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ja3yun · 2 months

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Out of My League | S.JY

footballer!jake x fem footballer!reader

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

w.c: 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or?” he prompts, curiosity piqued.

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

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

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

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

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

_____

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#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #aj writes #enha x reader

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end-of--the-line · 2 years

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#rotting clementines #me when im a little too honest for a little too long so i have to ironically redistance myself from everyone i know #to re-establish my awesome borderline safety net #they call me a gamer because im always winning 😎😎💪💪👍🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿👍#ok sorry the scottish flag was not supposed to be tjere #scotland forever tho

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runningthroughthegarden · 5 months

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dumb young love

1.9k words, summary: when art leaves you in the dust for tashi, a part of you breaks. after an argument art realizes how desperately in love he is with you.

request from @fangirlinc :)

you had gone and done the one thing everyone had warned you not to do. you had fallen in love with your best friend. i mean how could you not? he was handsome, charming, talented, funny, everything you could want in a man and more. you both had such bright futures ahead of you and just loved being in each others company. which is why you never felt the need to profess your love to him. but lately you've been rethinking this choice.

you obviously knew how close art and patrick were, i mean you guys all practically grew up with each other. this dynamic never really bothered you, why would it? that all changed once tashi came into the picture.

you had been there, at the match where it all started. you had come to support them like you always had, but within those few days something had shifted and you had no idea why. suddenly the boys were ditching you to go to a party you didn't even know they cared about.

they had come back to you the next day, raving about how amazing tashi was and the night they spent together. you noticed a glint in art’s eye that wasn't there before, and you tried your hardest to suppress the jealousy you were feeling.

that day, when patrick won the match, you couldn't help but feel relieved that art would remain yours just for a little longer. what you didn't realize is that art didnt care if patrick was with tashi, because he was still head over heels for her.

“hey are we gonna have dinner tonight?” you ask, throwing another tennis ball over the net.

“yeah, just gotta get back to my room and shower” art replies, hitting back the ball with a distraught look on his face.

“is it tashi?” you sigh.

“what? no-no. i'm just stressed about my next match” he replies, walking over to the bench.

“you're art donaldson. you’re never stressed about a match. c'mon just tell me” you say as you walk over to him.

“its just. patrick called and all he can fucking talk about is how amazing tashi is. and then i walk around campus and all i hear is how amazing tashi is. no matter what i do i can’t escape her.” he confesses, putting his head in his hands.

“i can’t imagine you ever wanting to escape her” you reply, letting out a forced laugh.

“what?”

“cmon art, from the day you lost that match it’s like your entire world changed or something. i mean all of a sudden your whole life revolves around this girl” you scoff.

“y/n i really don’t need this shit from you, i’ll see you later” he scoffs, picking up his bag and leaving the court.

“art!” you call out, only for him to leave you there alone.

standing there you think back to when everything was fine. how art would link his pinky with yours as you walked. the way he would call you everyday when he had to travel for matches. the nights you spent in his dorm trying to cram week's worth of studying into one night. the way he would so effortlessly plant kisses to your forehead. the moments you thought he might actually be in love with you. but now all you had were those memories.

before you knew it, all art was doing was hanging out and helping tashi train. he had been your training partner first, so it hurt like hell to be left in the dust. you decided to try and let it go and focus on winning your matches. your most important match was coming up and you couldn't let your silly love life get in the way. the one person you had always dreamed of being coached by was going to be at your match. so you knew you had to train like crazy to get to work with them.

a part of you was hoping maybe art would see how amazing your match would be, and finally start paying attention to you again. but you knew you were holding onto false hope.

the day of your match had finally come, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. this was such an important moment for your career and you couldn't shake those nerves. but you knew seeing art up in the stands would give you the boost of confidence you needed.

the first set was about to start and you still didn’t see art in the stands. you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought that he might not show up. he would never do that to you. right?

the first set had started and for a moment, the world around you started to fade. you may have hated tashi, but man was she right about tennis. you were performing flawlessly and you knew all the hard work was finally going to pay off.

after winning your first set, you go back to your seat, taking a breather and still scanning the crowd for art. he was still nowhere to be found and you could feel your sadness turning into anger. deciding to use that as fuel, you prepare yourself for your next set. the rest of the game goes flawlessly and you know this is the best you have ever played.

hitting the winning point, you stand in shock as cheers come from the stands. thanking your opponent you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face. that is until you spot art in the stands. you could feel all the anger and resentment you suppressed fighting to be released. this had been your best game yet, and there art was, to ruin it.

packing up your bag, you felt a presence behind you. all spectators and coaches were long gone so you knew exactly who was behind you. turning around to face art, you push past him not wanting to hear a word he has to say.

“y/n please i-” art calls out, quickly catching up with you.

“you what art?!” you yell, turning around to face him.

“you forgot? you had homework? you lost track of time? oh better yet, maybe you were with tashi?” you continue, looking up at him. you could feel hot tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

he stays silent and thats all the answer you need.

“oh my god you were” you whisper, stepping back from him.

“please just let me explain” art pleads, a look of desperation you’d never seen before.

“today was the most important day to me. and i really thought that as my best friend you would at least care a little more. but i know where your priorities lay. and i'm done fighting for a spot i’ll never get” you say as tears quickly spill onto your cheeks.

art’s hand reaches up to brush away your tears, but you step back.

“stay the fuck away from me art” you choke out, quickly walking back to your room.

the next few days were hell. spending each day crying in your bed, you had lost not only the love of your life but your best friend. you had gotten a call offering to be coached by someone you could only ever dream of working with. you should’ve felt happy, ecstatic even, but the last conversation you had with art was still ringing through your head. he had called you far too many times and texted you even more. but you had ignored every single one. the first day he came knocking on your door, but gave up after an hour of waiting. the apology flowers he had sent you sat on your desk. you had no idea what you were going to do. until, you got a text from patrick.

patrick

hi love, art told me about what happened im sorry.

y/n

hi, you don’t have to apologize for him being stupid

patrick

do you want to hang out today? try to get your mind off of him

y/n

actually i would love to

patrick

meet me outside at 2

getting ready to see patrick was a highlight from these past few days. while you were enjoying your sulking you knew you had to get out at some point. going out to the courtyard, you see patrick sitting on a picnic blanket. your favorite foods and snacks were neatly laid next to him. you felt yourself genuinely smiling for the first time in a really long time. you spent the next hour eating your favorite meal and laughing at stupid shit with patrick. although your heart still hurt, you could feel your spirits rising.

“thank you for this patrick, it’s all so lovely” you smile.

“of course i’ll always be here for you” he gleams, pushing away the hair around your face and leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“what the fuck?!”

you would recognize that voice anywhere.

“art what are you doing here?” patrick stands up to face him.

“oh i dont know maybe i go to school here? what the fuck are you doing here patrick?!” he replies, getting closer to patrick.

“seriously y/n? you run off to patrick?” he questions, obviously distraught but you can't seem to place why.

“hey you don’t get to blame her for this” patrick replies.

“oh fuck off patrick would you let her speak”

grabbing arts hand, you quickly lead him away from the public spectacle this was all becoming.

“what the hell is wrong with you art?” you yell, shutting your room door.

“i mean, you completely forgot about me for some other girl and now you're mad at me? none of this makes sense, you broke my heart. you don't get to be angry.” you continue, feeling tears brim your eyes.

he paces for a second, running his hands through the curls you missed so much.

“im in love with you” he stops, looking down at you.

it felt like you were dreaming, like you were imagining the words that just came out of his mouth.

“i always have been. i've just been so stupid about it. when tashi came around i threw myself at her because i thought there was no way you would ever feel that way towards me. and i know i fucked up by doing that, i really really fucked up. but when i picture my life i see you, i've only ever seen you. and seeing you with patrick, i was scared i lost you. i'm sorry y/n, i really am. i would do anything to take it back.” he confesses.

“you’re so stupid!” you yell, pushing his shoulders.

“ive been in love with you for like, forever!” you look up at him, confused as to how he never realized.

“really?” he asks, pure shock all over his face.

“yes! i thought it was obvious” you frown.

before you knew it he was holding your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your lips. in that moment everything felt right, like the stars had aligned.

“y’know i'm still mad at you” you look up at him, placing your hands over his.

“trust me, i will do everything to make it up to you. i'm just glad you're finally mine” he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face as he kissed you again.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #challengers

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hazelfoureyes · 7 months

Text

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder.

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest, hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you.

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises.

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands.

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time–

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls.

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt.

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected.

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

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wsoc-gay · 3 months

Text

Hurt

Leah Williamson x Reader

Summary: You're a sergeant in the British Army and after breaking some promises it begins to effect yours and Leah's marriage, risking your relationship with your daughter.

A/N: I dont love how the ending of this came out, but nonetheless 10k words of angst with a hint of fluff. As always put your requests in my asks!

Based on this request

You were ten years old when you met Leah for the first time. She was a thin, tall girl, with sandy blonde hair, and a fringe blowing in her eyes. You were trialing with the Arsenal Academy, having just moved to London. Leah had already been an established player on the team, having played for a few years, but they encouraged all their current players to attend the trial. The first thing she noticed about you was the goalkeeper gloves covering your hands, not many girls your age were willing to play keeper, not to mention enjoyed it. Leah certainly didn’t fancy herself a time in net, frankly she would do anything to avoid going in, she thought you were weird for liking it. The next thing she noticed was that you were taller than her, at that age Leah was always the tallest on the team, she thought it was weird you were so tall.

After a few practices, Leah started to pick up on how fiercely competitive you were, similar to how she was. Most of the girls on your team didn’t care about winning in training and would rather have a good time with their mates, but Leah could see the look in your eye, the way you clenched your jaw, and how you would rapidly open and close your hands after each shot that slipped past you, being trapped by the netting behind you. She liked that about you, how badly you wanted to win at everything you did, this shared passion for winning is what first sparked your friendship.

You weren’t used to having friends, never staying in one place for long enough to make any. Your dad was a captain in the British Army, meaning by your young age you had already lived in more countries than you could remember. This move was different though, you knew you weren’t going to be packing up soon and leaving, this time was for good. This time was for good because your dad was no longer in the Army, he wasn’t even your dad anymore, he was killed on a random Tuesday, in a country you couldn’t pronounce, on what he promised was his last deployment.

It was after dinner time when two men, dressed in the suit your dad wore when he married your mom, knocked on your door. You parents taught you never to open the door for strangers, but when you looked out the window and saw the men in uniforms you assumed they were friends with your dad.

You opened the door and looked up at the tall men, “My daddy isn’t home right now, he’s on a work trip,” they always called his deployments ‘work trips’, your parents didn’t want you to know the seriousness of what he was doing so they settled on calling his deployments his work trips.

The man on the right had a soft smile as he bent down to your level, “We’re actually here to talk with your mum, is she here?”

You nodded your head quickly and turned to go get her. As soon as you turned around you saw her standing in the doorway, a horrified expression on her face. You weren’t sure why she looked so scared it was just your dad’s friends. She knew what they were there for, the horrifying reality of many military spouses and family members. This was something she had nightmares about since he started deploying. A repeating nightmare of men coming to her door to tell her the love of her life was dead.

“Go to your room sweetie,” your mom told you breathlessly.

You gave her a confused look, but before you could ask why she sternly repeated herself. You ran up the stairs, knowing she really meant it, but you didn’t go to your room, you sat hiding behind the wall at the top of the stairs. You tried listening to what the men were saying, but you didn’t hear anything until the gut wrenching sobs that escaped your mom.

You ran down the steps and attached yourself to your mom’s side, not knowing why she was so sad, but knowing she needed you. She pulled you into a tight hug and continued to sob into you.

Later that night when her sobs softened, she pulled you onto the couch and told you what the men had told her, that your dad died. You tried your best to stay strong for your mom, but you couldn’t help the sobs that wrecked your small body.

It had been a few months since you saw your dad, but after you found out about his passing the only thing you could remember was the last thing he told you, “Look after your mom for me, she gets sad when I’m gone. I’m always proud of you baby.”

Your dad told you to look after your mom and that is exactly what you did. You held her while she cried after work, this happened every night for months. And after you held her, she would send you to bed and there you could cry. You never let your mom see you upset, you thought it would make everything harder for her, so you cried to yourself at night.

For a long time, you were sad, your dad was your hero, you always wanted to be just like him. Leah helped when you were sad, it made you feel better and distracted you from thinking about your dad when the two of you hung out. You and Leah lived in different neighborhoods and when to different primary schools when you were young, but every day you would get off at her bus stop and walk over to her house. Your mom was a nurse, she worked long days in the hospital, oftentimes not getting home until after you had already finished training.

So, saying you hung out with Leah a lot was an understatement, you’d go to her house after school, drive together to training, then go back to her house and wait for your mom came to get you. You didn’t see you mom much, but whenever you did, she was not in a good mood, either about to go into or just come off a long shift. She was always angry when she’d pick you up from Leah’s. She was angry until you got home, she took a seat on your couch with her special drink, and eventually fall asleep. Before you went to bed you’d turn the tv off and cover her in a blanket.

You loved your mom and knew everything she was doing was for you, but you couldn’t help but miss your dad. You would never dare tell you mom about how much you missed him, remembering back to the last time you did and being met with a slap across your face that kept your cheek red for nearly three days. You told her how sad you were and how much you missed him, and she started yelling about how she missed him more than you and that you would never understand how much she missed him. The alcohol was clear on her breath, but you didn’t notice at that age.

