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goldfades · 2 months ago

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in her younger days, they called her delta dawn; prettiest woman you ever laid eyes on

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 8.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | (requested: Paige Bueckers x Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader reader since she might be going to the Wings) when paige is drafted to the dallas wings, she knows her life is about to change, but she doesn’t expect you. as a dallas cowboys cheerleader with your own set of rules and boundaries, the last thing you need is a distraction—especially not in the form of the star wnba player who seems to turn every gaze in the room. but as the season progresses and paths cross under the texan sun, paige's world of fast breaks and buzzer-beaters collides with yours, leaving neither of you the same.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fluff! paige teasing the hell out of reader, description of homophobia, the dcc being sweet(? whoa), one mention of man flirting w reader (EUGHHH), nothing else!

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | here's 8k of a tease!paige fic for yall... i hope yall forgive me for the last 3 soulcrushing fics 🫶🏼😘

You’ve always said you’d never date an athlete.

It’s a rule born of practicality, not bitterness. Athletes move fast—on the court, on the field, and in life. Your job as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader already demands a fine balance of composure and charm. The last thing you need is the whirlwind of someone else’s high-stakes career bleeding into your own meticulously crafted routine.

But tonight, standing under the hazy glow of the American Airlines Center lights, that rule wavers.

You’re here for one of those PR crossover events—a meet-and-greet between the Dallas Wings and the Cowboys organization, complete with forced smiles and photo ops. It’s the kind of gig you’ve done a hundred times, one where you’re used to being admired at arm’s length by players who rarely look past the sparkle of your uniform. You’re used to their lingering glances, their empty flirtations, and their assumption that you’ll fall in line with the rest of their carefully constructed narrative.

Paige Bueckers doesn’t look at you like that.

You notice her the moment she walks in, an air of effortless confidence preceding her like a tidal wave. She’s all sharp cheekbones and easy laughter, blending seamlessly into the room while somehow standing apart. Her presence feels unintentional, like she didn’t mean to be so magnetic but couldn’t help it anyway.

You try not to stare, but when her eyes catch yours—crystal-clear and curious—you know you’ve already lost.

"You're with the cheerleaders, right?" she asks, her voice low enough to feel like a secret, despite the bustling crowd around you. There’s no pretense in her tone, no undercurrent of ego or assumption. It’s disarming, the way she asks like she’s genuinely interested, not just making small talk.

"That’s right," you reply, lifting your chin with practiced ease. "And you’re with the Wings."

Her smile tilts, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the room. "Guess that makes us teammates now. Sort of."

You tell yourself it’s just a conversation. Just an introduction. But deep down, you already know—it’s the kind of beginning that doesn’t let you walk away unchanged.

The noise of the event fades into the background, dulled to a steady hum that makes it easier to focus on Paige’s voice—and the way she leans just slightly toward you, as if shielding the moment from the room around you.

“Teammates, huh?” you reply, arching a brow and forcing a practiced indifference into your voice. “I don’t know if standing in the same room counts as teamwork.”

She chuckles, low and warm. “Guess we’ll have to work on our chemistry, then.”

It’s a simple remark, delivered with the kind of ease that shouldn’t make your cheeks feel warm. But it does, and the sensation creeps up faster than you can stop it. You glance to the side, pretending to check on one of your teammates who’s caught in a conversation with a reporter, but the smirk on Paige’s face tells you she’s already noticed.

“You’re blushing,” she says, not bothering to hide her amusement.

“No, I’m not.” You shoot back quickly, the denial sharper than you intend. You straighten your posture, willing the heat in your face to cool. “It’s warm in here. Lights and all.”

“Sure,” Paige says, drawing the word out like she doesn’t believe you for a second. Her grin widens, and she takes a slow sip of her water, somehow managing to make even that look like a calculated move.

You cross your arms, trying to steady yourself. “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Flirt with strangers at PR events.”

Paige lets out a soft laugh, her head tilting slightly as she considers your words. “Only the ones who pretend not to notice.”

The nerve of her. You fight the urge to look directly at her, keeping your gaze focused on the crowd instead. “I’m not pretending anything.”

“Right. And you’re also not blushing.” She leans in just enough for her voice to lower, her next words meant only for you. “But you are.”

Your resolve cracks slightly, enough for a small, involuntary laugh to escape. You quickly recover, shaking your head as you fix her with a look that you hope reads unimpressed—but the way Paige’s smirk deepens makes you think you’re failing miserably.

“You seem awfully confident for someone who just got here,” you say, trying to steer the conversation back into safer waters.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders moving in an easy rhythm that matches the cadence of her voice. “I’m just observant. And, you know, good at reading plays.”

“Plays?”

“Yeah,” she says, her grin turning almost playful now. “Like how you keep crossing your arms when you talk to me. Defense mechanism.”

You uncross your arms immediately, regretting the move the second her smirk shifts into something closer to triumph.

“See?” she teases. “I was right.”

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, though the words come out more like a laugh.

“And yet,” Paige says, leaning back just enough to give you a moment’s reprieve, “you’re still talking to me.”

She’s not wrong, but you don’t let yourself linger on that thought. Instead, you square your shoulders, offering her a saccharine smile that feels like a small victory. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, though her tone suggests she doesn’t believe that either.

Before you can respond, one of your teammates waves you over, motioning for you to join the rest of the group as the event shifts into its next stage. You give Paige a tight nod, as if to signal that the conversation is over, and turn to walk away.

“Hey,” she calls after you, her voice cutting through the din like it’s meant just for you.

You glance back, already halfway across the room.

“See you around, teammate.”

It’s casual, almost lazy, the way she says it. But the spark in her eyes as she meets your gaze makes it feel anything but.

You don’t reply. Instead, you turn back toward your teammates, heart pounding against your ribs in a way that you’re certain Paige Bueckers has no right to cause.

The next day dawns like any other—a pale sliver of sunlight spilling through the blinds, the soft hum of your alarm shaking you from sleep. Your phone buzzes with a notification as you swipe to silence the alarm: a practice reminder from the squad captain, a half-hour earlier than usual.

You groan quietly, already feeling the weight of the day settle onto your shoulders. Between your nine-to-five at the PR firm and cheer practice, your days rarely allow room for indulgence, let alone distractions.

Except today, there’s a distraction.

She flits through your mind the way sunbeams catch on the windshield during your drive to work—brief but impossible to ignore. Paige’s teasing smile, the easy way she leaned toward you as if she had all the time in the world to figure you out. You shake your head as you merge onto the freeway, cranking up the music to drown out the thought.

You’re good at focus. You have to be.

By the time you clock in, you’ve managed to push Paige into the back of your mind, hidden behind the mountain of emails that demand your attention. Meetings stretch into the afternoon, punctuated by a working lunch where you barely taste your food. Coworkers buzz about the latest office gossip, but you’re laser-focused on the client presentation you’ve been perfecting for weeks.

The hours blur together, and when you glance at the clock, it’s already 4:45. Just enough time to dart home, change into your uniform, and make it to practice.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader practice facility is a world unto itself—bright, sterile, and unforgiving. The walls echo with sharp counts, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors, and the biting critique of your coaches.

“Sharper arms, everyone! This isn’t a yoga class!”

You’ve been here long enough to tune out the tone and focus on the instruction, but it doesn’t mean the sting doesn’t hit when it’s directed at you. “You’re late on the second count, [Y/N]! Fix it, or you’re doing it alone!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply automatically, forcing the strain out of your voice. You adjust your footing, throw yourself into the next routine, and pretend you don’t feel your muscles screaming in protest.

Cheerleading at this level is a game of precision and endurance. Perfection isn’t just the expectation—it’s the bare minimum. Your coach’s voice drills into your head like a metronome, keeping you in line as sweat drips down your back.

And yet, even as you push through the routine for the third, fourth, and fifth time, Paige creeps back into your thoughts.

Her smirk, her voice, the way her laugh felt like a secret just for you. You bite your lip, snapping yourself back to the present. Distractions like this could cost you—your spot, your reputation, everything you’ve worked for.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” the coach finally calls, her sharp tone softening just enough to feel like a reprieve. “Clean up the routine and be ready to run it full-out tomorrow. Dismissed.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and head toward the lockers, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“You’re quiet today,” your teammate Dana says as she falls into step beside you.

“I’m always quiet,” you reply, but she shakes her head.

“Not like this. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.” She smirks knowingly, bumping your shoulder with hers. “I saw you talking to Paige Bueckers last night.”

Your heart skips, but you keep your expression neutral. “It was nothing. Just small talk.”

“Oh, really?” Dana drawls, clearly not buying it. “She looked pretty interested for it to be just ‘small talk.’”

“She’s friendly. That’s all.” You tug open your locker, keeping your voice steady, but the blush creeping up your neck betrays you.

Dana’s grin widens. “Uh-huh. Friendly. Right.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “What do you want me to say? She was just being nice.”

“Sure. And you weren’t blushing at all.”

“I wasn’t,” you mutter, brushing past her, but Dana catches your arm, spinning you around just enough to read your face.

“You totally were,” she says, laughing. “I knew it. You’ve got a thing for her.”

“I don’t,” you insist, though the words feel flimsy even to you.

Dana studies you for a moment, her grin softening into something more thoughtful. “Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you should go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“Her. Paige. She seems cool, and you...” She pauses, shrugging. “You deserve to let someone in for once.”

You open your mouth to argue, to insist that you’re too busy, that it’s not practical, that Paige is just a passing thought. But the words don’t come. Instead, you nod absently, murmuring a quick, “See you tomorrow,” before heading out into the cool evening air.

As you drive home, Paige’s voice lingers in your mind, weaving through the cracks of your carefully constructed resolve. You don’t want to admit it—not to Dana, not to yourself—but something about her feels different.

And no matter how hard you try to focus on the road, the echo of her teasing smile keeps pulling you back.

Paige’s day started like most others: early alarms, cold showers, and an endless loop of drills designed to sharpen her skills to a razor’s edge. Practice with the team wasn’t just a routine—it was a second language, something she could move through on instinct alone.

But today, instinct wasn’t enough to keep her mind from wandering.

She tried to focus on the sound of sneakers squeaking on the court, the coach’s whistle cutting through the air, and the weight of the ball in her hands. Still, her thoughts kept drifting—back to the sharpness in your voice, the way your eyes flitted everywhere but her when she leaned in, and that faint blush you tried so hard to hide.

“Paige!”

The sharp call of her name jolted her out of her thoughts, and she turned just in time to see Aariyah toss her the ball. She caught it, but not without a stumble.

“Yo, where’s your head at today?” Aariyah asked, crossing her arms as Paige dribbled toward her.

“Nowhere,” Paige lied, attempting a casual shrug. She passed the ball back, forcing herself to stay in the present.

Her teammates weren’t convinced. Throughout the rest of practice, they kept stealing glances her way, whispering to each other when they thought she wasn’t looking. Paige pretended not to notice, but she could feel the weight of their curiosity as the session dragged on.

By the time practice ended, her nerves were frayed. She slung her bag over her shoulder and followed her team into the locker room, the sound of banter and laughter filling the space.

“So,” Aariyah started, leaning against a row of lockers. “What’s up? You’ve been weird all day.”

“Nothing,” Paige said, but Aariyah raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

“It’s not nothing,” Nyla chimed in, pulling her hoodie over her head. “You’ve been distracted since last night. What happened at that PR thing?”

Paige hesitated, debating whether to say anything at all. But the memory of your blush, your quick-witted deflections, and the way you seemed both intrigued and guarded all at once—it was enough to push her over the edge.

“Alright,” she admitted, leaning against the lockers. “There was this cheerleader there.”

“Ohhh, a cheerleader,” Nyla said, grinning. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“She’s… interesting,” Paige said, her voice casual but her mind racing. “What’s her deal?”

“She who?” Aariyah asked, curiosity piqued.

“I don’t know her name,” Paige admitted, running a hand through her hair. “She was there last night. Tall, sharp eyes, kind of guarded. You know her?”

Nyla’s expression shifted slightly, like she was putting pieces together. “You mean [Y/N]?”

“Yeah. That’s her.”

Aariyah let out a low whistle. “You’ve got your sights set on [Y/N]? Good luck with that.”

Paige frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s… complicated,” Nyla said, choosing her words carefully. “She’s been with the team for a while, but she’s always kind of kept to herself. No one’s ever seen her with anyone. Ever.”

“Like, dating?” Paige asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” Aariyah said. “As far as we know, she’s single. Always has been. And, uh… probably straight.”

Paige tilted her head, unconvinced. “You don’t know that.”

