#imagine them sitting on the coach back home

[avenirdelight]

it’s madders, cuti, guglielmo, and micky who always comment on each other’s posts / story for me

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Puck-cident

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Blood, vomit, injury, hurt/comfort

Summary: You are the unfortunate soul that takes a puck to the face during one of Utah's games, Clayton sees the whole thing and demands to be let off the ice.

Notes: By popular demand I have finally gotten around to this fic ☺️This turned out to be like 5.5k so...enjoy?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Everyone always knows there's a risk involved with sitting in the audience at an ice hockey game. The announcers at every game never fail to remind people that pucks can travel at well over 80mph and can go into the audience. Always reminding people to keep their eyes on the puck. But, no one actually ever thinks it'll hit them. You've seen your fair share of pucks caught in the crowds, you've never seen someone get injured.

You've been to so many ice hockey games that maybe you've been lulled into a false sense of security, a sense that nothing bad could possible happen to you, not when you're sat in the stands to watch your boyfriend play. Not when you're wearing his jersey, Keller plastered across the back, number 9 bold and clear. Not when you feel so at home in that space, so secure. Turns out you're terribly wrong.

Normally Clayton's eyes wouldn't have followed the puck as it went out of bounds, normally he'd have sighed and moved to the new faceoff circle, caring very little for what fan had managed to catch it. Normally, he'd be more concerned with the fact that they were in a two goal deficit. But, something made him stop on the ice today, something made him follow the puck with his eyes to its end destination. Eyes widening in horror as the scene started to play in slow motion while he was utterly helpless on the ice, stood there with his grip slacking on his stick.

Clayton never imagined that it would be dangerous for you to come to one of his games because fans getting hit by pucks? Getting genuinely hurt? That seemed like such a fluke incident and you'd never been hurt before, not in all the years you'd been coming to his games. Even before you were with him you'd gone to ice hockey games, not once had you had an issue. But, it sinks in, the reality of it, that it does happen and can happen to you. That it's happening to you right now and he can't do anything to stop it.

The piece of vulcanised rubber that had flown off the stick of the opposing team flies over the glass into the stands and he watches like some sort car crash, a sick slow motion view as the puck finds you, like your name was written on it. It's hard to tell from this distance how hurt you are, or where you were hit, but he can see the crowd writhing around you, the panicked yells telling him enough.

Enough that Clayton's skating towards the bench as fast as he can, shrugging off teammates and referees who try to insist he stays, who keep asking him what's wrong and where he's going. His coach tries the same, stepping in his path, confused as to where Clay's off to in the middle of a game as the captain of the team.

"Keller, what do you think you're doing?"

"Respectfully, Bear, my girlfriend just got hit by a puck going nearly 90mph. I'm going to see if she's alright." His tone is short, clipped, trying to be respectful of his coach, a man he does respect and admire. But he's made up his mind and nothing and no one is going to stop him from going to you right now. He'd sooner quit hockey entirely than play a whole game unsure if you're alright after being injured.

"Keller, the game..."

"Fuck the game, you've got enough players. I need to see her, coach." Maybe it's the wild look in his eyes, the way panic stands out stark and clear. Maybe it's the tense set of his shoulders or the fact that his stick creaks so hard under his grip that it sounds like it may crack. Whatever it is, he isn't yelled at like he expects, no one tells him to go back out on the ice.

Instead Tourigny steps aside letting him past as Clayton storms down the tunnel, passing his stick off to someone. He's barely aware of the fact he takes off his skates, shoving them in someone's arms before he's running out towards the entrance to the stands in just his socks, the only thought on his mind being you and whether you were okay right now.

It's hard to describe what goes through your head when you see the puck coming straight for you, a blind sort of panic that has you freezing in your seat, not that you had anywhere to go to avoid it, not at the speed it had come at you. You're in such shock that you don't really feel much after the initial impact, head buzzing and dazed, neck hurting from the snap of your head backwards, ears ringing as people around you start fussing over you. Someone has you up out of your seat, your arm around their shoulders helping you out of the stands. The feeling of wetness glides down your temple and you raise a hand to your face that comes away red, noticing almost numbly that you're bleeding, blood running down the side of your face, upset because it starts to drip on Clay's jersey, the white one he'd lent you. The fabric being stained, ruined.

"Keller has left the ice, rather abruptly, we're unsure if it's related to the fan in the crowd who's taken a puck to the head or not." Someone has the game station on, clearly enjoying having the commentators speak during the game, the crowd is so loud as you're all but hauled up the stairs to the exit of the stands. You have just enough awareness to wonder if Clayton had seen you get hit or whether he'd been hurt on the ice himself or wasn't feeling well.

You feel like you're going to be sick as you're helped into the main entrance of the arena, lights blinding you, head pounding, the numbness starting to fade in favour of such blistering, aching pain in your head that you can't help but start crying. You feel pathetic, scared, panicked and in pain. You just want Clayton but he should be playing a game right now and the realisation that you couldn't have him with you only makes you cry harder.

It turned into full on sobs when your dizzy, double vision locks on to Clay who's running in just a pair of socks towards you, frantic, helmet being tossed behind him to someone. There's two of him, your vision going in and out but you're so happy to see him that it doesn't matter. So happy that he's here that you can almost ignore the pain, the nausea, and the blood.

He's got you in his arms before you can even comprehend reaching for him, whoever had helped you this far taking a step back to let him take over. He's petrified, you look horrific, blood coating the side of your face and neck, red clotting around your temple. Your eyes unfocused, the white of his jersey bloodstained, tears streaming down your face and he knows someone's calling the first aid team, but it doesn't reassure him when you look like that.

Clay's hands cup the sides your face, your blood is sticky against his palm and he knows he shouldn't be, knows its not anyone's real fault, but he's irrationally angry. Angry at the other team for sending the puck off into the stands, angry at you for always insisting you sit like a normal fan rather than in the box for family and friends, angry at himself for not insisting, angry at Tourigny for trying to stop him from coming to find you, angry that he wasn't with you when it happened. Angry because the alternative is fear and he's not sure he's ready to feel that right now, not sure he can, needing to keep it together for you because you're still crying, clutching onto him like he's the only thing that can bring you comfort right now. He can't help the way he grips you back tightly, trying to reassure himself that you're okay, even as blood keeps flowing from the split skin of your temple.

"You're going to be okay, baby, I've got you...It's okay." It's not, fuck, it's not, but he's trying to stay calm for you, a blank mask on his face rather than blind panic as he watches a stretcher be wheeled towards you. Runs his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe you and himself at the same time, he knows his hands are shaking so fucking badly and he hopes you don't notice, hope you feel reassured by him, feel like he's steady, stable.

"We need her on the stretcher, Keller, so we can have a look at her." Clay's attention goes to the first aiders behind you, the stretcher pulled close enough that all you have to do is step back and jump up.

"It hurts, Clay..." You're sniffling into his shoulder, blood getting on the jersey he's wearing, not that he cares. The equipment team are used to getting blood out of things. Two bloody jerseys is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"I know, baby, oh, I know...I'm just going to give you a little boost up, okay? We're going to get you sat up here, okay?" He talks you through each step as his hands find your waist, helping you jump up onto the stretcher. The movement makes you dizzy, nausea filling you to the point where you know you're going to be sick, desperately trying to keep it in, being unable to. You can't help it when you're sick...all over Clay, head leaning forward between your legs as you vomit over his legs, whimpering as you do so.

"I'm sorry...I've got blood on your jersey and now..." You're crying harder now, embarrassment and shame added to the whole issue because you've just vomited over your boyfriend's expensive hockey gear after bleeding over 2 different jerseys. But, Clay doesn't flinch, hands stroking your hair as you lean forward to quell the dizziness. Is it gross? Oh, totally, does he actually care? Not really. It's testament to how much he loves you that the grossness doesn't matter, he'd let you vomit on him a million times so long as he can look after you in the process.

"It's okay, baby, I need you to lay back, okay? They're going to check on your head..." His hands are gentle on your shoulders, pushing you back while helping you swing your legs straight on the stretcher. Clay's fingers brush back your hair as he looks down at your hazy gaze, "I need to go change real quick and I'll be right back, sweet girl."

When he goes to step back you're grabbing his hand with the precision of a star goalie, even with the double vision and haziness you manage to find his hand. The grip you have on him is so tight, scared for him to leave you, scared you'll be alone like this. Even as you know he's covered in blood and vomit and needs to change, deserves to change.

He's right back to stroking your cheek, backs of his fingers gentle on your skin like he's afraid you might break, "I'll be right back, you're not going anywhere without me."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

He tells the medical staff not to go anywhere with you without him. The fear of coming back to find you gone roiling in his stomach, not really wanting to leave you alone but knowing he can't stand here covered in sick. He's so quick, running down the corridors to the locker room to limit how long he's gone. The speed with which he takes off the vomit soaked clothes and sweat stained uniform is probably record breaking and despite the smell of sick he doesn't even contemplate a shower, just throws on some old sweats and a t-shirt, shoving his feet into a pair of sneakers before bolting back to where he left you. He can take a shower later, once he knows you're okay, once you're both back home.

You're lying back on the stretcher with one of the first aiders, Clay thinks his name is John, leaning over you, shining a torch in your eyes to check for a concussion when Clay returns. He can tell already that you have one between the dizziness, vomiting and the way you seem to wince at any and all light. It doesn't take a genius to realise the puck to the face has rocked your brain a little too hard.

The middle age first aid looks up at Clayton as he finishes checking you over, Clay coming up on your other side to grab your hand again. The way you look at him, so trusting, so happy to just have him back makes his heart skip a little even as it breaks at how tired and in pain you look.

"She has a concussion and needs stitches, we're not allowed to do them here as she's a member of the public, she needs to go to hospital. It might also be a good idea to get an x-ray, make sure she's not got a fracture or anything like that." John turns to Clayton, pocketing the flashlight. It's not what he wants to hear, Clay would rather hear that you're perfectly fine, but it's obvious you're not. Still panic closes his throat at the thought that you might have something even more seriously like a fracture or worse.

"Does she need an ambulance or can I drive her?" Either way Clayton's coming with you, whether in the back of an ambulance or in the driver's seat of his car. He'll deal with the aftermath of leaving the game later, but right now? You're his priority and he's not leaving you.

"Probably quicker for you to take her yourself, Keller. I can help you wheel her to your car?"

"Thanks, that'd be great, John."

"No problem."

Clay has your hand in his, walking alongside the stretcher as John wheels it down to the parking lot. You're dazed and slightly giddy, laughing at each bump despite the pain and that's more concerning to Clay than the crying. A cloth has been put to your head, held there by your free hand, knuckles tight like you're working off instinct just to keep it there. He's not sure you'd be able to release it with how tight your grip is. He knows head wounds bleed a lot, but that doesn't make seeing the cloth already red with blood, any easier or less worrying.

Clayton's decided he has a new appreciation for how you feel whenever he gets injured on the ice. It's...God, it might be one of the worst things he's ever had to go through.

He's proven right, that you can't seem to let that cloth go when he helps you down from the stretcher and to his car, your hand doesn't move, cloth pressed to stem the flow of blood even when you stumble. He has you in the passenger seat and buckled in as quickly as possible and maybe he breaks a few traffic laws on the way to the hospital, but anyone would. The way you're barely there next to him, so dazed that he's worried the concussion might be something more has him pressing a little harder on the accelerator.

The blood is enough in the emergency room for you to be fast tracked to a doctor and a bed, struggling to sit upright he makes the decision to get up on the bed with you. You rest between his legs, leaning back on him heavily, Clayton the only thing keep you sat upright as the doctor, Dr Pandya, pries the cloth from your hand and assesses the wound.

You shy back into him when the doctor wipes away at the large cut with antiseptic to clean away the blood, only for more to come spilling forth. Clay's arms wrapping tight around your waist, linking your hands with his to give you something to grip onto.

"You need stitches, it's not going to close on its own."

"Okay..." He can tell you're trying to be brave, breathing suddenly heavier, fingers tightening around his until his own start to go numb, but he doesn't complain. Just lets you lean on him, seek support from him.

You're brave throughout the 14 stitches it takes to close up the cut on your temple, more stitches than you've ever had to have in your life. But, you don't complain, don't ask to stop, don't hiss, just let it happen as you grip onto Clay with everything you have. The warmth of his back behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder, pressing kisses to your neck, helps. Having him with you helps.

"All done. You have a concussion and need to rest for at least 2 days before you do anything. Avoid bright lights, loud areas. Keep those stitches dry for at least a day, so no washing your hair just yet unfortunately. If it starts to bruise, ice it."

The doctors turns to Clay this time, "If she starts to seem confused, keeps vomiting or just doesn't seem to be getting any better then bring her back in. But she should be tired for the next few days but start to feel better soon."

"Thank you," You're quiet but polite, not wanting to be rude when someone has taken the time to help you even if it is the doctor's job to do so.

"Thanks, Doc."

There's a quick sort of turn around in which Clay fills out the necessary paper work, financial details, insurance and the like before he's helping you up and out of emergency room.

All you want is to sleep, curl up in bed with Clayton and hide from the pounding in your head, the bright lights and loud sounds of the outside world only making it worse.

He's calmer on the drive home, no more traffic laws being broken even if he grips the steering wheel a little tight and keeps glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, assessing. Some of the panic has eased, but not all. You're still hurt. Concussed, stitched up, definitely going to bruise and swell, and in need of rest. Rest he can't be there for the entire time because of his job. He might have gotten away with leaving the game tonight, but he knows he'll be expected at practice tomorrow, knows he'll be expected at the home game the day after and that means hours of time in which you're alone. He hates the idea of it, already running through a mental list of people he could call.

"I got blood on your jersey..." You're sniffling again when he pulls the car into the driveway, putting it in park. He turns in his seat, leaning an arm on the headrest to watch you. You're staring at the blood stains on the jersey you're wearing, tears dripping down your cheeks and it's...it's so silly and so sweet that some of that panic eases further.

"It's okay, baby, the equipment guys can get the blood out."

"Really?" You look at him so hopefully, so innocently happy. He hates that your reaction is like that because of your injury, at the same time finding it amusing, a small smile reaching his lips for the first time since he saw you take a puck to the face.

"Yeah, baby, they're great at that..."

"Oh..."

There's a beat of silence where you just blink at him, sighing out each breath like even that's too tiring right now. There's blood crusted around your stitches that he knows you're going to get annoyed with while you can't get water near them, bruising starting to pop up around that side of your face, swelling beginning to show and make you look a little lopsided.

"Let's get you inside and into some comfy clothes, yeah? You tired?"

"Really tired..." You blink all slow at him, eyelids feeling supremely heavy and he knows you're going to be out like a light the moment he gets you into the bed. That's reassuring in a way, that you'll find it easy to rest, at least tonight, before the aches fully settle in.

He's tries to be quick getting round to your side of the car but he's starting to feel just as tired. A combination of playing half a game of pro-hockey, the anxiety, panic and worry over your wellbeing, being thrown up on, going all the way to hospital and back, all working to make Clayton feel like dropping where he stands. But, like always you're his priority.

His hands reach for yours, tugging gently to pull you from the car, "Okay, out you get, baby." You go willingly, letting him guide you from the car and through the house. Letting your brain shut off because he's got you. You trust him to guide you around obstacles, through doorways, a level of trust that Clayton can't help but feel honoured by as you let him sit you on the edge of your shared bed.

You blink up at him all slow and sleepy, shoulders slumping and he's certain if you laid down you'd be out in seconds.

"Arms up, baby." You don't question him, don't hesitate, arms straight in the air with the sort of sluggishness that tells him even doing that feels hard right now.

Clay's careful of your hair and your stitches as he pulls the bloodstained jersey over your head, throwing it in a corner to take back to the rink to salvage. You leave your hands up as he helps you out of your undershirt and replaces it with one of your favourite big comfy t-shirts. You don't drop your arms until he tells you to, the sort of obedience you fall into around him because he takes care of you so well that you trust him more than you trust yourself.

"Wanna shower..."

"You can't get your stitches wet yet, sweet girl, tomorrow night I'll help you shower, but not tonight, okay?"

"Okay..." He knows you hate it, your routine is like clockwork. Every evening you shower, washing the dirt and grime of the day away, and breaking that is upsetting to you. But, you trust him. You listen without protest and let him lay you back so he can wriggle your jeans down over your hips and off your ankles, socks coming with.

"Up for me, baby." You reach for him from the first word, arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his chains as he lifts you to your feet, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as he pulls the covers back.

He settles you in against your pillow, swinging your legs up and pulling the covers up to your waist as you cling to him. Your fingers don't detach from his chains, holding tight to him so that he can't pull away, hovering over you.

He's so handsome, maybe it's the concussion talking, but he's always so handsome. Your free hand reaches for his cheek, tracing the skin beneath his eyes and he can't help but smile at you, at the soft way you're gazing up at him. Still dazed, but oh so loving.

"You okay, baby?" He huffs a laugh down at you, teeth peeking out and you love that smile, god it makes him so pretty. So, so pretty. Even prettier when one of his hands cups your cheek like that, long finger stroking the skin gently where your cheek lifts from grinning up at him all dozy.

"Mmm, you're really pretty."

"I think that's your concussion talking, sweet girl." His fingers graze the swollen skin by your stitches lightly, not hard enough to hurt or sting, but a reminder to himself that you've got 14 stitches right now. That right now you're brain is a little scrambled.

"Nuh uh...you're always pretty...I got really lucky." You might be concussed but you know it's true. Clayton's so handsome you spend half your time wondering how you managed to bag him because he could have any woman he wanted and instead he chose you. This handsome, beautiful, kind, caring man, a pro-athlete, and he chose you. Normal, little old you.

"Wrong way around, I'm the lucky one. You took a puck to the face for me, that's pretty hardcore, baby." The blood around your stitches is dry and flaky, proof that today wasn't just a dream or imaginary. Proof that his girlfriend had taken a puck to the face, survived and only vomited once, pretty hardcore.

"Didn't mean to..."

"I know...it worried me though, just glad you're okay."

His fingers caress your skin as silence over takes the two of you, just gazing at each other as each of you feel the other under your fingers. To feel the way you graze the tip of his nose, how you tug a little on his chains to bring him just an inch closer. It's grounding to have you in his hands like that, to feel your warmth, to know you're going to be fine even if he'd been scared today. The whole thing has just solidified in his mind how much he loves you, how much he'd be willing to do for you, to give up for you. That you're it for him whether you realise that or not.

You take a shuddering breath, eyes shifting away from his like you're embarrassed by what you're going to say next even as your fingers tighten around his chains and keep him close. His blue eyes fixed on you, attention unwavering and loyal.

"I was...I was scared I'd be alone...just wanted you..." Your head isn't quite as fuzzy as earlier, but you can remember it clearly. Feeling the panic at the thought that you wanted Clay but he wouldn't be there...then the joy at seeing him, the relief as he ran out in full gear except skates, socks only on his feet.

"You thought I wouldn't be there?"

"You had a game...a-and I didn't know if you'd seen it happen...thought you'd still be playing." It's like you're ashamed for thinking he wouldn't be there, and while he hates that you did, he understands why. There was no guarantee he'd have even know you were hurt, it was just by some fluke of luck, by sheer chance that he'd actually watched the puck fly into the crowd for once. Even then, in some arenas would he have even been able to tell it was you?

"They'd have had to chain me to Schmaltz to keep me on the ice, baby. Always going to be there for you, no matter what. You first. Hockey second." He means it. Hockey has been his life since he could put on a pair of skates, and he'd worked hard for it, always having to do 10 times what the bigger guys did and do it 10 times better. But, you? You're it for him you'll be it for him when he retires from hockey, when he can no longer play and that? That's worth more than a game, even a game he loves. It's practically a proposal in itself, a promise to you because he never wants you to think he'd pick the game over you, especially not when you're hurt.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The smile you give him is blinding, so full of love that he wants to bottle it, memorise it to keep for those bad days. For the days when they've lost a game, for the times when he needs a reminder to keep pushing, to keep going.

"Come to bed?" You try to tug him again by his chains but he unfurls your fingers gentle, one by one, smoothing over your knuckles in reassurance.

"I've got to shower, baby, but I don't want to leave you alone..." The idea of taking his eyes off you, of not being able to see that you're okay for even a minute makes him feel sick.

"You smell like vomit..." You wrinkle up your nose, scrunching your face like you've only just realise that he smells. Your hands pushing on his shoulders a little, moving him away rather than closer and he can't say he blames you. Even he's over the smell now.

"That's your fault, baby."

"'m sorry..." You mumble, warmth flooding your face at the memory of throwing up on him, his hockey gear taking the brunt of it rather than the floor.

"It's okay, I'll go shower, but you'll okay if I leave you for a few minutes?"

You nod your head gently, carefully because nodding too much hurts right now. Clayton presses a quick kiss to your forehead, avoiding the swollen areas of your face before leaving you.

He's no nonsense about it all, washing with a precision and speed that would make the army consider recruiting him. He's thorough, however, skin scrubbed down until he smells like your vanilla body wash and not vomit.

Clay doesn't faff with clothes, just shoves a pair of boxers on and curls up next to you, you're already asleep, mouth open slightly, the tiniest hint of drool at the corners. Endearing. He wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you gently closer until he can curl around you like that might keep you safe from any further puck based incidents.

