#So I thought I would get started early to get the ball rolling. I actually managed to keep up with it through the last few days of work

[oscargender]

Made some really good progress on my novella today!!

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[bbydoll18xx]

Plotting and Scheming

Paige Bueckers x reader

When UConn’s wbb team gets tired of Paige’s pining, they concoct a plan to get you into her arms.

Themes: Mutual pining, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 3.3k

I've gotten a lot of love on my other three little fics, so I hope this one is okay, as well. Let me know if you guys have anything specific you'd like me to write!

Here we go!

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You sat on the sidelines of UConn’s basketball court, admiring the girls fiercely practicing. It was still early in the season, but the dream of winning the NCAA championship kept their grit going.

Having met several of the girls on the team early in your college career, the women’s basketball team had adopted you as one of their own. As a nursing student, you were deemed ‘the fixer of boo-boos’ and you were often around to tend to their cuts and scrapes or to answer their ridiculous medical questions.

That’s where it had all started, and you couldn’t believe where you had ended up because of it.

Your eyes bounced back and forth, following the balls and the whipping ponytails. You always felt so much pride watching them; they were your girls.

Your gaze finds Paige, as it always tends to, and you are mesmerized. She runs, throwing the ball from half court and making it into the basket effortlessly. Without thinking, you stand up, whooping and clapping rambunctiously. She makes eye contact with you, sending you a wink and blowing you a kiss dramatically. Your stomach lurches at the display of affection towards you, and you blush, causing you to glance around making sure no one saw.

Your feelings for the tall blonde had only grown as you got to know her throughout the last several years. She made you feel giddy, like a child with a school crush. As much as you enjoyed being her friend, you had wanted something more for a long time now.

You’d never admit that though. To anyone.

The other girls had spent countless hours trying to get you to admit your feelings for Paige. You held firm, though, vehemently denying any pull or attraction. They would over analyze every interaction between the two of you, and they loved the way your cheeks would bloom with pink from Paige’s compliments and affections. 

In fact, they were absolutely sure that the reason you broke up with your douchebag ex-boyfriend, Zach, was because of your feelings for Paige.

They did not need to know that was actually the case, thank you very much.

It had been on the forefront of your thoughts for weeks before the night where everything had finally exploded. 

You had dragged Zach along to the bar where the basketball team was partying it up, hoping your man would distract you from the longingness you felt for your friend. You felt such a pull towards Paige, and it fucking terrified you. 

You had walked into the bar with Zach, his hand around your waist possessively. The touch reminded you of the last time you and Paige had gone out drinking together. Trying to ignore how you wished it was slimmer and more feminine, you had allowed Zach to lead you towards where the team had gathered in a circle. 

The girls cheered as they saw you approach, thrusting a drink into your hand, encouraging you to catch up to their drunkenness. You glanced around, trying to find Paige in the crowd. 

“Well look who it is,” you heard from behind you. Whipping your head around, you were met with the familiar smirk of your favorite blonde.

“Paige!” you exclaimed, running up to give her a hug, eliciting an eye roll from your boyfriend. You pretended you didn’t see it to keep the peace. You melted into Paige’s embrace, feeling more comfortable in the moment than you had in days.

“K, Bueckers, you can get your grimy hands off my fuckin’ girlfriend,” Zach had sniped, walking away. Pretending as if the man did not even exist, Paige had looked down at you with a wide grin. It was getting harder to overlook her effect on both you and your relationship. 

 The rudeness and nastiness directed at Paige had immediately sent you over the edge.

‘How fucking dare he talk to my girl like that,’ you had thought.

In a sudden fury, you stomped over to him, already busy staring lewdly at some girl who was dancing provocatively in front of him. 

“You can fuck off. Paige can put her hands on me any time she’d like. We’re through. Kiss my ass!” you spat. You spun on your heel and marched back towards the team feeling lighter than you had in months.

“Let's do shots!” you screamed, missing the fond look Paige was giving you.

You snap out of your daydream as you see Paige sauntering over to you where you sat in the bleachers.

“Enjoying the show, huh?” she questions smugly. 

Feeling generous, you nod with a genuine smile. “You guys are doing so great already. You’re gonna go far this season; I can feel it.” The candor of your words causes Paige to beam.

“Listen, we’re all getting drinks tonight at Ted’s. You gonna come with us?”

“Oh I don't know, I've got homework and stuff…” you trail off, trying to find a suitable excuse.

Paige all but pouts. “The girls really want you there. They all told me,” she says knowingly. As if she had planned it, Azzi, KK, and Nika walk over to join you two, all sweaty from practice. 

KK all but jumps on you, causing you to groan under the sudden weight of her body being thrown against you.

“Y’all, please convince this one over here to join us tonight,” Paige pleads, turning back toward you with wide eyes.

You giggle as the girls all jump in, interrupting each other in an attempt to persuade you to come out with them.

You cut them off, trying to stop the cacophony that was echoing off the walls of the gym. 

“I would love to come, but I really have a lot of work to catch up on,” you reason. “If I finish up early, I’ll text you, Paige.” 

Paige nods at this, but you don’t miss the glum look that flits across her face. You sigh half-heartedly, suddenly feeling guilty. You hated making excuses. It was just so hard sometimes, liking her.

“Have fun, guys,” you wave before making your exit from the arena.

As you walk back to your dorm, you feel the pit in your stomach grow larger, enveloping you. Of course you wanted to spend time with Paige, but pining mixed with alcohol and the sensual music of a bar would cause cracks in the hard foundation of your skillful indifference. 

You had been perfecting it since freshman year, but with the way Paige had you feeling lately, you knew it wouldn’t take much for everything to come crashing down.

Walking through your door and sitting at your computer, you get to work, trying to distract yourself. After reviewing your notes for the tenth time and finishing your nursing care plan, you glance at the clock.

Fuck.

It was only 10:30. The girls would probably just be arriving at the bar now, and you really wanted to go meet up with them. 

‘Screw it,” you think. You are going to get drunk tonight, and you’re gonna look hot. You whip out your phone and send a quick text to Paige. Your heart races as she instantly responds. You needed to get your shit in order. Your emotions could not get the best of you tonight.

Over at Ted’s, Paige’s bored expression had quickly turned into an excited grin, causing her teammates to exchange looks of interest.

“What’s got you smiling like that, P?” asks Nika.

“More like who,” smirks KK, glancing at Paige’s phone at your text.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Paige grumbles, trying to hide her blush with her drink.

“Oh c’mon, Paige, this crush is getting ridiculous. Just tell the damn girl you like her,” Azzi demands. “We’re all getting tired of watching you pine over her.”

“Pine?” sputters Paige. “I’m hardly pining. If anything, I’m just admiring…” she trails off.

“Sure, P,” KK drawls sarcastically. “Nothing like admiring your friend’s ass.” 

The other girls snort derisively. KK was not at all off base with that observation.

“Whatever, I need another drink,” grumbles Paige. “Gotta be drunk when my friend shows up.”

Paige walks off, and the second her teammates lose sight of her, they circle up to discuss.

“Jesus, we really need to do something to fix this shit,” Ice says firmly. 

“For real, this is straight embarrassing now!” KK agrees loudly.

Azzi contemplates for a second, before a smirk slides onto her face. “I know what we can do. The only way to get Paige to make a move is to make her super jealous. We can all take turns flirting, and boom! We’ll have two happy lovebirds before we even know it!”

The ploy causes the other girls to laugh hysterically, reveling in the idea of a jealous Paige.

“Sounds perfect!” Nika laughs. “Paige is gonna hate us, but she will be fine once she finally admits her feelings.”

The rest of the girls agree, sipping their drinks and taking great pleasure in what would be coming. 

About an hour later, you walk into the bar feeling incredibly anxious. You were confident in the way you looked; tight jeans with rips that allowed the smooth flesh of your upper thigh to peak out, and a top that showed off your curves deliciously. Lips glossy and hair blown out, you were alluring, wanting all eyes on you tonight. You figured if you got hit on enough, you could distract yourself from Paige’s enticement. Little did you know it’d be at the hands of her own teammates.

You stretched your neck, scouring the bar for the basketball team. Considering their height, they were easy to spot. Flouncing over, you are greeted with the loud, drunken cheers of your favorite girls. 

You giggle at their enthusiasm, suddenly feeling more at ease. You look around, trying to spot the long blonde hair and the wide smile that constantly occupies your consciousness. 

“Where’s P?” you ask casually, trying to avoid any suspicion. This causes the faces of the aforementioned teammates to exchange sly glances that immediately have you worried.

“Oh, she's just over by the bar talking to some brunette,” Nika responds, attempting to gauge your reaction. Luckily, you had been training for this over the last several years.

Did it fucking hurt? Sure, it was like you were being stabbed repeatedly with a fucking knife, but no biggie. You could handle it.

“Cool,” you mumble, staying aloof. “I’m gonna grab a drink...”

Your reaction causes the girls to hoot with laughter once you’re out of reach.

“This is so mean. I feel bad,” mutters Caroline. “I thought we were only going to make Paige jealous…”

“It’s more fun this way. It’s like a secret mission!” KK exclaims. “Getting both of them jealous is fuckin’ perfect.”

As you walk over to the bar, you see Paige talking to a girl. She is smiling in a way that had your stomach doing somersaults, and your face screws up into a look of annoyance. Attempting to ignore the obnoxious giggles of the girl Paige was wooing, you flag down the bartender and order a double of your favorite drink. Lord knows you would need the extra alcohol tonight. 

You look around apprehensively, trying to move time forward with your brain. Your sobriety, in addition to the crammed bar, had you feeling panicked. You needed to get away from Paige before you combusted from jealousy.

Thanking the bartender, who finally slides your drink towards you, you head back to the basketball team, eventually catching Paige's attention.

Pretending you didn’t see your blonde best friend, you bring your straw to your lips in a seductive manner, catching it with your tongue and relishing in the way the alcohol begins to cloud your inhibitions. 

Paige trails behind you, desperately trying to avoid staring at your jean-clad ass.

KK doesn’t miss this. Neither does Ice. They share shit-eating grins, making mocking faces towards Paige, who flips them off in return, a look of embarrassment covering her face. 

You finally turn around, giving up your bit of pretend indifference. 

“Oh hey, P,” you say breezily. “Didn’t see you behind me.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi is already wrapping her free hand around your waist, bringing her closer to you. She says, “I missed you. C’mon, let’s go dance.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow, but Azzi is already leading you towards the brightly colored dance floor before she could respond to you. 

“The fuck?” Paige mumbles under her breath as the rest of the team exchanges deranged giggles at her shock.

The truth was that Paige was terrible at sharing. Especially you. Even before she wanted anything more than a friendship with you, Paige slightly resented anyone who took away your time and attention from her. 

The signs were so clear. So fucking clear.

Half of the girls follow you to the dance floor, leaving the others to stay with a pouting Paige. Her reaction to Azzi’s contact gives you the tiniest amount of hope, and it gives you a second wind of confidence. 

You dance with the girls, slightly confused at their antics. You were close with all of them, but the touching and incessant compliments had your head spinning.

What the hell was going on? 

Paige was usually the one clinging to you, wanting to make you blush and giggle. Tonight she was acting like a wounded puppy. Her face continuously flashing between a clenched jaw of annoyance and straight bitterness. 

Your attempts to avoid looking at her were futile. This did not go unnoticed by the team, who looked like they were enjoying your longingness way too much. 

You look up at Azzi, begging her with your eyes to tell you what was going on with Paige tonight. 

“Why is she acting like this?” you ask no one in particular, just trying to deduce the weird energy that had accompanied the entire night. The girls shrug and avoid the question altogether, carrying on with their laughing and gyrating.

You sigh, exhausted from the game they were clearly playing. You needed more alcohol or it was going to be a rough night; you were too sober to deal with this. 

“C’mon, shake those hips,” an evidently very drunk Nika, whispers in your ear with a smirk. She brings a hand down to rest on your waist, the other trailing down your back…lower and lower. You look at her, slightly shocked at the affection. Before Nika’s hand could even reach your ass, you feel yourself being ripped away from her by a swearing Paige.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” Paige all but yells at her Croatian teammate, her eyes wild with anger and her jaw clenched with an impressive amount of control. 

Nika just laughs at Paige’s overreaction, along with every other girl on the team.

“What’s wrong, P?” Azzi asks with a mocking tone. “Pissed that someone other than you touched your girl?”

Paige’s voice falters as she responds, “she’s not my girl…just don’t want her to be uncomfortable or whatever…”

Hearing Azzi refer to you as Paige’s girl made your head spin. What the fuck does that mean?

Your head quickly bounces between a smirking Nika, an uncomfortable-looking Paige, and the rest of the team, who were trying and failing, to hold in their laughter.

“I’m confused…” you trail off in a quiet attempt to get some answers.

A few seconds of silence pass before KK breaks it. “Girl boo, just talk to Paige. And use protection.”

Excuse me, what?

The girls vacate the area, leaving you and the blonde staring at each other, both afraid to make the first move.

“Let’s walk back to my apartment. We can talk there,” Paige finally mutters. 

You let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Things felt vulnerable. Like one wrong move and everything would come crashing down into oblivion. You didn't want your relationship with Paige to be ruined; your one-sided crush already disrupting the delicate balance of it all.

The ten minute walk back to Paige’s felt like years. The air was heavy, constricting your entire being. You held back a sob as the dread seeped into your soul. You couldn’t let Paige see you cry; it was embarrassing enough knowing that she probably already knew of your feelings.

You would get through this. Just let her let you down easy and then you could escape.

As you mentally plan the funeral for your friendship, Paige reaches for your hand, cold from the bitter chill of the night. Your reflexes are quick, wanting to rip it away from her in an attempt to guard the tiniest bit of pride left in you, but you still. 

Nevertheless, you wanted her. And even worse, you needed her. So you allow her to gently take your hand, interlacing your fingers and rubbing a thumb over the smooth skin soothingly. 

It felt so intimate, and the tears in your eyes threatened to spill over your cheeks once more. You glance up, feeling relief as you spot the parking lot of the apartment building. 

As you enter Paige’s room, you look around, trying to memorize everything that made up your friend. ‘This’ll probably be the last time I’ll be here,’ you think solemnly, gazing at the purple comforter thrown haphazardly over the unmade bed. No more giddy nights spent pressed against the blonde, praying she can’t feel the thumping of your heart as she cuddles you.

You sit on the bed warily, readying yourself for the rejection from your most favorite person in the entire world. 

Paige can tell you’re anxious. You unconsciously pick at your fingernails, and your bottom lip is already swollen from being habitually bitten.

She sits beside you, placing a hand over yours again, as if she thinks it belongs there for some reason. In your version of the story, it did. Everything that was yours belonged to Paige.

“I have to tell you something. And I'm really not sure how you’ll react…” Paige trails off, hesitant of how to approach the situation. She clears her throat and continues, “I have feelings for you. I know you probably don’t feel the same, but it’s fine. And the girls knew tonight and were messin’ with me. They thought if they made me jealous enough, I’d do somethin’ about my feelings. And I guess they were kinda right.”

Upon hearing the long winded confession, your ears start ringing and your heart feels as if it might actually combust. 

She has feelings for you? 

You pinch your thigh, slightly wincing at the pain before your face slides into an elated grin. This was actually real.

She has feelings for you. 

Paige searches your face for some sort of guess on how you were reacting to her maundering. With the alcohol still in your system and the shock of her words still reverberating through you, you could do nothing except launch yourself at her gorgeous mouth.

She squeals, momentarily caught off guard by your sudden movement before realizing that the pining she had been doing the last several years was in fact mutual.

Your lips collide, fuckin’ finally, in a kiss that could only be described as heavenly. It was passionate and slow, deliberately savoring the feel and taste of what had been only daydreams for a very long time. 

Ultimately needing to break away for some air, you gaze at each other, reveling in the idea that the pain and heartbreak of years of pining and jealousy was no longer. It was peaceful. It made sense to you, though. Paige was your peace, and you were hers.

Laying down together, you whisper fondly, “I love your teammates so much. Even if their methods are a bit crazy, they really do mean well.”

Paige chuckles in reply. “We are so getting them back for that little stunt, though, right?”

“Of course,” you hum. “Two can play at that game.”

[onlyhereforthestories]

Worth It? Or Not? (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Hi guys! It's been too long. Please enjoy this long ramble that slightly resembles writing 😂. I have a few more things written and I am trying to finish Chica for you all. Happy weekend.

It was a new season, and you were so ready for what it was going to throw at you. The last season you participated in had been your best yet you think, although that was most likely due to the fact that it was your first with your girlfriend. You and Alexia had been dancing around your feeling for each other for a few years and in the off-season last year the older woman had finally asked you out. By the time the season just gone had started you were already official, and it had made last year that much more special. You got to share your achievements with the one you loved and that really was wonderful.

Now for a new season and possibly a new step for your relationship with Alexia, she had been hinting at moving in together for the last few weeks. Little off hand comments like “That would look nice in a master bedroom.” And “I wonder if we would have a feature wall if we had our own living space.” You thought it was about time you started hinting back. You needed to be sure it was something she actually wanted before you out right asked her if she was ready to move in together.

You were currently waiting for Aitana to pick you up, Alexia had to be in earlier than everyone else this morning for a meeting and so you had slept separately, at your own apartments last night. This was the first time in weeks that you could remember not sharing a bed with the older woman. She said she didn’t want to wake you as early as she needed to be up and after trying to argue with her for 10 minutes you had given up, she just wasn’t getting that you would happily wake up early if it meant spending the extra time with her.

“So why do I have to come get your whipped ass? Where’s the wifey?” You rolled your eyes at the woman as you climbed into the passenger seat of her car. Aitana had been one of the first people you had talked to about your crush on Alexia and now the slightly younger woman took every opportunity she could to tease you about your obvious love for the team captain.

“I’m telling her you called her that, but in answer to your poorly asked question, she had an early meeting and didn’t want to wake me up at the early time she had to be up.” You shrugged your shoulders in a gesture you knew was for your benefit not hers, you had been up half the night letting your anxiety get the best of you.

“It’s Alexia, you know her, she is probably just nervous for the new season and how the new signings will fit in.” You knew that Aitana was most likely right but you also couldn’t shake the creeping feeling that she was already getting bored of being with you. You knew you shouldn’t let these thoughts get the better of you but that was easier to say than actually do, it wasn’t that you doubted Alexia at all, it was more your growing anxiety over your own worth in your head. In fact you knew it was you and your head and that just made it even more frustrating, it was another thing that made you question yourself.

“Yeah, you are probably right, she has been feeling the captain pressure a lot over the last week or so. She has been watching tapes of the new girls and talking a lot with the staff after weights. Sometimes I wish she would just switch off from work and be a little more present with me, but she’s Alexia queen of Barca. She puts 110% into this club and that’s what I signed up for happily.”

After that the conversation switched to a lighter topic and by the time you pulled up at the training ground you were feeling a lot lighter and laughing with one of your best friends. Any thoughts of Alexia not wanting you any more were long gone and all you wanted to do now was get your cleats on. Football would always be a great escape for you, it was like your mind could relax whilst you had a ball at your feet.

After getting ready in the changing room, without the appearance of your love, you headed out with the rest of the girls to find Alexia in the middle of the field with another woman you didn’t recognise. Your attention was pulled from them when Pere spoke, “Okay ladies, we have a new signing starting with us today. Alexia has been getting to know her a little bit so it’s easier for her to settle in. Please be welcoming.” You all nodded your heads in agreement and followed him over to the two women.

“Hi it’s nice to meet you all, I’m Chloe.” You could tell the woman was nervous and so could Alexia as she moved everyone onto warm-ups rather quickly. Over the course of the session everyone introduced themselves to the new girl individually so that she felt as comfortable as possible.

You had just got out of the shower and was putting the last items in your bag when Alexia approached you for the first time today. “Hola, can I ask you for a favour por favor?” You could tell she was sort of in a hurry by the lack of affection she gave you. You would normally at least get a peck to the cheek, but she barely even got close enough to you for you to hear her properly.

“Si of course.” You would do anything for the woman in front of you and everyone knew it.

“I’m taking Chloe out to see the city so she knows her way around a bit better, but I didn’t get to walk Nala this morning. Can you run round mine and do it for me? I asked Alba but she is working.” There was a lot to pick out of that passage of one-sided conversation. First you were hurt that she had gone to Alba first when Nala was like your own dog too. Second, she must have forgotten your lunch plans with Claudia and Patri that had been made a while back and you knew was on her calendar as you put it there. Something you decided not to bring up, she was just trying to help the new girl settle in you understood that.

“Yes of course. Do you want me to make dinner tonight?” You thought at least you could have some time with her that evening being as you’ve barely interacted all day.

“I won’t be back for dinner, I told Chloe I would help her sort her apartment out after showing her the sights. I don’t know what time I’ll be back y/n so maybe we should sleep in our own apartments again tonight.” You really didn’t know what to say to this, so you just nodded. You got a lot of the women’s time, so you didn’t think it was fair for you to be upset over a couple days, especially not when she was just trying to help someone out.

“Okay, I’ll see you at training tomorrow then.” You turned round and walked out of training with a slight weight on your chest and your mind running with thoughts you wish you didn’t have.

After you walked Nala and dropped her back into Alexia’s apartment, an apartment that started to feel like your own until the last 24 hours. Part of you knew this was silly to think but you couldn’t help it, you are always an overthinker and this was something that you struggled with. You didn’t even take the time to make sure Nala was settled you just open the door let her in, checked her water bowl was full and left again. Being there just felt wrong today. Deciding that your mood was really not good enough to go out and have a lunch with your two friends you texted Patri to cancel, and after assuring her you were okay just a little extra tired today, she wished you a good evening and said she would pick you up for training if you needed the next morning.

An offer you ended up taking when your texts to Alexia the next morning went unanswered. You were tired and starting to get a little annoyed with the older woman, you were trying to reason as to why she wasn’t replying to your texts and even when she did it was so spaced out it felt like she didn’t care or want to talk to you. You were trying to change that thought process, but it was hard when that’s where your mind had gone.

“Hola, you don’t look so good. Should you be coming to training.” Patri’s concerned voice almost sent you into a wave of sobs, but you held it together, your thoughts were stupid so you know you couldn’t show you were sad. You didn’t want Patri to think you were an idiot for the way you were feeling about your current situation, if it was even a situation.

“I’m just tired Pats, I’ve not slept well the last few nights and I think its just caught up to me a bit today.” You sighed in relief when she didn’t push you any further just gave you a once over and then pulled away from the outside of your apartment complex.

You were hoping the journey to training would help your mood and thoughts, but it didn’t much. Patri tried her best to cheer you up and you really appreciated the younger woman’s efforts, but you were struggling. You made your way into the changing room behind your best friend and didn’t both to look up as you made your way to your cubby. You placed your stuff down and changed into your boots, leaving the changing room straight after as the first out.

You decided some air and keepy ups might help sort your head out before training. Pere and the staff were out setting up when you went to ask for a ball, they gladly gave you one and you headed to the far end of the field to have your space. The sun beating down on you felt good and a ball at your feet always helped.

Your peace was short lived as you heard the chatter of the rest of the girls and Pere calling you all in. You grabbed your ball and headed over, looking at the group for the first time. What you saw hurt your heart more than you would say to anyone, Alexia was stood near Pere like normal. That obviously wasn’t the upsetting part, the upsetting part was that Chloe was pretty much pressed against Ale. You tried not to look too long or think too much but you struggled. You really struggled.

Training started and your thoughts just kept going. You couldn’t concentrate, you couldn’t pass right, your touches were off and none of the shots you took even went close to the goal. By the end of the first half of training everyone could tell something wasn’t okay with you, so much so that Pere called you over in the drinks break.

“What’s up today? This is very unlike you. If your sick you should have just let us know I don’t want to see you get injured if you are pushing yourself too much and then end up being out for longer than you need to be. Health is important y/n.” The way he said it wasn’t scolding which you were thankful for, you were slightly worried that he would be annoyed with you for your performance.

“I’m sorry coach. I’m not feeling my best today, I thought I’d be okay to train but I think maybe I was wrong.” You wouldn’t normally miss training unless really necessary, but you were too far gone mentally and staying here wasn’t what you needed right now.

“That’s okay some days we just need the break and to rest. Go home and we will see you hopefully tomorrow. Please pop and see the medical staff on the way out to check in with them.” With that he patted your shoulder and went back to call the team back to training.

As you walked past the group Patri caught your eye and gave you the are you okay look. You waved her off with a half-smile and continued to the changing rooms. You decided that a shower at home would be the best for you and so just changed your shoes, grabbed your stuff and headed to the medical room.

They just did some basic checks on your temperature and blood pressure before sending you off with the promise to come in first thing tomorrow if you were planning on training just to have another check before you did.

You half expected Alexia to be waiting for you outside the medical room when you walked out but she wasn’t. You walked out of the grounds to remember that you got a lift, you were just about to walk home when your name was called. For a second your body warmed thinking it was who you really wanted it to be before your shoulders slump slightly. You knew that was Patri.

“I’ll drive you home come on.” You didn’t argue you just hopped in the passenger seat. You were quiet the whole way back to your place, the only words you said to the younger woman was thank you when you got out the car.

You took your shower turning the water to as hot as you could handle. Going for comfort after that you changed into your (Alexias) comfiest hoodie and a pair of tracksuits that you really weren’t sure whose they were. You settled yourself onto your sofa and turned on a random old show you didn’t need to concentrate on.

You have no idea when you fell asleep, but you must have at some point because you were blinking yourself awake in the now pitch blackness of your living space. The only light you had was coming from your phone on the table that you now realised was ringing and must have been the reason you were currently waking up.

You reached over to grab it off the table to see who it was, glancing at the screen you were faced with your favourite photo you had ever taken. Ale had this smile that reached her eyes as she stared at you through the camera, it was taken last month when you were on vacation before the season was due to start.

You were stuck in a sort of daze so you didn’t answer the call, after it rang off you were faced with 5 miss calls from the woman. You noticed the time, you had missed lunch and dinner. You almost missed bedtime if you were being truthful to yourself, so you got up off the sofa and turned the tv off. You grabbed your phone again and headed to your bathroom to clean your teeth and get into your pjs. Once in bed you called Alexia back, who picked up after a couple rings.

“Y/n where did you go? Why did you miss training?” Her words were rushed as soon as she answered, which you felt a little bad about as she had been trying to get hold of you for a while now.