“Come on, Bueckers,” Nyla said, rolling her eyes. “Just because you’re into her doesn’t mean she’s into you. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Paige shrugged, though the flicker of doubt in her chest was quickly overruled by something stronger. “Maybe you’re wrong. My gay-dar’s never failed me.”

Aariyah snorted. “Your gay-dar is not a superpower, Paige.”

“Feels like it sometimes,” Paige said with a grin, though her mind was already wandering back to you—your sharp tongue, your quick wit, and the way you seemed to light up just a little when you thought no one was looking.

She couldn’t explain it, but something about you felt… different.

“Alright,” Aariyah said, shaking her head. “You do you. But don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

Paige just smiled, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she headed for the door. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys.”

As she stepped out into the cool afternoon air, she felt a spark of determination settle in her chest. You might’ve been guarded, but Paige wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

And something told her that getting to know you would be worth the effort.

The energy inside AT&T Stadium was electric, a sea of navy and silver filling the stands as the Dallas Cowboys prepared to kick off their first game of the season. The buzz of excitement was contagious, spreading through the crowd and spilling onto the field where you stood, stretching and loosening up with your team in preparation for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders' first performance of the year.

Your routine was set to "Thunderstruck"—an intense, crowd-pumping track that had been drilled into your muscles and memory over countless rehearsals. The choreography was sharp, demanding, and thrilling, and as the minutes ticked down to showtime, you could feel the adrenaline beginning to build.

Stretching your hamstrings, you focused on controlling your breath, locking in. This was your ritual—shut out the noise, shut out the crowd, shut out everything except the beat and the moves.

But then you saw her.

Paige Bueckers, dressed casually yet effortlessly stylish, strolling into the VIP section with a small entourage. Her golden hair caught the stadium lights just so, and her signature self-assured smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she scanned the crowd.

Your focus cracked, just a little, as her gaze passed over the field. You could’ve sworn she lingered on you for half a second longer than necessary, though it was probably your imagination.

“Oh, look who it is,” one of your teammates teased, nudging you playfully. “Miss Basketball’s here to watch you.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to refocus.

“Someone’s blushing,” another teammate chimed in with a grin.

“I’m not blushing,” you shot back, but the warmth spreading across your face betrayed you.

“Alright, ladies,” your coach barked, clapping her hands. “Let’s lock in. Showtime in five!”

You nodded, shaking off the distraction as you straightened up. This wasn’t your first time performing on such a massive stage, but tonight felt bigger somehow. Maybe it was the buzz of the first game or the fact that Paige Bueckers was now seated comfortably in the VIP section, her eyes occasionally flicking toward the field.

You couldn’t afford to think about that. Not now.

When it was time to step onto the field, the roar of the crowd hit you like a wave. The drumline started, the booming bass syncing with your heartbeat as you marched into position with your squad. Your eyes locked forward, face set with a determined smile.

As the opening riff of "Thunderstruck" blared through the speakers, the adrenaline hit you full force. Every move was sharp, every beat perfectly timed. The routine was fast and furious, filled with high kicks, sharp turns, and intricate formations designed to wow the crowd.

You didn’t just dance; you performed. You poured everything into every move, channeling weeks of hard work, sweat, and discipline into the routine.

For a moment, you forgot about Paige entirely. You forgot about the teasing, the crowd, and even the VIP section. It was just you and the music, your body moving instinctively with every beat, every accent.

And when the final pose hit—arms stretched high as the crowd erupted into cheers—you felt a rush of pride. You’d nailed it.

As you walked off the field, your teammates high-fived and cheered, hyping each other up. “You killed it out there,” one of them said, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile, glancing toward the VIP section despite yourself.

Paige was still there, leaning back in her seat, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. But unlike the rest, her gaze wasn’t on the team—it was on you.

The Cowboys had won, and with victory came celebration—a tradition as ingrained in the culture as the game itself. Even if it was meant to be a “lowkey” night, the so-called party still overflowed with boisterous laughter, the bass of music vibrating through the room, and the steady clink of glasses.

You stood in the corner of the dimly lit lounge, nursing a sparkling water. The oversized, lavish venue was packed with players, cheerleaders, and a smattering of VIPs. It was a mandatory-unspoken-rule sort of thing; showing face after a win was just part of the job. That didn’t mean you enjoyed it.

The football players were the worst of it. Sure, most of them were decent enough, but there were always a handful of rookies and cocky veterans who treated the cheerleaders like part of their post-game spoils. Your smile was polished and your patience saintly, but the constant attention grated on your nerves.

Tonight was no different. A rookie wide receiver with a too-white smile and a swagger far outpacing his résumé sidled up to you as if you’d been waiting your entire life for this moment.

“Hey,” he drawled, leaning in too close. The smell of his cologne—something aggressively woody—made your nose twitch. “You look incredible tonight.”

“Thank you,” you replied politely, sipping your drink and taking a half-step back.

He didn’t notice, or he chose not to. “So, what’s a girl like you doing standing all alone at a party like this?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “Just enjoying the night.”

He took that as an invitation to lean closer, his grin widening. “Well, maybe you need someone to enjoy it with. How about I—”

The hand on your arm made your skin crawl.

You turned, polite facade dropping as you said firmly, “Back off.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, his grin faltering but still holding onto a thread of misplaced confidence. “Don’t be like that. I’m just being friendly.”

“I said, back off,” you repeated, stepping out of his reach.

“Hey, no need to get all uptight—”

“Is there a problem here?”

The voice sliced through the noise, cool and edged with steel. You turned your head, and there she was. Paige Bueckers, hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jeans, exuding an aura of calm dominance that was impossible to ignore.

“Who the hell are you?” the rookie asked, puffing up slightly, his bravado clashing with her unbothered demeanor.

“Doesn’t matter,” Paige said, her eyes narrowing. “What matters is she told you to back off. Twice.”

The rookie opened his mouth to retort, but Paige cut him off, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I suggest you listen, or I’ll be happy to explain it louder.”

The rookie hesitated, looking between you and Paige before finally muttering something under his breath and slinking away into the crowd.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Paige smirked, her hands still in her pockets as she leaned casually against the bar beside you. “Yeah, I did. Looked like you were about to throw a drink in his face.”

You snorted, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Would’ve been satisfying.”

“Bet it would’ve,” Paige replied, her grin widening. “But then you’d have to deal with the PR fallout. Figured I’d save you the trouble.”

“Chivalrous,” you teased, trying to hide the fact that your cheeks were burning.

Paige tilted her head, her grin softening into something quieter, more genuine. “You alright?”

The question caught you off guard. You nodded, still holding her gaze. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

“Anytime.” She glanced at the drink in your hand, then back at you. “So, are you always the life of the party, or is tonight a special occasion?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Definitely a special occasion.”

Paige’s smile deepened, her gaze lingering just long enough to make your heart race. “Well, in that case, consider me honored to witness it.”

Paige stayed by your side after the rookie incident, the two of you easing into a conversation that felt refreshingly unforced. For the first time that evening, you didn’t feel the need to wear the polished, ever-smiling Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader mask. You didn’t have to calculate every word, every laugh, every polite sidestep.

It surprised you how quickly you relaxed around Paige. Her humor was sharp but warm, and the way she listened made you feel... seen. The kind of seen that wasn’t about the uniform or the role you played. She wasn’t looking at the cheerleader. She was looking at you.

“You seem different,” Paige said at one point, leaning on the bar beside you, her fingers tracing the edge of a napkin.

You quirked an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Different? Is that your way of saying I’m weird?”

She laughed, her head tipping back slightly. “Not what I meant. You’re... real. It’s nice.”

That comment stuck with you, warming you from the inside. You weren’t used to people looking past the glossy, larger-than-life image you were expected to maintain.

As the conversation flowed, you found yourself craving something sweet and light to cut through the night. You turned to the bartender. “Can I get a Shirley Temple, please?”

Paige’s eyes lit up. “No way. That’s my favorite.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“Swear on it.” She held up two fingers in a mock scout’s honor pose. “No judgment, but it’s kind of perfect. Sweet, nostalgic, doesn’t try too hard. Exactly my vibe.”

You smirked, shaking your head as the bartender slid the drink over. “Didn’t peg you for the Shirley Temple type.”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises,” she said, flashing a grin that made your stomach flip.

By the time the party began winding down, the room thinning out, you realized just how much you’d enjoyed yourself. You weren’t even sure when the usual edge of tension had melted away, replaced by a lightness that felt foreign yet welcome.

Paige cleared her throat, her hands slipping into her jean pockets. “Hey, um... before you go.”

You looked up at her, noticing a slight shift in her demeanor. She wasn’t the effortlessly confident star athlete now. There was something endearingly hesitant about the way she scratched the back of her neck.

“Can I, uh, get your number?” she asked, her voice dropping just a fraction, as if saying it too loud might scare you off.

You tilted your head, lips curving into a teasing smile. “You? Nervous?”

She chuckled, the faintest hint of pink coloring her cheeks. “Is it working?”

With a laugh, you pulled your phone out and handed it over. Paige entered her number quickly, double-checking it before passing it back. “Don’t leave me hanging, alright? Text me sometime.”

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your chest as her fingers brushed yours during the exchange.

As you turned to leave, you glanced back and caught Paige walking toward her teammates. She glanced over her shoulder at you, a cocky smirk spreading across her face as she mouthed, “Told you so.”

One of her teammates groaned and swatted at her shoulder, while another rolled their eyes, clearly unimpressed with Paige’s triumphant swagger.

You shook your head, grinning despite yourself. Somehow, you had a feeling this was going to get interesting.

A few weeks had passed since that night at the party, and in the time since, Paige had somehow woven her way into the fabric of your life in ways you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t anything dramatic, nothing earth-shattering. But you couldn’t deny it: she had become part of your routine.

Despite the whirlwind of your schedule—DCC practices, games, and the usual duties that came with being in the spotlight—the texts from Paige came often, little moments of respite during your otherwise hectic days. Sometimes it was a simple check-in: “How’s practice?” or “How’s the Shirley Temple holding up today?” Sometimes it was just something random, like a meme or a quote that had made her think of you. Every time you saw her name pop up, your heart did that little flip again, that same flutter that had been there since the first night you met.

The dates were simple and casual, which was just how you liked it. A quiet dinner, a walk in the park, the occasional movie, and for the first time in a long time, you could just be yourself. You weren’t the cheerleader. You were just you. No performance. No expectations.

You thought you had the balance down, figuring out how to make it work despite the craziness of both of your lives. Paige was patient, always understanding when you had to cancel last minute or cut the night short. She didn’t pressure you. And, for once, you didn’t feel like you had to live up to an image for anyone, especially her.

It surprised you how easy it was to be with her. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected her—but Paige was like a steady rhythm in the cacophony of your life. You found yourself looking forward to her texts, the way she’d always send a good luck message before your performances or a stupid meme to make you laugh on a rough day.

You didn’t mean to, but Paige was quickly becoming part of your routine.

But then came the photograph.

You hadn’t noticed the photographer—probably a fan at the café where you and Paige had been sitting, sipping iced coffee and laughing about some story she was telling. You only found out when the photo popped up on social media, your notifications blowing up with tags and mentions.

The picture was innocent enough: Paige leaning back in her chair, mid-laugh, while you rested your chin in your hand, looking at her like she was the funniest person alive. It was candid and warm, the kind of photo that screamed chemistry.

The next thing you knew, the photo of the two of you smiling, laughing, and holding hands was all over social media. The caption? "Paige Bueckers and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader: New Couple Alert!"

You didn’t think it was that big of a deal at first. After all, both of you were public figures in your own rights, and being seen together wasn’t exactly a crime. But as the hours passed, the post went viral. Comments flooded in. Some were supportive, some not so much. And as the days went on, you started seeing more articles and posts about the two of you, your names being linked in headlines everywhere.

It felt like a dream at first—something light, playful. But then reality sank in.

The next morning, as you walked into the DCC practice facility, you could feel the weight of it. You hadn’t even spoken to your coach yet, but you could tell. She was watching you as you walked in, her gaze sharp, calculating.

Coach Anderson didn’t waste any time. After practice, she called you into her office, her expression hardening as soon as the door clicked shut behind you.

“Close the door, please.”

You did as instructed, your heart beginning to race as you tried to brace for whatever was coming.

“Listen,” she started, her tone measured but firm, “you’re one of our best, and I don’t want this to come off as harsh. But... the photo. It’s everywhere. And it’s not great for the team’s image.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Not great?”

She leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “You know how this works. The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders represent a certain... ideal. We have an image to maintain, and this? People are already making assumptions. It’s distracting.”

The knot in your stomach tightened, anger starting to bubble beneath the surface. “What assumptions?” you asked, your voice steady but edged.

