#i always play new games on easy first for the story though.

[sukimas]

everyone knows that the canonical touhou mode is hard of course don’t they. that this is explicit

[ethereangel222]

our safe haven

nicholas alexander chavez & fem!reader

premise After years of marriage and raising their daughter, Nicholas and his wife, Y/N, find their love and passion deepening as they consider growing their family.

cw fluff and eventual smut, oral (f receiving), penetration p in v, unprotected sex wc 4k a/n soft vanilla!nicholas fic is needed. this is my fav fic in my drafts so far! i hope you guys enjoy this <3

Reblogs are highly appreciated.

Nicholas quietly entered the bedroom, the soft creak of the door muffled by the plush carpet underfoot. The subtle scent of Amelia's lavender bath soap lingered on him, a reminder of the bedtime ritual he had just finished. He padded over to his side of the bed, his broad shoulders still relaxed from reading Amelia her favorite story, and pulled back the covers.

You were already nestled beneath the duvet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light on your face. The room was cozy, the air filled with the faint scent of the candles you had lit earlier—something calming, like vanilla and sandalwood. Nicholas slid into bed beside you, his body radiating warmth as the mattress dipped slightly under his weight.

He turned to face you, his hand immediately finding your hip under the sheets, his thumb tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your sleep shirt.

"She went down easy tonight," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile. "Asked for an extra story, though. Had to make a deal with her."

You chuckled softly, leaning into his warmth. The house was quiet now, the comforting weight of the day behind you, but as he lay there beside you, it brought back memories of when your life together had just begun—back when you were both teenagers, when everything had been new and full of promise.

You first met Nicholas when you were sixteen. He was the guy every girl had a crush on at your high school. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a natural charm that made it hard to miss him. He was the star of the football team, the kind of guy who could breeze through practice and still show up to class with that easy smile that made everyone feel like they had his attention. But he wasn’t just the jock everyone expected him to be—he surprised everyone, including you, when he joined the speech and debate team.

You’d been on the team for a while, focused on honing your skills and winning competitions. You were serious about it, and Nicholas, at first, seemed like he was just there to round out his resume. But as the practices went on, you realized there was more to him. He was good—really good. And there was a determination in him, a drive to be better, that matched yours. You couldn’t help but respect that.

It wasn’t long before the two of you started spending more time together. At first, it was just for debate practice, going over arguments and strategies late into the afternoon, but soon, those sessions turned into something more. After one particularly grueling practice, he had offered to walk you home. The conversation flowed easily between you, and by the time you reached your doorstep, you realized you were laughing more with him than you had with anyone else in a long time.

From there, it became a regular thing—sneaking out late at night to meet up at the park, lying under the stars and talking about anything and everything. Nicholas wasn’t just the confident, easygoing football player everyone thought he was. He had dreams, ambitions, fears he didn’t show to the rest of the world. You found yourself drawn to him, not just for his looks or his charm, but for the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was with you.

That summer, everything between you intensified. The chemistry was undeniable. What started as late-night talks turned into stolen kisses, and before long, the two of you were inseparable. You’d sneak into football games just to watch him play, and he’d sit through your debate tournaments, always cheering you on from the sidelines. It was passionate, reckless, and all-consuming.

But it wasn’t just about being young and in love. Even then, you knew there was something deeper between you. Nicholas wasn’t like other guys you’d dated before—he was serious about you, about your future together, and that seriousness only grew when you both turned twenty and found out you were pregnant with Amelia.

The day you told him, you’d been terrified. You hadn’t planned for it, hadn’t expected it. But Nicholas had surprised you, just like he always did. He had sat quietly for a moment, processing, before pulling you into his arms and telling you that everything would be okay. “We’ll figure it out,” he had said, and the way he looked at you, with so much certainty, made you believe it too.

He was by your side through it all—the doctor’s appointments, the late-night cravings, the fear of becoming parents when you were barely more than kids yourselves. When Amelia was born, everything shifted. You got married soon after, a small ceremony with just your families, a simple exchange of vows that cemented what you already knew—you were in this together for the long haul.

And now, as Nicholas lay beside you, his hand moving slowly along your waist, his foot gently slid between your legs, grazing your skin with a slow, teasing motion. The soft, subtle contact sent a shiver of warmth through you, each caress deliberate yet comforting. The quiet intimacy of the moment made your breath hitch, the simplicity of his touch pulling you deeper into the connection you both shared.

It was then, with his foot still brushing against your skin, that he whispered, “You know... I’ve been thinking… maybe it’s time we gave her a sibling.”

His words sent a thrill through you, your heart skipping a beat. The thought of another child had been floating around in your mind for a while, but hearing Nicholas say it out loud made it feel more real, more possible. You turned to look at him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You think so?”

Nicholas grinned, his eyes darkening with intent. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I think it’s time.”

You smiled. The thought of expanding your family, of watching Amelia become a big sister, felt right. But then, a small worry crept in. “What if she wakes up?”

Nicholas chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “She’s out like a light,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “And besides, we’ll be quiet. I promise.”

His fingers teased your skin, and your breath hitched as the familiar heat between you began to rise. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. He shifted, positioning himself over you, his body warm and strong, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His lips found yours again, and the kiss deepened, filled with both tenderness and desire.

Nicholas’ hands moved with a practiced ease, exploring your body in ways that made your breath catch. He knew you better than anyone else—knew exactly how to touch you, how to bring you to the edge of wanting more. His lips trailed down your neck, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the intensity between you building with every touch, every kiss.

“You sure about this?” you whispered, your voice breathless as his hand slid lower, teasing you, making your body respond instinctively to his touch.

Nicholas’ gaze locked with yours, his voice low and filled with the same determination he had shown since the day you met. “I’m sure,” he said softly, his hand moving with purpose now.

He gave you a soft, reassuring smile. His hand continued its slow descent, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts with deliberate ease. The heat of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your breath hitched, your body already reacting to the familiar, electric sensation of his fingers teasing your skin.

With one smooth motion, he tugged your shorts down, the fabric sliding easily off your hips. He didn’t rush, didn’t break eye contact as he took his time undressing you, as if savoring every moment. His touch was firm yet tender, knowing exactly how to build the anticipation with every movement. Your shirt followed next, leaving you exposed under his gaze, but there was no awkwardness, no hesitation—only the heat of the moment, and the years of trust and love between you.

Nicholas hovered over you, his eyes dark and intent, the air between you thick with the shared heat of the moment. His lips brushed softly against yours before trailing down your jaw, his breath hot as he moved to your neck. You could feel the anticipation building with every touch, every slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips traveled lower, kissing a path down your chest, the warmth of his mouth sending a shiver through you as he reached the curve of your breasts. He paused there, taking his time, his tongue flicking over your skin before gently closing his lips around one of your nipples. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you gasped, your fingers tangling in the sheets as his tongue swirled in slow, lazy circles.

As his mouth worked one breast, his hand slid up to your other, fingers teasing your nipple in a rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. The heat between you intensified, every touch, every flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands knew exactly where to go, building the tension, his fingers squeezing lightly before shifting to explore more, heightening the sensitivity of your skin.

His free hand, meanwhile, began to slide lower, tracing down your stomach and between your thighs. You gasped again as his fingers gently slipped under the fabric, teasing you at first, drawing out the anticipation. He alternated between kissing your breasts and watching your reactions as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your most sensitive spot with an expert touch.

You arched into him, your breath catching as his fingers slipped inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. The feeling of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers inside you, sent sparks through your body. He curled his fingers just right, finding that perfect rhythm, and your body responded immediately, hips lifting toward him as your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Nicholas shifted the covers up slightly, casting the room in a soft shadow as he lowered himself under the blankets, his hands gently guiding your thighs apart. His breath hovered just above your skin, and the moment felt intimate, almost reverent, as he placed a soft kiss on your inner thigh. He always took his time, prolonging the anticipation, heightening your awareness of every touch, every kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, you could feel the vibration of his words against your skin.

Then, without further teasing, his mouth found you.

The first touch of his tongue was slow and deliberate, a soft flick that sent a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers instinctively gripping the sheets as he settled into a rhythm. His free hand slid back up to your breast, teasing your nipple again, squeezing lightly as his mouth moved over you—exploring, teasing, and then going deeper. His digits slipping in and out, complementing the rhythm of his tongue.

Nicholas knew exactly how to work you, his tongue gliding over your most sensitive spot in slow, tantalizing circles before shifting, changing the pressure, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over. The pleasure built steadily, every stroke of his tongue a carefully measured step toward your undoing. His fingers worked in time with his mouth, adding pressure and depth where you needed it most, the pleasure mounting with every touch.

You tried to stay quiet, your teeth sinking into your lower lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out, but it was impossible to keep still. Your hips moved involuntarily, responding to the rhythm he set, chasing the pleasure he so expertly gave.

Beneath the covers, the soft sound of his breath mingled with the wet, quiet sounds of his mouth working against you, the sheets muffling the intensity of the moment but not diminishing it. The world outside the bed faded to nothing, and it was just Nicholas—his hands gripping your breast and working between your legs, his mouth coaxing your body higher and higher with each flick of his tongue.

Your fingers tangled in the sheets, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Nicholas seemed to sense it too—he pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue moving faster, more precise, and his fingers working in perfect rhythm, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension inside you coiled tighter, ready to snap.

The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with pleasure as he continued, relentless but tender, pushing you further and further. Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Nicholas shifted slightly, his tongue finding that perfect rhythm, his fingers deepening their motion, and the world seemed to shatter around you.

Your body tensed, the pleasure flooding through you in waves as you came, your hips arching toward him, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Nicholas didn’t stop, his tongue still working you through every shuddering moment, his fingers moving in time with the tremors running through your body as you trembled beneath him.

When the last wave of pleasure finally subsided, you lay there, breathless, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all. Nicholas emerged from under the covers, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he crawled up to meet you. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him, his body pressing down against yours in a way that was both grounding and electrifying.

"That’s just the start," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire, his hands sliding up your sides again, ready to continue what he had so expertly begun.

Nicholas hovered over you, his body pressed against yours, his breath still warm from the intensity of what he had just done. You kissed him back deeply, your hand instinctively sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer. His skin was hot, his muscles taut beneath your touch, and you could feel the weight of his need pressing against you through the thin fabric that still separated him from you.

He pulled away slightly, his hands moving to the waistband of his own red plaid pj's, and without a word, he smoothly removed them, followed by his fitted shirt, tossing them onto the floor. The muscles in his arms flexed with the movement, and the light from the bedside lamp caught the lines of his chest and abdomen. He stood over you for a moment, naked and confident, his body strong and familiar yet still capable of making your breath catch.

You took in the sight of him—the hard lines of his chest, the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the subtle sheen of sweat that glistened on his collarbone. Even after all these years, he had the ability to leave you in awe, the years of familiarity doing nothing to dull the sharp edge of your desire for him.

He noticed the way you were looking at him, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he leaned down again, brushing his lips softly against yours, his kissed trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers spreading wide over your ribcage, holding you firmly as his mouth explored your skin. Every touch, every kiss was filled with the same passion he had shown since the beginning, but there was a tenderness to it now, something that went beyond just physical desire.

He kissed his way down your body, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of heat through you with each soft touch. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressing against you as he moved lower, his hands guiding your legs apart again, his breath teasing your skin.

But this time, as he moved between your thighs, he paused, lifting his head just slightly to meet your eyes. "You ready for this?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with a kind of determined softness.

You nodded, your body already aching for him, your skin alive with the anticipation of what was to come.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Nicholas positioned himself over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours. His hands slid up to cradle your face, his eyes locking with yours as he lowered himself, entering you with a slow, deep thrust that made your breath catch in your throat. The connection between you was immediate and intense, the weight of his body grounding you as he began to move.

He started slow, his movements steady and controlled, each thrust pushing deeper, filling you completely. Your body responded to him instinctively, your hips arching to meet his, your hands gripping his shoulders as the pleasure built between you, hot and urgent.

Nicholas leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and hungry, the slow grind of his hips driving you both higher with each thrust. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, the intimacy of the moment making everything feel heightened, more intense.

As he picked up the pace, the pleasure intensified, and you could feel the tension coiling deep inside you again, the familiar ache building as Nicholas moved faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps against your neck. His elbows resting on the either side of your head, his body pressing against yours in a way that left no space between you.

The sounds of your quiet gasps and his low groans filled the room, mixing with the rustling of the sheets and the steady rhythm of your bodies coming together. Every movement was precise, deliberate, and filled with the urgency of the desire that had been building between you since the moment he climbed into bed.

Nicholas' movements became more intense, his pace quickening as the heat between you built to an almost unbearable level. You could feel every inch of him, the pressure and the pleasure combining in a way that left you breathless, your body arching to meet his with every thrust.

Your hips lifted to meet him, pushing yourself closer to the edge with every thrust. Nicholas groaned softly. He kissed your shoulder, his breath hot and unsteady against your skin, his body tense with the effort of holding back, waiting for you.

“I want us to come together,” he whispered, his voice rough with need, his thrusts hitting your spot in a way that made it impossible to think about anything else.

His breath quickened, his movements becoming more urgent, his hands now gripping your waist as he thrust deeper, faster.His own control was slipping, his low groans vibrating against your skin as his body tensed.

"Come with me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, waiting for you to tip over the edge.

That was all it took. His words, way his body moved against yours—it all came crashing together in a flood of sensation. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure coursed through you, your breath catching in your throat as you cried out, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Nicholas followed right behind you, his body shuddering as he gave in to his own release, his movements growing erratic as he thrust deep one last time, his own moans mingling with yours as he came, his body trembling above yours as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies still pressed together, both of you catching your breath, still coming down from the high, a reminder of the intimacy you had just shared.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his breath still heavy. “That was… perfect."

Just as the two of you lay there, tangled in each other’s arms, your breathing still steadying, you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door. Your heart skipped a beat as a small, tentative voice broke the quiet.

“Mommy?” Amelia's voice was soft but clear in the stillness of the room, filled with concern. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Your mind raced. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you frantically pulled the covers over yourself and grabbed for your shorts and sleep shirt, dressing hurriedly under the blanket. Nicholas watched you with wide eyes, his own face a mix of panic and amusement as you scrambled to get decent.

Finally, after a moment that felt far too long, you managed to pull your shirt on, smoothing your hair and taking a deep breath before facing Amelia. She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed bear, her little brow furrowed with worry.

“Ames, baby,” you called softly, sliding out of bed and quickly making your way over to her. You crouched down in front of her, your hand resting gently on her shoulder. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Mommy’s not hurt, I promise.”

Amelia looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. “But I heard you... You sounded like you were sad or something.”

You smiled softly, brushing a hand through her hair. “I know, baby, but I’m not sad. Sometimes grown-ups just talk loud when they’re... having a conversation. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

Her little face softened a bit, though she still looked unsure. “You’re really okay?”

“I’m really okay,” you assured her, pulling her into a hug. “I promise, sweetheart.”

You could feel her relax a little in your arms, and you stood up, taking her small hand in yours. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

She nodded, still clutching her bear, and you gently led her back down the hallway toward her room. The quiet creak of the floorboards underfoot seemed louder in the calm of the night, the house otherwise still. When you reached her room, you flicked on the small nightlight beside her bed, casting a soft, comforting glow around the room.

You guided her to her bed, pulling back the covers and helping her climb in. She snuggled down immediately, her little bear tucked close to her chest. You sat beside her, tucking the blankets around her small frame, smoothing the fabric out with gentle hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Mommy?” she asked again, her voice small as she blinked sleepily up at you.

You leaned down and kissed her forehead, brushing a hand through her soft hair. “I’m sure, baby. I’m so sorry I woke you up, but everything’s fine. You can go back to sleep now, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes already starting to droop as the comfort of her bed took over. “Okay. Can you leave the door open a little?”

“Of course,” you whispered, giving her one last kiss before standing up. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Nicholas had followed quietly, standing in the doorway with a soft smile on his face. He stepped forward, leaning down to kiss Amelia's cheek. “Goodnight, Amelia. Sleep tight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy,” she mumbled, already half asleep.

You and Nicholas exchanged a tender smile, quietly backing out of the room and leaving the door slightly ajar, just as she had asked.

As you returned to your bedroom, you let out a small sigh of relief, the tension from earlier finally melting away. Nicholas wrapped an arm around your waist as you slid back under the covers together.

“Well, that was close,” he whispered with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear.

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “Definitely closer than I’d like.”

Nicholas kissed the top of your head, his hand resting comfortably on your side as you settled into the bed once more. “We’re going to have to be a lot quieter next time,” he teased, pulling you closer.

“Definitely,” you agreed, resting your head on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath as the quiet of the night wrapped around you both once again.

[solkara]

❛ 𝐕𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 , rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you since you were young you would be a sailor just like your father you loved the water but the only thing that you loved more than the sea was your family

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , rhaenyra targaryen x fem! velaryon! sailor! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , so this is gonna be a two part thing for sure cuz I just had so many idea's to write down lol also reader is 3-4 year's older than laenor and laena in this fic also in the next part there might be a bit of rhaenyra's pov heheh

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ you were the eldest daughter of the sea snake. you had every reason to be as prideful as you were. you were the blood of old valyria and the daughter of the richest house in the seven realms. what wasn't there to be confident of?

⌗ growing up you were given the best of everything. the finest clothes jewellery and food. and while you had always been more on the masculine side. preferring sword fighting and play fighting with your father over more lady like actives. they never punished you for it though. if anything they encouraged it. well your father mostly did.

⌗ and your mother was supportive as long as you kept good manners when attending events and court. which was easy for you as long as you stayed far away from any form of lannister. as they had a natural talent for being able to bore you senseless. but something that never failed to excite you no matter how many times you were told it. were your father's stories of his adventures across the seas.

⌗ you had heard all of the stories more times than you could count. but you didn't care. as each time you heard them you seemed to become more and more fascinated. you begged your father to take you on one. but to your dismay you were always greeted with a firm no. before being told "wait until your older and you will be able to go on a voyage by yourself".

⌗ and so began the patient waiting game. as the years ticked by you were constantly bettering yourself for the day you could finally venture off alone and you became an older sister to laena and laenor. who quickly became your whole world. you adored being an older sister.

⌗ though you wouldn't admit it out loud you were closer with leanor. as laena was always off with the friends she had made in court. while the two of you preferred to spend your days sparring, going for dragon rides together on seasmoke and riptide, and talking about the things you had in common. one of them being. that you preferred goose. and he preferred duck.

⌗ the two of you guarded this secret with your lives and often covered for each other. as the other ventured off to meet with a lover. and when your parents found out about what the two of you had been doing. you defended each other when they said that. "this was just a faze". the two of you would die to protect each other so that made you going away all the more difficult.

⌗ it was your eighteenth name day. and your father had gifted you what you had always dreamed of. your very own ship which you had proudly named tides. in honor of your dragon. with a crew of loyal men to accompany you on your first-ever voyage. the twins did not leave your side all day begging you not to go. it broke your heart. the fact you couldn't take them with you. but you promised him that you would return with gifts for both of them. which calmed the two slightly though they were still upset.

⌗ as you hugged your mother, and kissed your siblings goodbye, you looked to your father who stood their watch. eyes shining with pride as well as unshead tears. pulling him into a hug you felt him burry his face into your hair before inhale your sent. as if he was trying to mentally memories you. as the two of you broke away you couldn't but smile at him.

⌗ and smiled even wider at him when he gifted you two new swords engavred with your name and house velaryon's sigil. and compass which had been attached to a gold chain to make a necklace which was also engraved. thanking your father for the gifts and saying your final goodbyes before departing. on your ship as riptide followed from above as wherever you went he went.

⌗ the moon's you spent at sea where truly some of the best days of your life. you and your crew had become somewhat of a family. spending your days and nights drinking singing songs telling stories and gathering treasure. while exploring the vast seas from essos all the way to yiti.

⌗ during which you indulging in your fair share of women of all shapes sized creeds and colours from common to high borns you had a taste of it all. though you never slept with them more than once. as you were not someone who was easily tied down. seeing yourself like the water free and forever changing.

⌗ you wrote your family often exhanging letters with your father and laenor the most. sharing tales of your adventures and other things that you had done while away. and you did return home to driftmark on rare occasions. once for laenor's wedding. which you didn't really care for as he was clearly miserable and it ended in disaster.

⌗ and the other time was to visit. with both times your parents suggesting you remain home for a while. but you politely declined as now that you had a taste for adventure you were unwilling to part with it. but that would quickly change after a turn of tragic events.

anon , hi !! so i saw that you're currently taking requests, so i have something in my mind, hehe. so, this would be a Rhaenyra x Velaryon fem!reader, and the reader is Laenor's older sister, who is a sailor who just came back from her long voyage on sea after finding out that his brother was murdered. the reader knows that Laenor prefers men more than women as Laenor is also aware that the reader prefers women. the moment the reader has set sail, she immediately heard some rumors how Rhaenyra ordered someone to kill her brother, and this sparked some hatred towards Rhaenyra. but, on the other hand, Rhaenyra is quite taken by the aura and confidence that the reader is giving. Rhaenyra made it her mission to try and properly explain the situation to the reader without the prying eyes and ears. Rhaenyra's only problem is that the reader doesn't trust her enough to be in a secluded room with her alone, whereas the reader is always glaring and avoiding to be near at Rhaenyra anytime the reader spots her in her point of view. you can choose the ending hehe >_<

[kedsandtubesocks]

game changer (national league)

MLB catcher!Frankie Morales x F!Reader

summary: it’s your boyfriend’s first big game on his new team & you can’t wait to see what fun the match holds for you and your favorite player

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, baseball AU, light use of gendered language, good cozy fluff, lovesick & sweet!Frankie, competency kink, smutty thoughts, spicy themes, light mask & outfit kink, car sex, heavy making out, oral (f receiving), allusion to p in v, eventual!husband Frankie, lots of baseball talk

word count: 2.9k

a/n: yeah didn’t think I’d ever make a new baseball story for another Pedro boy but I’m on that World Series championship celebration high so here we are LMAO, thanks to @tonysopranosrobe my darling for always dealing with my sports ass (ily forever Han) & to @jolapeno for always being the best Frankie enabler i could ever scream with (I adore you Jo) - and to anyone who decides to read please know I appreciate you thank you so much ♡

This is Frankie’s first season catching as a Los Angeles Dodger. You thought he’d be playing for Miami until he eventually retired. But baseball is still a strange sport, an almost chaotic rush of chess at times with pieces switching all around.

“A team still wants me even when I’m about to turn thirty nine. So fuck, yeah I’ll take it.” Frankie had joked then, but you knew, even for his age, he’s considered one of the league’s best veteran players.

Then before the trade was finalized, Frankie sat you down and told you he might be moving to LA.

“This means…we really might not be seeing each other as often.” He muttered. “But I can maybe try to see if Tampa can be an option.”

He was willing to find a way to stay in Florida for you. Even though you were a bit heartbroken he was leaving, you couldn’t let him pass up on this amazing deal and new opportunity.

The gentle cooling California breeze now flutters all around. You won’t be able to make many trips out here often, but you wanted to at least be here for the first home game to support your favorite baseball player.

You first were introduced to Frankie at your best friend cookout. You had met her cousins Benny and his brother Will before. You were instead being introduced to all their friends, including the very handsome Santiago who insisted you call him Pope.

However, it was Frankie who stole your heart that day.

You and him had accidentally walked into each other, causing your drink to spill on him. Frantic, and so embarrassingly apologetic, you immediately went to wipe away your mess.

“I gotta admit… I’ve been trying to work up the confidence to talk to you. Guess the universe helped me out a bit.” Frankie had shyly said, and his words sent your heart fluttering.

It was an effortlessly sweet introduction after that, filled with easy small talk. When you asked what he did for work, Frankie explained he worked at the stadium for the Miami Marlins.

“Oh that’s cool!” You had said bright, but Benny just as bright yelled out -

“It’s cause he fucking plays there!”

Frankie had blushed furious, cussing angrily in Spanish at Benny. But what Benny said was true.

Frankie, very humbled and almost embarrassed, confirmed he did in fact play for the Marlins.

“But I’m just a water boy.” He added with a boyish grin.

“He’s a fucking liar! He’s one of the league’s best catchers!” Pope had then yelled proud.

You became friends with Frankie that day, but you also quickly learned about Francisco Morales.

Professional Major League Baseball player Francisco Morales.

That very first day you met Frankie your knowledge of baseball was bare bones.

Now, as his girlfriend, he jokes how hot it is hearing you talk about the game with him or anyone else.

It’s how you’re able to mingle with the others in the large friends and family suite for the team now. The food of course is delicious, and everyone warmly welcomes you. But you want to be by the action when the game starts.

You need to be near your guy.

Frankie’s job as a catcher has him sitting behind home plate.

A catcher is an intense position. They’re the one person during the game that has full eyes on the field. They alone protect home plate and sometimes call pitches for the pitcher to throw. The catcher is even argued to be the commander of the field. Catchers need to be solid, almost a rock like foundation for their team.

“I only started playing catcher in high school ‘cause our team’s catcher got suspended, and they needed someone, so I just did it.” Frankie had told you with a shrug.

To you though, Frankie seemed born to be a catcher.

Even as quietly warm and playful your Frankie can be, he holds a stead quiet diligence. Always watching, protective of those he cares for. He’s hardworking and incredibly resilient.

However, there was a joke you read about catchers being stubborn because what person willingly and stubbornly sits in the same position game after game. You can greatly agree to the hidden stubborn streak Frankie holds, like stubbornly telling you he was going to fix your ceiling fan and then getting pissy when you had Benny simply do it for you.

But stubborn or not, Frankie has been the most perfect and openly communicative partner. Even with the long distance between you and him, he has always been a phone call away. He even stepped away from a pregame warm up when you called him crying and upset.

Your heart tries not to burst just thinking about him.

Then you catch a glimpse of him sliding his protective mask on, and your throat gets dry.

The first time you went to a game and witnessed Frankie in full catcher mode, you almost didn’t think it was him. The mask covered his face most of the time and the gear almost made him seem bigger.

It’s been many games since that first match, yet he still takes your breath away.

The mask covers most of his face, but you can still catch peaks of him. It does something to you knowing it’s him beneath it.

Now he takes the field in his new lovely blue catcher’s gear.

The chest guard extenuates his broad shoulders and strong chest. And if you thought baseball pants did amazing things for men’s legs and butts, the catcher’s leg guards highlight Frankie’s gloriously thick thighs and study legs.

Pride absolutely courses through you watching him behind the plate and warming up with the dodger’s pitcher.

“Come on, catfish!” Someone from the crowd even yells his famous nickname, and your lips twitch fondly.

With your Morales jersey on, you cheer loud and exhilarated when the game starts.

Frankie is unwavering behind the plate, rarely letting any wild pitch get past him. He earns the love of his new team fast.

Especially when he goes up to bat.

The walk up song he picked to play in the stadium is Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog, and the crowd cheers electrified when it booms loud over the speakers.

As hot as Frankie looks in his catcher’s gear, seeing him in the base uniform, with his batter’s helmet on, working on his swing just amplifies the strength of his shoulder and amazing arms - you’re in awe of how absolutely gorgeous he is.

He ends up striking out, but you still cheer loud and with reassurance.

“Looking good, Morales!” You even scream, and you swear you see his lips twitch fighting a grin.

The Cardinals take the lead fast with two runs. The game becomes a slow claw to catch up. By the fifth the score hasn’t changed with St. Louis leading. But then the bats get hot and the dodgers manage to get on the board to tie.