You took a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before answering Alexia’s question. You could hear the concern in her voice, which only made your heart ache more. It wasn’t anger or frustration—it was genuine worry. And yet, the events of the past couple of days had left you feeling vulnerable and disconnected.

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you started quietly, not wanting your voice to crack. “Pere told me to go home, and I guess I just needed some time to rest. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls before I fell asleep on the sofa.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. You could hear Alexia shifting slightly, probably trying to figure out the right words. She was good at taking a moment to make sure she said the correct thing, that she said everything she wanted and in a way that would be understood for what it was.

“I would’ve come with you if I knew,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you talk to me? Or at least text me when you got home?”

“I did try to talk to you,” you replied, a bit sharper than you intended. You quickly softened your tone before continuing. “I was going to tell you before I left the training grounds but when I went to go over, I saw you were in a conversation with Chloe and I didn’t want to interrupt. I know what making her feel welcome into the team means to you so I just left, Patri dropped me home.”

Alexia was silent again, and you hated that your mind immediately went back to the image of Chloe standing so close to her earlier. You knew it was unreasonable to feel threatened, but the distance you’d been feeling from Alexia over the last couple of days was making everything worse. You knew Alexia and you knew that if she was even thinking about someone else in the way she thought about you, she would end things. It was a conversation the both of you had had very early in the relationship, it was better to say and end things than cause more heartache with something like cheating.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “I’ve been caught up with the new signings, especially Chloe. I wanted to help her settle in, but I didn’t realize I was neglecting you in the process.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as you listened to her. The fact that she acknowledged it made you feel a bit better, but it didn’t completely erase the weight that had been sitting on your chest. It still has happened.

“I get it, Ale. You’re the captain, and you’ve got responsibilities, but…” You trailed off, not sure how to express what you were feeling without coming across as needy or insecure.

“But what?” she asked gently, encouraging you to keep going.

“I just… I don’t know. It feels like we haven’t really been us these past few days. Like we’re slipping apart, and I don’t want that.”

Alexia sighed softly, and you could almost picture her rubbing the back of her neck the way she always did when she was thinking hard about something.

“I don’t want that either,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry, really. I’ve been so focused on the new season and everything happening with the team that I haven’t been present with you. That’s not fair.”

Tears stung your eyes at her words. You hated that you had been feeling so anxious and unsure about where you stood with her. The logical part of your brain knew that Alexia loved you deeply, but sometimes, your emotions got the better of you.

“I just miss you,” you whispered, finally letting a bit of the hurt spill out.

“I miss you too,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “I promise, when I get back, we’ll spend some real time together. Just the two of us.”

You wanted to believe her, to hold onto the comfort her words should have brought you, but as you lay there, phone pressed to your ear, something still felt off. The doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day didn’t vanish—they just simmered beneath the surface, waiting for another moment to creep back in. You tried to smile, to let her words sink in, but it felt hollow.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice weaker than you intended. There was a pause on the line, and for a second, you wondered if she could hear the uncertainty that was sitting heavy on your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Get some rest. I love you,” Alexia said, her tone soft but distant, and somehow it made you feel even worse.

“I love you too, Ale,” you replied automatically, though the words felt like they got caught in your throat. You wanted to believe them, wanted to believe her. But as you hung up the phone, the heavy silence in your room returned, and with it, the creeping feeling that maybe things weren’t as solid as you hoped.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tighter around you, but instead of the calm you craved, a lingering unease settled deep in your chest. The conversation hadn’t been enough to ease your mind, and the distance between you two felt more real than ever. Alexia cared, you knew that, but it didn’t stop the doubts from pulling you under.

As much as you tried to push it aside, the little voice in your head that had been whispering insecurities all day grew louder. What if she’s getting tired of me? What if this distance between us is because she doesn’t want to be with me anymore? The more you thought about it, the more it felt like Alexia was slipping away, even though she’d just promised to spend more time with you. The doubts began to swirl again, faster now, and the pit in your stomach deepened.

Sure, Alexia had apologized, but what if it wasn’t just about her being busy with the new signings? What if she was using that as an excuse? You started picking apart every little detail from the past few days—how she barely interacted with you this morning, how she chose to spend time with Chloe instead of you, how easily she’d forgotten your plans for lunch with Patri and Claudia. Maybe she wasn’t as invested in the relationship anymore. Maybe she was realizing that being with you wasn’t what she wanted.

You buried your face in your pillow, fighting the creeping sense of rejection. No, this is just the anxiety talking. She loves you. She said she loves you, you reminded yourself, but it felt like a hollow reassurance. Even as you repeated it, the lingering doubt wouldn’t leave you. You wanted so badly to believe her words, to take them at face value, but the overthinking was louder than reason right now.

The phone in your hand vibrated again, pulling you out of your spiral for a moment. Alexia had sent you a text: I really don’t like how we left things. Can I come over? I’ll bring dinner. We can talk.

Your heart skipped at the message. On one hand, you wanted her here. You wanted her arms around you, her presence to quiet the storm in your mind. But on the other hand, you felt like having her here would only make your insecurities worse. What if she could see right through you? What if she could tell that you weren’t okay, that you doubted her? What if she was already tired of dealing with your anxieties, your overthinking?

Before you could stop yourself, you typed back: I think it’s better if I stay alone tonight. I might be getting sick, and I don’t want to give you anything. You’ve got enough on your plate with the new season and all.

You stared at the message, second-guessing every word. It wasn’t entirely a lie—you did feel off, emotionally and physically, but that wasn’t the real reason you didn’t want her to come over. You were scared. Scared that spending time with her would only confirm the worst of your fears. That she was growing tired of you, tired of your relationship.

After a few moments, your phone buzzed again with Alexia’s response: Are you sure? I can bring soup or tea, whatever you need. I don’t mind at all.

Her willingness to drop everything and come over only made you feel worse. How could you doubt someone who was so thoughtful, so caring? But the voice in your head persisted—what if she was just doing this out of obligation? What if she felt guilty? It wasn’t long before you convinced yourself that Alexia was only offering out of a sense of duty, not because she actually wanted to be with you tonight.

Yeah, I’m sure. You replied, forcing yourself to hit send before you could change your mind. I’ll be fine. Just need some rest.

You stared at your phone, waiting for her response, hoping she would fight harder to come over, hoping she would insist. But her next message came quickly, and it felt like a punch to the gut. Okay, rest up. Let me know if you need anything, cariño. I’ll see you tomorrow at training.

Simple. Kind. But it wasn’t the push you had been hoping for. She wasn’t coming over. Maybe she was relieved, you thought bitterly. Maybe she didn’t actually want to spend time with you after all. You hated that your mind kept going there, but the doubts kept clawing at you, relentless and cruel.

Curling up tighter in your bed, you told yourself that some space was good. Maybe tomorrow would be better, maybe by then, you’d feel less overwhelmed, and Alexia would feel closer again. But as you lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, the weight of your insecurities was heavier than ever. You didn’t want to lose her, but right now, it felt like that’s exactly what was happening, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

you need anything. I love you. Get some good sleep, okay?

You read the message over and over, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Alexia wasn’t pushing you to talk when you didn’t feel ready. Disappointment, because a part of you had hoped she would sense your need for more; more reassurance, more connection, more confirmation that everything between you two was still okay. But she didn’t press further, and that left you with an emptiness that was hard to shake. Part of you knew that was silly, she had texted after your call and that should have helped but it just left you with a half full feeling. Like you were only worth that small extra effort.

As you lay there, your mind kept spiralling. You wanted to believe that this was just a rough patch, a phase, something that would pass after the season got into full swing. But the fear that something had shifted between you and Alexia lingered. You tried to push it away, to focus on the fact that she had said she loved you, that she was willing to drop everything for you. But the overthinking kept creeping back, whispering that maybe this was the beginning of the end.

You closed your eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around you, willing yourself to sleep. But even as exhaustion tugged at your body, your mind wouldn’t let go of the nagging doubts. You kept replaying the last few days in your head, every moment where Alexia had seemed distant, every conversation that had felt stilted or rushed. You hated how insecure it made you feel, but you couldn’t help it.

Alexia sits on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. She wants to call you, wants to check in, but hesitates. There’s a lump in her throat, a weight in her chest that won’t shift. You’d asked her for space, asked her not to hover, and she’s been trying, really trying, to respect that. But it’s hard. It’s so damn hard. It feels wrong to stay away, especially when she knows you’re not feeling well.

She runs a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself. She’s been distant lately and she understands that she’s not been around as much as she should have. Training, media obligations, new signings, everything’s been pulling her in different directions, and now, when you need her the most, she’s afraid she’s failing you. Alexia’s not used to feeling this way, like she’s not enough. But here she is, second-guessing everything and wondering why she let it get to this point.

What if you don’t even want her around anymore?

The thought hits her harder than she expects, and she feels a pang of guilt. You deserve someone better, someone who can be there, be present, and she’s been anything but lately. And now, with you sick, the fear creeps in even more. She worries that her attempts to give you space that you asked for might just be making things worse, that you might feel abandoned, even if that’s the last thing she ever wanted.

She presses her palms against her knees, trying to calm the whirlwind in her mind. The idea that she might not be enough, that she might not be the perfect girlfriend you deserve, gnaws at her. She’s scared she’s messing this up, that every move she makes might be the wrong one.

What if she’s not what you need right now? What if she’s been too caught up in her own world, too wrapped up in everything else to see what’s really going on with you?

Her phone buzzes, and for a moment, she thinks about texting you. But what would she even say? She feels torn, pulled between wanting to rush to your side and the fear that doing so would push you away.

She exhales sharply, setting the phone down, her hands now trembling slightly. She loves you, that much is very clear to her. But loving you and being there for you the way you deserve; it feels like two different things right now. She’s scared of being inadequate, of not living up to what you need.

In her heart, she wants to be the perfect girlfriend for you, the one who knows how to navigate all this with ease. Wants to know what you need without you having to say, wants to show you that there isn’t anyone better for you than her. But she’s scared, scared that she’s already failed.

That night, Alexia drives to your place. The streets are quiet, dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp, and the familiar route feels strange tonight, like she’s seeing it through a different lens. Her heart races the closer she gets, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter than usual.

When she finally pulls up outside, she kills the engine but doesn’t move. The silence in the car feels thick, almost oppressive, like it's pressing down on her chest. She knows she should get out, knock on your door, and just be there for you. It’s why she came, after all. But something keeps her glued to the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the dashboard, mind spinning with uncertainty.

What if you don’t want her here?

She takes a deep breath and glances up at your window. The lights are off, maybe you’re already asleep, maybe you’ve had a long day. Her mind starts to drift even further. Maybe she’s too late. But even if you're still awake, there’s that nagging voice in her head that tells her she’s crossing a line, that you’d rather be alone. That she should have done this a few days ago not now, not when you asked her to stay away.

I shouldn’t have come.

She exhales, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her jacket. Every part of her wants to be close to you, to show up the way she should have sooner. She even reaches for the door handle, her heart pounding as she tells herself, Just get out, Ale. Just go inside and talk to her. Be there for her.

But her grip on the handle loosens, and she pulls her hand back.

What if showing up makes things worse? What if you’re still upset, still needing space, and all she does by being here is prove that she can’t respect that?

She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the doubts away, but they only get louder. She’s scared, scared that you’ll see right through her. Scared that, no matter how hard she tries, she’s already failed you.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushes the door open and steps out of the car. The night air hits her, cool and crisp, and she stands there, staring at your front door. Her feet move her a few steps closer, but then she stops, frozen halfway across the street. To any passerby she would look slightly crazy, standing in the middle of the street, car door open behind her and staring at a closed door. But alexia didn’t care, she couldn’t think about anything else other than you.

She could knock, could tell you everything that’s been going through her head, but what if it’s too much? What if it’s too soon?

Alexia takes a deep breath and steps back, retreating to the safety of her car. She sits there, hands resting on the wheel again, feeling like a coward. But the thought of doing the wrong thing, of making things harder for you, keeps her from getting back out the car.

Tomorrow, she thinks. Tomorrow I’ll speak to her.

It’s a promise she makes to herself, hoping that maybe, with a little more time, she’ll find the right words.

The next morning, you woke up feeling no better than the night before. If anything, the pit in your stomach had only grown. You glanced at your phone, half-expecting to see a message from Alexia, but there was nothing. No good morning text, no follow-up to check on you. That left a really bitter feeling inside of you, one that you hated feeling for two reasons. One, you knew in your heart she wasn’t trying to make you feel that way, and two because you felt that way.

As you dragged yourself out of bed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You tried to convince yourself that Alexia was just busy, that she was giving you space like you asked. But deep down, the doubt gnawed at you. What if the space you asked for was pushing her further away?

You knew you needed to talk to her, to clear the air, but the thought of confronting your feelings made you anxious. What if she confirmed your worst fears? What if she said she wasn’t sure about the relationship anymore? You weren’t sure you could handle that.

Still, as you got ready for training, you decided to talk to her today. No more avoiding the conversation. You needed to know what was happening, you needed to clear things up. Not only for your relationship but for your own mind. There was a small voice at the back of your head telling you that speaking to Alexia about why this has happened might be a good idea, but you ignored that for the moment. That would mean showing those deep insecurities. And you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

With the decision made, you grabbed your things and headed out the door, hoping that today would bring some clarity and maybe, just maybe, the reassurance you desperately needed.

Stepping out of the building, you're caught off guard. Alexia is there, leaning against her car, arms folded, sunglasses perched on her nose. She straightens up the moment she spots you, waving casually as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Which a week ago it would have been.

"Hey," she says lightly, her tone casual, maybe a little too casual. Stop reading so much into it y/n.

"Hey," you respond, trying to hide your confusion. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

She shrugs, unlocking the car with a beep. "Thought I’d give you a lift to training. I know Patri picked you up and dropped you home yesterday. I also wanted to check on you properly. How’re you feeling?"

There’s a pause, you are unsure if she’s asking about how you're feeling physically or mentally. "I’m... fine. Maybe a bit tired." Short and sweet, that will do for now.

"Yeah, it’s been a long week," she comments, sliding into the driver’s seat. You follow, buckling in, and the car hums to life as she pulls out onto the road. For a moment, the silence sits between you two, neither of you quite sure how to fill it.

"Traffic’s light today," she notes, glancing briefly at you. "Should get there in no time."

You nod, grateful for the small talk. "Yeah, that’s good."

Another beat of quiet passes.

"Did you see the new kit design?" she asks, her tone light, as if she’s trying to keep the conversation safe.

"Yeah, I did. Looks pretty sharp, though I’m not sure about the neon stripes," you reply, relaxing into the seat a little.

She chuckles softly. "Not a fan?"

You crack a small smile. "Not really my thing. Maybe it’ll grow on me."

The conversation fades again, but this time it feels easier, more comfortable. She’s not pushing, not prying into anything deeper. It feels like both of you are skirting around something bigger, but for now, the surface level is just fine.

Before long, you arrive at the training centre. Alexia leads you inside, where the trainers are waiting. The check-up is routine, some stretches, a few prods here and there and soon, they clear you to train.

"You’re good to go," the head trainer tells you with a nod.

As you step out onto the pitch, Alexia lingers nearby, not hovering, but subtly making sure you’re all right. During the water breaks, she’s quick to hand you a bottle, reminding you to stay hydrated. It's nothing overt, just small gestures that don’t go unnoticed by you.

Training passes, and as you finish up, wiping the sweat from your face and stretching out your tired muscles, you see her approaching again. This time, there’s something different in her expression.

"You did well today," she says with a small, approving smile.

"Thanks," you reply, sensing the shift in the air, the conversation about to take a more serious turn.

She hesitates for a second, then takes a deep breath. "Look... do you want to come back to mine? We need to talk. I think we’re overdue for it."

Her words hang between you both, but the way she says it feels less like a confrontation and more like an invitation. There’s no pressure, no demand, just a simple request.

You meet her gaze, unsure of what this conversation will bring, but knowing it’s inevitable. Whatever is currently going on with you two needs to be addressed and soon. Neither of you enjoying your current situation and definitely not wanting it to continue on this way.

"Yeah," you say, surprising yourself with how quickly the word comes out. "Let’s go."

You hesitate to take the hand Alexia reaches out in front of you, but when she gives you that small smile and slight tilt of her head you can’t help but grab on. You are once again conflicted when she lets go once you are on your feet, but when she awkwardly scratches at her neck as she gestures for you to start walking you can’t help the affection for her that rises in your chest.

The drive to Alexia’s is quiet, not awkward, but there’s a tension that hangs in the air. The radio plays softly in the background, a low hum of noise filling the silence as neither of you speaks much. You glance at her now and then, noticing how her hands grip the wheel just a little too tight, how her jaw seems tense. She’s trying to seem calm, but you know her well enough to see the nerves beneath the surface.

When you arrive at her apartment, Alexia unlocks the door and once again gestures for you to go inside first. You step in, and the familiarity of her space washes over you, a space that’s been shared so many times, but tonight feels different. She lingers by the door for a moment, taking a breath before following you in.

You both sit down on the couch, a little distance between you. Alexia fidgets with her fingers, playing with her rings, clearly trying to gather her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her voice softer than usual, almost unsure.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she says, her eyes not quite meeting yours. “I wanted to, but... I didn’t know if you’d want me there.”

You sit quietly, listening, waiting for her to continue. You know it is only fair to let her finish without interrupting, your time to speak will come.

“I know I haven’t been... the best lately. I’ve been distant, and I can’t even explain why in a way that makes sense,” she admits, her voice wavering slightly. “And then when you got sick... I wanted to be there for you. I should have been there, but you asked for space, and I didn’t want to make things worse.” You could hear the sadness and longing in her voice as she spoke, it made your heart hurt a little more thinking about how this has negatively affected her as well as you.

She looks down, her fingers twisting together nervously. “But I just kept second-guessing everything. Like, if I showed up, I’d be doing the wrong thing. And maybe... maybe you don’t even want me around anymore.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with uncertainty and vulnerability. She’s never said anything like this before, never doubted herself like this when it came to your relationship. When it came to you.

You feel the weight of her worry, and it’s clear that she’s been wrestling with this more than you realized. Had you not been the best girlfriend either? Had she been worrying about this for more than just the last few days? There’s a long pause before she speaks again.

“I’m scared I’m not the girlfriend you deserve,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I feel like I’m failing you... like I haven’t been there when you needed me most.”

Her eyes finally meet yours, and they’re filled with doubt, something you’re not used to seeing in her. Alexia, who’s always so composed, so sure of herself, now looks like she’s bracing for something, maybe rejection, maybe confirmation that her fears are true.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. You know this talk has been coming, but hearing her say it, seeing her so vulnerable, hits you differently. There's a part of you that wants to just reach out and hold her, to tell her it’s all okay, but you know this conversation needs to happen. You know that the both of you need to communicate these feelings and work on how you can do it without it getting to this stage again, if there is going to be again.

“Alexia...” you start, choosing your words carefully, “I never said I didn’t want you around. I asked for space because I needed it, not because I wanted you out of my life.”

She nods slowly, but her expression remains uncertain. You continue, “I’ve been going through a lot, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you here. It’s just... sometimes I need to figure things out on my own. That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Alexia exhales, her shoulders sagging a little in relief, but the tension is still there. “I just... I feel like I haven’t been enough lately. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I haven’t made time for us, for you, and then when you needed me most, I just... froze.”

You shift closer to her, your hand gently resting on hers. “I know you’re busy. I never expected you to be around all the time, Ale. I don’t need you to be. I just need you to be... present. To be you.”

Her eyes soften at your words, and she looks down at your hand that is soft on top of hers, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice steadier now. “I’ll do better. I want to be better, for you. For us.”

You nod, understanding the weight of what she’s saying. It’s not about perfection, not about always getting it right. It’s about showing up, about trying, even when it’s hard, even when doubts creep in.

“I just need us to be open with each other,” you say. “If you’re feeling off or distant, tell me. If you’re unsure about something, we’ll figure it out together. But don’t shut me out, and don’t shut yourself down thinking you’re not enough. And I’ll do better too. I have had so many insecure thoughts over the last few days and I’m sorry for those. I’m sorry that you get affected by them and I’m sorry I didn’t communicate with you about them. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You take a second to think about what you want to say next.  Alexia’s eyes stay locked on yours, her expression softening even more as she listens. Her hand tightens just slightly around yours, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of what you’re both sharing. The tension between you eases further, but the conversation isn’t over yet.

You take a breath, choosing your next words carefully, wanting to make sure she understands where you're coming from.

“I’ve been in my head a lot,” you admit, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I thought that maybe you weren’t showing up because I wasn’t... worth it. That you were pulling away because I’ve been too much to handle. And instead of talking to you about how I was feeling, I just let it build up. I guess I was scared that saying it out loud would make it real.”

Alexia’s brow furrows as she shakes her head gently. “You’re never too much,” she says quietly, her thumb still brushing softly over your hand. “I never want you to feel that way. I hate that you’ve been carrying that, and I didn’t know. That I couldn’t help.”

You nod, grateful for her words but also aware of how important it is to keep the lines of communication open moving forward. “I know you care, I do. I just... I need to trust that more. And I need to talk to you when I’m struggling, not shut you out. I’m sorry for that.”

Alexia leans in closer, her voice filled with sincerity. “We’ll both do better. We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this. I want to be there for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like I wasn’t.”

You feel a wave of relief wash over you, and for the first time in days, it feels like the distance that had crept between you is finally closing. There’s a warmth in the room now, a sense of mutual understanding and a willingness to do better, together.

“I don’t need us to be perfect,” you say softly. “I just need to know that we’re in this together. That we can lean on each other, even when things aren’t easy.”

Alexia nods, her eyes shining with emotion. “We are. I promise. I love you, and I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you lean forward, pressing your forehead against hers. The silence that falls between you now isn’t heavy or filled with uncertainty. It’s peaceful, comforting.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

For now, the words are enough. There’s more to work through, more conversations to be had, but you know that you’re both committed to making this work. And for the first time in a while, you both feel like you're on solid ground again.

Alexia pulls you closer, wrapping her arms around you, and you sink into the embrace. The weight of the past few days begins to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of hope for what comes next.

After the heaviness of the conversation finally lifts, you and Alexia share a soft smile, the tension replaced by a quiet, comforting peace. The air between you feels lighter, and as if sensing the shift, Alexia’s lips curve into a small grin.

“How about we get some takeout?” she suggests, her voice playful yet warm. “I don’t feel like cooking, and I think we both deserve a break tonight.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. “That sounds perfect. I could definitely go for some comfort food.”

It doesn’t take long before you’ve both decided on your usual, something easy and satisfying. The soft glow of the kitchen light reflects off Alexia’s face as she places the order, her expression more relaxed than it’s been in days. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief, like things are finally settling back into place.

Not long after, the smell of freshly delivered food fills the room, and you both settle on the sofa, plates balanced on your laps, the comfort of being together in the small, familiar space wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

“Movie?” Alexia asks, already flicking through the streaming options.

“Nothing too heavy,” you say with a smile. “Something we can just zone out to.”

She nods in agreement, finally settling on a classic comedy that always makes you both laugh. As the opening credits roll, you finish your food and tuck yourself into her side, her arm instinctively wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

As the movie plays, the light from the screen flickers softly against the walls, casting a warm glow over the room. You’re snuggled close into Alexia’s side, her arm still draped around your shoulders, fingers lazily tracing small patterns on your arm. The comfort of it all makes you feel more at ease than you’ve felt in days.

At some point, the film becomes background noise. You’re more focused on the way Alexia’s thumb brushes your skin or the occasional glance you catch of her watching you instead of the movie. You shift slightly, turning your face up toward her, and her gaze softens as your eyes meet.

Alexia smiles, a tender warmth in her expression, and you can’t help but lean in. The first kiss is soft, almost shy, like you’re both still figuring out the rhythm after the tension of the last few days. Her lips linger against yours for a moment longer than usual, and when you pull back, you see the quiet joy in her eyes, a silent thank you for being open and honest with her, for being here.

Without a word, you lean in again, your lips meeting hers in a series of soft, gentle kisses. They’re unhurried, sweet, filled with a quiet kind of affection that says more than words could in this moment. Alexia’s hand comes up to cradle your cheek, her thumb grazing your jawline as she deepens the kiss slightly, but it’s still slow, still soft.

When you finally pull away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath mingling with yours as you both smile, the movie all but forgotten now.

“I missed this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the quiet moment.

“Me too,” you whisper back, brushing a kiss on the corner of her lips, your hands finding their way into hers.

She presses another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, and you both relax into the warmth of each other, the world outside fading as the night slips by.

There’s no rush, just the two of you, lost in the soft comfort of being close, the rest of the night spent in quiet kisses and shared smiles, wrapped up in each other as the movie plays on in the background. There is no need for more words tonight. You both know you’re in this together, that the promise made earlier will be something you will both work at together. And for right now, that’s enough.

[warping-realities]

2k Special - Coach Knows Best

So, guys, like I mentioned early this month, this year’s been way more complicated than I thought it would be. So much so I didn’t even realize I hit the 2000 follower mark! I had nothing planned for the occasion, but since I can’t let it slide, I whipped up this little story. It’s nothing groundbreaking or revolutionary, to be honest. It’s more of a throwback to my roots—the first stories that pulled me into this world, first as a reader and then as a writer.

My inspirations here are the amazing work of CallMecrazy and Aardvark. 'The Jocking' got me started in this game, and right after that, I dove into 'High School Development.' Also to this day, my all-time favorite story is 'Clifton Jocks: Nick' (though I gotta say, 'An Old Fashioned' is the best thing ever written in our niche).

Anyway, this is my little gift to celebrate with you all. Hope you dig it!"

Coach Knows Best: Finding Brotherhood

Brock woke up kinda groggy after a weird dream where he was on the school debate team. Like that would ever happen. After letting out a half-yawn, half-laugh at the ridiculousness of it, the football jock let out a groan as he rolled out of bed, his massive frame stretching and creaking. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and checked the clock – 5:30 AM. Time to get his butt in gear for another day of practice. After a cold shower, he admired himself, flexing his boulder-sized biceps and tree trunk thighs.

“Damn, Beef, you’re one fine piece of work,” he muttered to himself, before realizing that if he kept daydreaming, he’d end up running late, and the last thing he wanted was to piss off the coach. He lumbered down the stairs, still half-asleep, trying unsuccessfully not to make noise so he wouldn’t wake his mom. Not an easy feat with his massive size. As he stepped into the small but cozy kitchen, he popped open the fridge, chugging a gallon of whole milk and scarfing down a couple of protein bars and lasagna leftovers, shoveling it all in like a cow chewing its cud. Gotta keep those gains coming, bro, he thought as he let out a loud belch.