Clay doesn't sleep...not well at least. He spends half the night just watching you breathe, scared that if he closes his eyes something might happen. A total of 3 hours is all he gets, so when the doorbell rings shrill and loud at 7am all he can do is groan loudly and burrow his face into your shoulder.

The doorbell rings again and he's swearing under his breath because if it's a sales person or a cold caller he might actually commit a crime. All he wants is to stay curled up with you, maybe get some more sleep now you seem a little perkier, eyes blinking open and more coherent than they were yesterday.

"Clay...the door." It's your worry about ignoring it that has him groaning, stretching and shoulders popping as he stumbles out of bed.

"I know, baby...stay here."

He doesn't even bother putting on clothes, just walks to the door in his boxers. Your head might still be fuzzy but you can't help the way your eyes trail over his back, the way his arse looks in his boxes, the thick set of his thighs. You're almost certain he puts an extra little saunter in his step because you're watching.

He kind of hopes whoever has disturbed his rest with his injured girlfriend gets the shock of their life seeing him open the door in just his boxers. Unfortunately, it's just Kesselring, who has seen him in his boxers more times than he can count, completely unphased.

"What're you doing here, Kess?"

"Came to check on Mrs Keller and brought a gift," The taller man holds up a little gift bag and as much as Clayton wants to slam the door in his face he doesn't, just stepping aside to let Kess in.

He leads him to you, where you're wrapped up in all the bed blankets, making yourself a little cocoon and your face brightens at seeing one of your favourite members of his team. Kess is only your favourite because he lets you go round to see the cats whenever you want, whether he's there or not. Or that's what Clayton says to ease any of that ugly little jealous side he has that occasionally rears it's head. Even knowing that Kess treats you more like a sister than anything else.

"For you Mrs Keller," Kess hands you the gift bag even as you swat at him weakly. He'd been calling you that ever since Clayton announced you were dating...the alternative wasn't much better, referring to you as the team mom because Clayton was the team dad.

"Thank you, Michael," You pull out a wad of tissue paper, unfurling it to reveal the last thing Clayton ever wanted to see.

"You brought the thing that nearly killed my girlfriend into the house?" He's actually irrationally angry at the rubber. The black has been cleaned, not a speak of your blood on it and the edge has been covered in white stick tape. In black sharpie, 'the puck-cident March 2025' has been written in Kess' chicken scratch handwriting.

"Kells, it's a puck."

"It nearly killed my girlfriend. It's evil." He sneers at the inanimate object in your hands.

"Clay," you're laughing at him, giggling at the way he glares at a piece of rubber, "It's sweet...Michael, it's very sweet." You turn to the taller man, smiling up at him because it is thoughtful in a weird sort of hockey logic way. To bring you the puck that gave you 14 stitches, like it was some gaming winning puck you scored with.

"Well, figured you might want a souvenir from your puck-cident," Kess grins at both you, the pun so bad that Clayton and yourself are both groaning at him.

Clayton pointing to the door, this time with humour in voice, head shaking, "Out! That was so fucking bad, man!"

"I'm going, cap, Jesus! A guy can't do anything nice these days! What a pucking crime!"

"Kess!"

[thebestsetter]

Isagi loves your thighs. And even though he isn't the type of guy to answer "personality" when asked "Boobs, thighs or ass?", he doesn't want to outright say how attracted he feels to them, mainly because he doesn't want you to think he only cares about your body (even though you know he doesn't).

So, imagine how heavenly it felt the first time he got to sleep on your lap. He remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

He had come home after a tough day of practice, in which his coach seemed even more angry than usual and just determined to make the whole team's day a living hell. Everything in him was aching, from his back to his feet, and he could swear he had a fever or something, because his head was starting to throb too. All Isagi wanted to do was get home and lay down, even if it means sleeping without showering (which shows just how tired he was).

"Honey? You're home!" he heard you saying from the kitchen "Welcome home!"

He tried to answer your sweet voice welcoming him home. He really did. But his mouth just wouldn't answer his brain's commands. So, he was just standing, staring at you with his mouth wide open, looking like an idiot.

"Isagi? Are you feeling alright?"

He couldn't even register what he was doing, but the next thing he knew, he walked closer to you. His body was just moving on it's own, as if being as close to you as possible was as natural for him as breathing.

"Sweetie, you're starting to scare me. Do you need to go to the doctor? Did something happen today at practice?"

He couldn't resist the urge to hug you anymore, even though he was trying to restrain himself because he was still stinky from practice and he knew just how much you hated it when he hugged or kissed you without showering first. He couldn't explain it, but you looked so huggable at the moment! He took a step closer, hugging you tight and burying his face in the crook of your neck, innaling deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. One of his hands was travelling your waist while the other was playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, voice worried yet still not loud enough to make his head ache even more (he doesn't even think your voice will ever be capable of doing him any harm) "You're burning up! You have a fever! I can't believe it, I told you to take better care of yourself!"

Ah. So he was right. He had a fever. That's why training was so hard today.

"Hm" he muttered, still with his head in your neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment you both were having.

"Stay at the couch, I'll go grab some medicine at the bathroom."

"Noooo, don't leave me here" he said, clearly affected by his sickness. It looks like his mouth finally started to work again. "I don't want to be away from youuuu"

"Yoichi, my honey, you're clearly not thinking straight right now. But I won't go away! I'll be back in like 30 seconds. Sit on the couch and count, I swear it won't take long"

He sighed, but complied anyway, sitting at the couch and waiting (im)patiently.

You were right, because in almost no time you came back with pills and a cup of water. If there was a sport where the champion had to be the person who brought a glass of water and medicine to their sick boyfriend the fastest, you would win, Isagi thought (and that thought made him strangely proud).

"Here. Drink it up" he obeyed

"Everything hurts"

"I know it does, love. What you need right now is sleep. Come here" you said, patting your lap. If Yoichi was in his right mind, he would've blushed hard and maybe even denied at first, but he wasn't. He just wanted to rest, and he always dreamed about laying in your lap. So, he quickly grasped the opportunity.

And boy was it as good as he imagined it would be. Even better, actually. Your thighs were fluffier than any other pillows he had ever used before, and he felt like he could hibernate there. And as if it couldn't get any better, you started playing with his hair. He was in heaven. He couldn't even fell the pain anymore, and he was sure it wasn't just the medicine doings.

"I love your thighs" he admitted, a honesty he wouldn't have when he was healthy, which made you chuckle "And I love you too. Thank you." He kissed the inner part of your thigh to show you just how serious he was about it

"I love you too, Yoichi. Now, rest. We don't want the best striker of the world to be sick all week, do we?"

"If it means getting to lay on your lap everyday, I would be sick my whole life"

"You're silly"

"And you're the love of my life"

"Good night, Isagi"

"Good night, my love"

Masterlist

[kimvante2013]

『𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬』 변우석

summary: The feelings between you and your best friend are far from over.

Genre: best friends to lovers,little bit of angst,Byeon Woo Seok x fem!reader,drabble

author notes: After months I came back, today I bring you a drabble about the love of my life, also because I saw "Lovely runner" and I liked it a lot so I got a little inspiration from there, well I hope you enjoy this and later I will bring more about Sun Jae and Woo seok since I don't see many people writing about them, take care and good night :)

Word count: 1089k

The soft ping of my phone broke the quiet hum of my apartment. A message from Woo-seok.

“Hey y/n, do you want to come to my house later? I need to write some lines for my new drama, “Lovely Runner”. You know, the usual, being my personal script coach and all that stuff.”

I smiled, imagining Woo-seok's signature goofy smile. It was almost endearing how he never seemed to take his acting career seriously, even though he was on the verge of becoming a major star. He was still the same goofy, clumsy boy he'd known in high school, the one who always made me laugh.

“Sure, I'll be there in an hour. "What time are you free?" I replied and let the tea sit while he prepared it for me.

An hour later, I found myself outside Woo-seok's elegant apartment building, the imposing structure a stark contrast to the cozy, modest apartment we used to share as roommates in college.

He greeted me with a wide, welcoming smile and a playful push, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the hallway. "You're late," he teased, pushing me inside.

"Traffic," I lied, my cheeks heating up under his gaze. Despite knowing him for years, my heart still pounded when he looked at me like that. He always had this way of making me feel seen, like I was the only person in the room.

His apartment was a testament to his success, modern and elegant, with a wide view of the city skyline. But I still felt at home, filled with the familiar warmth of his presence.

"Let's go to my room," he said, leading me to a well-lit space filled with scripts, props, and a comfortable chair.

"Okay, so this scene is where I first meet my love interest, played by the beautiful, talented, and incredibly charming Ryu Sun-jae," Woo-seok began, his voice dropping to a playful whisper.

I couldn't help but laugh. He was very dramatic, even when he talked about his own work. But his enthusiasm was infectious and I found myself immersed in the story. He ran through the lines, his voice shifting seamlessly between playful banter and sincere emotion.

He was good, really good. He poured his heart and soul into every word, into every gesture, making me forget that he was just watching a friend rehearse.

And this is where I'm supposed to make a grand entrance, you know, like a knight in shining armor. "But I think he's too exaggerated," he muttered, pulling a crumpled script from the table.

"No, I think he's perfect," I said, surprised by my own conviction. "He is your character, it is what makes him unique."

Woo-seok looked at me with a flash of surprise in his eyes. 'Actually? So you think?

"Yes," I nodded, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on me. There was an unspoken connection between us, a bond forged over years of shared laughter, dreams, and late-night chats.

'What do you think he should do here?' He asked, pointing to a particularly difficult line.

'Hmm, maybe try it with a little more vulnerability?' I suggested, my voice softening as I realized how closely I was studying his face.

He nodded, frowning in concentration. He walked the line again, this time with a raw emotion that resonated deeply within me.

"Wow," I sighed, genuinely impressed. 'That's perfect. You captured the uncertainty, the fear, the longing for acceptance. It is brilliant.'

Woo-seok's smile was brighter than the city lights outside. 'You're the best, Y/n. You always know how to make me feel better about my work.

We continued rehearsing until the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the room. As we worked, it felt like we were falling back into the comfortable rhythm of our old college days, time blurring into a cozy, shared memory.

"I think I'm a little hungry," Woo-seok said, breaking the silence. 'How about we order some food?'

"Sounds good to me," I agreed, feeling a warmth spread through me.

While we waited for our food, we sat on the floor and flipped through old photo albums. Laughter filled the room as we recalled silly moments from our past, each image a window into our shared history.

The delivery boy arrived, bringing with him the aroma of spicy noodles and sizzling dumplings. We ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the food and the company.

Later, while we were cleaning, Woo-seok turned to me and his eyes met mine. 'You know, Y/n, I'm so lucky to have you in my life. You have always been there for me, through thick and thin.

I smiled, my heart swelled with warmth. 'Me too, Woo-seok. You are my best friend and I will always be there for you.

He reached out and took my hand, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "I know," he said, his voice low and sincere. "And I'm grateful for that."

For a moment, we stood there, hands clasped and the silence filled with unexpressed emotions. The city outside glowed like a distant dream, but all he could see was Woo-seok, his eyes containing a depth that he knew he couldn't ignore forever.

“I should probably head home,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded and his gaze stopped on my face. "Yeah, I guess you should."

I pulled away, my heart aching with a mix of longing and apprehension.

"I'll see you around, Woo-seok," I said, forcing a smile.

"Yes, definitely," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

When I left his apartment, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between us. The line between friendship and something more had blurred, and I wasn't sure I was ready to cross it.

I had always valued our friendship and the thought of risking it for something uncertain made me sick to my stomach. But the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, and the way he made me feel so seen had awakened a longing inside me that I couldn't ignore.

The lights of the city blur as I walked, my mind replaying the events of the night. I knew I needed time to process everything, to discover my feelings. But one thing was certain: the bond between Woo-seok and I was deeper than simple friendship, and I knew, with a certainty that made my heart ache, that our story was far from over.

[recklesssezon]

𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Alessia encounters an unwanted attention and tries her best to hide it from you, knowing that you would absolutely do anything to keep her safe.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, assault, violence, ptsd, cursing, maybe attempt of murder

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | ik its been two months almost thre-anyways. this is 9 thousand something words and it took a lot of brain capacity.

The night was young, streetlights lit the city as rowdy adults filled London with joyous laughter. It was like any other Saturday night to most but not to Alessia.

She was leaving you home alone to attend Kyra's birthday party along with the other gunners. Usually, you'd be by her side through it all, but you were still healing from your previous fight.

Patched-up cuts and bruises here and there. None that you deemed bed-rest worthy, yet remained home to steer clear of the scolding you would get from your coaches.

So, here you were sitting with a large bucket of popcorn and the latest season of Love Island. It took a great deal to convince Alessia to leave your side for the night, refusing to go firsthand as the urge to smother you with love and care surged as time went on.

After countless reassurances and kisses, Alessia reluctantly switched out joggers for jeans and a pullover for a top. She stood in front of you, twirling to give you the 360. Deep down, you started to regret inducing her to go. While Alessia had a full blowout, you lounged on the loveseat with shorts and a sports bra. "And to think you didn't want to leave."

Alessia grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it, pointing a non-threatening finger at you. "Do not start teasing me. You were the one who was so adamant about me going. It's your fault I'm in this vest instead of my jumper."

"Love, if it makes you feel any better. I prefer you in nothing at all."

Alessia rolled her eyes, crossing her arms in annoyance. You grinned, beckoning her over, even when you managed to annoy her Alessia could never resist you. She trudged to you, pursing her lip when you patted your lap.

You grunted as she plopped down on you, the unexpected force taking you by surprise. It was Alessia's turn to grin, hooking her arms around your neck, yours to her hips. "I take it you didn't like my joke."

You were unfazed by Alessia's evil eye, more than used to it. "You do not get to make jokes like that. You're forcing me to go to a party I don't want to go to and you're watching Love Island without me. You're being mean." You snorted, and with a click, the game show switched to one of your old fights.

Alessia turned her head away, your fights always made her a bit queasy hence why she never watched them. "Yes, how can I be so cruel to my lovely girlfriend? I should be punished for my crimes." Alessia slapped your chest, not a fan of your mockery.

"Quit the sarcasm. Save that for someone else other than the love of your life."

You pecked her cheek, a quick apology. "You're right. The love of my life only deserves respect and devotion." She nodded her head in agreement, her pride growing as she had the big bad fighter everyone knew lay down the treatment she deserves.

"That is correct but don't think this sucking up made me forget what you've done to me."

You groaned, throwing your head back. "Love, you haven't left my side since my fight, normally I wouldn't mind but you've been cooped up all week. And it's Kyra's birthday, imagine the headaches she'll give you for missing it."

Alessia could already see it, Kyra having a kick at her for not showing up. The Australian was known for her little sister energy that never ran out, much to the unlikes of her teammates. Alessia recalled Kyra's recent mischievous act.

A week ago, Steph forgot to grab Kyra's favorite candy when making a store run and a childlike Kyra took it to offense. She hadn't stopped yapping the entire day, Steph departed training with ringing ears that lasted the next day.

Alessia didn't want to have a similar outcome.

"That rascal hid my boots last time because I refused to prank Katie. A nuisance she is." You smiled, Alessia's annoyance that wasn't targeted towards you was amusing to watch. You slipped a hand under her top, rubbing the warm bare skin a contrast to your cold hands.

"So, what I'm hearing is that I'm right."

Alessia gave you no acknowledgment, gasping when she felt your thumb dip below her waistline. You leaned in for a kiss, though you were met with a flat palm to the face. You pulled back, scrunching your nose. Alessia smiled widely, "No messing up my lip gloss, darling."

For the very first, you scowled at Alessia's bright pink lips. The desire to botch Alessia's perfectly applied lipstick grew by the second. You exhaled sharply, leaning back to put some distance between you and her restricted lips. "That's unfair. You look ravishing and you're saying I can't kiss you? Must you tease me?"

Alessia giggled under her breath; she kissed your neck, unapologetic about her teasing. "Oh, my big baby. Have the consequences of your actions come to play?" You frowned at Alessia's mocking pout, the way she spoke as if she were speaking to a child stirred something within you.

You roughly tugged her closer, inches away from her lips. You removed one hand from her hips, gripping her jaw in a tight-loose hold. Your thumb swiped her bottom lip to the corner. Her once-perfect gloss now smudged and not in the way she would have liked.

You brought your thumb to your lips, putting on a little show, humming at the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Alessia froze, she didn't expect you to turn the tables on her so fast. You grabbed Alessia's phone out of her back pocket, hearing a ping. You opened her phone, purposely ignoring her. "Vic's here. You should get going if you don't want to be late."

Alessia remained unmoved, stuck in a trance you led her into. You chuckled, no emotion behind it, standing up causing Alessia no choice but to do so as well. You took her chin in between your two fingers, "A little quiet, aren't we? What's the matter, Alessia? Have the consequences of your actions come to play?"

Alessia gulped at the bite in your tone, she shouldn't have baited you. It always ended with her pinned to the bed, a position she loved yet a lesson she never intend to learn. Alessia's phone pinged once again, she paid it no mind too focus on your little stare-down. "Better get going before Vic comes up and knocks down our door."

Alessia hesitantly took her phone, squinting as if she was trying to figure out your plan. "Just like that?" You raised a brow, ignoring the pinch of pain as your stitches stretched.

"I can do worse than a smeared gloss, you of all people should know that. I suggest you leave now before you don't at all." Alessia's finger hovered over her lips, she could feel the slight stickiness at the corners of her lips. You hadn't done much to taint them, but Alessia wished you did.

Your eyes began to soften at Alessia's timid stature, tipping her head up with a finger. Wiping away the small mess you created. "Have fun tonight, okay? I love you."

A smile grew on Alessia, puckering her lips for a kiss. "I thought you didn't want to ruin your makeup" She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, pulling you down to finally bring you into a kiss you both craved.

Alessia was the first to separate, "I love you too. Don't wait up." She gave you one last peck, grabbing her purse on her way out. Swaying her hips side to side, mindful of your wandering eyes.

"Not having the time of your life are you, Less?"

Lia winced as Alessia's head snapped to her, "I am. Why do you ask?" Lia didn't believe the young girl and it showed, Alessia stuck herself at their rented-out booth, doing nothing else other than sipping on her club soda.

"You haven't moved since we got here. What? Are you not used to having your little bloodhound with you?"

That got a laugh out of Alessia, Lia grinned cheekily. You were always a topic used to tease Alessia, two total opposites that fit together like a puzzle. She pushed the national captain as she poked fun at her. You were deemed 'The Bloodhound' early in your career by the media after endless fights where you left the cage a bloodbath.

"You can say that. She's still heal-" The boisterous of their teammates cut Alessia off, stumbling and cackling at whatever their drunk minds thought was funny. Leah threw herself next to Lia, pointing to Katie, her finger unsteadied as a result of her tipsiness. "I got it last time, McCard. It's your turn."

The Irish childishly shook her head, throwing up the bird, "No." Leah huffed, her infamous frown appearing.  She turned to the person next to Katie. "Fine. Caitlin, you go."

"She's not going."

The blonde threw her arms up in frustration, so much for being capitan. "Someone had to go, Katie! You've been weaseling your way out of rounds for the last two months!" The said weasel denied it, though the smirk on her lips said otherwise.

Leah's glare intensified, she wasn't a quitter, far from it. Even as a drunk, giving up was never in her dictionary. She stood up, ready to drag the queen of reds to do her go.

Lia, being the only sensible one there, quickly sat the Williamson down, giving her a warning not to start a fight.

"What about our depressed lover over there? She hasn't done anything. No dancing, no drinking. A little mood killer if you ask me." Katie winced as she received slaps from all around, unable to pinpoint who exactly hit her. Alessia cleared her throat, dumbfounded by how she got dragged in.

Lia held out a hand, stopping Katie from going off her rockers and possibly digging her own grave if you were to find out about how she spoke to your fiancé. "Hey, now. Alessia isn't in the mood, we should respect that and be happy she's even here." Alessia squeezed Lia's hand, thanking her for coming to her defense.

However, the people-pleaser side of Alessia won. She moved to stand, but Lia's hand halted her from doing any further. Her concerns made Alessia glad that she had someone in her corner for the wild night. "It's fine. She's sorta right, I've been a killjoy. Maybe this will loosen me up."

"Are you sure?"

Alessia gave Lia the okay, slipping out of her hold, and down to the crowd. Internally gagging at the stench of body odor hitting her unexpectedly. Fresh air welcomed her as she exited the crowd, breathing deeply, the cool air traveled through and around her body.

She rested her arms on the bar, calling the bartender for the round she volunteered to collect. Alessia daydreamed as she waited, snuggling up against you after tonight sounded like the perfect dream to make into a reality.

"Hi."

Alessia didn't flinch at the new voice, too caught up with herself to realize that she was being spoken to. She jumped slightly at the tap on her shoulder, surprised by the close proximity. "Oh, hi." It was small and brief, a simple acknowledgment of him. That's all. At least Alessia thought it was.

"Are you here alone?"

Alessia shook her head uninterested, looking back at the bartender to see if he was preparing her order. He wasn't.