The game heads to the bottom of the eight inning and the atmosphere dances electrified with the hope of a chance.

Eventually two players get on base with two outs, a very dangerous situation.

And Frankie goes up to bat.

You along with the rest of your section close by the field stand to cheer him and the rest of the team on.

This is a chance to score.

The first pitch comes too high.

The second speeds in, a sharp inside pitch that has Frankie swinging a strike.

It stings, but it’s a good swing. Plus there’s still time, more pitches. You reassuringly rally behind Frankie hoping just an inch of your words reach him among the buzz of the game.

The pitcher throws the next pitch, a wild breaking ball.

Frankie swings. The bat hits the ball with a rattling whack sending it zooming right along the first base line.

The stadium erupts wild. You scream watching Frankie run to first then watching a player run in, scoring the run. Francisco’s hit brought in the lead.

Your favorite player now on first base screams jubilant and punches the air elated.

The excitement of seeing Frankie bring the run in, seeing him so exuberant…it’s a moment coated in a glimmering confetti that cements into your soul.

The start of the ninth inning comes, and Frankie emerges behind the plate, your armored hero.

If the Dodgers manage to hold the Cardinals, they’ll win.

Each pitch, each play, has you on the edge of your seat.

At one point the batter for St. Louis hits a foul ball. Frankie flips off his mask, allowing for sight to catch the ball.

Of course the ball soared over the net into the stands unable for him to maybe catch it. But without his catcher mask on, you’re rewarded a glimpse of his gorgeous face.

Frankie’s traditional catcher’s helmet keeps his hair flat, hidden, but it highlights his strong features, that beautiful nose of his and his perfectly classic scruffy Frankie beard.

Then seeing him covered in sweat, your mind can’t help but flash to images of him in bed sweaty, his face blissed out and panting. Your mouth waters just thinking about your tongue dragging across his sweaty neck and tasting the salt of him-

You immediately snap yourself of the too heated thoughts when the crowd yells upset at a bad call.

With a runner on base now and two outs, the tension piles on as dread trickles in.

Soon enough the cardinal’s batter makes a solid hit. The ball gets fired up high in the air.

Then center field rushes in and catches the ball.

Game over.

Dodgers win.

The stadium overflows with excited pride, and you happily embrace the atmosphere in all its warmth.

You don’t move from your spot, too hypnotized by Frankie who beams with the brightest smile while he celebrates with his new teammates.

You feel prouder than ever to wear his jersey.

The third baseman's wife, who you clicked with earlier, brightly tells you to follow her so she can show you to the locker room. You readily go.

Excitement electrifies every inch of the place. Even though you feel slightly awkward being here for the first time, no one seems to pay you attention.

Until you hear someone shout your name.

When you turn to spot Frankie, he's in gear looking intimidating and sexy wearing his chest guard and protective leg gear. Heading down from the dugout, your catcher rushes over to you. Like a magnet, almost like sensing a tug at your soul, you instantly move towards him.

Frankie collides into you solid, all encompassing as he gathers you into your arms squeezing you tight.

“You need to get out of your gear, Morales!” You laugh.

“It’s fine. Bebita, you’re gonna have to keep coming to the games now. I’ve told ya, you’re my good luck charm.” Frankie’s voice sounds like the bright sun from today’s game still shines brilliantly in it.

You hug him back, spilling nothing but praise.

“You were amazing! I’m so proud of you!” You gush.

You’re already thinking of how to celebrate.

“Marry me.” Frankie says simply that you think you maybe misheard him.

“Frankie honey, what?” Curiosity has you about pulling away from his grasp. Instead Frankie clutches onto you even more.

He says your name. “I…fuck I don’t have the ring with me here, and I know just sprang this up but-“

“You wanna marry me?” Your voice wavers, cutting him off.

You and him have talked about the future, a tentative slow swim treading the possible waters. Frankie’s mentioned buying an apartment together. He’s made the joke, lightly teasing, about you one day becoming a baseball wife.

You had held onto all these small edges of hope. It now all unfurls beautifully overwhelming.

“Yeah baby, but only if you’ll have me.” Frankie nods, his voice thick as he finally draws back out of your arms to get down on one knee.

You wonder if this is a dream you’ve slipped into.

Asking this still in uniform is so Frankie, and your eyes spill over with tears. You nod yes, and your favorite baseball catcher springs to life bolting up to kiss you.

You forgot you’re still in a very open and public setting until all the gasps and excited claps fill the space.

Taking it all in stride you warmly laugh it off letting Frankie hold you close to his side. His eyes even shimmer, precious earth stones.

The evening feels soaked in joy like a beautiful watercolor dream.

You urge your favorite baseball player to go eat dinner with his team, celebrate. But he leans down to whisper in your ear -

“I wanna eat my fiancée’s pussy for dinner.”

Your knees almost give out that second.

Frankie and you barely make it to his truck before he’s drawing you into the backseat, clawing at you, frantically. And you’re just as bad.

You want him inside you. But as promised, Frankie maneuvers you to sit up for him to crawl between your legs. The position is cramped, but you could care less.

Your sweet Frankie, who normally loves to take his time, tear you apart with the most focused and patient ease, now is replaced by a man wild who grips your thighs so tight and laps at your clit messy. You come ridiculously fast on his skilled fingers and feverish tongue feasting on you.

You whine unbearably needy for him, can't go on anymore without him inside of you.

Frankie shifts to sit on the back seat and keep you close while you slide on top of his cock. His stretch in you rips a fire up your spine and you moan as your eyes close.

“Mi amor, my future wife.” Frankie’s voice fills the heated sweaty space with a gilded reverence, and you scramble to kiss him.

Your future husband.

You were slightly worrie about Frankie being tried from his game, but the way he frantically fucks up into you reminds you of a man compeltely possessed. His hands grab you as if he’s worried you’ll float away.

“God, I fucking love you…gonna marry you,” Frankie mumbles, pussy drunk.

You feel just as drunk and reborn as he does, melting into this love.

Your climax knocks you breathless, a blazing star, and Frankie is not far behind.

You don’t move off him and with the way his arms tighten around you, he’s alright with you staying simply close to him as possible.

“You said you had a ring?” You ask tentatively, running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” Frankie chuckles. “Bought it the day after you face timed me about that cute dog you saw at the store.”

That was a year ago. Your heart feels like it’s blooming a new world right in your chest, and you curl closer into him.

“Thought about proposing to you when I picked you up at the airport yesterday, but you were so tired baby.” He softly says, his hands a warm cocoon around you.

“And today…fuck seeing you cheering in the stands, hearing you. It just got me to more.”

Curiously, you ask what he means.

Frankie, confident as he is on the field, is still so shy, especially now as he burrows his face into your shoulder.

“I mean…I just want to see you at every game. Wanna come home to you. Then just thinking about that, and seeing you wearing my jersey, maybe having it as your last name-”

You rush to kiss him quickly, overtaken by so much adoration and love for this man. The thought had come once, or twice, about being a Morales yourself. You even tell him that.

“Yeah, you ready to be mine officially?” His voice drops low and silky.

You nod moving to kiss his cheek, then rest your face against his.

A soft moment passes while his warm hands rub against every inch of you he can reach.

“Know it’s still early to even talk about wedding shit or living arrangements, but just wanna take care of you, that’s all.” Frankie says firm. “I’ve joked about it but… you could quit your job tomorrow, move out here this weekend, and I’d be fucking over the moon. But I also want you to have your own path too.”

You think of Frankie, your stable ever loving and giving Francisco. His heart shines beautiful right here, right now. It’s like a live wire dances on your skin. Everything still feels intense. Maybe the sensation and rawness of becoming engaged has your mind feeling deliciously fuzzy.

“Just want you Frankie, that’s all.” You breathe those words letting them sink past your bones.

You softly kiss him, love sick syrupy drunk again.

It’s a promise to talk about this more later, about the possibility of living among the California weather with your future husband, it’s a dream you want to soak in.

But it summons up another dream, a sticky hot desire that crawls its way up.

“You remember that fantasy I told you about?” So dazed and in love, your thoughts slip out.

Frankie groans clutching onto you tighter.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble,” he sighs. “Trying to fuck me in my gear, before a game.”

“Yeah but that was before when I was just your girlfriend.” You coo already feeling your body slowly roll against him.

“As your wife maybe I could-”

Frankie swiftly cuts you off, kissing you so fast that it rattles your bones, and it’s beautiful.

You laugh feeling like maybe you’re the one who truly won tonight.

[hurts2think]

hii! Can i req a red x f reader ?I dont rlly have any good plots in mind but maybe like a enemies to lovers trope where red & reader met at auradon prep for the first time and the reader totally caught red’s eye but red denies it and is mean, then gets jealous and confesses in the end

Something like that!

♥️Red Hearts x Fem!Reader♥️

Reader pronouns: She/her

Pairing: Red Hearts x Fem!Reader

Plot: Very low-key rivals to lovers. Reader is a Knight in training who's a rule follower while Red is rebellious and doesn't live by the rules. Red joins R.O.A.R, the fencing inspired game from Descendants 2.

Word Count: 2.6k

Extra: This is the first fanfic I've wrote in a VERY long time and also my first ever x reader fic. So I hope it's good <3 thank you for reading.

Auradon Prep was always your favorite place to be. It felt like a place you could finally fit into. Before you, your parents were knights and protected their kingdom, and they expected the same from you. So naturally you signed up for R.O.A.R aka Royal Order of Auradon Regiment.

R.O.A.R was what you looked forward to the most for your junior year at AP. You heard the horror stories of it being a boys-only sport until the famous Lonnie, daughter of Mulan, once became captain and changed the rules for good. Now R.O.A.R actually became a female dominated sport at AP. Which you didn't really mind either way who was in the team, as long as they were easy to get along with.

Unfortunately, there was a new person on the team this year. You heard of her, everyone has, but you never had any real contact with her. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little annoyed with her constant sour attitude and the need to break rules. This girl was of course, Princess Red from Wonderland. Her bright red hair and her punk-esque style made her stand out from the rest. You thought she'd be... Mad. Like how everyone supposedly is in Wonderland. But she seemed to just be any other girl with a bad attitude.

"This costume is stupid." The red girl declared, "And is the mask really necessary too?" She complained as she was getting ready for practice in the locker room.

Most people ignored her. Many students were pretty intimidated by her, which made you feel bad to some degree. Even if she wasn't the most well behaved, it was still a pity she didn't seem to make friends easily. So after a moment of silence from the rest of the team, you finally spoke up,

"It's a uniform, not a costume. And it is required. The mask is to keep us safe too." You explained, unintentionally coming off as a little harsh. But that was what most people expected from you. Always by the book, a little cold, and stubborn. Not that you meant to come off that way. But being surrounded by knights your whole life, you kind of picked up that attitude. But really once people got to know you, you were sweet and a lot more easy going.

"Right. Whatever." She shrugged, leaving the locker room once she was dressed and ready.

You sighed and finished getting ready before following everyone else out to the strip where practice would finally begin.

"Okay team, as you know, we have a new member with us so let's make sure she feels welcome and a part of the team." The Captian, Nilly, declared to everyone. And though your eyes stayed fixed on the Captian, you couldn't help but have your gaze dash to Red for a quick moment. She didn't seem too enthused by the 'warm welcome'.

"Now, let's not waste any more time and get started." Nilly said, pairing up everyone to fight each other before her gaze fixed on you as she thought for a moment, "Why don't you go with Red? Show her the ropes?" Really it seemed like Nilly was worried that Red would break some rules or not play fairly. Since you were next to be Captian, it was only fair for you to be the one with her.

You didn't sigh or groan, you just gave a firm nod at the command as Red came over to stand across from you.

Your eyes locked together, her attitude had been nothing but lazy and rude, but now you could see the determination in her face. She definitely wouldn't go down without a fight.

"...lower the point, mask down," you suddenly snapped back from your thoughts to the sound of Nilly's voice. Then the game had started.

Swords clashed, people jumped around, it was overall a pretty chaotic sport like most of the sport in Auradon. But it wasn't a sport you've ever gone defeated in, and maybe that's why it was unexpected that Red seemed to be a total natural. Maybe you let your guard down a little bit and she got the upperhand at first before you really had to focus and lock in.

After a couple minutes of swords clashing and people getting out of the game, it was suddenly just you and Red left. It was pretty shocking to everyone that the new girl made it to the end. You kind of hoped people would assume you were going easy on her since she was new, but really, she was putting up a good fight.

Of course, practice and determination beats beginners luck so in the end you won against her.

You take your mask off and offer her a hand, "Good game, you fight well." You said, as you said pretty much after any match. But you really did mean it. She fought very well, maybe they had something similar in Wonderland so she already had practice because she was very good.

She looked at your hand but didn't take it, "Yeah, you too." She said, walking past you without any other word. Her tone sounded far from sincere which made your brows furrow and a frown appear on your face.

At the end of practice, Nilly announced that she wasn't going to be at school for the next week and that you would be taking spot as temporary captian. You had to hold back your smile, but really you were excited! You would've actually already been Captian this year if it wasn't for all of your honors classes and after school activities that kept you busy last year. But this was a great opportunity to prepare for next year and college!

And as the new temporary Captian, you felt obligated to take full responsibility for every member. Especially the new one. So after dinner, you took it into your own hands to show up at Red's dorm and discuss the expectations and rules of R.O.A.R.

But before you could knock, you heard a noise from inside. A... Spraying noise? You noticed the door was slightly cracked open, peaking inside your eyes widened.

"What..."

Suddenly Red turned around to see your astonished face. Then her eyes narrowed, "what're you doing?" She asked, standing in front of her completely vandalized and spray painted walls.

"What are you doing?! Do you know how much trouble you'll get into??" You asked, accidentally raising your voice before talking in a hushed tone so no one around would get nosey and get her into trouble.

"So? It looks better this way. I couldn't stand the boring yellow walls. Yellow is not my color." She said, looking back at her work with a satisfied smile.

"But— It's—" you struggled to find the words, "If a teacher finds out you'll be in so much trouble." You finally said, giving her a judgemental look.

Red huffed and plopped down on her bed, "Then a teacher won't find out. Don't you ever have any fun in your life? Or are you one of those princesses who only live by the book?"

You couldn't believe this girl's attitude, "First of all, I'm not a princess... I'm a knight." You corrected confidently, to which she rolled her eyes, "And second, people follow the book for a reason! You can have fun without being... Uhm..." You try to find the right word.

"Villainous?"

"Exactly!" You exclaim, "Just..." You see that she was giving you a mocking expression, "Okay. Nevermind. I'm not here to talk about this." You sigh.

"Great. So can you leave?" She asked, but it seemed to be more of a demand than a question.

You simply ignored her and pulled out a small booklet from your coat pocket, sitting on a chair in her room. "As the temporary Captian, I wanted to discuss some things with you. You're an excellent fighter but you broke a couple rules... But it's okay, I'm here to go over all of the rules with you." You smiled for probably the first time at her.

"A rulebook? Seriously? You're cute n' all, princess, but did you miss the entire conversation where I just said rules were boring and that you're boring for following them?" She sat up, looking you straight in the eye, unamused by this topic.

"Well you'll be kicked off the team if you can't follow some basic rules." You replied, sensing this was going to be harder than you imagined.

To Red's demise, you sat there for the next hour, reading every single rule and explaining them to her. She kept her eyes locked on you the whole time, though you felt she might not actually be listening. More like she was studying you as if you were a weird looking bird at a zoo.

She observed the way you sat so properly and the way you spoke and moved was filled with confidence and almost demanded respect. Then she observed your features, your eyes, hair, face, style of clothing. It was all kind of attractive. Though you had a strict attitude, she was sure she could pull you to be more level headed and laid back. But once you finally finished and closed the book, it snapped her back to reality and before her thoughts really ran wild.

"Any questions?" You asked.

She just stared at you for a moment in silence before standing up, "Nope. You explained it so well. This was a very... Informational meeting. I think I learned a lot."

Red was most definitely being sarcastic, but you weren't necessarily the first person to pick up on sarcasm so your face lit up a little when she said that, "Oh! Really? We can go over all of the stances too and—" you suddenly cut yourself off and frowned, "Oh. Sarcasm?"

She nodded, giving a passive aggressively smile, "You can leave now."

You sighed and stood up to leave but not before saying, "You know, Red. I think you really have the opportunity to do great things. Your a great fighter and.." you look at the vandalized walls, ",a great artist too. If you could just do it the right way and—"

"Okay I don't need to be lectured by you." She said, putting a hand on your back to guide you out of her room.

You eventually left and mentally cursed yourself for wasting your time with her. She probably didn't even listen to a single thing you said.

But now Red was left alone in her room with her own thoughts. She couldn't understand how someone could be so by-the-book and proper. It was like that girl really was a knight who did school part time.

But something about her really stuck out to Red. Maybe it was the determination or the way her entire person demanded a respect that most people of real authority didn't have.

----

At the end of the week there was a school dance. Red didn't know why schools seemed to presistent on having a dance every 3 months, but she wasn't really complaining. It's not like she had anyone to go with. She was still relatively new and didn't have any friends. Well, kind of.

After her little meeting with you, she found the knight-in-training barging into her room more and more often this whole week. Offering to help her practice, help with school work, it's like you made it your goal to 'fix' Red or something. But Red secretly found it endearing. Your conversations became more playful and flirtatious, well, on Red's side at least.

She found your reactions entertaining. The way you'd look away from her and your confident attitude suddenly goes weak. A simple arm around the shoulder and wink was enough to make you melt.

Though you never actually considered the fact Red was actually romantically interested, no matter how many times she said "Well, aren't you cute?" To tease you. There was no way she actually felt anything. Right?

This year you were put in charge of doorkeeping so you had to make a guest list of everyone that was attending the dance. And now as the day was ending and people were preparing for tomorrow night, you were making the rounds to all of the people who hadn't signed up to see if they were going.

You found Red at the dining hall and approached her, "Red. You haven't signed up for the dance." You said, getting straight to the point as she was sitting at a table, drawing while eating a bowl of chocolates.

"I'm not going." She said, not even bothering to look up at you.

"What? Why? It's your first dance, and no offense, but you don't have many friends. It could be a good opportunity to make friends." You advised, taking a seat next to her.

"Sounds awful, I'll pass."

You sigh. Before you could say anything else, a girl you recognized took a seat in front of the two of you, "Hey, (y/n)." She greeted with a smile. Her name was Tina and she was a cute girl who talked to you plenty of times but you wouldn't consider yourself friends.

"Hello, Tina." You responded, taking your eyes off Red to look at the girl.

"So... Are you going to the dance?" She asked you, which had Red look up from her drawing for the first time.

"Yes. I'm the doorkeeper this year, but after that I'll be with the rest of you guys." You explained.

"Sweet. I can't wait to see you there. You're not going with anyone, are you?" She asked, leaning towards you and her body language becoming much more flirtatious.

"No. I mostly will just be making the rounds to my friends and hanging out with them." You didn't seem to catch onto the flirting, but Red definitely did. And, man, if looks could kill. Tina would drop dead.

"Well, I can't wait." She smiled before getting up and waving then leaving.

"Dude..." Red said, looking at you.

"What?"

"That girl was definitely trying to ask you to the dance." Red said, though it wasn't in a teasing way. If anything, she didn't look too happy about it.

"Huh? What? Tina? No no. She's just a friend and was probably curious." You said, there was no was Tina of all people wanted to go to the dance with you.

Red just shook her head and sighed, "You're lucky you're so cute. It doesn't matter you're totally oblivious."

Though she said it as an insult, you couldn't help but feel your face heat up at the comment.

"Well... It doesn't matter either way. I'm not interested in her like that." You said, suddenly feeling the need to separate yourself from Tina. You didn't want Red to think you liked Tina at all. But you didn't exactly know why you were suddenly so defensive about it... Obviously Red didn't care... Or maybe she did. You found it very hard to read Red. Which was one of the reasons you liked her so much

Red looked like she suddenly got an idea, "You know what. I think I will go to the dance."

"Really?"

"Yep. Wouldn't it be a shame if someone else was dancing with my Knight-in-shining-armor at the dance?" She smirked, putting an arm around your shoulder.

"Red... Are you asking me to—"

"Don't. Don't say it. I might throw up." She frowned but you smiled.

You took her arm off of you and instead held her hand, leaning against her slightly, "I'd love to go to the dance with you."

Red put her face in her hand, "Gross. Don't make it cheesy." She said, but it was obvious she was trying to hide her flustered face.

"Shut up, it's adorable." You laughed, nudging her arm and she finally smiled at you. An actual genuine smile.

[jayflrt]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 19. attention seeker

welcome to the second act. warnings for this chapter include depictions of alcoholism and family issues

'BEING AN INFLUENCER WAS A REAL JOB THAT REQUIRED A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF WORK.'

Yeah, right.

Shin Yuna heard phrases along those lines all the time. Whenever she watched other people's content, a good majority of the influencers would rant about how difficult their life was, or how stressful their workload was when it came to recording and editing.

Sure, it took some effort to edit and upload new content. Yuna allocated several hours a week to do so, but all she had to do was set up a livestream for the cash to start rolling in. Wear something skimpy. Bat her lashes at the camera. Pout a little. Play up the damsel in distress act. It was simply too easy.

princessval***: omg girl pls stop drinking 😭 onlyyuna03: she's so messy i love her luvyuna***: you're back already? i thought you were taking a break onlyyuna03: @luvyuna*** you must be new LOL she always does this

But this—the flood of comments that poisoned her screen—was the curse of putting herself on the internet.

It wasn't like this during her first year of streaming. Back in high school, Yuna's parents were fighting every day, and since she didn't have any friends to talk to, she turned to the internet. She would stay up all night in random Discord servers, chatting with strangers and confiding in them about her family issues.

Naturally, these chats turned into voice calls, which later turned into video calls. Initiated by her, of course. No one else had their cameras on, though; Yuna quickly grew comfortable being in the spotlight, basking in the glow of praise from strangers. Comments like 'you're so gorgeous' and 'you should be a model' made her forget all about her family issues for a split second. Like that, it became like a drug for her.

Yuna, who was starved of attention, relished in the validation she got from online strangers. Strangers who wouldn't even share any personal information about themselves, going by fake names and hiding how old they were.

Soon after, she made her own Discord server, inviting everyone who wanted to see her get in front of her camera and talk about her day. She knew how to play her angles well, acting as if she was everyone's girlfriend while using them to satisfy her need for attention. It was a classic marketing strategy: Yuna knew her asset was her beauty, so she used it to her advantage.

All she had to do was send a picture of herself or talk in a cute voice, and everyone would fawn over her in seconds. In a life where Yuna's own parents neglected her, she found people who cared. Maybe their intentions weren't in the right place, but they were present and ready to listen to whatever she had to say.

She got ambitious, deciding to start live-streaming to a wider audience. Yuna started on Twitch, playing various games like Overwatch and League of Legends. She didn't have to be very good as long as people liked her face and stayed for her reactions.

As she grew a following, she moved to YouTube and TikTok, doubling her follower count in only months. Before, she would be talking to an audience of around 20 people, but now she was racking in thousands as soon as she went live.

Of course, there came drama, too. And Yuna found it exhilarating.

If someone called her out on something, all she had to do was come up with some sob story about how she didn't deserve to hear that, and everyone would come with pitchforks to defend her. She was very calculative in that way, knowing exactly when and how to turn the tide if it wasn't in her favor.

For some reason, that never seemed to work with her parents.

"You're a disappointment," her father spat at her the day she showed him her Yale acceptance letter. She had sparkles in her eyes and a bright smile all day, only for her to feel completely crushed. She couldn't understand why; it was her father's dream for her to get into Yale, after all. "This is the only acceptance letter you've got, huh?"

Yuna hesitated. The competition for all of the Ivy League schools was rough this year; she had been getting rejections left and right, but she thought her family would be satisfied with Yale. After all, it was her father's alma mater.

"Yeah," she answered in a small voice. She looked down at her acrylic-damaged nails, neglected from years of biting the skin until they bled. "I thought you'd be happy with Yale."

"Happy?" Mr. Shin barked out a laugh. "You didn't actually get into Yale on your own, you know that, right?" He scoffed when Yuna gave him a confused look. Then, Mr. Shin slammed his phone against the dinner table, causing his wife and daughter to flinch. "Five hundred thousand. I paid five hundred thousand to get you in. Mr. Nakamura only paid two to get Kazuha in, but I had to pay five. That's how useless you are."

"Sunoo? You know my old boss's son?" he would provoke her for the rest of dinner. "He got in all by himself. You know Hyejin's son—Anton—he got into Yale and Brown on his own, too."

"You need to work hard, Yuna," Mrs. Shin said before stabbing at her salad. "Your dad could only get you in as an undeclared major. You need to get into pre-med on your own."

Tears prickled her eyes, but she stayed silent. Even her college acceptance was a fraud; she had done nothing out of her own hard work.

Except her skyrocketing career as an influencer.

The high of her fame only lasted a short while, though. During the summer before her freshman year of college, Yuna's parents discovered what she had been getting up to on the internet.

Shameful, they called it, as if Yuna was committing a crime.

Yuna's parents were surgeons, and rather good ones at that. They both got their undergraduate degrees at Stanford, and then their doctorates at Harvard. The two of them became neurosurgeons after their residency and board exams, and then transferred to Mercy Health where Mr. Shin became the Chair of Neurological Surgery, which set the bar a little high for Yuna.

She was never spectacular. She was always more interested in makeup and clothes instead of science and medicine. Yuna would've rather worked toward a career as a fashion designer, often dreaming about fashion shows she could design for. She knew she would make it far, too—even Donatella Versace told her backstage during Paris Fashion Week that she had an eye for fashion, and that she could go far.

The few times she visited your house, she remembered meeting your mom, a well-known fashion designer herself, and showing off her sketches. Yuna distinctly recalled her words of approval, and she had to bite her tongue whenever your mom would offer to take Yuna on a tour of her studio, only for her parents to turn down the offer.

Her parents were so adamant about Yuna following their path to becoming a surgeon that they threw away all of her sketchbooks and colored pencils when she showed them her work. Even when she got the opportunity of a lifetime to be taken under Vivienne Westwood's wing, her parents crushed her dreams under their heels.

From a young age, she knew that hard work was only determined by her parents. Her true efforts were simply considered a waste of time.

Naturally, Yuna let out all her emotions when she live-streamed. It just so happened that her parents found out through the families of people who knew her. First, she would be grounded. When that wouldn't work, she would get all of her devices taken away. When she found a loophole around that, she would have to endure her father's rage.

Halfway through her first year at Yale, her parents disowned her.

She was on academic probation after her first semester. While she was trying to file a restraining order against someone who was stalking her (who claimed to be a fan), her grades managed to slip until she failed most of her classes. The worst part was, she had been expecting her parents to worry about the stalking incident, but they only cared about her GPA. Casting Yuna away was just protecting the Shin family's shiny status.

Everything was gone. Yuna was no longer part of the world you and Sunoo lived in. All her connections to the medical field, all her connections to the fashion industry—all out of her grasp. Still, maybe it was her flickering hope to somehow please her parents that kept her on the path to become a doctor. Not that it something she was genuinely interested in, but she knew it was the only way her parents would take her back.

Now she had to keep up her influencer career to support herself financially. There was no way she would be able to pay off tuition, even if Sunoo had generously paid the deposit for her small apartment. She had to keep up with bills, rent, and utilities all at once, and it was all too much for an eighteen-year-old to handle.

