.”

She didn’t say anything. Just looked at you like she was seeing you — not the rival, not the challenge. You.

And you realized you weren’t trying to win anymore.

You just wanted more time.

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

The rain had cleared by morning, leaving the pitch slick and glistening under a watery sun. Training resumed as usual — rondos, pressing drills, short-sided games. But something was… different.

Not in the drills.

Not in the tactics.

In you.

And in Steph.

You passed to her more — not just out of necessity, but intentionally. Smooth, easy touches. She called for the ball with confidence, and you gave it without the snide comments, without hesitation.

You even smiled at each other.

It didn’t take long for the team to pick up on it.

Caitlin nudged Lia mid-drill. “Did Y/N just laugh at something Steph said?”

Lia squinted across the pitch. “I think so. And Steph didn’t even roll her eyes.”

Katie slid over during water break, smirking. “Alright, what’s going on here? You two fall into a love spell or just finally sick of fighting?”

Steph scoffed, uncapping her bottle. “Nothing’s going on.”

You arched a brow. “Can’t two professionals just… grow?”

“Grow?” Beth echoed, strolling over with arms crossed. “Babe, last week you nearly murdered her over a missed backpass.”

“Yeah,” Caitlin added. “And now you're practically finishing each other's sentences.”

Lotte chimed in, sipping from her bottle. “They didn’t even argue during the whole mini match. That’s either progress or witchcraft.”

Kim, ever the captain, wandered over with a knowing grin. “Let me guess. Got locked in a shed during a rainstorm, had a heart-to-heart, now you’re bonded for life?”

You froze.

Steph’s bottle paused halfway to her lips.

“How do you—” you began.

The entire group erupted.

“NO WAY.” “You did?” “Actual rom-com behaviour.” “I knew it!”

Steph turned pink. You stared at the grass, trying not to laugh.

Reneé blew her whistle to call everyone back in, and as the players jogged off, Katie leaned closer and muttered with a grin:

“Just so you know — we’ve already started a betting pool on when one of you finally cracks and kisses the other.”

You rolled your eyes. “You lot need better hobbies.”

Steph didn’t say anything. But as you jogged side by side back to the starting cones, your arms brushed — just slightly — and neither of you pulled away.

That electricity wasn’t sharp anymore.

It was warm. Dangerous.

Comfortable.

And every single person on that pitch felt it.

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

It was late.

Most of the team had filtered out of the training ground hours ago, but you stayed behind. Again.

Your boots were off, socks bunched under your ankles, and you sat on the cold grass just outside the pitch, legs stretched in front of you, head tilted toward the sky. The floodlights were still on but it made the place feel like it existed outside of time.

You heard footsteps behind you.

Didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Steph.

“Thought I’d find you here,” she said, padding softly across the grass.

You smiled without turning. “You’re getting predictable.”

She sat beside you without asking, knees bent, arms resting on top of them. The silence settled between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It hadn’t been for a while now.

You glanced sideways at her. She looked tired. But there was something behind her eyes — not exhaustion. Something sharper. Restless.

She chewed her lip.

You nudged her with your knee. “Out with it.”

Steph looked at you, really looked at you, and then blew out a slow breath.

“I was gonna wait,” she said.

“For what?”

“For it to go away.”

Your brow furrowed. “What to go away?”

She turned toward you, knees shifting so you were nearly facing each other now. Her voice dropped — quiet, but firm.

“This. You. How I feel.”

You froze. Not because you didn’t know — you’d felt the shift, the gravity of it, the way her gaze lingered and her voice softened when she said your name — but hearing it out loud made your chest feel tight.

Steph didn’t stop.

“I thought it was just rivalry. Competition. But it’s not. And I’m tired of pretending it’s not there. Every time we argue, every time we laugh, every time you cover me in a match or look at me like you’re trying to figure out what I’m thinking — I feel it.”

You stared at her.

She exhaled again. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

There was a beat of silence. And then:

“I want to be with you.”