"Who are you here with?"

She sighed, annoyed that he couldn't get the hint. Unbothered to look at him, Alessia answered, hoping the mentioned presence of her team would scare him off. "I'm here with my mates."

"Brilliant. Would your mates mind if I tag along?"

Alessia isn't the type to be easily angered, she grew up with two brothers by force she learned how to have more patience than the average person when it came to men and their small minds.

But something about this stranger irked her. So, she bit her tongue of what she really wanted to say, 'fuck off' and instead said, "They would actually. It's a girl's night and they'll be really upset if it was intruded."

Her saving grave, the bartender came back and he wasn't alone. Alessia quickly picked up the platter, leaving without so much of a goodbye.

There were no cheers or clicking of the shots, as everyone threw their head back to down the hard liquid. Kyra emerged from the crowd, eyes blown and a big smile that stretched cheek to cheek.

She latched onto Alessia's arm, "You're being boring tonight! It's my birthday!" Kyra tugged her to the middle of the room, an area Alessia tried to avoid.

Alessia grabbed onto the nearest person, drawing them along, soon enough a chain of gunners were trailing behind her. Alessia took shot after shot, shortly after, her body relaxed into the rhythmic beats.

She neglected to notice the unexpected hands on her waist as the hands closed around her, squeezing tightly, Alessia instantly knew that these hands weren't a friend of hers.

She roughly pulled away, spinning to see the stranger from the bar. He wore a smirk, smug that he got as close as he did with her. "What the hell are you doing?" He threw his arms to the side, showcasing a little dance of his.

"Dancing, dear. Come back, we were just having some fun."

Alessia shook her head, disgust seeped under her skin. She felt repulsed at some stranger touching her. "No, leave me alone. I am not interested."

"It looked like you were pretty interested. What was that move you did? The one where you were moving your hips side to side. Do you mind doing that again?"

Alessia turned away, thinking it would be best to take her leave rather than speak to him any further. Alas, the stranger couldn't care less. He followed Alessia, shoving bystanders out of his way. "Wait! Do not run off!" She ignored him, scurrying to the booth of gunners.

Just as Alessia was about to reach the table, she was pulled back. She gasped as a huge body engulfed her, Alessia mustered up the strength to push away but the attempt was too futile. "Get off!"

Alessia curled up as much as she could in his hold, his efforts to land a kiss on her neck was challenged by her strong resistance. "I'm a nice lad! Don't be so difficult!" He laughed in disbelief as Alessia struggled, the scene began to gather the attention of nearby clubbers.

"Let me go! Fuckin prick!"

Everything happened in a flash, Alessia was yanked away, bodies meddled between him and her. Mixture of brunettes and blondes filled Alessia's sight.

"You're okay. They're handling it."

Alessia could hardly register Viv's soft voice, the tall Dutch led her out the club, withdrawing from the chaos as the fight got bigger. Viv rubbed circles on her back, trying to calm the shaken girl.

She ignored the security guards that rushed into the building, faint sounds of glass breaking reached her ears. "I'll take you home as soon as Beth is done."

Panic swept through Alessia, red eyes going wide at the thought of returning home. "No! If I go home, she'll know something happened. I can't- I can't-" Viv hushed Alessia, hugging the younger as she spiraled.

Alessia didn't have to specify who she was talking about, only one person was waiting at home for Alessia. That person is you.

"Less, are you scared of yn?"

It was a question Viv didn't want to ask but did. Alessia's reaction to going home wasn't normal especially if it held the person who loved you and you, her. It's a red flag that Viv wasn't so quick to brush off.

Alessia flinched, staring at Viv as if she said the most absurd thing known to man. "What? No! No! Never! I'm scared for her! If she finds out what happened tonight-" Alessia suddenly stopped, she didn't want to believe what happened, happened.

How close he was, how his hands were all around her, how she felt his front pressed up against her. It physically and mentally sickened Alessia to the core.

She collected herself the best she could, staring straight into Viv's eyes. "She'll kill him. Viv, those beatings she does in the cages are nothing. That's her having fun. But this will set her off. You have to promise me that yn wouldn't hear a word about this. Viv promise me."

You couldn't find out, not when Alessia knew the lengths you'd go to protect her. Not when she knew how ill-tempered you were and how easily you got lost in your fit of anger. Alessia was your weakness, she knew that you knew that. Which is why you couldn't know, Alessia had no doubt you'd go on a manhunt to track down whoever harmed her.

Viv gazed into the abyss, unable to comprehend the fear Alessia had for you. You were someone with physical power, that Viv knew, you had the skills and scars to prove it. It was what you trained for, nearly two decades you've been building up your skills to hurt people for a living.

The active terror Alessia showed let Viv know that you were lawless by your own rules. "Okay, okay. I promise. And the others will too." That calmed Alessia down a bit, she leaned into Viv's side watching the passing cars as they waited for the rest.

"Fuck off!"

Katie came out first, followed by the rest of the players and security guards. Yelling and cursing lingered in the air, Viv ignored it, guiding Alessia to the car. "Let's wait in the car. It'll be a while before they quiet down."

The unfortunate events replayed in her mind like a broken record, it kept playing and playing. If she was lucky, sometimes it'd short-circuit. Then, all she could see was you, it felt like a dream. Like you weren't real, and that she was simply imagining someone to protect her to the very end.

But you were real.

You were real and Alessia had a tough time believing that. Believing that you her knight in shining armor. Whispers of promises in her ear at night, how you engraved that into her. But, you were nowhere to be seen when Alessia needed you the most. Instead, you were at home resting.

Part of Alessia wanted to blame you, yet she couldn't, she wouldn't. Not when you were her person, especially not when Alessia understood very well that if you were with her, you'd be in a jail cell by the time the sun rose.

You lost the ability of control when it came to Alessia, if someone were to so much as trip her, you'd return the favor tenfold. The more Alessia thought about you, the more she desired to go home.

"Hungry? We can go to Greggs."

Beth peered over at Alessia, the young striker hadn't made a peep since arriving at the couple's flat and that was hours ago. Beth and Viv stayed up the entire night nurturing Alessia to a certain extent, she allowed. Which wasn't much.

She inhabited the couch corner, not even a slight inch off. She hadn't spoken, eaten, or moved, her brain going haywire, and they couldn't do anything about it.

Beth kneeled, placing a comforting hand on Alessia's knee, gaining her attention without spooking her. "Why don't you take a shower? I imagine sticky sweat isn't the best feeling on the body."

Ease rippled through the couple as Alessia finally moved in the last eight hours, though it was short as Alessia's movements were slow and calculated. Beth patiently waited for her, directing Alessia to the awaiting shower that called her.

The shower did more than just cleanse Alessia of sweat, the overwhelming emotions of the night washed down the drain never to be seen or felt again. Alessia preferred it that way, it was better to believe that it was gone rather than it be stuck on her.

She'd rather be numb than feel what she felt in that dreadful encounter.

Alessia avoided looking into the mirror, squeezing the towel around her tight as she exited the warm steam. The coldness of the early morning greeted her, she walked over to the bed, holding up the Arsenal pull-over Beth set out for her.

She quickly put it on, brushing it down only for her eyes to catch the coloring on her hips. Her fingers lightly grazed the finger-print bruises, her breath hitches as flashbacks of his firm grip on her were physically felt in that second.

Alessia wanted to cry, she didn't want to feel as if someone was standing behind her, she didn't want to feel as if she was being touched like some sort of pet.

Alessia pushed down her tears along with anything else rising to the surface. She walked out the room, the conversation hushed as she came into view, and Alessia didn't care to bring it up knowing fully well it was about her. She sat next to Viv barely returning a smile, "Feel better?" Alessia ignored her, that was the better option.

The truth would raise more questions than she could handle right now. "I'm going home. Yn probably stayed up for me and I don't want to keep her waiting any longer." Understatement of the century. Alessia couldn't grasp the fact that time passed, only assuming, too stuck in her void to feel time's existence.

"Don't fret. I called her and told her you were too tired to make it home. She knows you're here."

Stunned, Alessia sent Beth a nod. "Thanks, but I should really get going." Viv and Beth got the obvious hint that Alessia didn't want to be there anymore, she quickly shoved her phone in her pocket, zipping past them.

The couple hastily followed behind, catching Alessia right at the door. "Let us drive you. We can get Greggs on the way." They didn't give Alessia too much room to argue, Viv grabbed her keys as Beth pushed her out the flat.

"You can ride front seat."

Alessia carefully closed the door, releasing a breath now that she was alone. Beth and Viv had been absolutely sweethearts to Alessia during her stay, but she needed time to herself, time away from eyes that were waiting for her to break.

Slowly and quietly, she shuffled to the kitchen, not a single object out of place since she left. Alessia grabbed a water bottle, the first source of intake she allowed her body to have. The Greggs paper bag perched on the counter, dismissing what Viv had gotten her.

In the safety of her own home, Alessia felt her body ease into itself, the familiarity of these four walls secured her protection and well-being. Something Alessia never thought she'd crave so much.

She went in search of the only person wanted, needed. Weights were lifted off of Alessia's chest when she caught you sleeping in bed, looking ever the most peaceful. A state that she wasn't going to ruin with the truth.

Alessia brushed loose strands out your face, laying on her side, snuggling up in your arms absent from the scary world. Her breath hitches as you pull her closer, "You're back." Your voice husky, eyes still shut half-asleep. Alessia's fingers found your dog tag, turning it over to see the engravement of her name and jersey number. A chain you wore proudly. "I'm back."

"Did you have fun?"

Her fiddling stopped, a small shutter of breath escaped her as the haunting hours came back, this is where Alessia was supposed to spew a little white lie. But she couldn't. Never has Alessia lied to you, never thinking she would need to. This would be a lot harder than she thought.

"Less, is everything okay?"

Your eyes barely opened, the bright light peaked through the curtain nerved your sensitivity. Alessia used her finger to soothe your wrinkles, humming as she tried to lull you back to sleep. "Can't remember much of it. I had too much to drink."

Two lies in one.

Alessia remembered everything and frankly, she didn't drink enough to forget.

You patted her back, comforting, "That's alright. You're home now." Your words brought her more comfort than you can imagine. Alessia was home now; she was home with you, within these four walls. She couldn't be more safer than she is right now.

In your upcoming years as a fighter, you were taught to control your emotions going as far as to eliminate them. The human instinct to feel sympathy for beating another wasn't an option when it came down to winning titles.

By default, you suppressed them to the alternatives outside the cage. Thus, you didn't experience the depths of anxiety or stress like many others did.

But, in recent times it seems as if you're experiencing life in a new manner. You've never been more uneased as you have in the past week. Even minutes before your matches were you never this stressed.

And the main reason for it all is Alessia. The only person in the world to cause you to feel things you normally wouldn't. A blessing and a curse.

Alessia wasn't acting like herself lately, a bit distant something she never was before. Alessia, by nature, was clingy. She clung onto you like a koala does a tree, cuddles, hugs, anything to make your bodies become one, she did. Which is why, her being so distant with you was concerning.

It's been a couple of days since her behavior shifted, at first you thought it was due to the rough start of the week, you were back in camp for your next fight thus your time with Alessia was shorten, she as well was dealing with some tension at work, none she was willing to elaborate.

You figured she needed some alone time to get through.

You tried to be there when she seeked you, yet she hardly did. And you didn't want to push her during a tender time, so you let her be until she was ready. Though, that didn't stop you from actively caring about her, little things such as making her breakfast, washing her uniform, nothing excessive in your mind. Still, Alessia appreciated it all.

Curiosity spiked when she began to wear long sleeves as if it were a second skin, typically you'd brush it off, thinking she hopped on some sort of fashion trend, but the summer heat had her drenched in sweat.

Your attempts to get her into your shirts-which she loved to steal and wear-was useless. Refusing constantly, Alessia stuck to her long-sleeves. You didn't push further, despite your worry each time she went out.

The electricity bill was off the charts that month in turn to keep her cool.

Your agitation heightened when Alessia started to spend more time in the guestroom, it was odd at first considering she rarely stepped foot in the room, in the two years you've lived there.

Guests sleeping over wasn't common therefore your guestroom remained unoccupied most of the time. Not anymore now that Alessia had taken the room for herself.

Aside from the guestroom, it appeared as if you were living alone. You were the only one occupying the common spaces, Alessia nowhere to be seen unless you looked for her. Eventually, your small time together doubled down to nil.

It pained you to see Alessia isolate herself, the last time she acted in such a way was when she was coping with body issues. An unpretty chapter in Alessia's life that none of you spoke about. To prevent a defense lock if confronted, you did whatever you could to build Alessia's self-love without addressing the matter upfront.

It was a bit difficult at first since Alessia's determination to avoid you persisted. You were limited to passing compliments, soft touches, and love letters that you laid in the middle of the bed for her to read when she got home.

Your brief time didn't stop you from showering your girl with the love that she needed and deserved.

The rough week passed and Alessia semi-returned to her normal state. She went back to stealing- your shirts, a more fitting attire for the summer- and her time in the guestroom lessened. She still retreated to the room here and there for an hour or two, nothing you were too worried about now that she seemed better.

Everything was going back to place that is up until, the festival incident.

It happened on a Wednesday afternoon, you and Alessia had gotten caught in the middle of a London festival. One you were aware of too late and thanks to your ignorance, Alessia faced the consequences.

You pushed through the busy festive, pulling Alessia by hand. Bodies pressed up against each other tight spaced, trumpets and cheers blaring in your ears. Rising temper balancing on the cliff's edge as you kept trying to find an escape route, the provoking factors placed you and Alessia on the brink of disaster.

You stood at a whopping six feet using the height advantage to look for an outlet, naive to the shifts in Alessia's breathing. Behind you, Alessia felt her mind and body going haywire.

She could feel her heart beating against her chest, head whipping side to side anxiously seeking for an out. Her throat closed up at the multiple touches on her, she shut her eyes to block out her surroundings but that only made it worse as she instinctively focused on her senses.

Alessia's eyes snapped open, feeling you tug on her. She instantly found your figure, taking her all to concentrate on you. Alessia internally struggled to not think about the prying flashbacks at the back of her mind.

It fought so hard to come forward, to torture her in broad daylight, but Alessia fought harder. She tried to pinpoint the difference between then and now.

The sun was the first she identified, the sun gave her clear view of everyone and everything around her, unlike the colored lights in the dark club. Then there was you. You were the major detail that differed to Alessia, you were there to protect and love her, that's all Alessia needed.

Yet, it didn't stop the strength draining from her body, replaced by what Alessia could distinguish as emptiness. It was in her best efforts to push down the vile feelings, but it was all in vain.

You stumbled back as you felt a cease in Alessia's step. You looked over your shoulder to see her head down, her form shaking like a madman. Without thinking, you closed the distance, calling out to her, but she made no sign that she heard you.

You lifted her head, eyes gaping when Alessia's red teary eyes made contact with yours. Less than a second, you wrapped Alessia in your arms, forcibly pulling her through the crowd, recklessly pushing people out of your way.

You sighed in relief as you and Alessia finally broke free of the bustling street ducking into a small alley. You leaned up against the building, Alessia sobbed into your neck as you settled her. Tears flowed nonstop, you ran your fingers through her hair, humming to tune out the festival's band.

"Can we go home please?"

Alessia looked up at you with her big blue puffy eyes, your heart broke. Your thumb wiped away the lone tear, pecking her forehead. The answer was a no-brainer, you pulled down your hood on Alessia's head, guiding her out the alley and to a taxi, keeping her as close as possible through it all.

For the next few days, you and Alessia isolated yourselves from the world. Alessia didn't want to speak further about it and as much you wanted to, you knew better than to push. You were just glad she wasn't shutting herself in the other room like before.

And Alessia hated it, she hated that you were walking on eggshells with her. She didn't want you to treat her as if she's fragile. Alessia's strong, she knew that she believed it, so why didn't she feel like it?

Instead, she felt suffocated. Alessia began to loathe herself because of it. The constant looks over her shoulder, checking her body as if bruises will appear, it's been two weeks and she can't move on.

A concern started to brew in Alessia's mind, she feared that your relationship may be the cost of her erratic paranoia.

In attempts to salvage or drag out the inevitable, Alessia spent more time with you, she no longer went on your daily walks, but rather to sit on the balcony for her daily fresh air. You didn't mind, she knew that you only went on those walks because Alessia suggested it first, couples' cardio she said.

In all her years, Alessia didn't know what to do, she didn't know how to save herself.

Too stuck in her head to feel Kyra poking her, the Australian entertained herself jabbing the mindless blonde. Giggling when Alessia didn't flinch at the dirty towel thrown at her face.

The younger picked up her water bottle spraying at Alessia, bursting out laughing when she screeched. "Kyra! Go away!" The mischievous player dodged the towel thrown back at her, running away before Alessia could do worse.

Alessia wiped the wetness with her shirt, thankful for Kyra unintentionally pulling her out of her prisoned thoughts. Leah patted the striker's shoulder, pitiful that Alessia had been chosen to be on the end of Kyra's pranks. "So, is the hound coming next week?" Alessia's lip twitched at your alias.

"What's next week?"

"You forgot? The sporting event remember, Jona told us two months ago."

Alessia racked her brain, trying to remember the said event. Then, it hit her, it was a small thing some organization was having to spread the word of football, gain some investors, nothing Alessia wanted to do with. She shook her head, tying up her laces. "I'll skip out. Not in the mood for socializing."

Leah gave her a look, "Mate, it's mandatory. You can't get out of it." Alessia groaned, her plans to laze around with you was a bust. Alessia liked the small bubble, you and her built in your time together, and she wasn't planning on leaving it so soon. But, it looks like she didn't have a choice.

"I'll ask her."

"Is there really a point to? We all know what she's going to say."

Alessia pushed Leah, the captain grinning cheekily at her, a teasing underlining in her words. Everyone who knew you and Alessia's relationship personally knew that you'd do anything she asked.

If Alessia wanted food from a place a town a way, best be known that you're driving all the way there. If she wanted a new car, you're taking her to the dealership within the next hour. In this case, you'd be attending before you were even made aware of it.

"Okay, I'll stop with the teasing...for now. We'll see you there, oh, and it's a white-themed dress code. So, tell the missus, no black. It's not a funeral." Alessia snorted, waving to Leah as she left the locker room. The drive home was about as peaceful as one can be after a long day at work.

Alessia pulled into the lot, funny enough, catching you as you stepped out of your car with a takeaway bag. She kissed you, your favorite way to be greeted by the love of your life.

You swung her gym bag over your shoulder. "What did you get?"

"A protein bowl from that Japanese restaurant down the street and your usual."

Alessia grinned, pecking you on the cheek. "You're the best." You hummed tiredly, holding the door open for her. "I have to speak to you about something." You perked, thinking that she would finally be open about what's happening these few weeks.

"There's this thing, me and the girls are attending. It's obligated that we go but on the bright side, we can bring a plus one. So, darling will you be my plus one?"

You deflated, disappointed but smiled nonetheless. Setting the bag aside, wrapping an arm around her waist, "I would love nothing more. Now, let's eat up. I'm starving."

"It also has an all-white attire. So, no digging deep in your closet for your black suits, darling."

"Son of a bitch!"

"Damn, mami!"

Alessia fought back a smile as you exclaimed loudly, she placed her hand in your reaching one, unable to fight a growing grin any further. She squealed as you spun her, her dress flowing in the air. "You look so good. Are you trying to put me to shame?"

Alessia rolled her eyes, slapping your chest, passing over to the mirror to put on the finishing touches to her outfit. "You flatter me too much." You looked at your girlfriend through the mirror, clearly offended by her words.

"If this is too much, then I'm not doing a good job. Because my girl deserves all the compliments in the world."

You rested on her shoulder, Alessia applied her red lipstick, in your mind she did it too slowly. "You do an excellent job, my love. I can promise you that." Alessia handed you her necklace, beaming at the sight. It wasn't just any necklace, but a 23-karat diamond necklace. One of its kind, personally designed for her.

You gifted to her on your first anniversary, a token that she belonged to you, an object of your love for her.

You clipped it, staring intently as she stroked the diamonds around her neck. Alessia's eyes flickered up to you, blushing, instantly recognizing the emotion swirling in your eyes. You bowed down to kiss upon it, your gloss sticking to her neck painting it with the outline of your lips.

Alessia tilted her head to the side, eyes closing in bliss. You pulled her closer by the waist, your fingertips resting on the zipper. Alessia pulled away when she felt the dress loosen around her, "We can't." You huffed at her breathless words, drooping your forehead on her uncovered back.

"Why? No one will notice us missing."

"Kim will. She'll have me running laps next practice."

You rezip up Alessia's dress, creating some needed distance. "We can't have that now, can we? Let's get going before I rip that dress off." You led her out of the flat, focusing on the numbers as the elevator went.

Internally fighting the urge to drag Alessia back to bed and have your way with her.

You grunted, feeling the hovers of Alessia's fingers dancing across your chest as she played with the buttons on your shirt. You wore a white pantsuit, two out of five unbuttoned, revealing your cleavage and dog-tag.

You looked too good, the longer Alessia studied you, the more regret bubbled in her stomach. She jumped at the elevator chime, you chuckled removing her hand from your chest, intertwining them. 