She got used to accepting help because of that. You helped foot some of her bills, Sunoo helped with tuition, Anton helped make sure she was eating, and the money she got from streaming and posting videos was enough to cover the rest of her expenses.

Even with an outlet to express her concerns to her fans, though, Yuna was struggling with barely making friends. You, Sunoo, and Anton were the only ones who lent a shoulder and an ear for her to dump all her pain and worries to. But she still had to hold them at arm's length. After all, all of their upper-crust families were in close contact with each other.

And then there was Lee Heeseung.

He was a new face in the socialite scene. No one had heard of him or his family before. Heeseung was probably Yuna's ideal type—handsome, intelligent, popular, and someone who hadn't been sucked into her world yet. Although he was alledgedly close to you and Park Sunghoon, no one else had any idea of what his family did.

Over the years, Yuna was terrified that she had built a reputation among the rich families that were in her circle. She could feel the disdain in their eyes when she was at social events, steering clear of every adult that looked as though they wanted to probe her for information about her college admissions.

Heeseung, however, was like a breath of fresh air. There was no judgment in his eyes when Yuna spoke to him, and that might have been the very moment she fell for him.

He was different. He didn't have any expectations of her nor did he feel uncomfortable when he found out she was a streamer. She liked that he came from a humble background, and he never judged her from where she came from. Even when Yuna confessed that she had been disowned, Heeseung never looked at her with pity in his eyes. He simply told her that he would be there if she ever needed him, and he left it at that.

She tried her best to get close to him, but the closer Yuna got, the more she saw under the surface—the more she realized she was heading toward heartbreak. It was clear as day that Heeseung was deeply in love with you, and it seemed as though he had no intention of considering any other woman. Even Yuna could tell he would give up everything in a heartbeat for your sake.

Yuna did her best to avoid conversations about Heeseung with you. She figured that if they never brought him up, then you wouldn't start to feel differently about him.

To her relief, you started dating Park Sunghoon.

Yuna used Heeseung's vulnerability to her advantage. As much as she liked him, he was a coward when it came to his own feelings; Heeseung could only bring himself to come clean about how he felt for you after you started dating another man. Of course, he was turned down—ignored, even. In your mind, you just wanted to keep up the fantasy of having a close childhood friend to the point where you had Heeseung bottle up everything he felt.

Yuna thought you were cruel back then, but she was even more so.

She knew that Heeseung couldn't do anything about his feelings no matter how much it ate at him, so Yuna pretended she wanted to listen to him go on and on about how miserable he was. It was all because of you, and, for a period of time, Yuna despised you for it.

Months rolled by, and Yuna found herself going over to Heeseung's dorm room nearly every day. They talked about anything and everything, and then the conversation would eventually shift to you. Yuna felt something chip at her heart every time he mentioned your name, but she braved through it all.

"Thanks for coming over," Heeseung murmured, running a hand through his already-messy hair. Yuna could smell the alcohol on his breath when she sat down next to him on the floor. Heeseung laughed. "One-month anniversary. Y/N always told me she found those stupid."

Yuna pressed her lips into a thin line. She remembered walking to class with you last week and hearing you gush about everything you bought Sunghoon for your one-month anniversary as a couple. She thought it was sweet back then, but hearing it come from Heeseung made Yuna feel sick.

"You don't have to thank me," she said, hugging her knees to her chest. "I just wanted to be here for you."

The first time she tried to kiss Heeseung was that night.

The first time Heeseung rejected her was right after he stopped her.

"I can't," he said at the time, drawing away from her. "I'm sorry, it's just—"

"You're not over Y/N," she finished for him with a twinge of bitterness.

He shook his head, saying nothing. Yuna felt a surge of misdirected anger.

Yuna knew from the moment she met you that people like you were the shiny gold coins that everyone wanted to have, and people like her were rusted-over pennies on the sidewalk to be stepped on and forgotten. She was a fool to think that Heeseung would see past that.

"I know that." Her tone was sharp as she got to her feet, and Heeseung followed suit right after. "But I suggest you get over her soon because it's not gonna happen."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Y/N would never go out with you. She already turned you down, anyway."

"Is that so?"

When Yuna turned around to look at Heeseung, his expression was like stone. Something ugly was twisting its way around her heart, squeezing out every semblance of affection she ever had for you.

"Yeah," she replied with a simpering smile, "because she's just too nice to choose the guy who broke her friend's heart."

"Broke—?"

"And," she said louder, cutting him off, "Sunghoon doesn't know, does he? Wouldn't he feel really betrayed if he found out?"

Heeseung kept his face impassive, but Yuna could tell he was seething. She cornered him quite well.

She kept that farce up for years. It was easy keeping Heeseung in line when you only had eyes for Sunghoon, and Heeseung was just so easily discouraged by Yuna's words. It was almost like he had no hope that you would take his word over hers, and that sent Yuna on some sort of power trip.

Her relationship with you was strange. Maybe it was at that moment when she realized that she was someone important to you, and that made her feel invincible somehow. She could do anything as long as you were on her side.

She liked drinking. Not because she particularly liked the taste of alcohol, but she loved the feeling of forgetting all her responsibilities. Every rotten memory of her parents would bury itself under the sand for the time being, and all she could feel was adrenaline pumping through her blood.

But she was never exactly in control. It only took a year to slip up in front of her friend group (thankfully when you weren't around), so she begged Karina, Yeonjun, and Giselle to keep quiet about her crush on Heeseung. They weren't even extremely close at the time, but they knew better than to tread on a situation between you and Sunghoon, whose parents were far more influential than theirs.

"It's only gonna cause more problems if she finds out," Yuna told them through choked sobs. "If Y/N finds out, things will never be the same between us, and Sunghoon doesn't even know that Heeseung has feelings for Y/N." As Giselle stroked her hair gently, Yuna said, "I can get over him on my own. Just please keep this from Y/N."

Karina and Yeonjun exchanged nervous looks before they reluctantly agreed. She had always been wary about Karina. Giselle was overly-empathetic to her situation, Yeonjun was a good listener because he thrived off of drama, but Karina had always seemed more skeptical.

And, as Heeseung knew, Yuna always found a way to silence people who she felt she couldn't trust, so she played dumb when she outed Karina on live.

It was a stupid move on her part, to be fair. Yuna deeply regretted it as soon as she realized what she said. Karina iced her out for months, and everyone else was on the colder side—even Sunoo, who had been her close friend for so long. She always felt strangely jealous of Sunoo, who got the approval of her father when she couldn't, but seeing him give her the cold shoulder nearly sent her over the edge.

"I apologized so many times!" she cried to him. Sunoo kept his guard up, but he always heard her out when she needed him. "I just don't know what else to do. I keep fucking up."

Sunoo frowned. "Do you even feel bad about what you did, or do you feel bad because you were caught?"

Yuna didn't respond to his question, but she knew exactly what the answer was. Was she pathetic? Probably.

She ruined everything. She always ruined everything.

Maybe it was just easier that way. Yuna knew that if she tried her best to please everyone, it would still never be enough. Hurting them before she cared too much was just a defense mechanism, as selfish as it sounded. If you chopped down the tree before it grew too tall, it wouldn't hinder the plants under its shade from growing.

The thing was, Yuna received blow after blow all her life without any acts of mercy. She was struck over and over again, and no one delivered the final coup de grâce.

Naturally, Karina came around and forgave her. Another missed blow. It was like Yuna was drunk off the drama itself because if she kept acting out and causing all these problems, then she could keep everyone's attention on her.

And then she wouldn't have to be so alone.

But the cycle went on and on, so when Yuna found herself texting Jay and Sunghoon in her drunken stupor, she hardly considered the consequences when she mentioned the long-kept secret of Heeseung's first love. You trusted her to keep your conversation with Jay about breaking up with Sunghoon to herself, but she violated that as soon as she could, too. She wasn't sure what it was, but whenever she looked in the mirror, all she saw was that she was as bad as her parents.

Yuna was fated to fall into the same destructive cycle over and over again until it stabbed her in the back for good. Until she bled out, though, everything was fair game.

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

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[amethystarachnid]

MATCHMAKING

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, a little spicy

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ AU: Steve plays rugby and reader is coach's daughter, they're in college

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve Rogers, the new boy who just transferred from Brooklyn and the new captain of the Rugby team your father coaches. The attraction between you and Steve is undeniable, his teammates can't help but notice it and decide to pull a little stunt during a fame of 'truth or dare'.

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ TW(s): heated kisses and a little mention of reader and Steve getting freaky but it skips to the morning after with just a few jokes about that night

ᯓ★ Request: not requested but I really wanted to write for Steve <3

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the college’s rugby field. It was early fall, the crispness of the air mixing with the faint scent of freshly cut grass. The clatter of cleats on the hard ground echoed across the open space, and the sound of a coach’s whistle cut sharply through the air.

Y/N stood at the sidelines, clipboard in hand, watching her father—Coach L/N—run through drills with the team. As the coach's daughter, she'd spent more time on this field than she cared to count, but it wasn’t bad. She liked the sport, even if she wasn’t on the team. The players respected her, knowing she had as much knowledge of the game as her father did, and she'd always been a presence during practice.

Her father’s voice boomed, calling out instructions to the squad as they shifted from one drill to the next, sweat pouring down their faces. Everyone was focused, pushing hard—it was that time of the year where everyone needed to prove themselves for a spot on the starting lineup.

"Alright, guys, that’s enough! Gather round!"

The team jogged over, panting as they crowded around the coach. Y/N tucked her clipboard under her arm, her eyes flicking over the group when she noticed someone she didn’t recognize. He was standing slightly off to the side, leaning down to retie his cleats, but something about him stood out.

Broad shoulders, tousled blond hair peeking out from under his helmet, and sharp blue eyes that flicked up toward her for a brief moment before looking away. He had an easy confidence about him, though he hadn’t been on the field as long as the others—definitely new.

“That’s the transfer from Brooklyn,” her dad said beside her, noticing her staring. “Steve Rogers.”

Y/N nodded, the name vaguely familiar. She’d heard rumors around campus about a hotshot rugby player who had transferred in last minute. Apparently, he was a big deal at his old school, but this was the first time she’d actually seen him in person.

“Steve, over here!" Her dad called him over, and Steve straightened up, jogged the few feet separating them, his eyes locking with Y/N’s as he approached. Up close, he was taller than she’d realized, and his expression held a mixture of politeness and curiosity as he glanced between her and the coach.

“Steve, this is Y/N,” Coach L/N introduced, nodding toward her. “My daughter. She helps out with the team sometimes. Keeps us all in line.” There was a teasing tone in her father’s voice, but the pride was clear.

Steve offered a small smile, one that lit up his eyes. “Nice to meet you.” His voice was deeper than she expected, a soft Brooklyn accent coloring his words.

Y/N smiled back, a little flustered by the intensity of his gaze. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard you’re pretty good on the field.”

Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I try.”

“Well, if my dad lets you on the team, I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”

Her dad rolled his eyes, already turning back toward the rest of the players. “Alright, enough chit-chat. Steve, get back with the boys! We’ll see what you’ve got.”

Steve gave a quick nod and jogged back to the team, but not before throwing one last look over his shoulder at Y/N. There was something unspoken in his glance—maybe curiosity, maybe intrigue—and she couldn’t help but feel a little flutter of nerves in her stomach.

It wasn’t often that someone new caught her attention on the rugby field, but there was something different about Steve Rogers. Something she couldn’t quite place.

As the practice continued, Y/N found her eyes drawn to him every now and then. His form was impeccable, his movements sharp and controlled. He was strong, that was obvious, but there was a gracefulness to how he played, almost effortless.

Her father had been watching Steve, too, nodding his approval every now and then. By the time practice ended, it was clear Steve was going to be a valuable addition to the team.

The players started heading off to the locker rooms, but Steve lingered a moment, catching Y/N’s eye once more as she gathered up her things.

“You staying around for next practice?” he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Maybe,” she replied, her own smile growing. “Depends if you’re worth watching.”

Steve laughed softly, his eyes twinkling. “Guess I’ll have to keep proving myself then.”

With a small wave, he headed off, leaving Y/N standing on the sidelines, a smile still playing on her lips.

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of practices, games, and long afternoons spent on the rugby field. Steve quickly became a star on the team, just as everyone expected. His natural athleticism and leadership on the field made him a perfect fit. The team had gelled around him fast, and the coach was thrilled with his performance—though that didn’t stop Y/N’s father from pushing him even harder than the others.

And then there were the moments off the field.

Every practice, Steve seemed to find some excuse to talk to Y/N. At first, it was casual—small talk after practice, a few jokes shared while gathering equipment, or a friendly wave when their eyes met across the field. But soon, it started to feel like more than just passing conversations. He’d linger after everyone else had gone, catching her before she left or inviting her to walk with him toward the parking lot.

Y/N didn’t mind. In fact, she looked forward to their chats. There was something about Steve—despite his rugged appearance and commanding presence on the field—that felt so down-to-earth and real. He made her laugh in ways she hadn’t in a while, and his Brooklyn charm was hard to resist.

But her dad wasn’t oblivious.

Coach L/N had noticed the subtle changes, the way Steve’s eyes would drift toward Y/N during practice or how his smile always seemed a little wider when she was around. At first, he ignored it, chalking it up to a friendly dynamic. But after a few more practices, he started getting a little… protective.

It started small. Her father would call Steve out for minor things on the field—things he probably wouldn’t have mentioned otherwise.

"Rogers, stay focused," Coach barked during one practice when Steve glanced over at Y/N after scoring a try. Steve's brows furrowed in confusion, but he nodded and went back to the drill.

Then, there were the glares. Every time Steve was nearby, talking to Y/N or even laughing with her, her dad’s eyes would narrow ever so slightly. At first, Y/N thought she was imagining it, but even Steve had started noticing.

“Does your dad hate me, or is it just my imagination?” Steve asked one evening as they walked toward the locker room. His voice was light, but there was a hint of seriousness beneath the joke.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “He’s just… protective, especially when it comes to me. He probably thinks you’re too much of a distraction.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Am I?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “Maybe a little.”

They paused near the entrance to the locker room, the evening sun casting a warm, golden light around them. The sounds of the team inside were distant now, muffled by the thick walls of the building. For a moment, it was just the two of them, standing close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Steve's blue eyes flickered over her face, lingering on her lips before meeting her gaze again. "Well, I don’t mind a little distraction."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, the teasing in his voice making her breath hitch. He leaned slightly closer, just enough to make the space between them feel smaller, more charged.

Y/N swallowed, feeling the tension crackling in the air. She had felt it for weeks now—the growing connection between them, the unspoken attraction that simmered just beneath the surface. But this moment was different. It felt like they were standing on the edge of something more.

Just then, the door to the locker room swung open, and her father stepped out, eyes immediately landing on the two of them.

"Steve, you still here?" Her dad’s voice was sharp, his expression unreadable. But Y/N didn’t miss the brief glare he shot Steve’s way before turning his attention to her.

"Y/N, we’re heading home in a few minutes. You coming?"

Steve took a small step back, clearing his throat. "Yeah, Coach. I was just, uh… heading in."

Her father nodded, but there was something in his gaze that made Y/N’s stomach twist with awkwardness. As Steve turned to go, her dad’s eyes flicked back to her, brow furrowing.

"You two seem to be getting pretty friendly."

Y/N crossed her arms, tilting her head at her father. "Dad, it’s nothing. We’re just talking. Besides, you’re always pushing the team to bond, right? Steve’s no different."

Her father sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, I know… but Steve’s new. You don’t know him like the others."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sensing the real issue. "Is that what this is about? Or is this just you being protective because he’s… you know, him?"

Coach L/N gave her a look, the protective dad look. “Look, Y/N, I’m just saying… don’t get too close. He’s focused on the game, and I don’t want things getting complicated.”

Y/N rolled her eyes again, though this time with less humor. "I’m not a kid, Dad. I can handle myself."

Her father exhaled sharply, clearly torn. “I know. Just… be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly, offering him a small smile to ease his concern.

Her father gave her a brief nod before heading off, leaving Y/N standing there, the echoes of the conversation lingering in her mind. She knew her dad meant well, but the connection with Steve… it wasn’t something she could easily dismiss.

The following days were a mixture of thrilling tension and underlying awkwardness. Steve, still as charming as ever, seemed to tread lightly whenever her father was nearby, though his lingering glances and soft smiles were still there. And Y/N found herself drawn to him more and more, the weight of her dad’s protective stance feeling like a storm cloud hanging over them.

After one particularly grueling practice, Steve found Y/N sitting on the bleachers, scrolling through her clipboard. He jogged over, a grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, you free after this? Thought we could grab a coffee.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing over at the field where her dad was talking to some of the players. She bit her lip, then met Steve’s gaze. “I’d like that… but my dad—”

Steve laughed softly, cutting her off. “Your dad will get over it.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You say that now, but wait till he glares at you again.”

He took a step closer, leaning down just enough so their faces were only inches apart. “I can handle a few glares,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Her heart skipped a beat, and for the briefest moment, she thought he might kiss her. But then he straightened up, offering her his hand to help her stand.

“Come on, let’s see if we can get out of here before your dad sends out a search party.”

Y/N smiled, her heart racing as she took his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers wrapping around hers.

The rugby team had won the big game, and the adrenaline still buzzed in Steve’s veins as he stepped into the frat house. The place was packed, music pulsing from the speakers, red solo cups in hand, and the air thick with excitement. The team was on a high, celebrating the victory with their usual wild energy, and the whole campus seemed to have turned out for the party.

Steve had been to a few parties since transferring, but this one felt different. Maybe it was because of the win, or maybe because his eyes kept drifting to one particular person in the room.

Y/N.

He spotted her as soon as he walked in. She was standing near the drinks table, laughing with a group of friends, and for the first time, Steve saw her out of the usual sweatpants and hoodie. She wore a fitted shirt that hugged her in all the right places, paired with jeans that accentuated her curves, and her hair was loose, falling in soft waves around her shoulders.

He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the game, or maybe the way she lit up when she laughed, but seeing her like that made something in Steve’s chest tighten.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, you’re screwed, man." Sam, one of his teammates, appeared at his side, giving him a knowing grin. “You’ve got it bad for her.”

Steve shot him a look, trying to play it off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t,” Sam teased, patting Steve on the back before heading off into the crowd.

Steve sighed, shaking his head, but his gaze drifted back to Y/N. She caught his eye for a second, her lips curling into a smile as she waved him over. He hesitated for a moment, then made his way through the crowd toward her.

“Hey, captain!” she called, teasing him as he approached. “Good game.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, smiling as he grabbed a drink from the table. “You watched?”

“Of course. Couldn’t miss your debut as the campus hero.” She nudged him playfully, her eyes sparkling.

Before Steve could respond, the rest of the team joined them, a group of guys and girls from the rugby squad already half-drunk and buzzing from the win. Bucky, Steve’s best friend, grinned mischievously as he threw an arm around Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey, we’re starting a game in the living room. You two are coming, right?”

“What game?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow, though she was already being pulled along with the rest of the group.

Bucky smirked. “Truth or Dare.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “That’s so middle school.”

“Exactly. It’s gonna be fun,” Bucky said with a grin. “Besides, we’ve got some good dares lined up.”

Steve laughed softly, catching the gleam in Bucky’s eye. He had a bad feeling about where this was going, but when Y/N shrugged and said, “Why not? Let’s see what you’ve got,” he found himself agreeing too.

The group gathered in the living room, sprawled out on couches and the floor, the vibe easy and relaxed. Steve ended up sitting next to Y/N, their knees brushing slightly as they settled into the circle. Bucky sat across from them, a devilish grin on his face as he spun the empty beer bottle in the center of the circle.

“Alright, let’s kick this off,” Bucky announced. The bottle landed on Sam first, and the dares started out simple—chugging drinks, making prank calls, the usual college party antics. But it didn’t take long for things to shift.

The bottle spun again, this time landing on Y/N.

“Truth or dare?” Bucky asked, leaning forward with a gleam in his eye.

Y/N hesitated, but the competitive side in her won out. “Dare.”

Bucky’s grin widened. “I dare you to sit on Steve’s lap for the rest of the round.”

The group burst out laughing, and Y/N’s cheeks flushed pink. She shot a mock glare at Bucky. “Seriously?”

“Rules are rules,” Bucky said with a shrug, though he was clearly enjoying every second.

Steve shifted slightly, trying to seem nonchalant even though his heart was suddenly racing. He caught Y/N’s eye, offering her a lopsided smile. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Y/N bit her lip, the playful glint in her eyes betraying her shyness. “It’s fine. Just a game, right?”

She stood up, stepping over to Steve and gingerly sitting on his lap. He felt the warmth of her body immediately, her weight settling against him as she tried to find a comfortable position. It was awkward, but also… nice. His hands instinctively went to her waist, barely resting there as the group continued to laugh and joke around them.

Y/N leaned back slightly, her back pressing against Steve’s chest. She turned her head, her lips close to his ear as she whispered, “This is so stupid.”

Steve chuckled softly, his breath catching at how close she was. “Yeah, but it’s kind of fun.”

They both fell into a quiet, comfortable silence as the game continued. But then, a few minutes later, the bottle spun again—this time landing on Steve.

“Truth or dare, Rogers?” one of the guys called out.

Steve didn’t hesitate. “Dare.”

Bucky exchanged a glance with Sam, a smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, we dare you to kiss Y/N. Right here. On the lips.”

The group erupted into laughter again, some of the guys cheering, and Y/N’s face turned crimson. She shot Bucky a glare, but he just shrugged innocently.

Y/N shifted in Steve’s lap, turning to face him slightly, her heart pounding. Steve’s face was red too, but there was a soft smile tugging at his lips. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as his hand gently cupped her cheek.

“You okay with this?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Y/N’s stomach flipped, her nerves a mess, but there was something about the way Steve was looking at her that made her feel safe. She nodded slowly, her eyes meeting his. “Yeah.”

Without another word, Steve closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was brief—just long enough to send sparks racing through her body—but when he pulled back, Y/N felt like the whole world had shifted.

The group cheered again, and Y/N, flustered, buried her face in her hands, laughing despite herself.

“Well, that was… something,” she said, her voice muffled by her hands.

Steve laughed too, his hand still resting on her waist. “Yeah. Something.”

For the rest of the game, it seemed like every dare had something to do with the two of them—holding hands, giving each other compliments, and, at one point, Y/N had to feed Steve a piece of pizza. It was clear the team had caught on to whatever was brewing between them, and they weren’t shy about pushing it.

By the time the game ended, the tension between Y/N and Steve was undeniable, and she wasn’t sure if it was the game or just the fact that they had been dancing around this for weeks.

As the night wound down and people started to leave, Steve caught Y/N’s hand, pulling her aside into a quieter corner of the house.

“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. “I know the game was just for fun, but… I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go out sometime. Like, on a real date. If you’re interested.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her smile widening. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Great. I’ll text you?”

She nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Sounds perfect.”

As they stood there, the noise of the party fading into the background, Y/N couldn’t help but think that maybe the team’s little matchmaking game had worked out after all.

The week leading up to their date was a blur of nervous anticipation. Y/N found herself replaying the kiss they’d shared at the party more times than she cared to admit, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Steve had done the same. Every time they crossed paths on campus or at practice, there was an undeniable tension between them—charged looks, teasing smiles, fleeting touches that left her heart racing.

The night of their date finally arrived, and Y/N felt a mix of excitement and nerves as she stood in front of her mirror. She’d chosen a casual but flattering outfit—something that said she wasn’t trying too hard but still made her feel confident. A soft, fitted sweater paired with jeans that hugged her curves just right. She took a deep breath, smoothing her hair one last time before heading out.

Steve had offered to pick her up, and when she opened the door to her apartment, he was standing there with that easy smile that made her stomach flip. He looked good—too good, in fact. His jeans fit him perfectly, and the dark shirt he wore stretched across his broad chest and shoulders in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he gave her an appreciative once-over. “You look… amazing.”

Y/N smiled, feeling her cheeks warm. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck as he held out his hand. “Ready?”

They’d decided to keep things simple for their first date—dinner at a cozy little restaurant near campus followed by a walk around the city. But even as they sat across from each other at the restaurant, sharing stories and laughing over their plates of pasta, the undercurrent of tension between them was impossible to ignore.

Steve’s eyes lingered on her lips whenever she laughed, and every time his hand brushed against hers on the table, a spark shot through her. It was like the air between them was charged, thick with unspoken desire. And as the night went on, the playful flirting they’d started with grew heavier, more intense.

After dinner, they walked along the quiet streets, the cool night air swirling around them. Steve’s hand found its way to hers, his fingers intertwining with hers as they walked. The conversation flowed easily, but there was something electric in the silence between words, in the way their eyes met and held just a little too long.

They ended up near a park, the glow of streetlights casting soft shadows around them. The streets were nearly empty, the city quiet as they found a bench to sit on, just off the beaten path. Y/N settled beside Steve, their shoulders touching as they sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the distant city fading away.

Steve turned toward her, his thumb tracing light circles over the back of her hand as he looked at her with a soft, unreadable expression. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and rough in the cool night air.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yeah? What have you been thinking?”

Steve’s gaze dropped to her lips for a moment before flicking back up to her eyes. “About that kiss. About how I’ve been wanting to do it again.”

Her pulse quickened, the heat between them building as the words hung in the air. She leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then why don’t you?”

Steve didn’t need any more encouragement. In one smooth motion, he closed the distance between them, his hand coming up to cup the back of her neck as his lips met hers. The kiss was different this time—deeper, more intense. There was no crowd around them, no game, no laughter from their friends. It was just the two of them, and the fire that had been simmering between them for weeks finally ignited.

Y/N’s hand slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt as she leaned into him, her body pressing against his. Steve responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer, until she was practically sitting in his lap. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that matched her own, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

The kiss deepened, growing more heated with each passing second. Steve’s hands roamed, one sliding up her back, the other resting firmly on her hip as he pulled her even closer. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps between kisses. Every touch, every brush of his lips against hers sent a surge of heat through her, and she found herself craving more.

Steve’s lips left hers for a moment, trailing down to her jaw, then her neck, where he pressed soft, teasing kisses that made her shiver. Y/N tilted her head back, giving him better access as her hands gripped his shoulders, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Steve…” she breathed, her voice barely audible as he kissed a sensitive spot just below her ear, sending a wave of heat pooling low in her stomach.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing just as ragged as hers, his blue eyes dark with desire as they met hers. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her lips curling into a breathless smile. “More than okay.”

Steve grinned, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her again, slower this time, but no less intense. The kiss was full of promises—of everything that could come later, of everything they both wanted but weren’t quite ready to rush into just yet.

Eventually, they pulled apart, both of them breathless and flushed. Steve rested his forehead against hers, his hands still holding her close as they sat in the quiet park, the tension between them simmering but not overwhelming.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you on the field,” Steve admitted with a soft chuckle, his breath warm against her skin.

Y/N laughed, her fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ve been waiting for you to do it since that stupid truth or dare game.”

Steve smiled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her hip as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way… how about we head back to your place? Watch a movie or something?”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing at the suggestion. She knew exactly what he meant by “or something,” and the idea sent a thrill through her. But she also liked the way they were taking their time, savoring the slow build of tension, letting things unfold naturally.

“Yeah,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “I’d like that.”

With a final lingering kiss, they stood up, hands still intertwined as they made their way back toward campus, the night stretched out before them, full of possibilities.