She hesitated. “You know what I mean. People are speculating. And it’s not... on-brand.”

You stared at her, disbelief mingling with frustration. This was exactly what you’d feared—the constant balancing act of being what everyone expected you to be. But as much as you hated confrontation, something inside you refused to back down this time.

“I’m not straight,” you said, the words clear and unwavering.

Your coach froze, clearly not expecting you to address it so directly.

“And I’m not going to pretend to be,” you added, leaning forward slightly. “I’ve given everything to this team. I’ve worked my ass off to be here, to be the best. My personal life doesn’t change that.”

She blinked, visibly stunned. You’d always been a “yes, ma’am” kind of girl—polite, compliant, eager to please. But now, your voice was steady and your gaze unyielding.

“This.” She sighed, gesturing vaguely, her lips curling into a tight line. “The public—our fans—they have an image of you. And this”—she motioned to the photos on her phone—“does not fit that image. You’re part of the Dallas Cowboys brand now, and I need you to understand that.”

You felt your stomach drop. You knew where this was going. This wasn’t just about the photos. It was about the implications.

“You’re a cheerleader, and you’re expected to maintain a certain image. You can’t just… throw that away because of a relationship,” Coach Anderson continued, her voice harder now, almost condescending. “This is about professionalism. Your image. Do you understand?”

You stared at her for a moment, feeling the familiar, suffocating weight of expectations pressing in on you. For a second, you almost nodded, almost let yourself fall back into that mold of obedience, that role you were supposed to play.

But then, you remembered something. You remembered what Paige had told you about being real, about not pretending. You remembered the feeling of being yourself in her presence.

And suddenly, you couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“No,” you said, the word sharper than you intended. Your heart was pounding now, but there was no going back. “I don’t think I do understand.”

Coach Anderson blinked, clearly taken aback by your tone. You took a step forward, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not going to pretend. Not for the team, not for anyone. If you think I’m going to sit here and fake being something I’m not for the sake of image, you’re wrong.”

Her eyes widened slightly, clearly shocked by your response. You were the quiet, obedient one. The one who never rocked the boat. The one who followed orders. To see you—to hear you—talk back like this was completely foreign to her.

“You’re talking about who I am,” you continued, your voice gaining strength. “And I’m not going to apologize for it. I’m not straight, Coach. I don’t owe you, or anyone else, an explanation for who I’m dating. If this”—you pointed at the photos again—“is a problem, then I guess I’ll have to deal with that.”

Coach Anderson stared at you, open-mouthed, for a moment, as if processing what you had just said. She blinked a few times, her face hardening into a tight, inscrutable mask. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, assessing, perhaps judging, but you didn’t flinch.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. You felt like you.

Finally, she spoke, her voice cold. “I never thought I’d hear those words from you. You’ve always been… so compliant.”

“Well, not anymore,” you said firmly, not backing down. “I’m not going to play by your rules if they’re going to make me pretend to be something I’m not. I’m sorry if that’s a problem, but that’s who I am.”

The silence that followed was heavy, your coach’s face unreadable as she regarded you. For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far, if you’d just tanked your entire career with a few sentences.

But then she sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just... keep it low-key, alright? We can’t afford unnecessary drama.”

You nodded once, standing. “I always do.”

And when you left her office, you felt lighter than you had in ages, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. The familiar tension that had always been there when you wore that uniform was gone.

You weren’t just a cheerleader anymore. You were you.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as you curled into the plush couch, a blanket thrown lazily over both your legs. Paige sat at the other end, her legs stretched out, socked feet occasionally brushing against yours. Some random movie was playing, one neither of you had really been paying attention to. The kind that served as background noise more than entertainment. It had been a long day, and this—just sitting together, the world quiet—was exactly what you needed.

You hadn't mentioned the conversation with your coach earlier. It wasn’t worth souring the moment, and besides, the heaviness from earlier had already lifted, replaced by the comfort of Paige’s presence. She had a way of making everything else feel smaller, less significant, like her calm confidence could shield you from anything outside these four walls.

She reached for the bowl of popcorn sitting between you, tossing a piece in the air and catching it expertly in her mouth. She smirked, satisfied, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her playful display.

“Show-off,” you teased, nudging her foot with yours.

“What can I say?” she replied, her grin wide and unabashed. “Natural talent.”

The movie’s dialogue droned on in the background, but Paige muted it with a flick of the remote, letting the quiet settle over you. She shifted slightly, resting her head against the arm of the couch, and looked over at you with a soft expression that made your chest feel warm.

“You know,” she began, her voice casual but carrying that undertone of something deeper, “when I was a kid, I used to think being good at basketball was enough. Like, if I could just be the best, everything else would fall into place.” She laughed softly, a self-deprecating sound. “Turns out, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I guess… I started realizing that it’s not just about being good. It’s about how people see the game. Women’s basketball doesn’t get the respect it deserves, you know? I want to change that. I want little girls to grow up seeing us on TV, in the spotlight, and thinking, I want to do that too. Not as some second-tier option, but as the dream.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your heart do that stupid fluttering thing again. There was something so earnest, so fiercely passionate in the way she spoke, like the sheer force of her determination could bend the world to her will. You could see it—the little girl Paige, dribbling a ball on some driveway somewhere, dreaming of being a trailblazer, not just a player.

“That’s…” you started, struggling to find the right words. “That’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “It’s just a dream.”

“Yeah, but you’re living it,” you insisted. “You’re out there, doing exactly what you said. You’re making it happen.”

She looked at you for a moment, her smile softening into something more vulnerable. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “That means a lot.”

The conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, and after a moment, Paige nudged you with her foot. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your dream,” she clarified. “What was it? Little you, running around in pigtails or whatever, what did she want to do?”

You laughed, leaning back into the couch cushions as you thought about it. “I always loved dancing. I think I was four when I begged my mom to put me in ballet classes. I was obsessed. And when I got older, it wasn’t just about the dancing anymore—it was about the performing, you know? The way it felt to be on stage, like for those few minutes, nothing else mattered.”

Paige listened intently, her gaze fixed on you in that way that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

“The DCC gave me a place to do that,” you continued, your voice softening. “I know it’s not perfect—God knows they’re not exactly progressive—but it’s still a dream. Getting to do what I love, to perform for a crowd… it’s everything I wanted.”

Paige smiled, a small, thoughtful curve of her lips. “You’re good at it,” she said simply.

You raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even seen me dance.”

“I’ve seen enough,” she countered, her tone teasing but warm. “And besides, you wouldn’t be where you are if you weren’t incredible.”

You felt your cheeks heat, and you ducked your head, pretending to adjust the blanket so she wouldn’t see. “You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin, leaning back against the couch. “But I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet between you filled with an unspoken understanding. It was rare, you realized, to have a moment like this—where everything felt easy, natural. Where you could just be.

As the credits rolled on the muted movie, Paige stretched, her arm brushing against yours, and you felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the blanket draped over you.

“You know,” she said, her voice light but with a playful edge, “I think little-you and little-me would’ve been friends. Or at least rivals.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. “Oh, definitely rivals. I would’ve wiped the floor with you in a dance-off.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Bold claim, cheerleader.”

“True claim,” you shot back, grinning.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, and as the night stretched on, you found yourself leaning into the comfort of her presence, the weight of the world falling away, if only for a little while.

Paige grinned, leaning back against the couch cushions with a kind of effortless charm that made your stomach do somersaults. “What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.” She winked, and it was ridiculous how easily she could fluster you with the smallest gestures.

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping before you could help it. “That’s what you’re going to lead with? Popcorn tricks?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” she shot back, her grin widening. “This could’ve been my party trick if basketball didn’t work out.”

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh yeah? And where does ‘world-class popcorn catcher’ rank next to WNBA superstar?”

She pretended to think, tapping her chin dramatically. “Probably right under future Hall of Famer and your biggest fan.”

That last bit caught you off guard. Paige said it so casually, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that could make your heart skip a beat. She didn’t even look at you after, just grabbed another handful of popcorn like she hadn’t just said something that would live rent-free in your mind for days.

You tried to play it cool, focusing on the screen and not the way your cheeks felt like they were on fire. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” she teased, nudging your leg lightly with her foot.

And damn it, she wasn’t wrong.

The sound of her phone vibrating against the coffee table pulled both of you out of the easy rhythm of banter. Paige reached for it, glancing at the screen. The shift in her expression was subtle, but you caught it—the way her brows furrowed just slightly, the ghost of a smirk softening into something more reserved.

“Press conference clips,” she muttered, tossing the phone back onto the table without opening the notification. “Guess they’re making a thing out of it.”

It didn’t take a genius to know what “it” was. The photo, the headlines, the endless speculation. You felt the weight of it again, creeping in at the edges of this quiet moment. But before you could say anything, Paige turned her attention back to you, her expression steady.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, her voice firm but warm. “People are going to talk. Let them. It’s not going to change anything.”

You studied her, the way she always seemed so sure of herself, so unshaken by the noise. It was one of the things you admired most about her—the way she carried herself with this quiet confidence, like she knew exactly who she was and didn’t owe anyone an explanation.

“Doesn’t bother you?” you asked softly, the words coming out before you could second-guess them.

She shrugged, her lips curving into that easy, self-assured smile that felt like a safety net. “Why would it? I get to date you. Let ‘em be jealous.”

And just like that, the tension dissolved, replaced by the warmth of her words and the steady, unflinching way she looked at you. Paige Bueckers, always cool under pressure, had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

The next couple of weeks pass surprisingly smoothly, at least on the surface. Coach Anderson hasn’t said a word about the photos since your last meeting, and it’s not hard to figure out why. You’re the top cheerleader, the face of the squad, and the one she relies on to land those impossible stunts and lead the team’s routines. Letting you go now would only create a whirlwind of drama she clearly wants to avoid.

But that doesn’t mean everything is perfect.

Your teammates—most of them, anyway—don’t go out of their way to make life easy for you. There’s no outright hostility; it’s all subtle, quiet, passive-aggressive. Like when you’re practicing the pyramid, and someone “accidentally” tightens their grip too much on your ankle, or when you call for a run-through and the response is a too-sweet “Of course, captain,” followed by exaggerated sighs and barely concealed eye-rolls.

It doesn’t happen all the time, but often enough that you can feel the weight of it. Even when no one’s saying anything, the whispers just outside of earshot, the exchanged glances, and the forced smiles remind you that the photos are still fresh in their minds.

You grit your teeth and keep going. Every time you land a clean tumble or nail the timing on a routine, you know you’re proving them wrong. Performance after performance, you remind everyone why you’re the one leading this team.

Then, one Friday night after a big game, the dam breaks—but not where you expect it.

The team’s win had been huge, a tight match that came down to the final seconds. The cheer squad had been flawless, their chants and stunts keeping the crowd alive and electric. As you gather with your squad on the sidelines, still buzzing from the game’s energy, the reporters swarm in.

The questions start innocent enough. Someone asks about the routine, another about the game’s atmosphere. You answer them like you always do—polished and professional.

But then a reporter steps forward. A man with a smirk that makes your skin crawl, and a voice dripping with fake politeness. "Great work tonight," he starts, holding his mic out to you. "But I have to ask—given all the controversy around those photos recently, do you really think you’re the right person to represent this team?"

The question catches you off guard, even though maybe it shouldn’t. You feel the weight of it settle like a rock in your chest, heavy and sharp. Around you, the other girls stiffen, and the camera lenses zoom in, waiting for your reaction.

You take a breath, keeping your expression calm even as irritation simmers just beneath the surface. "Well," you say, your voice steady, "those photos have nothing to do with my role here. What matters is the work we put into this team—on and off the field. And if you watched tonight’s game, I think the results speak for themselves."

Your response is measured, professional. But it’s not enough for him. "Still," he presses, his smirk widening, "don’t you think it sets a... questionable example for young girls watching?"

It’s such a loaded, condescending question that the irritation flares into anger. Before you can reply, though, one of your teammates steps forward. "Excuse me," she says sharply, her voice cutting through the tension. "What kind of example are you setting by asking that question? Maybe focus on our performance instead of gossip."

The reporter’s smirk falters, and another cheerleader speaks up, her arms crossed. "Yeah, seriously. We just worked our butts off out there, and this is what you want to talk about? Seems like a ‘you’ problem."

A few of the others chime in, their voices firm and united. For the first time in weeks, you don’t feel like you’re standing on shaky ground. The reporter stumbles over his words, trying to regain control, but someone from the PR team steps in and quickly ends the interview.

When the chaos dies down, and you’re gathering your things, one of your teammates catches your eye. "We’ve got your back," she says simply, offering you a small smile.

The others nod in agreement, and it’s all you can do to keep your voice steady when you reply. "Thanks. That means a lot."