You opened the car door for her, bending down to match her height as she sat in the passenger seat. The proclaimed passenger princess. "You gone a little quiet, Less." She ignored you, texting whoever was on the other end of the line.

You mockingly pouted, "Don't be bratty with me, love. You're the one who didn't want to take one for the team and run laps." You chuckled at Alessia's silence, walking to the driver side.

You cleared your throat, sipping on a glass of bourbon. Classical music played while businesswomen and men spoke as if they'd do any actual work outside this meaningless gathering. You scanned the room; blinded by the bright white all around. Not an interesting thing in sight.

You concluded that white parties sucked, and parties hosted by old men sucked even more. Them and their greedy ass money, you grimaced as the cheap liquor coated your throat, their inability to buy a good brand irked you.

You hid away in the corner with Alessia and her team, hanging off Alessia's shoulder like a piece of meat. You had no business being there, other than being her eye candy.

Usually, you'd be talking to Katie about her newly collection of red cards that never seemed to stay consistent, but she was too busy sucking up to her girlfriend and there was no way you'll get in the middle of that.

You prepared yourself as your eyes caught Kyra walking over after being shooed off by Leah, the mischievous smirk on her lips let you know that she found her next target, you.

Kyra plopped beside you, instantly ambushing you. You smacked Kyra's prying hands, "Kyra down! Down Kyra!" The little tussle wasn't fair, you refused to remove your arm from Alessia, but even with one hand, you were stronger than Kyra.

The younger girl ignored your demands, continuing her attempts to wrangle your drink out of your possession and into her mouth. "Kyra! I'll buy you a fucking drink! For fuck sakes!" Immediately, like an obedient puppy, Kyra unlatched herself from you, hands intertwined in her lap as she smiled innocently at you.

You whispered your departure to Alessia, well aware that you were doing everyone a favor by taking Kya away. "Follow me, you brat." She trailed behind you, sticking her tongue out at Steph when the older Australian caught her shadowing you to the bar.

As you left with the little troublemaker, the atmosphere in the Arsenal corner became a little calmer. Alessia giggled At Vic's story, the Dutch dodging the slap Alessia delivered, poking fun when she missed.

Vic's laughter died down as her eyes caught on something or someone. Alessia of her own subsided, curiosity knocked on her chest as Vic's body language changed into something Alessia couldn't identify.

"Less, is that the guy from the pub a few weeks back? The one who-"

Vic couldn't bring herself to finish, the effect still remained with Alessia, it was evident to all the girls. Alessia slowly and surely began to act like herself again, but the Arsenal girls knew better. They knew better than what Alessia was leading on.

She squinted as if it would help her see better through the vast crowd, a few bodies shuffled to the side revealing the reason for her all her recent troubles.

London was a big city, the percentage of running into the same people is less than one. The world had to be playing some sick joke on Alessia, as though it wanted blood to be spilled tonight. Something Alessia's been terribly trying to avoid.

Warmth drained out her system, suddenly everything felt chilly yet sweat lingered near her hairline. Alessia struggled to allow oxygen into her lungs, head snapping left and right,desperate to find you.

Vic tried to calm her, speaking in hush tones to get Alessia's attention. But it was useless, Vic called Leah over. Despite yelling for Leah, the entire team heard the urgency in her voice.

They rushed over, huddling over Alessia's shaking figure. Leah kneeled, cupping Alessia's face in her hands, coaching her through her panic. "Less! Alessia! Breath! Mate, breath!"

You shoved Kyra when she blew in your ear, rubbing the ticklish feeling away, never have you met someone so fearless of you. Granted everyone knew you wouldn't hurt Kyra despite her annoying antics. "You little shit, I swear-"

"Are you that MMA fighter? The Bloodhound, right?"

Kyra snickered, you pursed your lips giving her a look, one that meant that you're little fued wasn't over. You turned to the man in suit, he looked like every man in the room...dull. Can no man dress to save their life?

"Yeah, what's up?"

Kyra peeked over your shoulder, wanting a look at who took your attention away from her. Dread, that's all Kyra felt at the sight of him. She couldn't forget him, the bastard that hurt her best friend, someone you didn't know existed until now.

Kyra was aware of Alessia's severe desire to keep what had happened at her birthday celebration a secret.

Steph and Caitlin practically drilled it in her mind, not to slip up when you were around. Kyra didn't expect to see him again, no one did. But, to have him up front and center talking to you freely after what he had done to Alessia, sickened Kyra.

The Aussie searched for her teammates, hoping to catch someone's eye to tell them of the presence of their number one hit list. And Kyra did, however, it wasn't as she had hoped. Laura frenetically waved her over, pointing to you urgently.

"Do you mind if we took a picture?"

Before you could answer, Kyra wasted no time, pulling you away in the direction of her team. You let Kyra do as she pleased, taking in her hurried steps and anxious expression to mind. "Kyra, what-"

"Yn!"

You rushed past those in your way, cupping Alessia's face in your hands. Deja vu hit you like a truck, red teary eyes staring deep into your soul. You placed her on your lap, coaxing her to take deeper breaths. "I'm here, baby. I'm here."

You looked at the Arsenal women for answers, their troubled aura triggered the heap of anger lying underneath your skin. "What the hell happened?"

Some stared at you and Alessia with sorrow, others avoided your eyes, looking at literally anything else.

Out of everyone, the only person who had the galls to look you in the eyes was the captain herself. "Mate, it's not for us to say." Leah glanced over to Alessia, silently telling you that if you wanted answers it would have to come for her.

Leah loved Alessia like her own sister and she couldn't watch her be destroyed by what happened and as your friend, she couldn't allow you to suffer in the dark, clueless.

"Less?"

Alessia's refusal to meet your eyes remained, your jaw clenched. You loved her with all your being, but the anger brewing was too hot to handle. Everyone knew something you didn't, something regarding Alessia, and it didn't take a genius to know that it was serious.

"Alessia." Your voice stern, you were no longer allowing Alessia's excuses to fly over your head. Alessia shook her head, "Please. Please don't make me." Your heart clenched at her pleading, deep down you didn't want to pressure her, but she left you no choice.

"Alessia, what am I missing? What are they hiding? What are you hiding?"

Alessia looked at her friends for help, at the back of her mind, she knew they couldn't. But it was worth a try. Lia nods in encouragement, something so small but so powerful for Alessia.

She cradled your jaw, leaning in your ear, unwilling to see your murderous anger spiral to what she knows will end in crime scene.

The gunners observed as your face hardened, concern switched to rage in seconds. Your brows deepened, jaw and lip tight, what caught their attention was your clenched fists. Veins popped out from your arms to the back of your hand, knuckles ready to take some action.

Alessia pulled back, caressing your pale knuckles. Her lips moved but nothing was coming out of them. You couldn't hear her begging you to not do anything, you couldn't hear her tell you she loved you. You couldn't hear anything but your blood pumping in your ears.

You abruptly stood up, bringing Alessia up with you. You passed your fiance to the nearest person, Beth. "Get her out of here." You pecked Alessia's forehead, ignoring her calls for you to come back. You head to Katie, the sole person on the team who supported violence. "Where is he?"

Wordlessly, Katie pointed him out and what do you know? It's the same dude that asked you for a photo, you scoffed at the sheer audacity of men. You pushed past Katie, sidestepping Leah's hand.

You expertly navigated through the crowd, stalking up to him. Even at a distance, you could make out his figure, he was lean and scrawny, nowhere near your built physique.

You sized him up as you approached, just in time, he turned to notice you, overlooking the smoke coming out of your ears. "Hey! Back for that pic-" His words cut with a right hook to the cheek, and in no time, he dropped to the floor.

You climbed on top of him, balling his collar in your fist, the other delivering strike after strike.

The feeling of your knuckles connecting with his jaw was exhilarating, with every punch you imagine his bones cracking. You grunted as he fought against you, but he was weak.

The first blow was enough to knock him on his back, the countless you landed after offered multiple hospitalization conditions.

You yelled as you felt hands pulling you off. You shoved the random men off you, glaring them down as they took in your physical state. "Touch me again! I'll fuck all of you up!" You momentarily forgot that this was a sports event, the people surrounding you most likely knew who you were.

You watched recognition hit them now that you were in your true form. They heed your words standing back to let you do what you were trained to do. They couldn't save a man getting beaten, but they can definitely save themselves from you.

Huffing, you quickly grabbed the bleeding man by the throat, slamming him onto the bar. The sound of glass pierced everyone's ears, but you paid it no mind. Holding his upper body against the bar, smashing his face in.

You were aware that even your worst opponents didn't get this type of treatment, he was different. He touched your girl, he hurt her, and he was going to pay for it with his life. "Why did you touch her?! Huh?!" An answerless question, you didn't want an answer.

And it wasn't like you were going to get one, the amount of blood flooding his mouth limited him aside from his faint pleas for you to stop.

That only angered you further. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" You let him fall to the floor once again, neglecting the slippery coat on your hands.

Alessia watched from afar as you mounted the stagnant body, repeatedly bashing his face. Beth tried to drag her out of the venue, but Alessia's too stubborn.

You did so much critical damage in a short span period, even from where she stood Alessia could see the blood streaks on the bar and floor. Leah took off first, Katie, Stina, and Steph following behind.

They all knew that you weren't going to let up any time soon and if you weren't stopped now. You were actually going to commit homicide.

Leah and Katie hook their arm around you, yanking you off. "That's enough! He's down!" It was a struggle for the two, you were too strong for them. Steph eventually aided in holding you back, and Stina helped push you four towards the exit.

Alessia quickly ran after you, the rest of the gooners chasing behind, unable to fight the curiosity to check the result of your wrath. When they got outside, they were met with you kicking a poor trash can into the road.

The four that dragged you out stood a safe distance away. The street bustling with dim lights and occasionally passing cars.

Alessia joined the four girls, knowing better than to interfere in your fit of rage when it was at its peak. Alessia studied your new appearance, growing breathless.

Hair ruffled; shirt wrinkled...stained with red patched. It was what Alessia was afraid of, you covered in red. You had blood splattered across your face; blood handprints swiped across your neck, your fists being the most coated.

You rubbed your hands together as if you were moisturizing, the blood quickly drying due to the cold night air. You sighed, a bit calmer now, muttering nonsense to yourself as you paced up and down the sidewalk.

Alessia took it as her cue to walk over, none of the gunners tried to stop Alessia. Wise enough to know that you would never hurt Alessia even in a foot of rage. "Baby. Baby." Her voice was soft, not to startle you.

Your wide eyes darted to her, unexpected by her presence. You were too lost in your fury to be conscious of your surroundings.

She tried to reach for you, but you retreated, shaking your head. "I'm okay, darling. You won't hurt me." You swallowed the lump in your throat, Alessia tried once more, pleased when you didn't move away.

She grabbed your hands, inspecting the cuts on your knuckles, it was hard to see but Alessia managed to pick out the open wounds.

She ignored the blood on her hands, roughly pulling you into a hug. The weighing of all these weeks came crashing down on Alessia, relief flooded her. However that relief was cut short by the sound of sirens, "We have to go! Now!"

Alessia balled the bloodied clothes, throwing them in the trash, it consisted of your entire outfit along with her dress. Its beauty gone as soon as another color tainted it.

Alessia didn't want a reminder of what happened tonight, even though it represented the degree you'd go for her. You nearly beat a man to death for her, guilt tormented Alessia.

The last thing she wanted was for you to run into problems because of her, Alessia roused from her mind upon hearing the water ceasing. Alessia walked into the bathroom, leaning against the doorway.

You sat in the tub, steam rising from the water. You held out your hand, silently offering her to join.

Alessia didn't think twice before she began stripping from her undergarments. She hissed at the heat, lowering herself deeper into the water until it reached her collarbones. Alessia rested back into you, your arms wrapped around her nude waist, burying your face in her neck.

You two sat in silence, embraced by the steam and contents of the hot water. There were no words to explain tonight, Alessia wasn't going to scold you and you weren't going to apologize. You both knew that tonight was needed for both your sanity.

When you passed Alessia over to Beth, the separation that you placed between you and her signified that you were going to do something she wouldn't like. Your attempts to get her out were for her sake, not yours. You weren't keen on her seeing the monster you become.

"I love you, you know that?"

Alessia rested her head back as you peppered kisses on her skin, her eyes fluttered open staring right in yours. Eyes that held love, more than she's ever seen in her life. "I know."

Alessia didn't need to say those three magic words back, you knew, you always knew. What you need to know is that if she knew. If she knew that you loved her more than the world could imagine. 

[yoongiseesawmp3]

u got it bad - san (m)

summary: baseball player!san x reporter!reader. you've been covering your local team for years. the players, the coaches, everybody knows you. except for newbie choi san. he just joined the team, but he knows you from somewhere...maybe the bar last night?

word count: 14.5k

warnings: lots of baseball jargon, afab reader, sex (some protected some not), thigh riding, oral (barely. m receiving tho), a little cockwarming

masterlist

you love your job. as a kid, you always dreamed of working here, walking into this stadium every day, and doing what you loved most. granted, back then you were imagining yourself as one of the players, but oh well. a girl can still dream, right?

you landed the job as sideline reporter for your favorite baseball team right out of college. they wanted someone willing to stick around for a while, and you recall telling them in your interview, "if i start working here, you'll never be able to get rid of me." they loved it, and they loved that you were a hometown supporter. it made your stories more meaningful, gave you a point of view that fans could appreciate. you were able to write touching pieces on the players, give the season the dramatic arc on camera that it deserved, and you treated everyone at the team with respect. that respect went both ways, with the players, coaches, front office staff...everyone knew who you were and included you as if you were a part of the team.

you had to work hard for that respect. it didn't take long for you to prove yourself, but it did take several sleepless nights and countless overtime hours to become the reporter you are. you know everything about this team, and that's what makes you so good.

because you know eveything, you obviously know that they're close to signing star right fielder choi san. you've heard talk that it's basically done, he flew in this morning and is set to sign his contract first thing tomorrow. of course, you had memorized his past work jumping around the league as soon as the rumors started. it was your job, after all, to know these things. you knew he was great on the field, that was easy, but everyone loved him in the dugout. he's the kind of player that remembers everyone's names, brings gifts for the team around the holidays, asks about your family when he sees you. he's a stand up guy, you hear.

you've also heard that he likes to play the field outside of the stadium, if you catch my drift. he's very popular with the ladies in whatever city he deems to call home for that season, and as you walk through your favorite bar outside the stadium, you can tell the women here already know choi san is close by.

one thing you do not know is that san is in this bar, right now. yes, he's signing his contract tomorrow, but he wanted to visit the stadium today, when it was still quiet. he likes getting the feel of a team before he joins, so he wandered around the empty stadium a few times before coming here to clear his head. upon entering, he sees his face plastered on all the tvs as espn does a deep dive into what his move here might mean. he thought he was screwed, that people would immediately notice him, but so far so good. he's got a nondescript cap on and dark sweats, so he hopes his booth in the corner is enough to keep him hidden while he has a celebratory pint. he doesn't report to training until day after tomorrow, so he thought he could treat himself tonight.

as he sits and drinks, soaking in the atmosphere, he has to laugh. he wants to stay hidden, but really, with his likeness and his entire career plastered on every screen above the bar, you'd think someone would know. at least look at him and make a comment about the resemblance. but it doesn't seem like anyone here knows a thing.

except you. as you sit at the bar, swirling the straw in your glass, you take a look around. there's some regulars that smile and wave, but for the most part it's not that busy. maybe that's what makes him stand out more. your eyes fall on choi san, all star right fielder and the newest member of your team, trying to hide in the corner. but his sharp eyes and broad shoulders alert you immediately that the subject of all your recent studies is here. and he's staring at you. you stare back, and he quirks an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

you take the bait and make your way to his table.

"anyone sittin' here?" you ask in a slight southern accent, and san smiles. it's been a while since he played in the south. he forgot how charming it can be. maybe he'll catch himself a southern belle while he's here.

"saved it for you," he smirks, and you hum as you sit across from him. he sees your almost empty glass and states, "looks like you need another."

"ah, i probably shouldn't," you shake your head. "got an early morning."

"me too," san nods, that smirk still comfortably on his face. "so what's your name, beautiful?"

"y/n," you reply. you try not to let your heart flutter at the nickname, or the way he's staring at you, but it's hard. "yours?"

"san," he says simply. "you from here, y/n?"

"born and raised," you answer. "you new to the city?"

"you could say that," he sighs. "just moved here for work, but i've visited a couple times."

"how are you likin' it so far?"

"to be honest?" he makes a face. "it's kind of boring."

"excuse me?" you're taken aback. you don't take kindly to people badmouthing your hometown, and you don't like the mischievous spark in san's eyes as he continues.

"well, girl as pretty as you not taking me up on my offer of another round, that's no fun is it?" he teases.

"ahah," you laugh halfheartedly. "sure, i can see why that would upset you."

"i'm not upset, doll, just disappointed."

"well, hate to disappoint you further, but i really do have an early morning," you say as you start to rise. "just saw a stranger sittin' all by his lonesome and thought i would say hi."

"i'm glad you did," san raises his glass to you. "maybe i'll see you around?"

"maybe," you shrug, trying to bite back a smile. "nice meeting you san."

you feel his eyes on you as you return your glass to the bar, waving goodbye to the bartender before you head to the door. you turn before you leave, meeting san's eyes across the room, and you just smile to yourself as you step outside.

-

san is the first one in the clubhouse the next day. he loves the smell of an empty locker room, untainted by the man stench that inevitably comes with a roomful of athletes. he smiles warmly as he walks in and sees his locker decorated in welcome. he's looking through all the gifts, some regulation equipment he asked for and some just goodies from the team, as the players start slowly arriving.

the first to arrive is jongho. he's the catcher, and san finds it easy to talk to him. he seems quiet, but most catchers are the stoic type, so maybe jongho will open up to him in time. the next guy in has the opposite issue. wooyoung, the shortstop, immediately claps san into a hug, babbling a mile a minute about how great it's gonna be to have him on the team.

san gets stuck talking to wooyoung for a while, which he doesn't mind. they get along quickly, but as they talk the rest of the team trickles in. hongjoong, the second baseman, waves to san from across the room. seonghwa, the left fielder, carefully places his things into the locker next to san's, then gives san a wordless handshake and a warm smile. yunho, the first baseman, is spread out at the locker to san's right. mingi, the third baseman, is next to him. wooyoung finally leaves for his locker next to hongjoong, and next to him is yeosang, the center fielder. pitchers must not report today, because san scans the room and counts eight.

he checks the time and notices he's almost late for his press conference, so he gets to work getting dressed before someone appears at his side to escort him down the hall. she works in media relations and gives him the run down of the conference, explaining that the coach will do a quick intro before san comes up to say a few words. they'll shake hands, he'll sign his contract, and then take a few questions before reporting to more press stuff. nothing he hasn't done before, but san still brushes his sweaty hands on his pants to calm his nerves as they enter.

san hears the chatter of the press die down as their eyes fall on him. it's a big room, lots of reporters and cameras, and he smiles and waves as he gets ushered to the side of the makeshift stage in the front. the coach steps up then, welcoming everyone and giving a bit of insight on why they wanted to sign san. this team desperately needed a right fielder, so in all the negotiations it was basically just their operations team begging san to come play for them. the coach paints it a different way, and san does his best to grab onto a few phrases so he can sprinkle them into his own speech. the coach calls him up and san takes a seat next to him, falling smoothly into his regular "happy to be here, excited at the opportunity" spiel. he scans the room and recognizes a few faces, so he gets more comfortable as he goes on.

"i think at the end of the day, i'm looking for a team that i can be with for a long time," san starts to conclude. "and so far, i'm really liking it here. maybe this will be that team."

he goes through the motions of signing, shaking hands, posing for pictures, and then settles back into his seat for the question portion. at his other teams, he's been allowed to pick the press he talks to, so he scans the room for familiar faces, but media relations steps in and starts calling names. the first one takes him by surprise, and a smile grows on his face as he sees who steps up.

"y/f/n, local news," you smile back at san as the recognition crosses his features. "you said you're liking the city so far? can i ask what makes you think this team, this franchise, will be the one to make you stay?"

"you were at the bar last night," he responds, and you feel yourself blush. a chuckle ripples through the crowd of reporters as san goes on. "sorry, just. this is a surprise, is all."

"i agree," you quip back. "because yesterday you told me you didn't like this city. so i'm just wondering what made you change your mind."

"honestly? the people," he answers sincerely, holding your gaze. "it's hard to explain, but things feel...different here. i've never been with a team where the players are so welcoming, the staff is so kind, and the reporters are hanging out at local bars after hours." another laugh. "so i think this franchise might have more of the culture i've been missing from those other teams i've played for. that answer your question, y/n?"

"yep," you give him a satisfied nod. "happy to have you here, san."

"happy to be here," he smiles, and you swear the lights from all the cameras make his teeth sparkle. he keeps staring at you as media relations calls for the next question, and only when his attention is no longer on you do you realize that your heart is beating too fast.