The door to Y/N’s apartment clicked shut as she and Steve stepped inside, the quiet hum of the city outside fading away. The soft glow from a few scattered lamps lit up the cozy living room, but neither of them paid much attention to their surroundings. The air between them was thick with unspoken desire, the kind that had been building for weeks and was now ready to erupt.

Y/N barely had a chance to kick off her shoes before Steve’s hands were on her, pulling her close. His lips found hers again, just as hungry as they’d been in the park, but now with a deeper urgency. She responded in kind, her fingers tugging at his shirt, her body pressing against his as they stumbled toward her bedroom.

Steve lifted her effortlessly, his strong arms holding her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their kisses were heated, breathless, the sound of their soft moans filling the small space as they tumbled onto her bed. Clothes were shed with a kind of frantic need, leaving them bare to each other in the dim light.

It was a night full of passion—skin on skin, lips tracing each other’s bodies, whispered words that were quickly lost in the haze of desire. They moved together as if they had known each other far longer than a few weeks, their connection undeniable, their chemistry electric. Every touch, every kiss, was an exploration, a discovery of each other that left them breathless and wanting more.

By the time they finally fell asleep, tangled in each other’s arms, the early morning light was already creeping through the curtains. It had been a night neither of them would forget.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sound of clattering from the kitchen. She stretched lazily in bed, her muscles deliciously sore from the night before. A slow smile spread across her face as she glanced down at herself—she was wearing Steve’s shirt, the fabric soft and slightly too big on her. It smelled like him, all clean soap and something uniquely Steve, and it sent a warm feeling coursing through her.

Curious, she slipped out of bed and padded barefoot into the kitchen, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Steve. He was standing at the stove, his back to her, wearing nothing but his boxers, his broad shoulders and back on full display as he worked on what looked like breakfast. The sight was domestic and unexpectedly sweet, making her smile grow.

“Morning,” Y/N said, her voice still thick with sleep as she leaned against the kitchen counter, her arms crossed. “What’s all this?”

Steve turned, a spatula in hand, and grinned when he saw her. “Good morning, beautiful. I thought I’d make you breakfast. Figured it’s the least I could do after…” His eyes traveled over her, and a playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Last night.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “You’re pretty good in the kitchen for a rugby captain.”

“And outside of it too, if I remember last night correctly,” Steve teased, his tone low and full of mischief as he flipped a pancake.

She rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered. “You’re terrible.”

“Just trying to impress the coach’s daughter,” he said with a wink, turning back to the stove.

Y/N laughed, settling herself on the kitchen stool, her legs swinging idly as she watched Steve work. The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air, and everything felt so easy, so perfect in that moment. She hadn’t felt this comfortable around someone in a long time.

Just as Steve was plating the pancakes, there was a sudden loud noise at the front door—the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Y/N’s eyes widened in horror as the door swung open, and in walked her dad. Her dad, Coach of the rugby team, holding a newspaper in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, completely unaware of what he was about to walk into.

“Oh shit,” Y/N muttered under her breath, panic flooding her as she shot up from the stool.

Steve turned toward the door, his eyes widening as he froze, spatula still in hand.

There, standing in the doorway, was Y/N’s dad—mid-sentence as he walked in. “Hey, Y/N, I figured I’d stop by to—” His voice trailed off as he took in the scene in front of him: Y/N, sitting at the kitchen island wearing nothing but Steve’s shirt, and Steve—standing in front of the stove, in just his boxers, holding a spatula like a deer caught in headlights.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Y/N’s dad blinked, his eyes narrowing as he registered exactly what he was seeing. His gaze flicked from Y/N to Steve, his expression hardening as realization dawned. His grip on the coffee cup tightened, and Y/N could have sworn she saw his eye twitch.

“Dad,” Y/N started, her voice high-pitched, trying to keep things light, though her heart was racing. “What are you doing here?”

Her dad didn’t answer right away. Instead, his eyes locked onto Steve, who still hadn’t moved. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, and Y/N felt her stomach drop as her father’s mouth pressed into a tight line.

“Well, I didn’t expect to find this when I came over to check on you,” he said, his voice low and calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it.

Steve, finally snapping out of his frozen state, cleared his throat, carefully putting the spatula down. “Coach, uh… I can explain.”

Y/N’s dad raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, I’m sure you can. But I don’t think I want to hear it.”

Y/N wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She quickly stood up, stepping toward her dad in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Dad, listen—”

“No, Y/N, I’m not mad at you,” her dad interrupted, though his eyes never left Steve. “But this… this is unexpected.”

Steve, ever the soldier, stepped forward, trying to keep his composure despite the fact that he was standing half-naked in front of his coach. “I swear, sir, it’s not what it looks like.”

Y/N’s dad gave him a flat look. “Really? Because it looks like my daughter is wearing your shirt, and you’re cooking breakfast in your underwear.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He was at a loss, and Y/N could see how badly he was trying to keep things together. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Her dad let out a long sigh, shaking his head. “You know, Rogers, you’ve been a damn good player since you transferred, and I had high hopes for you this season.”

Steve swallowed nervously. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” her dad continued, his voice calm but firm. “Because after this little display, you’re benched for the next two games.”

“What?!” Y/N blurted out, her eyes wide as she stepped between them. “Dad, come on—he didn’t do anything wrong!”

Her dad didn’t budge. “He broke the number one rule. No dating the coach’s daughter.”

“Dad!” Y/N groaned, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “That’s not even a real rule!”

“It is now,” he said, giving Steve a hard look. “Two games, Rogers. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before…” He gestured vaguely to the two of them, his expression unimpressed. “…making pancakes in your underwear in my daughter’s apartment.”

Steve winced but nodded. “Understood, sir.”

Y/N couldn’t help but groan in frustration, burying her face in her hands. This was not how she had envisioned the morning going.

Her dad sighed, looking at Y/N with a softened expression. “I’ll talk to you later, kiddo. But next time, maybe give me a heads-up before I walk into something like this.”

Y/N could only nod, mortified beyond belief as her dad turned and walked out the door, leaving Steve and Y/N standing in stunned silence.

After a moment, Steve let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair as he glanced over at Y/N. “Well… that was something.”

Y/N dropped her hands, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe that just happened.”

Steve gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I guess this means no more pancakes in my boxers?”

Y/N snorted, despite herself, stepping into his arms and resting her head against his chest. “Yeah… probably not the best idea.”

Steve chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “On the bright side, we’ve got two weeks free to spend together.”

She looked up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re taking this pretty well, considering you just got benched.”

Steve grinned, his arms tightening around her. “Hey, for you? I’d sit out the whole season.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss her softly. “But I’m ridiculous about you.”

And just like that, the tension melted away, leaving them in the warm, quiet aftermath of what would undoubtedly be a story they’d laugh about for years to come.

my boy Steve deserves more recognition!! So don't forget to leave a like, a reblog and a follow if you want to read more of my works!

[makncheese12]

Top Shelf

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: being the kid of a well-known book store owner was easy, so was running into famous people. But being book smart doesn’t make everyone people smart.

Warnings: my writing, language(bad words😯), my attempt at being funny, mention of gun shots and head shots, mentions of my favorite book(literally love Ruta Sepetys sm omg.

A/N: part 2? I am going to make you all suffer through the most oblivious slow burn. R if going to be so dumb/oblivious it’ll hurt you all🫶🏻

Word count - 3.6k

Credits: @novmoth (my friend from school who feeds into my delusions and gives me more ideas for this story🫶🏻)

(bare with me English is not my first language🥲 I’m getting help from my friend to edit it)

You were born to it.

The books. The films. The music and video games.

It was your life, literally. With your parents being owners of the infamous establishment called ‘top shelf’, you had no choice but to.

And you wouldn’t ever change.

Books upon books, movie after movie, games old and new and music that could last you weeks. Who would want to change such a life?

Your father was the first to start it.

He was poor man in Washington but had just enough money to buy it from the man who owned the small movie shop before he retired. He slowly started added book shelves and video games to the mix. Getting few customers but enough to survive day to day during the time of his early years

Your mother was a wealthy run away. Wanting something different and new in her life when she met your father. The man was playing on his game boy behind the counter before he saw her.

The poor boy and his run away wife, a classic really.

The rest after that is history.

As soon as they found out your mother was pregnant with you, they used the rest of her money they saved and went to New York where they bought the huge abandoned apartment complex.

They broke all the insides down and built what you now know as your second home. Hundreds of video games, films and music in one section and thousands of books in another.

Thus, Top Shelf was born only two weeks after you.

You met many friends there in the comfort section where students and business people worked as you all goofed off.

Your had also met your small friend group during your younger years, the four of you all never letting your father have the peace he wanted and dragging him all over New York.

With the thousands of books and hundreds of video games and films your parents sold, you had money. Lots of it.

But your mother made sure you never let that get the best of you, never. It went against everything she went for when she ran away.

She would make sure you would work for and earn everything you got, always.

She never let you have too much online activity, in case her family found you and made sure you were both street smart and book smart.

Your neighbors made sure you were street smart more than anything but you still gave her credit for trying.

Though, the book store was beautiful in every season. Winter was a favorite and when it was busiest. It was too your favorite.

Your father lighting the public fire place, your mother setting soft seasonal music, hell even the cheesy Christmas cartoons on the TV’s set the mood for the perfect bookstore vibe.

The lights dim just enough to where it almost felt like dark academy yet the plants that grew down the upstairs railing made the entire place feel more alive.

————

“Bullshit!” You yell out as you throw your head back onto the head rest of your chair, groaning loudly as the photo sound of your death snapped in your ears.

“Man, he’s fucking using cheats!” Dru calls out through the mic before his name pops up above to yours in dark red on the screen as you respawn.

“Of course he is, he’s a pussy.” Mj says, as her name, too, pops up on the screen.

“Oh come on, guys!” Lyle says through his staticky mic. “You all just suck.” He laughs

“Now I know your cheating, dude. Your mic is acting up again, just like last time!” Dru says, the sound of his voice booming louder than needed and you roll my eyes.

“DD, just because you like to replay games without using cheats doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Lyle says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s multiplayer, stupid! It’s meant to be fair for everyone!” Dru says making you snort. “Says the guy who chases around little kids and steals their horses making them cry.” Mj says making Dru blow into his mic making loud, unnecessary noises.

“Quit that!” You say taking one head phone off your ear. “Tsk tsk tsk,” Lyle starts. “Such a sore loser.”

“I’ll show you sore loser, get on Elden ring and we’ll test your irritation.” Dru says, mic now muffled by his own spit.

“Your tank build is not enough to stop me, comet azur will always save the day.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“And you call me a try hard, yet you’re the one always using a broken spell.” Dru complains. “Theres nothing I have to try hard at when I can just hold a simple button.” The sound of Dru’s groans become louder as his spit clears out from his Mic. “Same thing!”

You laugh once again before picking up your phone and looking at the time.

“Shit!” Your eyes go wide at the sight, 8:48 AM.

You quickly throw the head set off and push yourself out of the chair, opening your closet grabbing a quick pair of jeans and a hoodie before rushing to put it all on.

Your cat skids across the floor, startled by your sudden movements before a crashing in the your pile of books and out the door.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mumble as you jump up and down to put on your shoes, failing at not falling and race toward the door. “Sorry!” You call to your cat who yells at you next to his food bowl.

You grab your keys and rush out the door before slamming it shut and locking it.

“Ay, y/n!” Your neighbor, Rosa, shouts from beside her door. “Quiet will you! I just put Nona to sleep!” She yells raising her news paper tapping your head with it.

“Sorry! sorry, Señora Rosa.” You whisper yell as you try to push her weaponized hand away. “I’m just a little late.”

“And I just got a moment of peace! Quiet!” She says giving you one last wack making you try and shrink away from her as you rush toward the stairs.

“You got your pepper spray, right?” She calls and you raise your key chain to show her the attached small can. “¡Buena niña!”

You rush down the stairs and push passed the glass door, almost slipping on the ice before running down the street.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket making you quickly take it out.

“Hello?” You ask without knowing who it was.

“Arthur Morgan would be very disappointed at your sudden disappearance from an important mission.” Lyle says before sighing.

“It’s multiplayer, there are no main missions.” You say, trying to avoid the ice on the ground before stopping at the red hand across the street. “Plus, we were in the middle of four way 1v1. He’d be more upset that we were going against each other.”

“Loyalty is everything in such a game,” he says, sarcasm in his voice and you imagine him shaking his head. “Of course he would be upset at my bullet in DD’s head.”

“Why’d you call me exactly?” You ask watching the hand turn into a green man walking before taking off again.

“Well, you just yelled ‘shit!’ Before disappearing on us, had to make sure someone didn’t break in and kill you.” He replies casually as if he knew that weren’t the case. “But after hearing you continue on your ‘shit’ rant and the door slam I figured it was okay, just had to call and make sure, y’know?”

“Ever heard of a text, loser?” You ask, barley missing a man walking and looking down at his phone. “Gross,” he says before making a gagging noise. “why waste such time typing when I can simply just hit one button?”

“You’re so lazy.” You laugh out loud as you run across another street. “Work smarter not harder, Y/N. You should know this with that big brain of yours.”

“What if I want to work both smarter and harder?” You ask, running up to the glass window to see the books lined up. “Well, then your just weird.” You roll your eyes.

“Just kidding. I guess you can do both, I just personally prefer the alternative.” He says as the sound of guns shooting fills the phone. “Yeah, also sorry about leaving.” You say pushing into the store being greeting with the familiar smell of books and the warm smile of my mother.

“I forgot I had to get ready for work.”

“You’re at top shelf?” He ask and you reply with a ‘mhm’. “I might stop by later to say hello actually, I need a new game anyway.” He laughs as the sound of Dru yelling in the back ground becomes more prominent.

“Sounds good, see you loser” You say as you take your sweat shirt off, leaving you in your tank top you hand before leaving. “Later,” you hear him say before hanging up.

“Good morning,” you hear your mother say as you pull the staff sweat shirt over your head and pull up your sleeves. “Mornin’,” you reply before kissing her cheek.

“Wheres dad?” You ask looking around before your eyes setting on the woman stack a pile of books into one pile.

“He’s going to be out of town for a few days,” she says carrying the pile to the check back station. “A vacation, I insisted as I continue your training.” She says making you smile.

“We both know he needs it, he’s getting older.” She says and your smile fades as you nod. “So are you.” You mumble and she, too, nods.

“You know him getting old is different from me getting old.” She states, sighing quietly.

“What’s todays task?” You ask, quickly changing the subject at the sight of her sad frown. She looks at you for a moment before smiling once again.

She moves to storage closet and unlocks it, allowing you to see the boxes upon boxes along with stacks of different other things.

“To be a good store owner, you have to know your customers.” She says returning with a large box that you quickly take from her.

“Just put it on that table — and to know your customers, you must socialize and help them throughout the store.” She finishes as you take the box to the table noticing the label romance written across it.

“That also means having to work while helping the customers, so you’ll be on stock duty as well.” She says with a smile.

Yes.

You mentally say to yourself. Stock duty required work of you finding the places of different books, movies and games which also meant finding new things you didn’t know about before.

“One more thing,” you mother says as she walks behind the counter to finish opening up the store. “No head phones.” Your eyes go wide.

“But ma!” You call out to the lady who switches the sign from closed to open. “What else am I supposed to do when I stock!” You call, holding onto the white cords and swinging them around.

“Help the customers and socialize.” She laughs out making you frown. “I should call CPS.” You mumble carrying the box to the sorted area before hearing the woman’s laugh.

“Sure, call ahead but don’t be disappointed when they decline a twenty year old.”

You roll your eyes before continuing down the aisle.

“And after you sort those, get the others out of the storage closet!” You huff quietly as you glance back with a small playful glare on your face.

“If I wanted to work out, I would have gone to the gym.” You say and she rolls her eyes. “You’ll be just as sore in the morning, trust me.”

————

Hours hand passed, since you last seen the romance box having moved on to the horror section of the films.

You search through their placement areas, looking at all the old cinematic master pieces, the many Dracula films placed neatly next to each other, in order of both year and name.

Horror was one of the favorites when coming here, your father being a collected through his years he had many people couldn’t get their hands on.

Sure you could watch it online now but where’s the fun in that when you have a real copy with the static noises and written voices on screen. Some people still had some class left in them.

You hear a book hit the floor making the library echo as heads turned toward the cause of the sudden interruption of their silence.

“Shit—” You hear someone say quietly, making you roll your eyes as you place the rest of the CD’s in their rightful places before making your way toward the aisle the noise came from.

You subtly make your way toward the aisle while acting like your checking the books before taking a peek around the corner.

You see a rather short girl — shorter than the third shelf — craning her neck to look up at all the books in front of her.

Just to your luck, your mother placed a box for that genre next to the end of the shelf and you picked it up.

You make your way down the aisle and set the box toward the middle before looking up the girl who was already staring, and boy was she something.

Freckles littered across her tan skin, strands of her short hair fell from her half up half down style, her eyes — damn her eyes — they were the prettiest brown you’ve ever seen.

You smile lightly before picking up the first book and reading both the authors name and the title while trying to slow down your racing heart.

Who was this girl? Matter of fact, what was she? She wasn’t a regular, that’s for sure but you always get random people coming in so it didn’t exactly matter.

After putting away a few books, you glance up to see the girl a few feet away and on her tippy toes, reaching for a book on the fifth or sixth shelf.

You snorted quietly catching the girls attention making you quickly look away to keep yourself from laughing.

“You think this is funny?” She asks and you begin shaking in quiet laughter.

After a few moments, you compose yourself and stand shaking your head.

“No, not at all. Would you like some help?” You ask taking step toward her. She narrows her eyes. “Are you making fun of me right now?” She asks, both amusement and annoyance in her voice.

“Why would I do that? It’s poor customer service.” You say with a smile before watching her own smile grow.

“It’s poor customer service to laugh at a customer.” She mumbles before stepping back. “Please.” You walk up and grab the book.

“Look how easy that was.” She says, taking the book you held out for her. “Being six-foot-two does have its perks.” She says looking over the back of the book.

You roll your eyes but your smile only grows. Looking down at the book you nod and raise your eye brows, “that’s a good one, read it a few years back.” You say, making your way back to box of books.

“I’d hope so, for all the work I had to do to try and get it.” She mumbles making you smile and shake your head. “Anything else good?” She asks, looking down to you.

“You’re asking me if there’s anything else good in here when there’s just by the look of it thousands of books here?” You ask, smirking at her when she rubs the back of her neck.

“Yes, there is, I’ve read more than I can count. My recommendation board is up by the front desk if you want to check it out.” You say before placing crave by Tracy Wolff into the slot.

“You must have come here a lot before working then? If you’ve read so many books from here.” She asks, following hot on your trail with the book tucked between her arm. “Oh, for sure,” you say nodding. “The owners and I are real close, we were together a whole nine months before I was born.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the information. “You’re parents own this place?” She asks, gesturing to the entire book store and you nod, smiling.

It felt like you were a teenage boy, flaunting his muscles to a girl he finds attractive.

“Wow,” she says looking around once again. Book still tucked tightly into her arm as she did so. “Just wow. Your parents have taste.”

“More like their people pleasers.” You say shaking your head. The real other reason why horror is so popular in the movie section is because of their request.

Every week they check their request list and buy everything people ask for. New books, new movies, new music and games, there’s always something new. You’re surprised there’s still room, then again the place would be as big you supposed.

“They like having their customers choice their number one priority. It’s good business.” You say looking up to the girl who had a look of wonder in her eyes as she stared down at you but there was also something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.

She stares at you for another moment before speaking again, “do you.. know who I am?” She asks and your furrow your eye brows in question.

“Should I?” You ask tilting your head. She stares for another moment again, eyes scanning your face and it’s features as if searching for something.

Her smile then grows, as she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t, or rather shouldn’t have to. It’s just a surprise.” She says, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You knit your eye brows together in confusion.

She walks out of the aisle and you catch the light smile on her face as she does.

What the hell? You wonder to yourself as you place the last few books away.

You were pretty sure that was the last section, unless your mother put out some more stuff you didn’t notice. You’d just check out the to-do list.

Your mother and father always had one for both you and their own sake. Adding things so no one would forget.

As you made your way to check out, you see the girl walking in the general distraction as well.

“All set?” You ask, placing the box inside the others, moving past the small door attached to the low counter.

“Yep,” she says once again staring at you.

You take the book you got for her earlier along with another you recognize almost immediately. “Between shades of gray?” You ask, looking at her as if she were serious.

“Your description seemed trust worthy enough to make me interested.” You glance over to see your board clearly flipped through before nodding.

You scan both books. “Careful, it’s sad, dark and traumatic. It’s one of my favorites though.” You say looking up at her, she pauses for a moment, staring at you once again and just smiles and shakes her head.

“I think I can deal with a few of those.”

“Bartering or buying?” You ask. “Bartering,” she replies and you nod. “Good, I need to get a review on what you think.” You say with a smirk and you see a glint of something in her eyes.

“Name?” You ask and she looks at you a little confused. “We have to know whose using our books, how else do you think we send emails threatening to charge or get them back?” You snort.

“Oh, your totally right.” she says quietly before taking out her credit card.

“Jenna Ortega..” she says and you nod, typing in the name before reaching for the credit. Her grip on the card tightens at your lack of response.

You pull the card gently but her grip is to hard for you to take.

“Can I… get the card?” You ask, looking around slightly uncomfortably with the stone like stare she was giving you.

“Are you sure you don’t know who I am?” She asks letting go allowing you to swipe the card.

“Again, should I?”

You both stare at each other, both confused and entrapped by the other.

You find is strange how she thinks you know who she is or why you don’t know her.

Maybe she was some big deal somewhere off and you still have yet to hear about her.

Her name did ring a bell but you weren’t sure. Was she a person you knew from your child hood? An old friend trying to reconnect? Maybe some relative on your moms sent by the older ones to investigate if it was really you.

“Miss Ortega?” You’re both broken out of your thoughts as two large men stand behind her. “Time to go.” he says gesturing to a few people who were standing and staring in your general direction.

One grabs the bag off the counter before quickly walking towards the door.

“Looks like I gotta go,” she says, smile now suddenly shy with others watching. “Don’t worry, I’ll return your book Y/N.” She says before walking toward the door, one of the men right behind her.

“Yeah, you bet-“ you pause after the the realization hits you. “Wait, how’d you-?” You begin to ask before watching her gesture to her chest.

You knit your eyebrows together, you look down to see the name tag right under the library symbol.

She was strange.. cute.. but strange

Read next sort here!

A/N : Some parts once again rushed🧍🏽‍♀️This is just an introduction I suppose, the details will get better I tried my hardest🥲

[smoooothoperator]

What Was I Made For?

24: All For Us

childhood enemies, forced proximity, accidental pregnancy, enemies to lovers (👀)

Warnings: fluuuuuff

a/n: New chapter!!! As you canread it, the ending of the story is coming closer...

if you want to play a game and ask things about Dafne

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One month to meet Dorian. One month to finally hold him. One month to show the world the most beautiful baby they could ever see. 

It's been half a year since Charles and I started dating, and even if at the start everything was a rollercoaster, I couldn't be happier with him. Even if he was away for the races, he always called me whenever he wasn’t in the car, doing FaceTime or just talking through the phone, making me feel like I was there with him.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my hand resting on my belly, feeling the steady kicks under my palm. I smiled softly, imagining his tiny feet pressing against me, eager to join the world. My back ached, and my ankles were swollen, but none of that mattered right now. All I could think about was Charles. 

He has been texting me all morning since he left home to go to the hotel close to the track, sending me pictures of everything the fans gave him for us and the baby. And while he was sending texts, I was packing a suitcase for some weeks, getting everything ready and placing the hospital bag we made, just in case Dorian decides to come join us earlier than expected, in the back of the car with the baby seat.

I had been following Charles' races from afar, glued to the TV, my laptop or my phone, cheering him on from the comfort of our home. I hated missing out, but with the doctor advising me to take it easy, I had no choice but to stay at home. Or so I made Charles believe.

Imola was just a few hours away by car, and the triple-header was starting this weekend. I knew how important this triple header was to him, with an Italian race for Ferrari and then, some weeks later, his own home race in Monaco. And even though I told him I wouldn’t be able to make it, I had other plans. There was no way I was going to miss them. Not this time.

“Don’t worry, Dorian. We’re going to surprise papa, hm? You’re going to hear those engines roar again” I smiled, rubbing gently my belly, feeling excited about going back again to the track after some months.

I have been texting Lewis for a while, and thanks to him, I would have a paddock pass without Charles knowing about it. 

I could almost picture Charles' reaction. He’d be stunned, maybe even a little annoyed at first because he was protective because of my pregnancy, but once the shock wore off, I knew he would be happy. Having me there, especially so close to the due date, would mean everything to him.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I glanced over, smiling immediately after reading the contact name.

Charles: Miss you already, love. I just arrived to the hospitality, the fans gave me so many gifts for Dorian ❤️

I smiled, biting my lip. I could practically hear his voice through the text, making me smile and sigh softly. If only he knew what I was up to…

I grabbed the suitcase and the hospital bag, looking one last time at our bedroom, with the crib already ready next to the window, and smiled to myself. Maybe, just maybe, the next time I’ll be in this room, Dorian will be here with us.

After double-checking that I had everything, I carefully lowered myself into the driver’s seat of the car. Getting in and out was no easy task these days, but I managed with a little of patience. I adjusted the seat to make room for my belly and took a deep breath before starting the engine. I could feel the adrenaline rushing through me, the same kind of excitement I used to have before retiring from being a driver.

As I pulled out of the driveway, the familiar hum of the engine calmed me. The drive wasn’t long, but I had to pace myself. I knew Charles’ schedule like the back of my hand, so if everything went according to plan, I would catch him recording some content for the media or even doing interviews.

The road ahead stretched out, and with each kilometer, I felt the anticipation building. Dorian squirmed a little, as if he could feel it too.

“It’s okay, little one” I smiled, rubbing my belly softly and putting the music higher on the radio. “We’re going to see papa soon. He’s going to be so happy to see us”

By the time I reached the outskirts of Imola, the sun was high in the sky, making everything look brighter than before. I followed the signs toward the track, knowing where to go after years of racing, feeling my heart beating faster with every passing minute.

I smiled, driving through the parking lot and stopping the car near the place where the drivers park their own cars. I found Charles’ car easily, knowing that the team gave him the last car Ferrari dropped, looking at it parked in the reserved place with his name on it.

I grabbed my bag, hanging it on my shoulder after getting out of the car, slower than usual. As I walked towards the paddock doors, fans found me and started taking pictures of me, as well as calling me. I smiled politely at them, waving my hand and smiling, letting them take pictures as always.

As I walked through the paddock, I could feel the curious glances around me. It wasn’t like I was trying to not be seen. After all, it’s hard to blend in when you’re nine months pregnant, walking like a penguin. But I didn’t care. The excitement of surprising Charles carried me here, and I won’t let a few stares bother me.

I made my way towards the Ferrari hospitality, my heart racing faster than my feet could keep up. Every step felt like I was getting closer to Charles, and I could already imagine the look on his face when he saw me. He had no idea I was here.

As I turned a corner, walking past the familiar red and white trailers, I looked around, smiling when I started to hear the familiar sound of mechanics getting the cars ready for the weekend. 

It was hard not to feel nostalgic. I had spent so much time in this paddock over the years, racing and competing against the best drivers out there, and now I’m one of the many people that have to stay behind a barrier watching them race.

"We’re almost there" I whispered, smiling down at my belly.