It was the softest thing she’d ever said to you. No edge. No challenge. Just truth.

Your heartbeat roared in your ears.

And then, quietly, you said:

“I thought I was imagining it.”

Steph’s lips curled, just a little. “You weren’t.”

You shifted closer, your leg pressing lightly against hers. You could feel your pulse in your fingertips. “So what now?”

Steph tilted her head. “Well, I could kiss you.”

You smirked. “Could you now?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling now. “I think I could.”

And when she leaned in, it wasn’t frantic or dramatic — it was steady, sure. Like the first pass of a match you’d both been preparing for without even knowing it.

Your lips met hers, and everything else — the pitch, the lights, the world — faded out.

When she finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, you whispered, “This is going to make training so weird tomorrow.”

Steph grinned. “Worth it.”

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

It started with small things.

You and Steph suddenly stopped arguing during drills. No snarky comments, no eye-rolls, not even a single dramatic sigh when paired up for rondos. Instead, it was light touches on the arm, shared glances, and the occasional private smirk that made everyone suspicious.

During a gym session, you were spotting her on bench press and whispered something that made her laugh mid-rep. The kind of laugh that wasn’t for teammates. It was softer.

Lia caught it from across the room, locked eyes with Caitlin, and mouthed: “It’s happening.”

The team didn’t say anything at first — just watched.

Took notes like scientists watching an increasingly obvious nature documentary.

The real crack came two weeks later, after a tight 2–1 win against Chelsea at the Emirates. Everyone was buzzing, high on adrenaline and celebration.

You’d assisted Steph’s game-winning goal and when the final whistle blew, you sprinted straight to her. She turned just in time for you to grab her by the waist, spinning her in a circle.

The crowd roared. The cameras caught it. And Steph?

Steph beamed at you like you’d handed her the entire WSL trophy.

You set her down, tried to walk it off, pretend it was just a normal post-goal celebration. But the damage was done.

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

Back in the locker room, the team was buzzing.

You were toweling off when Katie strolled over, arms folded, a slow grin on her face.

“So. Just checking,” she said loudly, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Are we finally allowed to talk about the fact that you two are secretly dating and doing a terrible job of hiding it?”

You froze mid-motion. Steph, tying her boots nearby, paused and looked at you.

Beth leaned around her locker. “Seriously. You two are so obvious it hurts.”

Caitlin nodded. “Steph has ‘girlfriend smile’ now. It’s a thing.”

“I knew it,” Viv added, pulling out her phone. “We need to check the betting pool. I think I had this week.”

Leah gave a mock round of applause. “To be fair, you lasted longer than we thought. Barely.”

You groaned, pulling your jersey over your head to hide your face. “We weren’t trying to—”

“Be subtle?” Katie interrupted. “Yeah, no. You failed. Spectacularly.”

Steph just shrugged, entirely too calm. “So what if we’re together?”

Silence.

Then Lotte spoke up from the bench. “Honestly? We’re just relieved you stopped threatening to kill each other during passing drills.”

Everyone laughed — even you.

You reached for Steph’s hand under the bench and gave it a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed back.

And even though your secret was officially not a secret anymore, somehow… it felt better this way.

No more pretending. No more holding back.

Just you and Steph — finally on the same side.

#womens soccer #woso soccer #woso x reader #woso imagines #steph catley x reader #woso fanfics

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 year ago

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It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned.

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you.

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself.

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

IF THE GIF DOESN'T WORK FOR YOU: CLICK HERE

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader

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makingshortstorieslong · 2 months ago

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May 2025

currently reading our wives under the sea by julia armfield & had to make a post with the vibes of the first 75 or so pages. have you read this one? what did you think?