The next day you told Leah and her mom that you had tripped in the garden, Leah believed you, but even though her mom wasn’t so sure she let you on your way, making sure to keep an extra close eye on your mood the next few days. It was hard to tell if anything was different with you, since you got to London you had become much better at hiding your feelings. You wanted to look after your mom so you wouldn’t let her see you sad. You also didn’t want to talk about your feelings, so you hid it from everyone. You got horribly used to keeping your feelings to yourself, so you would just bottle them up, hoping no one would notice. Your dad was a strong man, you never saw him cry and you wanted to be just like him, so no one would see you cry.

Even as you got older and didn’t need to spend as much time at Leah’s, now being old enough to stay home alone, you still found yourself taking the bus to Leah’s neighborhood and spending afternoons before training there. Oddly enough the older you got the earlier your mom was getting out of work, you’d arrive home from training to see her passed out on the couch, with a bottle of whatever her alcohol of choice was that day on the table beside her.

You would put your stuff away in your room before cooking dinner, eating your serving, plating your mother’s to put on the table aside her for whenever she woke up, and then would go to your room for the night. You didn’t like to hang around for when your mother woke up, whenever you were there, she would find something to yell at you about. Nothing you could do would be good enough for her and then she’d drag your dad into it, telling you how you would never make him proud. Having heard her say that to you since the day he died you decided you’d join the army as soon as you were of age, you know that would make him proud.

You were fifteen when you were drunk at a party and kissed Leah. You had been harboring feelings for her for a few years at that point. When you were younger you weren’t sure what those feelings were, having never had many friends you assumed you just liked her as a friend. As you got older, and people started dating you realized that you were falling for the blonde girl. It was easy to hide for a while, you both always hung out and you were able to hide those feelings like you did with any other feeling.

However, that night under the influence of a bit of alcohol you couldn’t hold in those feelings anymore. When you kissed her, she was shocked for a moment, but quickly kissed you back. She had been feeling the same way for a while but didn’t think you saw her that way. You started dating a week later and had been together ever since.

You were in the stands when Leah made her debut for the full team at 17 and she was there for you the day you graduated your final phase of training at 18. Leah wasn’t necessarily overjoyed at the prospect of you joining the Army, but you had talked about since the day you met, and she was never going to stand in the way of what was your dream. She was going to stand by your side through it as you were doing it for her.

You got married ten years into your relationship, a beautiful ceremony just outside London, surrounded by your friends, co-workers, and families. You were dressed in dressed blues adorned with medals you were oh so proud of as Leah looked astonishing in her elegant white gown.

You both were 30 when Leah won the World Cup, however, you weren’t there to witness it. Instead of being there to witness history being made you were halfway through a deployment to the Middle East watching the games on the rare occasion you had access to the internet.

When you arrived home four months later, you and Leah went on holiday to celebrate your homecoming and her world victory. You were sat at a nice dinner to celebrate the last day of a lovely holiday when Leah told you she wanted to have a baby. It was a conversation you had before, both of you knew you wanted kids, but you didn’t want to get pregnant and at the time Leah wasn’t sure if she would be willing to put her career on hold to have a baby. But now, after having completed international football, she decided she was ready to pause her career and fulfil both of your dreams.

It was the perfect time to have a baby, Leah didn’t have any major international tournaments the following year and you had just gotten home from a deployment and likely wouldn’t be sent away for at least a few more years. You started the IVF process as soon as you arrived home from holiday and after two rounds were officially expecting a baby girl. Amelia Lily Y/L/N Williamson was born on a sunny September day and was immediately your entire world.

The next time you were deployed was when Amelia was 2 years old, you told her the same thing your mom used to tell you about your father, that you were going on a work trip. 8 months later when you came home Amelia had a rough time adjusting to you being back in the home, clearly affected by your absence.

The fighting with Leah started soon after you came home, it wasn’t every night and was never anything physical, but you and Leah would argue about your career. You were lucky that you hadn’t been stationed outside of England since 24, but the deployments every few years took a toll on your relationship. She had been asking about you leaving the Army since you got married, she wanted you home more, and didn’t want to be having to worry about you possibly dying overseas in the same manner your father did.

It was 2 weeks after you had gotten home, and Amelia still wasn’t quite used to you being there yet. She wouldn’t let you handle bath time alone, wouldn’t let you play with her, and wouldn’t let you put her to bed without Leah there as well.

You were sat on the edge of Amelia’s bed, attempting to read her a story before she went to bed, but she wouldn’t calm down, “I want Mama,” the small girl cried pushing a hand against your chest.

You ran a hand through her blonde hair, “Mama will be here soon, lovie, I’m just going to get started on your story while we wait for her.”

She clenched her fists and pounded them into her bed, “I don’t want Mummy bedtime story, I want Mama bedtime story,” the small girl cried.

Since you got home you and Leah had tried to give you more one on one time with Amelia, hoping that she would get more used to you being around, but every time you tried it ended this same way. Leah wasn’t busy right now, she was sat on the couch in your living room, hoping to remain there until she heard the story finish. Leah had done the beginning of Amelia’s nighttime routine, her bath, her teeth, getting her dressed, but hoped that she’d allow for you to handle the story.

You sighed and looked to your daughter with pleading eyes, “I’m reading the same story Mama reads you, Mama will be here soon, but we’re just going to read the story,” you held up the book to show her the familiar cover page.

She flipped onto her stomach and dug her head into her pillow crying, “I don’t want you Mummy, I want Mama.”

You sighed, the guilt of seeing your daughter like this after your absence was eating you alive. You knew how hard she took it when Leah left for weekend away trips, but you never expected her to act like this upon your return. You had expected her to be excited to see you home, knowing you both were always close. Ever since she was born, she loved being with you. After Leah would feed her, you would take your daughter to burp and then she’d fall asleep against your chest, one hand gripped to your shirt and cuddled as close to you as possible. She always loved being in your arms, even as she grew your arms were huge around her, she always felt so safe with you, anytime she was upset everything seemed to melt away the second she was in your strong arms.

You sat there rubbing your hands over your face when Amelia began kicking her feet into her mattress, “I want Mama, Mama doesn’t leave me,” now she was screaming.

You sighed rubbing a hand on her back, “I don’t like leaving you sweetie, but I have to for work.”

“Mama leaves on work trips and Mama comes home. You leave for work trips, and you don’t come home,” the small girl continued was sobbing into her pillow.

It broke your heart to hear your little girl like this. From your own experience you remember how hard it was having your father leave on his deployments, but you don’t remember ever getting to the extent that you saw your daughter right now. You were always overjoyed the minute your dad got home, you’d be waiting at the base for him and jumping into his arms as soon as he reached you. You wouldn’t let him out of your sights for weeks after he’d return, too scared that he’d disappear again.

You couldn’t help but feel like you failed her, this little girl and her mom were your whole world and you felt like you failed them both. Here you were sat on the edge of a little bed, staring into small eyes identical to those of the love of your life as she laid in bed sobbing because you were sat next to her.

You sighed and had you head in your hands when suddenly you heard a familiar voice in the doorway, “Mama is here now let’s read your bedtime story.”

Leah walked around to the opposite side of the toddler bed and sat on the edge, one hand rubbing down your daughters back, “Would you like to read your story now?” she asked the toddler.

You and Leah looked at each other confused as you heard a quiet mumbling into the pillow, neither of you sure what she had said, “What was that, lovie? Can you speak up, please?” you softly asked.

She turned her head to face your wife and grabbed her sleeve, “I don’t want Mummy here for story time. Just want Mama.”

Your heart broke all over again as you heard her words, Leah looked to you with tired and heartbroken eyes, before she spoke, “It’s okay sweetie, we can do our usual story time with Mummy.”

Amelia dug her head back into the pillow as she repeatedly shook her head no.

Leah went to speak again, but you cut her off putting your hand up, “It’s okay Le, I’ll go,” you leaned down to place a kiss on your daughter’s head, “I love you, lovie, sleep well,” you stood up and walked out of the room not before looking back from the doorway and seeing Amelia roll over and cuddle into Leah’s side.

The first dew nights you understood that she was upset, and over your calls with Leah, knew it was going to take some getting used to for the 3-year-old. However, you never expected it to drag out this long. She used to love you reading to her before bed, she’d cuddle into your side while Leah read to her, almost always falling asleep in your arms.

You dragged yourself down the halls and into your shared bedroom with Leah. You changed into a pair of shorts and an old, oversized army hoodie. You went into the bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror for a while. Every time you came home from a deployment you looked to have aged about 5 years, you were only 33, but by the dark circles under your eyes, and the stress wrinkles covering your face, people could’ve guessed you were well into your 40s.

Deployments were always hard, out in the sun all day, working all day, not sleeping well, and being away from Leah. This deployment was a lot worse than the others, not only being away from Leah, but also Amelia took a large not toll on you, and to make it worse it was a rough deployment. Your troop was sent on more missions than you had ever experienced on a deployment before, you were stationed in a high combat area. Multiple soldiers under your command had died in combat and being their sergeant, you took their deaths especially hard. You felt like you were the reason these soldiers weren’t going to return to their families.

Your PTSD was also worse than ever before. You’ve had it since your early deployments, but it never went past a few nightmares, now it wasn’t just at night, you were starting to have panic attacks. They would come without warning, you were at the park with Leah and Amelia yesterday afternoon when a loud scream in the distance sent your mind back to the battlefield, you suddenly were shoving your wife and daughter behind your back, wanting to protect them from whatever caused the screams. Amelia was terrified seeing you like that and it took Leah nearly 20 minutes to calm you down and convince you that they were safe.

You remember when this used to happen to your dad, you didn’t realize what it truly was at the time, but now you understand. It would take you mom a while to calm him down, but you weren’t scared of him when it happened, you knew that he was only ever doing it to protect you. Amelia didn’t see it this way, all she saw was you panicking trying to protect her and Leah. It put Leah in a complicated spot, trying to calm you down while also trying to convince your daughter that you were okay.

Your hands were leaning against the counter and your head hanging low when you felt a hand rubbing your back, you looked up in the mirror to see Leah’s face reflected right behind your shoulder, “She go down alright, once I finally left?”

Leah sighed, “It’s not like that-”

You cut her off before she could continue, “Yes, it is, Leah, our daughter hates me,” you turned away from the counter and walked into your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Leah followed you into the room sat next to you placing a hand on your thigh, “She doesn’t hate you, y/n, she-”

You sharply cut her off again, “She’s just getting used to it, I know Leah, but I never had to get used to my dad being home, not like this. I was overjoyed when he was home, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight when he came home. He was my best friend, my hero, and I thought that’s how Amelia saw me, but clearly, I was wrong.”

Leah sighed rubbing circles into your thigh, “I wasn’t going to say that” she sent you a small glare, “So stop interrupting me,” you nodded, “I was going to tell you that she cried almost every night for the first month. She wanted to know where you were, she didn’t understand why you weren’t coming home and I didn’t know what to tell her,” Your wife sighed, “Every away match when she’d come with me, she would be so angry the whole trip, constantly complaining about how she was missing out on her Mummy and Amelia days. She missed you, love, she missed you so much she didn’t know how to handle it. She is mad that you left that’s why she’s taking it so hard.”

You wiped a hand over your face, “Well, what am I supposed to do about that now? She was mad that I left, I get that, but I’m home now and I’m trying, and she hardly lets me see her.”

The blonde defender rubbed her hand over your thigh, “You can try apologizing to her. Tell her that you’re sorry for leaving and that you won’t be leaving like that again.”

“You know I can’t tell her that, Leah. I may not be leaving soon, but eventually I’ll have to leave again.”

“Or you don’t have to leave again?”

You scoffed, “You know I can’t just tell the Army not to deploy me, I’ll have to leave again.”

Leah sighed and looked towards her feet, “I’m trying to say that maybe you should think about stepping away from the Army.”

You laughed, “That’s funny, love, leaving the Army,” You looked towards her and saw the serious look on her face, “You’re not kidding, are you?”

Her blue eyes met yours, “No, I’m not kidding.”

“I’m not leaving the Army, end of story.”

“You’re not even going to talk about it?”

You pushed yourself off the bed and turned to face the England captain, “There’s nothing to talk about, I’m not leaving the Army.”

Leah stood up and walked towards you a stern look and tone in her voice, “Why won’t you talk about it? Do you not care about your relationship with Amelia?”

You took a step back and pointed a finger towards her, “Don’t you dare bring her up. You know this has nothing to do with her.”

“How does it have nothing to do with her? You’re seeing now the consequences your career is having on her,” Your wife started to raise her voice, “This has everything to do with her, you’re destroying your relationship with her.”

You knew she had a point, that your career was affecting your relationship with your daughter. Anyone could tell that you leaving was affecting her, but what you failed to notice was how it also affected Leah. You never thought about how hard it was on her, she was always so excited to hear from you while you were away and celebrated every time you came home, it never crossed your mind how hard you being away was on her.

She noticed your hesitancy to answer, and you saw her seem to draw in on herself, she spoke softly, “And it’s not only affecting your relationship with her,” the blonde defender looked down at her feet.

“What are you trying to say, that my career is affecting us?”

Leah looked at you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Of course it is.”

You looked at her and your expression dropped, “You never mentioned anything.”

Tears began to peak in her eyes, “I didn’t think I had to mention anything. I’ve been worrying about you over the course of your deployments for over ten years,” she wiped a tear as it began to fall, “Everyday you’re there I am absolutely terrified. Every time you reschedule a call because you’re going out, I stay awake for days, unable to sleep because I’m so worried sick over you,” the tears began falling harder, “Every there’s a knock on the door I’m terrified that I’m going to open it to the same thing your mom did when your dad died.”