-

today's only a press day for the boys, there's no actual training that needs to happen, but that doesn't mean the clubhouse is calm. no, actually, there's more people here than there will be for the rest of the season, what with all the camera crews and a few stylists running around. oh, and the fact that everyone who works here wants to get a peek at choi san. he left the press conference and saw a group down the hall, staring and whispering. san wasn't sure which way to go to find the locker room, so he approaches the group with a smile. turns out it's front office staff, part timers, anyone who works here that needed to see san with their own eyes to believe he's really playing here. he's charming as ever, learning everyone's names, signing things, taking pictures. he even stands by happily as an older woman calls her grandsons, and they laugh together as the little boys squeal in excitement.

san stays until everyone has what they wanted, which must have taken a while, because he sees the press trickling out toward the exit. he keeps his eyes peeled for one person in particular, and when you pass through the doors and turn san's way, he smiles. you stop, eyes focused on the notebook you're furiously scribbling in, so you don't see him. that won't do, san thinks, so walks over and stops in front of you with a sigh.

"what do you want san," you ask it as a statement, eyes not moving from your notes.

"how'd you know it was me?"

"i know everything," you look up then, meeting his smile with one of your own. "and you've got cleats on, so i knew it wasn't anybody from your fan club coming to ask for my notes."

"my fan club?" he laughs, but you can tell it boosts his ego. "i think they're just fans of the team."

"are you always like this?" you ask thoughtfully, and san says he doesn't know what you're talking about. "you're not cocky, but you're humble, and you're cocky about being humble. does that make sense?" you stop to scribble that down, and san tries again to see what else you've written. you catch him this time, tugging the notes just out of his line of sight. "don't you have pictures to take?"

"how'd you-"

"i told you, i know everything," you joke again, taking a moment to stuff your pen back in your bag. that leaves your notebook unattended, and san snatches it, running a few steps down the hall with evil glee. you stomp after him and fail in grabbing it from his eager hands.

"hey, this is good," san reads, his eyes scanning the paper. "you write all your stuff by hand?"

"depends," you shrug. "i started getting bored at the end of that talk and i needed to organize my thoughts."

"oh i can tell you were bored," san smirks, his eyes flicking to you. "i like the doodle of me."

"that doodle could be of anybody," you say as you finally snatch your notebook back. you put it securely in your bag as san continues to look smug.

"i think it was a doodle of me," he says as he starts walking away. "if you ever want me to sit for another portrait, you know where to find me, doll."

"where ya goin'?" you ask him, and he stops. he looks down the hall in front of him back towards you with his thumb pointing behind him.

"to the locker room?"

"that's this way dummy," you point, and you're pleased to see his ears turn red as he corrects his steps. you're heading to the exit, so you walk in the same direction briefly. san slows his steps to keep up with you, and he's so close that his hand keeps brushing yours.

"looks like this is where i leave ya, doll," he sighs, and you wave as you keep walking. "i'll see you soon?"

"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you turn around with a smirk, watching san as you push through the doors to the parking lot. "bye san."

-

san loves the first practice of the season. he loves the feeling of walking onto a brand new field, seeing the empty stadium ahead. at his his other teams, he's had to make this walk alone, his former teammates usually more reserved or too good to talk to him. not here, though. as he takes the field, he finds himself engrossed in a deep argument with jongho and wooyoung about the best world series team of all time, and san feels giddy. he feels like he did when he was a kid, playing ball with his friends, and it's only the first day of practice! imagine what an entire season here would be like. every day, san is thankful he made this move.

another reason for san to be happy he's here is, well, you. working with the press at other teams wasn't exactly a thrill, but rather a part of the job he had to get through. here he's eager to give a statement, always willing to join a press conference, just to have the chance of messing with you.

as he makes the long walk to the outfield for warm ups, san sees someone by the visitor's dugout who's not in uniform. he squints a little in the early morning sun and sees that it's a woman, but assumes it's someone from the front office. he keeps walking, but a laugh echoes out and san turns back to this mystery woman.

"y/n?" he shouts, holding his glove over his eyes to see if that'll block out the sun. sure enough, you turn from your talk with the managers to send him a wave, and that giddy feeling san had walking onto the field is back. "what are you doing here?"

"my job!" you shout back, and with that you go back to work. one of the coaches jogs by san then, tossing a baseball in his direction.

"stop shoutin', son," he says. "go throw that in left field. seonghwa will take you through the warm ups, then we'll come together for drills."

"yes sir," san nods, jogging over to his teammate. he steals one last glance at you, and he swears the sunlight makes you glow.

-

san is exhausted after practice. he knew playing for this team would challenge him, but damn. he's sore and it's only the first day! he's still catching his breath as the team mills about around him, and yunho smirks as he alerts the boys to san's condition.

"i think we wore the superstar out," yunho laughs, and san throws one of his sweaty towels at him. yunho screams and tosses it back, but mingi jumps in to grab it. "what the hell are you doing?"

"this is a sweaty towel used by the choi san," mingi says with importance. "do you know how much i could sell this for?"

"guys, come on," san laughs, snatching the towel back. "i'm not a superstar."

"says the superstar," wooyoung mumbles, and san contemplates throwing the towel again but decides not to, mingi is still close by.

"no, we get it," hongjoong assures him. "just because the press is saying that doesn't mean it's true. you're a part of the team, so you're a team player, right san?"

"yes, exactly-"

"please, i hope everybody is decent!" a familiar voice shouts from the doorway, and san smiles when he finds you standing there. you've got your notebook over your eyes to hide any naked players, but a quick sweep tells san that everyone is dressed for the most part.

"wait, wait!" jongho shouts as he fights to put a clean shirt on. some of the boys chuckle at him while san says, "dude, she's probably seen a guy shirtless before."

"but she's a lady, san," jongho insists. "it's not polite. and i don't like to have my nips out when i'm giving quotes."

"that's why he's my favorite," you say, finally risking a peek. "all good?"

to be honest, san is a little shocked you're here. it's kind of odd for a reporter to be in the locker room after a regular practice, but he trusts this team and how they run things. most importantly, he trusts you. but his shock holds true as you greet the team while making your way straight toward him.

"aw, she's just here for superstar," mingi pouts, and you make him hush.

"i have to publish my story on him today and need to check quotes," you explain. "i'm coming for you next, mingi."

as mingi celebrates, you surprise san further by walking right up to him and taking the seat by his locker. you're flipping through your notebook as he watches you, and after a few seconds you look at him then pat the bench next to you.

"come on, get cozy," you tell him. "you spoke too fast yesterday and i didn't catch all of your answers."

"because you were too busy doodling?" san teases, taking a seat exceptionally close to you.

"that was after you," you explain, but san sees your ears turn red. "can you look through this and tell me if anything rings a bell?"

"y/n, you may be good at your job, but you have shit handwriting," san says after staring at the page long enough for your chicken scratch to make his head hurt. some of the boys near him laugh, and yunho pops his head in to take a look.

"oh yeah that's illegible," yunho confirms. "cute drawing of san, though."

"go away yunho."

"yes ma'am."

you're able to piece together what san said in the press conference, so once you're satisfied you take a moment to type up the changes into your phone. you send the story off to your editor, but then start working through who else you need to talk to today. san is watching all of this, and when your eyebrows furrow in concentration, he leans in.

"i know what you're thinking," he whispers, and you have to shake from your concentration to look him in his sneaky eyes.

"what?"

"i said i know what you're thinking," he repeats with a shrug. when you don't respond, he keeps going. "i bet you're wondering, hm, is san free tonight? well, i am."

"i can't use that for my story," you tell him, and he bumps his shoulder into yours.

"this is when you say if you're free."

"is it?" you ask, gathering your things so you can move on to the next player. "i'm not quite sure about that yet."

"whatever, doll," san smiles. "you know where to find me."

-

you did know where to find him. you knew he would be at the bar tonight. you knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and you knew you shouldn't go looking for him but you couldn't help yourself. after all, you've got to take yourself out for a drink - you filed your first story of the season today. you deserve to celebrate!

as soon as you walk in you can tell it's a mad house. the bar is packed, and it reminds you of how busy it gets after a game. you wonder if it's just preseason excitement that has so many people here, but you don't wonder long. you're here for a drink, so you squeeze between two guys at the bar and wave the bartender down. everyone here knows you, so you get to cut the line.

"hey y/n," he smiles as he walks up. "want your regular?"

"yeah, but top shelf tonight," you tell him. "finished my first story of the season today."

"is it any good? maybe i'll read this one," the bartender jokes as he gets to work.

"i didn't know you could read," you tease, and you smile when he tosses his head back in a laugh. the sound draws someone's attention, but you're too busy flirting with the bartender to notice.

"and to think i was gonna pay your tab myself," he shakes his head.

"put whatever she gets on mine," someone says at your side, and you physically jump when you recognize who it is.

"san?"

"told you to come find me, doll, why are you surprised i'm here?" he smirks. you can tell he's wearing league issued workout clothes, but to the regulars in the bar he's just some dude in sweats. he's got a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, and if he didn't have such striking features you'd say he was blending in pretty well. "i thought we were getting a drink together."

"are we?" you ask. "because i don't recall you actually asking me." san dips his head, knowing that you caught him in a lie.

"can i get whatever she's drinking?" san asks the bartender as he finally places your drink down, and your mouth hangs open in surprise.

"what's this sparkly shit for?" you ask, flicking at the gold pompom on the toothpick poking out of your cup. there's also swirls of gold in your drink, and the bartender shrugs.

"you said you were celebratin'," he explains. "wanted to make sure the drink rose to the occasion."

"well thank you," you say as you lift the drink to your lips, mostly to hide your blush. san is watching this interaction next to you, doing a horrible job of hiding his disgust.

"here's your drink man," the bartender says, plopping a cup down in front of san. "her's was on the house. i added yours to your tab."

"how generous," san smiles, tipping his cup toward the bartender as he walks away. san turns to you slowly, and says, "he's nice."

"you shouldn't be here."

"why, am i interrupting your date?" san quips.

"no," you roll your eyes. "you shouldn't be seen here. lots of fans, you'll probably get stopped for pictures, autographs, kissing babies..."

"they don't let babies into bars, y/n," san smirks at you. "but thanks for looking out for me."

"isn't against team rules for you to go out during the preseason anyway?" you ask, knowing full well it is.

"i don't like following rules," san shrugs.

"oh so that's why you've played for six different teams in five years?" it's your turn to quip, and san whistles.

"you got me there, ace," he sighs. "so what's this about you celebrating tonight?"

"that's nothing," you try to brush it off. "i sent in that story about you, remember? well, it got approved, so i have a tradition of taking myself out for a drink here when my first story of the season is filed."

"taking yourself out?" san shakes his head. "no, no no no. that won't do. i'm getting you another drink, unless your boyfriend tries to pay for it again, and then we're going out."

"you have to report to practice at 7am," you remind him, and he groans, dropping his head on your shoulder.

"you knowing everything about the team is totally ruining my game."

"aw, you did a fine job of that yourself," you coo, patting his cheek. you cup his chin and pull him back up, and you hide a smile when you notice the blush on his cheeks. "maybe you can owe me? take me out for real?"

"i'd like that," san nods.

"i knew you would," you tease, and san reaches an arm out to pull you into his side. he over calculates and accidentally smacks the guy behind you, who turns around in a drunken haze ready to fight.

"what the-" he starts, anger in his swimming eyes. when they land on san, you both see recognition take over his features in slow motion. "holy shit y'all! it's choi san!"

"come on," you grab san's arm, tugging him in the opposite direction. you think there's an entrance out the back, so hopefully the two of you can squeeze through the masses before too many people catch on. as you drag san behind you, you hear the bar goers talking about the star in their midst. some drunk lady grabs sans arm and won't let go, and he won't shake her off like you tell him to. you get caught, the exit you were hoping for just in the distance. people start crowding around san, trying to wedge between you, but he won't let go of your hand. he finishes signing a bar napkin for a guy who definitely used a fake to get in here, and then you're pulling san along again. the crowd is starting to push, and they're all drunk. and rowdy. and loud.

"aw, look, he's already got himself a bitch!" someone shouts, watching you cling onto san as you push him toward the exit. he stops cold, looking around for the drunken idiot. he reinforces his idiocy by stepping forward, slurring his words as he says, "didn't take you long, son-" *hiccup* "always got sluts lookin' for ya-" *hiccup* "she's a pretty one too-"

before you register what he's doing, san shakes you off of his arm. he steps closer to the man, and you feel yourself calling his name, but in the chaos even you can't hear yourself. san pulls his arm back and clocks the man in the face, splattering blood from his now probably broken nose.

"SAN!" you shout, yanking him back toward you. "let's GO."

adrenaline and shock give you the strength to drag a stunned san out of the bar, but it's so packed there were people in the alley already. they weren't aware of what went on inside, so you're able to tug san around the corner. you rush him toward the parking deck, and thank your lucky stars you moved your car from the employee lot earlier. you shove san into your passenger seat, slamming the door shut so you can rush to the driver's side. as you start the car, you look to the side and see san sinking further into the seat.

"i fucked up," he whispers. you hear a quiver in his voice, but you don't press him. "fuck. i'm gonna get kicked off the team. am i gonna get arrested?"

"you won't get kicked off the team," you tell him softly. "and i'll call the bartender in a minute, explain it to him. just pray that asshole you punched doesn't press charges."

"y/n, i'm so sorry," san says, looking to you with a scared look in his eyes. "i just. i couldn't let him talk to you like that."

"thank you san," you say sincerely. "let me see your hand."

"no, it's fine," he insists, but when you touch it he flinches.

"fuck san, how are you gonna play tomorrow?"

"i'm so losing my job," he shakes his head, sitting up like he's going to leave.

"whoa, where are you going?"

"i have to go apologize," he says, trying to open the door but struggling to do it with his hurt hand. "shit, i have to pay for our drinks, and my car! i need to-"

"san," you say sternly, and he looks to you again with those sad eyes. "i'll fix it. ok? do you trust me?"

"yes," he nods vigorously.

"good," you nod back. "can you buckle your seatbelt or do i have to do that too?"

"where are we going?" san asks after securing his seatbelt. it's a good thing he did, because you whip your car out of its spot so fast his body slams against the strap. "seriously road runner, where are you taking me?"

"we need to fix your hand," you tell him. "i live close by, so i'll fix you up and then in an hour or two i'll bring you back for your car."

"thank you," san says. "you're saving my ass."

"just be really good this season, ok?" you ask him. "it'd be fun to watch my team win for once."

"anything for you, ace."

-

a few minutes later, you've got a sheepish all-star perched on the edge of your tub as you stand over him and wipe the blood from his hand. you already sent a text to the bartender, so that's cleared up. apparently, san was doing everyone a favor by punching that guy. no one likes him, so san's not in any trouble with the bar. chances are the guy won't press charges either, he tends to start shit around town so the cops wouldn't necessarily be on his side.

the main issue now is the team. there's pictures and videos floating around, and you were right, san wasn't supposed to be out tonight. he's got a missed call from hongjoong already, and you're helping san figure out what to say to the coaches now.

"just own up to it," you tell him. "they'll appreciate the honesty. and tell them you beat that guy up because he was being mean to me, that'll help your case too."

"no," san shakes your head. "i'm not bringing you into this. i don't want to hurt your reputation."

"do it," you shrug. "i was there. i was part of it. if you don't tell them now, i will tomorrow when i do their preseason interviews."

"are you sure?"

"yep," you reply. "it'll help take some of the heat off of you. sources tell me not everyone is sold on you yet, but if they know you were defending my honor it'll get you some respect in the clubhouse."

"do you have blackmail on all these guys?" san jokes as he tries to focus on typing a text with one hand. you're done wiping the blood from his knuckles, and you've found a small cut on his hand that you need to cover. you step away for a second to bend down in front of your sink, searching through the cabinet below. san tries to hide that he's staring, but he does a poor job. he watches still as you stand up and tear open a bandaid, but he scoffs when he sees what's on it. "you are not making me wear a hello kitty bandaid."

"so you want to get infected?" you ask as you put the bandaid on him anyway. you trace your thumb over it softly, making sure it's laying flat, but you realize how tender this moment is. you're holding san's bruised hand in yours, standing so close to him that your legs are between his spread ones. you take a step back, but san uses his free hand to grab you by the waist.

"where you going, doll?" he whispers, looking up at you softly.

"you need an ice pack," you whisper back.

"you're not gonna kiss it to make it better?" he pouts, and you laugh to hide the way your heart skipped a beat.

"that doesn't work you know," you say as you bring his hand to your lips regardless. you place a delicate kiss to his soft skin, holding eye contact with him to watch his reaction.

"you're right, that didn't work," he sighs, and you start to let go. "maybe this will?" he asks, bringing you closer before cupping your face and pulling you down to his lips. he kisses you once, separating from you with a satisfied look on his face. "there. i'm all good now."

"nice," you squeak. "was this all an elaborate ploy to make me kiss you? because you could've just asked."

"really?" san asks gleefully. "will you kiss me?"

"just did."

"again," he pouts, and you lean down to kiss him quickly. he uses both his hands to hold you in place, his lips caressing yours as he lets out a quiet hum. he pulls back just to lean his forehead against yours and says, "yeah, that's got healing power baby."

"you still need ice," you tell him, stepping back before he can grab onto you again. "come on. maybe we can kiss some more in my kitchen?"

-

san ends up sleeping on your couch. he wouldn't let you leave after fixing up his hand, insisting that you've done enough for him tonight. he'll deal with his car in the morning. you tried giving him the bed, but it barely worked. he wouldn't even let you finish your sentence before he started covering his ears and shaking his head. you gave him an innocent kiss goodnight after setting him up with more pillows and blankets than one guy needs, and you both went to sleep.

except, he wasn't there when you got up. you set your alarm earlier than you planned, but even then you walk into your living room to find all the pillows stacked and blankets neatly folded. the only sign that san was here. well, that and the breakfast he ordered that waits for you on your kitchen table.

san had to be the first one at practice, so he couldn't wait for you to wake up. he also couldn't burden you more than he already has, so he woke before dawn and got to work. his hand feels fine, not great, but he thinks he can get through practice. he's rehearsed what he's going to say to the coaches, the team, the press, and he hopes it's enough.

-

most of your work for the day will take place in a smaller media room that's been set up for your one-on-one interviews with the coaching staff. that means you have no reason to linger outside the locker room, hoping to see san and check that he's ok. you distract yourself by going over the notes for the first interview, and before you know it, there's a knock at the door. it's the pitching coach, one of your favorite people on the team. he pokes his head in and smiles, so you welcome him as you dive into the same spiel you always do for these interviews. you're a pro, and the guys know what they're doing too, so it should be easy going. but as soon as you sit down to start, the coach stares at you with a look that's up to no good.

"so you were out with san last night," he states.

"i wasn't out with him," you explain. "we happened to be at the same bar."

"i heard he wrecked his hand defending you," the coach continues.

"he wrecked it?" you ask, more concern in your voice than you probably needed. "will he be able to play?"

"he'll play just fine," he nods. "don't you worry. we all heard what happened. shoot, some of the coaches and me were sending the videos back and forth last night. i tell you what, the boy's an idiot, but we've let men get by with worse. like i said, don't you worry."

"good," you breathe in relief. "then should we get started?"

-

it was a long day, after an incredibly long night, so when it's time for you to leave you're exhausted. you've been all over the place today, trying to keep up with your schedule, tracking people down for interviews, and you misplaced your notebook at least four times. you can't wait to get home, shower, and immediately go to sleep, but as you approach your car you realize you've lost your keys.

"shit," you hiss, dumping most of your bag out onto the hood of your car. you're mining through all your junk, wondering if it's too late to head back inside.

"hey," san says from behind you, and you jump.

"jesus!" you whip around to stare at him. "you scared me!"

"sorry ace," he smiles sheepishly. "thought you heard me coming."

"obviously not!" you screech, your heart still racing. "what's up?"

"looking for these?" he asks, dangling your keychain in front of you.

"oh my god you're a life saver," you sigh in relief, taking the keys from him gratefully. "how did you know these were mine?"

"i recognized them from last night," he shrugs. "and from the mascot keychain. i remember someone saying they had a childhood obsession with phil the bucket?"

"stop paying so much attention to me, could you?" you ask as you start shoveling your things back into your purse.

"here, let me help," san says as he joins you. he holds your purse open as you slide its contents back inside. "i owe you from last night, so consider this my starting point."

"the starting point?" you smile at him, and he nods.

"yep," he says nonchalantly. "first i found your keys, now the bag thing, and next, i don't know, maybe i take you to dinner?"

"hm, tonight?" you ask, and he nods again. "i have plans."

"then cancel them," san replies. you can tell he's joking by the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but you know he really wants you to say yes.

"where would we go?"

"somewhere nice so i can spoil you," san says simply, closing your purse and walking to the driver's side of your car. "can i pick you up in thirty?"

"thirty minutes isn't enough time to get ready for a date, san," you frown.

"yeah, but any longer and i'll miss you too much," he pouts. you cup his chin and bring that pout to your lips, kissing him softly before you pull away.

"did that buy me another thirty?"

"twenty," he replies. "maybe twenty five if you promise to wear something sexy."

"deal."

-

as promised, san is outside your building exactly fifty five minutes later. you worried that not having his number and vice versa would make it hard to coordinate, but you're surprised when you check your phone and find that he texted you.