#reading journal #our wives under the sea #Don't mind the comment op it's just for my reading journal tag #I really like what you did in the upper left image on this post so I want it for that tag :)#anyway. good book #I did spend a lot of it half thinking half hoping Jelka would come back and also she and Leah were turning into mermaids #or like. Deep Sea Creatures. not like little mermaid type mermaids but just that they would go live under the sea #anyway I do like how it actually ended #Kinda wish we knew what happened to Matteo

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pemiski · 2 months ago

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tags primary teacher! sae x fem! reader, unnecessarily detailed imagery of sae jumpstarting a car because that’s a very beautiful man I do not apologise

author’s note you thought I was never gonna go back to teacher sae again huh?? I know I said I was going to focus on the long fic but I’m unpredictable like that (I’m not I just have no sense of priorities)

The engine gives one last cough before giving up entirely.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

It’s been a long day— the kind that stretches you thin in ways only a classroom full of five-year-olds can. You love them, of course you do, but Leah had knocked over one of the potted plants during morning circle, and you’d spent your entire break sprinting to the nearest grocery in hopes of finding a halfway decent replacement.

Then Tommy cried for a solid twenty minutes because Jerry (the class mascot, a laminated cartoon mouse with googly eyes) had gone missing. You’d promised he’d be back by one, and had in consequence spent most of lunch break crawling on the floor, only to discover Jerry had slipped behind the blackboard, wedged in a place your arm physically cannot reach. Tommy had been inconsolable when you told him.

And now, after knowing you still have a stack of marking waiting for you on the kitchen table, you hear the engine turn over, and it’s just one thing too many.

You’ll figure it out, you tell yourself. Or at least, you’ll pretend to. All it takes is a little poking around under the hood until someone who actually knows what they’re doing shows up, if the universe ever feels like throwing you a bone.

“Car troubles?”

You turn your head, slower than you mean to, but he’s already walking over: Sae Itoshi. Again. The newest addition to the history department, too pretty for someone who talks so little. He waves at a kid being picked up at the curb who was calling out one last ‘have a nice week-end!’, and then crouches beside your car like this is routine.

“Car troubles?” he says again, quieter this time. maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time.

You blink at him. Your brain works overtime to find a response that doesn’t sound utterly foolish. Gosh, this is not the bone you were talking about.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s, um… not starting. But it’s fine. I know a guy around here, so—”

You smile too quickly. You don’t know a guy around here. In fact, you don’t know a single mechanic in the entire city. But you’re not about to let him be the one to open the hood and fix it, because, ultimately, you’re not sure what’s worse— the car dying, or the thought of Sae Itoshi seeing you like this.

“I can take a look. Mechanics don’t come cheap these days anyway,” he says, almost offhandedly. “Save you the money.”

You want to say no. You should. You want to tell him that it’s fine, really, that you’ve got it under control. But the truth is— you don’t. Not really. And living on a primary teacher’s wage doesn’t exactly leave room for breakdowns, let alone the cost of calling someone out to fix them.

“Errr,” you start, hesitating, “alright then. At your heart’s content.”

You say it with a smile, trying to diffuse the tension, but then again, maybe it’s just you masking up your own discomfort. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your car as he turns to look at you and gives you a small smile in return. The kind that makes your chest twist a little too tightly.

He pops the hood like it’s second nature, leans forward, and peers inside. There’s a quiet sort of concentration on his face, and the contracting muscles under his shirt make it impossibly hard to look away.

And then, something shifts, and his brows pull just slightly together.

“When’s the last time you had your car looked at?”

You blink, unsure how to answer. “I don’t… remember? It’s been a while.”

Sae glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raising just slightly. “You know you’re supposed to get it checked every year, right? For MOT?”

Right. The MOT. The mandatory inspection you’ve conveniently pushed to the very back of your mind, somewhere between laundry day and booking a dentist appointment.

“Technically, yes,” you mumble. “Practically, I might’ve forgotten.”

He huffs a soft breath, something between amusement and disbelief, and turns back to the engine. Your heart is still tapping nervously against your ribs, and his slight snicker does nothing to quell said tapping.

You’re standing off to the side, arms crossed loosely over your chest. It’s cooler out than it was earlier, but the sun is still bright and gleams down at your car.