After put a sleveeles shirt and a pair of compression shorts he hopped into his late dad's beat-up pickup truck and cranked up the radio, bobbing his head to the rap music as he headed to the local high school, where he played offensive guard for the Oakwood Titans. He couldn't wait to hit the field and ball out with his teammates. Oakwood, was the best, the coaches actually cared about their players and the athletes were treated with respect.

Pulling into the crowded high school parking lot, Brock spotted his bro Trey, another offensive lineman, and they fist-bumped as Brock approached.

"Yo, Beef, you ready to crush some skulls today, bro?" Trey said, his deep voice rumbling.

"You know it, man. Gonna put fear in those punks," Brock replied with a grin, pounding his chest.

The two hulking teens lumbered into the locker room, the floor shaking with each step. Brock yanked open his locker, the cheap metal creaking, and started suiting up. He pulled on his compression tights, the fabric straining to contain his muscular legs. Next came the padded girdle, the protective cups cradling his package just right. He smirked, knowing he was packing some serious heat down there. He put on his shoulder pads, the familiar weight settling on him, and finally, his jersey – number 72, offensive guard.

Brock and Trey headed out to the practice field, joining the rest of the team for warm-up drills. Coach Steele, a former NFL player with a jaw like granite, barked out commands, and the players moved in sync, grunting and clapping in rhythm. Brock loved this part, the camaraderie and teamwork. It felt like a well-oiled machine, everyone doing their part.

Soon, they split into position groups for more intense drills. Brock lined up against the defensive tackles, his eyes narrowing as he focused. The whistle blew, and he exploded off the line, driving his feet and using his massive frame to shove the defender back. Again and again, Brock dominated the one-on-one battles, his competitive nature fueling him.

"Atta boy, Beef! That's how we do it!" Coach Steele yelled, slapping Brock on the back, making the young man puff out his chest, soaking in the praise. This was his element, where he thrived.

After a grueling practice, the team gathered for Coach's speech. Brock listened intently, absorbing every word.

"Men, you're showing real promise out there. But I know we can be even better. This season, we're going all the way to state. But it's gonna take sacrifice, dedication, and leaving it all on the field. No half-assing it, you hear me? You're dismissed, boys, and behave yourselves. I don't want to hear any complaints about you from the other teachers. And woe to anyone caught messing with the other kids, no matter how weak they are!" Coach Steele's eyes scanned the players, landing on Brock. "Brock, stay here. I need a favor.” Said the older man. And Brock waited curiously while his teammates went to the locker room and the muscular giant moved towards him.

“ Brock, You’re one of our leaders; I expect big things from you, and now's your chance to prove it." Said the coach.

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, his voice booming. He was ready to do whatever it took to please Coach Steele, he was his inspiration, and football was his life.

"Kid, there's a boy in your class, a new transfer, who's been asking questions he shouldn't. I need you to reach out to him. Gain his trust."

"Yes, coach, who are you talking about?"

"Aidan Trent. I understand he's your partner in science class."

"Aw, coach, that guy's lame, a total nerd."

"Beef, are you gonna go against my request?"

"No, sir, I'll do as you say!"

"Great, who knows, you might find you have something in common?" the coach replied with a mysterious smile.

Brock doubted that, but this was his chance to prove himself, to show the coach what he was made of.

Alone in the locker room, Brock stripped off his sweat-soaked gear, relishing the burn in his muscles. He grabbed a towel and headed to the showers, the hot water pounding on his aching body. He couldn't help but admire himself – bulging biceps, chiseled abs, thick tree trunk legs. This was the body of a champion, a warrior. He flexed, grinning at the way his muscles rippled.

After cleaning up, he pulled on a fresh pair of tight boxer briefs, the fabric clinging to his package, and slid into a pair of faded Levi's. He topped it off with an Oakwood Titans blue t-shirt, the school colors bringing out the intensity in his eyes.

After strutting in front of the cheerleaders, Brock headed to his biology class, where he was paired up with his target: the scrawny kid named Aidan. Even though he had a mission, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, wanting to be around his fellow jocks instead of some scrawny nerd. But the coach's words were law, and he would follow them to the end.

"Dude, you got a problem or something?" Aidan asked, sensing Brock's irritation.

"Nah, man. Just ready to get this over with so I can get back to football," Brock grumbled.

"Football, huh? You must be one of those meathead jocks I keep hearing about," Aidan said, rolling his eyes.

Brock felt his blood boil. "You got a problem with football, shrimp?"

"Relax, dude. I'm just saying, there's more to life than throwing a ball around," Aidan replied, backing down.

Brock clenched his fists, wanting nothing more than to pound this scrawny little twerp into the ground. But he knew that would only get him in trouble, and he couldn't afford to miss any games. So, he took a deep breath and tried to focus on the project. He didn't know how to deal with a weakling like that, but if this was Steele's will, Brock would make an effort.

"Man, what do you know about football?"

"That it's a bunch of guys smashing each other over a ball, just to get concussions and die young." Hearing that sent another wave of irritation through the young giant. But he kept his cool.

"Football is way more than that. It's discipline, teamwork, trust, it's brotherhood. Things I bet you don't have with your buddies in the chess club."

"I'm not in the chess club!"

"I bet you're in the choir or some other girly thing..."

"I'm part of the school newspaper!"

"Oh, right, something way more masculine, living off gossip."

"I bet anything with words escapes your ogre brain," the skinny kid shot back just as the bell rang.

At lunchtime, Brock made his way to the cafeteria, his tray piled high with enough food to feed a whole family. He plopped down at a table, right in the middle of the room, greeted by his fellow linemen.

"Yo, Brock, heard you pancaked Tanner in practice. Dude's still picking his teeth up off the field," one of the guys said, laughing.

"Yeah, man. Gotta let these boys know who's boss," Brock replied, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

The conversation turned to the upcoming game against their rivals, the Westside Warriors. Brock listened intently, already visualizing himself blowing open massive holes for the running backs. Just then, a scrawny figure approached with a tray in hand: Aidan. This was his time to shine.

Brock spotted Aidan sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria and decided to join him.

"Sup, Aidan, you mind if I park my big ol' butt right here? I think things got a bit rough between us, and I wanted to make it right."

"Uh, yeah, sure, go for it."

"So, newspaper? What's the deal, man? What've you been up to?"

"Not much, just... some stuff..."

Making a huge effort to seem interested, Brock continued. "What stuff? What you write for that rag?"

"Since you insist, I'm working on a story about the funding differences between the sports teams."

"Funding differences? What are you talking about?"

"Well, it seems like the football team gets way more money than all the other teams combined. I'm trying to figure out why that is."

"Hold up, you saying we get more cash? So what? We need that to be the best."

"I'm not saying you don't deserve it; I just think it's unfair that the other teams don't get the same level of support."

"Unfair? You don't know jack about football, man. This team brings in way more cash and fame for this school than any other sport."

"Look, I just want to understand how the funding distribution works. I'm not trying to attack anyone."

"You're trying to expose us, aren't you? Thinkin' we're doing something shady!"

At that moment, Coach Steele approached, noticing the heated discussion.

"Hey, hey, what's going on here?"

"This guy's trying to write a story saying we get more money than we should!"

"Is that so? And why do you think that, son?"

"I just... want to understand better how the funding gets divvied up. I'm not trying to accuse anyone."

"Well, I know things may seem unfair from the outside, but the football team brings in a whole lot more for this school than any other sport. That means more cash, more exposure, more opportunities. But it's not like we're stealing it from anyone. It's all within the rules."

"See? I told you we need that to be the best."

"Easy there, Brock. I get your frustration, but let's keep things civil here. Aidan, if you really want to understand how this works, why don't you come to one of our practices with Brock here to see how it all works, and I can explain it all to you calmly."

"Uh, well... okay, I guess."

"Great. Now, let's all go back to eating in peace, alright?"

Brock and Aidan nodded, still a bit tense, under the watchful eye of Coach Steele.

"Beef with me," the coach said with a stern face, and Brock followed him. "A little more subtlety would have been better, kid, but now I know what the kid was after. And to think I thought he might suspect something..."

"Coach?"

"Anyway, kid, good job, but it's not over yet. You heard what I said; tomorrow morning before practice, I want you to go to Trent's house and bring the kid with you. It's our duty to guide him to a proper understanding of the importance of football, right?"

After school, Brock headed home. Entering the simple house, he exchanged a few words with his mom before flopping down on the couch, flipping through channels until he found a replay of a college football game. Engrossed, he barely noticed the time pass until his mom, a night shift nurse at the town hospital, kissed him on the head and told him that she had left his dinner ready. He scarfed down the massive meal, grateful that his mom knew he needed to keep fueling his body to get bigger and stronger. It was tough for a single mom like her to manage the house and a son with his appetite and needs. But one day, he would repay that. He was going to college for football and become a pro, giving her and the coach all the pride in the world. He was going to be a star, a hero to his team and his community. Brock was going to make a name for himself, and no one was going to stand in his way. And if that meant putting up with the nerd Aidan Trent, so be it.

......

The next morning, Brock woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. He had a mission, and he was determined to make the most of it. After finishing his breakfast, he grabbed his gear and hopped into his truck, mentally preparing for the day ahead. As he drove towards Aidan’s house, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Pulling up to Aidan’s home, Brock took a deep breath. The house looked small and unassuming, a stark contrast to the towering figure of the young man standing outside. He knocked on the door, and moments later, Aidan's father, an older version of the kid, appeared, surprise etched on his face.

"Huh... what brings you here?" asked the lanky man, adjusting his glasses nervously.

"Hello, sir, nice to meet you. I'm Brock Bennett, Aidan's classmate. I came to pick him up so we can go to school together."

"You're a friend of my son's?" the man asked, both astonished and pleased at the prospect. As if the idea of a friendship between the behemoth in front of him and his son was impossible. Something Brock would agree with without hesitation if it weren't for the need to follow the coach's orders.

"Yeah, sure!" he replied with his best boy next door smile. "Could you call him? We're running late for football practice."

"Football practice?"

"Yeah, I said I'd take Aidan with me to help him with a report for the school newspaper, to help him understand the need for the funding we receive and all that..."

"Ahhh... now it makes sense! Aidan, come here, your friend is waiting!" the lanky man shouted for his son.

Aidan appeared at the door, a bit hesitant, but upon seeing Brock, forced a smile in front of his dad, who seemed confused at the prospect of his son making friends with one of the jocks. "Hey, Brock. What are you doing here?"

"Coach Steele sent me to pick you up, man. You were supposed to tag along to practice, remember? And we're already late. If it weren't for having to grab you, I'd already be crushing in the field by now. So, let's go!" Brock replied, gesturing for Aidan to hop into the truck. Once Aidan settled into the passenger seat, they started driving toward school. The initial silence in the car was palpable, with Aidan staring out the window and Brock focused on the road.

"So, Aidan, what do you have in mind for this article? Got any bright ideas?" Brock asked, trying not to sound annoyed like the day before.

"I'm thinking about something on the importance of funding for sports, you know? How it can impact team performance and player morale," Aidan replied, nervously.

"Cool, but don't you think we've already proven we deserve what we got? Football’s a big deal, and we bring fame to the school; we've been state champs more times than any other team," Brock said, trying to make the other guy understand.

"Yeah, but it's also important that other teams get the same support. It's not fair that just one sport gets all the attention and resources," Aidan argued, the fiery passion in his words.

Brock shook his head, a bit frustrated. "Look, I get your point, but you know how things roll. Football is what puts the school on the map. And who doesn't wanna be a star?"

Aidan sighed, looking at his own reflection in the window. "Not everyone has that dream, Brock. Some people just wanna feel part of something..."

Brock glanced at Aidan, surprised. "And what do you think the team is all about, man? What’s it really about?"

"Not everyone has a team to lean on, Brock!"

"Don't you have friends in your newspaper club?"

"I... I've just never been good at making friends... My mom passed away when I was little, and my dad's an accountant who works a lot. He's cool, but he doesn't have much time for me. So, I end up being alone most of the time," Aidan explained, the sadness in his words almost palpable.

Brock felt something unexpected: a pang of empathy. "Man, I'm really sorry to hear that. I had no idea."

"Yeah, it's not easy, but life goes on, I guess. I just focus on school and the stuff I like to do. But you and your friends seem to have it all, you know? Always hanging out and having a blast," Aidan replied, and Brock couldn't help but notice the envy in the other kid's eyes. He was used to that, with others wishing to be in his shoes but not willing to make the sacrifices needed. But this time was different; Aidan wanted things that Brock himself valued the most.

"Yeah, we've got a solid team," Brock said, trying to find the right words. "But it also has its challenges. My dad's not around. He passed away last year. And my mom... well, she works hard to support me. I guess deep down, we all have our battles."

Aidan turned his head, surprised. "You don't have a parent either? I... I didn't know."

"Yeah, it's part of life, right? We gotta deal with it and move on," Brock replied, his voice a bit softer now. "But it's not like I'm alone. I got my friends, and the team is like family."

"That's cool," Aidan said, a shy smile creeping onto his face. "I've always wanted to be part of something like that." Not knowing how to respond, Brock fell silent as he maneuvered the truck into the school parking lot.

Brock and Aidan got out of the truck and headed for the locker room, where the smell of sweat was mixed with the sound of laughter and shouts from the players. As soon as they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a messy place, with uniforms strewn across the floor and equipment scattered everywhere. The atmosphere was lively, full of energy and camaraderie.

“Hey, Beef! Finally decided to show up, were you giving that kid a blast?” Trey shouted, laughing and making obscene gestures, causing the others to burst into laughter and Aidan to shrink back.

Brock smiled but quickly turned his attention to the approaching coach, his presence demanding respect. Coach Steele had a serious look, but there was a spark of understanding in his eyes.

"Brock!" the coach said in a firm voice. "I'm gonna let this tardiness slide, but only because you brought Aidan. Now, go get changed and put on your uniform, we've got a lot of work to do!"

"Yes, sir!" Brock responded, feeling a surge of motivation at Steele's words. He quickly headed to his locker, grabbing his uniform and starting to get ready for practice. Meanwhile, the coach turned to Aidan.

"Aidan, come with me to my office. I want to talk to you a bit before we start," Coach Steele said, gesturing for the young man to follow him.

Aidan hesitated for a moment, glancing at Brock, who nodded encouragingly. It was strange how just a few words had made the other boy look at him with a completely different attitude. Neither of them noticed it, but Steele, an old fox, knew at that moment that things were heading in the desired direction. He then led the smaller boy along while Brock quickly changed.

Brock felt adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was his moment, the time to show all his potential, any thoughts about Aidan completely forgotten.

As he joined his fellow offensive linemen, Brock exchanged a few back slaps and jokes with his teammates. But he knew that as soon as the whistle blew, the fun would be over. It was time to work.

The warm-up began with the classic push-ups and squats, led by assistant coach Morrison. Brock followed the commands with precision and determination, feeling his muscles warm up and get ready for the challenge.

Next came the line drills. Brock positioned himself at his station, facing the training equipment that represented the defender he would have to face. At the whistle's signal, Brock exploded forward, using his immense strength to push the obstacle back. He maintained the correct position, with squared shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground, and legs bent. He repeated the movement several times, feeling his body heat up and his determination grow with each thrust.

Then, with Coach Steele returning, the team was divided into smaller groups to practice different game schemes. Brock watched the instructions closely, memorizing the positions and movements he was supposed to execute. They rehearsed some passing and running plays, with Brock blocking defenders with precision and aggression.

During the breaks, Brock drank water and chatted with his teammates. They exchanged tips, encouraged each other, and reminded themselves of the importance of the season. The Titans had a tradition of winning, and in Brock senior year, they would not disappoint.

When practice ended, Brock felt his body tired, but his mind was more focused than ever. He knew that every drop of sweat, every push, every effort was worth it. Brock was part of a team of champions, and he wouldn't let anything or anyone stand in his way. As he laughed and exchanged bravado with Trey and the others, he let all his arrogance and ferocity show.

And then he came face to face with a mesmerized Aidan.

“Hey man, did you watch the whole practice?”

“Yeah! You guys… you are… awesome!” Aidan replied, surprising Brock, but not as much as his next sentence. “I… I want to be just like you… bro!” Said the smaller boy with unfocused eyes and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

What the hell was that? Something wasn't right.

“Coach! Coach Steele, sir!” Brock called out in alarm. “Something's not right with Aidan. He's…” the gigantic young man began to say as the coach approached.

"He's exactly as he should be, my boy!"

"But coach…”

“No arguments, Beef. You’re going to have to trust me.”

“Yes, coach.” Brock replied as he made his way to the locker room accompanied by the stupefied Aidan.

Brock watched Aidan with a mix of confusion and concern as the young man walked beside him, with a glazed expression and a silly smile on his face. Something was definitely not right, and Coach Steele's request seemed increasingly strange.

Upon reaching the locker room, the characteristic noise and smell filled Brock's senses. He greeted his teammates with back slaps and a few jokes, but his attention was focused on his new "friend."

Aidan seemed completely oblivious to the chaos around him, his eyes fixed on Brock with an expression of admiration and devotion. Brock couldn't understand what was happening, but he knew he had to keep an eye on him.

Brock began to undress, taking off his sweaty uniform and heading for the showers. Aidan followed him like a puppy until Brock made him sit on one of the benches where he remained still, but without taking his eyes off the big guy. Brock felt uncomfortable with that gaze but tried to ignore it, focusing on washing the sweat and dirt from practice.

After the shower, Brock returned to his locker, putting on a pair of jeans and a school t-shirt that outlined every detail of his powerful muscles.

"Hey, Brock, who's your little buddy?" Trey asked, nudging Brock.

"Oh, it's Aidan. Coach asked me to keep an eye on him," Brock replied, trying to sound casual.

"Seriously? That's weird. Well, if the old man told you to, you better take good care of your pet, huh?" Trey laughed and walked away, leaving a confused Brock behind. He approached Aidan, who continued to watch him with that disturbing look.

"Hey, Aidan, you okay, man?" Brock asked, trying to understand what was going on.

"Yeah, Brock, I'm great! You're so strong and amazing," Aidan replied, his voice full of admiration.

Brock felt uncomfortable with that reaction, but before he could respond, Coach Steele approached.

"Brock, Aidan, come with me. I have some things to discuss with you," the coach said with a serious look.

Brock and Aidan followed him to the coach's office, where Steele made them sit.

"So, Aidan, what did you think of the practice?" Steele asked, with an enigmatic smile.

"It was amazing, coach! The guys are so strong and skilled, football is awesome, and Brock too! I want to be just like him!" Aidan replied, his eyes shining.

Steele nodded, satisfied with the answer.

"Great, great. I see you've understood the importance of football for this school. And that's exactly why I want you to join us."

Brock widened his eyes, surprised by the proposal.

"But, coach, he doesn't play football. He's a nerd from the school newspaper," Brock protested.

"Exactly, Brock. And that's why I want him to join us. He needs to understand the true value of football, and there's no better way than being on the field, side by side with the players. Don’t take your eyes off Trent. Understood?”

Brock still wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to question the coach's orders.

"Alright, coach. I'll take care of him," Brock said, reluctantly.

"Great. Now, go get ready and enjoy the rest of the day. Don't take your eyes off Aidan, Brock. I want him at your table at lunchtime and tomorrow morning at the usual time, I want you two here, ready to train, understood?" Steele said, dismissing them.

Brock and Aidan left the office, and Brock couldn't stop thinking about what was happening. He couldn't understand why the coach wanted Aidan to join the team, but he knew he had to follow the orders. After all, football was his life, and he wasn't going to risk it all for a nerd, he justified to himself.

The morning went relatively normal if it weren't for the new adoring shadow Brock had over him in the form of Aidan. Although as the hours passed, the other boy seemed more normal. If Brock had paid more attention, he would have realized that the behavior he was taking as normal was expected for jocks like him and not nerds like Aidan. He only noticed the extent of that change when it came time for lunch when he found himself forced to share the table with Aidan and the football team boys.

During lunch, Brock found Aidan eagerly waiting for him at the football players' table. The skinny and awkward boy looked out of place among the muscular giants, but his posture and facial expression had changed drastically.

"Hey, Brock! Saved me a seat, bro?" Aidan said, in a deeper, more confident voice than Brock was used to hearing.

"Uh, yeah, sure..." Brock replied, still a little confused by the sudden change in behavior.

Aidan sat next to Brock, his tray overflowing with food, just like the other players. He began devouring the food with the same voracity as his teammates.

"Wow, Aidan, you're eating like a horse!" Trey commented, laughing.

"Yeah, man, gotta keep these muscles fed, right?" Aidan replied, patting his abdomen.

Brock widened his eyes, realizing that the boy was not only imitating the players' manner of speaking but was also bragging about his "muscles," something that definitely did not match his physical appearance. Or was it? Looking closely at the boy, he no longer seemed so skinny. He hadn't obviously reached the muscle mass of the team boys. But compared to most of the nerds at school, he was light years ahead.

"Seriously, Aidan, are you okay?" Brock asked quietly, so only the other boy could hear.

"Of course I'm okay, Brock! Never felt better. This football thing is awesome, man. I don't know how I lived without it until now," Aidan replied, laughing deeply.

Brock remained silent, watching Aidan interact with the other players. He joined in, made jokes about flatulence, and even started telling stories about his conquests with girls, which left Brock speechless.

"Hey, Aidan, I heard you're hitting on Brittany. Didn't know you had game, dude!" Connor the quarterback said, giving him a friendly nudge. Since when did those two know each other?

"Oh, you know, I've got my mojo. That blonde can't resist my charms," Aidan replied, winking.

Brock couldn't believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the same Aidan he knew. The skinny and shy boy had been replaced by a caricature version of a football player, complete with bravado, arrogance, and even romantic interests—everything Brock himself was. So why did it seem to bother him so much?

While the other guys laughed and continued the conversation, Brock remained silent, analyzing the situation. Something was very wrong, and he had a feeling Coach Steele was behind it all.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Brock turned to Aidan.

"Hey, Aidan, can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, in a serious tone.

"Sure, Brock, what's up?" Aidan replied, with a confident smile.

Brock pulled him aside, away from the other players.

"Man, what's happening to you? You're not like this, what did the coach do to you?"

Aidan looked confused for a moment, but then his face lit up with a smile.

"Happening to me? Nothing, Brock! I finally realized how amazing football is. And all thanks to you and Coach Steele. Now I want to be part of it, be one of you, brothers!"

Brock frowned, unconvinced by the explanation.

"Aidan, I know you're not like this. You're a nerd from the school newspaper, remember?”

“Nah, man, just because I write for the paper doesn't make me a nerd. If things don't work out with football, I'm gonna be the next Adam Schefter, we even share the same name! Me, a nerd? You're a jokester, bro! I gotta go, see you tomorrow morning. Get ready 'cause tomorrow I'm gonna show you my skills.” Said the not-so-small boy as he walked down the hall while a stunned Brock stayed behind.

Still dazed, Brock headed to his next class, but his mind was far from there. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened at lunch and Aidan's strange words. That sudden transformation left him uneasy.

During class, Brock tried discreetly to contact Coach Steele, but his messages went unanswered. He needed to understand what was going on, but the man who should have the answers seemed to be avoiding him.

At the end of the day, Brock ran to his car, determined to find out what was behind that bizarre situation. As soon as he got home, he threw himself on the living room couch, opening his laptop and starting to research.

His searches led him to stories about the "Stepford Wives," a fiction novel that talked about a community where women were replaced by perfect, obedient, and submissive replicas. Brock couldn't believe the similarity between that plot and what was happening with Aidan.

Could Coach Steele be involved in something similar? Was he turning the boys at school into idealized versions of football players? The mere thought made Brock feel sick. He didn't want to believe that his mentor, the one who inspired him so much, could be involved in something so dark.

Confused and worried, Brock eventually fell asleep on the couch, his mind restless with theories and speculations. He knew he needed to act, but he wasn't sure how to proceed. After all, Steele was his idol, and he didn't want to believe that the man who helped him become the player he was today could be involved in something so disturbing.

.............

The next day, after a restless night's sleep, Brock felt like a wreck. However, he still decided to train. Upon arriving at the locker room, he was approached by Trey and the other players.

"Hey, Brock, what's up, man? Where's Adam? Coach Steele is gonna be super pissed when he finds out you didn’t bring him.”

Brock felt a knot form in his stomach. What if Steele finds out Brock suspected something was wrong?

"I... I don't know, Trey. Something very strange is happening with Aidan, and the coach seems to be involved," Brock replied, hesitantly.

"Man, are you serious? The coach? No way, he's the man, our mentor. You're tripping, Brock, and it's Adam, man! I thought you were the guy's best friend!” Trey said, laughing.

Brock wanted to insist, he wanted to convince his friend to believe him, but before he could say anything, Steele himself entered the locker room, his demeanor serious.

"Brock, my boy, where's Adam?” the coach asked, his voice firm.

"I... I don't know, coach. He hasn't shown up yet," Brock replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in the presence of the man who until a day ago had been his idol.

“If I recall correctly, you were supposed to have picked him up at home and brought him to practice? You disappointed me!” Responded the coach, making a feeling of shame arise in Brock's chest, after all, despite his suspicions, Steele was still the great example for Brock.

"Relax, coach. I took the opportunity run a little to warm up,” said a deep voice. Turning towards it, Brock was taken by a huge shock. It was Aidan, but it wasn't. Before him stood a man who had familiar features in a gigantic muscular body. As if someone had fused Aidan with a muscular man.

"Brock, my boy, you should have picked up Adam as I asked," Steele said, with a serious tone. "Apologize to your teammate."

Brock swallowed hard, feeling ashamed. "Sorry, Aid… Adam. I... I forget you were coming."

"It's all good, Brock. I get it," Adam replied, with a confident smile. "The important thing is that I'm here now, ready to show what I can do."

Steele nodded, satisfied. "Great, great. Now go get changed, we have important practice ahead."

Brock and Adam headed to their lockers, starting to gear up with their game uniforms. Brock grabbed his number 72 jersey, the padded pants, and the protectors. Putting on that uniform always made him feel part of something bigger, a team of brothers.

While changing, Brock watched Adam out of the corner of his eye. The boy seemed so comfortable, as if that environment was his natural habitat. He put on the uniform with ease, adjusting the protectors precisely.

"Hey, Brock, you ready?" Adam called, already fully equipped.

"Ah, yeah, I'm coming," Brock replied, finishing getting dressed.