“Don’t mention my dad to use him against me.”

She gasped, “I’m not using him against you. I’m trying to get you to understand why I think you should leave the military. I’m trying to get you to see it through my eyes, the eyes that are worried sick of her wife, the mother of her child, dying in a sandpit overseas.”

“Have I ever asked you to quit football?” you sharply asked.

Leah’s voice was raised now, “How is this the same as football?”

Your tone matched hers, “You’re gone all day at training and then leave for days at a time, I go on deployment once every few years, Leah.”

She scoffed again, “You’re gone once every few years for nearly a year at a time. And I know while I’m at football you’re not worried about me dying.”

You turned and began to walk out of the room, “I’m not leaving the Army, that’s final.”

Leah yelled out as you reached the doorway, “Please just think about it. Think about how much better our life could be with you at home, think about how this is affecting all of us.”

You nodded before turning and leaving Leah in the middle of your room, tears streaming down her face.

The truth was you thought about it, for about thirty seconds. You knew you weren’t going to leave the Army. While you heard everything Leah had said and hated the way she felt about the situation you knew that you weren’t going to leave the career you had made. The career you were so proud of, the life that you knew your dad would be proud of.

---

Now, two years later you stood in your kitchen, sobs wrecking from your wife after you just told her you would be deploying again in two weeks’ time. While Leah knew it was a longshot to get you to leave the Army two years ago, she thought that you would think it over and come around before they would get the chance to deploy you again.

She thought you would think about her, about Amelia, and realize that the right decision was to leave. She hoped that her retirement from football last year would spark something in you, but evidently it didn’t.

The strong former defender looked tiny as she leaned against the counter, her body wrecked by sobs, “Why are you doing this to us?”

Your hands were dug through your hair, “I’m not doing anything to us. This isn’t about our family it is about my career.”

Leah stood up and pushed her two hands against your chest, “This has everything to do with us, you’re leaving us again. I thought that you would finally stand up and choose me and your daughter over the Army, but clearly, I was wrong.”

“I’m not choosing anything over anyone. I’m going to war, to fight, and protect you. I am not choosing the Army over you; I’m choosing the Army for you.”

Leah’s sobs were lessened by her raised voice, “If you were choosing something for me, for us, you would’ve left the Army two years ago when your daughter could hardly look at you for months.”

She was right, it had taken Amelia nearly four months of you being home, to get over the betrayal she felt by your absence. It wrecked you seeing her like that, for so long, but the only thing you had at that time was the Army. Your career never turned its back on you, it celebrated your devotion, and you sacrifice. The only thing that helped you feel better during that time was going to work and knowing you were making a difference.

You lowered your voice, hoping to calm the situation, “I need to do this, love. You know what my career means to me.”

Leah’s expression was still cold, “Don’t call me that while you’re telling me that you’re choosing work over me.”

You slammed your fist against the countertop, “How many times do I need to tell you that I’m not choosing work over you. Nothing is more important to me than my family and the Army.”

Her hands covered her face, “Why is your family at the same level as your job? I would never have chosen football over you and our daughter. I gave up my career for a year just to have her.”

Your expression was stern and portrayed little emotions, “The Army is my family-”

The blonde cut you off, shoving you back again, “Stop saying that me and Amelia mean no more to you than the Army. In no world should your family be at the same level as your job.”

Now you were angry, “This isn’t just my job this is my life, this is my father’s legacy. I am committing myself to the same thing he did. I am living the life that he gave his entire existence to.”

“And do you want to die before you see your daughter turn ten?”

You sucked in a tight breath, “Don’t you dare say that to me.”

She gasped, “That’s the truth. It’s the harsh reality and it is the reason why you need to choose us over your job.”

“I’m not leaving the Army; I’ll be home in nine months and when I get home then, and we have this same conversation my answer will not change,” your cold expression never faltered.

She sighed and spoke the quietest since the beginning of the argument, “Then I’m leaving you.”

Your head whipped towards her, “What did you just say?”

More confidently this time, “I am leaving you and I’m taking Amelia with me. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“We’ve been together for 20 years you can’t just leave me.”

Leah leaned back against the counter, “And for the first 17 years I thought that me and our daughter came first. The last three years you’ve made it painfully obvious that isn’t true and I’m not going to raise my daughter in that environment.”

You crossed your arms, “I love you, Leah, I have for the past 20 years. I love Amelia and I have since the second she was born. You can’t leave me.”

You walked towards where Leah stood and reached to grab her hand. Your wife slipped away from the counter and crossed to the other side of the kitchen, “I know you love us, and you know that I love you too, but we can’t keep coming second to your career.”

“You don’t come second you-”

Leah cut you off, “Were on the same level, I know you’ve been telling me for years. I’m not going to put up with it anymore. Your family is supposed to come first and clearly, you’re not capable of that, so I’m done. You can try and fight it if you want, but I want to handle this between us. You know what is best for Amelia, you know that she is better off with me,” you just looked at her, unable to speak, “I’m going to pick her up from school, I hope you’re gone when I get back.”

“You’re not even going to let me say goodbye?”

Leah knew this meant that you agreed to her terms, you would give her full custody of your daughter. As much as it hurt, you knew that Leah was right. She would be able to give her the better life, Amelia would miss you for the first few months, but just like your last deployment, she would get over it and she would settle into her new life.

“You’re right, but you’re not staying here tonight. You can say goodbye during bedtime, but I want you gone before I go to bed.”

With that Leah walked out of your shared home, the home you had lived in for the last 8 years. You walked to your bedroom, the bedroom that held so many fond memories. In that room Leah told you that she was ready to have a baby, you did all the IVF shots there, you read the test confirming Leah’s pregnancy, felt Amelia move for the first time, spoke to your baby girl, held your daughter while she screamed during the night, and so many more.

Now here you stood, staring into your closet deciding what you wanted to take with you as you moved out of your beloved home. Moved out of this home by yourself, leaving your daughter and wife, soon to be ex-wife, behind.

There were a lot of tears that night as you said goodnight to your daughter. You had tears in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks as you knew it would be the last time you would see her for a long while. Tears were also streaming down her face as she cried for Leah, you had told her you would be deploying again, and she did not take it well. Once you told her she immediately shut down and wanted her Mama there, the woman who never left her behind.

She didn’t understand what this goodbye meant, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her. You promised your blonde daughter that you loved her and that you’d always protect her even if you were halfway across the world. So, you left that night under the gauge that you were deploying, not telling her that you would be gone for much longer than that now.

---

It was six months later when you found yourself waking up under the bright, blinding lights of a hospital room. You weren’t sure where you were or what was happening as your breathing increased and you slowly began to panic. Sitting up quickly and searching the room for a sign of where you were.

The room was silent besides the sound of your labored breathings and subtle beeps from the machines on your bedside. It was a small room, but if anything was clear from the number of machines whirring beside you, it was that whatever you were here for was serious.

The white walls and lights lit up the room fully, but they were accompanied by the sun shining in from the large windows. It looked as every other hospital you had visited; the room your mom was brought to when she cut her hand open while drinking in your teenage years, the room Leah was in after her ACL tear, the room Amelia was born in, and the room you visited injured soldiers in.

Even though you didn’t know what brought you here, every hospital room granted the same feeling, fear, doubt, shock. Your entire body was in an achy pain, moving ever so slightly caused pain to radiate through your entire body. Even just the lights sent pain searing through your head.

The door was opened, and a female doctor rushed to your bedside, “Calm down, Sergeant, you’re okay, you’re safe.”

You gave her a confused look with wide eyes, “Where am I?” you croaked out, your voice scratchy.

“You’re in the hospital, you were injured in the field a week ago. You have been in a coma since.”

Your eyes widened, you had no memory of an injury, “What happened?”

You were five months into your deployment when you were informed of your next base move. Your unit was being sent to a different base, nearly four hours away, in a much more dangerous area. The British squad there was slowly being overpowered by the enemy and they needed more British soldiers there to defend.

This deployment had been noticeable easier than your previous one. You had been stationed in a much safer area than last time and rarely had to go out on missions. You were stationed far away from any enemy camps and hardly came across anyone in your day-to-day. Your squad was only sent on missions when a British troop was in danger.

You hadn’t lost anyone in your squad, but this seemed a bit too good to be true. You hadn’t been on the front lines often, but when you were it was highly dangerous. It was a near miracle that none of your soldiers had lost their lives.

Now you found yourself in the passenger seat of your Foxhound, your right-hand man for this deployment in the driver’s seat beside you. You were about two hours into the drive when the unimaginable happened.

You were driving along a dirt road, the same you had been on for the whole journey, and nearly identical to ever other road in this area. There were no buildings around, no people, and no vehicles other than your unit’s. All of a sudden you hit a bump, for the second you recognized it as a rock in the road, but then suddenly your truck was being blown through the air and flipping over itself.

The IED blew the back of your truck tumbling over the front. The flip crushed the and folded in the hood, trapping your left leg in the damage. The other vehicles in your unit weren’t damaged and the other soldiers came running to the aide of you and your partner. You were unconscious the minute the roof of the truck hit the ground, and as your men reached you, they quickly realized you were stuck in the damage.

They were able to get the other man out, his injuries seemed minor compared to yours. You had severe injuries that even your soldiers could assume were nearly deadly. The aide unit reached you an hour later, your soldier sat by your side protecting the vehicle incase any insurgents heard the explosion. The rescue team was able to get you out of the damage in due time, but at the cost of your left leg. They treated you at a nearby aide station until you were stable enough to be transferred to a hospital.

This was a week ago, now you laid in your hospital bed, finally waking from the medically induced coma the doctors had placed you in due to the traumatic brain injury you suffered. As the doctor explained your injuries, losing your leg, broken ribs, cracked skull, TBI, shattered wrist, and many internal injuries, you zoned out not truly believing the words falling from the doctor’s mouth. You lifted the blanket covering your legs and looked down to see your missing extremity, it was almost as if you didn’t believe what the doctor was saying.

Your breathing was still fast, but it was beginning to regulate as you realized what was happening. All you were thinking about now was how much you wished someone was by your side, but you knew that wasn’t happening. This was the life you had chosen for yourself, a life alone, a life with the Army as your family, the life you chose over your real family. You knew that Leah wasn’t there for you and wasn’t coming to you.

The doctor interrupted your thoughts when she spoke, “Sergeant, we will be transferring you to London shortly. You’ll be remaining there until their doctors declare you healthy enough to return home. You’ll be heavily sedated for the trip, otherwise due to your injuries you would be in unimaginable pain.”

You simply nodded your head, not knowing how to respond to the doctor’s words. As they began to prepare you for transfer your head was empty. The only thing you were sure of at the moment was the pain radiating through your body. There wasn’t much running through your head, you weren’t sure what to think of the situation. And as they put you under the sedation the only thing you were thinking of was about was what would happen once you were back in London, where you would go.

You woke up a few hours later, lying flat in a new hospital bed, looking up at a ceiling nearly identical to the one you were in hours earlier. The same bright lights, white ceiling, whirring of medical devices on your bedside. You heard quiet talking in the distance when you leaned up on your elbows and saw a man in a white coat standing in the doorway speaking to someone that was blocked by the wall.

You watched for a moment, they hadn’t noticed you were awake, and then turned to look around the room. You spotted a bag which you could never forget sitting on the couch to your right, Leah was here.

Wincing as you moved up the bed, now leaning against the bed frame. The doctor turned to look into the room, clearly having heard your pained noise. Once he saw you awake and sitting up, he walked in, Leah following behind, “Nice to see you awake Sergeant, I hope the flight over was smooth.”

You smirked, “Wouldn’t be able to tell you if it wasn’t,” you looked past the doctor to see Leah hesitantly standing next to the doorway, leaning against the wall.

“I’m just going to do a few quick checks on you and then I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

The doctor came to your bedside and took notes in your chart with some of the information on the many devices connected to your body. As he did some hands-on checks you couldn’t stop staring right past him and at the English defender standing in the back. You weren’t sure why she was here; you had changed your emergency contact right before you left on deployment, fearing this exact situation. You knew where you stood with Leah and didn’t want her to be called in if something like this were to happen.

The doctor finished her checks and confirmed that everything looked good in relation to your current state. He looked to Leah as he announced you’d likely be staying in the hospital for about a week, they needed to keep a close eye on your recovery.

The doctor left the room after mentioning he’d be back soon to check on you once again. Leah thanked the doctor and looked over toward you, there was a silence for a minute neither of you quite knowing what to say, but you broke it, “You don’t have to be here, Leah.”

The blonde slowly approached your bed, “Don’t even try telling me to leave.”

“I’m sorry they called you, I’m not sure why they did. I changed my mom to my emergency contact; I don’t know why they-”

Leah cut you off as she sat on the edge of your hospital bed, “They didn’t call me,” you gave her a confused look, “Your mom called me. Why’d you put her down?”

You had a strained relationship with your mom since you moved out of the house. She tormented you after your father died, always drunk and always angry. It was when you enlisted that she really hated you, she didn’t understand why you would put yourself into the same situation that killed your dad. At the time you didn’t understand her anger, you thought what you were doing was honorable, was something to be proud of. What you knew now, from being with Leah, was that she was simply terrified, just like Leah was. You moved out after you enlisted and after the argument that followed.