Just as I was about to step into the Ferrari area, I heard a voice call out from behind me, making me smile and turn around slowly.

"Dafne?"

For a second, neither of us moved. He looked like he was trying to process if it was really me standing there, and I could see the mixture of confusion and joy written in face. His hair was a bit messy as if he just rushed out of a meeting. And then, as if it finally clicked, a smile broke out across his face.

"You’re... here" he smiled. His eyes moved between my face and my belly, as if he couldn’t decide what to focus on.

"I’m here" I chuckled softly, biting my lip to keep from laughing at his stunned expression.

"I thought... you said..." he frowned, his hands resting on my belly as if he was afraid to let go. "You told me you weren’t coming"

"Yeah, well…" I smiled softly. "I wanted to surprise you"

Charles blinked a few times, then broke into the biggest smile I have seen in weeks. He pulled me into a gentle hug, careful with my belly, but still holding me tight. We could feel the kicks of our baby, like he wanted to remind us that he came too.

"You’re incredible" he murmured into my hair. "I can’t believe you’re here"

“I missed being here” I whisper against his chest, rubbing his back softly. “And I didn’t want to be alone this last month… So that’s why I came”

“I’m sorry” he sighed, pressing a kiss on my temple. “But what if…”

“I brought the hospital bag too, don’t worry” I smiled. “I have a feeling that baby Dorian will come sooner… So that’s why I’m going to Monaco after Imola”

“Monaco? Are you sure?” he sighed. 

“I am, love” I smiled, kissing his jaw. “Our family is there. My parents, your mother and brothers… I want to have Dorian in a place where I know we won’t be alone in case you are away…”

“Oh, believe me” he sighed, pressing his lips on my forehead. “If you go on labor while I'm away, I'll drop the team just to be next to you”

I chuckled softly and nodded, hugging him tightly. Somehow, it scared me going through labor without him by my side,and even if I could count with our family, I only wanted him with me in the room.

“Then I'll try to keep Dorian with me a little longer until you can be free from work” I joked, chuckling softly.

He laughed softly and grabbed my bag from my shoulder, hanging it on his shoulder and holding my hand while we walked inside the hospitality, being welcomed with wide smiles and hugs from the team crew.

The motorhome felt like a little sanctuary in the chaos of the race week. It was cozy and quiet inside, offering the perfect view of the track from the large windows. I sat on the comfortable sofa in the balcony of the hospitality, with my hand resting on my belly as I watched Charles’s practice session on the TV screen in front of me. The sound of the engines in the track and the people in the paddock filled the space, but my attention was locked on Charles.

I felt Dorian moving around a bit more today, his kicks strong and rhythmic, almost like he could feel the energy around us.

“Your dad is going to do great today, just wait and see" I whispered, rubbing my belly gently as I smiled to myself.

The camera followed Charles around the circuit, his Ferrari a blur of red and black as it darted through the chicanes. He had been in good form all weekend, and I could tell from the smoothness of his driving that he was in his zone. 

The sun was beginning to get higher in the sky, making the paddock look brighter than a few hours ago. I took a deep breath, the familiar scent of rubber and fuel mixing with the fresh air. It was a strange comfort, this chaotic world of racing, a place where I spent most part of my life.

Charles had always been good at keeping his emotions low since the start of the season on the race weekends, but I knew that having me here, especially so close to our due date, meant a lot to him. He wasn’t just racing for himself, he was racing for our future. 

I caught sight of a few fans in the distance, waving Ferrari flags and cheering as the cars zoomed past. It was still surreal to think that soon, Dorian would be part of all of this too.

As the session ended, and I saw the cars retiring to the garages I stood up slowly, my hands pressing into my lower back as I stretched. Dorian gave another strong kick, and I chuckled softly.

“You’re excited too, huh?” I whispered.

A few minutes later, the door of the balcony opened, and Charles walked in, still in his race suit with his face flushed from the adrenaline of the session. His eyes softened the moment he saw me, a smile spreading across his lips.

"Hey, you two" he said, walking over and placing a gentle hand on my belly. "How’s Dorian doing today?"

"Kicking like crazy" I grinned, watching as he rubbed his hand affectionately over my bump. "He’s definitely excited to be here."

"I think he’s going to love race weekends as much as we do" Charles let out a soft laugh, his other hand sliding around my waist to hold me closer.

"You're really strong out there today" I said, resting my head against his shoulder. "The car seemed to be handling well"

“Yeah, it’s feeling good" Charles nodded, his voice steady with that familiar determination. "We’re still making a few mistakes, but I’m feeling confident. I’m glad you’re here to see it"

We stood in comfortable silence for a while, the hum of activity outside a gentle reminder that we were still in the heart of the race weekend. But here, in this moment, it was just the two of us, and our baby growing inside me.

“I can’t wait to show Dorian this world” I whispered, smiling softly. “To bring him to the races, to let him grow in this place…”

“Me neither, Daf” Charles smiled, rubbing my shoulder. “Just thinking about coming back to the hospitality after getting out of the car and knowing that I would hear his giggles… That makes me so incredibly happy”

The atmosphere in the hospitality was charged with excitement and anticipation as Charles prepared for qualifying after having lunch and going to meetings. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the faint hint of burnt rubber wafting through the open windows, making me smile and take deep breaths while rubbing my belly.

“Are you nervous?” I asked, breaking the silence that hung comfortably between us. 

I could see the concentration on his face as he adjusted his race suit, his brow furrowed in determination.

“A little” he admitted, looking  over his shoulder at me. His green eyes softened softly  and I could see a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “But I'm more excited than anything. It feels good out there today”

“You’ve been flying all weekend, Charles. This track is good for the car this season” I said, shifting slightly to get more comfortable on the couch. Dorian seemed to sense the energy too, rolling around in my belly.

I watched him nod and move around the room, his body fluid and confident as he picked up his helmet, running his fingers over the glossy surface.

“You know, it’s just qualifying” I said, shrugging my shoulders.  “No pressure, right? Just go out there, have fun, and do your best”

“I know” he sighed. “Just… I want to do better. McLaren is getting better every race, and we can only watch them go…”

“Good thing I came to be your lucky charm, huh?” I chuckled softly. “Come on, don't worry. It will be okay”

With a final glance in the mirror to check his appearance, he straightened up, the familiar intensity returning to his gaze. He turned around and looked at me, smiling softly. I followed him with my eyes, watching him walk towards the couch a dn stand in front of me, leaning closer to press a soft kiss on my lips.

“I’ll be thinking of you and Dorian the whole time”he whispered against my lips.

“Just be safe and give it your all, okay?” I smiled, feeling a mix of pride and anticipation.

He nodded, giving me one last kiss before helping me to stand up. We walked hand in hand towards the tables where other team members would be watching the qualy and he hugged me one last time before leaving.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too,” I replied, smiling softly. “Good luck, love. Dorian and I will be watching”

The commentators’ voices filled the hospitality as the cars drove out of the pit lane one by one, the camera panning across the vibrant colors of the cars as they prepared to take on the circuit. I watched closely as Charles’s name flashed on the screen, the number 16 Ferrari ready to attack the track.

My heart raced along with the cars as the session began, the roar of the engines filling the air both inside and outside the hospitality, making my own mind think that I was out on the track too. Charles’ first flying lap looked smooth, precise.

“Good, good” I nodded to myself.

Q1 finished, then Q2. And Charles was finally in the Top 10, fighting for the first position. The onboard camera showed his view, going through every corner of the track, pushing the car to its limit.

The session was nearing its end, and the times were coming in fast. Other drivers were getting competitive laps, but Charles was still up there, still fighting for pole position.

When he crossed the finish line on his final lap, the screen lit up with his time, faster than anyone else, making his number clim to the highest position of the graphic.

The crowd roared, and I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. A huge smile spread across my face as I saw his name solidify at the top of the leaderboard.

“Pole!” I exclaimed, laughing softly as Dorian kicked in response. “Your dad did it!”

The cheers from the paddock outside echoed in my ears, and I felt a rush of pride swell in my chest. Charles had done it. He had secured pole position, and I could almost feel his excitement from here.

As the session ended, I stood up slowly, my hand still on my belly, and made my way to the garage. I wanted to be there when he came back, to be with him. The paddock was buzzing with energy as I walked toward the Ferrari garage, my steps slow but steady. A few team members smiled at me as I passed, their faces glowing with excitement.

I reached the garage just as Charles was climbing out of the car, pulling off his helmet. His face was flushed, his hair damp with sweat, but the grin on his face was unmistakable. He turned, scanning the crowd, and when his eyes landed on me, they lit up even more.

“Dafne!” he called out, running to me.

The second he reached me, he wrapped me in a careful but tight hug, mindful of my belly but full of warmth.

“You did it!” I laughed, squeezing him as best I could. “P1!”

“I told you I’d give it everything.” he pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes shining with pride. 

“I knew you would,” I smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. “You were incredible out there, Charles.”

He glanced down at my belly and grinned. He rubbed my belly and kneeled in front of me, pressing a soft kiss on it.

 “And how’s this little guy? Did he enjoy qualifying?” he smiled looking up at me.

“Enjoy? He was kicking the whole time” I chuckled. “He’s definitely proud of you.”

 “We did it, little man” he whispered, his voice soft and full of emotion. “We’re going to win this weekend.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, feeling the love and determination radiating from him. I brushed his hair with my fingers, ignoring how sweaty it was, and then I brushed his beard, cupping his cheek.

“We’ll be cheering you on every step of the way,” I said, my voice just as soft. “You’ve got this.”

He stood back up, his eyes never leaving mine as he leaned in to kiss me gently, a tender kiss that held all the emotions of the day.

“I’m going to make this weekend unforgettable” he whispered, his forehead resting against mine.

And in that moment, standing there together in the heart of the track, I knew that whatever happened next, we were ready for it. This was our moment, our family’s moment, and I couldn’t wait to see how it all goes.

The morning sun was just starting to rise over the Imola circuit as Charles and I arrived at the paddock with our car.. There was this emotion in the air, the excitement of the Tifosi hoping to be the spectators of how the red team wins in their home,  but everything still felt calm. 

Charles was unusually quiet as we walked side by side, his hand resting protectively on the small of my back. I could feel the nervous energy radiating from him. Every driver feels the weight of the moment on the morning of a race, but for Charles, especially today, it seemed heavier. Pole position meant high expectations, and with Imola being a historic track, the pressure was palpable.

"How are you feeling?" I asked softly, glancing up at him.

"Nervous" he admitted, his voice a little more rough than usual. "It’s strange. I’ve done this so many times before, but today feels different. Everyone is expecting me to win, and… What if I mess up?"

I stopped walking for a moment, holding his hand to make him stop too. The noise in the paddock continued around us, but right then, all I cared about was calming him.

"Charles, look at me" I sighed, trying to sound calm. When his eyes met mine, I could see the storm of doubt there, something I hadn’t seen in him in a long time. "You’ve worked so hard for this. You’ve been driving brilliantly all weekend, and no one deserves this win more than you. You've faced pressure before, and you come out stronger every time. You need to trust yourself today"

"I just don’t want to let anyone down" he sighed, looking around us.

"You won’t" I said, stepping closer to him. "And even if things don’t go perfectly, I’ll still be proud of you. Dorian will be proud of you”

His features softened, and I saw the tension start to disappear from his face. He gave me a small smile, the kind that barely lifted the corners of his mouth but said everything. Taking a step closer to me, he pressed his lips on my forehead, taking a deep breath.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know that?" he whispered softly.

"Lucky for you, you don’t have to find out" I chuckled, cupping his cheek with my hand.

We made our way to the hospitality and he quickly mentally prepared himself for the upcoming race, attending the meetings and then going with his personal trainer to get ready.

While he was getting ready, I was working on my laptop, getting everything ready before the race starts. When I saw Charles walking out of his room with the suit hanging over his hips, I closed the laptop and looked up at him, smiling.

"Hey," I smiled softly, holding his hand. He looked down at me, and I saw the hint of nerves in his eyes again. "You’re ready for this, Charles."

"Yeah… I just need to stay focused. Stick to the plan and pray that Ferrari doesn’t fuck up the race…" he sighed, shaking his head.

"You will do an amazing performance" I reassured him. "You’ve worked hard for this. And no matter what happens out there, we’re all proud of you, me, the team, and Dorian too. He’s probably kicking in excitement right now" I added with a small smile, placing a hand on my belly.

"I’m glad you’re here" he whispered, kneeling in front of me,pressing his forehead against mine for a brief moment. "It means everything."

"Go out there and show them what you’ve got" I whispered back. "This is your race."

The moments before the race always felt stressful, with too many things to do and many things in the head. While the drivers have to stand for the anthem, their minds are full of information and what the have to do. Everytime I had to do that, I tried to stay silent and not talk with anyone else except my team, only to confirm things I already knew.

I found my place in the Ferrari hospitality, sitting on a couch with a direct view of the track from the screen in front of me. My heart raced alongside Charles’ car as the formation lap began. His car, gleaming red under the sun, was positioned at the front, pole position. It was the best place to be, but also the one that gave more pressure.

The lights went out, and the race began.

For the next hour and a half, I was glued to the screen, barely paying attention to my surroundings as I watched Charles fight for every second, every corner. It was a tough race, with both McLaren right on his back, pushing him at every turn, but Charles held his position. His driving was precise, his strategies perfect. He defended when he needed to, attacked when he had the chance, all while managing his tires and keeping his focus razor-sharp.

With every lap, the tension grew. Charles was in the lead, but only by a small margin. One mistake, and it could all slip away.

"Come on, Charles" I whispered, gripping the edge of my seat as Dorian kicked hard beneath my hand, as if sensing the urgency. My heart was pounding as the laps ticked down.

And then, the final lap. Charles was still in the lead, butOscar was right behind him. The gap was getting smaller with every corner, but Charles was holding his position, defending every corner and pushing in every straight.

Then the checkered flag came into view.

I held my breath as Charles crossed the line. 

First.

The Ferrari hospitality broke the silence with screams and clapping, the sound filling the air as everyone celebrated. I felt a wave of emotion wash over me, relief, pride, joy, all of it blending together as tears welled up in my eyes. He’d done it. Charles had won.

I stood up slowly, clapping and cheering as the team around me celebrated, their voices filling the hospitality with shouts of joy and disbelief. The camera zoomed in on Charles as he slowed down on his cool down lap, the team radio crackling through the speakers as his engineer congratulated him. I could hear Charles’ breathless laughter through the radio, and it made my heart swell.

I made my way out of the hospitality and immediately walked through the garage towards the pitlane, trying to make space for myself between all his mechanics.

“Dafne, come here” Fred smiled, holding my hand and helping me walk to the front of the crowd, standing right behind the barriers.

As he pulled into the pit lane and climbed out of the car, I started clapping with tears running down my cheeks, smiling when I saw him jump out of the car and walk towards his team. Then, when he pulled away from them and walked towards me, he took off his helmet, smiling widely at me.

"You did it” I smiled,  my voice trembling with excitement as I wrapped my arms around him.

"We did it" he said, grinning ear to ear, his breath still coming in short bursts. He held me tightly, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I couldn’t have done it without you."

"You were amazing out there" I whispered, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "I’m so proud of you."

"Your dad's bringing home the trophy "his smile softened, and he placed a hand on my belly. In that moment I felt all the cameras on us, taking the perfect picture of us.

"He’s definitely excited," I laughed, resting my hand over Charles when I started to feel the hard kicks. "We both are."

As the celebrations continued around us, I leaned into him, soaking in the moment. After all the hard work, all the pressure and nerves, he had done it. Charles was a winner today, and we were here, together, to celebrate it.

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[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x oc x USWNT!reader

part one of five

summary: lena knows she gets what she wants

warnings: cheating, angst, 18+ (smut? not too detailed and mostly suggestive)

oc description here

you and your girlfriend had always been complicated—never simple, never easy. 

it started back in 2021 when you and sloan played at psg. the chemistry on the field between you two was undeniable, but off the field, it was a different story. 

the beginning wasn’t so bad, though. she caught feelings for you shortly after she went through a breakup, but you didn’t think much of it. you were happy that someone was interested in you, someone as gorgeous as sloan. 

if you were to tell anyone about it now, you'd say it wasn’t the worst relationship, but it definitely wasn’t the best either.

sloan was magnetic, and in those early days, you were drawn to her like everyone else was drawn to her. the older woman was a fierce defender in paris, while you were a threatening midfielder that scared the defenders on the opposite team. 

the woman would pull you in, wrap you up in her intensity, and you’d get lost in the way she’d look at you, the way she’d run up to you if you took a hit on the pitch– it was like you were her whole world. and for a while, it felt like you were.

savannah was always there, in the background, but you didn’t mind. you played with both of them on the united states national team, and savannah never seemed like a threat.

she was just part of the past with sloan—something you didn't think twice about. you had bigger things to worry about, like football, your career. you weren’t the type to get jealous over old exs that your girlfriend had.

things shifted in 2022 when you left for bayern munich, after you spent three seasons with PSG. 

the move was huge for you. it was a chance to grow, to focus on your game in another league, and push yourself to new heights. 

sloan went back to the states, joining portland thorns. her contract didn’t expire with PSG but she didn’t want to stay if you weren’t there.

the long distance was rough, but you both promised to make it work. you'd have late-night calls, texting between training sessions, and sending each other pictures of your day, trying to stay connected despite the time zone difference.

but then, overtime, you started noticing things. 

small, subtle shifts. the first time sloan told you that her and savannah texting again. at first, you were alarmed until sloan told you that savannah, who played for louisville, was going to go up against the thorns in the NWSL that week. 

you told yourself it was nothing. they’d known each other forever; of course, they'd stay in touch. your mind brushed it off, telling yourself that your trust in sloan was stronger than whatever history she had with savannah.

but it didn’t take long for sophia, your friend on the national team who played at the same club as sloan, to notice. 

during one of your national team camps, the ones against china in florida, she pulled you aside, a concerned look on her face.

“have you talked to sloan recently?” she asked, her tone light but her eyes searching.

“yeah, of course,” you replied, a little confused by her question.

“why?”

sloan was still recovering from an ACL injury, so her club and national team agreed to have the 26 year old play for only portland games for now. she wasn’t called up for the national team so you couldn’t see her this time in the states.

sophia sighs in hesitation,

“i don’t want to stir anything up, but sloan was showing me some tiktok on her phone unaware that um...well,, i saw some messages. between her and savannah. they seemed kinda... i don’t know, close?”

you felt your stomach drop, but you forced a laugh. 

“it’s nothing. they’re just friends.” you convinced yourself. 

“just be careful, okay?” sophia didn’t look convinced. 

you nodded, but that seed of doubt had already been planted. 

later that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. the way sloan’s messages had become more distant, the way she’d brush off your questions with a quick “i’m just busy babe” or “practice has been rough.” you tried to push it down, telling yourself it was all in your head.

until one day, you couldn’t anymore.

a few weeks later, you were scrolling through your phone after a long training session in germany when you saw it. videos. 

they were everywhere—sloan and savannah, out at some club in portland, laughing, dancing, and way too close for comfort. the headlines were brutal, and your stomach twisted into knots as you scrolled through the comments, people speculating about what was going on between them.

you couldn’t breathe.

immediately, you dialed sloan’s number, your fingers shaking as you waited for her to pick up.

you had to run into your living room, since lea and georgia were staying over your house and were sleeping in the guest room beside your bedroom. there was no way that you would wake them up, even in this condition.

“hey, babe,” she answered casually, as if nothing had happened.

“what the FUCK, sloan?” your voice cracked, the anger and hurt pouring out all at once. 

there was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make you feel even worse.

“it’s not what it looks like,” she finally said, her voice too calm, too rehearsed.

“it sure as hell doesn’t look good,” you shot back. 

“you’re out partying with savannah? after you told me there was nothing going on?”

sloan sighed. 

“i told you, it’s nothing. we just went out for drinks with our teams. it’s not a big deal.”

“not a big deal?” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. 

“sloan, everyone’s talking about it. you’re all over the news. do you even realize how this makes me look? do you know how this makes YOU look?”

you hated how much you still cared about her and her image. of course everyone on the internet was dragging sloan’s name through the filth for your defense. 

“you’re overreacting. savannah’s just a friend who happens to be my ex too. you need to stop letting other people get into your head.” sloan said, annoyed. 

but you couldn’t calm down. how could you? not when the entire world had just seen your girlfriend getting close with her ex like it was nothing. 

your heart ached, torn between the love you still had for sloan and the anger bubbling inside you.

“i can’t believe you,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. 

“i trusted you!”

“and i haven’t done anything to break that trust,” sloan shot back, her voice harder now. 

“look, if you don’t trust me, that’s on you. i can’t control how people perceive things.”

you hung up the phone without another word, your chest heavy, the pain sinking deeper with every passing second.

as you collapsed onto the ground, you felt a pair of arms catch you. the vanilla scent of the person’s chest told you that it was lea schuller hugging you as you cried. 

weeks afterwards– you threw yourself into training, trying to ignore the hurt, the betrayal. but it lingered, gnawing at you, distracting you during every practice, every match. no matter how hard you tried to focus, your mind kept wandering back to sloan, to those videos, to the lies.

you couldn’t go to the states to confront her, and that only made it worse. you were stuck, miles away, helpless.

many months later, it's July 1st 2024. despite everything—the distance, the arguments, the emotional drain—you and sloan were still together. 

maybe it was the comfort of it all, the familiarity. you’d been with her for so long that the thought of letting go felt impossible. breaking up seemed like more effort than just sticking it out. 

even if things weren’t great, they weren’t unbearable. or at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

sloan wasn’t seen with her ex again. in fact, she never mentioned savannah again, and you didn’t ask. but the tension hung between you like a fog, thick and ever-present. every time you checked social media, every time her name came up in conversation, your stomach would knot up, the unease always lingering. but nothing ever changed.

after each conversation with sloan, you felt empty. like a weight had been lifted, but at the same time, it left a hollow space inside you. the next few days passed in a blur. 

you threw yourself into training, desperate to block out the pain, but even football wasn’t the escape it usually was.

that’s when lena oberdorf started showing up in your life. she’d recently moved to bayern from wolfsburg, and though you’d played against her plenty of times, you never really knew her well. she was fierce on the pitch, strong and confident. 

in fact, you had a perception of her since you fell victim to her side tackles on many, many occasions. but you started to notice lena’s behavior around you after training, she was different—softer, a little shy even.

it started with small things. lena would linger after practice, making conversation, asking how you were doing. 

at first, you chalked it up to her being friendly, trying to settle into her new team and make friends outside of the ones she knew from the national team.

a week later, before the national break that will lead into the olympics– training was going well. your focus was locked in on the drills as the team worked through possession exercises. 

everything felt sharp, crisp. your legs were taking you towards the goal until georgia came in hard, a tackle from the side catching your leg at an awkward angle. you hit the ground hard, a sharp pain shooting through your ankle.

“y/n!” you heard georgia’s voice above the ringing in your ears as she stands up from the ground. 

“shit shit shit!!! i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

before she could finish, lena was already by your side, practically sprinting over from the other side of the field. 

she dropped to her knees next to you, her hands immediately on your shoulders.

“are you okay? where does it hurt?” lena’s voice was frantic, her eyes wide with concern as she looked you over, clearly scanning for any sign of serious injury.

“i’m fine, lena,” you muttered, trying to sit up. 

“just... give me a sec.” the pain wasn’t as bad as you first thought. it was more of a shock than anything.

lena wasn’t having it. 

“you don’t look fine,” she insisted, gently pushing you back down as you tried to get up.

“you should stay down for a bit. what if it’s worse than you think?”

georgia hovered nearby, an apologetic look on her face. “i didn’t mean to go in that hard. really, i’m sorry, y/n.”

“what the hell, georgia? you didn’t have to go in on her like that—it’s training, not a match!” lena shot her a glare, her protective streak kicking in immediately.

“i know, i know,” georgia said, holding up her hands in surrender. 

“i was just going for the ball, i didn’t mean to hurt her.”

you could see the tension building between the two of them, 

lena getting more worked up than necessary. it wasn’t the first time lena had gotten overprotective over you, but this was definitely one of the more intense moments. you placed a hand on her arm, trying to calm her down.

“lena, seriously, i’m fine. it’s not a big deal.”

but she wasn’t having it. “no, it is a big deal. she should’ve been more careful.”

georgia rolled her eyes but kept her distance, clearly not wanting to escalate things. the rest of the team had started to gather around, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“she’s tough, lena,” georgia said with a small smile, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“she’s not made of glass.” you wanted to giggle after georgia said that, but you didn’t want to piss off a protective lena. 

“maybe, but that doesn’t mean you can just throw her to the ground,” lena snapped back, still kneeling beside you, her hands hovering protectively around you like she was scared you might fall apart any second.

"you're one to talk about putting people on the ground!" georgia says before laughing at lena's smirk, a smirk she tried to hide knowing that georgia is right.

the team, noticing the bickering, started exchanging looks. 

a few stifled laughs could be heard, and you knew exactly what was coming.

“uh, lena?” tuva called out from behind you, a teasing grin on her face. “y/n is okay.”

tuva pulls lena, gently, away from you as you stand up. your ankle is sore but not painful. you were okay.

“you do realize y/n’s taken, right?” lea whispered to lena, but you still heard it.

you groaned inwardly, knowing exactly where this was headed.

“yeah, lena, i don’t think her girlfriend would be too happy about all this... care you’re giving y/n,” giulia added, her voice dripping with amusement.

lena flushed, her cheeks turning a shade of red you hadn’t seen before. she quickly stood up, brushing off her shorts, though she still hovered close to you, as if she wasn’t quite ready to leave your side.

“i’m just making sure she’s okay,” lena muttered, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

you couldn’t help but laugh a little despite the situation. “lena, seriously, i’m fine. you don’t need to go full paramedic on me. besides guys, you don’t have to mention her while we are here”

“oh!” sydney says, laughing. 

the teasing continued, the team now fully enjoying the spectacle. 

“she’s going full-on protective mode, isn’t she?” pernille chuckled, giving lena a nudge. 

“you’ve got it bad, oberdorf.” madga joins. 

“it’s just concern,” lena muttered, clearly embarrassed now, trying to avoid the teasing looks being thrown her way.

you finally managed to walk, rolling your ankle a bit to check for any real damage. again, it was sore, but nothing too serious. you were fine—like you’d been saying all along. 

“see? i told you. i’m okay.”

“well, that’s a relief,” lena mumbled, though the look of worry in her eyes hadn’t completely disappeared. she stood a little closer than necessary, and the team noticed.

they noticed how you let her stay close to you too.

“yeah, ‘relief,’” georgia echoed, shaking her head in amusement. 

“seriously though, y/n’s fine. no need to be so protective, lena—- i’m sorry y/n.”

the teasing continued as the team dispersed, but lena stayed near you, still looking a little flustered. 

“i just didn’t want her to be hurt,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

you gave her a soft smile, appreciating her concern, even if it was a little overboard. 

“i know. but it’s okay. i’m tougher than i look.”

lena saw lea’s smile turn into a quick frown at that, she makes a mental note to question her best friend about that later. 

after that morning in training, you began to notice the way lena looked at you. there was something more in her eyes, something you hadn’t picked up on before.

the next day, after a tough session, you were sitting on the sidelines, catching your breath, when lena plopped down beside you.