Together, they left the locker room towards the field, where the rest of the team was already warming up. Brock could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the desire to show all his potential returning with full force.

As soon as they arrived, Trey and the other players greeted Adam enthusiastically.

"Hey, Adam, ready to show your worth?" Trey said, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"You know it, Trey. I was born ready," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

Brock watched the interaction, still a bit confused. How had Adam integrated so quickly into the team? Could Steele really have something to do with that transformation?

Before he could think more about it, the coach's whistle blew, signaling the start of the warm-up. Brock positioned himself, ready to give it his all. He couldn't let his concerns distract him. After all, the football field was his domain, and he wasn't going to disappoint his team brothers.

Throughout the practice, Brock watched Adam's performance closely. The boy seemed to have become a completely different person, with agile movement, strength, and determination. He stood out among the others, and Brock couldn't understand how that was possible.

During the first break, Brock tried to talk to Adam, trying to understand better what had happened. But the boy seemed absorbed in his own world, focused only on improving his performance.

And truth is Brock was impressed with Adam's performance on the field. The two seemed to communicate without words, anticipating each other's moves with impressive synchronicity.

When the coach yelled a play, Brock and Adam positioned themselves instantly, knowing exactly what to do. They blocked the defenders with precision, opening holes for the runners to advance. The offensive line worked like a well-oiled machine, with each piece fitting perfectly.

Adam's confidence was contagious. He moved with agility and strength, overcoming his opponents with ease. Brock felt motivated to give his best, wanting to be on par with him.

In one of the breaks, Brock couldn't contain his excitement:

"Damn, Adam, you're flying out there, man! Never seen anyone integrate into the team so fast."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Oh, you know, I've always be a good player. Just needed a chance. And Coach Steele gave me that opportunity."

Brock nodded, impressed. He couldn't understand how it was possible, but he couldn't deny that Adam's performance was exceptional.

"Hey, you and I are a scary duo, huh?" Brock said, with a smile.

"You bet, bro!" Adam replied, excited. "Together, no one can stand against us."

Brock felt more confident than ever. Having Adam by his side made him feel invincible. They were a force to be reckoned with, an unstoppable duo.

As practice went on, Brock found himself focusing more and more on the game, setting aside his worries. The synergy with Adam helped him forget the doubts about Coach Steele and the strange transformation of the kid.

When the final whistle blew, marking the end of practice, Brock felt exhausted but extremely satisfied. They had given it their all, and the result was evident.

As they headed to the locker room, Adam looked at Brock with a confident smile.

"Hey, man, you really are an amazing guy. I'm glad to be on the same team as you."

"Thanks, Adam. I'm happy to be part of this too," Brock replied, with the same smile, momentarily forgetting who he was talking to. However, those concerns came rushing back as soon as they entered the locker room. Seeing Adam strip down made Brock question his sanity for the thousandth time that day. It was impossible—Adam, Aidan! His name was Aidan! And It was impossible for him to have that body. Before him was a man with broad shoulders, a defined chest, and arms full of muscles. The tanned skin only enhanced the imposing nature of his physique.

"Holy crap, Adam! You're a beast, man!" exclaimed Trey, giving the new player a pat on the abs.

"I know, I know," Adam replied, laughing heartily. "No wonder the girls drool over me."

"I only see Brock drooling over there, huh?" Connor nudged Brock with his elbow, making the others laugh.

"Ah, shut up, man!" Brock tried to hide his embarrassment, averting his gaze.

"Ah, leave Brock alone, he's just jealous of my bod," Adam said, doing a flex, making his muscles pop.

The other players applauded and whistled, impressed with the display.

"Damn, Adam, you think you're CBUM!" Trey commented, laughing.

"It's not that, it's you guys looking like a bunch of nobodies next to me," Adam retorted with a confident smile, while hugging Brock completely naked.

"Hey, knock it off, man!" Brock replied, lightly pushing his teammate.

"Chill, Beef, don't get jealous, bro. You're a prime specimen too," Adam said, giving a friendly elbow to Brock.

The other players laughed at the joke, and soon the conversation turned into a typical teenage banter, with jokes and bravado about who was the strongest, fastest, or most attractive.

After showering, Brock and the others got dressed, donning their school uniforms. Adam flaunted his new body with pride, intentionally wearing tight shirts and pants to highlight his muscles.

"Hey, Adam, you're more stuffed than a Thanksgiving turkey," Trey commented, laughing.

"Hey, man, gotta keep this bod on display. After all, the chicks love a hot athlete," Adam replied, winking.

Brock watched the scene, still unable to believe what he was seeing. That wasn't the Aidan he knew. That was a football player in every essence, with the same arrogance and confidence that Brock and the others displayed.

While the other boys bragged and joked, Brock remained silent, his mind racing. As they left the locker room, Brock noticed that Adam seemed to have won the admiration of all his new teammates. They laughed and joked with him, treating him as one of their own. Brock, on the other hand, felt increasingly distant, his doubts and worries isolating him from the rest of the group.

As they walked, Brock couldn't help but watch Adam closely. The man seemed so confident and popular, greeting all the classmates they passed by. It was almost as if he had been part of that group his whole life.

When they reached the classroom, Brock noticed Adam's behavior. He sat next to Brock, but instead of grabbing his class materials, he started taking selfies, showing off his muscles in different poses.

"Man, have you seen how many likes I got on this pic?" Adam said, showing his phone to Brock.

"Uh... no, I haven't," Brock replied, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Oh, you gotta see! It's blowing up, everyone's commenting on how ripped I am," Adam continued, not taking his eyes off the phone screen.

Brock watched the scene, unsure of what to say. The skinny, studious boy had been replaced by someone who seemed to care only about his appearance and popularity.

When the teacher finally entered the room, Brock tried to focus on the lesson, but his attention kept straying to Adam. The kid wouldn't stop fiddling with his phone, taking more and more photos and updating his social media.

"Hey, Brock, you think this pose looks better?" Adam whispered, leaning closer to Brock.

"Uh... I guess so," Brock replied, unable to hide his discomfort.

"Cool! I'll post this one later," Adam said, smiling with satisfaction.

Brock shook his head, still unable to believe what was happening. He glanced sideways at the teacher, who seemed to completely ignore Adam's behavior.

Did nobody else notice the drastic change in the kid? Or was everyone simply accepting that transformation as something normal?

During lunch, the table was full of laughter and lively conversations. The Oakwood Titans football players gathered around a table, with trays full of food, ready to discuss strategies and share dreams.

"So, what's your favorite NFL team, Adam?" Connor asked, while biting into a burger.

"The Chiefs, no doubt! Mahomes is a beast! I'd love to be part of his offensive line," Adam replied, his face lighting up as he talked about the quarterback he admired so much.

"Oh, you and Brock with that obsession over the guy. But he'll never be a Brady. There's only one GOAT. And I'm gonna be the one to take that spot from him! I want to be the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys and take them back to the top! Imagine me playing for the packed crowd at AT&T Stadium! Connor Walsh making The America’s Team Great Again!” Connor exclaimed, gesturing enthusiastically while the others booed and threw food at him.

Adam, who had cheerfully thrown an apple core at Connor, nodded, laughing before continuing. "It'd be awesome to play alongside Brock on the Chiefs' offensive line, man! We could dominate any defense!"

"For sure, Adam! And you could protect Mahomes while I make the plays! It'd be a perfect combo," Brock said, feeling increasingly comfortable with the new Aidan/Adam.

"By the way, wouldn't it be great if we could all be in the NFL someday?" Trey commented, a hopefull smile on his face. "Imagine us four, playing together on a real team!"

Brock started laughing, imagining the scene. "That'd be epic! What could go wrong? A team of linemen ready to crush anyone who crosses our path!"

"Yeah, and we'd still have to fight for that chance, right? It's not easy getting there," Adam added, his eyes shining with determination.

"But who says we can't do it? We have the skill and the strength!" Connor said, pounding the table to emphasize his point.

As the conversation flowed, Brock let himself be carried away by the excitement and camaraderie. He was genuinely having fun, laughing and sharing stories with Adam and the others. For a moment, the doubts he had about Aidan's change disappeared, overshadowed by the energy around him.

"I remember the last time we played against the Warriors," Brock began, laughing. "We crushed them! It was a real show of strength."

"Yeah! And that touchdown you made? It was insane! I almost fell off the bleachers with excitement!" Adam exclaimed, laughing along with the others.

"That's right! And I still have a video of it! Brittany sent it to me. Too bad you weren't playing with us yet. But now I'm gonna post it in our group for everyone to see!" Trey said, grabbing his phone.

“Hey man, not cool!”

As the group continued to chat, Brock realized he was genuinely enjoying himself. He liked the new Aidan—Adam—and the way he fit in with the team. It was a relief to see that even with the strange transformation, the boy seemed happy and confident. But deep down, Brock knew something wasn't right. Aidan's change wasn’t natural, but at that moment, surrounded by his friends and immersed in conversations about football, he decided to set aside his worries.

"So, who's ready for the next game? Let's show them who's boss!" Brock shouted, raising his diet soda cup in a toast.

"I'm in! Let's crush them!" Adam replied, raising his cup as well.

The table filled with cheers and laughter, and Brock felt that, for a brief moment, everything was as it should be.

Brock and Adam left the cafeteria table, laughing and chatting animatedly about the upcoming practices. As they walked down the hallway, Adam suddenly stopped in front of a large mirror, adjusting his hair with his hand and admiring his reflection.

"Hey, man, could you cut it out with the vanity? You're not a runway model," Brock joked, giving Adam a pat on the back.

"Ah, shut up, Beef! I just want to look presentable. A football player has to take care of himself, right?" Adam replied, winking at the mirror while running his hand through his hair again.

"Take care of yourself? You seem more worried about that than the next game!" Brock laughed, amused by the scene.

"Relax, I just want to make sure I'm ready to shine on the field. And you should worry more about your image too!" Adam retorted, pulling Brock in front of the mirror.

Brock hesitated, but Adam had already grabbed his phone and positioned himself for a selfie. "Come on, smile! One, two, three!"

Brock made an exaggerated face, and Adam enjoyed the image. "Perfect! Now I'm gonna post this!" He quickly added a filter and before Brock realized, he was typing the caption.

"Rivals to brothers!" Adam said, with a satisfied smile as he pressed the button to post.

Brock was confused. "Rivals to brothers? Why'd you put that?"

Adam looked at Brock, surprised. "You're kidding, right? We’ve been playing as rivals our whole lives! And now we're on the same team! That's a big deal, man!"

Those words hit Brock like an arrow. He had forgotten for a moment that this bro wasn't real. Now, that post, the idea of being "brothers" on the team made his concern return.

"Wait a minute, Adam. You really don't remember anything, don't find anything... strange?” Brock said, trying to find the right words.

Adam frowned. "Strange? No, man! This is just what happens when you finally find your place. Football is my passion! And you should feel that way too, right? Don't tell me you're having an identity crisis!"

Brock didn't know what to say. Adam's transformation was so drastic that he couldn't ignore it. "No, it's not that... I just... just…” Brock mumbled. He knew something was wrong and couldn't let it pass. "I need to talk to Coach Steele," he decided, determination growing within him.

"Talk to the coach? About what?" Adam asked, his eyebrows raising.

"About you. About this strange transformation. It doesn't seem right, Adam," Brock responded, feeling more firm in his decision.

"Transformation? What the hell is that? You're out of your mind, Beef! The coach is amazing! He only wants the best for the team. Don't get carried away by silly thoughts!" Adam exclaimed, a tone of concern beginning to emerge in his voice.

Brock looked at Adam, and for a moment, he saw the boy he knew before—the nerd who cared about school and writing. But now, the image he saw was of a vain football player, completely different from the Aidan he knew.

"I need to go," Brock said, determined.

"Go where? Brock? Brock???" Adam asked worriedly, but Brock was already walking away, ignoring his friend.

As he walked towards the coach's office, Brock felt adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was about to uncover a mystery that could be affecting not just Adam, but the entire team. He needed to know the truth. No matter what happened.

Brock knocked on the coach's office door. "Coach Steele, I need to talk to you!" He announced, his voice firm.

"Come in, Brock," replied the coach, his expression serious but welcoming.

As soon as Brock entered, he closed the door behind him, determined to find out what was going on. He faced Steele, who looked at him with a mix of expectation and curiosity.

"Coach, I... I don't understand what's happening with Adam. He's not the same, and you seem to be behind it!" Brock said, frustration evident in his voice.

"Oh, Brock... you really got worried about that?" Steele responded, his voice calm and controlled. "Don't you see that this is for his good? For the good of all of us?"

"For his good? He's becoming a version of himself that I don't recognize! This isn't right!" Brock exclaimed, feeling anger growing within him.

“This isn't right, coach. He's not being himself!"

"You don't understand, Brock. Football is a game that requires strength, courage, and confidence. And sometimes, that means leaving behind who we were before. Adam was a threat and now is an essential part of our team," Steele replied, his voice firm.

"But at what cost? What are you doing with him? This isn't natural!" Brock insisted, feeling the conversation was intensifying. “And why me? Why use me to do this to him?”

"Because I needed a catalyst and you were perfect for that, boy. Understand, you're dealing with a new world, Brock. A world where the weak have no place. And I'm doing nothing but what's necessary to ensure our success. You should focus on what matters: winning," Steele replied, his expression unwavering.

Brock fell silent, the coach's words echoing in his mind. He was about to lose everything he had fought for—his friendship, his identity. And now, what was more important? Victory or the truth?

“Let me help you understand better, son. Changes are necessary for us to be the best version of ourselves, Brock. You've been through it yourself," Steele said, his gaze penetrating.

“I... what? No, that's not true, I would know…”

“Just like Adam knows? You want to take the risk? I can reverse what happened to him, but by doing so, I'll do the same to you. So, boy, what's your choice? I leave it in your hands. What do you say?”

“I… I prefer to stay as I am.” the boy replied.

"I thought so. Now, so they don't say I'm a monster, relax, boy, I assure you everything will be fine."

….

Brock woke up the next morning, the sun's rays peeking through his bedroom curtains. He stretched his muscular arms and legs, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. As he got out of bed, he couldn't help but admire his physique in the mirror - the chiseled abs, the bulging biceps, the powerful thighs.

"Alright, time to get this day started," Brock said to himself, heading to the bathroom to start his morning routine. He brushed his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and then made his way downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting through the air.

In the kitchen, Brock's mom was busy cooking up a hearty meal - scrambled eggs, bacon, and fluffy pancakes.

"Morning, sweetie," she greeted him with a warm smile. "I made your favorite. Gotta keep those muscles fueled, right?"

"Thanks, Mom," Brock replied, sitting down at the kitchen table and digging in. He savored every bite, knowing he needed the calories and nutrients to power him through another intense football practice.

After breakfast, Brock headed outside to his truck, ready to make the drive to school. As he pulled out of the driveway, he felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Football was his passion, his purpose. He couldn't wait to get on the field and prove himself once again.

Brock pulled up to Adam's house, ready to give him a ride to school. As he approached the front door, it swung open, and a tall, muscular man stepped out. Brock immediately recognized him as Adam's father, although he looked vastly different from the lanky, bespectacled man he had met just a few days earlier. not that he had any memory of that encounter.

"Brock! There's my boy!" the man exclaimed, his deep voice booming. He strode over to Brock and enveloped him in a bear hug, slapping him firmly on the back.

"Mr. Trent, good to see you," Brock replied, a bit taken aback by the man's enthusiastic greeting.

"Please, call me Hank. We're practically family now, with you and Adam being such good friends and all," Hank said, flashing a wide grin.

"Uh, yeah, sure, Hank. Is Adam ready to go?" Brock asked, glancing past the muscular man.

"Adam! Your ride's here!" Hank called out, and moments later, Adam emerged from the house, a confident grin on his face.

"Brock, my man!" Adam exclaimed, jogging over and exchanging a fist bump with Brock. "Ready to crush it at practice?"

"You know it, bro," Brock replied, still a bit bewildered by Adam’s father.

Hank chuckled and placed a heavy hand on Brock's shoulder. "I've been hearing all about your football exploits, Brock. Sounds like you boys are gonna have one heck of a season, eh?"

"Yeah, we're really looking forward to it," Brock said, nodding.

"That's what I like to hear!" Hank boomed. "You know, I used to play a little ball back in the day. Maybe I can give you boys some pointers, huh?"

Brock's eyes widened slightly. "You played football, Hank?"

"Sure did, son. Defensive end, back in my glory days. Though these days, I'm more focused on keeping the town safe as a firefighter," Hank said, puffing out his chest proudly.

"Wow, that's really cool," Brock replied, genuinely impressed.

"Yeah, Dad's a total badass," Adam chimed in, grinning.

" I'll remind you that you said that the next time you call me out and call me cringe, dude! Yeah, I miss my glory days, but one upside of quitting gaming was I could dive into amateur bodybuilding and finally focus in becoming shredded as hell. Now you and Adam don’t have to stress about that just yet, you need to be the biggest and badest player on the field or my fellow defensive line brothers will eat you alive. But from what I see around the house, and looking to you son looks like you guys are totally in the loop about it. Anyway, you should probably get going, Boys. Don't want to be late for practice."

"Right, of course. It was great seeing you, Hank," Brock said, shaking the man's hand.

"Likewise, Brock. Take care of my boy, you hear?" Hank said, winking.

Brock nodded and headed towards his truck, Adam falling into step beside him. As they climbed in, Brock couldn't help but feel a bit more at ease. Hank's warm, fatherly presence remember him of something he hadn't received since his father's death, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it.

"So, your dad's a firefighter, huh?" Brock asked, glancing at Adam.

"Yeah, man, he's the best. Always been my hero, I want to be exactly like him." Adam replied, his eyes shining with admiration.

"That's cool. I almost can see the resemblance if we take off some grease from you."Brock said, chuckling.

Adam laughed heartily. "Hey, Aren't you listening to him? We gotta keep up our physique, you know? Gotta be ready to tackle anything, on and off the field."

Brock nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. As they drove towards the school, the two chatted about the upcoming game and their plans for the season. Brock couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Adam, a feeling he hadn't expected to have for a former rival.

As they pulled into the school parking lot, he could already feel the energy and excitement in the air. The sounds of laughter and the sight of his teammates gearing up for practice filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

"Alright, Beef, let's do this!" Adam exclaimed, jumping out of the truck and heading towards the locker room, Brock following close behind.

In the locker room, they joined the other players, all pumped and ready for another day of intense training.

"Yo, Beef, did you see that pic I posted yesterday? It's blowing up on Insta!" Adam said, giving Brock a friendly nudge.

"Yeah, man, it's blowing up for real! You're looking like a pro athlete already," Brock replied, laughing.

The other players gathered around, all with big smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Brock, Adam, ready to smash the Westside guys on Friday?" Trey said, high-fiving both of them.

"You know it, Trey, we're gonna make them beg to leave the field!" Adam replied confidently.

"Damn right, bro! Let's show them who's boss!" Connor chimed in, pumped up.

Brock watched the interaction, feeling like part of something bigger. These guys weren't just his teammates; they were his brothers. He belonged to this group, this family.

"You guys ready to kick those punks' asses?" Brock said, joining in the excitement with his friends.

"Of course, Beef! Let's crush them!" Adam responded, pounding his chest.

The players continued to get ready, cracking jokes and hyping each other up. Brock felt more confident than ever. This team was his second family, and he would do anything to protect it and lead it to the top.

When Coach Steele entered the locker room, everyone fell silent, knowing it was time to get down to business.

"Great work this week, boys. You're showing you've got what it takes to go far this season," Steele said, his gaze sweeping over the players. "I want to see that same effort out on the field today. I expect nothing less than your best. Now, go warm up!"

The players charged onto the field, adrenaline pumping through their veins. Brock and Adam lined up side by side, ready to give it their all.

The practice began with the usual warm-up drills, and Brock lost himself in the rhythm, focused solely on executing each movement to perfection. Nothing else mattered but becoming the best player he could be.

When it came time for the line drills, Brock and Adam took charge of opening gaps for the runners. They worked in sync, predicting each other's movements and crushing any defender who dared to get in their way.

Brock felt the sweat pouring down his body, but he ignored the fatigue. All that mattered was victory. He needed to prove to himself and the team that he was worthy of being part of this champion squad.

During breaks, Brock and Adam chatted animatedly about the plays, exchanging ideas, complimenting each other, and joking around.

When practice ended, Brock felt exhausted but satisfied. They had given it their all, and he knew they were more prepared than ever to face their rivals.

As they headed back to the locker room, Brock looked at Adam, who seemed radiant.

"Man, you're flying today! We're getting more and more in sync," Brock said, giving Adam a friendly nudge.

"That's right, Beef! Together, no one can stop us," Adam replied, with a confident smile.

When they reached the locker room, the other players were already hurrying to shed their sweaty uniforms. Brock and Adam joined them, laughing and sharing stories about practice.

"Did you guys see that play Beef made? That was awesome!" Trey exclaimed, giving Brock a slap on the back.

"Ah, man, it was nothing. You guys were killing it out there too," Brock replied, feeling proud.

"No way, Beef! You're the man, dude!" Connor joined in, giving Brock a friendly punch on the arm.

At that moment, Coach Steele gathered the players in the locker room.

"Boys, you did great out there today. I'm proud of you," Steele said, his penetrating gaze sweeping over the athletes. "But we can't stop there. This season is gonna be the toughest you've faced yet."

The players listened in silence, knowing the coach was about to deliver one of his motivational speeches.

"You need to be willing to sacrifice everything—your comforts, your personal interests, even your social lives—for this team to reach the top. There's no room for ego, no room for laziness. You're a family now, and family comes first."

The players nodded, their faces filled with fierce determination.

"So, I want to see you give your blood on that field. I want to see you surpass yourselves every day, every game. I want to see you become champions!"

"Yes, sir!" the athletes responded in unison, their shouts echoing through the locker room.

After the coach's inspiring speech, the players began to strip down and head to the showers. Brock and Adam walked side by side, chatting animatedly, completely naked, without the slightest bit of shame. They were brothers.

As they approached the showers, the sounds of banter and laughter filled the air. The players, now naked, examined one another, comparing muscles and sizes.

"Hey, Trey, your leg looks like it's getting thicker. You been doing extra squats, huh?" Connor said, giving his friend a friendly elbow.

"Oh, yeah? Well, check this out!" Trey replied, flexing his bicep.

Soon, all the players were laughing and teasing each other, showing off their muscular bodies.

Brock watched the scene, feeling increasingly integrated into that group. He knew these were not just his teammates but his brothers. They would fight together, sweat together, and, if necessary, die together in pursuit of victory.

While showering, Brock felt the tension in his muscles dissipate. He knew that with this team by his side, nothing could stop them. They were invincible.

After the shower, the players left the locker room in a group, chatting and laughing animatedly. They walked through the hallways, drawing the attention of other students with their imposing presence.

As they walked, other players joined the group, high-fiving and greeting each other enthusiastically.

"Hey, QB's getting stronger, huh?" Lance a running back said, admiring the quarterback's muscles.

"You got it, man! I need to show these guys who's boss around here," Connor replied, smiling.

The group grew as they moved through the hallways, attracting curious and admiring glances from other students.

"Hey, did you see those cheerleaders over there?" Connor said, pointing to a group of girls.

"Of course I did, man! Brittany's dying for me to ask her to the homecoming dance," Adam replied, with a mischievous smile.

"And I'm tagging along with her friend, Brie," Brock added, laughing and being joined by his friends, their deep and powerful voices echoing through the hallway. The cheerleaders watched them with longing looks, some waving and smiling at the athletes.

"Hey, Beef, you're on fire, huh?" Trey said, giving Brock a nudge.

"You know it, man. We're the best," Brock replied, laughing and heading to class.

At the end of the day, Brock and Adam were surprised by a request to meet with Coach Steele and made their way to his office, curious about what he wanted to discuss.

Upon entering, Steele greeted them with a serious demeanor, but his face soon softened into a smile.

"Brock, Adam, I'm glad you came. Please, have a seat."

The two athletes obeyed, settling into the chairs in front of the coach's desk.

"Well, boys, I called you here because I want to know how you're feeling about all this. I know things have changed a lot since Adam joined the team, and I want to make sure you're comfortable with the situation."

Brock exchanged a look with Adam before responding.

"Look, Coach, I trust you and your decisions. I know you always do what's best for the team. And Adam's arrival has only made our squad stronger."

"Great, so nothing's bothering you, kid?"

"Other than the fact that we haven't crushed the Warriors yet, there's nothing wrong, Coach!"

Adam nodded, laughing and adding:

"That's right, Coach. I know my coming here was unexpected, and Beef and I had a rivalry, but that's in the past. I feel completely integrated into the team now. All the guys welcomed me with open arms, especially Beef, and I couldn't be happier to be part of this family."

Steele observed the two athletes attentively, satisfied with their responses.

"I'm glad to hear that, boys. You're key pieces of this team, and I want to make sure you're fully engaged and committed to our goal. Now, Adam, about your article. I understand it comes from a good place, but perhaps it's best not to stir up controversy."

"Article? What article?" Brock asked, confused.

"Mr. Trent here is also a member of the school newspaper, Beef. And he wrote an extensive piece explaining why the football team needs more funding. Which is admirable, Adam, but raises questions that are best left alone. Which I trust you will do."

"Yes, Coach, your word is law," Adam replied, while his friend looked at him with a mocking gaze.

"Hmm, newspaper? Didn't know you were such a nerd, Trent."

"I'll show you who's a fucking nerd, Beef!"

"Boys, enough. Now I suggest you go home and rest because tomorrow is the big day."

After the conversation with Coach Steele, Brock and Adam left the school and headed to Brock's house in the old pickup truck.

During the drive, the two guys sang rap songs loudly, each defending their favorite artist.

"Man, there's no way around it, Eminem is the greatest of all time!" Brock exclaimed, pounding the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

"Ah, come on, Beef! Kendrick Lamar is way cooler than Eminem!" Adam retorted, giving his friend a friendly punch on the arm.

"Are you crazy, man? Eminem is a legend, the guy's a lyrical genius!" Brock countered, turning up the radio volume.

The debate over who was the better rapper continued throughout the drive until it eventually shifted to their favorite topic.

"So, Beef, who do you think is the GOAT of football? Tom Brady or Mahomes?" Adam asked, curious.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Ah, man, that's easy. Tom Brady, no doubt. The guy's a legend, got an insane resume. That dude is the standard of excellence in football."