It’s not a perfect resolution, but as you leave the field that night, you feel lighter. For the first time, it feels like you’re not fighting this battle alone.

The atmosphere shifts after the interview ends. The biting coldness that had lingered for weeks, the pointed whispers and passive-aggressive smiles, seems to melt away. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel like an outsider among your own team.

One by one, the girls gather around you. At first, it’s tentative—an awkward shuffle of sneakers on the turf as if they’re testing the waters. Then someone breaks the tension by stepping closer and wrapping their arms around you.

It’s unexpected, but the gesture cracks something open inside you. Before you can process it, another cheerleader joins in, and then another, until you’re at the center of a warm, chaotic huddle.

The hug isn’t perfect. Arms bump into shoulders, someone’s pom-poms tickle your cheek, and there’s a faint whiff of sweat and body spray mingling in the air. But none of that matters. What matters is the sincerity in the way they hold you, the murmured “We’ve got you” and “Don’t let them get to you” that make your throat tighten with unexpected emotion.

“Look,” one of them says with a grin as the group hug breaks apart, “we may not always be the easiest people to deal with, but you’re our captain. No reporter or stupid photos are gonna change that.”

Another girl chimes in, smirking. “And if they ask anything dumb again, we’ll handle it. You just focus on flipping in midair like it’s nothing.”

The laughter that ripples through the group is light, genuine, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like part of the team again. The weight of their support, of their acceptance, feels like armor you didn’t know you needed.

When the moment starts to fade and the team begins gathering their things, you feel a familiar hand slip into yours. Paige is there, her grip warm and steady, her smile soft in a way that’s meant just for you.

“Ready to go?” she asks, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, glancing around at the others. The team is still buzzing, joking and chatting as they trail toward the locker rooms, but a few of them shoot you quick, encouraging smiles.

As you and Paige step out of the arena, hand-in-hand, the crisp night air greets you. The world outside is buzzing, reporters still milling about, cameras flashing as fans cheer and chatter. You know they’re looking. You can feel the weight of their stares, the subtle tilt of a camera lens in your direction, the whispers that follow wherever you go.

But tonight, for once, you don’t care.

You hold Paige’s hand tighter, her fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels unshakable, grounding. You catch her eye, and there’s something fierce in her smile, a kind of defiance that mirrors your own.

“Let them look,” she says, her voice firm but laced with humor. “What are they gonna do? Take more photos?”

The words make you laugh, a sound that feels freer than it has in weeks. Together, you walk through the crowd, the world around you blurring into the background as you focus on each step forward.

People snap pictures, murmur among themselves, and even call out questions, but none of it matters. Not the flashes of cameras, not the speculative headlines that will follow. What matters is the solid warmth of Paige’s hand in yours and the knowledge that, for the first time in a long time, you’re not walking alone.

As the two of you disappear into the night, you feel lighter. Stronger. You’re still the same person who weathered the worst of the storm, but now, you have people at your side who will weather it with you. And that makes all the difference.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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2knightt · 2 months ago

Text

— YOU SHOWED ME LOVE .

—IN WHICH, the greasers realize they’re truly, and honestly, in love.

tags/warnings: gn!reader possible OOC, story-focused rather than comedic headcanons, fluff and nothing else(lie), comforting steve, swearing, soda’s part is rushed cuz i ran out of ideas.

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ wow shocker i leave for awhile and come back with a new theme. anyways, hi angels! i love you all sm and i forgot how much i loved being here🥹..! i missed u guys so much!

—

Johnny Cade

cars zoomed by the lot at concerning speeds, the sound of wind being broken up by the obnoxious cop sirens or a drunkard yelling down the street.

though, to you and johnny, all of that fell to deaf ears. it was like the world didn’t matter to you—as long as johnny sat beside you.

the stars seemed to only shine above you two, twinkling and gleaming in ways that you’d never seen before. the moon was your sunlight, with johnny giving you the warmth.

his head rested on top of yours that was against his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around your waist. your thigh was pressed against his, making him more than a little nervous.

sitting in the lot with you made him nervous, despite you and him dating for a long while now. you made him..giddy. that’s the word.

you made him feel like a child again; the child he never got to be.

johnny had his head tilted upward toward the stars and the sky, matching what you were doing so he didn’t look like a clueless idiot.

your hand left your lap, your eyes flickering downward for just a moment that went unnoticed to johnny. you gently grabbed his scarred hand, holding his hand in yours. you held him like he was glass.

johnny felt his face get hot. like, really hot. you were so gentle with him, the type of gentle that he had never been treated with.

he looked down at you, your head still on his shoulder. your hair was so shiny, you were so beautiful and such a perfect fit for him with the way your body mended with his in a time like this.

perfect.

his lips were quickly pressed against the crown of your head, pulling away before he got too nervous to talk.

“i love you, y’know.”

Dallas Winston

“you’ll be fine.”

“i feel like ‘m bleedin’ out.”

dallas complained as he sat on your couch, his legs spread so that you could properly stand between them. you continued to dab the wet cloth against his cheek to get the dried blood off.

there seemed to be just as much of dried blood as there was fresh, his arms and hands coverer in gauze and bandaids.

you gently held his chin to turn his head every which way you needed, because he allowed you to. he liked you so much, he allowed you to move him around like a doll.

though, he liked slyvia a lot, too and she couldn’t do stuff like that. stuff like this with slyvia was weird, even if he did like her.

so, why was it different with you? what made you, of all people, so special?

his eyes were locked onto yours, taking extra note to how focused you look on cleaning his face up. you were pretty. like, real pretty.

dallas was quick to avert his eyes when he realized just how sappy his internal monologue sounded.

“what?”

you asked, taking note to how hyper-aware dallas suddenly looked. his jaw was clenched slightly as he seemingly refused to look at you.

how you always knew when something was up with him, he may never know.

“nothin’. the cuts jus’ hurt,”

he lied right out of his teeth.

dallas’ eyes met yours once more, trying to act tough once again. he asked himself once more, what made you so different?

“are you sure?”

you dropped the wet cloth slightly, the rag no longer against his cheek. you looked worried, and you sounded just as nervous.

you cared.

you cared for dallas winston. that’s what made you different.

dallas knew you were different from his other flings.

he liked his other flings. he loved you. he loved that you cared for him, genuinely.

he extended his hands out, grabbing your waist to pull you closer with a firm tug, your knee supporting you up as it was pressed against the edge of the couch.

“oh, ‘m real sure, pretty.”

“dally, please.”

“please, what?”

“don’t start with me now, winston.”

Ponyboy Curtis

you were golden.

completely and utterly golden. the sunset reflected off your skin like you were an angel, your eyes shimmering like the stars above, the flush across your face making you look beyond innocent.

ponyboy was the one to drag you out into the cold oklahoma winter in the first place. he just wanted to watch the sunset with you, the person he liked.

he protested against your arguments of, ‘it’s so cold out, though! it’s so warm inside, pony. don’t make me go out there!’ with, ‘it’s just a sunset. it’ll be for a few minutes! i jus’ wanna watch it with you. please, y/n?’

‘watch the sunset,’ his ass. he looked at the setting sun maybe twice in the span of 3 minutes. you were too beautiful to not look at.

of course, and thankfully, you were oblivious to his staring.

“it’s really pretty,”

you muttered. your eyes were locked onto the horizon, and his were locked onto his future.

his future.

the more he thought about it, he really liked you. like, to the point where whenever he envisioned a mile stone in his life, you were always there.

when he imagined graduating, you’d be there. when he imagined going to college, you’d be there. when he imagined getting married, you’d be standing at the alter with him.

he loved his future.

he loved you.

“real pretty.”

ponyboy agreed, but for a different reason.

Sodapop Curtis

the moonlight seeped through the curtains of his room, illuminating the lines that it managed to sneak it’s way through. the midnight sky was bright, yet the moon seemed to be the only focus for the stars.

soda held you in his arms loosely, your head resting gently on his chest. he traced imaginary shapes on the lower part of your back.

the sound of his fan whirling rang out through his room, your breathing falling into a rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.

soda always seemed to notice when you were about to fall asleep, and you didn’t know how he did. you were starting to suspect he might be a wizard.

he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

his life was hectic. it really was. he was a dropout who works a full time job to help his older brother keep a roof over their head, and he worked as a middle man in arguments.

but you, you were a breath of fresh air.

he needed you like he needed water.

he needs you.

he loves needing something, and he loves needing you.

he loves you. soda loves you so, so, so much.

“good night, baby. i love you.”

Darry Curtis

“oh, y/n,”

darry sighed as he entered the kitchen. the smell of freshly cooked dinner wafted through the air, leaving a comforting taste in everyone’s mouth.

he walked up behind you, your back turned to him as your focus was on scrubbing the last bit of dishes. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself closer to you as if he needed to be as close as possible.

he rested his chin on your shoulder, his eyes looking down at your hands in the sink. you turned your head to look back at him, your faces a mere centimetres away.

you couldn’t necessarily help the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips at seeing darry look so grateful.

darry was a busy, hardworking man. that's who he was, and who he will always be as long as he lives. he provides with no one to provide for him.

until you came into the photo.

darry was cooking dinner out of fear that soda'd burn the roasted potatoes he said he'd make, and ponyboy was just..not that good with anything other than eggs.

he was cooking, cleaning, and working. he had no time to himself, it seemed. but you, the angel you are, takes it off his hands. maybe it was to just have him all to yourself after work, he didn’t care.

you were the angel that he prayed for day and night.

and god knows how darry loves angels.

you ruffed his hair, not bothering to dry off the water that stuck to your skin. darry chuckled, lightly shaking his head in a poor attempt to dry his loose curls.

in his own retaliation, he pulls you impossibly close, attacking your face with as many kisses he could. giggles filled the room as you attempted to push yourself away from him, only for his grip to tighten.

he pulled away at his expense, pressing one last kiss on the crown of your head.

“love you, doll. i really do,”

Steve Randle

“you’re always welcomed here, steve. you know that,”

you lightly scolded him as he sat on the edge of your bed. he’d been couch hopping before he came to you, a broken and embarrassed man.

you were rummaging around in your closest for another old blanket he could use, since from prior experience, you learned that steve has a tendency to hog the blanket you two shared.

“i know, i know.”

he begrudgingly grumbled, hurriedly avoiding eye contact with you with his head down, looking at his hands on his lap.

you looked over your shoulder, seeing just how embarrassed he looked asking for help tugged on your heart strings a little.

steve was never one to ask for help, no. he thought he was too prideful, too good, for help. he thought that he was superman with the way he thought he could help himself 24/7.

you sighed, taking a few steps toward him. you squatted down in front of him, lightly grabbing his hand and holding in it yours. he finally looked back at you with lowered brows, his eyes making him look way more innocent than he actually is.

“i hope you aren’t lying to me.”

“what?”

“do you actually know that i’m always here for you, or are you sayin’ that to shut me up?”

you questioned, allowing yourself to be straightforward since it seemed like that was the only language he knew.

steve shifted his eyes away from yours for a moment, a small huff leaving his lips.

“maybe.”

“steve,”

you started, the disappointment emanate in your tone. you stood up, letting go of his rough hand to cup his face. you forced him to look back at you.

“you know you aren’t ever a burden. i love having you around. i love you, okay? i wouldn’t ever push you away.”

you stated in the most soothing voice you could muster, looking him right in the eyes to really drive your point forward.

steve took awhile to react. he just looked back at you, letting your words process in his head. after a moment, he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you close.

he buried his face in the nape of your neck, his breaths coming out shaky as he tried to calm himself.

he loved home, he really did.

and, look, steve isn’t stupid. he’s heard and understood the saying that, ‘home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.’ but he always thought it was stupid.

how do you feel at home?

well, now he gets it.

with you in his arms, you comforting him and talking to him like he was a human, and he’s never felt more at home.

and holy shit, he loves this feeling.

“love you. love you so, so, so much.”

Two-Bit Mathews

laughter rang out through your empty living room, the television being completely drowned out.

you gasped for more air as you and two-bit laughed at an inside joke that seemed to only make sense to you two. you hand your hand on his shoulder, the other on your stomach. two-bit was leaning toward you unconsciously.

“holy hell, two-bit! that’s so messed up!”

you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t play into the jokes that slipped off his tongue.

“well, shit! then i guess we’re both messed up since you were jus’ talkin’ about-“

“hey, wait!”

you were quick to cut him off, leaning toward him to cover his mouth with your hand.