You and her had some contact, mostly through her expenses and medical care. As much as Leah hated it, you were always there for your mother whenever she called. And while it was never personal and you never introduced her to your daughter, you always took care of whatever she needed. She’d call you for money, you received all her bills, you took care of everything because even with how horribly she treated you, there was always that part of you who understood her. You understood the spiral she had after your father’s passing and he told you to take care of her, and you would never disobey one of his orders. Her drinking was something you delt with from the moment your dad passed. What you didn’t notice as a kid, was that she wasn’t attending work. When you were at school and Leah’s hour assuming she was working in the hospital, she really was at home drinking. The alcohol has taken its toll on her body and her health was now steadily declining.

Leah, obviously, knew all of this having been there for you through it all. Which is why she was so confused to find out that you had her placed in the spot your ex-wife once held.

You looked down in your lap, “Well, I needed to take you off it and I didn’t know who else to put. I filled it out assuming it wouldn’t have to be used, but here we are.”

She let out a soft chuckle, “Well here we are, Y/N.”

You met her eyes, staring into the blue, “What’d she say when she called you?”

Leah sighed, “I don’t think that’s important.”

Your expression grew more serious, “Yes, it is, please tell me.”

The blonde sighed and looked to the ceiling, “She was clearly drunk when she called, it was after you had arrived here, so I’m not really sure what she thought when she got the first call you were hurt, but she didn’t call me then,” Leah took your, uninjured, hand in hers, “She told me that you were here, but that she didn’t remember what the doctor told her about what happened or how you were, so I was half-expecting to show up here and you be in even worse shape. She said that this was your own fault, and that you did this to yourself by choosing to be in the Army. Then she told me it was my fault for not convincing you to leave sooner, started blaming me for killing you,”

You squeezed her hand, “This isn’t your fault, you tried to get me to leave. This was my own fault.”

She sighed, “I know, and I told her I tried to get you to leave, but she just kept saying that this was the same thing that happened with your dad. That he didn’t love her or you enough to leave and it killed him.”

“She has always said I’m just like him, but you know this isn’t your fault. You know I love you and Amelia more than anything.”

Leah’s eyes met yours, “I know you do; I was so scared when she called, I thought you were dead.”

“I might be better off dead at this point,” the defender slapped your thigh, “I lost my leg Leah I can’t be a soldier anymore. I lost you and Amelia when I decided to stay in, and now I’ve lost the career I risked everything for.”

“I’m going to help you get through it, don’t worry.”

You sighed, “You don’t have to do that Leah, I know how you feel about me.”

“I’m going to help you; I’m not just throwing you to the curb.”

You leaned your head against the pillow, “I know I fucked up; I don’t expect you to forgive me and help me just because I got hurt. I’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t have to, I’m taking you home once they let you out of here,” she looked towards the foot of the bed, “I’m helping you get through this, we’ll work through it together.”

“What about Amelia? Won’t it confuse her?”

Leah sighed and spoke softly, “I never told her we split.”

You gave her a confused look, “You didn’t tell her?”

She had a serious look on her face, “No, I didn’t,” the confused look was still plastered across your face, “I might’ve regretted it after it really sunk in.”

Suddenly you felt a jolt of optimism deep in your stomach, you might not have really lost her, “What do you mean?”

Tears started to prick in her eyes, “I was just so terrified of losing you. The last deployment was so difficult on all of us, and I just didn’t think I could go through it again,” you reached to hold the blonde’s hand, “After you said you’d think about leaving I just thought that seeing how it had affected Amelia would convince you to leave, so part of me spent those years just expecting you to leave. When you came home and said you’d be going back I couldn’t handle it.”

You sighed, “I’m sorry, Le.”

“I just was so terrified that I would lose you and had convinced myself you couldn’t come out of every deployment healthy and that eventually it would catch up to you.”

You smirked, “Are saying you jinxed me?” Leah shot you a glare, “Sorry, sorry just trying to lighten the mood.”

The captain let a small smile cross her face, “You always are trying to lighten the mood.”

“You’re always too serious,” you countered.

“We even each other out.”

“Yes, we do.”

You spent the next week in hospital, Leah would come every day to visit for a few hours while Amelia was in school. You had asked her not to bring your daughter to see you, you didn’t want her to see you in the state you were in. You and Leah were slowly amending things, you knew it would be a long journey for the two of you, but you were taking the proper steps there. You spent the time in the hospital talking any things through, it seemed like the first time in a while you both had a proper conversation about what was going on in your heads. Leah told you her fears and you expressed why you were so desperate to stay in.

It was a week after arriving at the London hospital when you were crutching your way into your home. Leah had opened your car door for you and was rushing around you to grab the front door as well, she truly was a miracle worker for you. You had gone home during schooltime which was best, it gave you a few hours to settle back in before Amelia returned home. Leah had told her about everything going on so that the young girl wasn’t startled to see you, but you knew she wouldn’t understand completely until she saw you, and frankly you and Leah didn’t yet know how she’d react to seeing you.

You laid on the couch for the next few hours your foot and new stump were laid on the couch next to you while Leah seemed to be running at one hundred miles a minute trying to make sure you had everything.

You looked over the back of the couch to Leah in the kitchen, “Would you come sit down Le? I’ve got everything I need I promise.”

She continued her rummaging through the cabinets, “I’m just trying to fix you a snack I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

“I’m not hungry and the only thing I’m worried about right now is your heart rate,” you could hear Leah laugh from the kitchen, “I’m serious, love, come sit with me and relax.”

You leaned up as the defender approached the couch, sliding into where your head used to be and then relaxing you to lay in her lap, “How are you feeling? Do you need ice?”

“The same as the last twenty times in the past half hour, I’m fine, Leah.”

She ran her fingers through your hair, “I just worry about you, this is a big change and I want to make everything go as smoothly as possible for you.”

You smiled, “I appreciate it, seriously, but I am as okay as I can be right now. You’re being perfect I promise.”

“Just think of it as me repaying you for taking care of me while I was pregnant.”

You scoffed, “Oh, I was not this insufferable when I was taking care of you.”

This sent Leah into a spiral of explaining everything you used to do for her that annoyed her. Her rant lasted many minutes as it seemed like she had been waiting to tell you this ever since. The blonde went on and on explaining everything you used to do and how you hovered which only got worse overtime.

A few minutes into her rant you noticed the time, “Oh shit, don’t you need to go pick up Amelia? When’s school end?”

“I’m not leaving, my mum is grabbing her for me.”

You leaned to sit up as Leah pressed a hand against your back to help you. You swung your leg around, so you were sat next to her, “She’s going to hate me again isn’t she.”

Leah grabbed your hand, “She won’t hate you, just like she didn’t the first time. I can’t promise it won’t take some adjusting, but I can tell you she’s taken the news of you coming home a lot better than last time. She’s older now, she understands everything a bit better.”

“I just can’t deal with her hating me again. It almost broke me the last time, seeing the look on her face every time I would walk into the room.”

She sighed, “I can’t say it’s going to be easy, and I bet it’ll be hard for her to see you like this, but it’ll be okay in the end.”

“She’s going to be scared to look at me, I mean look,” you motioned to your legs, one covered in cuts and bruises and the other missing.

The blonde rubbed circles on your hand, “It’ll be hard, but she’s a strong little girl. She’ll understand I don’t want you to worry. She’s been excited about you coming home, we’ve been talking about it.”

You raised an eyebrow, “She’s excited?”

Leah smiled, “Ever since I told her you were in the hospital, she’s been asking me about when you’d come home. She’s been waiting for this, so listen when I tell you she’ll be okay.”

Your conversation was interrupted by the front door opening, Leah squeezed your hand before jumping up. She walked towards the door to see a yelling blonde girl, “Mama!”

Leah caught her as she jumped into her arms, standing up and pressing a kiss to the side of her head, “I missed you sweetie, how was school?”

“It was good we colored and then I got to play football during break time!” you could hear the smile on the small girls face as she spoke, them not far enough into the house to see you.

You reached for your crutches and used them to slowly get yourself to your feet. You took one step on them when Leah heard the noise and whipped her head around, “Sit back down we’ll come to you.”

She had a stern look on her face, but you shook your head as you crutched towards her and the small girl, “I’m okay Le,” you saw your daughter’s head peak over her mother’s shoulder meeting your eyes, “Hi, baby girl.”

Leah gently placed her back on the ground before whispering to her, “Remember what we talked about, being gentle with Mummy.”

You had stopped a few meters behind your wife, as the small girl slowly walked over to you, “I missed you, lovie,” you smiled down at her.

“I missed you too, Mummy,” She hugged you, on the side of your good leg, and you saw Leah winced, about to talk, but you shook her head telling her it was okay.

“Should we move to the couch so I can give you a proper cuddle?” She nodded and followed close behind as you crutched to the couch.

You sat by the arm and Amelia quickly climbed up to cuddle into your side, you wrapped an arm around her pulling her closer to your side. Leah hovered nearby and moved to sit down on the chair nearby.

“How was your work trip, Mummy?”

You and Leah both let out a soft laugh, “It was good at the beginning, I was hanging out with my friends all day,” Leah sighed, knowing this wasn’t the truth, “But I know Mama told you I got hurt at the end. I can explain it to you when you’re a little older.”

“Mama said the doctors had to take your leg. Why would they do that? That’s mean.”

You sighed, “You know what a car wreck is, right baby?” the small girl nodded, “Well, me and my friends were in a bad one and it hurt my leg very badly. My left was so bad that I couldn’t keep it anymore, it would’ve made me worse.”

She looked at you confused, “But now you can’t walk anymore or play with me and Mama in the garden.”

Your heart broke hearing your daughter speak. Your whole life would change now, and it was really setting in on how it was going to change. You knew that there were prosthetics, but nothing would give you back what you had before. Even with the advancements no prosthetic would be the same as having a leg.

Leah could see the tears starting to form and your eyes and took over the conversation, “Well, some special doctors are going to give your Mummy a robot leg once her leg is healed a little more. So, in a few months she’ll be able to walk again and even play with us in the garden.”

Her eyes lit up as she sat up and looked to you, “Really?”

There was a small crack in your voice as you looked to her, “Yep, they’re going to give me one and it’ll help me walk again. It will take a while until I’m ready for it, and then after that it will take a little while to get used to wearing it.”

She seemed to take this answer, “Does that mean you’ll be part robot?”

You laughed and ran a hand through her blonde hair, “I guess it does, I’ll be part robot.”

She cuddled back into your side one arm wrapped around your waist. You leaned down to place a kiss against her hair and then looked over to see Leah watching you lovingly. You motioned for her to come over and she took a spot on the other side of your daughter wrapping her arm around the both of you.

This was everything you missed and thought about while you were away. Having both of your girls back with you. You spent so many nights missing them and rotting with guilt over losing the both of them, but now you were here with your life put back together and in the arms of both of your girls.

You would have to adjust to this new life of injury, but you knew with these two you would get through it. They would be your motivation, getting back to your best would be for them, and they would be by your side every step of the way.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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alotofpockets · 3 months

Text

When your heart stops beating | Part 1 | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where you go down on the pitch and go into cardiac arrest

Warnings: cardiac arrest, CPR, AED, possibly incorrect medical terms

A/n: Happy birthday @wosoamazing, this one is for you!

Read Part 2 here

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.1k

-----

“She does know this game day walk is meant to be relaxing, right?” Millie asks Leah, while the two of them watch you run around with Grace. Leah’s face lights up as you rush past and your giggles reach her ears. “I think she knows, but that she doesn’t care.”

Where Leah was often found in a quiet corner of the room playing her sudoku’s, you were always running around and doing something active. Today on your game day walk, that consisted of playing tag with Grace.

“I don’t know how you keep up with her.” Millie had known the both of you for a long time, and yet the question always lingered somewhere in the back of her mind. Leah Williamson was usually the quiet and composed one, especially since she became a part of the captain’s team. You, on the other hand, were always present and expressive.

“I don’t have to keep up, cause at the end of the day, she always comes running back to me.” Leah said with a content smile. As if you heard Leah’s words, you came running towards her, “Hi baby.” You put your arms around her as you walked backwards for a few steps. “Hi love, did you win?”

The smirk on your face instantly gave away the answer. “I did, ‘cause Gracie gave up when I was too fast for her.” Leah kissed your forehead, “That’s my girl. Hope you have enough energy left for the match.” You make your way around so you’re now walking next to Leah, “Oh yeah, don’t worry cap, you know I’ve got plenty more where this came from.” Leah rolls her eyes, she might be your captain, but she hated when you called her that.

You had been right though, you were running up and down the flank as if you hadn’t been running around all morning already. You went into halftime with a 1-1 score, knowing Leah was going to give her captain’s speech about being better on set pieces. There had been plenty of opportunities to have broken the tie with them, but hadn’t been able to get the ball in the back of the net from them yet.

After halftime you're able to break free on the left hand side of the pitch, you manage to get the ball in the far corner where you are quickly surrounded by two defenders. You tried to get out with some fancy footwork, but they weren’t falling for your tricks. Instead you opted on getting the corner, so you kicked the ball against one of them to get it out of bounds.

Alex ran up to take the corner, while you made your way to the box. You give each other a quick high five, “Let’s show Leah what we can do from set pieces.” Alex said before continuing on her way to the corner.