"Seriously? I think Mahomes is getting close to surpassing him. The guy's a phenomenon, plays like a beast!" Adam said, excited.

"No way, man. Brady's unbeatable. How many Super Bowls has Mahomes won? Three? Brady's got like, seven!" Brock retorted, laughing.

"Yeah, but Mahomes is younger, he'll get there. And the way he plays is way more exciting than Brady's!" Adam insisted.

"Excitement is good, but titles are what matter, brother. And Brady's got more than double Mahomes'. He's the GOAT, no question!" Brock concluded, giving Adam a slap on the shoulder.

The two continued debating the merits of the two quarterbacks until they arrived at Brock's house. Even with different opinions, it was clear that their friendship had grown stronger.

As soon as they entered, Brock tossed his backpack into a corner and went straight to the fridge, grabbing some drinks and snacks for them to share.

"Alright, Beef, now that we're here, tell me, are you really cool with me joining the team?" Adam asked, looking at his friend seriously.

Brock thought for a moment before answering.

"Man, I'll be honest. At first, I was a bit skeptical, after all, we were rivals and all. But now, after all the dedication you've shown, I can't imagine the team without you. You've proven to be a brother to us, and I know that together, no one will be able to stop us."

Adam smiled, giving Brock a friendly punch on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man. I don't see myself outside this family either. Let's show those Westside guys who's boss!"

The two guys clinked their zero-sugar soda cans, toasting to their brotherhood and the victory that awaited them.

While Brock and Adam chatted in the living room, Brock's mom walked out of her room, all dressed up and elegant. She was carrying a bracelet and struggling to fasten it around her wrist.

"Sweetie, can you help me with this?" she asked, approaching Brock.

Brock looked at his mom, surprised by her appearance.

"Sure, Mom. You're all dressed up today. Something special going on?" he asked, fastening the bracelet on her delicate wrist.

"Well, actually, I swapped my shift at work tonight. I have an appointment," she replied, with a slight smile on her lips.

Brock raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

"An appointment? What kind of appointment?"

Brock's mom let out a soft laugh.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm an adult woman and single. I'm allowed to have my own appointments, don't you think?" she said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek.

At that moment, the doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

"That must be my date," Brock's mom said, quickly fixing her hair before going to answer the door.

Brock stood there, watching his mom walk away, with an expression of surprise and confusion on his face. So, she had a date? His mom, the woman who always seemed dedicated only to him and her work, had a personal life?

He exchanged a quick glance with Adam, who also seemed intrigued by the situation.

"Hey, Beef, is your mom going on a date?" Adam whispered, with a mischievous smile on his face.

Brock shrugged, still trying to process everything.

"Looks like it, man. I didn't even know she was seeing someone."

The two guys stayed silent, listening to Brock's mom's footsteps and the voice of a man in the house's entrance. Brock felt a twinge of curiosity, but also some concern. After all, his mom was everything to him. He let out a long sigh.

"Man, this was unexpected," he commented, still processing it all.

Adam chuckled, giving his friend a pat on the back.

"I can't even imagine my dad going on a date with someone, dude."

The two guys exchanged nervous smiles as they listened to the conversation at the entrance of the house. Brock couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension upon hearing the man's voice accompanying his mom.

When Carol returned to the living room, she was accompanied by a tall, muscular man, whom Brock immediately recognized as Hank, Adam's dad. The shock was evident on Brock and Adam's faces, and an awkward silence fell over the room.

"Dad?" Adam exclaimed, with a look of surprise.

"Adam… Brock?" Hank responded, equally surprised. "I had no idea you were Carol's son!"

"Wait, Mom, you're going out with Adam's dad?" Brock asked, trying to process the situation.

Carol and Hank exchanged glances before starting to laugh, breaking the tension in the air.

"Well, it seems we have a little coincidence here," Carol said, smiling. "Hank and I met when he brought a patient to the hospital. We talked a bit about our kids, but we never imagined… this.”

"This is kinda... strange, but funny too," Adam commented, scratching his neck.

"Yeah, I guess life has those surprises," Hank added, still laughing. "But don't worry, guys. It's just a casual date."

Carol nodded, looking at the two young men. "We're just getting to know each other better. Who knows what could happen, right?"

Brock and Adam exchanged glances again, still trying to get used to the idea.

"Well, be good boys and don't make a mess while we're out," Carol said, giving Brock a kiss on the cheek before leaving with Hank.

As soon as the door closed, Brock and Adam exchanged nervous laughs.

"That was totally unexpected," Brock commented, still laughing.

"Totally! But, hey, if things work out, we could end up being real brothers," Adam said, winking at Brock.

"Yeah, that would be pretty crazy, but also pretty cool," Brock agreed, feeling a strange sense of happiness at the thought. Having a badass stepdad like Hank and a brother like Adam would make his life even more perfect than it already was, eliminating one of the few worries he had, which was his mom's loneliness. And if there was one thing Beef hated, it was worrying and overthinking. That's what he had Coach for, and things were better that way.

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Cooking Up Speculations

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: With y/n rushing around to doll herself up for an event, it's only a matter of time before things get out of hand.

Word Count: 6.7k

Notes: I have never written something like this before, and I thought I would give it a shot. I haven't checked the grammar, but if Google Docs missed anything, that's none of my business.

warning: alcohol and mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close.

__

The prep work was close to done and for once in The Bear’s short existence it was not a screaming disastrous mess. Everyone was on track and prepared, the sauces were sitting in the fridge, the cakes were waiting to be sliced, the rolls were warm and ready to be cut open and it was all thanks to (y/n) coming in extra early this morning. She had started the prep work for most of the chefs that had yet to arrive in the effort of softening the blow. She would be abandoning them for the dinner rush on what was predicted to be a very busy day.

What sport was being played? Who is playing? And who won were all unknown to y/n but all she knew was that the restaurant was going to be filled with rowdy and obnoxiously drunk men who were going to make everyone’s life miserable and she was going to get a “get out of jail free card”. She felt a small pang of guilt for basically leaving them for dead but sacrifices had to be made and if she could cover anyone’s shift with little to no notice she was allowed one day to herself.

The restaurant was expecting the dinner rush to crawl in at about 6:30 pm which left y/n about an hour and a half to get ready. Y/n was finishing up cutting up some garnishes so that everything would be perfect. The sounds of a spoon slapping skin was approaching and y/n knew that she needed to state her case convincingly so she could leave early. Fighting the urge to not bring anything up, work through her shift and miss her event was deviously tempting but with a deep inhale she put the knife down and turned on the balls of her feet.

Her (e/c) eyes meet his and before she could choke out a lame excuse as to why she was blocking him she spit out, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you.”

Carmen looked expectantly, he thought she was going to ask him to taste test the braised beef she had just finished prepping, or ask an obscure question about the food science between ingredients. Y/n had once asked if he found it annoying during one of their late night clean up sessions and he said it was a nice change of pace and he really didn’t mind. How could he when you were so eager to learn?

Y/n didn’t want to do this out here, people are working and if she was going to beg, which is how she expected the next 5 minutes to go, she didn’t want any witnesses. The damage that would do to her pride would force her to change her name, move to Vegas and make money by selling timeshares to idiot tourists.

She cleared her throat, “Privately, chef”

Although his face didn’t betray anything, y/n knew that she had caught him off guard. After a while of spending most of their time together cleaning the kitchen after hours and talking about every minute detail in their lives, y/n knew that she had raised a few alarm bells in Carmen’s head. If she paid attention she could hear the sounds of a car alarm blaring in the back of his head signifying that he thought something was wrong. He always assumed the worst possible would happen, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He wordlessly guided y/n to his office. The door was closed and it felt like they were transported to a different dimension where there was nothing outside but the vacuum of space, it was just the two of them in this room and if one of them were to leave the outside pressure would make their body implode and smash into the size of a ping pong ball. She really didn’t want any of them to leave.

With a silent inhale, “I have to leave early today.”

Carmen softened the crease in between his eyebrows, “ Yeah sure, take the day off.” The imaginary crisis was averted and the car alarm stopped blaring in Carmen’s head.

Y/n was surprised that he was being so easy today. Y/n had yet to ask for a day off but she had spent last night imagining the worst possible scenarios possible, she would get yelled at, rejected, or worst he would guilt her for leaving them to deal with the upcoming shit storm.

“Honestly, I was expecting a bit more of a fight.” Y/n joked, “I even made this whole pitch to convince you.”

“ I can hear the pitch so that it doesn’t go to waste,” Carmen said with a glint of humour in his eyes.

Carmen was giving her an inch and so she might as well take the whole mile. Knowing she was about to push her luck and Carmen’s patience a bit more she continued.

“I came in at 4am and started everyone’s prep and helped Tina with the sandwiches during lunch, and did all of Syd’s prep because she had that doctor’s appointment. And I think it's cruel and unusual that you wouldn’t give me a day off when all I did today was prove how much of an angel I am. The least I can get is a measly day off…What you're not gonna give me a day off you selfish prick? You see this is what always happens, little guys always get pushed aside by the Big man. Carmen you're supposed to be better than those billionaire pricks who probably hunt their interns for sport. And I think it's so unfair that I grace you and this business with my presence and I don't even get a single day off- ” Carmen let out an exhale from his nose and covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smirk. The move had almost made y/n fall to her knees, the way his hair was tousled, the way he looked up at her with his sharp blue eyes, the tattoo flexing on his hands that were a calloused and dry from years of washing them nearly a hundred times a day, the veins trailing up from his hands to under his white shirt.

“Okay, I get gist.”

Y/n knew he didn’t ask for an explanation but she wanted to keep him here for just a bit longer.

“I have this thing I have to go to and I live too far away to go home and change so I need your office to get ready. I would get changed and stuff in the bathroom but the lighting is really bad, the outlets don't work, it’s smelly-”

After a quick glance at his watch he realised that he had a few vendors coming by and he needed to get back to the kitchen. “I know, that bathroom is a real shit show. I told Fak to fix it but nothing he fixes lasts for very long. The office is yours.” Carmen rushed out.

“I'm going to be here till 12 so if there is anything you need me to do before I leave just give me a holler.”

Carmen gave a nod of appreciation before his eyes lingered on her face for a second before grabbing a few papers and a clipboard and then opening the door to leave. It was stupid and childish but y/n held her breath wondering if he would be crushed to the size of a ping pong ball as soon as he left but when she heard him yelling at Richie she knew that the “alone in space” fantasy had died.

Y/n slipped out and went to her locker where she pulled out a dress, makeup and a straightening iron. She had an hour and a chance to make herself look like she just came out of a Mattel box and it was a daunting task for someone who didn’t have much experience dressing up.

Makeup was a bit of a disaster at first because she didn’t want to ruin any of Carmy’s papers but after she accidentally dabbed a bit of concealer on a light bill she just stopped giving a fuck and finished up. The hair was tricky, the outlet was near the ground and she had to crouch to straighten her hair.

The last and most daunting task was the dress because y/n was about to strip in her bosses office and although she had dreams about something this amazing, the reality was much less sexy. In a small burst of paranoia she rolled the chair over to the door so no one would walk in by accident and quickly changed. In the back of her mind all she was thinking about was the small glimmer of hope that Carmy would be the one to walk in. In reality, it would be Rich or Fak because boundaries were a foreign concept to the both of them.

And with 10 minutes to spare, y/n was done. She sprayed some perfume and hyped herself up to leave. She knew she would get teased so she wanted a smooth exit, an Irish goodbye would be perfect, fingers crossed hoping that Richie was out back so she would get out before he made these stupid jokes.

After a few deep breaths, y/n picked up her things and opened the door. The coast was clear and she made a beeline to the lockers to grab her purse, change her shoes and go. She would leave most of her stuff, because if you want to survive you have to be light, like those firefighters that ditch their equipment so that they don't get burned alive. Everyone looked busy and with a quick once over, y/n tried to walk through the kitchen. And although women and heels have had centuries of history, the heels still managed to betray her at the very end. The long sound of heel on tile brought Syd’s head up. Y/n eyes widened as she shook her head as to signal to Syd to drop it but Syd let out a playful gasp and Y/n knew that the jig was up.

“You look amazing.”

And a sea of eyes were looking at y/n.

“You get all dressed up for me?” Syd joked and for a split second y/n wondered if she could make a run for it before she realised that she would fall and crack her head open.

“Who else?” Y/n joked back hoping to get out before she was held captive by their questions.

“You look so nice, where are you headed?” Tina said as she came closer and dragged you closer to everyone.

“Umm- I was actually going to-”

“You know who you look like?” One of those women who seduces James Bond at a casino.” Sweeps commented unhelpfully. A hum of agreement was shared among the crew. Y/n’s face grew warm.

“So where are you going?”

“A date, women don't dress like that if it's not for a date” Ebra chimed in.

Another gasp, “ IS it a date, is he handsome?” Sydney probed.

“Actually, I'm not- '' Y/n tried to finish before she was interrupted.

“What type of car does he drive?”

“We'll see when he picks her up. When is he picking you up?”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU CLOWN JABBERING ABOUT '' Richie burst through the door to see what all the commotion was about and he looked like he was in utter disbelief.

“I didn’t know that it was possible for you could look like that”

Y/n was slightly offended.

“You normally look like death.” Richie laughed. Scratch that y/n was very offended.

“I could look like this everyday if I wasn’t in front of a stove, you clown.”

Ignoring her, Richie asked the room,“ Where is she headed?”

“A date”, Sweeps added.

“I'm going to my friends-” y/n tried to interject.

“A date huh, our little y/n is all grown up now. Soon we’ll be sending her off to college.” Wiping a fake tear and leaning on Tina for mock support, “They leave the nest so soon, it was like it was just yesterday when I saw her struggling to walk.”

“It WAS yesterday and I was only struggling because I hit my knee on the shelfs in the walk-in.”

“Who’s the guy?” Richie asked

“ Your dad.” Y/n knew it was childish and unoriginal but she was too flustered to be a bit more creative.

Richie ignores her and continues, “You know what you look like? You look like one of those girls who kills Johns”

“Are you saying I look like a prostitute?”

“A classy one for like the president and shit.”

“or an ambassador,” Ebra added.

“or a CEO,” Richie continued.

Y/n knew it was going to be tough but she wanted to get out before she was stuck forever.

“I have to go now, I’ll see you guys bright and early tomorrow. Richie you suck major ass. And just so you know, i'm not going on a-”

Carmen walked in with a clipboard and a pen not even sparing a glance up.

“Ok, I just got the beef delivered so we should have enough for Ebra till the end of the week.”

“Heard, chef”

“And Marcus”, who watched the whole thing and didn’t offer any help to y/n except the occasional chuckle.

“I have your eggs”

“Heard, chef”

Although no one said it, everyone was waiting for the moment that Carmen looked up and saw y/n. The dishwashers who never really left their stations shut off the water and were subtly watching this mess unfold.

It was the longest that y/n had seen Richie quiet. He just stared at Carmen, while hiding his mocking smile under the guise of rubbing his stubble.

“I know we are low on onions but the guy is coming in a bit so sit tight”

“Heard”

Maybe, y/n thought, she would be able to walk past Carmen unnoticed if she walked on the balls of her feet so that the heels made less noise. Y/n took a step forward to hightail it out of here so she could make it in time and even though the heel was a lot quieter then last time, the unusual silence in the kitchen made it impossible to disguise the sound.

The sound of heels on tiles brought Carmen back to reality.

He looked up and y/n didn’t know if she imagined it but she thought she saw him raise his eyebrows. And if she was really going to feed into her delusions, she would say that his eyes widened and his pupils dilated too.

All that came crashing down thought, because after a beat of silence barring the sounds of sizzling and bubbling. Carmen questioned, “I thought you would have left by now chef.”

“I got held back but I really do need to leave now. I'm going to miss you guys and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.” And with a quick wave y/n brushed shoulders with Carmen as she left. The smell of her perfume lingered and Carmen felt a bit dizzy.

Carmen wanted to ask where y/n was going but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, not when the two of you have already gotten so close. Richie had different plans, “Hey cousin guess where y/n going?”

“I don’t know cousin, that isn’t really any of our buis-”

“She is going on a date”

“A hot one” Syd chirped

“With a nice car” Ebra added

Richie’s comment felt like a ton falling on his head. Now he felt a different type of dizziness. He quickly composed himself

“Chefs, we have a dinner rush coming, now is not the time.” Carmen said with a bit of an edge.

Richie led Carmen to the front under the guise of asking a question about the tablet. The crew looked around and shared a knowing snicker.

“I can't believe that you let her go like that?” Richie added. “Right now she is in some guy's car about to get wined and dined to high heaven while you wait here with your cock in your hand like some cuck.”

“ Cuck?” Carmen said with venom, it's like he was giving Richie a chance to take it back before he killed him.

“I would be fucken pissed. I wouldn’t let someone take my girl out like that, all dressed up for someone who isn't me”

For a second Carmen imagined you sitting across from your rich new date with the nice car and the handsome face and felt like throwing up. He was angry, he was angry with this “date”, he was angry at Richie for saying all that stupid shit to get a reaction, and embarrassingly enough he was angry at y/n. He had no right to be but he just couldn’t help it.

“Richie if you don’t knock it off, I’m going to send you flying out the fucking window”

“Yes, chef.” Richie mockingly replied.

And with a swift turn Carmen returned to the kitchen with a different temperament then he had 10 minutes ago.

The dinner rush was a nightmare, but the kitchen was hell. There wasn’t a single thing that didn’t set Carmen off. He wasn’t screaming like he was with the to-go orders but he was on edge. They could feel it when they had to remake dishes because he didn’t like them, or when they had to listen to him criticise innocuous things after housekeeping. When that dinner rush ended, the crew looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but there. The second the restaurant closed, chefs cleaned as fast as they could to get the hell out of there. It was the fastest they had cleaned since the morning rush with the pre-orders.

With a quick goodbye, everyone but Carmen left the restaurant hoping that he would be in a better mood tomorrow.

Carmen did what he did every night, got on his knees and scrubbed the floor with a towel. Carmen knew it was unfair and he knew he had no right to dictate what you did. You weren’t his and he waited too long. A part of him understood where y/n was coming from, during one of their late night conversations he had mentioned that he had never had a girlfriend and he didn’t really have the time. This conversation took place some time after the two had gotten close but before he realised that he might have liked her for quite some time. Things were different now and Carmen wanted more.

He tried his best to be understanding but the thought of y/n clinging onto someone else’s arm and laughing at their stupid unfunny joke, made him livid. What if they kiss? Or what if they sleep together?” That thought made him stop scrubbing and sit on the balls of his feet and throw the wet towel with an unnecessary amount of force to another corner of the kitchen. He couldn’t do this today, he couldn’t be here. He got up and cleaned up the towel and bucket of dirty soap water and walked home.

He ended his night with a nightcap hoping that he would fall asleep easily but it didn’t work. He spent a good amount of time staring at y/n contact hovering over the call button before flaking out because it was 2 in the morning and he had to get to work at 6:30. Maybe Richie was right and he was a coward but before he could think too long, sleep had overcome him.

The restaurant was a bit of a walk away from Carmen’s house but he never minded it before, it felt like a good buffer between “Home Carmen” and “Work Carmen”. Today was different, he couldn't not think about y/n and that annoying date of her’s so for the first time in his time in Chicago he listened to music on his way to work. The music was so loud that it was just obnoxious noise and allowed him to stop worrying for a few moments. Carmen couldn’t think about y/n without feeling a bit… he didn’t know how he felt he just knew it was not a great feeling.

Being the first one in the restaurant was not new to him but it felt strange that after 30 minutes he was still the only one there, normally y/n would be there by now asking Carmen about a baking show they both happened to catch the night before, or ask what he ate for dinner last night and breakfast this morning. Carmen would always fight the urge to lie and say that he cooked something magnificent when in reality he probably ate a bag of chips and drank some flat soda. One of the things that these AA meetings emphasised was honesty, to both himself and others, and even if it was embarrassing he told you the truth. You never really judged him because you did the same thing.

After sorting through fuck ton of bills, a few of which had brown power on them and one of them had a (s/c) smudge on the corner he heard a buzz in his pocket. He looked at it hoping it was you saying that you'll be there any second.

(Y/N): I'm so sorry to do this to you but I'm going to be a bit late today, not super late but like an hour. I have to grab my extra apron from my place and I'm a bit far from there. I'll be there by 8 the latest. Again, super sorry :(

Carmen read the text a few times to check if he read that right, you were going to be late because you weren't home and slept somewhere else and needed a change of clothes. Which translated to, you were with someone else, which means you might have done something with someone else. He just stared at the text for a few more seconds before he heard the sound of the front door opening, Carmen didn’t have to look to know it was Sydney. He snapped out of it and sent back an “ok”, lowercase just to be a bit petty. Was it immature? Yes. Did he regret it? Not really.

Y/n spent the rest of her food budget for the week yesterday in a drunken haze with an uber from one side of Chicago to the other. The bachelorette party was a success and y/n was glad that her friend had a good time at the fancy restaurant that she picked out. Y/n was trying to be responsible and limit herself to a few drinks but it's hard to say no to the bride to be and before she knew it she had to leave her car at the restaurant because they took her keys and y/n and her friends crammed into an uber headed towards one of the bridesmaids houses.

Y/n woke up in a hurry, she grabbed a random shirt and joggers from her friends closet because all she had was that dress, which now had wine spilled on it. She quickly gathered her things and texted the group chat that she had to leave early so she could get to work. They would read it when they woke up. Not repeating yesterday’s mistakes she took the train to the restaurant, got her keys back and drove at illegal speeds to get to her place where she took a shower, changed back into her friends clothes because she was way behind on laundry. She took one last look in the mirror before grabbing the apron and sprinting out the door to drive to work. She got there at 7:30am and she felt like death. The hangover was finally catching up to her, and she poured herself some water from the dispenser out front. She knew everyone was in the kitchen by now. She gave herself a few more seconds of quiet before she opened the door to the kitchen and gave a quick hello and rushed towards the lockers to put her stuff in and change into her non-slip shoes and apron.

Richie raised his eyebrows. This was too good, it was too easy, all he needed was for Carmy to get out of that depressing office of his to bear witness to this.

Richie was the first to ask, “New shirt? Never seen it before? ”

“Good Morning to you Richie, if you need to know I borrowed it from my friend.”

Carmen wanted to rush out as soon as he heard your voice but he refrained. He promised himself that he would give you a bit of space to respect you and your date/boyfriend. That didn’t stop him from listening through the door.

“Some friend you got there, real close.” Richie jokes

y/n didn’t know what he was talking about, “Friends tend to be close, Richie. You would know that if you had any.” Y/n barked back.

“How was it?” Syd asked as she sliced what looked like gallons of onions.

Y/n knew that last night was probably a good night but she was so drunk then and so hungover now that it all made her a bit nauseous to think about.

“Honestly, I don't remember much but I do know it was fun.”

“Hungover?” Tina asked.

“Very, my whole body feels like i was run over by a semi”

Marcus handed y/n a gatorade before going back to work with the cakes.

“You come back to us in new clothes, showered, late, hungover, and sore. You must have one hell of a night!” Richie said louder than necessary just so that Carmen would hear, he had a feeling that Carmy was eavesdropping.

“Im telling you guys i didn’t actually go on a-”

Carmen didn’t want to hear anything after Richie spoke because he felt like he was going to hear something he didn’t want to know. He picked up a clip board, slammed the door open and began walking around.

“Chef.” Carmen said mechanically

“Chef.” Y/n replied back fully expecting this, she left early, came late and was now distracting everyone.

Y/n quickly busied herself with peeling garlic and the rest day fell back to its usual rhythm. The prep finished right before the restaurant opened and they worked on filling to-go orders along with the regular lunch and dinner orders. One thing was noticeably different to y/n, Carmen hadn’t looked or approached her once. Normally he would walk by all the chefs and ask how they were doing, checking the quality, etc but the second he got to y/n who was at the far end of the kitchen he circled back. He made comments to everyone’s dish and he had yet to even get within a 3 feet radius on y/n.

Y/n could feel that something was off and to test it, after the dinner rush she finished making one of the test items that Sydney and Carmen had wanted to try out and after a small taste she knew she killed it.

Y/n walked up to Carmen with the dish and set it down. “Can you taste it and tell me what you think?” Carmen didn’t look up, he just grabbed a fork, took a bite and said a quick “It's fine, chef”.

Y/n then looked the dish over to sydney and asked her to try it.

“It added a bit of chocolate because I read somewhere that Japanese people put chocolate in their curry”

“Chocolate huh?” Sydney grabbed a small notebook and made a note.

“It’s okay?” y/n asked.

“It's fire, chef. Great work”

In y/n mind that confirmed that something was wrong with Carmen. Y/n waited till the restaurant closed and everyone left to bring it up. It was just Carmen and y/n alone in the restaurant and y/n could feel there was something in the air.

“You don't have to stay late, you should leave early” Carmon proposed while not looking at her.

That was strange because Carmen never asked her to leave early. She walked up to Carmen who was sweeping the floor and ripped off the bandaid.

“Thanks for the offer but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.” Carmen’s grip on the broom toughened till his knuckles turned white. It was a risky thing to say and after a beat of silence y/n took the coward’s way out by diverting and changing subjects.

“I'm sorry I was so late today Carmen, are we good?”

“We're good.”

Another awkward silence.

“ I don’t think we're good, you seem, I don't know, pissed?”

“I'm good, you're good, we’re good” Carmen said by turning his attention to a very interesting onion skin on the floor.

“You didn’t say anything about the dish I made, or that I was late. Someone told me that you seemed off yesterday.”

“Was this someone named Sydney?”

“Cannot confirm or deny, Carmy”

Carmy finished sweeping and took a few steps back.

“There it is again! You keep walking away from me and not looking me in the eye.”

Carmen didn’t know that he was being obvious, he thought he was subtle because Richie would have brought it up if he wasn’t. Carmen forced himself to look up at y/n and felt like the wind was knocked right off his lungs, he really hadn’t seen her at all today and he missed her.

“You can tell me what's happening so that I can help or at the very least listen to what's wrong.” y/n offered

Carmen bent down, and started to scrub in silence. He looked like he was piecing something together and y/n didn’t want to intrude so she continued to scrub assuming the conversation was over and that they were going to spend the rest of their lives in this uncomfortable silence. A few minutes pass and then a long sigh is heard from the other end of the kitchen. Carmen looked up.

“I’ve been a bit..” Carmen started. Y/n wanted him to finish his thought before she called him a dick.

“It's been a weird day.. I know it shouldn’t but I can't help but ask..”