“you okay?” she asked, her voice gentle, her eyes scanning your face.

you nodded, forcing a smile. “yeah, just tired.”

but lena wasn’t convinced. “i’ve noticed you’ve been... off lately. is it sloan?”

lena asked lea why you seemed off. lea told her the backstory about your relationship with the portland thorn’s defender. she did her own research afterwards, realizing how bad it really was.

the mention of sloan’s name made your stomach twist. you didn’t want to talk about her, not now, not ever. 

“it’s complicated.”

lena hesitated for a moment, then quietly said, 

“you don’t deserve what she is putting you through, y/n. you deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

you glanced at her, surprised by the intensity in her words. there was something in the way she said it, the quiet conviction, that made you pause.

“it’s not that simple,” you mumbled, looking down at the ground.

“we’ve been together for so long, and— i don’t know.”

“maybe that’s the problem,” lena said, her voice soft but firm. 

“maybe you’ve been holding on to something that’s already gone.”

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew she was right. sloan wasn’t fighting for you anymore, and maybe she never had.

lena stayed by your side for the rest of the day, offering silent support. 

and as the days went on, her presence became something you looked forward to—her quiet smiles, her easy laughter, the way she’d stick around just to make sure you were okay.

it wasn’t long before you started noticing the little things she did for you. bringing you coffee before training, giving you rides home, offering to help with your recovery sessions after each training. 

it was subtle, but there was a certain care in everything she did, something you hadn’t felt from sloan in a long time.

one afternoon, the last training before the national break for the olympics, lena comes up to you after the showers. 

“hey, you want to grab dinner?” she asked casually, but there was something in her tone that made your heart race a little faster.

“uh, yeah, sure,” you replied, caught off guard.

you ended up at a quiet restaurant, tucked away from the usual chaos. 

over dinner, lena was different. more open, more confident. she asked about your life, your interests outside of football, and for the first time in a while, you found yourself genuinely enjoying someone’s company.

halfway through the meal, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes locking onto yours. 

“y/n, can i be honest with you?”

your heart skipped a beat. “of course.”

“I've been attracted to you for a long time,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. 

“since before you moved to bayern. but i didn’t want to say anything because... well, i knew you were with sloan.”

you blinked, taken aback by her confession. “you... have?”

she nodded, her gaze unwavering. “yeah. but i’ve been watching how things have been going with you two, and... i just want you to know that you deserve someone who’s going to treat you better. someone who has respect for you.”

you stared at her, not sure how to respond. it wasn’t that you hadn’t noticed lena’s growing presence in your life, but hearing her say it out loud, admitting her feelings so openly, was something you hadn’t expected.

“lena, i...” you started, but the words got stuck in your throat. you didn’t know what to say. part of you was still reeling from sloan, from the hurt and confusion that came with it. 

but another part of you—a part you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge—felt something for lena too. something more.

she must’ve sensed your hesitation because she quickly added, “i’m not trying to pressure you or anything. i just wanted you to know how i feel. whatever happens, i’m here for you liebe. no matter what.”

her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a glimmer of hope. maybe lena was right. maybe you did deserve more.

as the night went on, you found yourself relaxing in her presence, the tension from your relationship with sloan slowly easing away. 

it was different with lena—easier, lighter. and when she walked you back to your apartment later that night, there was a moment where she hesitated, standing on the doorstep, her eyes flicking to your lips.

you could’ve kissed her. part of you wanted to. 

“thanks for tonight,” you whispered, your voice soft.

lena smiled, her expression gentle. “anytime, y/n. i’m always here for you.”

something in the air had shifted after she said that, leaving only the quiet between you two. 

lena was standing just a little too close, her gaze a little too intense, and you could feel the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the space between you.

her eyes flickered down to your lips again, and for a moment, she seemed to freeze. your heart pounded in your chest as the silence stretched on, each second amplifying the tension between you both. 

you couldn’t tear your gaze away from her, drawn in by the way she was looking at you, the unspoken desire clear in her eyes.

the way she cares for you, the way you’ve been burying your attraction for her. It was too much. you wanted her.

your mind was racing—everything with sloan, the mess of your relationship, how complicated it all was. 

but in that moment, none of it mattered. not with lena looking at you like that.

you made the first move, your body acting on instinct before your brain could catch up. 

leaning in slowly, tentatively, you closed the gap between you, your lips barely brushing hers at first. 

you paused, just for a second, giving her the chance to pull away if she wanted to. but she didn’t.

the second lena kissed you back, everything else melted away. her lips met yours with a sudden intensity, all the built-up tension finally spilling over. 

her hands were on you in an instant, one sliding to the back of your neck, the other finding your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

it wasn’t gentle—not by any means. there was an urgency in the way she kissed you, and the way you kissed her. she’d been holding back for far too long, and now that the floodgates were open, there was no going back. 

you responded in kind, your hands gripping the front of her hoodie, pulling her even closer as you kissed her harder, your body pressing against hers.

lena’s hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, her fingers warm against your skin as they traced the curve of your waist, making you shiver. 

the feeling of her touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, your heart racing even faster. your lips moved against hers in sync, the kiss growing more heated by the second, both of you caught up in the intensity of the moment.

you broke apart for a brief second, both of you gasping for air, but the space between you barely lasted a heartbeat before lena’s lips were on yours again, even more desperate than before. her body pressed into yours, pushing you gently against the door, and you welcomed the pressure, your hands finding their way into her hair, tugging just enough to earn a quiet groan from her.

“lena,” you breathed against her lips, not even sure what you were trying to say, if anything at all. her name came out like a plea, like you were drowning in her and needed more, but didn’t know how to ask for it.

“y/n,” she murmured back, her voice low and husky, her breath hot against your skin as she kissed along your jaw, trailing down to your neck. 

the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your knees going weak as you clung to her, desperate to stay grounded in the overwhelming rush of feelings.

her hand gripped your waist tighter, holding you against her as her lips moved across your skin, finding every sensitive spot that made you gasp, your fingers tightening in her hair as you struggled to keep up with the intensity of it all.

you weren’t thinking about sloan anymore, or the complications that would come from this. all that mattered was the way lena was making you feel—the way her lips felt on yours, the way her touch set your skin on fire.

and when lena pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark and filled with something raw, something intense, you knew there was no going back. 

you reached your left hand behind your body, keeping your right on lena’s waist, as you unlocked the door. 

pulling the taller woman inside, you didn’t think twice before taking her into your bedroom.

the sex was amazing. its been nearly 18 months since you last tine you’ve did anything, thanks to your long distance relationship.

the girl back in portland didn’t come across your mind once. just the moment between you, the girl who's sleeping in your arms, and the fact that you’ll have a flight back to the states for national duty in the morning. 

part two here

[stellewriites]

Part Two

Summary: When John gets an unexpected invite to his ex-wife’s wedding, he scrambles to find a suitable date to take with him to ward off old ghosts from his past.

Notes: trans John, fat reader, subtle transphobia from minor characters

John was sat in his flat watching a Match of the Day rerun for a football game he’d missed while away when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

His head swivelled over to it to see if it buzzed again, determining it unimportant enough to ignore for the time being when it stayed silent. Kate always called, so it wasn’t work and anyone else that was texting him after 9pm could wait.

It buzzed a second time, then a third and a fourth in quick succession and he felt curiosity twinge at the base of his skull. He pushed himself up, ignoring when one of his knees popped, and grabbed his phone.

Your name flashed up on the screen and he opened the chat without hesitation.

>> the photos from today, don’t forget to swap them out :)

He flicked through the photos you’d sent before picking one at random to save.

John sat back on his couch and agonised over swapping his lock screen.

It was currently an old photo of Charlotte from their honeymoon, and it had stayed that way this entire time in spite of the divorce. He had kept her there even when he’d removed her photos from his desk and was unable to put any up in his new flat. His little secret. Though he knew Kate had seen it despite his best efforts to leave his civilian phone at his flat or turned off during his office hours.

But now…

He felt almost queasy as he selected the new photo. It felt like the first of many final nails in the relationship’s coffin that John would have to deal with over the next month in the lead up to Charlotte’s big day.

It felt like he was mourning a relationship already six years dead.

---

John adapted quickly to seeing your face on his phone screen at the end of the day over the next two weeks, even if he did miss seeing Charlotte’s cheery smile, and found it just as easy to accept seeing your name pop up more and more frequently when you messaged with a new question you’d thought of regarding the wedding or your fake relationship.

It was easy to talk to you, he found. Easy to let his guard down just a tinge and to try and bury the hurt he felt.

>> what’s a childhood story you’d have told me about a couple months in?

<< I fell out of a tree when I was 12, was meant to be grounded at the time so I had to walk home with broken ribs and a scraped up arm and leg. Tried to pretend nothing had happened when my mum got back from work, but it didn’t fool her.

>> i broke my arm climbing a tree too, maybe one of our dates should’ve been at a forest climbing adventure place lol

<< You wouldn’t have wanted to be wined and dined?

>> sure but it can get a little boring

>> you wouldn’t have wanted to hypothetically stare at my arse cinched in climbing gear?

>> were there food options for the wedding? like on planes? i’m not a veggie so you dodged a bullet if you chose a main with meat but i do love pasta if we’re able to swap last minute

<< Everyone loves pasta.

<< And no, think it’s an open buffet.

>> i’ll bring a doggy bag for snacks on the way home then

>> waste not, want not

<< Say that in front of my dad and he might just add you to his will.

>> this is the dress I have in mind, what do you think?

<< Good choice.

>> glowing praise, john, i’ll take that as it won’t cause a scandal among the locals

<< Don’t think you’ll be the one causing a scandal, Sunshine.

It was in a rare occasion he’d texted you first that you arranged to meet up a second time. He’d asked about the plans you’d mentioned a few days back and was currently waiting for a reply while he tried to slog through his own work.

>> was super excited for the play today but I think I might have to cancel my tickets, my friend was driving us there but her kid has gotten sick so she can’t go now :/

<< Where were you going?

>> it’s at a park on the other side of the city with the outdoor stage, i could grab a couple of buses but i don’t know if i’d make it in time

John put down the dry sandwich he was eating and looked at the meeting reports he’d been ignoring for the last ten minutes while texting you.

<< I’ll come pick you up.

>> really??

<< Sure. Send me your address and I’ll be there soon, Sunshine.

John had barely parked up outside your house before you were opening the door and giving him an excited smile and wave.

“I love stuff like this anyway, but this community group have put on some amazing portrayals of Shakespeare’s plays over the years despite their low budget and they make it so accessible with cheap tickets and the outdoor venue. It’s cut down so the teens performing have a better chance at remembering their lines, but it’s always one hell of a forty-five minute show. I think it’s Othello this time, but honestly I’d watch anything,” you rambled as you buckled your seatbelt. “It’s always good to support local art.”

“So we’re seeing Shakespeare?” John confirmed.

“It’s at the open air theatre inside the park.”

“Been a while since I went to the theatre, longer than that since I’ve been in a park.”

“What do you do in your off time?” You asked with a snort.

“Don’t get much off time,” John said easily, unbothered. It was him after all that had decided work would become his priority.

“Well then I’m glad we’re getting to see this together,” you said. “I’ve had a pretty long week too.”

“Hm?”

At his inquisitive hum you fell into complaining about your managers and the long, tiring shifts you pulled.

It didn’t take you long in the car to get to the park however and you were soon jumping out. You gaped a little when John got out and joined you at the front of the car.

“Holy hell you’re tall, shit a brick,” you said, staring. You’d noticed he was broad at the café and he seemed to fill the cab of his pick-up, but he’d been slumped and seated both times so you’d assumed he was maybe creeping just below 6’ and the rest was his attitude that made him seem all encompassing. Looking at him stood up to his full height now was something else, even as he tucked his chin down and slumped his shoulders to speak with you. “I think we’ll have to sit at the back for this or someone might complain.”

John rolled his eyes but you saw the hint of a smile play at his lips as he agreed.

You led him eagerly to the crowd you could see gathering at the entrance of the outdoor stage; the front four rows of the small open air auditorium had been unfolded for the event, suggesting the size of the crowd expected. You both elected to take a seat on the back row as others started to head to the front, but he nudged you fondly when he saw you shift excitedly waiting for it to start.

John pulled out his phone when he felt it buzz in his pocket, but put it back when he saw it was just a reminder to sort out his tux for the wedding.

“Cute pic,” you said with a sly smile when you caught his lock screen. “We should take another, might be more convincing if we have more than one photo of us doing stuff together, right?”

John leant into your side and hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, stiff where it draped over the back of your seat, for the photo.

You were no better, your smile suddenly tight at the corners as you took a quick snap. You held your breath until he moved back, his aftershave surprisingly enticing and the warmth and weight of his arm too inviting.

It wouldn’t do for you to become attracted to John, not that it was something you could control, you knew. But maybe if you just wished it hard enough it wouldn’t make the weekend away with him more difficult than it had to be; falling for a man still blatantly in love with his ex never ended well for anyone.

You smiled a little weakly at him when nudged you again, nodding at the community group making their way onto the stage in front of the clapping crowd.

Maybe attraction would be fine you decided, already knowing how impulsively forgetful and weak-willed you got when your vibrator was between your legs - you could already imagine his name slipping through loose lips, and you couldn’t blame yourself for it as you sneakily took in his side profile - just as long as there were no real feelings from your side.

---

You’d graduated from texting to calling when John mentioned one night that he found it hard to multitask while at work. You’d offered to leave him alone and talk to him once he was done later but he’d been quick to interrupt, said instead that although he couldn’t text and write at the same time, he’d be fine talking and writing.

It’s how he found himself sat at his desk with his phone propped next to him on speaker, listening to you complain about the shitty restaurants near your work.

“I need to get back into meal prepping, or at least start buying something nicer pre-made to bring for lunch. If I have to eat another Greggs meal deal I think I’ll throw up, John,” you bemoaned.

“There’s a new place just opened up ‘round the corner to you, you know?” He said, checking over his team’s reports before signing them off. At your interested hum he continued. “Greek place I think. The sergeants went the other day, said it was a good menu and they’re usually quite picky about where they spend their free time together.”

“That sounds perfect, I’ll meet you there in twenty?” You asked rhetorically, already gathering your stuff to take your lunch break. “I can order for us both in case it takes you longer so it’ll be served by time you arrive. See you in a bit, bye!” You didn’t wait for him to confirm or reply in any capacity, too excited for a delicious lunch.

John stared down at his phone where the screen fell black through lack of use at the ended call. He took a moment to recount the conversation and where he’d gotten mixed up before reluctantly dropping his pen and grabbing his coat and keys.

He stopped by Simon’s office on his way out.

“I’m heading out for a quick lunch, won’t be back in time for that meeting with Laswell after all so you’ll need to take notes.” He waited for Simon’s nod before knocking once on the doorframe in thanks and leaving.

Sure he could’ve just sent you a quick text to correct you, or rang you back to explain it was just a recommendation and he didn’t have the time to join you.

But he didn’t want to. He wanted to go eat Greek food with you until you were humming happily and rubbing your soft stomach, comfortably full on more than a lukewarm pasty and sad looking iced donut. He wanted to hear about your day at work so far and what you’d been up to with your friends on Saturday evening when your replies had slowed down.

He wanted.

It had been a long time since John had felt that way. Given most of the people he’d consider friends were people he worked with and kept their personal lives close to their chests, it wasn’t often he wanted to do much more than spend a couple hours in a pub after a rough mission with them.

You were quickly solidifying yourself a space in John’s life as a friend, whether you knew it or not. Whether you liked it or not. And as a result, he didn’t want to leave you to eat on your own knowing you to be a social butterfly, even after such a short time. John was known to be protective - some had said possessive - of those he considered his. And being his friend meant that you would given the same effort of care and consideration that he gave his team, it just needed to be applied differently.

It wouldn’t be through proud shoulder pats after a mission well-done or through unshakeable confidence and trust when he put his life on the line stood side-by-side with the 141.

No, it would be pulling up to hole in the wall restaurants last minute so that you could spend your lunch a little happier than you were when you were sat at your desk.

He found you sat at the back table, the seat facing the front windows and door left free for him to take with silent appreciation.

The food was as good as Gaz and Soap had promised it would be and the sight of you scarfing down baklava before you had to head back to work had him grinning into his glass.

“Christ, I might have to get a to-go box of this for tonight,” you groaned lowly.

“Big plans?” John asked, clearing his throat.

“Just some DIY I’ve been putting off around the house, figure if I entice myself with a treat for after it’s done I’ll be more likely to actually do it.” You go to take your last bite before pausing and pointing at John. “And before you say it, I realise it sounds like how you train a puppy.”

John snorted, but a frown pulled low on his brow. “What needs fixing?”

“My front door is scraping low when I open it, hinges are loose I think. Nothing major but I’d rather not fuck it up, you know? But if I leave it any longer then I’ll need to pay someone to deal with some real damage,” you sighed. “So I’ve borrowed my neighbour’s drill.”

“I’ll do it for ya,” John offered out of nowhere.

“What? No, you don’t have to, you’re busy,” you declined.

“It’s fine, I’ll pop by later tonight. Just let me know when you’re home and I’ll swing by and sort it.”

“I, uh, ok. Sure, thanks, John. I appreciate it,” you said with a grateful, if not bemused, smile.

---

As soon as you opened the door that evening, John noticed how the bottom caught.

“Hi, do you want a drink? A tea?” You offered as you let him in.

“I’d love one, thanks, Sunshine.” He stepped inside and placed his drill case by the doorframe.

“Oh, you brought your own drill? You didn’t have to go home for it, did you?” You fretted as you headed towards the kitchen. “Did I not mention I’d borrowed my neighbour’s?”

“You did. But this was in the back of the truck from Simon borrowing it, it’s not a big deal,” John lied. He’d stopped off to grab it after your lunch together. “Wasn’t sure what your neighbour’s drill was going to be like, but I know this’ll get the job done proper.”

You bit back an amused smile and hummed your assent down the hall as you waited for the electric kettle to boil.

“Thanks again for helping out, John. I can get by doing my own DIY usually; not to brag but I’m kind of a pro at assembling IKEA furniture. Sometimes though it helps having a second person look it over too.” You walked back to the front door as you spoke and held his tea for him as he set up the drill to match the screws in the door.

“It’s no hassle,” he said before setting to work.

A quick three minutes later your door was once again in full working order, no longer sticking when it swung open and closed.

“Good as new,” he said. You passed him his drink, still hot, and grinned, leading him to sit on the couch for a moment. “If y��need anything else fixing up or looking at, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

“Opened the floodgates with that offer. You’ll be regretting it soon enough,” you said with a laugh. “This place is a bit of a fixer-upper, ‘s why I could afford it in the first place.”

“You’ve done a good job with it,” he said earnestly, looking around the cosy living room. Would be better if you weren’t alone, he thought suddenly, unbidden. He took a deep sip of his drink and avoided eye contact. “I like being useful, you might as well take advantage of it since no one else is at the moment.”

You smiled softly. “That’s all the permission I need.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he slipped it out to see a text from his mum.

>> Make sure your date isn’t wearing white, luv. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl, but we wouldn’t want to spoil Charlotte’s day would we? xxx

<< Her dress is green, nothing to worry about mum. xx

>> Green is a bold choice, must be quite the lady to pull that off! Give her my love. xxx

John sighed as he put his phone down and caught your eye in his peripheral.

He smiled tiredly to ease your worried frown.

“Just my mum checking in, she gives you her love,” he said.

“Mm. She gives you a headache,” you pointed out. “Wedding shit still?”

“It’s her prime focus right now. It’ll be done soon.”

“You want a paracetamol? I’ll top up your tea.” You reached forward for his empty cup.

“Got something stronger?” John asked hopefully.

You winced. “I’ve got a gin ‘n’ tonic in a can that my friend left the other day? Can’t even offer you a strong coffee because it’s decaf.”

“Jesus,” he groaned through a laugh. “Another tea it is.”

---

The morning of the wedding came sooner than you’d expected. The dress that you’d carefully hung on your wardrobe door to avoid creases all those weeks ago would finally be put to use.

You got up early enough to get yourself ready, nervousness unsettling your stomach enough that you stuck to only a slice of toast for breakfast with a strong coffee.

>> Setting off now, I’ll be at yours in 20.

<< you mean you’ll be here by 0900 🫡

>> Funny.

>> See you soon.

You chuckled to yourself as you grabbed your things so you were ready to go when John arrived and double checked everything was locked up for the weekend.

The knock on your door had your heart jump and pound double-time in your chest before you shook your hands out and told yourself to fucking chill. It was just John.

“Hi, you ready to— oh, you look, uhm…” John trailed off as he took in the flowing silk dress you’d bought. He’d seen it before, of course, but now seeing you in it and the way it clung to your curves and highlighted your plush tummy and wide hips had his tongue heavy and lost in his mouth. He swallowed thickly as he looked back up to your face, trying not to linger on the plunged neckline and what it did for your tits, and felt his cheeks redden when he noticed your own flustered, wide-eyed look as you stood and watched him. “You look very nice,” he finished lamely.

“Right, good, thanks.” You tried to force a laugh but your throat felt too dry, even as you grinned at his red cheeks. “You clean up pretty well too,” you said instead and reached your hand out to brush against the neatened trim of his beard, his muttonchops less pronounced.

He stiffened at the unexpected touch, not disliking it, but a memory of Charlotte doing something similar had him flinching back. Charlotte, he remembered, would usually only rub at his beard with a frown and ask when he was going to go clean shaven again.

You didn’t know that however and you snatched your hand back to your side as you felt a chill drop from your chest down to your toes like a bucket of cold water. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” you apologised.

“No, it’s fine. Just caught me off guard,” he said, trying to ease your suddenly tense shoulders and cursing himself for getting lost in old memories.

He led you to the car and held open the door for you, smiling when you thanked him and tucked in your dress to avoid its long length getting trapped in the door.

Once he was sat in the drivers seat he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you.

“‘M glad you like it,” he said with a quick gesture to his beard. “I was thinking about shaving it off for the occasion.”

You winced reflexively at the thought, teeth gritted and bared as you tried to picture him without facial hair. He let out a deep rumble of a laugh, throaty and unfiltered, as you tried to square your face back to a neutral expression, though your eyebrows wouldn’t pull back from their frown.

“I’m sure that would’ve looked… sweet,” you hedged carefully.

John only snorted.

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Ok I’m a terrible liar,” you started, glaring when John muttered an amused, you don’t say. “If you want to shave and like how it looks, then we can detour back to yours and I’m sure you’ll look just as handsome in whatever photos you’re forced to pose for. But if you’re asking for my opinion? Then I think this suits you better, it’s more distinguished. You’d have looked too much like a banker if you’d shaved and wore a suit,” you said with an exaggerated shiver.

John hummed a chuckle, his shoulders shaking with it. “I’m sure the word you’re thinking of rhymes with banker, Sunshine.”

It was your turn to snort a laugh at that.

“Your words, not mine, John.”

“Cheeky. Put your bloody seatbelt on,” he huffed, a smile pulling at his lips as he started the car. “Suddenly thinking this drive might feel ten times longer than usual for some reason.”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t dignify his jab with a response. Tried not to focus on your pulse racing in excitement.

masterlist

[fallingdownhell]

May I request Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh and Cyno with an s/o who's got crazy good luck? They could win any challenge or game presented to them, never get hurt (to badly), and are always making loads of cash (somehow).

I can imagine at least one of those characters getting jealous over something like this.. Characters Included: Itto; Cyno; Zhongli; Kaveh Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; crack??; some fluff and comedy; nothing too serious here, just some funny headcanons Word count: 942 words Have fun with this<3

Itto

the man, the myth, the legend himself..

he gets SO incredibly jealous. When he challenges you jokingly at first, and you keep winning against him..

His pride is on the line here, okay?

you win a match of TCG against his amazing deck? That's fine, he can always challenge you for another round

but when you keep on winning and winning, he gets more and more desperate with each passing round

okay, screw TCG. How about a beetle fight? He's sure to win this, no doubt about it!

...what do you mean he lost again?

he's heartbroken. Will fall to the ground in disbelief. Have the gods truly forsaken him now?

a little drama queen about it, but it wouldn't be the Itto you know and love if he wouldn't act like this

still, you do feel a bit bad about it. To the point where you decide to only do the bare minimum and let him win against you, so he'll cheer up again

when he does win, his spirit is back up again immediately, bloating about his superior victory for the rest of the day. Like, seriously, he won't shut up about it anymore

unless someone were to mention all his previous losses, then he's back to sulking again

however, the next day, all is forgiven and forgotten again

Cyno

one night, after dinner, he was talking about his new deck in TCG when you decided to ask him if he could teach you how to play

immediate sparkles in his eyes as he gets all excited and pulls out a new set of cards for you. He's been waiting for this day to come!

takes his time to explain the rules to you and helps you build your deck. If you ask him questions, he answeres them paitently

then comes the time for your first duel. Even though you are his partner and it's your first ever match, he doesn't plan to go easy on you. Well, maybe a bit, but he still will take this match very seriously

But when you end up winning against him, he's dumbfounded. How did you manage to do that?

He'd quietly mumble something about beginners luck, then challenges you to a rematch. This time, he plans to go all out

...and he looses again

now thourougly confused, he's looking at his cards like he might find the answer in them, while you are laughing your ass off. Your stomach hurts from all the laughing, but you can't calm down. Cyno's just so cute when he looks so shaken up

it's a mystery to him, how you could win against him, despite him having the better cards, the better deck and obviously having more expierence playing the game

in the end, he does swallow down his pride and congratulates you to your win, though he will work his deck over and challenge you again at a later point in time

Zhongli

as an adventurer, it is unavoidable that people get injured every now and then. It's just a risk that comes with the profession

and yet, Zhongli has never seen an injury on you more severe than a cut and maybe some darker bruises

don't get him wrong, he's glad that you're not getting hurt all the time. It's just that your stories and the results don't match up most of the time

"And get this. Then, a huge rockfall comes falling down in our direction! Can you imagine that?" "Darling, that's very serious. How did you manage to avoid that?" "I don't know. Guess I just got lucky. I only got hit my a small one on the head, but it wasn't even big enoug to give me a concussion, so all's good!"

"I almost fell down a cliff today!", "A group of Ruin hunters attacked us today!", "We got locked in a cave, but luckily, they were connected to other caves, so we got out no problem."

almost every other day, you come home with a similar story and every time, Zhongli questions just how much luck one single human can possess to come out mostly unharmed every single time

still, every time you set out for work, he can't help but worry about you. What if one day, your luck runs out on you? You reassure him that you're careful, but it does little to appease his mind when you come home with yet another tale to tell...

Kaveh

Kaveh isn't one for gambling, never has been and never will be. Though, he knows that you like to induldge from time to time, so when you invite him to come along with you, he agrees

and then he witnesses you winning each and every game you partake in. Doesn't matter how rigged the games might be, you make it look so simple

with a huge grin on your lips, your arms raise into the air as you declare your victory one again, and he's left dumbfounded

when he catches a quiet moment, he can't help but ask you about it

"I don't know. I just always had really good luck when it comes to those type of games.", would be your nonchalant explanaition

now he gets why you don't go out to play more often. You'd get banned from every single location if you were to do this regularely

Going home from a place like this with such a massive win.. he's too stunned to speak, but nonetheless very impressed and proud of you for it

will accompany you more often when you want to go out to gamble again, just to see your excited and joyful expression again

[blindmagdalena]

Homelander POV with “looking at wedding ring in finger”

from this prompt list. just some rambling fluffy homelander x reader feelings. 🖤

To a man with enough strength to juggle approximately a dozen Mack trucks with minimal effort, there are few things in this world that he would earnestly consider heavy. Except for, it turns out, a single gold band around his ring finger. He's barely left it alone since he put it on, always either twisting it on his finger or flexing his gloved hand just to feel it shift, hyperaware of the weight of it.