Sae doesn’t say much while he works— not that you expect him to, anyway— and stands with his weight leaned into the open hood, one hand braced against the frame, the other reaching down to fiddle with something you don’t recognize. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing every time he moves.

You try not to stare. You do. But it’s hard not to notice the way his jaw tenses when he leans forward, or the way his shirt lifts slightly when he shifts to one side. He’s always been a little unreadable, but right now, he feels almost close. Like someone you could touch if you weren’t so afraid of what that might do to you.

Eventually, he steps back, letting the hood fall shut with a soft clunk. He turns to you, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Should be alright for now,” he says, tone as neutral as ever. “But don’t forget to check it out.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The car,” he repeats. A beat passes, and then, slightly softer, “Don’t forget to have it checked out.”

Oh. Right.

The car.

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queen-of-reptiles · 9 months ago

Text

𝙱𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂

description: In which Georgia Stanway and Leah Williamson’s younger sister are just best friends… right?

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part one of the best friends series

mapi part one here (hidden universe)

ona part one here (hidden universe)

georgia stanway x female williamson!reader

disclaimer: I am in now way saying Georgia is bi-sexual or lesbian, this is all fiction

warnings: honestly not many, a couple of swear words maybe? a mini make out sesh, angst, fluff and google translate german (sorry) xx

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y/n just posted

liked by stanwaygeorgia, lucybronze and 499, 244 others

tagged fcbfrauen, stanwaygeorgia and 12 others

y/n Baby England knows how to party ;)

see all 12, 333 comments

username1: she is ICONIC 😍😍

username2: THAT SECOND GOAL WAS UGHHH

Lj10: superstarrr 🌟🌟

y/n: was taking lessons off you ig

lucybronze: Naaaa it was me 😉

y/n: acc it was Keira and LJ 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lucybronze: You're so lovely to me

y/n: 🩷🩷

username3: love the fact Bayern bought her and Georgia and went on to win the league!

fcbfrauen: ❤️❤️

y/n: ❤️❤️

username4: I wonder if she misses playing with Leah??

username5: well they will be playing together in the WWC and England international games so idk

username6: besides, she might switch back to Arsenal as she only signed on for one season at Bayern!!

leahwilliamsonn: You missed ya first one!

y/n: you miss every one

leahwilliamsonn: come at me pipsqueak - if you can from that height!

y/n: Say goodbye to your kneecaps !

leahwilliamsonn: 💕

y/n: 💕

username7: HHAAHAHAHAH

stanwaygeorgia: she can't dance btw

y/n: salty cause she lost just dance 😙

stanwaygeorgia: TAKE IT BACK

y/n: NO

stanwaygeorgia: TAKE IT BACK!

username8: bestie goals right there

see more comments...

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y/n loved to party, that was so obvious to everyone who knew her. Especially when she felt it was as earned as they winning the league party felt the night before.

To win and beat Wolfsburg to that number one spot, to have automatic qualification for the next Champions League, it just felt right and normal for a party.

What also felt right, was her arm curled around y/n's waist, the feeling of her naked skin pressed into y/n's as she slept, trying to put off the hangover for as long as possible.

Best friends. They fuck when they get drunk yeah? Or when they're not drunk and just feel like it. They were best friends, and they needed to help each other out. It was normal.

It was not normal.

y/n knew as she crept from Georgia's room and into her own - considering they lived together - that what they were doing was not what best friends did.

y/n knew that best friends did not make such changing decisions as she did for Georgia, she knew that best friends were supposed to love each other, but not be in love with each other.

So why was she in love with Georgia?

y/n knew what would happen. Georgia would be up in half an hour, always coming too once y/n no longer held her, she would cook them breakfast, and ignore what had happened.

It killed y/n. It truly truly killed her. How could she just ignore everything they had done last night, every loving touch, every kiss, moan and climax.

But she did, and so would y/n. And in two weeks when it would happen again, y/n would be there, on her knees for her and crawling back like she always did.