"i'm outside, ace," his text reads. no 'this is san' or anything to identify himself. you know it's him, so you tell him you're coming out.

you worry briefly you won't know which car is his, but as soon as you step outside you let out a soft laugh. of course he's got the most expensive car here, and of course he's leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. he lets out a low whistle as you approach, and you could act coy, but the reporter in you has to ask, "how'd you get my number, san?"

"i'm not giving up my source," he smiles smugly, opening the door for you. "you look incredible."

"it's nice seeing you in something other than baseball clothes for once," you reply. you take his hand and let him help you into the car, watching intently as he crosses the front to reach the driver's side. you're turned to him when he sits, and ask, "seriously. was it hongjoong? one of the coaches? you know they'll be on your ass if they find out you took me on a date."

"i'm not telling," san smirks again. "you gonna buckle your seatbelt or you need me to do it for you?"

"why, you a bad driver or something?" you tease.

"says the woman who gave me whiplash last night."

"i was trying to make a quick getaway before you got stormed by adoring fans again," you remind him.

"always looking out for me," he shakes his head. "i think someone has a crush." you don't respond, instead looking out the window to hide your smile. "you not saying anything isn't helping your case."

"no comment?" you reply, feeling proud at the blush on san's cheeks when you turn back to him. "so where's the superstar taking me?"

"san, the very nice young man you agreed to go out with, is taking you to one of his favorite restaurants," he replies.

"you've lived here like a week, how do you already have a favorite restaurant?"

"there was a place in one of the cities i used to play in, i went there every week," he explains as he drives. you catch yourself staring, but he doesn't seem to mind, so you continue. "the nicest staff. best food. always packed. then one day, it's gone. the owner and his wife moved so they could be closer to their daughter while she was at school, and they ended up here. he gave me a call as soon as my trade was final." you guess a couple places it could be, but they're all wrong. "so ms. know it all doesn't actually know it all?"

"don't call me that," you groan. "there's plenty i don't know."

"enlighten me, ace."

"i can't do math to save my life," you admit, and that gets a laugh out of san. "i don't know how to fold a fitted sheet. and don't tell anyone, but that new stat all the baseball pundits are talking about? it makes no sense to me."

"oh, that's easy," san says, and he falls into a comfortable conversation about baseball. you always wanted this from the guys you date, but despite your work, most guys assume that you don't know anything about sports because you're a woman. you're grateful that you don't feel that way around san, and you start to relax a little bit. you're not on a date with superstar outfielder choi san, you remind yourself. just san. just a, what did he say, a very nice young man?

that niceness continues when he parks his car, rushing to your door to get it for you. he takes your hand to help you out and doesn't let go as you walk in, and you're genuinely shocked that you haven't heard of this place before. it's fabulous, beautiful inside and out, and as soon as you walk in you're hearing san's name called. but this time it's not a fanatic, just a kind looking man and his wife.

"sannie!" she exclaims, pulling him into a soft hug. "oh, it's so nice to see you again. we were so happy when we heard you were coming here. i think it'll be good for you."

"me too," san agrees. he turns to the man then, the owner, and they exchange a manly handshake and similar pleasantries before he turns to you. "this is y/n, by the way. star reporter, loved by all-"

"and way out of your league," the owner winks at you. you feel yourself blush as san agrees, and then he's escorting you to your table. as you walk through the restaurant you notice it's surprisingly empty. didn't san say their last place was always full?

the owner helps you with your seat as his wife explains the specials, but you don't see a menu anywhere. you look at san quizzically and he gives you a look that says he'll explain shortly. after some more kindness, the owner and his wife are gone, and you get a chance to really take this place in.

"if you're wondering where the menu is," san starts, "they won't give us one. they never let me order when i come here, they just decide for me. and it's the best food i've ever had, each time."

"can't wait," you smile at him. "is this place as popular as their last one, you think?"

"i know it is," san nods. "that's why i booked it just for us."

"what?"

"i told them i was bringing a date and they offered to stay open late for us," he shrugs. "i hope that's not weird?"

"no," you reply. "i'm sure they're used to it by now."

"used to what?"

"you bringing dates here," you answer. "i can't be the only lucky lady you've done this with."

"well consider yourself lucky, ace," he says. "you're different."

"like can't be seen in public with me different?" you tease. "san, i'm flattered."

"no ace," he laughs. "i wanted this to be special, but if you want a crowd i can call the team-"

"no," you cut him off, grabbing his hand that's laid out on the table. "i like this. it's nice."

"told you i was gonna spoil you, doll," san smiles. "get used to it."

"should i?" you challenge, but san just continues smiling as a waiter brings by your drinks. you feel your walls falling more and more as the night goes on, as you and san eat some of the best food you've ever had. he's fun to be around, you think. maybe you'll give him more of a chance than you were expecting.

"so. i have a question," san says after the plates from your meal are cleared. you're waiting for dessert, but you're not sure you can eat much more.

"shoot," you tell him. "i ask you plenty, so ask away."

"in the locker room, yesterday i think? you said jongho was your favorite," he finishes with a pout.

"that's not a question," you laugh. "you'd be a shitty reporter."

"compared to you, everyone is," san replies. "but i meant, why is he your favorite? were you serious or just joking?"

"if i had to pick a favorite," you start, "i think it would be jongho. i've always liked catchers, so that works in his favor. he's fun to watch, and a lot of fun to work with."

"you have a thing for catchers?" san teases. "why?"

"not a thing," you say, wishing you could kick him underneath the table. "but maybe? i don't know. catchers do have really nice thighs."

"and outfielders?" san tries.

"never stood out to me," you reply. "it's either catchers or third basemen." you start to explain how your favorite player of all time, the one who got you into baseball, played third base, and you don't worry about sounding too much like a fangirl. you admit to the jerseys, the baseball card collection, all of it, and when you finish you look up to find san watching you with an amused look on his face. "what? too much?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i'm just thinking how good you'd look in one of my jerseys."

"try playing third," you tease. "maybe i'll buy one."

dessert comes then, and your focus turns to the amazing food again. maybe it was just you, but you felt a sort of...tension when you were talking just now. you weren't planning on sleeping with san, really ever, but that look in his eyes when he thought about you in his jersey, maybe the date won't end here.

after another visit from the owner and his wife, and plenty of take out to last you a few days, you're walking back to san's car. there's a chill in the air, so you gravitate to him for warmth. his arm circles around your waist, pulling you to his side, and he squeezes your hip. you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you wonder again where the night might be going.

ever the gentleman, san helps you back into your seat and places your food carefully in the back. you're looking at him now in a new light, imagining how his hands would feel on your hips without a layer of clothes separating your skin from his. you're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't notice san has taken his seat, or that he said something to you. you ask him to repeat it, and he has a happy look on his face as he says, "thanks for going out with me, doll."

"thanks for asking," you reply. "i had a great time."

"good," he nods with finality, starting the car without another word. he doesn't even look at you again until he gets close to your building, and all those thoughts of what would happen next have left your mind. whatever vibe you caught from him in the restaurant was gone, he obviously wasn't planning on coming up to your apartment after this. your suspicions were confirmed when he pulls up to your door, turning to you with that same sappy look. "i had a great time tonight, y/n. thank you."

"yeah, sure," you mewl, gathering your things. "um, the food-"

"take all of it," san insists, twisting back to grab the bags. "this isn't exactly on my in-season diet, so i'm not sure how much i could sneak before the dietician clocks me for it."

"right, thanks," you nod, laden down with bags as you struggle to open your door. "well, thanks."

"you said that already ace."

"right," you repeat. "um, so, see you at work i guess?"

"looking forward to it," he smiles softly. "text me when you get in?"

"right," you say again, stepping out of his car without looking back.

-

the season starts shortly after your date with san, so you're too busy with work to think about it.

except that's a lie, you can't stop thinking about it. how could san be so flirty, act so into you, and then end the night without so much as a kiss goodbye? you don't want it to, but it's bothering you.

you don't have a reason to see him, at work or otherwise, until the first day of the season. you're set up in the dock next to the home dugout so you can get updates or a quick interview for the broadcast. you see san for the first time in days then, sitting there with your notebook and a headset, as he takes the field for warmups. it might be your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear san looks for you as he waits for seonghwa. as soon as his eyes find yours he turns around, jogging to the outfield after. you shake it off and get to work, checking your notes to make sure you've got the info right for the game. san will be the leadoff hitter, and you feel a pit of excitement in your stomach at the thought of watching him play. just from watching him in practice you know he's good, but he's electric when there's a real win on the line. still, you don't let your thoughts linger on him too long. you've got a job to do.

the game runs like clockwork, and the team easily knocks down three outs to switch sides. you don't look up when they walk to the dugout, afraid of catching san's eyes again. you don't look up until you hear the announcer call san's name, watching his back as he walks to the plate. through your headset, you can hear the commentators upstairs in the press box listing off his accomplishments at past teams, painting him in this otherworldly light. he's a superstar for a reason, his stats show that, and the way they're talking about him upstairs shows that everyone is captivated by him.

the pitcher, not intimidated by the silver slugger he's facing, sets up his first pitch. it's a curveball, somewhere in the 80 mph range, and it looks like it's gonna be a ball. but san is confident, his stance strong, his shoulders poised just so, and you watch in amazement as he rears back and completely shreds it. the ball is gone before anyone knows what's happening, and your eyes stay locked on san as he rounds the bases. when he approaches first, he looks directly at you, pointing in your direction as he turns at the bag. your heart is racing, you notice, and you shake off your surprise so you can describe the hit in your already cramped notes.

the rest of the game is exciting, but nothing matches san's leadoff homer. you could tell that lit the team up, an enthusiasm in every at bat, every play. your team wins, by a lot, and you go through the motions of finding players and coaches to interview for the post-game show as fans file out and the grounds crew comes in. the one person you're hoping to snag is nowhere to be seen, though.

by the time you're done with your work on the field, the post-game conference is already over. you're not sure if san gave a quote there and that's why you missed him on the field, but you don't care. the team won't mind, so you make your way to the locker room to find the man who's been running laps through your head all day.

san knows as soon as you enter the locker room that you're looking for him. he's showered and dressed in his outside clothes, his jersey neatly folded on the bench beside him as you approach.

"hey ace," he greets you. "some game huh?"

"it was good," you nod. "nice hit."

"glad you liked it," he replies cockily. "did it for you."

"can i quote you on that?" you ask, and san chuckles.

"come on doll, why the cold shoulder? i did what you asked, i helped your team win. figured that would get me on your good side."

"i just need a quote about that hit," you stand your ground. "i'm risking my innocence the longer i stay here, so if you could just say something arrogant on the record, i'll be on my way."

san can tell something is up, so he returns your formality with some of his own. you're in and out in less than five minutes, heading to the press room to collect your thoughts before you shoot your editor a text about your incoming story. as you stand there typing, you hear someone come up behind you so you start walking toward the exit.

"y/n, wait," san calls, and you want to walk faster. you want to leave and not look back, but he adds a quiet, "please." and you take a deep breath before you turn.

"what's up?" you ask. "i've got a deadline."

"you left this," san says simply, offering you the folded jersey from his locker. "i...whatever. it was my jersey from this game. i want you to have it."

"what?" you're shocked, aware of how much it costs for a player to give away a game worn jersey. it may not be much to san in the long run, but still. it softens your heart and you take it wordlessly, searching for something to say in thanks.

"well," san sighs. "see you tomorrow."

"san, wait!" you call before he can get too far. he looks back at you hopefully, and you jog to catch up with him. "why..." as you trail off, you look up to him and find an unreadable look on his face. "sorry for being a dick earlier, i just-"

"no worries," he shakes his head. "i get it, the season changes things, so-"

"did you take me out the other night to pay me back for helping you at the bar?" you ask what you've been wondering for a few days now. "because, i don't know. i thought we...or i, um, i felt...something. and when you dropped me off, it was like you changed."

"changed how?"

"before that, i thought you were into me," you try to say nonchalantly. "but after..."

"you think i'm not into you now?" he asks sadly, and you nod. "check your facts, ace. i think it's the opposite."

"well i wasn't sure-"

"you want me to prove it?" san asks, taking a step closer to you. "or you got a story you need to get back to?"

"i have time," you whisper, looking in his eyes. they're darker, more serious, a little hooded. that tension you felt the other night is back, and it takes your breath away briefly.

"come with me," san's tugging your hand, dragging you along behind him as he leads you outside. a quick scan of the parking lot tells him you're alone, so he rushes you to his car. again, he helps you in, rushing to toss his things in the back. you're sitting there, his jersey gripped in one hand and your notebook in the other. when he opens his door, you mumble something about your stuff, but he cuts you off. "you can get it tomorrow, ace. i'm taking you home now."

"but my keys-"

"i'm taking you to my place," he cuts you off again, looking to you as he starts the car. "there a problem?

"no," you reply meekly, and san is satisfied. he drives like a madman to his place, not far from the stadium. he parks in the deck below, bringing you with him to an elevator close by. he punches the button to his floor before he pounces, cupping your face to crash his lips into yours.

"can't believe you thought i didn't want you," he grumbles, dragging his hands to your neck, down your arms, to grip your waist. "ridiculous." he kisses you again, pulling you by the waist out of the elevator into his hallway. he only detaches from you to find his keys, hands steady as he undoes the lock. he pulls you inside and doesn't give you a chance to look around, capturing your lips in a kiss again. you finally drop your stupid notebook, embarrassed that you've been holding onto it this whole time. you start to let go of his jersey too, but he stops you. "what are you doing, ace? told you i've been thinking about you wearing my jersey."

"what-"

"put it on, baby," he coaxes you, his hands guiding yours. "let's get you out of this librarian dress and into something a little sexier."

"san, slow down," you say breathlessly, following him into his apartment. he collapses on the couch, watching you with that same fire in his eyes from earlier. "what now?"

"change," he replies. "put the jersey on."

"not fair," you pout. "i'm gonna be naked and i don't even get to see you shirtless?"

san tears his shirt off in record time, sitting back with a challenging look on his face.

"your turn, doll."

with shaky hands, you undo the zipper to your dress, letting it fall as san lets out a hiss of air. you slide your arms into the jersey, amazed that it still smells like his cologne after a game in the sun. you kind of flop your arms out after that, like a 'what now?' and san pats his thigh.

"sit," he commands.

"what?"

"you ask a lot of questions."

"it's my job," you quip back, and san lets his head fall back in a laugh.

"you said you had a thing for thighs, baby. figured you'd be jumping at the chance to ride mine."

spurred on by adrenaline and the growing pit of excitement in your stomach, you do as he says, straddling his thigh as you drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

"what now?" you whisper into his ear, nipping just beneath it to drive him insane. his hands return to your waist, and whispering into your ear, he says, "ride me, doll."

you grind against his thigh, sucking in a breath at the friction. you take it at your own pace, going slow so you don't overwhelm your senses. san's warm skin under your hands, his scent surrounding you, it's intoxicating. you let your hips move on their own accord, picking up speed as the pressure in your core builds. you let out a breathy moan when he bounces his leg, and his grip on your waist tightens.

"how's it feel, baby?" he asks, watching you intently.

"good, san, feels good."

"then go faster," he smirks. "might feel even better." you do, gasping as a hand leaves your waist to trace over your bra. his hand dips beneath the fabric, pulling a breast free before moving to the next cup to do the same. both of his hands find your chest, tweaking your nipples as he watches you unravel above him. "how's it feel now?"

"i'm close," you whine, hips jerking as your core gets too sensitive. you try to stand, to move things along, but san grabs onto your ass and guides you against his thigh.

"if you're close then why are you running away?" he chuckles. "show me how good it feels, ace."

"fuck," you whisper, grinding against him harder. "i'm almost there, but i-i can't, san, need more. need your fingers."

"you do?" he pouts. "i don't think you've earned it."

"i have," you whine, squeezing his thigh between yours. "fuck. if you don't do it i will."

"show me," he challenges, and you stand before he can stop you. you take your panties off, tossing them somewhere before sitting back down on his thigh. you cry out at the new contact, your arousal ruining his pants. you look down and see just how much you're dripping onto his leg, moaning as san guides you faster. you pop two fingers into your mouth and then reach down to rub your clit, crying out as you come.

"fuck, san," you moan, hips sputtering over him as you chase your high. "jesus." you let your head fall to his shoulder, your hand stilling at your core as you catch your breath.

"so dirty, baby," he whispers, brushing your hair away from your neck to trail kisses across your skin. his jersey has fallen from your shoulder, so he takes his time leaving a mark on the exposed skin as you come down. "you look real good in my jersey, making yourself feel good like that."

"what now?" you ask again, nipping at his ear.

"you ready so soon?" he asks. "so eager."

"i'm afraid you're gonna come in your pants," you whisper in his ear. "don't wanna ruin the fun before it even starts."

you shriek then, feeling san lift you like it's nothing. he kicks his bedroom door open before dropping you on the bed, taking a minute to admire you splayed out on his sheets as he undoes his pants. you're still breathless, watching him undress, and you feel your breath catch when he pulls his cock free.

"what, don't think you can handle it?" san asks, tearing a condom packet open with his teeth. "gotta say, i'd be disappointed."

"try me."

san crawls over you next, trapping your hands in his as he drags them above your head. he holds them in place as he guides his cock to your core, slapping it against your clit teasingly. you moan, hips bucking to chase the feeling. he keeps teasing you though, coating his cock in your arousal.

"so wet for me, baby," he groans. "are you like this when i play?"

"no," you grit your teeth. "san, please-"

"please what, baby?" he asks, stopping completely. his tip is pressed to your entrance, but he's not moving, and you squirm beneath him. "use your words, pretty girl. you get this wet when you see me?"

"when i think about fucking you, yeah," you respond honestly.

"and how often is that? just ballpark."

"sometimes."

"every day?" he asks, pressing his tip past your walls. he won't give you more than that, so you whimper, and he smirks. "tell me."

"since we kissed," you admit, wishing you could hide your blushing cheeks.

"aw, baby's been desperate that long?" he tsks. "i'm sorry, doll. didn't know you wanted me that bad."

"just fuck me, san."

"ask me."

"huh?"

"ask me how often i think about fucking you," he replies with a shit eating grin.

"how often?"

he thrusts into you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest. he leans down and kisses you, biting your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. then he whispers, thrusting with each word, "every single day."

he keeps thrusting into you, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. you moan into his mouth, whining his name, and you twist away long enough to ask, "let go of my hands. wanna touch you."

he lets you go, and your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he groans, egging you on, and you drag your nails down his back as you say, "your shoulders."

"what?"

"your shoulders. they drive me insane," you admit. "catchers have nice thighs, sure, but, fuck, you're built like a god."

"a god?" he smiles, and you can tell you're gonna regret saying that. "what else drives you insane?"

"hm, everything about you?" you reply. "you're infuriating."

"and you're close already," he smirks. "i can feel you clenching around me, baby. this feels good too?"

"so good," you nod. "can i come?"

"wait," he hisses, pulling out as you whine. "patience, baby. wanna try something else."

you let san move you how he wants, sitting up further on his bed as he props your legs open. he slides his hands beneath your legs, almost folding you in half as he cups your head. he moves you so you can see your dripping pussy, shining in the low light of his room.

"help me out, ace," he says, and with shaky hands you guide him back to your entrance. he thrusts, both of you watching as he enters you, and you moan in sync as he thrusts all the way in. he stills for a moment, loving the way you clench around him, and he speeds up, fucking you so fast you can't catch your breath. "shit. look at you, taking me so well."

"can i come now?" you whine, but he shakes his head again. "san!"

"wait for me, baby," he insists, thrusting faster. you can barely take it, but then his hips jerk, and you know he's close. "now, come on my cock, fuck-"

"san, oh my god," you cry out, bucking forward until your forehead is pressed against his, watching as you come around him. you feel him come with you, and you stay trapped in his hold as he slows down. he kisses you softly before he lets go, his hands carding through your hair as he helps you lay down.

"be right back," he whispers, kissing your forehead before he disappears. he comes back with water and a wet washcloth, handing you the cool glass as he cleans you up. you hand it back to him when he's done so he can take a sip, and then he leaves again to toss the condom. he collapses back into bed when he returns, immediately pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles his head into your neck. "can't believe you'd think i didn't want you, doll."

"this might be the first time anyone's proved me wrong," you tease, yelping when you feel him bite your skin. "mean!" he moves to lay his chin on your chest, looking up at you with warmth in his eyes. you brush some of his sweaty hair from his forehead as he speaks.

"do you wanna stay the night?" he asks. "please say yes. but if you don't want to, give me a minute and i can drive you home. but i really want you to stay."

"i'll stay," you nod, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "you're really handsome, you know?"

"am i?" he smiles. "tell me more."

"that's all you get," you say as you flick his nose, and he scoots up the bed to lay his head next to yours. you're both quiet for a minute, thoughts flooding your head. you don't realize you're frowning until san whines.

"what's that face for?" he pouts, propping himself up on his arm as he stares down at you. "you want to go home."

"no, i'm just thinking," you pout back.

"about?"

"what will the team say if they see our walk of shame?"

"about time," he replies, kissing you before he lays back down. "i talk about you all the time, so i'm sure they'll be thrilled to know i finally got some."