Not because it's uncomfortable. It's new, certainly, and it's taking a little getting used to, but not because he doesn't like it. He just can't quite believe it's real. That you're real.

Before the ring, Homelander would scrounge for a variety of ways to remind himself of the reality of you. He would spray your perfume under the collar of his suit or carry any kind of tactile article of yours with him. Something tangible to keep him grounded when he is so characteristically prone to flying, both literally and off the handle.

Now, all he need do is tighten his fingers together, or press his thumb to the band. Even through his gloves, he can feel the metallic press of his wedding ring. It soothes him, gives him something easy and inconspicuous to fidget with, and without fail it makes him think of you.

A comfort in and of itself.

It feels good to call himself a married man during interviews. He can wield it like a shield or a blade, depending on the context. Your existence alone is enough to protect him, affording him a sense of normalcy that he's lacked for the majority of his life.

His experiences in this world have been so utterly alien, with every human part of him fabricated by Vought.

Not you. You're genuine, you're real, and you're entirely his.

No more sickly sweet stories of a family that never existed. No more gritting his teeth through recollections of baseball games he never played. He no longer needs to read scripts to appear human to the world. When he talks about you, it's like he comes alive on screen for the first time in his life. You protect him without ever having to even be there.

And yet you are there. Any time he glances off camera, or off stage, he can almost always find you in an instant. You never fail to smile, to wave, to be present when he looks for you. It's not just the heat of his skin that gives the ring warmth, it's the love you leave in it when you kiss it every morning before he puts his gloves on.

It's you. The warmth is you.

"Heyyy," you coo as he walks backstage, opening your arms to him. He immediately scoops you up into an embrace, lifting you clean off of your feet and spinning you in a little circle, startling a giddy laugh out of you.

"Whoa, what's all this about?" You ask, arms looped around his neck, a slightly bewildered edge to your smile.

"You saved me out there," he says. He can tell the depth in his tone catches you off guard by the way your eyes widen, expression faltering. "You did. Y'always do. Thanks."

He knows by the lingering confusion in your gaze that you're not sure what he means, but that's fine. You'll understand. He'll thank you properly when it's just the two of you, and he can write his gratitude on every inch of your body with his lips, his tongue, his fingers.

"I love you," he says, kissing you with such intensity, the two of you forget for a moment that you aren't alone.

"I love you, too," you say breathlessly, blinking yourself back to reality, thoroughly flustered. "Phew, wow, alright. Good, so..."

You glance around, taking note of the number of people trying their best not to stare while very clearly needing Homelander's attention, but all he can focus on is you.

"You better get back to work," you say, trying to put some authority in your voice.

He grins, setting you back on your feet. "S'pose I better," he agrees, though his hands linger on your waist a little longer. "Wait for me?"

"Always," you vow, the glint of your own ring catching the light as you touch his face. You give his cheek a playful little smack. "Now go. Before you ruin both our makeup," you chide, smiling as he slips off, casting one last look back at you.

He squeezes his hand into a fist, feeling that ring firm between his fingers.

It brings him such peace that even when you're not with him, you're never really gone from him.

[whimsyfinny]

He’s a Winchester

Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It's been a long time since (Y/n) and Dean's paths have crossed. Last time they saw each other it was ‘98 and they were young and living in the moment. Nine years down the Line, their paths cross again, but (Y/n)s longest kept secret is about to become Deans reality.

Slow burn (ish), mom!reader

Warnings: language, alcohol, lots of feelings, small angst, bullying, reader being a victim

Chapter Word Count: 6639

MDNI 18+

A/N: sorry this took so long! Life has been a lot aha. I kinda feel like I’ve rambled on with this one, so I’m sorry about that… I also feel like this was kinda a filler chapter? Idk, I’m sorry if this one isn’t as exciting… Either way, I hope you like it! As always, it's only proofread by moi, so let me know of any errors. Also feedback is greatly appreciated!

A/N2: GUYS IT GOES WITHOUT SAYING but PLEEEEASE provide your age if you want to be added to the taglist and it isn’t in your blog. This story is tame now but it’s gonna get spicy, and my blog is strictly 18+. So pleeeeease save be a very long job and help a gal out.

Photos from Pinterest

New Readers Start Here: Chapter 1

Previous Chapter: Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Sunday mornings were the only time we could get away with being lazy. I would crawl out of bed at around eight o’clock - compared to my normal six o’clock - and shuffle downstairs in my pyjamas in search of coffee whilst Levi was either still sleeping or playing Guitar Hero on the PS2, quietly by himself. On this particular Sunday morning, however, I did indeed venture downstairs at just gone eight, and instead of finding one young boy playing video games by himself, I was greeted with the sight of him battling it out with his uncle whilst his dad sat and watched, critiquing his techniques. I padded in quietly, pulling my long soft cardigan around me further as I tried my best to watch on unseen, enjoying this moment just as much as they were and unwilling to pop their happy bubble. I watched for a few minutes, seeing how Sam didn't go easy on Levi just because he was a kid, and how Dean couldn't seem to take his eyes off his son who was entirely immersed in the game, a soft smile taking up permanent residence on his lips. Dean turned his head slightly and caught sight of me in the archway, that soft smile evolving into a pulse quickening grin. He stood quickly, striding over to me with those plaid pyjama pants distractingly low on his hips.

“G’mornin’ sweetheart, you sleep ok?” He was now a few inches away and smelt like coffee and warm linen - it was the sort of scent that wrapped around me and drew me in with an almost dangerous nature.

“Like the dead,” I grinned, looking up at him, “though I'm not surprised after all those beers and our 1AM bedtime. You're a bad influence Winchester,” I poked his chest and had to fight back a groan when I felt how frustratingly firm his muscles were beneath his grey henley. Instead of vocalising my ‘annoyance’, I bit my lip, which in its own way I suppose was worse. Worse, because now those mossy green eyes were looking at my mouth, their gaze lingering before looking back up to my eyes.

“What can I say except I had a good time? It was nice catching up like that. It was like…”

“Like we’d gone back to a simpler time?”

“Like we'd never been apart.” 

Those words held a sudden weight to them that thumped deep in my chest.

“Yeah,” I said quietly, my eyes not leaving him, “I know what you mean”.

We both seemed caught up for a moment, silent and unmoving - just watching each other. He seemed totally steady, save for the deep inhale he took when I held his gaze just a little too long. He cleared his throat, breaking the trance that seemed too quick to have ever even existed in the first place.

“Coffee?” He asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchen.

“Coffee sounds great,” I smiled, glancing over to Sam and Levi who'd still failed to notice my arrival.

Dean and I paced leisurely to the kitchen where I was pleasantly surprised to see a pot of coffee already brewed, just waiting to be poured. Dean reached into the overhead cupboard, already learning where things were and selected two mugs. Pouring the hot liquid into both of them before handing me one, we both leant against the counter as I relished the warmth seeping through the ceramic and into my fingertips.

“You know,” I took a sip, humming in satisfaction, “I could get used to this,” my words felt dangerous the moment they slipped from my lips, a part of me kicking myself for vocalising such internal thoughts. Deans eyes widened almost fast enough for me to miss before his gaze returned to normal, his lips parting slightly as his mug paused on the elevation to his mouth. But once that half a second was over, it was like the fleeting surprise never happened. He simply hummed in agreement, his eyes soft and warm.

“Did you sleep ok?” I said quickly, taking the attention away from my earlier slip of words. He grinned with a nod.

“You have no idea how nice it is to sleep somewhere that's not musty and dusty and a possible crime scene from back in the eighties.” I grinned much like he did, my mind suddenly filling with images of brown and orange decor, unwashed bedsheets and spiders who might as well pay rent because they’ve been there so long.

“Well I can assure you that you're safe from all of that here - though no promises on the eighties crime scene, I have no idea who lived in this house back then.”

Deans grin turned more self assured as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“You don't think the equipment I brought would've made a noise if there was something here that went bump in the night?”

“Equipment?” I almost snorted, “you mean the EMF thing that you made on ‘pimp my Walkman’?”

Dean practically clutched his pearls.

“How dare you - that thing is a work of art. Blood, sweat and tears went into that masterpiece,” by the end of his sentence he was grinning again, almost like he knew he was talking out of his ass.

“Uh huh. Sure thing baby.”

Shit.

Deans lips twitch upwards as the intensity of his gaze sparks up something hot before quickly dying out, his posture straightening as he lifts his mug to his mouth again. I kick myself a second time for letting the term of endearment roll off my tongue. I’d never had this issue before - accidentally calling people nicknames or anything of the sort. I’d dated guys who had perfectly reasonable names that I always remembered to call them. Yet Dean… he stood here, in my kitchen after almost a decade and somehow still managed to turn my brain to butter. It was hard to describe, as surely I couldn’t still feel that way for someone who I’d been parted from for so long with not a whisper of their name from anyone's lips but my own. I no longer knew him. Nine years of time and life and experiences will have sculpted Dean and everything that I knew him to be into a totally different person…wouldn’t it? Hell, maybe he’s even got a girlfriend somewhere out there who's waiting for him to return to her, but he’s just been too nice to mention it. That, or I’ve been too selfishly wrapped up in things that used to be us to even think of asking. Perhaps the mushy consistency of my brain was simply another symptom of some so-called ‘muscle memory’, as my current behaviour was always how I’d been around him. Flirty. Playful. Infatuated. Perhaps I simply didn’t know how else to act; how to be normal in his presence because I knew he’s seen every inch of me, both physically and philosophically. He’d seen my ugly days yet he’d still kissed away the turmoil without so much as a second thought. Maybe, just maybe, I needed to reel myself back in - take myself back to before we were star crossed lovers. Before the memories were made and our hearts beat to the same tune. Back when we were just two people who would laugh and joke and stay up late. Perhaps that would make this all easier.

“There’s that name again,” Deans low drawl snapped me from my internal debate, an unreadable expression dawning on his features.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think my mouth and brain are working together anymore,” I sighed, fighting to keep some sliver of amusement in my voice. 

“Oh yeah?” a smirk appeared on Deans face, that playful glint returning to his eye as he chewed his bottom lip as though having an internal debate of his own. Who knows what side won, but I’m sure some form of sleep depravity was involved with his next few words: “I remember a time when your mouth didn’t need your brain and it worked just fine on its own.” If his aim here was to make me flustered, he’d sure as hell succeeded as heat bloomed across my cheeks and my mouthful of coffee was spat back into my cup with a splutter.

“Dean!”

He released an almost wicked laugh, clearly pleased with himself for my reaction. If he was going to be making comments like that on a regular basis, it was going to prove extremely difficult for ‘operation: we’re just friends’ to be in full effect. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’ll stop,” his words were softer yet the edge of amusement was still present.

I scowled at him with as much venom as a fucking wetwipe, my own amused grin straining at my lips.

“You better,” I jabbed a finger into his chest before placing my half empty coffee mug on the counter, turning away from him to rummage through the kitchen cupboards. I turned back around a moment later and thrust four bowls in his hands along with four spoons and two large cereal boxes.

“Put these on the table before you say anything else that might cause me to choke on my coffee.”

I watched a choking innuendo pass right before his eyes yet he bit his tongue and pursed his lips, taking a moment before his eyebrows rose slightly.

“Were you always this bossy?”

“I’m not bossy, I just have a child who needs to be fed. Now, table,” I pointed to the items in his arms before pointing to their designated destination.

“You could at least say ‘please’,” his tone was growing taunting and it drew a sigh from my chest.

“Fine. Can you put those things on the table, please.”

“Hmm… I don’t feel like you meant that, it felt a little… I don't know… hostile?” The grin was now in full effect.

“DEAN.”

“Ok! I’m going!” he turned and did as I asked, finally setting the table for all four of us. 

Breakfast passed by with so much ease it was as though we’d done it every day of our lives. Sam and Levi continued to talk about Guitar Hero whilst Dean listened, chipping in the classic rock trivia where he could. The whole time, I just sat, listened and watched, absorbing everything about this moment in time and doing whatever I could to make this a core memory. I breathed in, telling myself to remember the smell of sugar and coffee in the air, along with the new and unfamiliar masculine undertone of cologne and old leather. I looked around, watching how the golden morning light made their hair and skin glow in shades of amber and white, the small dust particles in the air illuminated like fireflies. The sound of their animated chatter was soft, creating a serene ambiance that was as pleasant on the ears as notes from a music box. Everything about this moment was all I’d dreamt of; from the fully occupied breakfast table to the relaxed atmosphere, and the cherry on the cake was knowing that these men were family. Levis family. He had a dad and an uncle who wanted to cherish him and spend time with him, to make him feel so important and loved that it made up for nearly nine years of absence. I know, deep, deep down that part of this was from them feeling guilty - Dean more so than Sam - yet that was only a small part. Their love and affection for him stemmed from something real and it was so easy to see, so fucking clear on their faces, that it made me want to cry. And that feeling was so fucking strong that I had to excuse myself from the table and freshen up in the bathroom, barely able to utter a word to them as I stepped away.

After taking five and splashing some water on my face I emerged from the bathroom and headed back downstairs. Sam and Levi were back in front of the playstation, this time playing Need for Speed, and Dean remained at the table, another coffee between his palms as he leant forwards, staring into the liquid. He must’ve heard me coming as he looked up with a slightly concerned expression. 

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah,” my voice didn’t come out as level as I’d hoped, so I diverted the conversation. “I thought that’d be you over there playing Need for Speed. How come you’re over here glaring at your coffee?”

“Ahh, we’ve been up for a while and I spent about an hour on Guitar Hero with Levi before you came down. Plus…” the small smile on his lips that appeared when he looked over at his son was now directed towards me, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Uh oh, I hate it when sentences start like that.”

“No, it’s nothing bad. I just…uhhh… well, last night when we were talking, you said something that I can’t stop thinking about,” despite his calm expression, his knuckles were starting to turn white around his cup.

“I said a lot of things last night, Dean, you’re going to ha-”

“Let me take you out.”

“What?” 

“Let me take you out,” he repeated, but this time softer and slower, “you said last night that you never get to go out for drinks anymore and that you’ve had some pretty shit dates,” we both grimaced slightly at the thought of that. “ Well… I’m here. Let me take you out. Levi is at a sleepover tonight so you have nothing to worry about where he’s concerned,” he took a deep breath and reached across the table to place his hand, warm and large, over mine. “Let me do something nice for you, like you deserve.” There was a pause as silence settled between us for a moment. He wanted to take me out. Like, a date, or just as old friends, or as co-parents…? I had no idea what his angle was on this. Did he want to have sex? Was that it? Was he just trying to get his dick wet? Old Dean would occasionally pull those tricks with me, though they were usually few and far between, but would the new Dean do that? Was it even a low bar thing to do? Maybe it’s a pity date, and he’s only taking me out because I’ve been so incapable of being able to replace him with someone who is better - who probably doesn’t even exist - that he’s now just feeling sorry for me. Why, oh why the ever living fuck am I even over analysing this? Dean wanted to take me for drinks so why should I care what his motive is. This is a fucking opportunity for me to relax and let loose a little. To not be mom for a few hours. To be me. And why should I care if he wants to fuck me? I should be flattered, right? That he possibly still finds me attractive? And I can’t deny that it’s been a while since I’ve had half decent sex - or any sex at all for this matter. 

“Yes,” I blurted, perhaps a little aggressively. 

“Yes?” he smiles again, that easy, contagious smile, “you’ll let me take you on a date?”

“So it is a date?” I couldn’t help but mirror his grin, adding my own amused tone.

“Wasn’t that obvious?”

“Well, no, you said you’d ‘take me out’. That could mean anything. You could’ve meant with a fucking gun.”

Dean erupted into laughter, shaking his head. That laugh. I remember likening it to a favourite song that was so easy to put on repeat. It was addictive.

“Ok, so I’m not taking you out with a gun. I’m taking you out on a date. Have I dumbed it down enough for ya’ know?”

“If you were any clearer you’d be transparent,” I said, my tone bordering on mocking. 

“Great, well, me and Sammy have a few loose ends to tie up from this case we’re on, so we need to head out soon. We’ll be back by the evening though, soooo…. Be ready for six?”

I nodded eagerly, watching as he stood from the table. The sight of him in the henley - plaid bottoms combo makes me want to have a cozy day indoors, watching nothing but scary movies and scarfing down popcorn and cookie dough. The sigh I heave from my lungs was totally involuntary. 

“Yeah,” I smile, “six is perfect.”

Kat and Toby arrived at the house around noon. Whilst the boys race upstairs to get on with God-knows-what, Kat strides in with a knowing smirk when she clocks the duffle bags that are clearly not mine beside the couch, along with the lingering aroma that's distinctly masculine intertwining with the pumpkin spice from my scented candles. As I studied her face for all but a few seconds, I braced myself for the flurry of questions that I knew were buzzing around her mind.

“Sooooo…” her tone was already amused as she flopped down onto the couch. “Anything you need to tell me?”

“What? Who do you think I am?” I scoff at her words, yet my pulse quickens at the thought of telling her about my plans for tonight. 

“I think you're a woman still in love with her childhood sweetheart and that he's already sweeping you off your feet.”

“I am not still in love with him. I can't possibly be in love with someone I've not seen for almost a decade.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Bitch, don't ‘mmm hmm’ me. I'm not in love with Dean.”

“Would you fuck him?”

“God yes.”

“So you're keeping him around for the possibility of good dick?”

I threw myself down beside her on the couch, pulling a throw cushion into my lap.

“No, that is so not true. I can't believe you'd think me so shallow,” I held my hand to my chest in mock devastation. She hummed again.

“Didn't you do that to what's-his-face?”

“Who?”

“The guy you dated about a year ago, drove around in that Mustang?”

“Oh shit yeah! I think his name was Chad? Or maybe Brad…? Ok yeah, I did kinda keep him around for his dick… and his car. That car was awesome.”

“You shallow, shallow bitch.”

I threw the cushion which hit her square in the face, likely leaving a print of her lipstick behind on the soft fabric.

“But that was just some dude that was only with me so he could fucking tick ‘banged a milf’ off his bucket list. This is Dean I'm talking about. He's… well… he's Dean. And he's not here for me. He's here for Levi. Don't blame a man for wanting to stick around when he's just found out he's got a kid,” I gave her a look that said ‘I fucking love you but please can we drop this now’, and she did, one final hum moving past her lips. We stared at each other for a moment, her expression one of a studious nature and mine one of feigned innocence. This woman could read me like a book, and I both simultaneously loved and hated it. I loved it, because when something went wrong, and quite often in my life things did, she just knew. She knew to be at mine that same evening with a bottle of red and a bucket of popcorn, pyjamas on and the boys asleep upstairs. This woman had slept in my bed more times than any man as we continued to have sleepovers like teenagers well into our twenties. Alcoholic sleepovers. Yet I hated how she read me like a book, because like right now, if I was in denial about anything or for some absurd reason trying to keep a secret, she would just know. She was like a fucking mind reader. I chuckled inwardly at the thought of that being true. Maybe Dean should scan her with his Walkman and freak her out. Maybe then she'd get off my case about me still being in love with him. I'm not in love with him. 

“You still aren't telling me something,” her voice was even, the amusement fading slightly as she stared at me, waiting for me to stop beating around the bush. Under the heat of her stare I caved, sighing and slumping even further into the soft cushions behind me.

“He's taking me out…on a date.”

“I FUCKING knew it!”

“What?! How would you know that?!” I almost jumped as she flew forward in her seat, the gleam back in her eyes as she grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“I didn't know that exactly, but bitch I knew you were hiding something juicy!”

“It's not juicy! It's casual - just drinks. I’m gonna wear jeans.”

“Oh yeah, because flaunting the curvature of ones ass makes it casual…”

“Aren’t you here to collect my kid or something?” I launch into my last resort to end this hellish interrogation - which involved kicking her out.

“Babes you can kick me out of your house but you can’t ignore this,” she stood slowly, her ‘all-knowing’ expression un-faltering. 

“Kat, it’s only day two of him being here! You are getting way ahead of yourself,” I stood with her, shaking my head. 

“Two days plus the whole freakin’ year you were dating. That man is not a stranger to you. Hell, you’ve probably had that coc-”

“THANK YOU, Kat! I love you, you are the yin to my fucking yang but please for the love of CHRIST - shut up!”

Her expression finally cracked and she practically cackled at my discomfort, making her way to the stairs to get the boys.

“Bitch, if I don’t get details about tonight then -”

“Ok I’ll tell you! But seriously, don’t read into it too much, it’s just drinks.”

She strutted to the bottom of the stairs before ascending, calling over her shoulder; “Sure, whatever you say honey!”

It took longer than I'd have hoped, but Kat eventually left with the boys for the remainder of the day. As soon as they'd left the building, it was like I could breathe again - like the house could breathe again. It was a rare occasion for me to have the place to myself for five minutes, let alone a whole twenty four hours. It was like I could finally hear my own thoughts again after the busy breakfast and Kat's dire interrogation. The silence was bliss. It was pure bliss as I made myself a coffee and settled comfortably on the couch, taking a moment to myself. It was blissful right up until my own thoughts started banging at the door in the back of my mind. Thoughts about Dean, and his motives and my motives. Suddenly my relaxing afternoon to myself was quickly becoming a caged-in trap for my internal thoughts to run wild, the drums of possibilities sounding in the far reaches of my brain, beating faster and faster the closer they drew. Almost as quickly as I'd sat down, I jumped up and headed to the store cupboard under the stairs. One thing that could distract me was cleaning, so that's exactly what I was going to do. 

I blitzed the house from top to bottom, hoovering, mopping, cleaning mirrors and windows, dusting and evening folding the pile of laundry that was starting to become part of the furniture. Much to my dismay, that only took up two hours of my time, so I was left with the only other task that I hate more than folding hundreds of small human sized pieces of fabric. Grocery shopping. 

After a manic stock take of the fridge, cupboards and pantry, I made a list, grabbed my bag, threw on my jacket and headed out.

I'd been shopping around the small town convenience store for around twenty minutes, browsing the aisles and throwing everything - plus some extras - from my list into the aggravatingly wonky trolley. I hated grocery shopping with a passion - the constant beeping from the checkouts, the passive aggressive road rage between trolley users, and the dozens of obscenely slow browsers frustrated me beyond belief. I was normally able to push it to a big haul every two weeks, but with the prospect of Sam and Dean staying a while, it was a safe bet to fill the house to the brim with snacks and meals alike. With the lifestyle that those two lived, I can't imagine that they're overly fussy eaters, and I have a hunch that Dean still loves turkey dinosaurs.

The cereal aisle wasn't supposed to be an eventful place - deciding between Cookie Crisp and Cinnamon Squares should be the highlight of this venture. However as my luck would have it, it became eventful.

“Oh hi! (Y/n)!”

I looked up from my crumpled list and was greeted with three faces that I recognised but not to the point of acquaintanceship.

“Uhh, hi? Can I help you?” 

“I just wanted to say that it's so great to finally see that Levi's father is around. It's just so important, isn't it? For a boy to have that male role model,” the first woman spoke; her peroxide blonde hair looked so overbleached it may as well have been straw on her head, and it almost distracted me from her painfully patronising voice.

“Excuse me? Do I know you?” My voice started to take on a defensive edge as my palms immediately grew sweaty, this situation already making me uncomfortable. 

She laughed, looking over at her friend's like I'd asked some stupid fucking question. 

“Our son's go to the same school - you should really know this.”

“Well, if our sons aren't friends, then why would I need to?” 

She took a deep breath. 

“I just think it's funny how someone like you managed to get someone like… what's his name… Dean? Isn't he a little out of your league?”

My pulse thrummed as my frustration grew with the sudden, unsolicited and blatant attack. How the fuck did they know Deans name? Someone must've overheard us at Jolenes'... or maybe at the track? And what the fuck did she mean by ‘out of my league’? If she was insinuating what I thought she was, then she's going to need to head over to the fucking freezer aisle real freaking soon.

“Excuse me?” 

She smirked, knowing she was sinking her plastic fucking talons into my skin already.

“Oh I think you heard me. Does Dean know? That you trapped him? When you got pregnant on purpose at nineteen?”

My blood began to boil as I white knuckled the handle of the trolley to stop myself from punching her square between the eyes.

“Fuck you; I didn't ‘trap him’. Is that really what you cliquey bitches think?” I was equal parts furious and heartbroken. Furious, because how fucking dare they assume that just because Dean is a God tier DILf that I fooled him into getting me pregnant all those years ago. And heartbroken because, well, is that really what the people in this town thought of me? If these women thought that, then who's to say half the town don't think the same? Or maybe more - maybe it's the whole freaking town with Kat being the only exception, and I've been living so cocooned in my own bubble that it never even occurred to me. But Dean has barely even been here a day, so I can’t exactly blame myself for being so wrapped up in my own life with everything going on. How can people form such strong opinions so quickly when they don’t even know the whole story? My story with Dean. Not theirs. They’ve somehow managed to put two and two together to come up with negative fucking ten, and I’ll be damned if I let them drag our names through the mud.

“Oh honey, we know that you tricked him. A man like that, with that face and physique would never have chosen you willingly, right? I mean, you really don’t look his type.”

“Oh, and you do? Because you know Dean so well?”

“That’s enough!” We were caught off guard by the oldest of the three, a woman perhaps in her fifties, snapping in a clipped tone. “Michelle, that’s quite enough, you’re taking this too far now. And you,” she turned to me with a stern gaze, “that man looks like trouble. We don’t like those sorts around here; you tell him to behave himself.” My anger and frustration was quickly melting into straight up irritation.

“Look, lady-”

“Karen.”

“Sure, ok… look, Deans a grown ass man, he can do whatever the fuck he likes - he’s here on a job. I’m not telling him to do shit.”

“Language! Such a foul mouth-”

“Is he single?” our heads quickly snapped to the third woman of the group - younger than the other two but still a little older than myself. She was a near double of the blonde from the hair to the clothes to the claws, yet she seemed to lack the spite.

“What?” yet another question that caught me off guard. What the fuck is wrong with these women?

“Dean, is he single? I mean, I’ve not seen him, but from how you describe him, he seems hot,” she twirled a lock of hair around her finger like a school girl despite likely being in her thirties.

“Hannah you’re married,” Karen chimed in with obvious disgust. 

That was it, the last fucking straw. I’d had enough of the ambush from three women that I barely even knew. I adjusted my grip on the trolley and quickly planned my escape route, spotting an opening in the crowd to the side. I gritted my teeth and steeled my gaze, the bitter taste of disgust, fury, and disappointment coating my tongue as I all but spat my words.

“This has been a riveting conversation, truely, but I’m leaving. Now,” and with that I hastily left them behind, finishing my shopping with the dark cloud of judgement looming over me. 

The urge to cry hot, angry tears in the car on the ride home was a battle I didn't want to fight. The intensity of the emotions brewing in the pit of my stomach and bubbling into my chest was so strong, so consuming that I didn't even realise I was pulling into my own driveway, having completed the short journey on what I like to call ‘blackout autopilot’. One tear was shed over the shitshow, and in my opinion, that was one tear too many. I was annoyed at myself with having let it get to me so much, knowing I'd grown thicker skin than this. It wasn't the first time I'd been confronted, like a fucking black sheep in a blindingly white flock, yet for some reason, this got to me. At this point, I was drained from even thinking about it, so I grabbed the groceries, making several trips to get them all in the house, put away the fridge and freezer items and left the rest on the counter to deal with later. Right now, I needed a large glass of wine and something to distract myself with. So I decided on the only thing I had going for me at this point in time.