Once everyone was in position, Alex lifted her hands, and sent her cross in. The ball was coming right in front of the goal, you ran forward and jumped up into the air hoping to reach it. What you hadn’t seen was that the goalkeeper had taken a couple of steps forward and took a firm stand to punch the ball out of the way. Less than a second after you head the ball in the direction of the goal a pair of fists collide with your chest. A shot of pain goes through your whole body as you fall to the ground. The moment your head hits the ground, the world around you goes blank.

Alessia was the first one by your side, as she had stood ready at the back post. You weren’t moving, and you weren’t responding. Alessia looks up with a face full of worry, only to meet Leah’s panicked eyes.

The medical team was quick by your side, and told the surrounding players to give them some space. Alessia stood up and pulled Leah away from the scene, “Come on, they need space to help her.”

“She isn’t breathing.” One medic said to the other. He went to check your pulse next, “Her pulse is weak. Let’s get her on some air and get her on a heart rate monitor.” The medic made quick work of getting the right equipment, while the players watched the scene unfold in horror, their faces pale with fear and concern.

They put the oxygen mask on your face, and connect the electrodes to your chest. Your heartbeat was shown on the monitor, and like the medic said it was weak. The beeps sounding from the monitor started slowing down. “Heart rate is dropping. Prepare for CPR.”

Beth stood with her arm around a crying Leah. It was hard for the whole team to see you on the ground like this, but Beth knew that someone needed to be strong for Leah. The rest of the team stood grouped to the side, worriedly looking at their unconscious teammate.

Leah fell to her knees when they started doing CPR on you, Beth tried comforting her as best as she could while tears started forming in her eyes as well. An ambulance was driven onto the pitch, and the paramedics ran up to take over CPR.

One of the paramedics took over compressions, while the other got the defibrillator ready. The paramedic halts the compressions for a moment as they cut off your shirt. “Hold compressions.” The lead paramedics says, and places the defibrillator paddles on your chest.

The whole stadium was quiet as the paramedics got ready to shock your heart. “Charging.” The paramedic said, followed by a beep signalling that the defibrillator was ready to shock, “Clear!”

Your body jolted from the shock, and the paramedics eyed the monitor hopefully. Still nothing. They started compressions again, while the machine recharged.

“Come on, stay with me.” Leah cried out as the pedals were brought to your chest again. “Clear!” Another shock jolts through your body. “We’ve got her!” The paramedic says, his voice full of relief as the monitor shows a steady heartbeat.

Your heart might be beating again, but you were still unconscious. “Alright, let’s get her to a hospital.” The stretcher was brought from the back of the ambulance, and you were moved onto it.

Leah was taking off her armband and shoving it in Beth’s hands. “I have to go with her.” Beth understood, “Go, we’ve got this.” Leah runs over to the ambulance and gets into the back with you. Her eyes were focussed on the steady rhythm of your heart beat on the monitor, while she held your hand tightly. “Stay with me baby.” She whispered over and over again. Leah was definitively in shock, having just watched her girlfriend die and be brought back to life, but your fight wasn’t over yet, you still had to wake up.

Leah sat at your bedside, her hand clutched around yours. The doctor's had done many tests and scans, and had told her that all the tests came back negative and your scans were clear. They had to wait until you woke up to fully assess your memory and motor function. While the doctors were sounding hopeful, Leah still feared the worst.

Doctor's checked on you every 30 minutes. Leah never moved away, staying by your side, holding your hand. It was after the fourth check in that Leah suddenly felt you squeezed her hand. She shot up instantly, “Baby, I'm here.”

You slowly open your eyes and take in your surroundings. A hospital? You’d have to ask someone what happened, but first you had a more urgent question, so you turn towards the voice. “Did it go in?”

Leah’s eyes filled up with tears. “Did what go in?” You frown, Leah wanted better set pieces and now she didn't know what you were referring to? “The corner, did I score?” Your girlfriend chuckles lightly, realising that this meant you remembered what happened before the accident. “Yes, you did.” Leah wipes the tears from her cheeks.

“Did we win?” You ask next, still having more important questions on your mind than the one relating to you being in a hospital bed. “I don’t know actually.” You’re about to take out the nasal cannula cause you didn’t like the feeling. “Baby, don't touch that, you gotta leave that in.”

Leah pressed the help button on your bedside, like the nurse had urged her to do when you woke up. “What’s going on Lee?” She shakes her head, “Let’s wait for the doctor’s.” You didn’t understand why Leah didn’t just tell you what was going on, so you pushed more. “Why so serious, love? I just want to know why I can’t take these tubes off.” Leah really tried not being the one to break this to you, but she knew you wouldn’t drop it.

“Because I watched you die.” You watch her in disbelief. “Your heart stopped on the pitch, they had to shock your heart back to life. You aren’t taking that off until a doctor tells you it’s okay.” The realisation of what had happened started dawning on you. “Copy that, cap.” She rolls her eyes, but steps closer to hug you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” The nurse walked in. “I see someone is awake. How are you feeling?” You look between Leah and the nurse. “Leah, said I couldn’t take this oxygen thing off, because I died. Did I really die?” The nurse nods, “You did for a moment. Your heart stopped beating after your accident, but the medical team and the paramedics got you back. After that you were brought here, all your tests and scans looked good. The doctor just wants to do a couple tests before you can take the nasal cannula out, I will ask her to come down here soon, I promise.”

Sure enough the doctor showed up in your room within the next five minutes. She did some tests and you were able to take the tube away. “Alright, I want to keep you overnight, just to make sure. Some more tests in the morning, and if those are clear you can go home.”

You couldn’t wait to get home and no longer be in the gloomy hospital room. Lotte had come by with some dinner, and your bags from the stadium. Leah used the time Lotte was there to keep you company to quickly get changed out of her kit, and into the clothes she had packed this morning when she left home.

After some dinner, Lotte took a picture of the both of you to send to the group chat with an update to the rest of the team. The admin team contacted you to ask if you consented to them using the picture in your injury update post, which you agreed to.

-----

Lionesses just posted

Lionesses: After some scary moments today, we are happy to share that Y/n is concious and doing well.

She will continue to be monitored, but should make a full recovery.

Sending all our love and well wishes towards you, Y/n!

-----

Leah stayed the night, there was no way she was going to leave your side any time soon. She spent the evening cuddled up with you on the hospital bed, watching a movie together. For you the accident was just what people told you had happened, otherwise it was just one big blank space and then waking up in the hospital. Of course it had been scary to hear that your heart stopped beating, but Leah had seen all that happen. She watched you die, and that visual wasn’t going to leave her head any time soon.

The next morning you successfully finished all the doctor’s tests, and were ready to go home. Lotte was there again to pick you up, since you had both gotten here in the back of the ambulance.

The doctor’s had put you on bedrest, which you weren’t looking forward to, but you knew it was for your own safety. Leah had already let the staff know that she was taking the week off to be with you, which they fully understood.

After Lotte dropped the two of you off at your house, Leah took you right to the bedroom where she told you to stay put. Five minutes later she came back with blankets, pillows, water bottles, and snacks. “We’re having a movie marathon, doctor’s orders.” You smiled at her fondly, usually you had too much energy to sit through a full movie, and you realised that Leah was going to take advantage of your bedrest situation. Not that you mattered one bit though, you were all for a night of cuddles with her.

-----

Continue reading part 2!

-----

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adascore · 4 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

pairings: alexia putellas x england!reader / engwnt x captain!reader / aitana bonmati x england!reader / jenni hermoso x alexia putellas

warnings: swearing. angst. jealousy. world cup loss for england. crying. strong language.

author’s note: right when everything seems to finally fall into place, the world is witness to the fall of an all-time great.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

August, 2023 - Sydney, Australia

''And Y/N Y/L puts England into the World Cup final for the first time in their history! Captain Fantastic!''

Even 4 days later, the echoes of their semifinal win against the Australian team continued to send shivers down her spine. The heartbreak of the previous World Cup defeats was still present within her, but the captain felt empowered and ready to face anyone that would be sent her way.

The looks on the girls' faces as she had put another ball into the back of the net were ingrained in her mind, the sheer happiness with which they ran to her is something she will not forget any time soon.

They would play the final against Spain, a final they must absolutely win- not only for the title, but for the dignity and integrity of the game.

Y/N had been supportive of the 15 Spanish players that had taken a stance against the treatment the team had received from their coach and federation. She didn't know any of them on a personal level, but the England player has always been one of the biggest advocates of the women's game, so she wanted everyone to know on which side she stood.

Some of the girls had reached out, thanking her for lifting them up and shedding more light on the situation. However, none of those girls would be playing against her in the final as they did not receive a call-up.

She found it difficult to decipher whether most of the Spanish players liked her or not. A lot of them were from the Barcelona team and well… she did not have the best history with them when she wore the Lyon shirt.

There wasn't any hostility, but the striker had stopped them from winning several more trophies, so she figured they would gladly maximize any chance to take one away from her as well.

Unlike last year's Champions League final, this one wasn't being dubbed as ''Putellas vs. Y/L'', instead Alexia's name had been replaced with Aitana's.

''What's it going to take to win against a very in-form Spain tomorrow?'' One of the reporters asked the England captain.

''Goals.'' Y/N answered, matter-of-fact, having the media room chuckling.

She had been relieved to not have to share the press conference with the Spanish team, having to act cordially with Vilda was not on her agenda.

It was the morning of the final when she first encountered the Spaniards, both squads being allowed to do their pitch inspections. Their opponents were already spread out on the pitch when the English side entered the stadium, decked in black suits while the Lionesses wore their light blue tracksuits.

Keira and Lucy clung to their Barcelona teammates, delighted to see them. Alessia, Ella and Mary walked over to Ona, while the remaining Brits stayed in their own smaller groups.

Y/N was the last player to make her way onto the grass, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. She entered with Arjan, in an engaged conversation with the Dutchman about something that had happened during training.

As if there was an AirTag on the England captain, Alexia's eyes immediately found her from where she was standing with Lucy, Jenni and Laia. She immediately noted the confidence and aura that was radiating off of the younger woman, seemingly not bothered about the major final that would be happening that night.

Alexia observed how she gave the assistant coach a pat on the arm before inspecting the stadium on her own, walking on the sidelines without anyone by her side.

The Catalan's attention was solely on the Brit, long forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with her teammates.

Should I? No, I shouldn't bother her, she seems content on her own. I kinda want to talk to her, though. Alexia's thoughts were clouded with the dilemma on whether to approach Y/N or not, finding it a great opportunity to see where they currently stood with one another.

She knew there was a chance it could lead to an awkward encounter again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she at least needed to try. However, another part of her held back, afraid of rejection.

Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet towards the striker. ''Sorry, just one minute.'' Alexia excused herself from their small huddle, biting the bullet.

Lucy, before anyone else, noticed where she was headed. ''Ale, I wouldn't do that- oh, she can't hear me, anyway.'' The defender brushed her own warning off, realizing it had no use as the skipper was already too far.

''Why shouldn't she talk to her?'' Laia inquired, confused about Lucy's attempt to stop her friend.

''Y/N has this thing where she likes to be on her own while doing the pitch inspections, I don't know where it came from, but she doesn't like to be bothered.'' The Brit explained to them.

The trio, lacking any subtlety, stared as Alexia walked to the sidelines, the unaware England captain clearly her target. ''For an introvert she sure likes to put herself in uncomfortable situations.'' Jenni bluntly remarked, soliciting chuckles from Laia and Lucy.

''Nah, she'll be fine.'' The Spanish defender said, choosing to be optimistic about it.

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia was feeling anything but fine as she got closer to Y/N with each step she took. She'd faintly heard Lucy calling out for her, but she'd pressed on, determined to make this work.

''Hey,'' Alexia greeted Y/N, her voice coming out smaller than she would have wanted.

The striker turned to her, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. ''Oh, hey.'' She replied, her tone cautious yet not unfriendly.

''How are you?'' The midfielder asked, internally cursing at herself for startling her.

Y/N nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. ''Good, how are you?''

''Me too, thanks,'' Alexia's voice was steadier now, feeling the tension slightly dissipate between them, ''I'm excited for tonight.''

The younger woman nodded in understanding, her expression softening. ''Same, will be tough.''

There was a moment of awkward silence, neither quite sure how to proceed further. Y/N expectantly looked at Alexia, wishing for the midfielder to either extend the conversation or go back to her original conversation on the other side of the field.

''Uh, that was a nice goal against Australia, by the way. Really good.'' Alexia quickly offered, breaking the silence.

Y/n chuckled at the mention of her goal, her eyes twinkling. ''Thank you,'' she said, ''it's great to see you back with Spain.'' The sincerity was evident in her voice, almost catching the Spanish skipper off guard.

''Thank you, it's nice to be here with the team.''

''How's your knee doing?'' Y/N briefly glanced down to her competitor's leg, curious about the status.

Alexia hesitantly nodded. ''A lot better. Not a total 100%, but the recovery is going well.''

''That's great, I'm happy for you.''

The Spaniard smiled, a warm feeling embracing her. ''Thank you.''

A silence fell over them again, though it might have been the least awkward one so far out of all the interactions they've had.

''Uh, I have to get back to my, uh, thing,'' Y/N held up her earphones that were connected to her phone, ''but, uh, good luck tonight.''

''Yeah, sorry, uh, you too.'' Alexia stumbled, nervously taking a step back and giving the Brit an uneasy smile.

Y/N gave her a quick nod before turning away, slipping her earphones back in and walking on the sidelines of the pitch. She was the only person on the pitch who was actually taking the inspection in ''pitch inspection'' seriously as she observed the grass while strolling around the stadium.