A pregnant pause passed.

“How was..” y/n leaned in so she could hear.

“How was your “thing” yesterday?” He spit out.

Y/n looked a bit confused, “Umm it was fine, I mean we were at a restaurant so it wasn’t anything to crazy”

“Why were you so late today?”

The other shoe dropped, “ I knew you were pissed that I was late.” With an exhale she continued “We went to dinner and then got shit faced drunk and ubered over to a friends house. I had to go by that restaurant in the morning to pick up my keys and drive to my place so I could take a shower and not smell like a walking liquor store.”

“How was he?” Carmen choked out after a few more beats of silence.

“How was who?”

“Your umm…”

“Mmm” Carmen continued.

Y/n waited but it felt like he was testing her patience,

“Your date?” Carmen finally conceded while swinging his head down.

“What date? I went to a bachelorette party with a few of my girlfriends.”

Carmen’s head shot up, “ I thought-”

“The people in here are so nosy, I kept telling them that it wasn't a date and they wouldn’t bother to listen.”

Carmen’s shoulders relaxed and he felt like he could finally look at you without feeling guilty that he was looking at another guy’s girl.

“What’s been on your mind, Carm?” Y/n probed and Carmen's shoulders tensed up again.

Y/n could feel the atmosphere change and she wanted to capitalise on it while she still could, she could trick herself into thinking that Carmy was jealous of some imaginary guy that he thought she went on a date on, when he probably was just diverting attention to avoid talking about his own problems.

More silence.

More scrubbing.

Carmen looked up with a look of determination, y/n assumed that he had finally hyped himself to tell her what has been bugging him. Although the tension was killing her she did want this moment to last for a bit longer. In this moment she could convince herself that Carmen was troubled because of her and not because work was drowning him or that he is a mess because his brother left him this shithole and left.

She wanted him to have a problem with an easy solution. If he liked her, the easy solution was that she would kiss him and tell him how much she longed for him. He would then confess how much he yearned for her and she would give all of herself to him and he would finally have a win in his life, something that wasn’t tainted by his love/hate relationship with cooking, his family, his brother. Something that he would have all to himself, her love.

Just for a few moments she repeated, that's how long she had till the dream died. This wasn’t the first time something similar had happened. They would stay late and in the comfortable beats of silence Carmen would look up with such a look of determination and y/n heart would flutter hoping for those three special words but she would get something completely different but still equally important, information about a very private part of his life whether it be the AA meetings, or the guilt he felt for resenting his brother. And everytime y/n’s heart would break a bit and then mend itself knowing that even if she couldn't have him like she wanted to, she would still be important to him.

That type of relationship, friendship, used to be enough, but not anymore. With his plans to change The Bear he was getting further and further away from her. It used to feel like it was the two of them but y/n was starting to wonder if she was going to be left behind. If she would stay friends for a while until the longing grew too strong and y/n would leave The Bear. Even if Carmen misses her for a while, y/n knew he would bounce back like he always did and she would slowly be replaced by Sydney or whoever. The thought that in a few years he will have learned to cope with his grief and trauma and move on from the past, move on from y/n, and maybe settle down with someone else made y/n feel like throwing up.

This time y/n didn’t fall for Carmen's “look”, she had a neutral face and was ready to hear what Carmen's issues were. She wouldn’t assume that she was going to get a confession. This time she will help him with his problems and move on from this one-sided crush. Maybe she WILL go on a few dates to forget about him.

“Carmen, do you want to talk about it?We don’t have to do anything you don't want to.”

Determination morphed into apprehension.

“I am feeling something, it is n-n-not…” He exhaled through his nose.

”It's selfish y/n. I'm being selfish. You have every right to do whatever you want but I..”

Y/n tried to look as comforting as possible trying her best to hide any confusion, if Carmen was any other person she would ask if he was sober right now because he was a total mess.

“I’ve never done this before, and I-” and he ran his palm through his hair.

Y/n refrained from thinking about how amazing he looked under the fluorescent lights with his tousled hair and apprehensive gaze. He could bring up his nightmares or sleepwalking, and she would feel so guilty for perving over his eyes.

“You looked very nice in that dress yesterday.” Y/n felt like a lump was forming in her throat. He was going to say something like this and think it's an off handed comment but she would go to the bathroom and cry because she knew nothing would come from it. Y/n thought it was a bit cruel.

“You looked so beautiful yesterday it was hard for me to look at you without making a fucking idiot out of myself. I wanted to run over to you and tell you that as soon as you left but Richie told me you're going on a date and it was…”

Carmen continued, “You are special and you deserve someone who isn’t…me. And you're free to do whatever and if this is completely …wrong…bad…i don't know, just stop me and we will never talk about this ever again…”

He searched y/n’s eyes looking for a sliver of doubt or disgust but he was met with glassy eyes and a look that longed for him to continue.

“When I thought you were going on that date I knew that I couldn’t not have you and that made me feel….” A sigh reverberated through the kitchen.

“ I like you…romantically.” Carmen uttered.

Y/n didn’t say or do anything for a moment, she spent a few moments wondering if she was hallucinating or dreaming. And in a moment of pure adrenaline, she scooted over to Carmen who was still on the floor before cupping his face in her hands and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

The kiss wasn't electrifying; it felt like a wave of warmth seeped into every corner of their beings. It felt like dipping your hand in warm water after shovelling the show, the type of warmth that sends shivers down your spine. Y/n fingers get lost in his wavy hair and his hands hesitate, not knowing where they should go before landing one on her hip and the other on the back of her neck to pull her closer. Y/n heart was beating so hard she wondered stupidly if he could hear it, Carmen was wondering something similar. They slowly pulled away for air before getting a good look at each other, both their lips were swollen and red and their eyes were dazed.

Y/n knew he was a flighty person, one wrong move and he would go running for the hills so she refrained from asking if they were dating now, this could have just been a one time thing and she didn’t want to ruin it. Thankfully Carmen held her hand and stroked it with her thumb before swinging his head down and looking up at her.

“I want to be with you y/n”

“I like you too, Carmen, for a very long time.” And their lips meet once again.

Y/n resisted the urge to say that she only bought the dress in the hopes that he would take it off of her, that was a story for another time.

“Let's get you home” Carmen mumbled into her lips, the vibrations and the friction making her lips burn in sensitivity.

Carmen helped y/n get up before they both packed up their stuff and headed out the door. Both hiding the smile of triumph from each other, not really knowing how much the other loves them yet, and only time would remedy that.

[wooattackrr]

Opposites Attract

MDNI

word count: 1,704

a/n: as I was writing this I realised most of my fics are school plot

——————————————————————

You had always been the studious one, the kind of student who could ace exams without breaking a sweat. Mingyu, on the other hand, was the quintessential class clown—loud, unpredictable, and always the center of attention. His antics had made him a legend in your high school, but you never expected the two of you would ever spend time together outside of class.

However, that all changed when the teacher announced mandatory tutoring sessions for struggling students. To your surprise, the person assigned to your group was none other than Mingyu himself. You were apprehensive about it at first; after all, you knew how he could be. Would he be serious about his studies, or just use the time as another opportunity for jokes and laughter?

The first few sessions were exactly what you expected. Mingyu would arrive with a quick grin and a barrage of puns that could make anyone groan. You would roll your eyes and get back to work, trying to make the most of your time with him. But slowly, as the days passed, you began to appreciate his humor more. Beneath the façade of the class clown, you discovered a more thoughtful side to Mingyu. He wanted to improve, and with your help, he actually started to.

Your meetings eventually shifted from awkward and frustrating to enjoyable and filled with banter. You would laugh at his silly jokes and tease him about his notorious reputation, while he would engage attentively with the material, even occasionally asking for clarification on topics he found difficult. It was surprising how he could change from a playful joker to a focused student in the span of just a few minutes.

One Wednesday afternoon, as winter settled in and the sun began to set early, you both found yourselves deep into a particularly challenging math problem in the quiet confines of the local library. You were seated at a large, wooden table illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp, surrounded by bookshelves stacked high with novels and textbooks.

"Okay, explain this part again," Mingyu said, resting his head on one hand, his expression half-focused, half-exasperated. Your fingers traced the numbers on the paper as you explained the concept of quadratic equations.

“Imagine it like a jump,” you said, enthusiastically drawing an exaggerated parabola in the air with your free hand. “When you throw a ball, it goes up, then comes down. The highest point is the maximum value, and the whole trajectory is shaped like a curve, just like this.”

Mingyu mimicked your hand movements, a smirk dancing on his lips. “So you’re saying if I throw a ball really hard, I’ll pass this math test?”

You laughed. “If only it were that simple.”

The hours flew by, marked only by the ticking clock on the wall and the occasional rustle of paper. You had both lost track of time. It wasn't until the library announced its closing for the night that you realized how late it had gotten.

"Oh no, we're locked in!" Mingyu exclaimed, looking around furtively as you both realized the entrance doors were indeed shut tight. "What are we going to do? We’ll be trapped here forever!"

“Calm down,” you said, trying to mask your unease with a shrug. “We’ll just wait for someone to come back and let us out.”

“Yeah, right,” Mingyu said, plopping down in a chair dramatically. “I’d probably just start doing my stand-up routine to keep myself entertained until then.”

The playful banter continued as you both settled into the unexpected situation, and soon, you found yourselves in a comfortable silence surrounded by the stories that lined the walls of the library. But in that quiet moment, Mingyu turned to you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Since it’s just us here, do you want to hear a secret?” he asked, leaning closer with intrigue. There was a moment of tension, a thin line drawn between the humor and seriousness you both shared.

“A secret? From you?” you teased. “I’m not sure I trust you to keep it.”

Mingyu feigned offense. “I promise! No jokes. Just… honest.”

“Alright, then,” you said, your interest piqued. “Let’s hear it.”

“I think you’re really smart,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “And I mean, smart-smart. Like, you get all the answers and I can barely figure out which number comes next.”

You blinked, taken aback by the honesty in that statement. “That’s sweet of you to say, but it’s just studying.”

"But you study because you care," he replied, sincerity etched on his face. “You don’t just do it to get grades… you want to help others, too.”

His gaze was steady, and for a moment, the classroom antics and the laughter faded away. It was just the two of you—Mingyu and you caught in an unexpected act of vulnerability. You felt a warmth rise within you, something you hadn’t anticipated.

“Mingyu…” you began, unsure of where this conversation was leading. But before you could finish your thought, he shifted closer, the distance between you shrinking until it felt electric.

“Mingyu!” you exclaimed, half in surprise, half in protest, yet your heart raced with an excitement you couldn’t quite analyze.

“I’ve been thinking…” he murmured, inching even closer, his face a mere breath away from yours. “Maybe I’ve been hiding behind jokes and laughter… but I really like spending time with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his honesty washed over you. It was unexpected but refreshing. In that moment, the world around you melted away until it was just the two of you, the quiet library filled with unspoken possibilities.

And then he leaned in.

The kiss was tentative at first, a gentle exploration filled with the hope and curiosity that had been building up over your shared laughter and late-night study sessions. As his lips brushed against yours, the world seemed to stand still. It felt like the climax of a romantic movie—two unlikely characters drawn together by the most unexpected circumstances, finding a connection they never knew was possible.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, you knew that this moment would redefine everything. Mingyu’s expression shifted from the playful, buoyant energy that was so familiar to him to an earnest vulnerability that left you speechless.

With newfound determination, you guided his hand back to where you had left off. As his fingers traced the sensitive folds of your skin, you couldn't help but moan in delight. He teased and pleasured you until your body was quivering with anticipation.

Just as you were about to reach your peak, Mingyu gently turned you around and lowered you onto one of the library tables. The bookshelves loomed over you, their silent pages bearing witness to your stolen passion. Mingyu entered you slowly and deliberately, his every thrust setting off fireworks within your body.

You cried out in ecstasy as he filled you completely. Your nails dug into his back as he pounded into you, his hips moving in a rhythmic dance that sent shockwaves through both of you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer until you could feel every inch of his hardness within you.

The climax hit you both like a tidal wave. You screamed out in pleasure as Mingyu's seed erupted deep inside of you, mingling with your own sweet fluids. He collapsed on top of you, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of your shared passion.

As you lay there entwined in each other's arms, you realized that your hidden love for Mingyu had blossomed into something more profound. It was a love that transcended the confines of the library and the boundaries of your wildest dreams.

With the first glimmer of dawn, Mingyu helped you to your feet and kissed you softly. 'I never would have imagined this,' he whispered, his voice filled with wonder. 'But I'm so glad it happened.'

You smiled up at him, your heart filled with a joy that you had never known. 'Me too, Mingyu,' you replied. 'Me too.'


——————————————————————

fromis comeback !

[fayelero]

Hi!! Could I ask for something with Post-Timeskip atsumu miya with a reader who also plays professional volleyball. And like a setter x hitter dynamic.

Thank you! <33

-GIRLFRIEND IN TRAINING ! timeskip!atsumu

➥ pr : timeskip!atsumu x fem!reader

➥ syn : what about Atsumu and a spiker reader ? Setter x hitter dynamic :)

➥ wc : 4.5k

➥ tw : kisses, cuddles and pure fluff. Atsumu is a prover and slightly but soooo slightly a perv…

➥ a/n : thanks for this request!! so good idea ! hope u like it :) (and sorry for the delay) I drifted a bit and it turned out to be long lmaaoooo but I like it.

The afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the training facility, casting long shadows across the polished court floor. You wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead, adjusting your practice outfit - the white Lululemon set Atsumu had given you for your anniversary last month. Three years together, and somehow every day felt as exciting as the first.

"One more!" you called out, bouncing the volleyball against the floor. Your legs were starting to feel the burn after an hour of practice, but you couldn't help wanting just one more perfect set from your boyfriend.

Atsumu caught the ball with practiced ease, a playful smirk crossing his features. "Tired already? And here I thought dating a national team spiker would give me more of a challenge." He flexed dramatically, making you roll your eyes even as you fought back a smile.

"Just set the ball, you dork," you laughed, getting into position for your approach. After countless hours of practice together - both with your respective teams and during these private sessions - you could read each other's movements like a well-worn book.

The ball left his fingers in a perfect arc, and you could already tell it would be exactly where you wanted it. That was Atsumu's gift - not just his technical skill, but his ability to bring out the absolute best in his spikers. Your feet left the ground as you reached the apex of your jump, arm cocked back.

The satisfying smack of your palm meeting the ball echoed through the gym, followed by the sharp crack of it hitting the court just inside the line. Perfect placement.

"Show off," Atsumu teased, though his eyes were bright with pride. "Though I guess I can't complain when my girlfriend's the best spiker in the women's division."

You wiped your face with a towel, trying to hide your blush. "The set was a little low," you commented with faux criticism, knowing it would rile him up.

As expected, Atsumu's jaw dropped in exaggerated offense. "Low? That was a perfect set and you know it!" He crossed the court in a few quick strides, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind despite your halfhearted struggles to escape.

"Maybe if you weren't so busy flexing and actually focused on setting..." you continued teasing, turning in his embrace to face him.

"Oh? So you weren't sneaking glances at these guns?" He flexed again, making you laugh and push at his chest.

"You're impossible," you declared, though you couldn't keep the fondness from your voice. This was your favorite part of dating Atsumu - the way you could seamlessly blend your shared passion for volleyball with moments of pure playfulness.

The late afternoon light painted everything in warm golden tones, reminding you of how many hours had passed. "We should probably wrap up," you suggested reluctantly. "Don't you have team practice early tomorrow?"

Atsumu groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Don't remind me. Coach Foster's been brutal with conditioning lately. Says we need to be in top form for the upcoming tournament."

You ran your fingers through his damp hair sympathetically. "Poor baby. Though I seem to remember someone bragging about being the best setter in the V.League just yesterday..."

"I am the best setter in the V.League," he declared without a hint of modesty, making you snort. "And you love it."

You couldn't argue with that. For all his showboating and occasional arrogance, Atsumu backed it up with genuine skill and an unmatched work ethic. It was one of the things that had first drawn you to him - the way he poured his whole heart into everything he did, whether it was perfecting a new set or loving you.

"Come on," you said, extracting yourself from his embrace. "Help me clean up and then we can grab dinner? I'm thinking ramen."

"Only if you admit that set was perfect," he bargained, already moving to help collect the scattered volleyballs.

You pretended to think about it as you began breaking down the net. "Hmm... it was adequate."

"Adequate?!" His indignant squawk echoed through the gym, making you laugh. Some things never changed - and you wouldn't have it any other way.

As you worked together to restore the gym to order, you couldn't help but marvel at how naturally you'd fallen into this rhythm together. From national team commitments to stolen moments of practice like this, you'd built something special - a partnership that worked both on and off the court.

"Fine," you conceded as you zipped up your gym bag, unable to resist his puppy dog eyes any longer. "It was a perfect set. Happy now?"

His answering smile was brighter than the setting sun. "Almost," he said, pulling you in for a quick kiss. "Now I'm happy."

You shook your head fondly as you headed for the door together, his arm draped comfortably around your shoulders. Another perfect evening in a long string of them, filled with the two things you loved most - volleyball and Atsumu.

As you walked to your favorite ramen shop, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have found someone who understood both your competitive drive and your playful side. Someone who could challenge you to be better while loving you exactly as you were.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Atsumu asked, noticing your thoughtful expression.

You smiled, leaning into his side. "Just how much I love you, you big volleyball nerd."

"Look who's calling who a volleyball nerd," he laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But I love you too."

The small ramen shop was bustling with evening customers, but the owner's face lit up with recognition as you and Atsumu ducked under the noren curtains. Being regulars had its perks - your favorite corner booth was mysteriously always available, tucked away from prying eyes that might recognize either of you from sports magazines or national team coverage.

"Ah, my favorite volleyball couple!" the elderly owner called out warmly. "The usual?"

"Actually," Atsumu interrupted before you could answer, "can we get the special tonight? Y'know, the one with the extra chashu?" He turned to you with that soft smile he seemed to reserve just for you. "You mentioned being hungry after practice."

You felt your heart flutter. After three years, he still noticed every little detail about you. "Always taking care of me, aren't you?"

"Someone has to make sure Japan's best spiker stays well-fed," he replied with a wink, pulling out your chair before settling across from you. His foot immediately found yours under the table, initiating your usual game of footsie.

"I thought Bokuto was Japan's best spiker?" you teased, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. As expected, Atsumu's face scrunched up in mock offense.

"Yer really gonna bring up another man on our date?" He clutched his chest dramatically. "After I set you all those perfect balls today?"

"Oh? They were perfect now? Because I distinctly remember someone getting very defensive when I suggested one was a little low..." You couldn't help but laugh at his increasingly exaggerated expressions of betrayal.

"Mean," he pouted, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Here I am, being the most attentive boyfriend in all of Japan-"

"All of Japan, huh?"

"The world!" he declared, making nearby diners glance over at his enthusiasm. He lowered his voice, leaning across the table conspiratorially. "Name one other setter who'd stay late just to practice with their girlfriend."

"Kageyama?" you suggested innocently.

Atsumu nearly choked on his water. "That's it, I'm breaking up with you," he announced, though his attempt at a serious expression was ruined by the way he couldn't stop staring at you adoringly. "As soon as we finish this ramen. And dessert. And maybe after I walk you home. And kiss you goodnight..."

"So tomorrow then?"

"Tomorrow's no good, we have that couple's practice session planned," he mused thoughtfully. "Maybe next week?"

Your laughter was interrupted by the arrival of your ramen, the steam rising enticingly from the rich broth. Atsumu immediately began arranging your bowl, making sure all your favorite toppings were easily accessible - just one of the countless little ways he showed his love.

"Here," he said, picking up a particularly perfect slice of chashu with his chopsticks and holding it out to you. "Say 'ahh'."

You rolled your eyes but complied, letting him feed you. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," he countered without missing a beat, preening when your cheeks flushed pink.

"That was terrible," you groaned, but you were already picking up a perfectly boiled egg to offer him in return. His triumphant grin as he accepted it made your heart skip.

The conversation flowed easily as you ate, discussing everything from upcoming matches to the latest team gossip. Atsumu's hand found yours across the table between bites, his thumb absently tracing patterns on your skin.

"Oh! Did I tell ya about what Bokuto did at practice yesterday?" His eyes lit up with mischief as he launched into an animated story about his teammate's latest antics, complete with impressions that had you clutching your sides with laughter.

"Stop, stop," you gasped, wiping tears from your eyes. "I'm going to get broth up my nose!"

"But you love my Bokkun impression," he preened, before his expression softened into something more serious. "I love making you laugh like that."

The sudden sincerity in his voice made your heart stutter. That was another thing about Atsumu - for all his playful bravado, he had moments of such genuine sweetness that it took your breath away.

"I love you," you said simply, because sometimes the straightforward truth was best.

His whole face lit up, like it did every time you said those words. "Yeah?" He brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Good thing, 'cause I'm pretty crazy about you too."

The owner appeared then with two small cups of green tea ice cream - on the house, he insisted, though you strongly suspected Atsumu had arranged it beforehand. Your boyfriend's pleased expression when you discovered the heart drawn in matcha powder on top confirmed your suspicions.

"You're such a sap," you told him fondly.

"Only for you," he agreed shamelessly, offering you the first bite of his ice cream. "Besides, I gotta make sure I stay your favorite setter. Can't have you running off with Kageyama after all."

You kicked him lightly under the table. "As if anyone could compare to my perfectly adequate setter."

"Oi!" His indignant response was cut short by your leaning across the table to kiss him, tasting sweet green tea on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was dazed and happy. "Okay, maybe I can forgive the 'adequate' comment. This time."

The evening wrapped up too quickly, as it always did when you were together. Atsumu insisted on paying - "My treat for my favorite spiker" - and tucked you under his arm as you stepped out into the cool night air.

"Practice again tomorrow?" he asked hopefully, as if you didn't already have it planned.

"Wouldn't miss it," you assured him, rising on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Someone has to keep your setting skills sharp."

His answering laugh was warm and full of affection. "Lucky me."

As you walked home hand in hand, you couldn't help but think that you were the lucky one. For all his dramatics and playful arrogance, Atsumu loved with his whole heart - whether it was volleyball or you.

—

The luxurious bathroom in your shared apartment steamed up as the shower ran hot, fog creeping across the large mirror. You'd both grown accustomed to the little dance of sharing the spacious bathroom during your nighttime routine, moving around each other with practiced ease.

"Babe, can you pass me my face wash?" you called out, holding your hand out of the shower. Atsumu's warm chuckle preceded the bottle being placed in your palm.

"The fancy one with the little gold flecks?" he confirmed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "The one you insisted was worth half my week's grocery budget?"

"Says the man who spends a fortune on volleyball shoes," you shot back, working the cleanser into a lather. The familiar scent of jasmine filled the steamy air.

"Hey, those are professional expenses!" He was at the sink now, carefully applying shaving cream to the light stubble that had appeared over the past couple days. "Though I guess keeping your skin this soft could count as a professional expense too, considering how many sports magazine shoots you do these days."

You peeked around the shower door to stick your tongue out at him, catching him mid-stroke with his razor. His hair was cutely mussed from running his hands through it, and a bit of shaving cream had somehow ended up on his ear.

"You missed a spot," you informed him helpfully, gesturing to your own ear.

"What? Where?" He turned his head back and forth, examining his reflection in the slightly foggy mirror. "I don't see- hey!" He finally caught your grin in the reflection. "Yer just trying to distract me."

"Is it working?"

"Always," he admitted with a fond shake of his head, carefully finishing up his shaving. "Though I still don't understand how you can support Brazil in tomorrow's match. America's got some amazing servers this season."

You shut off the shower, reaching for your fluffy towel. "Spoken like someone who's never seen Bruno set in person. His technique is absolutely beautiful."

"Oi!" Atsumu spun around, razor forgotten. "Are you saying his sets are better than mine?"

You wrapped the towel around yourself, stepping out to press a kiss to his pouty lips. "Of course not, baby. Your sets are perfectly adequate, remember?"

He groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope!" You wiggled away from him, moving to your extensive skincare collection arranged neatly on the marble counter. "Now, speaking of beautiful things..." You pulled out two sheet masks with a flourish.

Atsumu's eyes widened in horror. "Oh no. No, no, no. Last time you put one of those on me, I looked like a swamp monster!"

"But your skin was so glowy afterward," you wheedled, already opening one of the packages. "Come on, it's green tea and cucumber. Very manly ingredients!"

"There is nothing manly about looking like Shrek," he protested, but you could see him wavering. Three years together had taught you exactly how to wear him down - a slight pout, wide eyes, and...

"Please? For me?" You batted your eyelashes exaggeratedly. "I'll let you pick what we watch while we wait for them to work their magic."

He heaved a dramatic sigh, but you could see the smile tugging at his lips. "The things I do for love. Fine, but if Bokuto somehow finds out about this..."

"Your secret beauty routine is safe with me," you promised solemnly, reaching up to smooth the cool mask over his freshly-shaved skin. He scrunched his nose at the sensation but held obligingly still.

"I look ridiculous," he complained, catching sight of himself in the mirror.

"You look adorable," you corrected, carefully applying your own mask before starting on the rest of your routine. Atsumu watched with fascination as you methodically applied various serums and creams.

"How do you remember what order to put all that stuff in?" he wondered, absently reaching for one of the bottles before you swatted his hand away.

"Years of practice. Also, I labeled them with numbers," you admitted, showing him the tiny numbers you'd written on the bottom of each container. His laugh echoed off the bathroom tiles.

"That's my organized girl," he said fondly, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and hooking his chin over your shoulder. "Though I think you're beautiful without all this stuff too."

You met his eyes in the mirror, both of you looking absolutely ridiculous with your green masks, and felt your heart swell with affection. "Smooth talker."

"Only stating facts," he insisted, pressing a masked kiss to your shoulder that made you giggle.

Twenty minutes later, after finishing your routines and disposing of the masks ("See? Glowy!" "If you say so, baby."), you padded into the bedroom. While Atsumu brushed his teeth, you rifled through his side of the closet, pulling out one of his Black Jackals jerseys.

"Stealing my clothes again?" he called out, voice muffled around his toothbrush.

"It's not stealing if I live here," you reasoned, pulling the oversized jersey over your head. The familiar number 13 stretched across your back, and even though you'd been sleeping next to him for years now, something about wearing his jersey still made you feel specially connected to him.

"Besides," you added as he emerged from the bathroom, "you love seeing me in your jersey."