"you're sick," you giggle, pinching him. "but maybe you should go in first. just to be safe."

"whatever you want ace," he hums, looking at you again. "you gonna sleep in my jersey, or can i give you another shirt to wear?"

-

despite your exhaustion from your night with san, you still had a story to write. it wasn't yet midnight, so after san gave you a shirt to sleep in you stayed up, furiously typing on your phone to get the story done in time. you thought san had fallen asleep beside you, his quiet breathing providing a sort of metronome to keep you focused. but as you got to a certain point in your story, you realized you need your notebook. you can't remember where it might be, so you try to quietly slip out of bed and go looking.

"come back to bed," san grumbles, making you jump.

"i thought you were asleep," you whisper, looking at him from the doorway. the sheets have pooled around his waist, and his chest is flushed. you wish you could just lay down with him, rest your head on his warm chest, and fall into the deepest sleep. but you've never filed a story late, and you're not interested in doing so tonight.

"i'm not going to sleep till you do," he answers, rubbing his eyes. he pulls the sheets away and slides out of bed himself, shuffling toward the door after you.

"what are you doing?" you ask, taking a step back.

"if you leave me alone in here i might die," he says seriously. "you looking for your notebook? i put it on my coffee table," he explains, placing his hand at the small of your back while he guides you through his apartment. you barely have a second to grab it from the table before san is pulling you down onto the couch with him, locking you in his hold on his lap.

"um, san?" you ask. "i need my arms." he groans as he loosens his grip, and you try to scoot over to take up the ample space left on the couch.

"uh uh," he shakes his head, looking at you with sleepy eyes. "you're staying right here until you finish."

"but you'll distract me," you pout, which san tries to kiss away.

"distract you, or motivate you to hurry up so we can go to sleep?"

"fine," you sigh, getting comfortable in his lap as you prop your notebook open on his chest. "keep that there for me."

"yes ma'am," he mumbles, closing his eyes as you work. you flip through a few pages and find what you were looking for, trying to concentrate on transcribing the quote, but it's hard. you're not comfortable, so you keep shifting. san's hands tighten around you, but you ignore it. just a few more minutes and you'll be done, but damn, is your leg cramping? you try to move again, but end up yelping when you feel san pinch your thighs. "baby," he whines. "stop moving. i'm getting hard."

"jesus, really?" you ask, shifting again to see for yourself. "oh hello there."

"stop," san chuckles, looking at you with hooded eyes. "are you almost done?"

"i've got a few more sentences, then i need to proofread it," you reply. "so kinda."

"alright," he nods. "keep working, ace." so you do, reading back a few lines to catch your train of thought. you frown though, feeling san's hands trail up your thighs to play with the material of your panties.

"san, stop," you tell him. "you're being a distraction."

"ah, no i'm not," he says, cupping you in his hold as he sits forward. he fidgets with something for a minute before resting back against the cushions, and you gasp when you feel his cock against you. "i'm motivating you, remember?"

"san, what are you doing-"

"just keep working baby," he coos, pulling your panties to the side before sliding his cock through your folds. "want you to sit on it until you finish."

"funny," you twist his nipple, and he hisses.

"ah, no pun intended," he smiles, "but happy coincidence. come on, i'm bored, and if i don't do this i'll fall asleep."

"then sleep! i won't be able to focus with you...in me."

"try," san kisses you, sitting back with a smirk. "i believe in you baby. now keep working."

you look at the time and groan, because you don't have time to argue with him. you watch as he lifts your hips and sinks into you, letting out a shaky breath once your hips are slotted against his. he keeps his eyes on you, taking in every wince, every jolt, every bite of your lip to stop from whimpering. you feel so full, and san is so warm, and you can't focus but you're almost done-

"read the story to me," san says next, breaking through your thoughts once again.

"hold on," you say, completing the final sentence before you scroll back to the top. "on the record i think you're insane."

"that's a weird way to start an article about baseball," san smirks, so you roll your hips to get him to shut up. you start reading your story, and he listens like he's hooked on every word. at the first mention of his name, he lifts you up slightly before bringing your hips back down and you stutter on your words. "come on ace, keep reading."

"fuck you," you breathe out.

"you are," he smirks again, and you grit your teeth as you continue. you speed through the story, but san keeps slowly fucking you as you go. you find a typo and he stills while you fix it, but as you get to the end he picks up speed. when you finally read the last word, you place a hand on his chest and he stops again.

"let me send this to my editor, please, and then you can keep defiling me," you beg.

"i learn so many new words being around you," san jokes, but you're not listening. you manage to send the story at 11:59 exactly, and you toss your phone away before grabbing onto san's shoulders.

"you need a hobby or something," you get out between moans as he starts fucking you again. "fuck. feel so full, san."

"yeah?" he sighs. "you feel incredible. so tight, so warm for me."

"shit, you're not wearing a condom," you realize. "get out."

"hold on," he whines. "i'll pull out. just give me a minute. are you close?"

"very confident in your skills," you point out. "we haven't been fucking that long."

"but i can feel you dripping around me," he says, pinching your hips. "feel you squeezing me. i know you're loving this baby."

"i'm almost there," you fess up, rolling your hips against him to get some more friction. he brings a hand around to your core, his thumb tracing over your clit so teasingly it's driving you insane. you collapse in his hold, your head resting against his shoulder as you let out breathy moans. he slows down, just to tease you more, and you bite his shoulder.

"ow!"

"keep going," you groan against his skin. "gonna come, fuck-" and you feel your high crash into you, hips jerking against san's as you come. you're quick to hop off of him, which he protests, but you sit before him on your knees as you stroke his cock. he's got to be close, so you bring his tip to your lips to suck him into your mouth. he lets go almost immediately, gasping above you as he comes into your mouth. as soon as he's done, he pulls you off of him with a huff.

"show me, doll," he rasps, and you stick your tongue out to show him his release. you swallow most of it, some drips sneaking past your lips so you sit up and wipe them off on the edge of his boxers, still caught around his knees. "hey!"

"you can deal," you tell him, standing with his help. your legs are shaky, and the exhaustion is really hitting you now. "come on, let's go to bed before you keep us up all night."

-

for the next week or so, you and san fall into a habit of going home with each other after each game. the first two series of the season are at home, so it makes things easy for you. you don't have to talk about what you are to san or vice versa, it's just understood that any free time you have will be spent with each other.

you're getting nervous, though, because the first away series is this weekend. you're strictly a local reporter, so you don't travel with the team. you'll report solely based on what the broadcast team on site is saying, or by bugging the team with phone calls. a little piece of you is nervous that san will fall back into his superstar ways, because he did have a reputation before coming here for having...friends...in every city. you try to push that feeling away for now, but it keeps nagging you at the worst times.

like now, san has cornered you in the clubhouse, kissing you in between questions for your next story and all you can think about is the trip this weekend. you're trying to focus on the story, really. the team is on an unbeaten streak, and some of the guys have cited san as the reason for that. word around the team is that his energy and passion for the game has made them better. you're trying to get something heartfelt out of him, but he's distracted.

"baby, i'm doing some of my best work here," he mumbles against your lips. "can't the questions wait?"

"i'm on a deadline san, you know that," you say as you put your hand on his chest and push back. "two more questions, and then i'm all yours."

"fine," he sighs, taking a step back. his hands stay on your waist as you talk, his thumbs rubbing your skin beneath your shirt. you're able to get what you need, so you stop the recording on your phone and put it away.

"you know, if anyone ever hears those, i'd be fired," you tell him as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

"good thing i'm loaded," san smirks. "i can buy their silence and you can keep your job."

"you know i used to be a clean reporter?" you pinch his neck. "you're really blurring my ethical lines here."

"i won't tell if you don't," he whispers, kissing you again. you stay like that, lips locked together, until a buzzing in san's pocket interrupts you. "ah, i should get that."

"who's calling? you don't have friends," you tease him, your uneasy mind wondering if it's one of his usuals from out of state.

"it's the equipment team," he explains, "they've never packed my stuff for an away trip before so they want to confirm before they ship out."

san answers the call, but keeps a protective arm hooked around you so you can't leave. you distract yourself with a stray thread on his shirt as he talks, and when he hangs up he places his hand over yours.

"whatcha thinking about, ace?"

"when do you leave for the series this weekend?" you ask nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze.

"day after tomorrow," he replies. "i figured we'd get an off day here, but they want us to come in for an extra practice to stay sharp."

"gotta keep that win streak going on the road," you tell him. "like you promised."

"exactly," he smiles. "so when will you leave?"

"huh?"

"for the series," san asks in an equally confused tone. "you're coming with us, right?"

"i don't travel with the team," you shake your head. "so i'll be here, wasting away."

"aw, you're gonna miss me," san coos, pulling you into his side as he walks you down the hall. "guess i gotta fit in as much y/n time as i can before i go."

"seems like it," you give him a tightlipped smile before pulling away. "i gotta go back out to the field, i'm doing a report in a few minutes. so i'll text you when i'm done?"

"sure," he nods, kissing your forehead before you go.

-

you went back to your apartment at the end of the day, tired and mind racing. you're not even dating san, why are you so concerned about what he might get up to on this road trip? you try to busy yourself until san comes by with dinner, so you're in the middle of washing dishes when there's a knock at your door. you let san in, stepping to the side in your small entryway to let him through. it leaves him standing incredibly close to you as you close the door, but once the space is cleared he stays where he is.

"you can come in, weirdo," you laugh. "do you need me to move?"

"no hug? no kiss?" he complains, pouting his lips as if waiting for a smooch.

"my hands are wet," you say as you hold them up, "so no hug, but-" you stand on your toes and aim a kiss perfectly on top of lips, spinning around quickly after to go back to the kitchen. "put everything on the coffee table, i'll get plates."

you walk into your living room to find a feast laid out for you. how'd you miss san carrying in so much food? you place plates down for you both, sitting next to san so your thighs touch. he piles food on your plate as you tell him about the rest of your day, but when he keeps going you make him stop.

"do you think i never eat?" you laugh. "why the mountain of food?"

"i'll be out of town for a while," he shrugs. "gotta make sure you're taken care of before i go."

"right," you nod. "thank you, but this is plenty."

"want me to feed it to you?" he asks with a sappy look on his face, but you know he's serious.

"i'll kick you out if you even try."

"then what about you feeding me?"

"are you excited for the first road trip of the year?" you change the subject.

"i am," he says slowly. "not much to see there, though, so it'll be a boring trip. especially if you're not coming..."

"can't," you remind him. "the big man won't allow it."

"but let's say, i don't know, a player on the team had an extra ticket to the game...then what?"

"huh?" you look at him confused. "what are you saying?"

"if i told you i got you a ticket to the game, would you come?" he asks sincerely. he grabs your hand and squeezes, saying, "i need my good luck charm there."

"san, i don't know," you shake your head. "how would i get there? where would i stay?"

"you could travel with the other wives and girlfriends," he answers. "apparently it's a whole big trip, they do this every year for the first away series."

"but i'm not a wife or a girlfriend," you tell him. "i'm a reporter."

"then why don't you leave the notebook at home and just come to the game as my girlfriend?"

"your girlfriend?" you smile. "i think i can do that."

[hogwartsfirebolt]

the game’s the game

“What was going through your mind when you spotted the Snitch?”

Two camera shutters go off like lighting, but Draco doesn’t blink. It’s almost the end of the season, and he’s done a press conference every week. He’s used to them.

“Fucking finally,” he answers, and the journalists all laugh. They think he’s joking, and he can already imagine the articles they’ll publish tomorrow pronouncing him cheeky and funny, but he means it wholeheartedly. Six hours in the sky, drenched all the way through his pants in rainwater, and facing the very best player in the league? He had half a mind to jump off his broom if only to have the game end somehow.

“This is the second time you face PU and well, Harry Potter, this season,” says another reporter, a young, pretty woman with her hair pinned up and a reverent tone when she speaks Potter’s name. Like everyone. “Are you expecting to encounter him at this year’s Cup? And if so, how does that make you feel?”

Draco breathes out hard through his nose. Across the room from him, sitting at his own table against the wall opposite, Potter’s doing his own press conference. He’s wearing a hat backwards, the light blue of his team hoodie contrasting with his golden-warm skin tone. He has a hand to his chin, rubbing his short beard in thought at some question he’s being asked. Probably about just how sweet it had been to snatch that Snitch right from under Draco’s nose. He’s earnest and so gorgeous Draco can’t stand the sight of him.

“The game is the game,” Harry’s voice carries, clear and chesty, deeply masculine as he says his favorite little quote that means absolutely nothing and that fans have been yelling and tattooing on their bodies the whole season. “We don’t take any victory for granted. Coach has been running us to the ground, she won’t stop until we have that trophy in Puddlemere, and we’re doing our best to make her proud.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll face them at the Cup,” is what Draco answers at last. “Honestly? I think no other team comes even close. We’ll face them, and then we’ll bring the Cup home to Appleby. As Potter himself likes to say, the game is the game.”

All the cameras around him go off, the sound of Quick-Quills scrabbling and the reporters’ scandalized gasps at his use of Potter’s quote. He grins, puts his olive green Arrows cap on and stands to leave. He needs a fucking shower.

Later on, he’s sprawled on his hotel room couch, drying his hair with a towel and watching a replay of the game on the enormous television, making mental notes about his own flying, his mistakes, the times he dove too soon or hovered too low. When the screen follows the blue jersey with POTTER 7 emblazoned across the back, he looks closely, trying to spot mistakes but knowing he won’t find any. Potter’s probably the best flier of the century, and Draco loves Quidditch too much to lie to himself about that.

He’s admiring one of Potter’s physics-defying feints when there’s a knock on his door. Immediately, his heart takes up a gallop, and he has to press a hand to the center of his chest with a frown.

“Calm the fuck down, Malfoy,” he mutters. It’s a disproportionate reaction and he’s irritated with himself for it. It’s not as though it’s the first time. Or the tenth.

He pauses the game with a flick of his wand and makes his way to the door, through the archway that separates the TV room from the kitchenette. A quick look at the archway across the suite to make sure the bedroom is as he left it, and he’s at the door, taking a deep breath.

Potter’s grin is huge when Draco opens. He’s foregone all his team outwear, and is now in a familiar, worn leather jacket and a black sweater. His hair is wet, as though he rushed after his shower so he could get here quicker. Draco opens his mouth to say something, but before he figures out what, Harry pushes inside, turns around and presses him against the door, big hands gentle on Draco’s waist. Draco’s heart hasn’t gotten the “this isn’t the first or tenth time this happens,” memo, and is still running a marathon inside his chest, so he says nothing.

There’s a plastic bag in Potter’s hands. Dinner, probably, he usually brings dinner when they meet after a game. His wide smile reveals white teeth, a crooked canine that Draco knows is a baby tooth that never loosened. Round, stylish glasses cover the most intoxicating green eyes Draco has ever seen, and they’re shining with tonight’s victory. And Draco might be — definitely is — the world’s sorest loser, but he’s also the world’s biggest slut for Quidditch excellence, and he has it right here, holding him against his hotel room door.

“The game is the game?” Harry asks, amused, already leaning in, the hand on Draco’s waist moving to wrap the whole way around him and pull him close.

“Just some stupid phrase I’ve heard from a dickhead,” Draco answers, but the words hold the shape of a smile and are uttered right into a kiss there at the end.

It’s always a race at the start. They're both high from the game, still in that mindset, and it’s a competition to see who can undress quicker, who can make the other harder, who can earn the first moan and coax the first orgasm of the night. But after that first one, after Draco’s jaw aches dully and Potter is softening between his legs, everything slows down a little. Potter helps him up and they share the tacos Potter brought, watching the last minutes of the game they played earlier with Draco’s legs up on Potter’s lap, where he’s massaging his knees, his quads, making sure he’s not achy from kneeling for him.

“I really fucked that one up,” Potter comments. His tiny self on the screen just pulled out of an impossible dive at what looks like a 90 degree angle. He sounds earnest, which is the only reason Draco isn’t kicking him right in his beautiful face.

“I hate you so much. Only you would call that a fuck up.”

Potter hums, his massaging hands moving from Draco’s calf to his heel, his thumb pressing into his sole. On the screen, tiny Draco swerves a Bludger aimed to his head, and his teammate Owen is flying to him to make sure he’s alright.

“That guy is so into you,” Potter points out.

“I know. We fucked all through rookie year.”

Potter turns to look at him so fast it must hurt his neck. Draco raises an eyebrow, confused at the strong reaction.

“What?”

“I — I don’t know,” Potter says, suddenly sheepish. His hands haven’t stopped moving over Draco’s foot. Potter’s skin is dark, but Draco can still make out the blush spreading across his cheekbones. “Isn’t it weird? He’s a teammate.”

There’s something he’s not saying. It’s evident in the way he bites his bottom lip, in the way he obviously wants to look away but is too ridiculously brave to actually do it. Draco’s heart thumps inside his chest, so hard he’s sure it must be audible to Harry too.

They’ve never named this thing between them. The first time they did it, after the quarter finals one year before, with Potter’s ill advised kiss that ended with them fucking in the showers of the stadium after Potter had wiped the damn dust with Draco on the pitch, they agreed to keep it quiet, and that was the last they discussed of it. It’s going on fourteen months since then, and they’ve done it at least once a month, when the league brings them to nearby towns, and sometimes when it doesn’t and they take a quick midnight Portkey to each other to blow off some steam.

Draco had never in his life been as well-fucked as he’s been this past year, and he definitely doesn’t want to lose it. Potter’s always been honest and open with him, vocal in bed about how much he wants him, filthy in his occasional text messages when they’re apart, but he’s never given any indication that he wants anything other than exactly what they have.

“It’s not weird,” Draco says slowly, unsure of what to think of this exchange. “We stopped a while ago. I was clear that I didn’t want — that I’d rather we stayed friends and teammates, without any complications.”

“Right,” Potter says. He sounds relieved, and Draco feels like he’s three steps behind the conversation they’re having. He’s about to ask, but Potter’s fingers on his calf smooth over an old knot and he groans instead, letting his head fall back onto the couch cushion.

“That feels great,” he says, and Potter repeats the motion.

“Yeah. I think you pulled it when you made that X turn.”

The turn he made to try to beat him to the Snitch, he doesn’t say. How he had enough awareness to know Draco attempted it while diving for the Snitch himself is beyond comprehension, but Draco has long accepted that Potter is simply insane about the game. He notices everything, considers everything, takes every risk. If he weren’t a player himself, Draco knows he would be following Puddlemere and Harry wherever they played for the entire season, wearing a pale blue jersey with the number 7 on it.

“Probably,” Draco says, closing his eyes and groaning again when Harry keeps pressing the same point. After a moment, he feels something softer brushing his calf, and opens his eyes to find Harry bent over his leg, kissing a path up towards his knee. He can’t help the embarrassing little sound he makes, and Harry’s laugh is a puff against his skin as he keeps moving up, breath warm on the wet trail of his kisses up Draco’s thigh. In the background, the presenters are going crazy over a feint Harry pulled, the sound of the audience carrying all through the stadium and out of the TV speakers.

Harry has made his way high up and is kissing Draco’s birthmark, a brown, apple-sized beauty mark an inch below his groin when he lifts his head to ask, “Why didn’t you want to?”

Draco can’t believe he’s using his mouth to speak at that moment. He licks his lips, trying to make sense of the question.

“What? What are you even — ?” He tries to sit up a little, but Harry moves over him instead so they’re eye-level without Draco having to move at all.

“With Caddell. Why didn’t you want to keep seeing him?”

“Owen? Why the fuck are we talking about —,” Draco lets his head drop down onto the cushions again, a sigh punched out of him. Harry takes pity and leans forward to kiss him, lips soft over Draco’s, knowing exactly how to coax his kisses out of him the way he likes best.

“I just want to know,” Harry whispers against his lips. He’s breathless just from touching Draco, from rubbing his legs, from kissing him. Fuck, this is insane.

“I like him, but it wasn’t very exciting.” Draco says. He closes his eyes as Harry begins to kiss down his neck, and tries to really think about it, because he’s not even sure himself. “I wasn’t willing to risk our teamwork when what we had wasn’t even that … electric. I don’t know. This sounds insane.”

Harry shakes his head, his beard rubbing against Draco’s collarbone. “It doesn’t. I get it.” He bites on the delicate skin connecting neck and shoulder, licks a path down his chest. “I get electric.”

“Fuck yes you do,” Draco says, nonsensical, but he feels he can’t be blamed when Harry is brushing his lips over his nipples, broad hands moving around Draco’s body to secure a grip over his ass.

“Is this?” Harry asks, mouth nearing the V of Draco’s hips, the edge of the trail of hair leading to his crotch. “Electric?”

Draco swears, fingers running through Harry’s hair and finding a grip, hard. “If you don’t put your mouth on me right now I swear I — yes.”

He spreads his thighs to accommodate Harry between them, one hand gripping Harry’s hair and the other curled around the cushion over his head. It is electric, the way Harry knows exactly which buttons to push, sliding a finger inside him while keeping him on his tongue. He’s a prodigy in this too, the star player who knows every move in the playbook that is Draco’s body.