“don’t go snitchin’ on me!”

two-bit snickered to the best of his ability, grabbing your wrist lightly to pull you toward him closer. you stumbled toward him, two-bit catching you by putting his hands firmly on your hips.

looking back at you with a sloppy smile across your face, your eyes having a certain mischievous shine to them made it hard for two-bit to look away.

you were so beautiful when you were happy. you were always beautiful.

how someone like you was able to understand his type of humour is beyond him. he just knows that he’s lucky, and that he’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers.

he didn’t want to lose this moment, ever.

he loved moments like this.

though, he only ever experienced these moments with you. so, is it weird to say that he only loves moments that involve you? does that mean something?

does he love you?

yes, yes he does.

he’d let the whole world know that, too.

“god, i love you, pretty.”

#2knightt #i make myself giggle #I FUCKING HATE TUMBLR #I WROTE OUT SODA’S WHOLE PART AND IT DIDN’T SAVE #LIKE ONG #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #ponyboy x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #darry curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit x reader

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reidmania · 7 months ago

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Reid dating a girl from the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders and she invited the team to come see them! Fluff 👉🏻👈🏻

STAR STRUCK | spencer reid

summary; reader is a chearleader and invites her boyfriend and his team to come watch her

warnings; literally nothing??? fem reader, cheerleader, this is just pure fluff.. the only real warning is me having no idea what im talking about

an ; im australian so i know nothing about the dallas cowboy cheerleaders so theres no mentions of teams or anything bc ion wanna get information wrong!!

“Holy crap theres so many people here” Spencer muttered looking over at Derek who was working his way through the crowd of people trying to find their way through the stadium. Spencer was almost tempted to grab onto the boys arm in order to make sure he didn’t get lost.

“Come on. Our seats are that way” Rossi said, pointing his finger in the direction of a staircase. Spencer knew they were in a secluded area for friends and family of the cheerleaders.

“Perks of having a fancy girlfriend” Emily nudged Spencer’s shoulder softly as she walked past him. Spencer smiled softly as he thought of you — he had been wanting to come watch you cheer for the longest time, unfortunately with work and cases getting in the way he wasn’t able till until today, when you had invited him and the team to come.

When they got to the door, they showed their tickets to the security guard who just nodded and let them through. His eyes widened slightly as he looked over the large room, glass windows allowing the perfect view.

There were tables upon tables of finger foods, charcuterie board lined up with fruits and cold meats — crackers, everything and anything. There was also a bar, which immediately got Derek’s attention.

“Oh this is stunning” JJ admired as she looked over the room, bouncing beside Emily who shared the same look of admiration. Spencer spent little time looking at the room, instead looking out the window looking for any sight of you possible — despite knowing you wouldn’t be out yet.

“This place is amazing!” Rossi nodded as he brought over a beer from where he had been standing at the bar, Derek followed after him.

“Pretty boy, tell your girlfriend she can invite us anytime, this is amazing.” He gushed slightly as he sipped the large glass of beer, hand patting against Spencer’s shoulder.

Spencer just smiled, “I think she’d like that actually” He said, looking at Derek for a moment before returning his gaze to outside the glass, not wanting to accidentally miss you.

They found good seats, getting comfortable but Spencer was leant forward — he knew any minute you would be out there, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you.

Like he thought, the lights of the stadium dimmed a little before there were voices over the speakers introducing your cheer team. His eyes widened as people began cartwheeling and flipping their way out.

The minute his eyes fell on you, they stayed in place, never once leaving the way you flipped or smiled widely. He swore he could feel his heart palpitating when he made eye contact with you and you gave him that smile, the one that was reserved for him and only him.

“Oh shes good good” Emily muttered, poking Spencer’s arm teasingly. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his eyes away for a split second as she spoke.

He nodded, eyes trapped on you filled with nothing less than pure admiration and love — everyone could see it. There was a certain glint in his eyes.

“Shes amazing.” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“whipped” Derek muttered under his breath but passed off as a cough, only causing Spencer to raise his hand, flipping Derek off without even having to look at him.

“Spence!” He turned on his heels the minute he heard his favourite voice — yours. He and the team had walked down to the lower level on the floor after you sent him a message asking him to. He had spent the last few minutes looking around not quite sure where to go or where to find you.

Your face lit up entirely when he looked at you and it made his heart swarm, you were running towards him and there was merely seconds before his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, hoisting you up to spin you around.

“Hi!” You smiled, when he finally placed you back on the ground, hands staying on your waist. your face had a slight red tint and you were positive you were sweating, but to Spencer you looked stunning.

“Hi” He smiled back, the same look on his face as he raising one hand to brush hairs out of your eyes. “You were amazing, absolutely amazing.” He said, leaning down to place a quick gentle kiss on your lips before pulling away — he wasn’t one for pda, but he couldn’t help it when he was so insanely impressed by you.

“You enjoyed it?” You asked, your voice full of happiness and hope as you searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie on an exaggeration, but there was nothing but pure generosity and love in his eyes.

“We all did” Rossi said, before Spencer could reply. You pulled your eyes away from Spencer to look at the rest of the team, a wide smile on your face as you untangled yourself from Spencers arms to hug each of them.

“Thank you for coming” You said genuinely as you stepped back after hugging each of them and saying hi, the minute you stepped back, Spencer’s arms rewrapped around your waist from behind as he ducked down to rest his chin on your shoulders, you leant into his touch without a second thought.

“It was our pleasure. You all were amazing — you especially.” JJ said, smiling widely at you. You smiled back as your cheeks flushed at the compliment, “Thank you.”

“And it was fun watching Pretty boy here look all loved up” Derek mentioned, making your smile only grow impossibly wider.

“I’ve never seen him so quiet, I was expecting him to be spitting a hundred different cheerleading satistics every five minutes but he was just starstruck” Emily nodded as she spoke, smiling teasingly between you and Spencer.

You tilted your head to look up at Spencer who was already looking at you, cheeks flushed pink at all his friends teasing him on the spot. “Really?” You asked, a smile on your lips — it refused to leave.

He just hummed, smiling down at you as he placed a soft kiss against your forehead.

“You really were amazing”

#criminal minds #criminal minds show #criminal minds x reader #criminalmindsfans #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #wattpad #criminal minds one shot

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baeksqt · 12 days ago

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x dallas cowboys cheerleader!reader

(a/n: can you tell this is a british person who wrote this?? i’ve always had an odd obsession with those ladies so but anyways lena oberdorf, my shayla >_< I hope you enjoyed this one, i’m thinking of doing a two part for this, lemme know if you would like that and happy reading x)

word count: 1986

genre: fluff

summary: two different worlds, colliding in the most unexpected of places—yet somehow, it felt like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

As you adjusted your glittering blue uniform, the scorching Texas sun cast its unwavering gaze upon AT&T Stadium, making the atmosphere both electrifying and intense. The fabric of your outfit shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the light with every slight movement, and the heat enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stood tall and proud as the centrepiece of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, a position you had dreamt about since your earliest memories of watching those iconic routines on television, captivated by the energy and precision.

You were focused on tonight’s performance, where an international friendly match between the USWNT and Germany’s national team took place. It wasn’t every day a soccer match took over their football stadium, and you were eager to see how the crowd would react to the shift in energy.

Among the German players warming up was Lena, the star midfielder known for precision and aggression on the field. Lena was as disciplined as she was fearless—a footballer who’d grown up training in the rainy fields of Gevelsburg. She was fiercely proud of her roots, yet found herself intrigued by this massive, almost theatrical American sports culture.

The game unfolded with an intensity that crackled in the air, but amidst the thrumming excitement, Lena’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the vibrant splashes of colour and dynamic movement spiralling down the staircases among the throngs of spectators. The cheerleaders, clad in striking uniforms that shimmered in the arena lights, led a fervent cacophony of cheers and chants that resonated through the crowd, their infectious energy sweeping over everyone present. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced back home, a captivating display of spirit and camaraderie that left her spellbound.

The halftime break arrived with a pulse of excitement rippling through the massive crowd. The game was tense, and the U.S. and German teams were locked in a fierce battle, but for the next few minutes, all eyes would be on you and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

You took a deep breath, standing tall at the edge of the field, feeling the electric energy in the air. The opening chords of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blasted through the speakers, and the crowd erupted. This was the routine—fast, furious, and legendary. The kind of performance that could make even the toughest sceptics believe in the art of cheerleading.

From the sideline, Lena sat on the bench in the technical area, water bottle forgotten in her hand. She has seen plenty of halftime shows in her career, but nothing like this. The music thumped in her chest as you sprang to life, every movement precise and explosive. Your hair whipped around as you launched into high kicks, your blue rhinestone-studded stars sparkled under the stadium lights.

The choreography was relentless. Sharp motions that synced perfected with the pounding drumbeat, pom-poms slicing through the air with military precision. You moved with such confidence, such undeniable magnetism, that Lena found herself frozen, mesmerised.

“They’re incredible, aren’t they?” Sara murmured beside her, but Lena barely heard. Her eyes were fixed on you, whose smile radiated pure joy, body moving with an effortless grace that only came from years of dedication. As you dropped into the squad’s signature kickline, the entire stadium roared in approval. You stole a glance towards the sideline—just for a second, and caught Lena watching you intently, eyes wide with admiration. A rush of heat flooded your chest, and you pushed yourself even harder, feeding off the connection you felt from across the field.

Lena’s heart pounded, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the way your energy seemed to wrap around her like a lasso. She had always thought football was the ultimate rush, but this? This was something else entirely. She watched you flip, spin, and land with flawless precision, your spirit seemingly untouchable.

As the routine built to its climactic finish with the cheerleaders launching into a gravity-defying jump split, the stadium shook with applause. Lena found herself cheering along with the crowd, a rare uninhibited smile breaking across her face. As the final notes of the music faded and you struck your last pose, breathing heavily but wearing a wide, triumphant grin, you turned your gaze toward the sideline once more. The vibrant energy around you was palpable, and your eyes locked with Lena's across the field, a connection forged amid the exhilarating chaos of the performance.

The stadium lights still burned bright long after the game had ended in a tense draw, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air. You and your teammates lingered along the sidelines, feeling the residual adrenaline still coursing through your veins. But now, with the game over, you found yourself feeling oddly restless as you interacted with the young girls in the stands, helping them take photos with their fellow football idols.

Your eyes wandered across the field, where the German players were cooling down, stretching, and exchanging jerseys with their American counterparts. Among them was her, the striking brunette midfielder who had been impossible to ignore during the match. You had noticed Lena the moment she stepped onto the field, the fierce focus and effortless control of the ball captivating in a way that you hadn’t expected. And when she caught Lena watching the halftime performance, you felt something shift.

Lena, too, had felt it.

She was still replaying the halftime show in her head, the pounding rhythm of Thunderstruck echoing in her ears. German football culture was all about discipline and rigour, but what she witnessed was pure fire. And it fascinated her.

As Lena pulled off her sweat-drenched jersey and wiped her face with it, she spotted you standing by the tunnel, chatting with your teammates but glancing her way now and then. Summoning her courage, Lena handed her jersey off and made her way across the field.

Your stomach flipped when you realised Lena was heading your way, tall and athletic, her dark hair tousled from the game. You played it cool, offering a bright smile as Lena approached. “Nice performance,” Lena said in her slightly accented English, her lips curling into an easy, lopsided grin. “I didn't know football had…entertainment like that.”

You twirled a pom-pom absentmindedly as you laughed. “Well, soccer, not usually. But we like to put on a show here in Texas. Gotta give the fans something to cheer for, right?”

“But you were amazing out there. I’ve never seen someone control the game like you do.” You nudged her, pom-pom crinkling in hand.

Lena’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, kicking at the turf. “Thanks,” she said softly, “but I think you might have beat me in the whole crowd control department.”

“Guess we both have our talents.” You winked.

There was a moment of silence, not awkward but filled with the weight of something new and intriguing. You shifted in your boots, then glanced towards the tunnel, hearing your directors call your name as well as Lena’s teammates calling out for her.

As you glanced back at Lena, a sense of urgency reflected in her captivating gaze. “Well, Lena, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of warmth and urgency. “I hope you had a wonderful time in Dallas. Safe travels!” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you took one last look at her, committing her features to memory before you turned and jogged off toward your waiting coworkers, the lively chatter of the group drawing you back into the moment.

Before Lena could find the words to respond, you had already turned away, your footsteps quickening as you joined your teammates. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken feelings, and she let out a soft sigh, trying to suppress the flicker of disappointment that threatened to surface. Yet, deep down, she vowed to herself that this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You left your locker room cladded in your Cowboys sweats, boots clicking across the vinyl floor, on the hunt for the bathroom, using it as an excuse to get away from your prying teammates who questioned what happened between you and “that German girl.”