His eyes darkened appreciatively as he took in the sight of you perched on the edge of the king-sized bed, his name and number displayed across your back. "Can't argue with that."

You crawled under the plush covers while he queued up the pre-recorded America vs Brazil match on the bedroom's wall-mounted TV. The familiar sounds of a volleyball game filled the room as he slid in beside you, immediately pulling you close against his chest.

"Ten bucks says America takes the first set," he murmured into your hair.

"You're on," you agreed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Brazil's reception has been solid lately."

As you watched the match unfold, you traded commentary and friendly arguments about technique, occasionally interrupted by sleepy kisses and gentle teasing. When Brazil indeed took the first set, you couldn't resist a smug "told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," Atsumu yawned, nuzzling into your neck. "You're just lucky Bruno had a good day."

"Mmm, keep telling yourself that," you mumbled, feeling sleep starting to tug at your consciousness. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his skin care products (which he pretended weren't just as expensive as yours) were making your eyelids heavy.

Atsumu reached for the remote, turning off the TV and plunging the room into comfortable darkness. "Love you," he whispered, pressing one last kiss to your temple.

"Love you too," you managed through another yawn, tangling your legs with his. "Even if your sets are only adequate."

His quiet laugh was the last thing you heard as you drifted off to sleep, secure in his muscular arms and knowledge that you'd wake up to another day of perfectly imperfect moments with your favorite setter.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ always on your mind ]❜

ft. jean grey x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you’re unable to admit your feelings toward her, but she finds it cute┊2.1k words

contains: some suggestive lines, reader is a disaster gay & a chronic liar in denial, actually everyone in this is gay, getting together, scott/logan, reader is shorter than jean (famke janssen is 6ft tall i’m so unwell) 

➤ author's note: reader is just like me because i too would try to convince myself that i was jealous of someone like her but i’m in denial about how much i want someone like her. i know because that was me with my friend uhhhhhh

“she looks different today…” you sighed, almost dreamily, taking a sip of your green tea sweetened with honey.

ororo followed your gaze to the redhead, tilting her head and squinting a little, trying to figure out what the fuck you were talking about. it was way too early to be playing spot the difference, and while she knows that she shouldn’t entertain your nonsense, she’s still curious about what you’re talking about. “she looks the same as she always does?”

“no, she’s wearing her hair differently.”

she turned to look at her again, grateful that she seemed to be heavily immersed in whatever she was doing to notice the two of you having a not-so-discreet conversation with her as the topic. “how??”

“it’s more curly at the bottom than usual, and there’s a bit more hairspray too,” you explained like it was obvious. “also, she’s wearing a different shade of lipgloss, it’s more red and a little sparkly.”

she’s still stunningly beautiful as always, you don’t think it would change even if she just rolled out of bed. her red locks framed her face perfectly, eyes fluttered half-shut as she examined some papers on the table with her glasses neatly situated at the tip of her nose, kissable lips slightly parted in thought— casually sitting pretty like a painting of aphrodite’s second cousin in skinny jeans, tennis shoes, and a jacket. 

“why are you… why are you staring at her lips?”

“i am not staring at her lips, i’m just a perceptive person.”

“you didn’t even notice when i changed my hair last week even though everyone was complimenting it, don’t lie to me. you have it bad for her, just admit it!”

“i’m just jealous of little miss perfect, okay?” you declared, putting your hands up in mock surrender. “miss perfect and her perfect hair, perfect face, perfect body—” your voice trailed off when you realized that there was a romantic undertone to it.

she rolled her eyes at you, knowing that you have been using the damn jealousy excuse ever since she first called you out on your fixation on jean grey. it’s not even an excuse at this point, it’s more like a way to end the conversation because it never went anywhere even though it’s been held more times than she could count.

there is nothing jealous or heterosexual about the look in your eyes whenever you see her. frankly, your best friend has no idea why you were denying your feelings so adamantly, but she doesn’t think you know why either. the doctor seemed to always be on your mind, always holding your full attention and always making you flustered when you had hers.

you remained silent as you watched her call over the wolverine, watching the way he got a little too close to her for your liking and the way she smiled at him as she whispered something, feeling your hand subconsciously ball up into a fist so tightly that your knuckles turned white. an inexplicable rage was starting to build up in your gut, one that you’ve learned to grow familiar with. it was even worse when it was with scott, when he was looking at her with so much affection it made his glasses seem like they were rose-tinted lenses.

“and you’re still trying to convince me you don’t have a crush on her?”

“no, i don’t have a crush on her, i have a crush on…” you paused for a second, trying to remember the new guy’s name, ”...logan.”

she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at you like you were stupid, “really? logan?” her tone was sarcastic and you could hear the laugh in her voice, “have you even talked to him since he got here? other than introductions?”

“who knows, maybe he has some sort of charm that just draws me in?” it read as sarcasm, but your tone of voice made it sound like you were actually trying to convince her even though it wasn’t the least bit believable, not even a child would take your words for a fact. 

“oh please, you wouldn’t crush on logan before crushing on me. you may lie as easily as you breathe, but you can’t fool me regarding this matter!”

“damn, i didn’t know you were telepathic too— i hate that you’re right,” you groaned. you’re absolutely hopeless, pinning for a woman who already had a boyfriend and was probably straight. saying that your feelings for her were out of envy sounds about right to most, making it seem like a touchy subject no one dared to bring up, but anyone who has heard you talk about her for two minutes would understand the truth.

you were just terrified of rejection, and it’s easier to deny your growing attraction and to chalk it up as something else instead of bottling it up until it exploded.

jean grabbed her papers and tapped the bottom edges on the table a few times to straighten them out before leaving, and logan was now making his way toward you and ororo. your eyes widened and you shifted your stare to your lap in panic as he approached you, clearing his throat, “um, jean said she wanted to see you in the greenhouse.” 

you inhaled sharply, “oh, okay…” waiting until he left, you gently placed your ceramic mug on the coaster before slamming your head on the table, “i’m so fucked, she’s going to call me out for being a creep who can’t stop staring at her like she’s a fucking goddess come to earth or something.”

“well, you’ll only know if you go meet her,” your friend shrugged. you made your bed and now you have to lay in it, she’s already done all she could to help you by suggesting that you should simply accept your feelings and a possible awkward confrontation would have been avoided.

after a moment of silence with the request suspended in the air, you sluggishly finished off the contents of your cup and lazily rinsed it off in the sink. “alright, wish me luck because god knows i’m going to need it…”

you left before she could make a snarky remark, making your way over to your destination with impending doom slowly weighing itself on your shoulders as you adjusted your appearance to make yourself look just a bit better. you were absolutely terrified of being called out, even if jean would be in the right to do so because it probably made her uncomfortable, and each step made you feel like you were inching closer to an execution.

(clearly, you’re being overdramatic and her setting boundaries isn’t the end of the world, but you think you would probably end it all if you learned that she had negative feelings toward you like disgust or something.)

the door to the greenhouse made you cringe as the hinges creaked, allowing you to see that it was completely empty without any students and fiery red hair making the only other soul in the room stand out amongst the greenery (not like she wouldn’t stand out to you in a room of hundreds). she looked up at you and smiled as you shut the door behind you for some privacy. “so… uh…” god, you’re absolutely fucking useless when it comes to talking to pretty women you weren’t well-acquainted with. “you wanted to see me?”

she hummed in confirmation with a smile, gesturing you to sit across from her and making you even more nervous that this was going to take a sharp direction for the worse. “don’t worry, you’re not in trouble or anything.”

her lighthearted tone and little jest of talking to you like a student instead of a co-worker honestly didn’t do much to help you relax as you took your seat, hands in your lap and anxiously fidgeting with your fingers while waiting for her to continue. 

“so…” she took off her glasses and looked at you with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, “you think i have kissable lips, huh? is that a feature of mine that you’re jealous of?” 

you felt your heart drop and almost choked on your spit, trying to clear your throat as subtly as possible while heat rushed to your face. you were so wrapped in admiration earlier that you didn’t even consider that she was only pretending to look over her paperwork and was actually reading your mind during the entire exchange with ororo.

oh god, what if she’s also read your mind on other occasions? you’re so screwed, you have had more… sinful thoughts about her in other instances— is that why she smiled at you in that way when you ran into her in the middle of the night in the kitchen when she was wearing that really sexy tank top? you wanted to crawl into a hole and die, this was so embarrassing.

instead of admitting it like a normal person when cornered, you impulsively lied again, “i-i have no idea what you’re talking about!” you wanted to kick yourself, are you really trying to convince a mutant with telepathy powers that she was wrong about how you felt about her when she could literally read you like a book— what the fuck are you doing, you need to fess up already?!

she chuckled, “you’re cute.” her response made you sit up straight in a panic from how unexpected it was, which only made her smile widen as she started to giggle. “tell you what,” she started, getting up from her swivel stool and making her way over to stand in front of you.

it didn’t help that you were seated, but having her so close like it reminded you of just how tall she was. her long, slender legs were accentuated in the pants she wore, and they helped her look down on you while you looked up at her in a way that could only be described as— in lack of a better phrase— a gay panic.

“if you don’t like this, then feel free to slap me.”

before you could ask what she was talking about, her hands reached out to hold both sides of your face, pulling herself toward to kiss you on the lips. you were in too much shock to really react in any way, unsure if you were dreaming or if this was reality. the entire world seemed to stop spinning and stilled just for you to experience what it was like to be kissed by jean grey. her lips were so soft and tasted of cherry, something straight out of a fantasy. 

her eyes slowly opened to meet yours, parting her lips from yours and straightening her posture. it was only for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity in heaven. you were absolute putty from her touch, which she didn’t need her powers to notice and she seemed proud of her effect on you. it’s one of the things she adores so much about you, how she could read you like an open book without telepathy when you were known as a mysterious person with more lies than anyone could keep up with. it gave her a sense of normalcy and pride, how it was just her and your best friend storm who could read you. “so, are you still ‘jealous’ of me, or are you willing to admit it’s something more?”

“i think i’m just jealous about how you were able to take my breath away with a single kiss… and of scott…” you managed to say, not able to feel proud of your witty comment like you usually would be when adrenaline was still pumping in your veins unable to escape your body that’s been frozen like a statue from the action. after a moment of silence, your face changed from one of bliss to one of mortification, “wait, how often do you read my mind??”

“oh, i’m always on your mind.” your mouth slacked open before you covered it with your mouth, feeling incredibly embarrassed because your thoughts about her have ranged from admiration of her beauty to wondering about what it was like to date her to— “by the way, do you wanna have a sleepover in my room tonight? we’ll get to know each other better, and i’m sure it could satisfy your other curiosities about me,” she whispered lowly into your ear, making shivers shoot down your spine.

you were so flustered that you felt the need to cover your entire face with your hands, an adorable sight to jean as you nodded. “t-that sounds perfect… but… what about scott?”

“oh, don’t worry about him, we split more than a week ago on good terms once we realized we both had our ‘preferences.’ besides, he’s been secretly spending a lot of time with logan lately despite how they behave around others— i think we’re going to hear about another new couple soon,” she winked, holding onto you arm-in-arm and ready to show you off to the inhabitants of the mansion.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unwanted 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, insults, body insecurity, perversion, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You’re used to being unwanted, but a strange man might just convince you that’s a good thing.

Note: this is a sequel to Unsolicited/Unexpected, but with a different reader. This is Lloyd’s sequel. Peaches is flourishing somewhere else.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The only thing you like about work is that it’s an excuse to get out of the house. You can only go for so many walks or wander around the library for so long before you start to feel weird. The fact that you hate being at home is enough to make your shifts less of a slog, even if they aren’t very exciting. 

As neither your parents or Derrick will let you borrow their cars and the buses don’t run before five, you are left to Uber to the warehouse. It’s more than you’d like to spend and could be used towards saving for your own vehicle, but that’s no their problem. 

You sit silently in the back seat as the driver plays his indie rock music and rolls through the winter morning. You tuck your chin down into your jacket and watch out the window. There’s a glint of headlights off the glass. It’s a bit early to see others on the road but you suppose others have painfully early start times. 

You tip the driver before you get out and thank him softly. He doesn’t acknowledge you. You’re used to it. He must drive so many people that you’re barely a thought in his head. 

As he backs up, another car approaches but drives by. Hm. This far out, you only ever see the other employees around. Oh well. You’re noticing odd things for no real reason. 

You go inside and clock in. Mikey sends you to start unloading as he sits at his command center. He only ever sits their chewing gum and signing papers, then scrolls through the orders that come in. You and Judy are the only women there and the men tend to travel in a pack. Even when you’re cutting bubble wrap with Ryan, you don’t get much conversation in. 

It’s dull work. Like the others, you’ve fallen into the habit of getting through with one earbud in. Music on low as you scan and haul and take your turn on the forklift. The hours unwravel slowly and you only get one break. You’re entitled to two but no one ever takes that many, not unless they want their hours cut. 

Despite the weather, you eat outside. You’re not very hungry, so you just sip from your thermos as you lean again the brick wall and stare out at the other industrial lots. There’s that car again... Or maybe it’s not. 

You continue to sip on your tea and cap it up. As you stand straight to go inside, the car reverses route and drives back around. This time, it turns in between the chain link. There are no new hires, all the seasonal ones are in place but maybe it’s one of suits come to do a surprise inspection. 

The red car veers in crookedly next to one of the many pickup trucks. You slowly head towards the door, feeling around for your lanyard where your ID hangs. Before you can turn to scan it, there’s a whistle in the air. 

“Hey, lollipop, where are you runnin’ away to so fast?” The voice calls out. 

You twitch in surprise. No. It can’t be. You shouldn’t recognise the timbre, you only met the man once, but you haven’t really been able to shake that memory. You turn back to face him as he crosses the lot, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket as he puffs out a thick cloud. 

“Shit, it’s cold as balls,” he says, “speaking of, how about you warm mine up?” 

You grimace and shake your head, “what are you doing here?” 

“I knew you couldn’t forget me,” he snorts. “Come on, baby cake, I’m here to spice up the bland existence you call a life.” 

“How--” 

“Don’t matter how,” he tilts his head, “and let me just tell you, you don’t wanna know the answer. Come on, think about it, I’m showing commitment here.” He smirks, “how many guys can you say put in that much effort?” 

You clasp your thermos tight, “I don’t know you.” 

“Sure ya do, told ya, name’s Lloyd,” he winks, “and you’re...” 

As he says your name, your blood runs cold. It’s possible he heard Derrick say it. Maybe. But that’s a bit too convenient. 

“Go,” you warn. 

“Ah, don’t be like that. I’m being nice so far,” he pleads. “You know, I just wanted to tell ya that the backyward, the keister, the old cushion, is spectacular--” 

“Ew, please, leave me alone.” You spin around and bring your card up to the scanner. It beeps but you’re yanked back by your elbow. Your adrenaline piques and you swing out with your half-empty thermos. It bounces off his shoulder as he lets you go. “Oh!” You recoil in surprise of your own reaction, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just—I don’t want to hurt you. Just please, go away.” 

“Ah, sugar cake, you really think that hurt? Look at me. I’m a strong guy,” He flexes his arms and chest. “Built, huh? You should think this out. I’m a real catch.” 

“I...no thank you.” 

“You’re playing hard to get. I understand. That’s what they say you should do but let me tell ya, baby, no fun in life denying the best parts,” he winks. 

“No!” You squeak and lean over, blindly swipe your card so it beeps once more. You push your elbow down on the handle and nearly fall through the door. Just as swiftly, you shut it and press yourself to the inside. 

There’s a thump from the other side. “Don’t worry, I like it this way.” 

You stand there, heart racing, confusion roiling in your skull. You can just hear his footfalls on the other side. There is no relief in hearing him go because by the sounds of it, he isn’t giving up. You just don’t understand why? Why you? And why is he doing this? 

[pablitogavii]

Hii i love your story’s I wanted to know if you can do a jealous Pablo/reader please thank you sm I love you

She’s my girl, tío!

You came to one of his trainings which Pablo usually ADORED but right now he was in a particularly bad mood seeing Joao staring you down.

“Que haces tío!?” He said after Pablo kicked the ball and it hit his head which angered the boy. You just giggled knowing exactly why your boyfriend did this. You know him that well ;)

“You’re not paying attention! Not my fault!” Pablo raises his arms as Xavi walked up and told them both to quit it.

“Do you see what happens when you distract my boys??” Xavi joked seeing you as his daughter and obviously knowing how crazy you are in love with Pablo, and only Pablo.

“Lo siento mister! Can I take my boy home early today??” You asked with puppy dog eyes and the man shook his head saying you can take him home right now.

“Before he kills my new striker!” He added as you jumped up running down towards the pitch to tell Pablo good news.

“Xavi said that we can go home cariño..” you said when Pablo ran to see why you were not sitting on the stands anymore.

“Cierto mister??” He asked having extra trainings every morning for the past week and the man nodded knowing he deserved a break before a big game.

“But no hamburguesa chaval!” Xavi said and Pablo blushed while you giggled promising be won’t eat anything off his diet day before the game.

“She’s the boss..” Pablo tapped Xavis shoulder and the man ruffled his sweaty hair.

“They always are chico” Xavi said and you thought it was adorable the relationship they had always looking like a father and a son.

“Vamos princesa!” He snaked his arm around your waist about to walk away but then Joao called you name and you turned around feeling Pablo’s hold tighten.

“Let me give you that signed shirt before you leave!” He said and you nodded while he ran back to the changing room. Your friend is his HUGE fan and begged you to ask for her so you did. Pablo didn’t know that and wondered why HIS girl wanted some other boys jersey!!? Oh now he was really in a bad mood!

“Here you go” he said giving you the T-shirt and Pablo watched your hands slightly touching as you grabbed it thanking him and leaving with Pablo shortly after.

He was in no mood for the rest of the day and you can clearly tell it was something to do with Joao so you started the topic firsts.

“Let’s just talk about it amor..porf?” You say sitting next to him feeling awful that he was not holding you like he always would during movie nights. Boy is a giant cuddler!!

“Nothing to talk about. You have every single version of my jersey but you want his! You wanna wear it for the next game!!?” He was already fuming mad but wasn’t yelling because he knew you didn’t like that. He always respected your boundaries even during arguments like this.

“Wear it!? It’s not even for me Pablo! Tu eres tan tonto cariño!” You chucked seeing his very much confused face.

“Pero..why did you ask for it then??” He asked and you moved closer straddling his lap and kissing his lips.

“For Maria! You know she’s crazy about Portuguese boys” you roll your eyes moving closer grinding slightly on Pablo’s lap and whispering into his ear “I don’t get what she sees tho..it’s the Spaniards that drive a girl loca” you kissed the side of his neck and he moaned smirked to himself.

“Spaniards!?” He said referring to the plural tense you used in your sentence.

“Hm..actually one Sevillano in particular is driving me absolutely loca!” You said and he smirked kissing you passionately and he kissed you back grabbing your bum roughly. Let's just say you had a fun night together ;))

The next day, you got ready wearing his jersey and some shorts knowing it would make your boy's mouth water like always. You liked he effect you had on his very much. Little did you know, it would catch someone else attention as well.

"And Y/n is so nice. Such a sweet girl!" Joao was talking to Lewa who took it upon himself to teach Pablo some proper English lately so he knew the boy could understand everything.

"I would watch my mouth, or Gavi might kill you kid!" man said walking towards Gavi tapping his shoulder and winking. He leaned in whispering "she's yours, so there is no worries" before leaving to the pitch to warm up.

"Felix!" Gavi called asking him to stay behind while everyone else left and Xavi asked them to make it quick.

"I'm gonna say this only once..she's my girl, tío!" he said touching Joao's shoulder and the boy nodded his head knowing that he needs to watch out his comments since he just now realized how serious Pablo was about you actually.

It wasn't unusual for footballers to be in non serious relationship, but yours was definitely not one of those and the boy needed to back up (or Gavi just might kill him).

"You're a lucky man" Joao said and Pablo nodded his head letting go and grabbing his water bottle.

"I know" he smirked before running out towards the pitch looking up at your happy face from the stands. He waved and you sent him a kiss turning around to show him his name on your back..yeah, you were all his and everyone knew it now ;)) <33 !!

In the end of first half, Pablo scored being assisted by Joao and they both rushed to celebrate together. It made you happy that they were still friends and colleagues at peace that it wouldn't affect their play.

Pablo kissed his jersey touching his heart and pointing to you as his new celebration and you blushed cheering and sending him a kiss as camera caught it.

"Amor!!" Joao pointed at the two of you yelling in the camera and Pablo smiled hugging him as they returned tot heir positions for the rest of the game.

I hope you like it <333

[imraespace]

LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE ─

─ WITH RIN ITOSHI !!

"I dare you."

"No."

"Triple dare you!"

"..."

"Ohh Rin!!"

"MEGURU!"

You shoved your hand in the boy's face, looking around to see if anyone heard him but everyone else was too focused on their own conversations, thankfully.

Your eyes landed on Rin's spot and realized that he isn't there.

You let out a sigh of relief and sat back down, glaring at the laughing male, who sits on your desk.

As of right now, Meguru is trying to get you to step inside of the library and find textbooks for HIMSELF along with Yoichi.

You promised your friends that you would help them with the areas they are currently struggling in but no one has yet to move to gather the materials.

Of course, Yoichi will browse around to find something that might help him, but Meguru wants you to personally see what will help him, AND physically help him as well.

And he's using his knowledge about you, against you.

"Hmm, yummy sweets, all for me!!?" He taunted, digging his hand into your bag.

"OKAY FINE!"

And with that, you stomped out of your classroom, looking back to see if Meguru actually ate any of your sweets.. He did, but at least it was only one.

It was an early school morning, normally you would arrive at school late, but these days you three arrive at the time you normally start to get ready.

So there are some new things you get to see like you noticed how Rin isn't present in the class in the early mornings, but always arrives late. He's in the school building because his shoes are switched in the cupboard.

Mindlessly walking, making your way to the library building, you had to step out of the main building but thankfully the field is near the area because if it wasn't, you wouldn't get to see the view you accidentally caught a glimpse at, it wasn't your fault honestly.

You stepped out, letting the morning sun soak into your body. It was a nice feeling. A few students passed by, some talking to their peers or some just exiting the library building.

Whoever's on the field right now was a bit too into their zone as suddenly a ball came rolling towards you and collided with your legs. It wasn't a forceful hit but it was enough to nudge you a bit.

Your eyes looked down at the football, that lays next to you. You looked up to see who was the culprit of the accident and found it to be Rin.

He was panting, a bit sweaty, and looking right at you. He was practicing early before school. Damn, just thinking about how much dedication he puts into this sport makes you wonder how much dedication he will put into his girlfriend.. Just thinking about it is making you blush like crazy.

Wait, he's making his way here, the ball!

Stopping your crazy delusions, you grabbed the ball from your feet and slowly brought it up to your face, inching it more and more to hide the heat on your face as he came closer. Your stupid thoughts..

"Sorry.."

"Huh?"

"For that." He said, gesturing at the ball.

"Oh, it's okay, I promise." You told him, smiling as if he could see it through the ball.

You gripped on the ball for a bit, he's waiting for it.

He's waiting for the ball, but the more you stare at him, the way his breathing slows down, and how that one strand sticks to his hair. Oh look at his eyes, they're staring down right at you, not to mention those eyelashes you're jealous of.. for many reasons now. Finally, the uniform that hugged his form so perfectly, you wished it was you.. WHAT?

On the inside a bomb just blew up, on the outside, you're finally giving him the ball, with a bit of force though. It caught you off guard, so you opened your mouth to make up some excuse. Yeah totally..

"Sorry! I was just admiring how much you put into football, y'know? Just thinking about it makes you seem so hot- WHAT! I mean, it's hot.. out here.. so.." Woah! How embarrassing can you be!!?

LUCKILY FOR YOU, Rin paid no mind to your words, just agreed to it.

"It is hot."

"It is.. like me." You muttered. Now he's staring at you, nodding.. NODDING?

"Yeah, you're sweating." Oh, he meant it like that.

"You too."

"Because I'm practicing."

"Yeah, I know."

Not a conversation you wished to have with Rin but at least it's one!

"Okay.. I'm gonna go to the library, have fun practicing!" And with that you ran off, leaving him alone with the ball in his hand.

He sighed, staring at your back.

He forgot to give you that silly sticky note. Again. As in the third day.

For some reason, for the past few days, after that one lunchtime you came to visit the team, you annoyingly caught his attention.

It's annoying and confusing the poor boy. Before he barely acknowledged your presence, you were in class and that's all. He only knew your name because it was the first in all subjects, that's all. So why now, all of a sudden, you're in his head?

Ever since that stupid shit you did with Yoichi's name on a note you gave him, he thought of you as weird and annoying. Then you began to open your mouth, admiring this and that, something he hadn't heard of from anyone besides his brother probably.

You're noticing the small things like his morning practice, and his empty water bottles all because you admire him.

Not only that, ever since you were given the role of helper in this team your whole behavior shifted, asking random questions and making friends. Just before that big match you always slept in class and never moved an inch. Is that why you maybe caught his attention?

Rin is so into his own motives and doings that these random thoughts that sneaked up on him is confusing him. Just before you apologized to him his mind was straight and set. Not anymore and he doesn't know why.

"HYOMA!!" Your loud voice alerted the boy on the field.

━ 12:30 PM

They haven't started practice as yet and so before they did, you had a deed to do.

Hyoma, who was in the middle of braiding his hair, turned around to face you as your ran up to him.

"Last night I was bored and made some sweets and I made your favorite so this is your share!" You told him.

"Homemade food from a lady?" Otoya perked into the conversation.

"Yeah what about it?"

"Your fruit sando was tasty." A voice from behind said.

You turned around and saw that it was Gagamaru. He's one of your new friends on the team, he helped you save a stray cat!

"Thanks Maru, but I only planned on giving this to Hyo." You confessed.

The males around you let out a series of groans, which didn't affect Hyoma!

"Thank you Y/N." He said with a smile, which caused you to return it.

"Are you sharing that?" Otoya asked your friend.

"No."

You laughed a bit.

"How about tomorrow I bring more?" You suggested.

"You're offering your Karinto Manjuu to them?" Hyoma complained.

It caused a small smile to form naturally on your face.

"Okay I won't, but I will bring something else tomorrow then."

"Okay!"

With that, you left them to do their kicking of balls and thought it was best to visit the library to find any books related to baking or sweets, your favorite hobby.

Without your knowledge, familiar piercing eyes followed your movement as you made your way toward the building, remembering this morning's event.