They would go back to camp for the world cup, y/n's sister Leah would captain them and everyone would be oblivious to the fact y/n was drowning in Georgia.

y/n sighed, running a hand over her face and climbing into the shower, trying to wash the feel of Georgia's hands from her body. It didn't work.

Then she changed, pulling on some jeans and a shirt before grabbing her fanny pack, phone and head phones and pulling on her trainers, moving into the kitchen where Georgia stood making them coffee.

"Mornin'!" Georgia smiled.

"Coffee?" She asks, holding the cup up but y/n shakes her head.

"I'm going to meet up with Syd. Sorry G." y/n smiles, ignoring how her heart broke at Georgia's relaxed smile, not even mentioning the fact she was in y/n's shirt.

"Okay, when will you be back?" Georgia asks and y/n sucks in a deep breath as she shrugs.

"Dunno. Sydney said she'd help me revise." y/n explains as she picks up her tote back from the bag hook, her revision for her sports science degree inside.

"Oh, I can help!" Georgia smiles, knowing it was something she usually did.

"It's okay, Syd and I have got it." y/n smiles. "Have a nice day." She adds.

"Don't be home too late!" Georgia smiles as y/n rushed out the door, her house keys on the hook. "I love you." Georgia sighs sadly to the empty flat, before she sighs and leans over the counter.

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y/n just posted on her story x 2

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y/n and Sydney were laid out on the blonde's sofa, y/n having texted Georgia saying she would have dinner at Sydney's, unknowingly disappointing the light brunette back at their apartment, who had spent the day watching the door longingly as she tried to get chores done.

y/n and Sydney were watching a TV show y/n had begged Sydney to watch called Humans, the German saying she wouldn't like it but now being as obsessed as y/n was.

"Will you ever tell Georgia?" Sydney asked aloud, being the only person to know y/n's current dilemma as the two were very close.

"I don't know Syd." y/n sighed and Sydney sent her a look.

"Warum weißt du es nicht?" Sydney asked with a scoff.

Why don't you know?

"Because it is not that simple!" y/n chides, Sydney sending her a look which said say it in German. "Weil es nicht so einfach ist." y/n repeats and Sydney nods.

"Maybe not, but the way you both look at each other is clear." Sydney denies and y/n sighs.

"And how is that?" y/n asks with an eye roll and Sydney glares at her.

"Like you two are each other's reason for breathing." Sydney states and y/n snorts and shoves her.

"You Germans are so fucking poetic." y/n says before checking her phone and sighing. "I need to get home." She hums and Sydney rolls her eyes.

"No you need to avoid this conversation." She says as y/n grabs her bag.

"Huh, look at the time. Love you." y/n says, dragging out the 'you' as she gets to the door.

"Love you too." Sydney calls as y/n leaves. "Dummes Mädchen." She then mutters.

Stupid girl.

y/n slides her headphones on, happily walking the ten minutes back to her and Georgia's in the slowly setting spring German sun. She got to the door, sighing as she realised she didn't have her key.

y/n knocked on the door, straining her ears as she tried to hear Georgia's padding footsteps but didn't hear anything. y/n texted the girl, confused at her lack of response considering it was only 8:34 pm.

When she didn't reply, y/n called her twice both times the phone ringing out to voicemail as the phone was outside the shower which Georgia was currently in, trying to forget about the way y/n's lips felt.

y/n waited, for ten minutes outside their house, sighing as she slid against the door and called her sister instead, watching the phone ring out before the blonde picked up with a grin.

"Hey baby sis!" Leah grinned, smiling at her sister who grinned widely back.

"Hey Lee." y/n smiled, her head lent back against the door as she watched her sister's smiling face. "You look happy." y/n chuckles and Leah grins.

"Of course, I see you tomorrow!" Leah grins and y/n can't help but smile.

"I can't wait to see you either Lee." y/n smiles widely and her sister lets out a shriek as her body is pushed to the side.

"Baby Williamson!" A cheer echoes. Mary Earps pushing herself into frame.