Turning a corner, you begin to hear the chatter of the German team, playful shrieks being thrown as you saw them file out of their locker room, you stood against the wall as the players walked past you, exchanging thank yous and goodbyes. Your eyes searched for Lena as she left the room, laughing with one of her teammates.

Her eyes lit up as she met yours, standing adjacent to you on the wall to allow her team to walk in front of the two of you. A couple of the ladies patted her shoulder with knowing glances as they walked past.

She appeared vibrant and youthful, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue that contrasted beautifully with her smooth complexion. Her hair was styled in a bun, showcasing the delicate contours of her face. “I knew you’d find me,” you teased with a smile, the words playful and light. As you both strolled side by side, each slow step felt deliberate, as if you were trying to savour every moment and stretch out the time spent together.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Lena said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes darting momentarily away as a palpable silence settled between them. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag, a subtle sign of her apprehension. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, as if weighing her next words carefully in the stillness.

“So, listen,” she said with an easy smile, “we’re having a little after-party tonight. Some of the team rented out a place downtown. You should come.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you halted your steps. For a moment, idea of letting loose, spending more time with Lena, and stepping outside the tight bubble of her DCC world was intoxicating. But then reality set in like a bucket of cold water.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders had strict rules about fraternisation with players, whether football or otherwise. No dating, no hanging out, no exceptions. Even though Lena wasn’t an NFL player, you knew it was a grey area that could get you in serious trouble. You had worked too hard to get here, sacrificed too much to risk it all for a night of fun—no matter how tempting Lena’s invitation was.

“I’d love to, really.” You bit your lip, as Lena’s eyes lit up. “But we have some…rules.” you said carefully, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Cheerleaders and players aren’t really supposed to hang out.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Even when it’s not your team?”

“Even then,” you sighed. “It’s a whole image thing. They want us to be, you know, untouchable or something.” You bounced your leg anxiously.

The tall brunette frowned, leaning in slightly. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. “We’re just people. It’s not like I’m asking you to break the law.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Try telling that to my directors. They’d have me benched for the rest of the season.”

Lena studied your face for a moment, then shrugged with a playful grin. “Okay. So, what if I promise to keep my distance? I mean, we could pretend I’m just a fan. I’ll even act starstruck if it helps.”

“You? Starstruck?” You couldn’t help but laugh “I’d love to see that.”

“Then come. Just for an hour.” Lena tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “I promise no one will even know we’re there together.”

You hesitated, torn between your cautious instincts and the undeniable pull towards Lena. Breaking the rules, even bending them, could cost you everything you had worked for. But then you looked at Lena, at the way she stood there, so open, so genuine—and something inside you whispered, take the chance.

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf imagine #lena oberdorf x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fluff #woso fanfics #baeksqt writes

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only-lonely-star · 2 months ago

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ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

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toasttt11 · 19 days ago

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godfather

May 17, 2021

Logan walked through the Johnston house leaving his bag in the guest room and heading to Wyatt’s room that he has been in many times but now Wyatt has a daughter.

The door was wide open and Logan peeked into the room and paused seeing Wyatt just holding his daughter Carson in a rocking chair and smiling down at her.

Logan softly knocked on the door making Wyatt look up he continued to smile seeing his best friend, “Hey Stanks.” Wyatt’s voice was soft.

Logan saw how much Wyatt just seemed to be glowing and he looked incredibly happy, Logan has never seen his best friend this happy.

“Hi.” Logan spoke quietly walking in and sitting on the side of the bed closest to the chair where Wyatt was sitting with Carson.

Logan’s breath got caught in his throat seeing Carson in person for the first time, he’s gotten many videos and photos the past few days from Wyatt already but she was even more beautiful in person. Carson looks so much like Wyatt already, “She’s so pretty.” Logan mumbled in awe making Wyatt’s smile widen even more.

“She’s perfect.” Wyatt agreed pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “Want to hold her?” Wyatt offered making Logan look nervous but slowly nod.

Wyatt stood up and sat on the bed next to Logan and gently set Carson into Logan’s arms and helped Logan fix his arms correctly, “See not to hard.” Wyatt complimented.

Logan just smiled at the sleeping baby in her arms.

“You’ll be a good godfather for her.” Wyatt nonchalantly told Logan with a mischievous smile as Logan’s head snapped to him.

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked.

“You’re her godfather, Quinn is her godmother.” Wyatt told Logan knowing his sister and his best friend is who he trusts if something ever happened to him.

“Are you sure?” Logan stuttered out looking shocked but touched.

“There’s no one else i would rather it be.” Wyatt just answered honestly.

“Thank you.” Logan’s voice trembled with emotion, “I’ll be the best godfather i promise.” Logan promised to Carson and Wyatt.

“I know.” Wyatt fondly agreed he trusts Logan and knows he will be a good godfather.

Logan continued holding his sleeping goddaughter until his arms were numb and he told Wyatt that making Wyatt laugh.

Wyatt helped Logan set Carson into her bassinet and Carson rested her little head on the teddy bear in her bassinet that was bigger than her.

Wyatt picked out the teddy bear for Carson when he went shopping with his mom and loved it and Carson seems to already love it.

Wyatt pressed a kiss to Carson’s forehead and made sure the blinds in the room were fully closed so Carson could sleep. He turned the baby monitor on and grabbed the other piece and gestured for Logan to follow him.

“Come on let’s hit some pucks.” Wyatt nudged Logan playfully after he shut the door quietly letting his daughter sleep peaceful.

Logan laughed and nudged him back.

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senditcolton · 2 years ago

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Hello my love! Congrats on 1k!! You are so deserving of all the love you’re getting, and I adore you to bits! 🥰💚

My I please have one of them there “Lead Me to the Garden” Chai Cookies?? With my boy Tyler and the prompt “myrtle”?? You know…because tis the season with him. 😉

listen: Tyler is fun and chaotic, his wedding reception seemed fun and chaotic, and i was in a fun and chaotic mood while writing so that's the vibe! (also Katy Perry's "Waking Up in Vegas was on repeat while writing for additional vibes) [also, also: i adore you more!!]

word count: 1.9k (went off again)

The groan you let out is involuntarily as the sharp ray of sunlight cuts through the window and onto your face. You attempt to roll over and turn away from the light but your movements are halted by a strong arm tightening around your waist. The weight of it against you causes your eyes to pop open before squinting shut again as the sun continues to pierce your line of sight.

It takes a moment for you to wiggle your way into a shadow so you can survey your surroundings, your head still pounding.

Your eyes scan the hotel room, clothes thrown on the floor and trash and other memorabilia strewn around the room. It takes a minute for you to remember that you were in Vegas, a much-needed vacation with a few of your closest friends. But while you remember your location, the memories of last night were still a blur of neon and alcohol.

There were plenty of questions in your head, all of which you needed answers to. But the most pressing one in the moment was finding out whose arm was slung over your frame.

Your eyes start at the tips of his fingers and travel up across the tattooed skin, the patterns seeming familiar but in your hungover haze, your mind was having trouble connecting the dots. That is until you see you see the 5-3-1 on the top of his shoulder and you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief as you spin and come face-to-face with your boyfriend Tyler.

You don’t bother being gentle as you throw Tyler’s arm off of you, with only a slight mumble from him in protest as he nestles deeper in the sheets, no doubt fighting the same hangover that you were. You heave your body into an upright position, a move which you swiftly regret as the room immediately starts spinning on its axis.

Your hands shoot up to your face as you take a few deep breaths to ground yourself, reverting to the exercises that your therapist taught you for when you were feeling unmoored.

5 things you could see: the skyline from the window, the feather boa thrown over the desk chair, your heels kicked off by the door, the bouquet of flowers on the table, and Tyler in bed next to you.

4 things you could hear: traffic from outside, the whir of the air-conditioning, voices from the hall passing in front of your door, and the vibrating of a phone somewhere in the room.

3 things you could smell: Tyler’s cologne, your own perfume, and the lingering scent of coconut rum.

2 things you could feel: the hotel sheets against your skin and the cool metal of a ring on your finger.

1 thing that was real right now: you felt like you got run over by a truck.

Another small groan comes from you as you move your limbs, your joints cracking as you stretch, shaking as much of the lingering ache from your body. You still weren’t 100% sure what happened last night but damn, it must have been one hell of a party if this was how you felt afterwards.

You sigh before turning to look down at Tyler, his curls messy and his face buried in the pillow. Part of you didn’t want to wake him up but another part of you wanted him to share in your misery. The latter wins out as your grab his shoulder and start shaking.

“Tyler,” you say, your voice coming out hoarse and you can’t stop the grimace that appears on your face. You quickly shake off your disgust and start to say his name until the glint of gold stops your motions. Your eyebrows furrow as you eye the band sitting on your left ring finger.

The design seems familiar; the shield, scroll, and wings in the center all tugging at the corner of your memory. You lift your hand off of Tyler’s warm skin to examine the jewelry further. As you bring the ring closer to your eyes, you manage to make out the inscription of St. Michael’s College surrounding the signet. When the combination of the image and words finally click, it doesn’t give you any answer, just more questions.

Like, why the fuck were you wearing Tyler’s class ring?

An image of a man dressed like Elvis and the phantom feeling of Tyler’s lips on yours invades your mind and your heart drops as your mind starts to piece together a possible explanation.

No. That couldn’t possibly be right. Take a deep breath and think.

But your brain had already made the logical conclusion so try as you might, you couldn’t even focus on any other possibilities. That’s why your shaking of Tyler turned from annoying to frantic.

“Tyler. Tyler. Tyler!!’ you repeat, your voice raising with ever iteration of his name.

“What. What?” Tyler grumbles, finally waking up and turning around in the bed to glance up at you through squinted eyes.

“I – I think we got married last night.”

“What?” Tyler says, your words causing him to sit up fully and take in the room.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Not… really. But what makes you think we got married?”

Your wordlessly reply by holding up your hand so he can see the ring sitting on your finger. You feel Tyler grab your hand to take a closer look before he drops your hand onto the plush sheets.

“Okay but that doesn’t mean that we actually got married,” Tyler says, his own voice ladened with disbelief. “There has to be another explanation.”

“What other explanation is there? Your ring on my finger, us in bed together, the bouquet of fake flowers on the table and the fucking veil thrown over the lampshade!” you list, your anxiety continuing to spike by the minute. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes and your hands once again move to cover your eyes. “Oh my god, we had a Vegas wedding and we can’t remember it. I feel like I’m in a bad comedy movie.”

“Hey, it’s okay just breathe,” Tyler interrupts, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s just try and figure this out, yeah?”

His voice pulls you back to reality as it always did and you open your eyes again, glancing in his direction. His soft smile pulls a similar grin onto your lips as you take another few deep breaths.

“Okay, I think the best thing for us to do would be to find a phone. Call our friends, see if they remember last night any better than us,” Tyler explains.

“I know I heard someone’s phone buzzing earlier. I think it’s on the desk.”

Tyler doesn’t hesitate to slide out of bed and wander over to the desk and after moving some clothes and beads and papers, he triumphantly hold up a cell phone and you sigh when you recognize your phone case. He wanders back over towards you, handing you the device.

You snatch it from his hand and press the lock button to light up the home screen. The second you do, you find dozens of text messages from your best friend.

Do you remember what happened last night? It’s a little bit of a blur to me. Oh fuck. Babe, wake up. Are you with Tyler right now? Answer me, I need to talk to you. I found these in my camera roll. [4 photos, 1 video] That’s you and Tyler, right? Please tell me I’m not hallucinating. Helloooooo???

Your heart continues to pound as you click on the attachments and scroll through. And there is no denying that the subject of every one is you and Tyler:

You and Tyler fully clothed in a pool. You and Tyler sitting on a pink convertible. You and Tyler posing under a floral arch, a bouquet in your hands and a veil on your head. You and Tyler posing with an Elvis impersonator at the end of an aisle. And when you click the video, you are no longer shocked to see a shaky video of you and Tyler kissing in some random chapel.

“Holy shit,” you hear Tyler say and when you glance over your shoulder, you see Tyler hovering right next to you, watching the video as well. “I can’t believe it. We’re actually married.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in. You don’t know what to say, what to think, what to do. But eventually, your involuntary reactions take over and you… start laughing.

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, laughing at the mess you got yourself into, laughing at the fact that you married your boyfriend of 2 years in the most cliché way possible.

Tyler stares at you in confusion for a moment before he is joining in. Your laughter mixes together and it isn’t long until you two are collapsed back in bed, looking over at each other.

“We’re married!” you exclaim, the lingering giggles painting the tone of your voice.

“Yeah…” Tyler sighs, staring up at the ceiling with you. “Why the fuck did I give you my class ring?”

“That’s what you’re asking right now?” you say in disbelief, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at Tyler. “I mean, my guess is you didn’t have another ring so you gave me the only one you had.”