His ears listened to his teammates' praises for your sweets, and now it's piqued his interest a bit.

You made it to the library and began your search for some bakery-related books.

You scanned every row, touching every spine of the books as your finger passed by it. You stopped in your tracks as your ears picked up on some students conversing.

"..L/N."

Huh? You?

You stood still as a statue, not making a sound. to hear what they were talking about.

"You know her? Same! I heard she might visit Japan soon."

"Same!"

The voices died down as they walked away, completely ignoring their surrounds and carrying on with their day.

But you stood there confused, until it hit you.

"No way.." You mumbled.

They won't ever come back. You sighed, pushing the thoughts away, and went back to your original plan here, look for sweets.

..Fruit Tart, Sherbert, Canulé, Éclair, Madeleine..

Those are the ones you're mostly familiar with because she always made them for you. With a smile on her face, she would always help you make desserts. But he always used to complain about too many sweets..

What's wrong with munching on the happiness here on hand? Just the thought of munching on those yummy sweets brings a smile to your face.

The same smile that formed when your eyes landed on a book filled with desserts.

"Found one!"

You grabbed the thick book and made your way to a table, off to Candy Land to find one sweet treat.

Your eyes scanned the pages, turning them one by one as time passed by until you found one.

Why not cheesecake? A strawberry one.

Feeling content with your new plan, you put the book back in its original place and left the library.

━ 10:01 PM

".. Can't believe I'm saying this but go to bed."

You looked up from your phone and saw Reo.

"I will."

"Okay.." He muttered.

You planned on making this cheesecake earlier as soon as you came home from school but you had your afternoon nap until 9 PM. Who's fault is that?

So now you're making the cake!

You stared at the recipe in your hand. You went digging in your recipe cards and found the one you had for cheesecake.

All the items that are needed is right in front of you, all you need to do is to start the process.

You got the biscuits of whatever choice and placed it in a zip-lock bag then got your rolling pin and took your anger out on it!

Too into it, you failed to notice the sleepy Reo sneaking up behind you.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING AT 10 PM!?" He asked you, with a bit of attitude.

"Well as you can see, I'm making cheesecake!" You answered him, pointing at your station.

"Why at 10PM you decided to do this?"

"It's for your team."

He sighed then walked away, back into his room.

And so you too went back beating it!

The rest was easy, you decided to make two cakes and now it's chilling in the fridge, finally you can get some sleep!

━ 6:09 AM

"Y/N?"

You turned your head in the direction of your name and saw the one and only Otoya!

Your face lit up as soon as you saw one of the people you were looking for.

He noticed your other bag and began to approach you.

"Do you need help with that?" He asked, already motioning to grab it but you were quicker and shoved your hand inside.

There, you grabbed the cheesecake that you neatly placed in small boxes, where did you get the boxes? From a store duh!

Anyways, you pulled it out and both Otoya and yourself were greeted with a box in your hand!

"What's that?" He asked you.

You gave him it and then signal to him to open it.

His face lit up a bit when his eyes landed on the treat, that was gifted to him by you!

"For me!?" He exclaimed.

"I made for everyone, but yeah that one is for you." You stated.

Out of the blue, his hand found its way around your shoulder and a smirk was formed on his face.

"So.. how about we-"

"Y/N!" Nevermind, he was cut off by Meguru!

You took his hand off of you and ran towards your hyper friend. Sadly, Otoya was left alone but oh well!

Your hand entered your bag and pulled out the treat for your friend.

"For you." You confessed, with a bright smile.

Meguru accepted it, the same smile on his face, and turned around, looking for someone.

It was Yoichi!

His smile grew a bit larger when his eyes landed on his friends.

As usual, you dug for the treat and placed it in his hand.

"What's this?" He asked, eyeing the box with interest.

"Cheesecake."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, what he said!" Meguru added.

Yoichi looked around, visibly ignoring Otoya as he noticed that he already had a box in his hand.

"Are you giving it out to everyone on the team?" He asked you.

You nodded at his words, scanning the area for anyone else. Of course, there's one place where you're guaranteed a teammate there but you decided to go there last.

"Then let's help you, c'mon!" Meguru suggested, grabbing your bag and running off.

"WAIT."

Their help was needed as a lot got done, and you even made friends with Hiori!

You draw sparkles on Aryu's box before handing it over to him, for no reason of course.

As normal, Barou had his attitude but he accepted your gift, next time you might give him a sponge so he can appreciate your kindness.

You found Gagamaru in a tree but he got his portion as well!

You forgot that your roommates are also on the team, so you personally visited them.

Upon entering their class, Hyoma was in there, which made things easier.

Seishiro was first to notice you because the door interrupted his train of focus towards his game.

"Hi." He simply said, greeted you.

You gave him a small smile and placed the box on his desk.

"Is that the cheesecake you were packing this morning?" He asked.

"Yes it is, that's yours." You pointed out. He nodded and then returned to his game.

Reo and Hyoma on the other hand approached you.

"You actually made it for them?" Hyoma muttered, taking his share.

"You were up at 10 PM making cheesecake for them?" Reo also muttered, but this one has an annoyed tone to it.

"Yep!" You exclaimed, with a smile and gave him his piece, then made your escape.

You had three more pieces, so you made your way to Anri's office to give her two, one for herself and for Ego.

You knocked on her door, which she gave you access to enter and you were greeted with her pleasant smile.

You placed the boxes on her desk, which confused her but you explained everything to her.

So of course she thanked you, with a hug and after a small conversation, you said goodbyes and left the office.

Now finally, the one person you avoided.

Nervously, you made your way to the field. Before you did things for him like fill his water bottle with ease so why are you nervous?

Is it because last time he squashed your treat? Ha totally not..!

Well.. This time you both have a somewhat acquaintance, so he will accept it anyways right!

Whatever, with all that nervous thinking, you mindlessly made it to the field anyways.

He was there, practicing his heart away, only focusing on getting better and not you nor your treat, so you should walk away!

Nevermind, he turned around. He stopped in his tracks, eyes lingering on your body for a bit, which caused some heat on your cheeks. You sighed and made your way towards him.

His eyes landed on the box in your hand, then back to your face.

"I don't know if you remembered from yesterday.. but I made this for everyone so.." With each word you muttered, it got softer and softer until he couldn't hear you anymore, but he got the idea.

You stared at the grass on the floor, holding the box with sweaty palms.

He waited a bit for you to gave him the box, but with your eyes on the floor and not on him, you failed to notice that.

So he took it upon himself to get the box from you, gently prying it out of your hand, which caused your fingers to touch a bit. It took you out of your staring contest with the grass and focused on the box in his hand.

"Thanks.." He muttered and made his way over towards his bag and placed it inside.

No squashed treat this time, which caused a warm feeling to appear in your chest.

You slightly waved goodbye, and ran away, with a smile on your face.

When you finally left, leaving him alone, he stared at the cake for a bit and he wondered how your cooking tasted. He remembered everyone praising it but because of circumstances, he couldn't taste it.

He sighed, returning to his practice. He will enjoy the flavor later in the day.

## LIFE'S HARD WHEN YOU'RE INLOVE. --

╴“ WITH RIN ITOSHI?? „

ฅ^._.^ฅ : some things about y/n !! she mostly sleeps through the day, only does stuff IF needed !! with her given gift of being effortlessly smart , all she does in her free time is : nap , eat , sleep. hmm what if.. one day y/n develops a crush and now has to ACTUALLY work to achieve a goal ? : date rin itoshi !!

14 // 16

note: idk if you've noticed so far but the fic gonna have y/n lore soon with her parents hehehehhe..

TAGLIST: @deezy12299 @kuroronana @khoiyyu @swagkittybear @shidousprincess @starbarfbunni @jealovsie @imtiredmf @hainge (OPEN)

! if you didn't get tag, that means your acc didn't show up :(

-`♥︎´- for this story, i'm trying a something new, which includes words/phrases, foods and hometowns from japan and germany. if there's any errors please point it out !

-`♥︎´- word count :2.8K

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

the swan and her princess (part 1)

summary: Swan Lake isn’t all beauty and grace, contrary to popular belief. And you experience firsthand that as you wage a one-sided war with your “rival” for the role of the Swan Princess, Odette.

pairing: Gwen Stacy (Spider-Woman) x fem!Ballerina!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: uses of Y/N, lots of ballet terms and references, the teacher displaying blatant favouritism ig?, mildly petty reader 💀

a/n: I finally got around to doing it! yay :D academic rivals to lovers ftw honestly

gearing up for my first official chapter-based fanfic WHOOOOOOOOO

dividers by me btw! it’s my first time doing dividers so any feedback would be appreciated <3

part 1 // part 2 (pending)

glossary:

Swan Lake: Swan Lake, Op. 20, is a ballet composed by Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in 1875–76. It is now one of the most popular ballets of all time. The ballet is based on a German fairy tale, and tells the story of a prince named Siegfried who falls in love with Odette, a princess who has been turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer

Odette: Odette is the main female protagonist in the ballet "Swan Lake," which is composed by Pyotr Tchaikovsky. She is the White Swan, also known as the Swan Princess/Swan Queen.

Anna Pavlova: Anna Pavlovna Pavlova was a Russian prima ballerina of the late 19th and the early 20th centuries. She was a principal artist of the Imperial Russian Ballet and the Ballets Russes of Sergei Diaghilev. (basically, every ballerina’s idol)

first position: In the first position, the heels are together, with toes turned out until the feet are in a large, open V or a straight line.

relevé: Relevé is a French term meaning "raised up." It is one of the basic ballet moves. The dancer starts in a demi-plié (a move where the dancer bends their knees halfway while keeping their feet on the ground) and then rises up into demi-pointe (on the balls of the feet) or en pointe (on the toes), either on one foot or both feet.

“Let’s take it from the top, Y/N. More turned out this time. And your ‘wings’ aren’t flowy enough. You are the very Swan Princess, not a struggling cygnet. You die gracefully.”

You blew air threw your nose a little more forcefully than you usually would, trying your best to follow your ballet teacher’s instructions.

“Ah, Gwendolyn! So nice of you to join us.”

That statement was usually used sarcastically in most settings. So why did your teacher’s voice take on a note of adoration? You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, not even looking at the new arrival. All she ever did was drop into class half an hour late - without even doing her hair in a proper bun - and get showered with praises for everything she did. Always Gwen this, Gwen that. You were so sick of it.

“Gwen, if you decide to try out, you would be a perfect fit for the White Swan,” Your teacher eagerly told her, and your ‘flowy feathers’ tightened into fists. Just brilliant. In her eyes, you had no chance at Odette, did you? Once again, Gwendolyn Stacy would swoop in and snatch up something you had worked so hard for, spending hours upon hours on late nights at the studio practising alone, all because the teacher thought she was the next Anna Pavlova. But every time, you bit your tongue and kept your head down. One day, you would show them. You would show them all how good you were. And little Gwendolyn Stacy, the number one teacher’s pet, would watch and weep.

You cleared your throat to jolt your teacher out of her rambling. “Miss? My audition?”

She blinked as if she were just noticing you. “Ah, right. Yes, you may continue.”

You were ready to hurl your pointe shoes at both of their annoying faces, but you focused on making yourself extra turned out and extra graceful. Oh, how the tables would turn when you got this role.

You risked a glance out of the corner of your eye and noticed with a smug satisfaction that Gwen was staring at you, eyes wide. Completely enthralled.

Ha-ha, Gwendolyn Stacy. Look upon actual, hard-earned talent and despair.

You finished the Dying Swan - the Swan Lake piece you were doing for your audition - and bowed, standing in first position with your head held high.

“Thank you, Y/N. That was very nice. Everyone, let’s get started. Get your shoes on and get into your positions at the barre, please.”

Ugh, the barre positions. Your arch-nemesis, apart from a certain Gwen Stacy. Well, maybe not apart from her, since your barre position was right in front of her.

“One, two, three, four - hold, two, three four…”

You tuned out the voice of your ballet teacher; the exercise was purely muscle memory to you by now, and her voice was only distracting you at the moment.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You were pulled out of your intense focus by the voice behind you. Once you realised who it was, you had to resist the urge to scoff. “What is it?”

“I, uh… I just wanted to say that you did amazing. It was very graceful. You’ll make a good White Swan.” That almost made you lose your balance in a relevé and twist your ankle, because what?

Gwen Stacy thought that you’d get the role?

Oh. That was new.

Or maybe it wasn’t, and you were just imagining the whole ‘undeserving slacker’ thing and painting her as the bad guy…?

You almost giggled at that. Nah. This was definitely some ploy to get you to relax a little, to stop practising almost obsessively. Yeah, she was just trying to ensure you weren’t a threat. The moment you let down your guard, she would snatch up the role of Odette. You just knew it. Well, she could try all she wanted; you would not make it easy for her.

“Oh, I know,” You replied coolly, ending the exercise with everyone else and turning to offer her a politely bored smile. “But thank you.”

Gwen’s smile dropped a little and her eyebrows scrunched together slightly, her piercings glinting in the studio’s warm light. “Okay, well… I’ll see you around, I guess.”

She reached down and grabbed her duffel bag, unceremoniously dropping her teal pointe shoes into the mess of clothes and who knows what else she kept in it.

You kept your eyes on her until she disappeared out the studio’s door after a quick goodbye to the teacher. She was like a ghost, always appearing and flickering out just as quickly as one. And somehow always getting away with it, every single time. Not to mention… she was also somehow really good. Despite missing classes and coming late.

“Remember, class. Now that I’ve seen all your auditions, the roles will be up next week. Don’t be late,” your teacher called as you all left the building.

You kissed your teeth in annoyance. Yeah, don’t be late. Unless you’re Gwen Stacy.

Good grief, that girl would be the death of you.

Taglist: (reply to be added!)

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

[bcyhoods]

LOVEFOOL 💌 ─── send in a character and a prompt from these lists for a blurb

ohemgee what about eddie brock + ❛ how about a kiss before i go? ❜ I feel like that’s so him. giggles

same universe as this au because i’m obsessed, i fear. also rivals with benefits…and i don’t know if that’s okay but we ball! | 0.8k

warnings: suggestive themes, implied smut (nothing explicit but 18+ pls)

You aren’t so much angry as you are annoyed.

Because normal mornings in your apartment were relatively tranquil. You would usually wake up early enough to not feel rushed for work, sometimes you’d even get some writing done beforehand. The mornings were quiet and smelled of freshly brewed coffee while the rising sun kissed your skin.

This was not a normal morning. The shrill sound of a shattered vase was quick to remind you of such. And so was the half-naked man that produced the sound.

Eddie, with his jeans halfway up his legs, grimaces down at the broken porcelain and holds onto one of the walls in your bedroom for stability. “Oh shit. Was that expensive? Hope not.” He huffs and tugs his jeans the rest of the way up.

You roll your eyes at him from your bathroom doorway, also half-naked and with your toothbrush hanging from your mouth.

Your annoyance isn’t really about the vase nor about how you’re late for work, though you don’t doubt you’ll find time to be upset about that later. It’s more about the fact that he’s even in your apartment in the first place. Cunning as you are, you’d invited Eddie over in the guise of a truce of some sorts. You’re an amazing journalist blah blah blah I need your help on this article blah blah blah. You just needed him to give up some sources for an article that you’d both been writing.

And while it was a hit to your ego to compliment him even if you were only feigning sincerity, it was worth it if you got to publish the piece before he did.

It was going accordingly at first. Sure, you had to share some notes of your own to get him to trust you, but you kept the more relevant information close to your chest. You guys had actually been getting along.

Then the drinks came, and you guys were really getting along. He started throwing compliments at you, his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips as you sat next to him on your couch, his large hand settled on your knee. He had such a soft smile. You pulled him in for what you thought would be one kiss.

Then he ended up in your bed. Which was not a bad time. At all. The memory makes something flutter in the depths of your stomach. You were annoyed about that, too.

You swipe his button down shirt from off the floor and fling it towards his broad chest. “Would you hurry up? Jesus…” you mutter, the toothpaste impeding your speech before you spit into the sink and run back to your room to get dressed.

Eddie watches with a sly grin as you hike up your own pair of pants, shamelessly letting his gaze wander over your frame. He lets himself remember the way your body felt underneath him and how your lips felt on his neck and how your nails dug into his shoulders and

“What?”

You stare at him, dumbfounded as you finish buttoning your top.

He clears his throat and gestures to you. “Nothin’. You look good.”

“With or without the clothes?” You tease.

“They’re mutually exclusive?”

You’re trying really hard to bite back the smile that threatens to expose your smugness. You finally walk out into your living room with Eddie hot on your heels as he fixes his sleeves. Both standing by the front door, you take in the appearance of the other. His hair is disheveled, his shirt is wrinkled, and there’s a love bite peeking just below his collar. You’re sure you look the same.

“So…uh, that was a very informative business meeting,” he jests as he works to buckle the belt around his hips. You hate the way it makes you pause to watch his fingers. You have to remind yourself that you find him annoying.

“I agree. Very educational.” You stick your tongue into your cheek and rip your eyes away from his hands to his face which is a mistake. He’s smiling down at you and it makes you roll your eyes. You open the door and start to push him out. “Okay. Bye, now.”

Before you can close the door, he presses his hand against it.

“How about a kiss before I go?” His tongue darts out to wet his lips once his gaze drops to your own. His grip tightens on the doorway as he itches to touch you. Your face, your hips, anywhere.

A smirk graces your features as you lean up until your faces are centimeters apart. You see him close his eyes and part his lips, his breath fans across your face.

“I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”

[mastermindmiko]

Heart shaped eyes

pairing: Draco Malfoy + reader word count: 945 warnings: none, but let me know if you find any

a/n: Here's a little short story to get me going after the two month break. I hope you guys like it.

Hey! if you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

“As much as I want him to, he doesn’t, Pansy.” I huff and I sit down on the bed to wear my high heels. She rolls her eyes, like she does everytime we talk about this subject. She retorts, “Why else would he ask you for the ball then?” 

“Because he had no one else to ask.” I shoot back, and she jumps up from her bed and sits down on the floor in front of me grabbing my arms, steadily, ignoring the way she’s wrinkling her own dress. She says, “Honey, your grades are amazing, so I don’t understand how you don’t get this. He likes you, he asked you to the ball because he likes you.” 

“Then why would he say that we’re going as just friends?” I add a piece of information that I should’ve told her about a long time ago. Her face twists into confusion, and she says, “Did he actually say that?” 

I think back to exactly what happened and I stutter, “I-I mean, he kind of sort of did?” 

“So, he didn’t actually say that?” 

“Well, Draco’s never been very forward about his feelings, but I could tell.” I say, folding my arms, slipping my hands away from her’s. She rolls her eyes once more, and replies, “That is true, but he’s also never been that good at hiding them.” 

I look away from her, not wanting to indulge in the thought that my long time crush of four years would like me back. Pansy starts, “The reason why I stopped liking him-” 

I always hated when she brought up her feelings for him. It was a rocky part of our friendship, both of us hoping he’d like one of us back. She continues, “Is because I wasn’t blind enough to not notice the way he simply adores you.”

Pansy wouldn’t lie to me, I know that, even when she kissed him one night about a year ago, she’d told me straight away, because no boy was worth it. I held back because she liked him, but now that she doesn’t, why am I still holding back?

“I don’t know…I’d hate to do something that would ruin our friendship.” I say, lowering my head to the floor. She nods her head and says, “Alright, that’s a valid concern, but just please open your eyes, tonight, and see what everyone’s been seeing for so long.” 

“Okay, I promise that if I see his heart shaped eyes, I will kiss him myself.” I giggle at the absurdity of my words, and Pansy smiles, but shakes her head disapprovingly. 

She puts on her own shoes, and says, “We should get going, the ball’s about to start.” 

We head down the stairs and Blaise notices Pansy first. He grins and rushes up the last few steps to catch her arm in his grasp. He kisses her and they rush into the great hall, excitedly. I didn't even notice that Draco’s been looking at me till I couldn’t see my friends anymore. 

His eyes are unblinking, but not in a creepy way. I start to feel self conscious as I stand in front of him, and he’s yet to say or do anything. I wave my hand over his face, and say, “Umm, Draco? Is there something wrong with the dress or something?” 

He shakes his head as he snaps out of whatever trance he was in, and he starts rambling. Calm,cool and collected Draco Malfoy starts rambling. He says, “I- no, it’s great, you’re great- I mean uhh, it’s my favourite colour and you’re uh, you’re um…gorgeous, not that you're only gorgeous because of the dress, you’re always gorgeous, beautiful even most of the time, I mean all the time. Even when you’re half asleep during the early classes-”

I really wanted to ignore what was happening, stay on the safe side, to keep our friendship intact, but I really wanted this, I really really wanted him. I couldn’t deny it anymore, Merlin knows how Pansy knew that tonight was the night, but with Draco’s flushed cheeks, and as cringy as it sounds, heart shaped eyes, I couldn’t help myself anymore. 

I cup his face in my hands, and I peck his lips. It’s soft, light, nearly nothing, but it cuts off his rambling and short circuits my heart. He blinks, once, twice, three times, and I start to regret my decision. It’s my turn to ramble, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you wouldn’t umm- I should’ve thought of better ways to shut you up like tell you, or slap you or something-” 

He takes a step towards me, effectively silencing me, and pulls me in closer by my waste. He leans down, he hesitates, he looks into my eyes, and I hope that they’re telling him to do it, and he does. He kisses me deeply, the entire opposite of the first kiss. It was strong, and sure. 

He parts from my lips when we aren’t able to breathe anymore. He smiles at me, and I giggle as I see the remains of my lipstick on his lips. I smile, “You’ve got, um-” 

He reaches out to where I’m pointing in confusion, and I stop his hands by holding them, and reaching out my thumb to wipe his lips. Once again, he’s staring at me with so much emotion that I try not to fumble under the attention. I say, “Lipstick.” 

“You shouldn’t have worn any because I think I’m going to spend the entire night with red lips.” He smiles, and kisses me again. When he leads me to the great hall, I’m the one with heart shaped eyes.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hello!!! Reading the just-finished fics now (love them) Love the new ideas as well!!

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️🧜🏼‍♂️

🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️🏔️

Thank you, take care!!

Thank you so much!

42 for 🔼:

---

And again, Shannon is staring right at him. 

This time, they both just laugh. The kind of laugh that tells Eddie she’s just as uncertain as he is. 

“What’s actually happening?” Shannon whispers.

“I didn’t plan that far ahead,” Eddie admits. “I guess… I guess I just thought the three of us could use the time alone.” 

Shannon nods. “No, uh… No pressure?”

Eddie shakes his head emphatically. 

“None.”

“Wine now?” Buck calls from the kitchen. “It’s still kinda early, but…”

“Wine now,” Shannon agrees. 

Eddie is very glad to hear her say that. 

🔼 

So Buck has an easy read on the room. He’s always had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. 

Eddie and Shannon want to have sex. With each other. With him. They’re both sort of wound tight with the waiting for it. Though neither of them seems to be willing to get the ball rolling. Buck could do that easily. 

He’s not going to, though. 

Does he want to have sex? Obviously. He’s got a healthy appetite and two gorgeous people that mean everything to him ready and waiting. Will they end up having sex tonight? Probably. But Buck isn’t going to rush it. He’s not desperate. Not for sex. For something else? Yes. Intimacy. Connection. To take what he already has with Eddie, and what Eddie already has with Shannon, and what he and Shannon have been dancing around this whole time, and forging something substantial. With all three of them. That’s what he wants. 

---

42 for 🧜🏼‍♂️:

---

Buck’s heart sinks as the chopper flies over him. Towards the pier. Away from Hank. 

“FUCK!” Buck shouts, desperate and frustrated. “COME ON!”

Then, as if by some miracle, the chopper begins an arcing turn. 

“Oh my god,” Buck exhales. 

It heads right back towards them. 

They’ll see Hank. They’ll save him. He’ll be okay.

Only, Buck won’t be around to see it. Because as the chopper gets closer, he knows it’s time for Buck to leave. He can’t risk truly and purposely being seen. So, hoping to whoever is listening - whoever listened the night Bobby almost drowned - that Hank will be okay, Buck disappears under the water, and starts swimming back towards Santa Monica pier. 

🌻

They’ve already sent Russell away in an ambulance by the time Eddie and Bobby hear it patch through the radio. 

Male, 45. Construction worker. Spotted by helicopter nearly a mile away from the pier. Washed up on shore. Must have got caught in a riptide. 

Buck. 

He did it. He saved that guy. No reports on mermen or fish creatures of any kind so… So he got away with it, too. 

For now.

“How does he get back?” Eddie whispers to Bobby. 

Eddie’s not super happy with Bobby right now. He encouraged this. Allowed it. It’s great that the guy’s alive and all… But Eddie really thought Bobby would side with him. The logical side. Eddie thinks Bobby can tell Eddie isn’t happy with him, even though he hasn’t said anything. Bobby’s his captain and Eddie’s not Buck. He’s not going to argue on a call. 

“I don’t know. He may have to wait until things clear out around here,” Bobby says. 

Eddie doesn’t like that answer. 

---

42 for 🏔️:

---

And, from what Buck has described, she hasn’t been handling this whole pregnancy like someone who is particularly happy about it. Eddie gets that, too. Been there. Minus the actually being pregnant part. 

All this to say, social media becomes sort of important in late August. Just over a month before the baby is due. They’ve finally settled on a house, and are just waiting a few days for the title to hand over. Buck has still not gotten many updates on the baby’s progress. Or Jaylin’s plans for when he’s born. She keeps putting it off or coming up with excuses. Buck is patient, but worried. Eddie’s sort of on his last straw. She’s been open to Buck being part of the kid’s life, but won’t talk about details. How is he supposed to be a father to him if she won’t work with him?

They’re at Home Depot when Buck checks his phone. Buying paint. Eddie is comparing two shades of soft blue - for the baby’s room - when Buck inhales a sharp breath.

“Whoa.”

“What?” Eddie asks.  

Buck turns the phone screen to show him Instagram. It’s a story of what looks like preparation for a party. A party with blue streamers and other baby-related decor. 

“A baby shower?” Eddie presumes.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Uh, yeah… Should I have been invited to that?”

“I think they’re usually for women?” Eddie frowns, uncertain. “I wasn’t on the continent for the last relevant one to me.”

“Okay, right,” Buck nods. “Right, not to the party, maybe. That could be awkward.”

“Yep,” Eddie agrees. “Super awkward.”

“But, like, more generally,” Buck says. “Shouldn’t I meet her family?”

“Family,” Eddie repeats. “Yeah. That could be important.”