Alexia stood there for a moment, watching her go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of something she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back to her teammates.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as her club captain rejoined the group. ''You seemed to get more out of her than I usually do.''

Alexia shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. ''Just catching up.''

''Catching up… nice.'' Jenni recited her words, a skeptical look in her eyes.

''Yes, very nice,'' the Barcelona captain dropped her smile, ''anyway- where were we?''

So the winner takes it all, the loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain?

The stadium was alive with cheers and celebrations, but for Y/N, the echoes of disappointment drowned out the jubilant sounds. She stood on the pitch, staring blankly at the sea of happy faces, her mind replaying the moments that led to England's defeat against the Spanish.

In the midst of the celebrations for the opposing team, Y/N's gaze lingered on the blue jerseys scattered around the pitch, a lot of them on the ground now.

Her feet were nailed to the ground, unable to move herself towards her team and help them up like the leader she is.

However, she could do nothing but stare at their agony.

She failed.

She had fucking failed.

There had been many opportunities for her to equalize the score, yet she hadn't been clinical enough. Shots that usually would find the back of the net, went wide or were blocked by a defender or by Coll.

A few minutes passed as she finally managed to force herself towards the other players, almost walking in shame to her teammates.

Ella and Alessia were the first two she encountered, both girls with tears in their eyes, a drastic contrast to their usual demeanor.

''Come here, my girls.'' Y/N motioned for them to walk into her arms, which they immediately did, seeking comfort in their captain.

Their heads rested on either sides of her shoulders, both sniffling in her neck as she felt their tears staining her kit. She caressed their backs, while observing how their other teammates were being consoled.

Y/N was the one to pull away first, silently signaling she would go up to the remaining members of their squad.

She passed Lucy, who was embraced by Mariona. The striker briefly ruffled the defender's head, while muttering a congratulations to the Barcelona player.

A bit further down the pitch, she saw Mary being helped up by a bunch of teammates, the Manchester United goalkeeper in complete despair.

But before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

''Hey, Y/N.''

Sarina appeared in front of her, her expression somber yet supportive.

She gave the coach a sad smile as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her player. ''You did very well.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N whispered back, the disappointment audible.

''Don't apologize, I'm very proud of you,'' the older woman reassured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

The coach pulled her back, her hands resting on her shoulders. ''You can let go, you know? The match is done, don't keep everything inside.'' Sarina softly mumbled, lightly concerned over the captain's stoic face and the visible tremor in her hands.

Y/N simply nodded, not saying anything further. Despite the encouragement, she remained outwardly composed. Though, Sarina could see the raw emotion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Sarina offered one last glimmer of solace before reluctantly stepping back, leaving the captain to herself.

Y/N's original destination had been Mary, though by the time her conversation with her coach had finished, the goalkeeper was nowhere in sight.

''Good match, you still give me trouble after all these years.'' Irene interjected her thoughts, her stuck-out hand appearing before her.

The Brit chuckled at her words, shaking her hand. ''Thanks, and congrats. You've had a good tournament.''

''Thank you, Y/L. You too.''

They shared a quick hug before going their own ways again, the respect from their Lyon-PSG days never having withered away.

As she traversed the pitch, she encountered various teammates, each bearing the weight of defeat in their own way. With a comforting touch on the shoulder, a shared look of understanding or a warm embrace, she conveyed her support without needing to utter a single word.

Among the Spanish players, there were nods of acknowledgment and brief exchanges of congratulations.

While she wasn't particularly close with any of them compared to her teammates, her facial expression and overall posture didn't invite further interaction. She managed to convey her respect and acknowledgment of their achievement without seeking deeper engagement.

She also made her way to the three officials in the center of the pitch, extending her hand towards them.

Meanwhile, the other captain on the pitch observed her from afar, her eyes tracing the familiar figure moving through the post-match formalities.

Alexia made note of the way Y/N's shoulders were tense, and how her movements were almost robotic.

As she further analyzed her, a strange and unfamiliar feeling settled inside her. It was a sensation she couldn't quite put into words, a mixture of empathy, sadness, and a strange sense of connection.

She had never experienced such intense empathy for an opponent, especially not in the aftermath of a major final victory. Typically, her focus would be on celebrating with her teammates and reveling in the joy of winning. But now, she found herself feeling more sorrow for Y/N's defeat than happiness for her own success.

Memories of the previous year's Champions League final flooded Alexia's mind, where she had been in her position, grappling with the crushing weight of failure as the leader of her team. She saw a reflection of herself in the English striker, recognizing the familiar struggle of trying to mask one's emotions in the aftermath of defeat.

Recalling the moment when Y/N had offered her comfort and admiration after that match, Alexia felt a sudden urge to reciprocate. The Brit's words had given her a lot of strength when she lost, and now, she wanted to do the same. With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

Alexia's expression softened with sympathy and understanding as she made it to the center of the field. ''Y/N,'' she said gently, her arm instinctively reaching out to wrap around the Brit's shoulders, ''I know it's not the result you wanted, but you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You were one of the best this World Cup.''

Y/N managed a tight-lipped smile, though her eyes betrayed the lingering disappointment. ''Thanks,'' she replied, her tone tinged with bitterness, ''it's good to see you back on the field. Even if it's only for 10 minutes.''

The Spaniard chose to ignore the passive-aggressive comment, recognizing it as a product of frustration rather than genuine malice. ''Thank you,'' she replied calmly, ''it was a great battle today.''

The England captain gave a curt nod, subtly attempting to shrug off Alexia's comforting embrace. But the Catalan held tight, refusing to let her go.

''Seriously, Y/N, you were amazing these few weeks,'' Alexia persisted, her voice gentle yet firm, ''you led your team to this moment.'' She attempted again to console her rival, or former rival… friend? It wasn't clear. It had never been clear.

''I appreciate it,'' Y/N responded, her tone softening slightly, ''you guys worked hard, considering the circumstances. Congrats, enjoy it.''

With a gentle yet deliberate movement, Y/N extricated herself from the embrace, offering a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was acutely aware of the cameras capturing every moment of their interaction, and the potential backlash she might face for her indifference. But in that moment, consumed by the sting of defeat, she couldn't bring herself to care one bit.

Alexia watched her for a few seconds, feeling something that felt equivalent to a slap in the face. She perfectly understood Y/N's pain, and could imagine what the England captain was thinking in her head. But she'd only meant well by her words, and affection.

She didn't stare too long at her departing figure, knowing how miserable it might look to other people. The midfielder resumed her small tour of shaking hands with all the opponents, while also congratulating her own teammates.

It irritated her how effortlessly the striker's indifference had dampened her spirits. Alexia couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness, resentful of the power Y/N seemed to hold over the Spanish captain's emotions without even remotely trying.

Why is she allowing it to sour her mood?

''Y/N.'' She heard her name being called somewhere in the dressing room, turning around without knowing who to even look for.

Keira appeared in front of her, already showered and changed into something clean. ''Hey, don't feel obligated to do this, but I kinda need a favor from you…'' The Barcelona midfielder looked a bit flushed speaking to the captain.

Y/N slowly nodded, not sure where this was heading.

''Uh, Aitana- you know Aitana, right?'' She quickly asked, suddenly feeling insecure about the player's knowledge of her teammate.

The captain snorted, finding the question a bit ridiculous considering they just played a final against her. ''Yeah, I know her.''

Keira nodded, cringing at herself for even asking. ''Right, so you're kind of like, one of her idols, and she would really love for you two to swap kits.''

Y/N softly smiled at the sweet gesture, while also feeling immensely honored by the fact that Aitana considers her somewhat of a role model. ''Uh, yeah, that's fine. Do you know where she is?''

''She's standing outside the dressing room right now.'' Keira sheepishly grinned.

''Of course she is,'' the older player sighed with affection, ''uh, I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll go outside, okay? I want to wash this entire day away.'' She grimaced.

''Alright, I'll tell her,'' Keira said before briefly stopping the striker from walking to the shower area, ''thank you.'' She sincerely said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

''Ah, don't mention it.'' Y/N brushed it off, squeezing the midfielder's arm.

It took her about 20 minutes to actually make it outside the changing room. Had she wasted time on purpose to keep the person who had just robbed her of a World Cup title waiting for her? No one could tell.

''Hey, congrats again.'' Y/N greeted the Spaniard, who looked incredibly nervous.

Aitana smiled brightly, carefully holding her own shirt in her hands. ''Thank you. Congrats on your tournament, you played great the entire time.''

''Thanks. Here you go.'' The England captain handed her shirt over, the Barcelona player doing the same.

''Gracias,'' Aitana thanked her, looking like a kid at Christmas, ''you've been my idol for a long time, and it's amazing to play these kinds of matches against you. You're an amazing player.'' She continued her complimenting, not able to stop herself from praising her.

Y/N awkwardly accepted her words, she'd never been the best at accepting such loving compliments, especially when they came from fellow players. ''That means a lot, thank you. But you're like the best player in the world right now, I'm much more honored, believe me,'' Y/N chuckled, making Aitana blush, ''also congrats on the Champions League, you were seriously one of the best players the entire tournament, and also in the Spanish League. I've been a big fan of you since Budapest.''

Aitana looked overwhelmed to say the least. The Champions League final in Budapest had taken place in 2019, meaning the Lyon striker had been a fan of hers for over 4 years.

''No, thank you so much, but you're the best, always.'' The Spaniard brushed it off, genuinely not believing there was a better player than Y/N in women's football.

The Brit grinned at the reply. ''Well, I can't wait to see you lift the Ballon d'Or this year.'' She winked.

''I- I don't know about that.'' Aitana stammered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Y/N laughed softly, a warmth in her face that made the midfielder flustered. ''Trust me, you should pick out an outfit already,'' she teased, ''but, seriously, keep doing what you're doing right now, players like you are really rare, and all of us are so blessed to watch you play right now.'' She encouraged, her tone genuine.

''Thank you, that is very kind.'' Aitana responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

''You're very welcome.''

''Did you get it?'' Ona asked Aitana as soon as the midfielder entered the dressing room.

The Catalan held up the shirt to her friend, proudly showing off the emblazoned ''Y/L'' on the back of it. ''I had to wait 20 minutes.'' She sighed, sitting down in her cubby.

''She probably made you wait on purpose.'' Mariona remarked, taking a sip of her water.

''No, she was very kind.'' Aitana brushed the comment off with a shake of her head. The Barcelona star neatly folded the jersey on her lap, delicately brushing away the remaining stains of grass and dirt.

''Ale, you're not listening to me.'' Jenni nudged the captain, an offended look on her face as her friend didn't seem to be paying much attention to her rambling.

''Huh, what?'' Alexia stuttered, caught off guard, looking to her side.

A playful eye roll accompanied a light slap on the arm. ''Am I boring you?''

''No, no, please continue,'' the captain insisted, realizing she had drifted off again. She forced herself to listen attentively, though her mind kept drifting back to the jersey exchange between Aitana and Y/N.

''Okay, what is it? You're clearly not focused on me right now.'' The midfielder sighed, observing her friend's distracted gaze.

Shaking her head, Alexia tried to dismiss her thoughts. ''No, continue, I'm sorry- nothing on my mind.''

Jenni's eyes followed the captain's gaze to the blue England jersey on Aitana's lap. She looked back at her teammate, noticing her fixated expression. ''You're not telling me that even a damn shirt with her name on it bothers you.''

''What do you mean?'' Alexia asked, embarrassed as she was called out.

Jenni's eyes shot up in judgment. ''I get that the comparisons weren't nice while they were happening, but letting her bother you this much is crazy, Ale.''

''She doesn't bother me.'' Alexia retorted immediately.

A snicker followed. ''Yeah, and I'm Jesus.'' She responded, sarcastically.

''Just forget about it.'' Alexia started, but Jenni interjected.

''Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You don't want to talk about it?'' The Spaniard apologized, realizing her friend wasn't enjoying the teasing.

''No, I do. Just… not here, I don't need the whole room to know about it.'' Alexia whispered, eyes darting around.

Jenni nodded, sending her friend's discomfort with the others. ''Alright, should we go to the bathroom?'' She suggested, trying to make it seem as subtle as possible.

The captain nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. ''Yeah,'' she smiled, ''thanks.'' She softly muttered as they made their way outside.

As they stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom, Alexia let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Jenni's understanding. Leaning against the sink, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jenni stood beside her, offering a reassuring smile. ''You okay?''

The Ballon d'Or winner hesitated for a moment before responding. ''Yeah, just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but the shirt does make me upset.''

The Tigres player slowly nodded, trying to understand her point. ''Okay… and do you know why?''

She remained silent for a few moments, almost too full of shame over the answer- the true answer to that question. ''I think- you know, we've never exchanged shirts… and she does it with so many other people on our team.''

Jenni reached out, gently squeezing her friend's shoulder. ''It's not just the shirt, is it?''

She knew her friend too well to think this was all about a stupid football jersey- there was more, and Jenni wanted to know what that entailed.

Alexia remained quiet, glancing down at the floor.

''Ale, I'm not dumb. I see what she does to you.''

''She doesn't do anything-''

''Shut up,'' Jenni shook her head, cutting her off, ''I want to listen to you, and help you, but you have to start being honest to yourself, Putellas.''

Alexia's facade crumbled under Jenni's persistent gaze, her defenses weakening with each passing moment. She let out a resigned sigh, knowing she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"She… she is so freaking annoying. You have no idea, Jenni. She makes my blood boil. Every single time we're on the pitch together, it's like she knows exactly how to get under my skin. It's the way she plays, the way she talks, the way she looks at me like she's already won. And I know it's all part of the game, but fuck, it's so fucking annoying,"

Jenni leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and nodded for her to continue.