“I mean, that would make sense. But I do have another ring.”

The words hang in the air as you try to decipher their meaning. Tyler lets you process for a moment but when no explanation comes to you, he is once again scooting off the bed. This time he walks over to the closet and open the door. You peer over his shoulder trying to see what he’s doing but you can’t see anything. You can only hear the rustling of him digging through his duffle bag.

Tyler lifts himself up and turns back towards you, his hands hidden behind his back.

“I was planning on this being a little more romantic but I guess I was too excited to marry you that I just cut out the middle man.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you listen to him, watching his slow approach as he sits down on the edge of the mattress.

“I’m really happy we’re married – even if neither of us can remember most of it,” he says with a laugh, one that you return. “But I do need my ring back. So…”

Tyler trails off, only to pull a small ring box into your line of sight and you gasp when he opens the lid to reveal a beautiful engagement ring nestled in the velvet.

“I would ask you to marry me but it feels a little awkward since we already are. Um, so, will you do me the honor of… staying married to me?”

You can’t help the laugher that falls from your lips as you take in everything that happened in what was most likely the weirdest morning of your entire existence. But the answer to Tyler’s awkward question would have been the same, even if he was asking it in front of the Bellagio fountains while you were wearing your best dress.

And for the first time this morning, you don’t overthink the situation as you practically leap into Tyler arms and kiss him fiercely. Tyler responds by pulling you close, his arms securing you as he deepens the kiss.

After a moment you pull away, smiling like a fool up at him.

“Yes, Tyler. I will marry you, stay married to you, whatever. I wouldn’t leave you for all the money in Las Vegas.”

“Bold statement,” he teases. “We still got three days here. Maybe we can hit the biggest jackpot ever tonight.”

“Well, if we do, let’s make sure we stay sober enough to remember it.”

#you also get a little bonus insta edit at the end there #1k cele bakery #nicole writes #tyler seguin fluff #tyler seguin blurb #dallas stars blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb

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pboogerswbb · 2 months ago

Text

MASTERLIST

all works are my own! all works are purely fiction! i do not post these on any other platform! read warnings carefully!

PAIGE BUECKERS

Too Lost In You

Paige's and Valerie’s relationship is nothing short of complicated, sleeping around with each other without any further commitments - Valerie afraid of getting her heart broken by the basketball star with a roster full of girls and Paige terrified of commitment with a national championship on the line. But for some strange reason the blonde girl can’t stay away, finding herself back at Ted’s, begging for the bartender's affections once more.

playlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

So It Goes

Born and raised London girl Izara had it all, a well paying PR job, a charming townhouse in Zone 2, her charismatic fiancé Jasper putting food on the table for her. With a wedding to plan and parents expecting grandchildren any moment, the always planning ahead, type A, sensible Zari does the first unsensible thing of her life - she leaves everything behind for a job as a social media producer for the Dallas Wings. Zari and the other newcomer, the basketball prodigy Paige Bueckers find comfort in each other trying to adapt to life in their new hometown.

playlist & synopsis prologue

before london chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7

ONESHOTS

earned it l paige x reader smut

let it snow l paige x reader fluff

in the morning l paige x reader smut

DISCLAIMER: i do not write for any player x player ships, i do not currently write for anyone but paige, again this is fiction and never a true depiction of paige as a person

#lilas writing #too lost in you #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x female reader #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc

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imdead770 · 1 year ago

Note

bro you should write x reader fluff headcannons for each of the outsiders characters

The Outsiders x Reader fluff - Dallas Winston

Authors Notes - 1. This is such a great idea. This is a great ask, woah. Thank you so much. 2. I'll do one for each of the characters, but I'm in a Dallas mood. 3. These aren't complete thoughts, more random sweet shit they'd do.

Dallas Winston

• Let's start with the basics

• Dallas Winston? Sweet? Damn you're lucky.

• When he confessed to you it wasn't a direct confession

• Called you pet names before you started dating

• But you're dumbass thought that was just his personality

• Which it is. You're right. He flirts 25/8.

• One day just asked you if you wanted to catch a drive-in

• And you were all 🤯

• Dallas Winston??? Actually asking someone out??

• The gang was practically flipping tables

• At the beginning he's still keeping up the act

• You know the one

• The " I'm from New York, fight me bitch " act

• But once he gets comfortable with you he's more " I'm from New York, love you bitch "

• He literally never calls you by your real name

• Doll is 100% his go-to

• Sweetheart, doll-face, the occasional darlin' and princess

• If you ask what your name is he'll probably ask which one

• He's actually surprisingly good with dates?

• Like the number type of date and give me your number type of dates

• He could list your birthday, the day you first kissed, the day you first fucked, easy.

• Never will though

• Gotta stay tough

• But he also is pretty good with balancing his time with you, the gang, and whatever else he does

• We all know he wouldn't hold your hand

• His hand's either around your waist, your shoulder, or in your back pocket

• He's practically attached to you

• He's not affectionate, but his hands always somewhere on you

• Like a moth to light

• He kisses you so much??

• Not pecks, he isn't Soda.

• If he's kissing you, he's making sure you remember it.

• Mf makes out with you anytime he gets a chance

• You're bored? He's kissing you. Trying to sleep? His tongue is already in your mouth. Accept it. You wanted this.

• Worst part is you can't even complain cause he's a damn good kisser.

" Dal- "

" Yeah? What, you got a problem, doll? "

" I hate you.. "

• You made out for like 3 hours.

• You're literally tired 90% of the time cause this motherfucker has too many hormones

• Not just kissing.

• You normally go over to his room at Bucks and sleep

• If you have strict parents he'll sneak into your room

• Not really a cuddle guy, but he'll let you rest your head on your chest or he'll drape an arm around you

• HIS CHAIN!?!

• I don't think people talk about this enough

• You fidgeting with his chain as you lay on him, both of you half asleep as he slowly smoked

• 😭🫶

• Whenever he's in jail and you visit him he'll give you his chain so you have something of his

• 😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶

• Has two pictures of you in his wallet

• One of your face, helps him get through jail and long nights

• Another of your body, either in lingerie or stripped, whatever you were comfortable with. The reason for this is self explanatory.

• Johnny's gotta move down to 2nd place because he loves you so much

• He's a close second though

• He skips classes a lot, so you've probably skipped with him before

• He went to school more so he could see you more

• Still almost flunks out though because he's busy starring at you

• This is getting long so I'll wrap it up

• He's still a little bitch, but he tries to get better for you

• Him and the gang are so grateful for you because his life would've gone to shit without you

No idea who to do next so please comment because I'm too indecisive 🙏

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #sodapop curtis #dallas winston #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #darry curtis #the outsiders x reader #dallas x reader #dallas winston x reader #dally winston x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston #dally x reader

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goldenseresinretriever · 7 months ago

Text

Snitches Get Stitches Masterlist

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (potentially eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Main Series: COMPLETED

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4.5

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 7.5

Chapter 8

Chapter 8.5

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Oneshots

Daddy’s Queen

One Man’s Trash

Blurbs

Matcha Latte

#snitches get stitches // goldenseresinretriever #sgs // goldenseresinretriever #San Diego dogfighters #San Diego dogfighters au #sdd // goldenseresinretriever #TGM hockey au #top gun Maverick hockey au #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #Jake hangman seresin x you #hangman x reader #hangman x you #no use of y/n

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uceyliyahh · 11 days ago

Text

BABY BOY

Summary: Chantel was backstage watching her best friend Jey cut his promo for his upcoming match against Gunther for the World Heavyweight Championship but things between the two get hectic causing him to earn a busted lip, but things between you two get heavy.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (M receiving), praises, daddy kink, mama, ma, baby girl, fingering, busted lip, two best friends that are in denial about their feelings for each other, fluff at the end :)

word count: 3,945

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

this will be my first time doing a one-shot so I hope y'all enjoy it, this will be in first person also 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @ctinadiva @celesteheartsjey @duhitzkay380 @luuvprincess

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @theusotwinzcom

CHANTEL

As I sat in Jey's locker room, scrolling through my Twitter feed, I was overwhelmed by the wave of negativity directed at my best friend. It was truly nauseating to witness all the hate he was receiving; it just didn't add up. Yet, I understood that he was far from indifferent about it. True to his nature, Jey maintained a laid-back attitude, even in the face of such adversity.

I could tell he was completely in the zone tonight, engaging with his fans about his upcoming match against Gunther. Honestly, I wasn't a fan of his attitude; he came off as overly cocky. As I heard a knock at the door, I stood up from the couch and made my way over to see who it was.

As I swung the door open, there he stood—imposing and impressive. Truly, his genetics were a blessing, as he looked fantastic for the evening. His mullet, a striking red and flowing long, was perfectly faded on both sides. He sported a Dallas Yeet Stars shirt, paired with black sweats that playfully revealed his pink boxers beneath. Accentuating his look were a Cuban silver chain, stylish piercings, vibrant pink glasses, and classic Air Force Ones.

His presence was nothing short of captivating, standing at an impressive 6’2”, a striking contrast to my own 5’2” stature. The way he flashed his dazzling smile, adorned with grills, only added to his allure.

“You ready to go mamas?” he asked while holding his hand out.

As I intertwined my small hands with his larger ones, I nodded in agreement, and together we strolled toward the gorilla. However, he needed to perform his special entrance, so he guided me to a spot where I could enjoy watching him on the screen instead.

“How are you feeling about this?” I asked him.

“I’m feeling pretty confident about it, I’m ready to be a world heavyweight champion speak my mind you know,” I nodded my head in agreement admiring his pretty features of his face.

Since the moment I met Jey at the gym where I used to work out, I’ve been smitten. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, and we quickly became close, enjoying exciting dates and spending time at each other’s places. With every shared experience, my feelings for him deepened, yet he remained unaware of the intensity of my emotions.

At least that’s what I thought.

We finally reached the Gorilla position, where he gently kissed my forehead before heading out to make his entrance, kicking off the show. We shared a warm hug, and as I stepped inside, I greeted Triple H and the rest of the team.

I settled into the chair, captivated by the television show as I listened to the crowd erupt in cheers for him. This man radiated an incredible presence, and witnessing the adoration from his fans filled me with joy. It was truly uplifting to see someone so deserving of love and appreciation.

He descended the steps, radiating like a star, captivating everyone around him. As he made his way down, he engaged with a little boy, both of them joyfully waving their hands in the air. The crowd behind him mirrored their excitement, and in a delightful moment, the little boy reached out for a high five, which Jey happily returned as he continued his descent.

I watched as Gunther entered the Gorilla position, the World Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulders. He focused intently on Jey, who was on the screen engaging with Michael Cole, before making his way into the ring.

He kept engaging with the audience, allowing his music to play on before finally seizing the mic to address them. Michael Cole had me in stitches with his energetic antics, bouncing around the stage with such enthusiasm.

As Jey prepared to address the audience, the atmosphere electrified with the crowd erupting into a chant of "yeet" that echoed throughout the arena, drowning out his voice before he even had a chance to begin.

He began to speak, “I said” he continues on, “Main Event Jey Uso is now in yo’ cityyyy,” he shouted while the crowd was cheering for him.

“Y’all already know what I’m about say tho right? At Saturday’s Night Main Event, imma beat Gunther and become the new—“ that’s when Gunther music began to hit cutting Jey off from his speech.

I noticed him removing his pink yeet glasses, a hint of nostalgia in his expression as he awaited Gunther's arrival. As I mentioned earlier, his cocky demeanor didn't sit well with me, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him while glancing at the screen.

The audience erupted in boos as he emerged from the Gorilla position. I found myself silently joining in the disapproval. Gunther ascended the steel steps, making his way into the ring, all while Jey shot him a fierce glare as he clutched the microphone.

His music cuts as the crowd went silent before he could speak into the mic, “what I saw back there it just made me realize that you aren’t on my level Jey,”

“you come out here yeeting with the crowd forgetting about our conversation the other day like it didn’t mean anything to you,” Gunther said.

“you sit right in front of me here, and you look me in the eye and you said, every morning when you wake up, you in the mirror and you bet on yourself,”

I was uneasy about how this situation was unfolding, especially with Jey staring at him as if he were out of his mind, while the crowd reacted with disbelief.

“And you know what? The thing is , I really believed you I was actually looking forward to Saturday Night Main Event to get in the ring and square with main event Jey Uso.”

The audience erupted in cheers of "yeet" as Jey stood there, gazing intently into his eyes. He continued to speak passionately, his words flowing endlessly, until he unexpectedly mentioned Jimmy, momentarily catching Jey off guard.