Time to pick an outfit for tonight.

My bedroom was a modest size and the king-size bed practically consumed the room. I had a large, sliding mirrored-door wardrobe that was built into the structure of the room which I flung open and started to rummage through as soon as I made it upstairs.

I'd told myself - and Kat - that it was casual. Dean had implied it, so this shouldn't be too hard to find something nice to wear.

Wrong.

I must've spent the best part of an hour trying on dozens of different tops with my only pair of ‘nice’ jeans - those ones that hugged my ass and thighs just right. I tried long sleeves, short sleeves, chiffon, cotton, satin, opaque, obscenely translucent, bright, monochrome and in all honesty, I felt inadequate in every single one. I'd never really been one to feel overly self conscious of how I looked, but for some absurd reason, this date with Dean was making me flustered. It had me worried that he wouldn’t like how I looked, especially since I’d had Levi and my body had changed in a way that he didn’t know just yet. 

Just yet. 

I cursed myself slightly, shaking that idea from my head. Yes, I’ve had plenty of time to try and get myself back to normal, but some things just weren't the same anymore, and probably never would be. I hated the fact that I was even stressed about this. The safest option was to just go for something comfortable, so I donned a stretchy, low-cut and long sleeved black top and slid on a pair of black closed-toe heels before sitting down at my dresser. 

I’d just opened my makeup bag when I heard the door downstairs open and close, quickly followed by the oddly comforting sounds of Sam and Deans voices floating through the house and up the stairs. I turned to myself in the mirror, sighing at the tired looking woman staring back at me. Get your shit together, (Y/n), Dean is taking you on a date. I grasped my over-sharpened eyeliner pencil that was likely no longer than an inch in length and got to work. I suddenly flinched and nearly poked myself in the eye when Dean appeared in my bedroom doorway.

“Jesus, Dean! You scared the crap out of me - I didn’t even hear you come up the stairs.”

He grinned slightly as he leant against the wooden frame, large arms crossing over his chest. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to…” his voice trailed off and I could feel his eyes on me, as though he was searching for something. A few moments went by in silence, and right as I was about to turn to him, he spoke.

“Hey, are you ok?” His voice was dangerously soft, and concerned in a way that could easily have me weeping in his arms. Because of the shitty afternoon I’d had, I feel like it wouldn’t take much kindness from him to have me crumble - no matter how much I’d hate myself for it afterwards. Instead, I pushed everything down as best as I could and turned to him with a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’ve had a bit of a weird, shitty afternoon but I won’t ruin your evening with it.” At my words he pulled a face, his own words quickly following.

“It’s your evening. And if there’s something eating at you, you know you can talk to me. Just like you used to,” his smile was back, warm and comforting and like a balm over a burn. I looked back at myself in the mirror for a moment, debating if it was even worth talking about. If it was anyone but Dean, I wouldn’t hesitate to keep this to myself. But it was Dean, and I hated to say it, but he was always good at dealing with me when I was like this in the past. I turned to him and let his calming presence seep into my bones, desperately trying to take it on myself.

“Ok,” I said quietly, “I’ll tell you at the bar. But I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want to talk about it all evening,” He nodded.

“Whatever you need sweetheart,” he stood up straight and said something about getting ready himself before he left the room, leaving me to finish up before finally heading downstairs. 

It was roughly another fifteen minutes before I made my way down; Dean already waiting for me in the archway to the kitchen. He looked up as he heard me coming, eyes brightening when he grinned at me.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” his voice was smooth and deep, a flirtatious undertone rumbling in his chest. 

“Not so bad yourself Winchester,” I walked up to stand in front of him, almost toe-to-toe. I looked him over, taking in the black shirt he wore, untucked and paired his jeans. The boots and brown leather jacket remained the same, yet I could see the damp patches on both from where he’d scrubbed either mud or blood from the fabric - perhaps both. It wouldn’t be the first time. I took a deep breath, my pulse quickening as his scent filled my senses. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked, removing a hand from his pocket and let it hang awkwardly at his side. I shook my head. 

“Not yet, I sometimes forget to eat when Levi isn’t around.” Dean shot me a look that could have been both concerned or protective.

“Ok, well I’m taking you for dinner too then.”

“What? No Dean, you really don’t have t-”

“Don’t argue with me sweetheart, I'm fucking feeding you,” his tone was final, leaving no room for negotiation so I sighed in defeat. 

“Fine, but we’re not going anywhere expensive.”

His smirk widened across his face as he continued to look down at me, finally placing that awkwardly hanging hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the door. He shouted a ‘goodbye’ to Sam over his shoulder and, without really waiting for a reply, he ushered me out of the house and towards the car, locking up behind us. I walked up to the black vehicle, the excitement starting to bubble at the thought of going for a ride in her again after all this time. As Dean walked up to me, he opened the passenger side door, letting me hop in first. I took my seat, quickly dumping my bag and jacket in the footwell so I could softly run my fingertips over the perfectly maintained leather seats, noticing how not a thing had changed - not even the box of cassettes on the back seat. As Dean slid into the drivers seat, his expression something akin to pride, he couldn’t help but comment on my reaction to being back in the impala.

“I bet you missed Baby more than you missed me,” he joked, turning the key and letting the engine roar into life. I bit my lip, leaning back in my seat.

“I missed you both equally,” the humorous tone came easily, my earlier worries already started to feel insignificant as they slipped away with every tick of the engine.

“Equally?” he echoed, feigning hurt, “you don’t even prefer me just a little bit more?”

I pretended to ponder intently, holding a finger to my lips as I crossed my arms over my chest. An obnoxious string of ‘hmmms’ slipped through my lips before I saw him roll his eyes, still grinning.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Especially since you're taking me on a date,” my own words made my heart flutter and luckily he'd moved his gaze from me to the road as he pulled out of my drive. My face felt warm and I cursed at myself for being so easily affected by him already, entranced by the way those long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel and the muscles in his jaw flexed under the glow of the passing street lamps. I couldn't deny that he was still painfully attractive, even after all this time. If I was being honest with myself, he was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate on much else right now. If drinks were soon to be involved, there was a very high chance of me making a total ass of myself in front of him.

Tonight was likely going to be one to remember.

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[blasphemecel]

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Food Analogy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader/Alexis Ness WORD COUNT: 3.3k TYPE: Humor, Bad Flirting (it's never been worse), Rivalry WARNING(S): Canon-typical football derangement, tw Kaiser, tw Ness, tw Y/n 💀 NOTE: This is the Dog Walking origin story does anyone remember me hi?

Believe it or not, Isagi never took you for a nutcase. Can your words sometimes be a bit absurd in nature? Over the top, maybe? Yes, but the environment you’re in is easy to blame. Otherwise, you’re a respectable individual, if not aloof, always keeping a certain distance from everyone else.

This is all to say, there is no way Isagi could’ve anticipated the utter nightmare he is in the middle of right now. If there was, he would’ve ran away the moment he heard your footsteps approaching after Kaiser blocked his shot and gave him that shitty speech.

You seem to have witnessed the whole thing, and with Kaiser gone, you wrap an arm around Isagi’s shoulders. “Do you know what he said to you?”

“In German?” asks Isagi, confused. “No.”

“What’s so special about you that one of the New Gen World XI players is picking a fight with you, huh? Because it was the last goal? He didn’t even glance at me and I finished the course before you.” Your eyes narrow at him with easy, second-nature condescension. It’s the first time you’ve hurled such provocations his way. “You’re always hogging the spotlight, you know?”

Isagi huffs, annoyed by your attitude. “Try harder in the next match, then. I don’t know what you want me to do. I’ll devour you either way.”

“Stop telling people you’re gonna devour them, you cannibal. It’s so tasteless.” You click your tongue, bemused by his lack of style — no wonder you get along with Aryu — and then you gesture at Ness and Kaiser in the distance. “Look at him. He even has a servant. It’s not fair. I want someone to do my bidding!”

“Why are you acting so childish right now?”

You push him off of you like you weren’t the one who got so close to him in the first place, then stalk up to Kaiser and Ness with the confidence of someone on a mission. At this point, Isagi knows he should look away, and yet his attention is glued to whatever is about to ensue like he’s a spectator of a car crash.

Ness offers you a fake smile and reaches out to hand you the same translation gadget he’d given Isagi earlier, but, of course, because you’re insane, you decide the most appropriate course of action is to take out one of his and shove it in your ear. He blinks.

“You seem vulnerable and easy to boss around,” you say. Wow, what a first impression. Ness’s smile slips. “I’m looking for a henchman or a goon or something similar. Are you interested?” Then you address Kaiser. “That was a cute little show you put on for Isagi. For how long did you practice it?”

“It was improvised,” he lies.

“Sure it was.”

“Who the hell are you?” Kaiser shoos you away with a wave of his hand. “Third rate actor trying to intrude on my stage. Bo-ring.”

Isagi cannot discern if Kaiser doesn’t recognize you from the U-20 match for real or if he’s just pretending in order to insult you, but his best guess is that you’re going to make him… very aware of your identity after this.

___

This is, perhaps, the most insulting thing to ever happen to Isagi.

The field falls into a conclusive silence, everyone still lingering by whatever spot they’d been in during the game before it finished. Isagi knows he’s staring at you like a serial killer, eyes drilling holes into your side profile with utmost offense. The football-induced neurosis he usually gets lost in while playing is yet to wear off, which is probably why he’s taking this to heart.

Without a doubt, you were ahead of him at least in the final moment, despite failing to stand out for the rest of the match. You’d predicted he wouldn’t cave in and pass to Kaiser and got in range, jumping in between them out of nowhere, stealing what was supposed to be Kunigami’s goal.

Though what made your outplaying him so galling is that it was all a way of picking a fight with fucking Kaiser. Not even with him, but with Kaiser. His act of relenting — of not trying to score on his own because of concepts like rationality and recognizing limits — became an instrument in this stupid fight you’ve been picking.

Then Isagi watches you figuratively spit in Kaiser’s face because, of course, your obnoxious ass can’t just win and leave it at that. No, unnecessary amounts of gloating seem to be what you run on, and now you grab Kaiser by the chin and mock his introduction, “On your knees, Bastard München.”

This is the worst transgression of Kaiser’s life. You’ve addressed him like he is a dull, unnoteworthy part of a collective, not even bothering to say his name while sporting the shittiest sneer he has ever seen. He’s pissed, and all he can do is stare in confusion. Despite his long going career as an instigator, this response (to his general existence and demeanor) is still somehow unique and, worse, effective.

When you let go of him, you withdraw your fingers from his face like he’s dirty. You shrug, then raise your hands in the air in a victorious manner, and you look happier than Isagi has ever seen you before. “Ta da. All eyes on me.”

But the shitshow doesn’t appear to be anywhere near over because while everyone else is frozen, you’re approaching him now, unperturbed by the attention you’re receiving as if it’s your birthright. Like you were made for the spotlight.

“Isagi, didn’t you say you were going to ‘devour’ me?” you ask once you’re right in front of him, your exterior growing more complacent by the minute. “Didn’t you challenge me? Seems to me like I’m too big for you to chew.”

If nothing else, though, unbeknownst to himself, Isagi, too, is insane. He has unreasonable amounts of determination and loves when things get difficult just so he can chase the satisfaction of overcoming them, among his other eccentricities. “This was just one match. We’re one for one now. I’ll defeat all of-”

“What are you two doing?!” Ness asks through a tight, passive aggressive smile. You hadn’t noticed him closing in on you, too high on your own power trip. He grabs you both, one shoulder in each hand, and squeezes with a death grip. “Do you think this is your show? This is Kaiser’s team, not the figure-out-which-good-for-nothing-is-slightly-better team. Either behave and follow the rules, or face the consequences.”

“Good for nothing? Shut up, little midfielder, you’re too scared to stand on your own feet, so you have to degrade yourself as Kaiser’s boytoy instead. I guess his shadow is a comfortable spot to hide in with how enormous his head is,” Isagi says. His tone is so matter of fact, it leaves minimal room for argument.

“He’s good, though. I can see potential in him to be almost as good as Sae. I want you to pass to me, too, Ness. Right? You can emphasize my star qualities with yours, can’t you, Ness? I can shine on you. It’s fine by me.”

It’s like two predatory animals are staring him down, trying to gauge his taste through smell alone — you with your fake innocent, curious expression, and Isagi, who doesn’t seem to realize he spewed vitriolic insults with the nonchalance of a weather cast announcement.

For sure both of you would’ve gotten a broken ankle each the way Ness is gritting his teeth right now, but emerging out of his stupor, Kaiser intervenes. And when Kaiser speaks, he commands Ness’s full attention, rendering him speechless. He pushes Ness out of the way, deeming this a fitting way to insert himself in the conversation. Then he looks you in the eyes with a… smirk? Isagi was hoping his dolour would last a little longer. “I figured out what your role is.”

“I’m not interested in starring in movies made by incompetent directors.”

“You’re going to be my love interest,” declares Kaiser, not at all fazed by your dismissal. “I’m not that bad,” he continues, because naturally, nice people always have to declare themselves as such. “I can recognize when someone has skills. You’re my darling in distress, and I need to save you from the peasantry of Blue Lock, so your talent can flourish. That’s your role.”

You continue observing him with mild amusement like what he told you was normal. Meanwhile, Isagi is wondering if your stunt earlier gave Kaiser whiplash or vertigo or something. Maybe he went and snapped. Clearly, these aren’t words coming from a sound mind.

Even Ness, who at this point should to some degree expect Kaiser to be deranged, gasps. Whether at his audacity or lack of shame, it’s not clear.

“How unoriginal. Think of a better one.” You shoo him to decline the proposal. “Besides, you already know I’m more interested in your lapdog.”

“What?!” Ness calls out, now moving onto being offended. “Are you rejecting Kaiser? And you- me?! What?!”

Isagi’s entire face scrunches. Did this man seriously not even flinch after getting called a lapdog?

Apparently no longer finding this conversation a proper source of entertainment, you wave them off dismissively and walk away without sparing them a second glance. Isagi watches as Kaiser stares creepily at your retreating silhouette with this little infatuated(?) smile on his face.

What is this lunatic so happy about, anyway? Does he even realize he was the perpetrator of his own public humiliation ritual? Leave it to Kaiser not to understand that he embarrassed himself.

Ness runs after you, yelling objections, but at this point Isagi isn’t even listening. He doesn’t want to listen. Neither are you, if the way you’re picking your ear and not responding to him while ducking out of his way is anything to go by.

After everything cools down a little and everyone has scattered about, Bachira inches towards Isagi. Easy-going as ever, hands interlocked behind his head, he says, “You’re all psychos on your team, huh? Must be fun.”

Oh… Yes, Bachira witnessed all that… Everyone did. Isagi almost forgot. The vortex of the utter absurdity of this situation sucked him in for a second there.

___

Isagi doesn’t even bother removing his sweaty uniform before he approaches you, looking all determined. He can’t get it out of his head… Did you read him? Or was it a guess? You got there too fast, as if you foresaw what he was about to do before he even decided it. “How did you know I was going to pass to Kunigami?”

“Isagi, don’t ask me narrow-minded questions. We just had a match and I need to revitalize myself,” you tell him as if what you’re saying makes perfect sense. It’s like you make it a point to phrase everything in the oddest way possible.

“Narrow-minded? Could you stop being a pain in the ass and answer me?”

“Well, you weren’t about to pass to Kaiser, and you used to be buddies with the ginger. So, pray tell, where else could the ball go?”

Surely, it wasn’t as predictable as you’re making it out to be?

“You could’ve collided with them, lost your starter spot and cost us the game without even touching the ball. It wasn’t worth the risk.” Isagi isn’t really sure why he’s even saying this. It paid off for you, but he needs to understand the intricacies of all the ways his rivals are ahead of him just so he can overthrow them. You’re another mark on his football hit list.

“Since when are you so trifling? You’re losing me more and more by the minute here.”

“What are you even on about?”

“I’m a striker. I’m sublime. I score. And you’re asking me why I chose to score?”

Isagi tries to glean some hidden wisdom from this statement — there is none — but before he can at least offer a response, Yukimiya intrudes on your conversation by talking about something wholly irrelevant.

Yukimiya berates him. You fade into the background of this conflict, observing, while everyone else makes an attempt to de-escalate the argument. To make matters worse, Kaiser makes an obnoxious entrance and delivers a useless speech about how you all better follow him and blah, blah, blah.

“What a stupid thing to say,” you point out, taking a step forward as if to challenge him. Isagi doesn’t like that he has to bear witness to you and Kaiser making eye contact again. “We’re in Blue Lock. Would the world’s best settle for just surviving?”

“None of you will be the world’s best and I’m here to show you. By the way, I meant what I told you earlier. Don’t go fading into obscurity following the wrong king. I really can’t stand it when someone doesn’t know how to use their talent, and your talent would make a good accessory to mine.”

“The only king I obey is my desire.”

“You say that now, but I’ll get you in the end.”

“Did you walk in here half naked to try and seduce me? You jezebel…”

Isagi makes the wise decision to tune out the rest of your bickering with Kaiser for the sake of his ears and mental clarity. Still, he can tell there is something here which is evading him. If he can identify everyone’s priorities — Kaiser’s need to live out his emperor fantasy, and your hedonism, and Yukimiya’s dedication to his ideals — can he use this knowledge to his advantage and come out on top?

___

You’re fighting with Kaiser again. It’s not real fighting, though, is it? Isagi has become well-acquainted with all sorts of depravity since the beginning of his stay at Blue Lock — most often had been the victim of it, even — so he can recognize it with ease. Because of this, he pays you minimal attention during the unfortunate moment when he needs to waltz by.

But the next display of obscenity, he truly does not anticipate. He turns around the corner of the hallway on the way back to his room, and what does he realize he’s seeing? Ness peeking his head out from behind the corner to watch you go at it from a distance, that’s what. Why is he even doing this? He’s always doting on Kaiser, so it’s not like it’d be weird if he was there, up close and personal. He’s literally making it stranger than it needs to be.

“What are you doing?” Isagi blurts out, before he can think better of asking.

Ness startles. Apparently he’s been focusing so intensely on��� observing you and Kaiser, he didn’t register someone passing by a few inches away from him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before eventually coming up with, “I, uh… Um, I- I… Uh.”

Isagi almost lets it go, but then Ness says,

“Everyone has their… interests and passions, so… You can’t judge me.”

“Wait, this is an interest and a passion to you?”

“Um, I, uh.” Ness’s face contorts into that reflexive creepy smile Isagi has come to expect of him. “Yes. Now go away, you’re interrupting me.” Oh no, he’s becoming confident in his… Whatever this is.

Isagi exits the vicinity with an unnecessary amount of caution. He can’t tell if the feeling of someone’s gaze burning his back is just paranoia on his part.

___

Today’s bullshit: another one of your arguments is unfolding, and this time, Isagi doesn’t have the choice to feign ignorance. You’re supposed to be splitting up in two for a practice match. Obviously this devolved into an inane dispute about who the biggest hotshot is. Isagi, holding the glorious title of ‘captain of Team B,’ tries to follow the plot of this whole thing. Mainly to figure out a way to make you and Kaiser shut up and get on with the game already because your voices now automatically register as a cacophony in his head.

“I’m not going on your team unless I get to be the captain,” you say. “And Ness passes to me.”

“I won’t play midfielder if you’re center forward!” Ness protests.

“Come on. We’d be a hit together. Stop pretending.”

“You’re putting yourself on quite the high pedestal there,” Kaiser says. “Is the altitude messing with your head? Don’t give yourself vertigo now.”

“If you died on the field, I’d do a penalty kick while standing on your corpse.”

Leave it to you to escalate things for the sake of getting a reaction out of Ness. He shakes you by the shoulders back and forth while yelling something unintelligible as Kaiser snickers, maybe finding this to be an amusing or god forbid romantic mental image.

Why are they acting like children? Isagi holds back an audible groan or perhaps an onslaught of derogatory words. He’s not sure how to solve this, though. You’ve been going in circles for a few minutes now, and Kaiser got mad when you said you’d be on Isagi’s team, and Isagi got mad when you tried to steal his aforementioned prestigious title, too.

The debate of who the superior striker is — objectively it’s Kaiser, but Isagi admires your dedication to your delusions in the face of Ness’s sectarian wrath — continues. Then, it happens. Something awful to honor your skills.

“What did you call it, Yoichi? Devouring?” asks Kaiser, before turning his attention back to you, sly smile on his annoying face and all. Then he puts his stupid hand over your loony head and pushes it aside, giving a good view of your neck. “I think in that case, I might want to take a bite out of you.”

What…

Oh my god, Isagi thinks, stomach churning, and truly, he might vomit. The state of affairs has never been more dire than this. No way that demented freak just did this without any shame?!

You open your dumb mouth, probably to respond with a snarky remark (which will inevitably somehow make this ten times more inappropriate). Isagi won’t stand for this.

Interrupting you before you’ve even begun speaking, he points an accusatory finger at Kaiser first. “You’re a pervert. Not only are you a pervert, but you’re doing it right in front of everyone. All the time! What’s wrong with you?”

He stares at Isagi incredulously. “What?”

Next, you enter the line of fire. “And you try to provoke him into doing things like this on purpose! Just so you can embarrass him! You’re a pervert in a much more pretentious and obnoxious way. You’re enjoying this!”

“What the fuck,” you blurt out. This is the first time he’s heard you sound defensive. “No, I’m not. We aren’t doing anything.”

“Yeah, we aren’t doing anything,” Kaiser agrees. “Fuck off, Yoichi.”

Isagi ignores these protests. They’re futile, anyway. He knows he’s right. Even if he isn’t, all of you deserve this slander in his opinion. For a moment, Ness makes the mistake of assuming he’s been spared, but, “You’re the worst, though. You like it when they fight over you. You have no self-respect.”

“Wh- What?! But I didn’t even do anything!”

“Yeah, that’s the thing, suck-off.” Isagi grabs him by the wrist and tugs him over to his side, apparently having decided this is the answer. “You’re going to be on my team.” Then he glances at the two of you, and that part of his brain which he tries to ignore when he’s not on the field sends a spark of joy and satisfaction coursing through his veins at the unadulterated indignation on your faces. “Deal with each other, yeah? Since you’re so inseparable.”

Noa tells everyone to hurry up, and the rest of the spectators mutter in agreement before Ness can even regain his senses and put up a fight. His eyes are wide and glossy, his jaw is hanging, and he is looking at Kaiser and then at you and then back at Kaiser with the sadness of a character in a Shakespearean play.

Kaiser looks like he is about to pop several blood vessels.

You huff, cross your arms, and pout. Why does Isagi always win?!

___

Thyere so embarrassing omfg im laugihing so hard

[strnilolover]

.✦ ── Close Enough ── ✦.

♡ pairing : !clarinetist matt x !saxophonist reader

♡ summary : in which you and matt met your freshman year in high school in marching band. over the years you two grow inseparably close together.

⚠︎ warnings : fluff, flirting, light angst, high school setting, use of y/n, pet name (sweetheart : later on), cussing, friends to lovers, maybe slow burn?, and more.

part one here 01

-Beginning Of Freshman Year-

The band room was buzzing with first-day jitters. It was the first day of freshman year, and the air was thick with the excitement and anxiety of joining the marching band — a group that had loomed large over middle school with its storied traditions, late-night football games, and upperclassmen who seemed untouchable in their confidence.

The noise was overwhelming — horns testing notes, flutes trying scales, and the sharp commands of section leaders calling roll. You hovered near the back, gripping your saxophone case a little tighter than usual, scanning the room for anyone who might look as lost as you felt.

You didn’t find that person right away, but then you saw him.

He was leaning against a row of lockers, a clarinet case hanging loosely from one hand, looking like he had just wandered in by mistake. His brown hair was a bit of a mess, like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, and he wore an oversized hoodie with some sports team’s logo barely visible beneath the wrinkles. You couldn’t tell if he was completely uninterested or just trying not to let on that he was as nervous as everyone else.

You felt a little relieved; at least you weren’t the only one trying to figure out where to fit in. Taking a deep breath, you made your way over, weaving between clusters of freshmen who already seemed to know each other.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice barely cutting through the noise. The boy didn’t respond at first, so you repeated yourself, louder this time.

“Hey,” he glanced up, blue eyes meeting yours, eyebrows raising slightly. There was a quick flicker of something like amusement in his eyes, like he hadn’t expected anyone to approach him.

“Hi,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’m trying to figure out where the saxophones are supposed to go.” You gestured vaguely toward the chaos around you. “You look like you might know where you’re supposed to be.”

He chuckled—a low, easy sound—and it caught you off guard. “Yeah? I was just trying to not look completely lost.” He lifted his clarinet case slightly, as if it explained everything. “Clarinet section,” he added, almost like an afterthought.

“Ah, got it.” You nodded, feeling a little less awkward now that he wasn’t brushing you off. “I’m new, obviously.”

“Yeah, same here,” he said, his tone casual, like it didn’t bother him to admit it. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Matt,” you replied, offering a small smile. “I’m y/n” you gave your name, feeling a bit silly for worrying about it so much. “Guess we’re both trying to figure out where we fit in, huh?”

“Seems like it,” he agreed. He adjusted his hold on the clarinet case, glancing around like he was taking stock of the room. “You ever done marching band before?”

“Nope,” you admitted, shaking your head. “I mean, I’ve played sax for a while, but marching and playing? Not so much.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “Same. I heard it’s supposed to be intense, though.”

“That’s what everyone says,” you muttered, suddenly aware of how heavy your sax case felt in your grip. You shifted your weight, trying to figure out what else to say before this brief interaction drifted into that awkward silence you always dreaded.

Before you could think of anything, the section leader—a tall senior with a whistle around his neck—barked out instructions, telling everyone to find their sections.

You and Matt exchanged a quick look, both of you hesitating for a second longer than everyone else, and it was just enough to solidify something unspoken between the two of you. You felt it—a subtle understanding that you were both out of your depth.

“Good luck,” you said with a slight grin, adjusting your hold on your saxophone.

“You too,” Matt replied, before the corners of his mouth twitched up. “If you get lost, just look for me in the back. That’s where all the clarinets hide.”

You laughed a little, surprised by his dry humor. “Got it. I’ll keep an eye out for the guy pretending to know what he’s doing.”

“Hey, pretending is half the battle,” he deadpanned before turning toward his section.

A small smile tugged at your lips, watching as he walked away before you pivoted on your own feet. Pushing your body through other students — some in the same grade and others upperclassmen.

You bumped into a few people on your way to your section, muttering small ‘sorry’s’ under your breath as you finally — finally made it to where the other saxophonist’s were at. It wasn’t a giant group but then again, when have people really wanted to play the saxophone.

You found a seat, sitting down as you set your things in front of yourself. Your eyes scanning the room the see where that boy — Matt — had gone to sit down at. After a few moments, your eyes landed on the same blue ones you were staring into moments ago.

He was already looking at you, a smile tugging at his lips when your eyes connected with his. You smiled back, waving slightly. He raised his hand, waving back at you.

You had a feeling this year was going to go by just fine.

© strnilolover

♡ a/n : i think i’m going to make this into a little series!! this was requested/inspired by @victorriaaaaa (disclaimer!! i have never written a series before and know barely anything about marching band, so if i do continue it, bear with me!!)