''But then, the match is over, and all I want is for her to come up to me and ask me for a freaking shirt swap. It's so ridiculous, I know. But it's always someone else that she goes to. First it was Patri, in Turin. Then, at the friendly last year, I thought she was going to ask me, but no, she asked me to give my jersey to a fucking teammate of hers. And now Aitana has one as well? It's so fucking stupid. She can exchange with Aitana, but not with me?''

Alexia's frustration was palpable as she continued to vent. "And the worst part is, I don't even know where we fucking stand with each other. Like, in Turin, she was so nice and she comforted me when the match was done, and she was, yeah, just so nice. But today, it was like she wanted nothing to do with me, and I get it, it's a big final to lose, but still! I can't stand it. I want to be mad at her, but she makes it impossible.''

Jenni watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Ale, maybe she doesn't realize how much it bothers you."

Alexia threw her hands up, a bitter laugh escaping. ''She knows exactly what she's doing. She does this on purpose, it's like she gets some kind of twisted pleasure out of it.''

Her friend raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. ''Or maybe she doesn't know either. You're giving her too much power, Ale.''

The captain shook her head. ''It doesn't feel like that.''

''What does it feel like?'' Jenni asked.

''Like she's playing mind games with me.''

Jenni remained silent, having Alexia almost hanging her head in shame. ''It's fucking stupid.'' She cursed under her breath.

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''First off, it's not stupid, your feelings are valid,'' Jenni reassured her, ''and secondly… I have never seen you like this, and it kind of worries me, Ale.''

Alexia let out a heavy sigh. ''Sorry, you don't need to worry. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like an idiot for caring this much about a shirt.''

''You're not an idiot,'' Jenni denied with a smile, ''you want her to acknowledge you. It's not a crime, she's a great player, it's normal.''

Her younger teammate nodded, though not convinced.

Jenni sighed, stepping closer to her friend. ''Why don't you take the first step? Ask her for a swap yourself.''

''Ask her myself?'' Alexia laughed mockingly.

''What's the worst that can happen? She says no? At least you'd have your answer.'' She pointed out.

''I don't think I can…'' Alexia muttered in response, looking down at the bathroom floor.

''Why not?'' Jenni pressed gently.

Alexia hesitated, her words coming out in a rush. ''Wha- what if she, you know, enjoys that I want her- her shirt,'' she quickly corrected herself, ''I honestly think she would enjoy rejecting me.''

''Ale,'' Jenni broke the silence in the room, ''do you… do you like her?''

Alexia's eyes shot to Jenni's before darting away again. ''What?'' She stammered, caught off guard by the question.

''I know how you act when you like someone,'' Jenni raised an eyebrow.

She adamantly shook her head in response. ''No. What the hell.''

Jenni held up her hands, a faint smile playing on her lips.. ''Hey, I wouldn't judge you. She's good-looking, she plays amazing football, has a nice accent.''

''No, I don't like her.'' She insisted, though her conviction sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

The older midfielder snickered at the weak reply, her amusement evident.

''Jenni, I don't like her. That's insane.'' Alexia continued protesting.

''Ale, you're kinda obsessed with her.'' Her friend pointed out.

'' I am not obsessed wi-''

''How many hours of footage have you dedicated to studying her before every match you play against her?'' Jenni interrupted her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Alexia rolled her eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, but she stayed silent.

''See. Absolutely obsessed. You probably know her stats better than she does.'' Her fellow midfielder continued, her teasing tone relentless.

''I am not crazy. I'm just strategically analyzing the opponent.'' Alexia defended herself, though her words faltered slightly.

Jenni raised an eyebrow. ''You know there are 10 other players on the pitch, right?''

Alexia huffed in exasperation. ''Oh, come on. There is nothing to like about her.'' She reacted defensively.

Jenni smirked at her words. ''Not her good looks, her intelligence, her advocacy, her football skills, her sexy accent, her knowing all those different languages, her-''

''Shut up.'' Alexia interjected Jenni's teasing, her cheeks completely burned up.

Jenni chuckled, knowing she had hit a nerve. ''Okay, okay, I'll stop. You're obviously still in the denial stage.''

Alexia huffed loudly. ''You're delusional.''

''Yeah,'' the older woman sarcastically said, ''after we've had this whole conversation, I am the delusional one, Ale.'' Jenni rolled her eyes.

The Barcelona captain crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. "You're making this much bigger than it actually is.''

"Because it is a big deal," Jenni immediately retorted, ''you're clearly affected by this, and this goes way beyond whatever rivalry you two have going on.''

Alexia sighed, realizing her mask was slipping and her friend had her completely figured out.

Jenni silently stared at her friend for a few moments, wondering how long these thoughts had been brewing inside her mind. She pulled the younger woman into an embrace, gently caressing her back.

''It's okay to have these feelings, Ale. It really is. But don't bottle them up the way you have been doing, don't ignore them. That's not healthy.''

Alexia let her head rest on Jenni's shoulder, the truth of her words sinking in. ''I just hate feeling like this,'' she admitted, ''I don't even know what I want from her.''

Jenni nodded sympathetically, continuing her caressing. ''I understand that,'' she kissed the side of her head, ''I don't know when you'll see her again, but maybe, like, ask her for a shirt swap yourself? I know you think it's stupid, but you'll get a better understanding of where you stand with her.''

Alexia shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

''You can,'' her teammate assured her, ''I really believe you've got it all wrong. I think she'd happily exchange kits with you.''

''Maybe… yeah, maybe you're right.'' She mumbled in response.

Jenni pulled her back, not looking into her eyes. ''Just try, please. And if she doesn't want to? Guess what? There are thousands of other people who would gladly receive your shirt.''

Her friend's encouragement caused a smile to finally appear on Alexia's face, something Jenni was happy to see. ''Thanks, I really appreciate it.''

"Anytime," Jenni replied, giving her a supportive pat on the back, ''now let's get out of here, and fucking celebrate, alright?''

Alexia nodded, feeling much lighter than when they'd first walked into the bathroom. ''Yeah, let's go.''

''Let's go, chica!''

suggestions/ideas/opinions for or about the series are always welcome in my inbox!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso fic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fic #engwnt x reader #aitana bonmati x reader

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 months

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𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 | 𝘫𝘩86 ♔

➪ summary: for the first time since getting with jack, y/n has to see him play against her ex and it doesn't go the way she hoped it would

➪ warnings: fights, cale calling reader a slut

➪ word count: 1.7k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: this is no way me hating on cale, i don't know him or the avs that much so... anyway, here's the jack fic you guys asked for! i hope you guys like it as much as you did the first time around. please be sure to add yourself to the new taglist if you want to be added to it! i will use the taglists each one more time for each player and then i'm switching over!

nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

Hockey games had always been entertaining to her, or rather for her. It seemed that every time y/n showed up at any arena, any league, any game, something would happen. Whether it was a fight, going into several rounds of a shootout, or having to use an emergency goalie, something happened at them. And this time was no different.

Sure she had been to multiple games of Jack’s before, but usually he wasn’t the cause of the chaos. She had noticed he had been a little on edge the whole night, period after period. While she couldn’t necessarily see his face from where she was sitting (unless they zoomed in on it of course), she could tell by the way he played and the way he stood during breaks that something was off.

Jack had begged her to come to a game, she hadn’t been to one in a couple of months due to their schedule and her work. She was a bit reluctant at first, this would be her first game while dating Jack while they would be playing the Avalanche. The first time she would have to see her ex and her boyfriend play each other in person.

He too was hesitant, but her being there definitely outweighed the risks of her and Cale running into each other. She gave in as soon as he turned his puppy dog eyes on her, they both knew once she saw them it was hard to resist them. She threw on her jersey and met up with a few of her friends to go to the game. She opted not to sit with the other wives and girlfriends today, wanting to blend into the crowd a little.

Her friends made conversation throughout the game with her, also noticing Jack’s weird behavior. Her closest friend, one of the ones that was there through the breakup with Cale, nudged her about halfway through the third period, “Look.”

Y/n moved her eyes to where Charlotte was pointing, they narrowed as they zoned in on Cale and Jack standing close to each other by the Devils net. She went to shrug it off but could see how Jack’s head cocked to the side and tensed his shoulders. Then they skated away from each other as the puck escaped Nathan’s grasp.

“It was probably nothing.”

She wished that statement was true. In reality, Cale had been chirping at the younger boy the whole game. It started as nothing, plain banter that he would hear at any game he went to. Then it turned into the common, “Pretty boy hockey player” chirps. While he wasn’t affected by it, he could tell that he wouldn’t stop and that’s what bothered him.

Cale’s last defense to get the boy railed up came during the third, 10 minutes before the game ended. The first one wasn’t enough to get Jack wound up, maybe a little ticked off, sure. The allusion to his girlfriend made his anger rise. The second time, however, was a much different story.

It was three minutes until the game ended, three minutes that y/n clutched tightly to one of her friends’ hands, praying that they would not only win but Jack would get out of there unharmed and the fight that she had thought was going to happen wouldn’t. Yet, as soon as Jack heard her name leave his mouth and he was pushed forward, his stick dropped and he turned around, anger clouding his mind.

She wasn’t exactly sure what either of them said, more unsure of what Cale had said to cause the action. Jack’s words sounded something along the lines of, “What the fuck did you say about her?” And she knew, she hated that she knew, but she did. Jack was never able to keep control when someone said anything even remotely hurtful to or about her.

The gloves dropped next and she gasped in surprise when she saw Jack’s fist meet Cale’s jaw. She had never seen Jack fight, at least not this much. There was the little incident in which he lost his tooth but she was never allowed to call it a fight, Jack forbade her to (though, she and Luke still did when he wasn’t around).

She couldn’t decide if she should watch in awe, surprise, fear, or anger. And she wasn’t sure if she should be allowed to find it mildly attractive at the way Jack’s hair fell out of his helmet and his lip was bleeding slightly. The refs finally pulled them apart, the Devils bench going wild at him fighting for once in his life.

After the game, she stood with some of the wives and girlfriends, her friends long gone by then. It took Jack a little longer to come out, and when he did she stopped her conversation with Nicole and turned to look at him. He only held out his hand as he kept his gaze down. She slipped her hand into his and smiled politely at the remaining group of women before letting herself be pulled away to Jack’s car.

The car ride was silent the whole way back to their apartment. There were plenty of times that she wanted to reach out, ask him what happened, simply hold his hand, or run a hand through his hair, but she held it back in fear of causing a fight between them. Halfway into the drive, his right hand slid from the steering wheel and made its way over to her thigh, resting comfortably.

She looked down and saw the small cuts and a few bruises that littered his knuckles. She used her hands to trace them, Jack’s hand tightening at the feeling. That’s how they spent the rest of the ride, Jack’s hand on her thigh occasionally squeezing it out of whatever emotion he had been feeling, her hand tracing shapes along his arm and on his hand, and in silence.

When they arrived home, she was starting to get fed up, the silence was too much for her. She closed the door behind the two of them and stood with her arms crossed as she watched Jack maneuver around the apartment. Jack was hoping he would be able to escape the night without any word of the game at all, but just like her prayers weren’t heard before, his weren’t either.

“Stop.”

Jack halted in the hallway between the living room and their bedroom. He turned to face her, slightly nervous, “What happened?”

He shook his head but stopped once he saw the look plastered on her face. He was in deep and utter shit.

“Jack Rowden Hughes, you better tell me what happened. Why did the two of you fight?”

“He said shit about you.”

She quirked an eyebrow, unable to make out his words due to his mumbling. He sighed and spoke up, “He said something about you.”

She stepped closer to him, within arms reach. She tilted her head in confusion, “What did he say?”

Once again his words came out mumbled and she rolled her eyes in annoyance, huffing, “Speak up Jack.”

“He called you a slut, okay!” Her eyes widened in surprise, though neither of them was sure if it was because of what Cale had said or because of Jack’s yelling.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I thought he said something worse.” She shrugged and moved to walk to their bedroom, seemingly done with this conversation.

“Hold on, wait a minute.” Jack’s hand grabbed her arm and spun her around, “What do you mean you thought he said something worse?”

“What? I meant what it sounded like. With the way you reacted, I thought he would've said something way worse than calling me a slut, Jack.” She smiled, trying to alleviate his anger.

“He hasn’t called you that before has he?”

Her smile turned down and so did her gaze, now focused on his hands. Jack lifted her chin, his right index finger resting underneath it, “Has he?”

She nodded, eyes trained to the wall behind him, “Jesus, y/n/n.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Didn’t think it was- he called you a slut, y/n.”

“So? I know I’m not and you know I’m not and everyone else knows I’m not. Why does it matter what he thinks?”

“Because he shouldn’t be calling you that.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

She sighed and reciprocated the hug, “It doesn’t bother me, Jack, so it shouldn’t bother you.”

“But it does, baby.” He pulled away from her to cup her face with his hands, “If someone talks shit about you it’s going to bother me. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m fine, Jacky. I promise you. You just get a little protective don’t you?” Her hand wrapped around one of his wrists and she smiled at him.

Jack’s smile that he gave her was smaller than hers but she loved it all the same. Her gaze dropped a little to his split lip, “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve been turned on or not when you were fighting. I think my worry clouded my judgment.”

He smirked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh really?”

“Mhm.”