The players who play in the WSL had gotten to camp two days ago, the women who play abroad all now waiting to join at camp after their later games.

That included, Keira, Lucy, who played at Barcelona and y/n and Georgia, who played at Bayern, all four having made it into the squad and all travelling over tomorrow.

"Mary! Hi!" y/n grins, Leah huffing as Mary snatches her phone away.

"I saw that off the line clearance from you yesterday, we'll make a keeper of you yet." Mary grins. y/n can't help but let out a laugh at that and someone calls Mary from off camera.

"Go on, go help whoever needs it." y/n laughs at the keeper who grins and presses a kiss to the camera.

"I'll see you soon!" Mary calls before handing the phone back to Leah and running off, Leah rolling her eyes as her sister chuckles.

"What are you doing?" Leah asks her sister who sighs.

"Forgot my key, so waiting for G to let me in the fucking flat." y/n groans and Leah chuckles, though she looks confused that the two weren't together. "I was at Sydney's." y/n explains.

"Oi oi." Leah grins, wiggling her brows and y/n glares at her.

"Shut up!" y/n laughs, knowing she and Sydney were just friends. y/n goes to say something but the door unlocks and y/n sighs in relief.

"You go and get packed missy." Leah says and y/n mockingly salutes. "I love you." Leah adds and y/n smiles.

"I love you too Lee." y/n smiles at her, before she hangs up and walks into the apartment, Georgia was stood awkwardly by the door, wet hair hanging over her shoulders.

"Sorry, I uh, was in the shower." Georgia apologises, and y/n shrugs as she sends her a small smile.

"It's okay, I should have remembered my keys." y/n nods. "I was on facetime to Leah anyway." y/n explains as she places her bag down.

"How was Sydney?" Georgia asks awkwardly as y/n walks into her room where her suitcase is half packed.

"Yeah great, we got through a lot." y/n smiles happily as she digs through her closet to find more clothes.

"Good, good." Georgia nods, awkwardly stood in the doorway of y/n's bedroom.

A silence settled across the two, and usually neither would mind that, because they could be in silence together but would like it, because they were together.

However, this silence was pregnant with awkwardness, tension thick in the room as Georgia watched as y/n continued packing, trying to avoid looking at her.

"Why won't ya look at me?" Georgia asks and y/n tense, sending a quick look at Georgia.

"I am, but I need to pack G." y/n says and Georgia scoffs.

"You ain't looking at me!" Georgia denies and y/n throws her trainers down as she turns and folds her arms, looking at Georgia.

Their eyes meet, holding their stares as they both watch each other for a moment before Georgia scoffs at the cold stare being held between them and turns and walks out.

y/n listens to her go and jumps when Georgia's door slams shut, her head dropping as she sighs and shuts her own door quietly, she then sits against her bed and falls back.

Love sucked.

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y/n hadn't been able to sleep. She put her phone down nearly an hour ago at half eleven, but sleep hadn't been kind enough to save her from over-thinking.

She was on her side, back to the door, almost as if she was trying to forget that across the hall Georgia was probably asleep. Getting energy before flying tomorrow.

Slowly, there was a creak behind her and y/n stopped breathing, holding the air in her lungs as her door shut again and a body slid into bed behind her.

Georgia's arm slowly curled around her waist and y/n sighed, turning onto her other side so they could at least face one another. y/n couldn't see her, it was too dark.

But they both knew their eyes were open as they stared into the dark of the room. Georgia's hand was resting against the dip in y/n's waist, y/n's hand was close to Georgia's chest.

There was no sound other than the quiet breathing, the small breaths blowing in and out softly as they laid together. Slowly, Georgia's head moved, her breath now pushing against y/n cheek.

She stopped, lips just centimetres away as she gave y/n enough time to push her off, to shove her away. However, y/n's hand came up to slide up Georgia's chest and onto the back of the neck.

The moved in sync, lips colliding softly as the room suddenly filled with sound of smacking lips and breathy moans. y/n's hand tightening on the back of Georgia's neck, pulling her closer.