“Don’t speak on my brother Jimmy—“

“Or what? I’m just saying look around you Jey, you are like a mascot to this crowd,” he said as the crowd began booing him.

“You know what you’re right Uce, I am a mascot aight? You right yet again, but here’s the thing though this right here, this is my team,” Jey said.

“This right here is my squad, cuz they ride with me, slide with me and on Saturday they gonna be with me when I beat you for the world heavyweight championship uce,” The crowd was cheering for him meanwhile I was in the Gorilla listening to him being confident.

That’s what I loved about him he was so confident in what he was saying and I had faith in him as his best friend maybe even more at that until Gunther brought up my name in the conversation.

“Okay then what about Chantel then? Is she gonna ride with you, slide with you?” He said.

“Aye, don’t bring her up in all of this, this is between you and I, me and you. I told you i respected you uce,” Jey took a slight pause, “but Gunther, you gonna respect me too, you’re gonna put some respect on my name,”

I seen that Jey had slight smirk in his face, “Cuz there’s only one of us standing in this ring right now that main evented Wrestlemania and it ain’t you,” that’s when he dropped the mic mean mugging and Gunther threw his title at him at they both began to go at it with each other.

As Gunther attempted to retaliate, Jey's strength and aggression overwhelmed him, forcing him against the turnbuckle where he took a brutal beating, all while I cheered enthusiastically from the gorilla position.

Gunther attempted to retaliate by shoving him aside, but Jey swiftly countered with a super kick to his face as he rolled out of the ring, leaving his championship belt behind.

That’s where I could see blood coming from his lip that fool done busted my bestie’s lip Jey grabbed his title shouting “c’mon!” “C’mon!” As Gunther was telling him to not touch his title.

Once the commercial break began, I rose from my seat and noticed Gunther storming backstage, clearly furious. My mind, however, was preoccupied with concern for Jey and his injured lip.

When I noticed him walking in with a bleeding lip, my immediate instinct was to rush over, filled with concern for his well-being.

“I’m okay mama, I promise,” Jey said softly.

“You’re not okay, c’mon so I can get you cleaned up “ I said as I took him to the medical room.

As I prepared to tend to his injured lip in the medical room, I could feel his discomfort. He always dreaded this part of the process. Sitting on the medical bed, he watched my every move with a mix of apprehension and resignation.

I approached him, maneuvering between his legs with everything I required. Gently, I took his hand away from his lip, noticing the blood still trickling. As I prepared to treat the wound, I poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball and pressed it firmly against the injury, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

"I understand that this is painful, and I truly empathize with you. However, you need to trust me on this, Jey. I have to keep applying pressure to your lip, so please bear with me."

As I tended to his wound, I barely noticed his gaze fixed on me. It felt as if he had something on his mind, a message he longed to convey, yet he struggled to find the right words.

I looked up at him as he kept his eyes fixed on me, causing me to shy away from his gaze while I tended to the cut on his lip.

I carefully tended to his wound, applying cream to promote healing for the moment. As I organized the first aid kit, I sensed his gaze fixed on me, a silent acknowledgment of the care I was providing.

“Why did you avoid my gaze, Chanti?” He asked as I heard his footsteps coming towards my way while my back was turned against him.

I chose not to reply, fully aware of how this conversation would unfold. I wasn't ready to confront my feelings for him in such a way. "I'm not sure what you mean, Jey," I said, as I carefully returned the first aid kit to the glass cabinet and shut the door.

His body pressed against mine, effortlessly spinning me around, his towering 6'2" frame looming over me and making me feel diminutive. We remained in silence, the air thick with unspoken words between us.

I found myself captivated by his deep brown eyes, taking in the warmth of his caramel skin and the striking tribal tattoos that adorned him perfectly. The thought that this incredible man could be mine was driving me wild with desire.

As his fingers intertwined with mine, he pressed a soft kiss to my palm, drawing me nearer to his warmth. This was a moment I had longed for but never found the courage to voice. It was as if he understood my unspoken desires all along, sensing my feelings without a single word exchanged.

As we gazed deeply into each other's eyes, a silent search unfolded between us. Suddenly, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek. In that intimate moment, he whispered words that would send my heart racing. “Chanti, you’re terrible at concealing your emotions, you realize that?”

I pretended to be taken aback by his words, stammering, “W-what do you mean?” I could hear him chuckle softly, the sound slipping from his lips.

“Mama, c’mon. I’m not dumb I know you want something so just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” I couldn't shake the thought that if I allowed this to persist, our friendship would be irreparably damaged.

Looking deeply into his eyes—fuck it I stood on my tippy toes placing a peck on his lips while backing away from him to see how he would react to my sudden kiss.

He needed a moment to absorb everything before responding to my kiss, which prompted me to babble nervously, “I’m sorry, oh my gosh, I’m really sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—,” but before I could finish, he pressed his lips against mine, and instinctively, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck.

We found ourselves lost in a fervent kiss, something we had both longed for but never dared to mention. Jey lifted me effortlessly by my thighs, carrying me to the medical bed where he gently laid me down, positioning himself between my legs, his lips still pressed against mine.

I could feel him rubbing his hardened member against my damp underwear, and I could taste the blood escaping from his lips, preserving its wonderful flavor.

His tongue danced within my mouth before trailing down to my neck, where he began to suck gently, reminiscent of a ravenous vampire savoring its meal. The sensation made me let out a soft moan right into his ear.

Tugging on his mullet.

I wanted more and so did he.

I threw back my head in delight as I moaned his name softly for only him to hear, feeling his fingers slithering down my damp panties and pressing them on the fabric of my underwear.

Even though he didn't touch me, I could feel my smooth folds growing wet for him. Jey pushed two fingers inside my wet cunt and pumped them in and out of me after he slid my panties to the side to observe how wet I was for him.

I gripped his shoulders and moaned his name while his fingers were entering my warm, moist cunt, kissing my cheek and neck tenderly and sweetly.

Jey kissed my full lips and muttered, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this with you, Chanti."

“Me too..I was worried it will ruin our friendship,” I whispered back.

Jey shook his head as he spoke, “No way, mamas. This will only strengthen our friendship, but I want to be more than just your best friend, Chanti. I want to be your man, if you’ll allow me.” Deep down, I longed for him to be my man. Our adventures together, especially during our travels, had only deepened my feelings for him.

He kept pushing his fingers in and out of me, making me tremble beneath his touch, but I didn't answer him as I put my lips on his and our lips moved in unison.

Our lips remained together as he took down my shorts and underwear, and the way his fingers glided inside of me drove me crazy until he pulled them out, leaving me to whine from the emptiness.

As we moved apart, I saw him pull down his sweatpants, including his pink boxers, and my eyes widened as I saw his dick pop up and strike his stomach. It was big, meaty, and long, and I wasn't sure if it would fit me.

“but c’mere and use them pretty lips,” he said as I obeyed his request getting down on my knees knowing that the floor was cold as hell but I didn’t care.

I placed my hair in a ponytail making sure that it was secured properly while grabbing his shaft stroking it up and down seeing pre-cum dripping from the peephole, I gazed up at him seeing him looking down at me—Jesus the way he was staring me down was insane.

As he flung his head back, I started to move my lips up and down toward the end of his hardened dick, giving it nothing but beautiful kisses. I then swirled my tongue around his mushroom tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum as it came out and dripped all over him.

“Fuck,” Jey moaned.

He was attempting to fight the impulse to grasp my ponytail and face fuck me, but he just let me take charge of the situation as I bobbled my head on his dick and stroked it up and down while listening to his delicious moans exiting his lips.

There was a lot of salvia surrounding his dick, which made it easier for me to stroke him or suck him off, but I still bobbled my head up and down on his shaft, allowing his dick to hit me in the back of my throat, causing me to gag on it.

Jey wrapped his hand around my ponytail and began moving his hips pushing his dick down my throat again causing me to gag.

“Yeah, keep gagging on that shit,”

“Relax yo’ throat for me mama,” I did what he said relaxing my throat and let him face fuck me.

I kept circling my tongue around his attractive tip, tasting all of the saltiness from it, and inhaling through my nose while taking his length within my throat.

His moans were like music to my ears, “mhm…keep goin, keep goin’ for me mamas,” he moaned while speeding up his pace inside of my mouth.

I gripped his thighs, feeling that popping sound come in and out of my mouth. At this point, my lips were swallowing him whole, getting crimson and forcing me to look up at him.

I could feel him growing inside of my mouth while my tongue was glides through his shaft while I was playing with his balls, squeezing a bit that’s when he pulled out of my mouth. “C’mere,”

He lifted me off my knees, grabbing me up by the thighs and carrying me over to one of the chairs in the room where I was now straddle on his lap. I stood up, watching him stroking his mushroom tip over my slippery moist folds before I could sink down onto him.

Once I did a groan escape from both of our lips as I began bouncing up and down on his dick Jey held onto my ass cheeks firmly guiding my movements.

“Oh, fuck, Jey,” I moaned.

Jey was kissing me all over my chest, neck, and lips as I continued to bounce on his dick like no other. All you could hear was flesh smacking against one other reverberating around the room, hoping no one could hear us.

He drew me closer to his body, muttering nothing but wicked things in my ear, which just made me wetter for him. "You such a good girl for me baby girl, taking all of me in," he cooed at me.

“Yeah? Daddy?” I responded back to him.

"Yeah, make daddy nut baby," As I continued to bounce on his lap, I felt him whacking my left ass cheeks, and I moaned at the sensation; his dick was caressing my cervix so gently that I could see stars at this point.

Digging his claws into my hips, "fuckk it's so good baby," my eyes were rolling in the back of my head as I bent towards his face, planting my lips on his, and we began a vicious passionate exchange as both of our tongues competed for control.

I was tossing my ass in circles on his dick, which was hitting my g-spot so wonderfully as my wet cunt was saturating his dick so well that he could simply pump in and out of me so easy. "This pussy feels so good baby girl," he whispered between the kiss.

"Tell daddy that you love him and only him," he said, letting me feel every inch of him hammering hard into my sticky walls, crying out for him and only him.

When I didn’t respond to his question he whacked me in the ass cheek causing me to whine, “I love you! Only you Joshua!” I cried out.

Jey enjoyed watching me crumble below as both of our lips swelled from the intensity of our make-out session. I tugged on his bottom lip before returning for the kiss, pulling on his mullet and craving for more of him, lapping my tongue inside of his mouth while he did the same.

I could feel a knot form in my stomach, indicating that I was ready to come. Jey threw his muscular arms around my waist and began thrusting his hips more and deeper inside of me, while I dug my nails into his shoulders, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

At this point, I was overwhelmed and emotional, tears welling up in my eyes as I buried my face into his neck as he fucked me senselessly. The more he struck my g-spot, the closer I was to my climax.

“F-fuckk, Jey. I’m finna cum,” I whisper softly in his ear.

“Yeah? C’mon make a mess on me Ma, give it to me,” the way he was talking me through was driving me towards the oblivion.

Jey kept talking to me through it while he pummeled my insides saying sweet whispers in my ear that were vulgar and nasty to point where I was about to explode on him. “I-it’s coming! Oh fuck it’s coming!” I warned him.

I held onto him tightly as he was beating my shit in causing me to let out a loud moan escaping my lips screaming his whole government name while doing so, I could feel my milky cream coating his dick up hearing nothing but sticky sounds coming from it.

My body began trembling and shake underneath him but that didn’t stop him from getting his nut he was determined to get his right after mine.

I could feel his movements getting sloppier and sloppier each second losing himself under me causing him to grip onto my ass while bucking his hips deeper into me, “fuck I’m finna nut,” I could feel his dick twitching inside of me when he had said that, “where you want it at mama?” Jey grunted.

“I want you to nut in me Jey, fucking nut all up in yo’ pussy,” I mewled out breathlessly.

“My pussy? This all mine baby?” I nodded my head.

He didn’t waste no time pumping his dick in and out of my now sensitive walls while he bucked his hips upward feeling his warm seeds emptying out inside of me like a volcano eruption shooting my inner walls up so good leaving him speechless.

Jey had pulled out from me as me and him stayed together in that position trying to contain our breathing while he began running his fingers down my back to soothe me placing a kiss on my forehead.

I found myself half-naked on his lap, resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat gradually slowing. As I looked up at him, I noticed he was gazing back at me, and a playful smile spread across my face.

“You so pretty mamas like for real though,” Jey said.

“Thank you, you’re handsome yourself sir can’t believe that you’re mine now,” I said as he chuckled at me.

“Baby, I’ve been yours since the beginning but c’mon so that we can get dressed before anyone comes around,” I nodded my head as me and him began putting back our clothes on.

- fin 🩵

A/n: I hope yall enjoy this one-shot lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

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