She traced his lip with her thumb before kissing him. He groaned in return at the sudden action but kissed her back immediately. They pulled away a minute later, both slightly breathless, “Should I fight more often?”

His one hand moved to push a strand of hair out of her face, “If it’s hot like that, yeah.”

“Oh so you find fighting hot, do you?” His hands wrapped around her waist, moving her closer.

She giggled slightly before raising an eyebrow, “Why did you think I dated a defenseman?”

“Too soon, baby. Too soon.” He dipped his head to kiss her again, but this time it ended with them in the bedroom.

⬂ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗝𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘆 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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#: ̗̀➛ sunny’s writing 📓 !#nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader

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gayerthanevertbh · 3 months

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competitor - training season pt. 1

natasha romanoff masterlist | series masterlist | navigation

summary: you were a fierce competitor who aspired to be the top female tennis player in the world, and there is no way you can compete with the famous natasha romanoff on the tennis court. every time she volunteered to coach you, there was a condition: to sleep with her. with this routine, both of you grew closer than ever. however, another woman had already taken her place in court before you could even see her. game, set, match. who will you choose? natasha weakens you, but louise jones revives you.

warnings: natasha being extremely seductive, mentions of sex, and manipulative natasha - minors dni

notes: this story is probably my favorite since i could say it's very well written but enjoy x

Whoosh!

That was the initial sound that sparked my passion for tennis. It is all about the way players approach the game and their level of enthusiasm when hitting the ball. It captivates me to the point where I could sit and watch tennis matches all day if I had to. I lean back with a Coke in one hand and inhale deeply, taking in the scent of the outdoors. Then, following a brief interval, an additional whoosh! was produced. With every missed shot, MJ's grip on the racket tightened as she stood on the tennis court. She stared at the net, frustration written all over her face as sweat glistened on her forehead. Usually she was so calm, but tonight she felt like she was being betrayed with every serve and return. I sympathized with the other players as I watched from the sidelines. Something was obviously wrong since her movements had become stiff and jerky, replacing her customary grace. Today, the game served as more than simply a pastime; it served as a battlefield for whatever was bothering her.

“Thirty, love.”

“Fuck!” I felt a chill run down my spine as I overheard MJ furiously hurling her racket across the court. When I think of MJ, I picture an optimistic, self-assured, and cheerful person who uses very few profanity words. I suppose she did not hit the ball properly because this is the first time I have heard it.

MJ was defeated when her last serve went slightly outside the line. As the umpire's call resounded throughout the quiet court, Michael Jackson's shoulders lowered in surrender. With a fake smile, she approached the net and held out her hand to her opponent. Her expression of sportsmanship was masking the annoyance and despair I could see in her eyes from where I was standing on the sidelines. It was hard to see as her once-bubbly confidence crumbled and was replaced with a worn-out acceptance of her loss. I wanted to soothe her as she turned away from the net, but I didn't know how to say it.

MJ didn’t win.

“30, 40.”

I got up and went over to MJ, who was slumped over on the bench after the game, because he looked beat. As she chugging away with all her might, she grabbed the water bottle from my hand and gave it to her. "Something is not right," I said.

“Damn right,” she said as she threw the bottle out of the way. “Fuckin’ Garcia did it all. I was close, so close!”

“I think there’s something wrong with your leg.”

She slowly shifted her gaze to me and emitted a fake laugh. “If there was something wrong with my leg, then I wouldn’t play in the first place.”

As we sat down next to her on the bench, I let out a sigh and watched as the court became increasingly silent as everyone left. After that, I told her the truth while turning to look her in the eyes. Denying it while continuing to wipe off her perspiration, she shakes her head. One thing that should be known about MJ is that she possesses an unwavering sense of pride, particularly when it comes to tennis. So it was; she was supposedly one of New York's top young female players. Perhaps she was feeling overwhelmed by her family's expectations that she excel as a player or that her argument with Jason had a negative impact on her mood today. She refuses to acknowledge that there is a problem with her. Like her, I aspired to be the best at what I do; she is confident in her abilities.

“Are you coming later at my place?” I asked.

“I don’t know; Jason wants to have dinner with me. He said that he got me a new coach.”

“Oh?” As I observed her rise to her feet, an arch formed in my eyebrow. “It must be nice to finally get a new one. Clint wasn’t so great, I assume?”

MJ shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know; yeah, maybe.”

“Is there something wrong? I hate to push your buttons—”

“It’s just embarrassing, Y/N,” she says with a loud groan. “My parents were watching me! Now they’re going to tell me that I need to do better, I have to be better.”

After a brief moment of silence, MJ spun around to give me a mischievous smile. “What about you, Ms. Rogers? Aren’t you going to train for today?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t have a coach. Besides, I’m too tired for today. I’ll probably do some drills tomorrow morning.”

"Well, if you need anything, just send me a message. You know I’m just one call away, Y/N. I can hire you a coach if that’s what you want.”

"You have been there for me through thick and thin; I am doing fine," I told her, burying my nose in her neck and embracing her tightly. “Let me know what happens with Jason.”

I parked the car by the curb and silenced the radio, squinting as I thought about the game from earlier in the day. If I have to be the best, I have to do more training, I thought to myself with a loud sigh coming out of my mouth. I was a huge tennis fanatic as a kid and used to binge-watch matches on TV. In particular, the tennis legend Natasha Romanoff, who was a friend of my father's. I climbed out of the vehicle, secured the door, and made my way inside my home. Just as I was about to make my way to the kitchen, I heard the patio door open. I peeked out of the picture and saw my dad and his friend Natasha enjoying some orange juice and sandwiches. Seeing her makes my heart race; it is almost a wake-up call.

Whenever I saw her on TV, I felt an instant crush on her. I mean, who could resist Natasha Romanoff's allure?

Just as I was ready to leave, my father's voice reached my ears. “Y/N, you’re home! Why don’t you join me and Natasha for some snacks?”

I walked out of the house and waved to Natasha, who looked even more menacing despite her calm demeanor. I can feel her stare crawl against my skin, tightening my throat. “Hi, Nat.”

With a deep, rough voice, she says, "Hello, darling," and removes the cigarette from her full lips. “Did you train today?”

“No, I just watched MJ’s game today.”

"MJ, Mj," she muttered to herself, possibly trying to recall who MJ actually is. Her words trailed off after that. She grinned and turned her head back to face me. “Carter Jones’ daughter? I’m surprised that she plays.”

“She’s a huge fan of you,” I said with a giddy voice. And so am I. “Have you been visiting Carter?” She took a drag from her cigarette as I poured myself a glass of orange juice and took a seat next to my father.

“No, I haven’t. We’re sort of in a thin line right now.”

“Is that so?” my father asked.

She comments, "Susan and I were not going to work in the first place," bringing up Carter's spouse. She and Susan were a couple in the past, as my father told me. I must have been so young to have forgotten that she was with Susan. “How’s MJ? Still hotheaded?”

I nodded with a small smile on my face. “Still very hotheaded.”

She blew the smoke from her mouth and looked at me silently. The atmosphere grew more intense the longer she stared at me. “I see. How old are you now, hon?”

“I just turned 22.”

“In college, I assume?”

“Yes, I study at Standford.”

With a devilish smile, Natasha gives my father a wink. “She’s following your footsteps.”

He pats on my shoulder as he lets out a squeezed laugh. “I didn’t force her to go there, for your information. She even begged me to let her in!”

“Dad, stop—”

“Have you gotten yourself a coach, Y/N?” My throat was getting even drier, and Natasha asked, licking her teeth and pushing her used cigarette into the ashtray. Given that I have not been able to locate a suitable coach in London, this was one of the more difficult questions. In addition, I am not even sure if tennis is the sport I want to play. To be honest, I was only intelligent in terms of academics. Apart from that, though, who am I really meant to be? I was obsessed with tennis; it was my life. But if I am not good enough, how can I love tennis?

“Uh, no. I haven’t.”

Leaning back against the chair, she smacked her lips after finishing her glass of orange juice. “I would want to coach you, but I’ve been very busy these days.”

As she extended her hand to hold my hand, I felt my cheeks flushed—not literally. I laughed nervously and scratched my arm.

“T-that’s fine, Natasha. I know how busy you are.”

“I’m only here for a couple of weeks. I’d stay here even more if I’m not being called back to New York.”

I got up, kissed my father's cheek, and said in a hushed voice that I was going to bed early. I smiled courteously at Natasha as I turned to face her again, and he nodded and squeezed my arm. “I’ll take a nap, see you guys later.”

Before I left the garden, she gave me one last smile. The more I hear my footsteps, the more my heart races, and I return to my room as if nothing had happened. Is she aware that she is forcing me? She has always drew me in, even as a young girl. She seemed like a sister to me at first, but as I kept seeing her on magazine covers, my admiration for her beauty grew. As the coach I used to have before said, love means zero.

Love means nothing.

When I woke up, it was already late at night. At the moment, I sighed and headed for the kitchen, grabbing my bottle of water. As I poured myself a cold glass of water, I opened the refrigerator and discovered a container of food that they had most likely eaten at dinner. I put it on the counter. I started to consider asking MJ to find me a coach before the next week began while I was eating there by myself. However, I was astounded to see Natasha emerge from her room and make her way to the kitchen.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were up.” After Natasha brought it up, she grabbed my glass and drank nearly half of it.

“I must’ve been so tired that I forgot dinner,” I chuckled to myself. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“You didn’t.”

She took a big breath and peered at me with her dark green eyes, observing that my red polka-dot shorts were paired with simply a tank top. Grinning, she moved on, opening the refrigerator and filling my glass with water. “Sorry, I was thirsty.”

“It’s okay.”

I caught her wearing a tight black shirt and gray leg-hugging jogging pants as we stood there silently. Even at night, her appearance was ethereal. For fifteen years, I was younger than her; in fact, I was practically two decades younger. Maybe she would give me a chance if I were older or if she were younger.

But I can’t look at her that way; I just can’t.

"It is cold," she remarks once more in that deep voice, glancing out the large window in front of us. “Why are you wearing that?”

“I prefer the cold,” I replied.

“Well, I think you should wear something more... Less revealing.”

Was she critiquing my choice of dress? Though I was confused, I refrained from showing her my feelings for fear that she would take offense. I definitely did not want to witness Natasha becoming enraged. When I was younger, I recall witnessing an argument between my father and her regarding tennis. She threatened him by stomping her foot on the ground and hurling her glass, causing her to grab his neck. They never talked about what had happened that day, so I have no idea.

“Do you not like the way I dress?”

She took a breath and shook her head. “I think if you wore something like that in public, I’d be angry.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, if you haven’t been aware, I’ve been protective when it comes to you. You are Steve’s daughter, after all. Of course, I have the right,” She leaned in closer to me, shrugging her shoulders. I could feel my head being tickled by her breath. “Have you gotten yourself a coach?”

“I-I was supposed to call MJ, but you distracted me.”

“Is that so, darling?”

I took another swallow and found myself drawn to her once more. This was wrong, I thought to myself. This is just so wrong.

“I actually have a proposal for you, Y/N. But you can turn it down if you’d like.”

My heart skipped a beat as I felt her hand slide the strand of hair behind my ear and smile. I tried to look away as quickly as possible, but I was unable to. I simply could not stop staring at her, absorbing every second of it into my being.

Was she attracted to me too?

“I would coach you to be one of the best players out there if you return something.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, trying not to smile from the excitement. “W-what is it?”

Natasha licked her bottom lip and cocked her head slightly to the side, as though she was tempted to kiss me. But she leaned closer until I could feel her breath on my ear.

“I will coach you if you agree to sleep with me.”

What?

“Huh—”

“That’s right,” she says again, but this time it becomes more devious. “You heard me.”

My whole body tensed up, and my cheeks flushed. It is unbelievable that someone of her caliber, Natasha Romanoff, would ask me to have a sexual relationship if I would just allow her to mentor me. Though I was aware of my desperation, was this really what I wanted? I stepped back, trying to get my bearings. If I were to sleep with her, on the off-hand basis, I would also get to train under one of the greatest female tennis players of all time. She was aware of the way in which she was treating me; she could discern that I harbored feelings for her.

“But my dad would know—”

“He will never know, sweetheart.” With a cooing voice, she interrupts me and puts both her hands on my waist. “We only get to know this. No one will know that you’re whoring yourself out for me, baby girl—I mean, no one will know that we’re sleeping together if ever.”

“Whoring? Myself?” I let out a tiny laugh as I shook my head in response, as if this were all a joke to me. “You’re kidding, Nat. Right?”

“Do you want to be the best?” Natasha asked in a demeaning way, and I quickly felt the need to stop talking. It was best if I had said nothing at all first. “Then if I were you, you should take this as an opportunity.”

“How is this an opportunity if I’m going to let you use me?”

“My, my, raising your voice at me, are you now?” With a quiet giggle, she made a threat, her gaze fixed on mine. She put her hand on my forearm and brought it up to her navel. “I’d shut that mouth if I was going to sleep with you tonight. But you know what, I’ll let you have time to think about it.”

Natasha took my arm and walked away, whispering, “Goodnight, darling. I need an immediate answer starting tomorrow.”

Something was leaking out of my core as soon as she left me in the kitchen by myself. I was so mad at myself and that she would turned me on that I squeezed my eyes shut. Maybe I would be a normal girl if she were not enticing me with her tonight. However, the truth is that I would like to open up to her. I’d do anything for her.

It was Natasha Romanoff; who could compete?

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #tasha bear:(#natasha x reader

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