Georgia pushed up, leg swinging over y/n as her arms held her above her, lips never breaking as their tongues tangled together, tasting every section they could.

y/n sat up slightly, pulling Georgia closer to her as her other hand pushed at her back, mounting Georgia onto her lap as y/n's back hit the wall.

Georgia's hands slid around her shoulders, fingers playing with the baby hairs on the back of y/n's neck. y/n sighed into the kiss, knowing where it would lead as Georgia pulled away.

"We should get some sleep." Georgia says quietly, settling down into y/n's side.

y/n paused, shock running through her veins because a kiss like that always led to something more.

"Yeah, okay." y/n whispers, settling further into her pillow as she pulls Georgia closer, nose buried into her head as she inhaled Georgia's shampoo.

y/n's eyes quickly become heavy with sleep, Georgia's warmth and body weight pressing into her finally helping her brain shut off, and in the silence of the room, the two fell asleep embraced.

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The next morning y/n woke up alone. Her phone blaring her alarm and as the two girls got ready for the day it was like another heartbreak to know they had slipped into their old routine.

She and Georgia joked like friends, not mentioning the night before as they shuffled out of their apartment and locked the door, Georgia letting out a shocked shout at the person waiting for them.

"Sydney!" y/n grins, rushing over to hug the blonde.

"I wanted to say goodbye!" Sydney smiles. "I will see you soon, I'm sure." She adds. y/n chuckles and squeezes the blonde once more as Sydney then hugs Georgia.

The taxi pulls up and Sydney pulls y/n to the side, Georgia rolling her eyes as she is left to help the driver pack their cases away.

"Tell her." Sydney says quietly, her back facing Georgia. "Just tell her." She adds.

"But Syd." y/n sighs and Sydney sends her a look. "I'm so sacred." y/n admits and Sydney giggles and brings y/n into a hug.

"Everyone's scared y/n, but if there is one person who can deal with fear it's Baby England." Sydney promises and y/n sighs.

"I'll see you soon." y/n promises Sydney who smiles and the two pull away and share another smile.

"We going?" Georgia calls, the girl leant against the car, arms folded and eyes narrowed in annoyance as y/n rolls her eyes.

"Yeah." y/n tells her. "See you soon!" y/n grins at Sydney who waves at her as y/n climbs into the taxi.

"About time." Georgia scoffs before nodding at Sydney although slightly tightly before Georgia sunk into the car and shut the door.

y/n sighs at the girl's attitude but quickly slides her headphones on and easily ignores the glare Georgia sent her way and the driver awkwardly clears his throat as he drives away.

Sydney watches the car go, a wedge of confusion stuck in her at the fact the two girls she played with could not see what she could so clearly.

"Dummes Mädchen. Also offensichtlich eifersüchtig." Sydney can't help but say as she begins to walk home.

Stupid girls. So obviously jealous.

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y/n and Georgia made it to the airport, neither having said a word to the other since the ride began, both placing their headphones on and ignoring the other - anger swirling for reasons neither really understood.

The two checked in their baggage as if they were separate travellers who didn't know each other. They went and got coffees from separate places as if they were not friends.

And when they sat down on the plane, the two turned away and closed their eyes, preparing to sleep the short journey.

"Why are you angry with me?" y/n asked quietly, trying not to be too loud. But Georgia didn't answer, she simply turned to face the window.

y/n sighed, rolling her eyes and leaning down, pulling her eye mask out of her bag and placing Georgia's on her arm, knowing she struggled to sleep on the plane without it.

At the action, Georgia caved and turned to face y/n, but the girl already had her headphones and mask on, and was clearly no longer interested in the conversation.

And as the two sat next to each other, travelling back home to their national camp. Neither had felt so lonely in a long time.

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End of part one

#woso #woso x reader #woso x y/n #social media woso #woso community #woso soccer #england lionesses #lauren james #leah williamson #keira walsh #georgia stanway #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway x y/n #georgia stanway imagine #bayern munich women

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