It feels like no time at all, no effort at all before Harry is pulling back, dragging Draco closer by the waist and working himself inside. The feel of it, the sound of them together, the look into Harry’s open gaze, his sweat dripping onto Draco’s chest and his hands underneath Draco’s back, holding him, pulling him onto him, have Draco nearing release almost too fast for his liking, but the night is young and it’s been so long that he lets himself go, a cord snapping in his core, eyes open as he watches Harry watch him come apart.

“Come on,” he says once he’s come down, lifting his hips, shifting his weight onto his shoulders. “Show me what you got, Potter.”

Harry groans and leans forward, kisses Draco’s jaw and his neck, and drives his hips faster. Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s back, moves with him as much as he can in the tight embrace, and remains close as Harry meets his own peak and tumbles down the edge.

They lie together for a couple minutes afterwards, panting into each other’s skins, basking in the afterglow.

“Some pro-athletes. We have the stamina of two eighteen year old virgins,” Draco mutters into Harry’s hair after a while, and feels Harry’s chest rumble with his laughter. The room is cast in the warm glow of the foot-lamp that stands beside the sofa they just fucked in, exactly like two eighteen year old virgins having the chance to touch for the first time in their lives.

Harry always goes boneless and slow after a good lay, so Draco eases him off his body with tenderness, a gentle hand to Harry’s chest, followed by a kiss.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He whispers.

Harry groans. “I don’t want to move.”

“That’s too bad, because I’m exhausted and I’m going to bed. Some idiot drove me to the ground on the pitch today.”

He stands up and shakes out his legs, testing the soreness of his muscles. There’ll be an ache tomorrow, but nothing he can’t handle.

Despite his complaint, Harry is already standing up too, coming up behind Draco, a hand finding its way to the flat of his belly, his forehead on Draco’s shoulder as though he can’t bear not to touch him for even a second.

“Bed it is,” he declares against the skin of Draco’s shoulder, sounding halfway asleep already. Draco huffs a laugh and pulls him towards the bedroom, pausing at the kitchenette to grab two glasses of water that he watches Harry drink in three gulps, a couple drops sliding down the sides of his mouth, into his beard and down his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“What?” He asks when he catches Draco watching him, and Draco shakes his head and pulls him to bed. He’s so handsome it’s genuinely upsetting sometimes. Draco thinks he’d throw a tantrum about it daily if it weren’t for the fact that he gets to touch him.

They try their best, but they don’t manage a second round before their eyes fall shut, tucked into each other like two hands cupped under a stream of water, tumbling into a satisfied, exhausted sleep.

Harry wakes him with a kiss before daybreak, the last of the night chilling the room and puckering Draco’s skin.

“Do you have to go already?” Draco asks, one eye still closed and a hand curled possessively around Harry’s bicep, not entirely on purpose.

Harry shakes his head, kisses him again with a gentleness that is meant to go nowhere but extend this kiss, warm and sweet.

“I thought we could talk.”

Draco is nodding before fully grasping the meaning, but even once he does he’s not tempted to back away. Must be the night, still cocooning them, must be Harry’s arms around him that are making him brave, but he’s not nervous anymore, not now that he’s remembered what they’re like, together.

“It is electric,” he says, suspecting that’s what Harry wants to talk about. “It’s always electric with you.”

The smile blooms slowly, lighting up Harry’s face from within, his beautiful eyes, unhidden this early in the morning, his glasses still on the bedside table. Harry sits up a little, clears his throat. It seems like he’s been gearing up for this, he’s squaring his shoulders the way he does before trying a dangerous feint, before performing a play that will have Draco biting dust. This insane, wonder of an athlete. Draco forces himself to shake the last of the sleep away, to focus on him, on what he wants to say.

“I know that … so many of us want you,” Harry starts. “On your team, on mine, the whole league, actually. But I —”

He looks like he’s stating an absolute truth, like he has irrefutable proof, and Draco is taken aback. He knows some of the guys find him attractive, but that’s not the same as being wanted. He shakes his head. “What? Where did you get that?”

“I’ve talked about it with the guys, but that’s not the point,” he adds hurriedly when he sees his eyes widen. Draco hasn’t said a word to anyone, not out of shame, but out of sureness that they were sneaking around, that they were making it a point to hide. Apparently, he was wrong. Harry continues, “What I want to say is … I know we’ve not agreed on anything, that you’re free to want others, be with whoever you want to be with. I thought that you knew where I stood, that if you weren’t saying anything it was because you didn’t want the same thing I did, but it’s been brought to my attention that if I’ve not made an honest offer, I can’t assume you’re saying no.”

Draco’s heart is hammering inside his chest, inside his throat. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but if he’s right, it seems Harry is saying …

“I don’t want this to be a once a month thing. I want to bring you home, I want you to meet my family, and I want the guys to know that I’m saying no to all the people they set me up with because I’m taken and completely uninterested in anyone else. Are you … is that something you want, too? I know you might have better offers, but I – ”

The covers crinkle under Draco’s knees as he sits up, throws a leg over Harry’s body so he can fully sit on his lap and brings him forward by the neck.

“You beautiful idiot. What could be a better offer? Why would I care about any other offers when I have the best one right here?”

They’re kissing, and Harry’s gasping, and Draco’s frenzied heart pounds against his sternum. He nods into the kiss, feels dizzy with how much he wants what’s being offered. Fuck. There’s nothing he wants more.

Harry pulls back a little, whispers: “Does this mean we’re — ?”

“Yes, fuck. It’s — The game’s the game.”

“What — That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Shut up. It’s your quote.”

Then they’re laughing into a new kiss, and it’s not the first, or even the tenth time they’re together like this, but Draco’s heart still goes crazy for this man, for his unlimited talent, his openness, his electric company. Quarter finals are coming up, then semis, then they might meet again on the pitch and Draco might lose and throw a strop and want to tear the hair out of his head over the beautiful Quidditch Harry plays, and then they’ll get to go home and celebrate a victory. No matter who takes the trophy. That’ll be the game.

Read On Ao3

[jason-todd-fangirl-14]

Jason Grace Dating Headcanons!!

Thank you to all who begged for this after I mentioned I wanted to write it. This one goes out to ya’ll!! Other PJO characters dating hcs may come out as well, probably sometime after the new year if I decide to write them at all. Lmk any male characters you’d like to see if I were to do them. In the meantime, enjoy our blond Superman’s dating hcs!!

•for starters, Jason would 1000% be a gentleman. You cannot convince me otherwise.

•if you’re with him anywhere, in public or in the privacy of your own space, he will make sure your hand is in his basically at all times. If you pull your hand from him, he will give you such a disapproving look LOL.

•if you’re ever out driving just you two, he will almost always be in the drivers seat. He just loves driving his passenger princess around anywhere she wants. This may just be me, but I feel like he’d have bad motion sickness in the car, especially after his mother died in a car accident, and the only way he'd be able to be in the car is if he’s the one behind the wheel.

•book advent calendars every Christmas, Valentine’s Day & your birthday!

•Jason Grace is definitely a chivalrous man, and nobody can convince me otherwise!! He carries all of your bags if you go shopping at the mall, opens every car and building door. Heck, he will even carry you around like a bride on her wedding day if you’re too tired to walk or if you injured yourself. He won’t ever complain.

•he definitely will spoil you.

•I feel like his love language would be acts of service, physical touch or gift giving—not really receiving. He won’t ever turn down a gift from you, but he prefers to be the one giving the gift instead. He still lets you anyway.

•let us all never forget that Jason is definitely a hugger. I mean he tried hugging Nico until he realized he didn’t like hugs, and immediately backed up and apologized.

•because of this, if you happen to be like Nico, in the sense that you too don’t like hugs, he’ll back off and apologize to you, as well. Which brings me to the next headcanon:

•RESPECTFUL™!!! Must I elaborate farther??

•as for dates, he’s definitely the type to set up a picnic under the stars.

•for food served at your picnic date, I think Jason will ask Leo to help him make your favorite meal. It will end up turning out amazing because duh, Leo coached him!

•he’s definitely the type to date for marriage, and I think he’ll know very quickly if he wants to marry and settle down with you. I mean, he was already imagining a future with Piper not long after they began dating, sooooo.

•also to go with that one, he definitely already has money laid aside for your engagement ring.

•on another note, I can see Jason letting you try on his glasses. He will definitely comment on how he thinks you look better with them on then him.

•so. many. compliments!!

•expect a bouquet of flowers from the Demeter/Ceres cabin on your front steps of your house and/or cabin every month.

•little notes left by Jason with poems, reminders or words of affirmation will be all over your home/cabin.

•despite the challenges he faces with learning disabilities, I can see Jason being an huge reader, and I can see him reading all of you favorite books so he can sit down together to discuss things with you.

•encouragement in every single situation, good or bad.

•your well being and needs will ALWAYS come first, he even vowed it on the River Styx.

•if you have a fear of heights, he’ll for sure be down to help you overcome it. Keep in mind tho, he won’t ever push you into facing it until you’re ready.

•if you’re afraid of thunder and/or storms in general, he will be definitely down to cuddle to make you feel better. Tho he has some control over thunderstorms, he wouldn’t be strong enough to go up against his dad (also only one with a death wish would be willing to go up against Zeus), so cuddles and distraction is the only way for him to help you.

anyways, overall, Jason is 10/10 husband materiel!!

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt. 7

Jacket

◀︎previous part

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan comes by to get his jacket he left behind, but ends up leaving with you too tags (f) masturbation, a prayer gone wrong, idk if this is blasphemous or not, if it is, i'm sorry

wc 1.4k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact :)*

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

Last night, after Negan left, you realized he left behind his leather jacket. Secretly, you wished he’d come back and get it so you could see him again. Although if he did, you wouldn’t know how to act, especially since you were home alone this time. You shamelessly held the garment up to your nose and inhaled the scent. It smelled like his cologne, which immediately relaxed you. The smell brought you back to all those times Negan comforted you in his arms when you were sad at school and the rare times you’ve hugged him out of happiness. You’d do anything to feel his arms around you again, whether it be hugging you, touching you…feeling you. You pulled the jacket away from your face, embarrassed that your mind went there, and even more ashamed at the wetness pooling between your legs. 

You hurried upstairs to your room and tossed the jacket on your bed before kneeling on the floor. You had to get those sinful thoughts out of your head and you knew exactly how. You closed your eyes, bowed your head, and folded your hands. 

“Dear Lord,” you prayed, “please please please get these sinful thoughts out of my head! I don’t mean to think them, they just appear whenever I think of Negan.” At the mention of his name, your mind automatically wandered to him, recalling that time he came to your rescue in the locker room and took off his sweater, revealing his toned stomach, hip bones, the hair around his belly button that trailed beneath his gym shorts. You shook the image out of your head and tried to continue your prayer. 

“I didn’t mean to sin,” your voice cracked as tears pricked your eyes, “I’m gonna do my best to stop thinking about him like that…” Your mind pictured him pulling off his sweater and t-shirt he always wore underneath all the way off, finally showing you the tattoos you got glimpses of here and there. He’d smirk at you as his licks his lower lip before ordering you to your knees and-

“Please forgive me!” You rushed out, unable to stop the thoughts. Your pussy was soaked and throbbing as you imagined your coach and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Prayer didn’t help, so maybe giving into the thoughts would. You stood up and pulled down your jeans and panties before stepping out of them and getting into your bed. Grabbing the leather jacket, you held it up to your nose and inhaled his scent once again. Your hand quickly found your stiffened clit and began rubbing circles at the perfect pace, pleasuring you further. You were so sensitive that your orgasm was approaching quickly. Your back arched and hips bucked up, rutting against your own hand as your eyes rolled in the back of your head. 

“Ah! Negan!” You moaned out quietly as you pictured it was his hand bringing you closer to your peak. You took another whiff of his jacket, inhaling the faint aromas of cigarettes and cologne, before sitting up. You grabbed one of your pillows and put the jacket on it before humping it as your orgasm washed over you. Hot tears of shame poured out of your eyes as you sobbed, ashamed of what you just did. If Negan or your parents ever found out what you did, they’d never look at you the same again. You were already sure that God was disgusted at your depravity and honestly, you were, too. You buried your face in your other pillow as you sobbed into it. 

Through your sobs you heard the doorbell ring. You ignored it, but the person on the other end kept ringing it and banging on the door. It was probably the mailman or a neighbor wanting a petition to be signed, but their knocking and the bell ringing was growing annoying, so you forced yourself out of bed, not bothering to put on your panties or jeans because your t-shirt was long enough. 

“What!” You snapped as you aggressively flung the door open. You immediately regretted your choice of clothing and attitude when you saw it was Negan standing in the doorway. Your hands flew to the bottom of your t-shirt and tugged at it, trying, but failing, to make it longer. His hazel eyes scanned you up and down, taking in your nervous stance and tear swollen eyes.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” He asked, that dimpled grin on his smug face. You used your other hand to wipe at your teary eyes. 

“What do you- why are you here?” You stuttered. 

“Left my jacket here last night and that shit was expensive as hell, so I came to get it back.” 

Right, the jacket. Your mind was so far gone that you were embarrassed you didn’t realize. 

“Oh, yeah. Right. C-come in, have a seat and I’ll go get it.” He followed you inside, glancing around the living room as if he weren't here yesterday. His eyes, however, lost focus on the plain four walls of the living room when they happened to land on your ass, or at least the little part you struggled to keep from peeking out underneath your oversized t-shirt. You held the shirt tightly between balled fists as you hurried up the stairs, both in a rush to put on some pants and get Negan the hell out of there. 

It was only then that the severity of what you did just hit you. You had just humped his jacket, used his jacket to bring yourself to an orgasm. Knots formed in your stomach upon realizing that you'll have to give him his jacket that you just masturbated with. Your heart beat faster and your hands shook as you picked his jacket up off your bed. You inspected it and relaxed a little upon realizing your actions seemingly left no trace. After quickly throwing your panties and jeans back on, you hurry back downstairs with the jacket in hand. 

"What's with the outfit change? What you had on before was cute," he teased with a shit eating grin on his face. 

Shame burned on your face and you violently tossed the jacket at him, but Negan being Negan, he caught it effortlessly. 

"Well, there's your jacket..." you said awkwardly, almost as if you were dismissing him from your home. Truthfully, though, you didn't want him to leave, even if it was hard to face him. 

The silence in the air was stiff as he sat in the living room. He was on the edge of the couch, torn between getting up to leave, and staying. When his eyes met yours, you quickly averted them, choosing to look toward the kitchen instead. Last night, you were so bold. You were all over him, being such a tease, but now you seemed more shy than before. He didn't know what changed, but it seemed to tell him all he felt he needed to know; he was making you uncomfortable, and that's the last thing he'd ever want to do. 

"Guess I'll head out now. Got shit to do," he announced as he stood from his seat on the couch. 

"Wait!" you squeaked, causing him to freeze. Oddly enough, a tinge of relief washed over him at that. 

"Do...do you want something to drink?" 

He sat back down, this time actually relaxing into the leather couch. "I'll take a beer, sweetheart." The term of endearment caused the butterflies in your tummy to go wild. You hurried into the kitchen, unable to look at Negan any longer, and rummaged through the fridge. You hoped your dad wouldn't be upset if you took one of his beers and gave it to Negan, but you were grounded indefinitely, so did it even matter? 

"Here." You handed him the cold bottle and his larger hand caressed your smaller one during the handoff, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You didn't notice the way the corner of his mouth tugged into a sly smirk at your reaction. You plopped down onto the couch beside him and began chugging the cold glass of water you got for yourself, when in reality, what you really needed was a cold shower. 

"What the hell do you even do all day now that you're on spring break?" he asked between sips of his beer. 

"Absolutely nothing. I'm grounded forever, remember?" 

"Why don't we get out of here?" 

You think for a second. Deep down you were afraid of getting into more trouble, but following your parents' rules your whole life led you to being the most hated in your school and having no friends. 

"Let's go." 

Next Part ▶︎

@dungeons-bat since you asked to be tagged!

[sweetdispatch]

Empty house - C. Keller

masterlist pairing: Clayton Keller x fem!reader summary: Clayton is trying to cope after losing you warning: death

It happened in a moment. Clayton left the house to go for a morning training and you went downstairs to make yourself breakfast. Something happened and you collapsed on the floor. Thankfully, he forgot to grab the house keys and get back home. He saw you laying on the floor and immediately reacted. He called the ambulance that took you to the hospital. 

Clayton was heartbroken. You looked normal before he left and after a minute, he saw you on the floor. He couldn’t erase the image from his head. You were there so lifeless. He didn’t know what happened and the doctors were still looking for the answer. He couldn’t sit on the chair and was pouncing on the corridor. What he heard next killed a part of him. 

“She’s gone, Mr. Keller. We tried everything. My condolences” Those words were ringing in his ears.

Clayton felt like his world just fell apart. You were his world. He planned the whole future with you and now you are gone. This didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t believe that the love of his life was gone. He sat down on the chair for the first time and completely broke down in tears. This was unfair for him. 

You were so young. There were so many things Clayton wanted to experience with you. He didn’t know what to do. This information couldn’t reach his mind that you were gone. He called your parents to tell them and just like him, they couldn’t believe it. He told them that he’ll take care of everything to help the family. 

Next thing Clayton did was call his coach. He told him what just happened and the coach told him to take as much free time as he needed. He put his phone into a pocket and left the hospital. He couldn’t see you. He didn’t want to believe it. He wanted this to be a sick joke and see you in the house sitting on the couch with the dog. 

This didn’t happen. Clayton entered the house and looked at the kitchen. He felt the tears growing in his eyes and completely broke in tears. The house felt so empty without your presence. Without the smell of your cooking, without the sight of you playing with the dog. He felt completely lost in his own house. 

Clayton sat on the couch and tried to understand this morning but he couldn’t. It was like a nightmare. He spotted the photo of you two in the frame standing on the shelf and went to grab it. You were smiling at the camera. It was from the first game you appeared as his girlfriend. This was three years ago but for him, it felt like it was only yesterday. 

“You did so good out there” You jumped into his arms. 

“I had the best support out there” Clayton kissed you. 

“Oh stop it” You pushed him and laughed. 

“That’s true” Clayton smiled at you. 

“Can we take a picture? I want to capture this moment” You asked him and Clayton quickly handed his phone to one of his teammates. 

You smiled at the camera but Clayton’s eyes were at you. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you. His eyes were full of love when he was watching you. 

Clayton smiled at the memory. He couldn’t believe that you won’t see his game ever again. He hugged the photo and cried even harder. His dog heard it and quickly appeared by his side. He petted him behind the ear, a place where you were always petting him. 

“She’s gone buddy. It’s only you and me” Clayton told his dog with tears in his eyes. 

The next thing Clayton heard was a ring bell. He went to open the door and spotted a couple of his teammates. They didn’t say anything, just pulled him into a hug. Everyone in the team knew how much you meant to him and how madly in love he was with you. They couldn’t imagine what he’s going through. Clayton let them into the house and they sat down on the couch until he spotted Nico sitting on your spot.

“That is her spot” Clayton pointed at Nick and he quickly stood up to sit on a different side. 

No one could sit on this place on the couch. It was yours. Clayton wanted you to come back and sit there. To prove to him that this is his imagination. He didn’t let anyone sit there. This was forever your favorite spot when you were always sitting and waiting for him. His teammates tried to talk with Clayton but he was just standing and looking from time to time at the door. He hoped that you’ll enter the house with bags of groceries like you had in habit. 

“I hate the lines in the store” You said when you entered the house. 

“Why didn’t you go to the self-checkout?” Clayton asked you. He never understood it. 

“I only had money on me” You shrugged it off and placed the bags on the counter. “Can you unpack the bags? I need to change the clothes” You told him and Clayton arrived by your side. 

“Go, I’ll take care of it” Clayton kissed your cheek and you disappeared upstairs. 

His teammates looked at him and felt bad for him. You were a huge part of the team, especially when Clayton became a captain. They were always joking that you were like a mom to them, trying to organise everything and always inviting them on their day off.

“You’re always welcome in our house, just let me know earlier so I can prepare food” You told them. 

“You’re too good for us” Barrett said and the rest of the boys nodded in agreement. 

 “Don’t use it too much” Clayton warned them and you giggled. 

“Don’t worry about him. Our house is your house” You smiled at them. “Oh and Dylan, Jack, if you still need help with the decorations, call me and I’ll help you” 

“You’re an angel” Dylan said and hugged you. 

“Seriously, I don’t know what we would do without you” Jack told you. 

They were there for Clayton but could feel that his head was still in hospital. They wanted to help him but didn’t know how because he didn’t say a word to them. They were just sitting there looking at him, hoping that he would finally speak. They didn’t push him, they knew that he needed time. 

“She was so happy this morning. We planned to go to dinner after the training. She even found a French restaurant to try because she was talking about onion soup for the past couple days” Clayton finally said. “What the hell I’m gonna do now”

“We’re here for you” Sean said but Clayton only shook his head.

“With all the respect guys, I need her here, not you” Clayton told them. “Can you leave me alone? Please” 

“We’re one phone call away from showing up at your door. You can call us any hour” Michael told him when they all stood up. 

“Thank you” Clayton said goodbye to them and went upstairs. 

Clayton stood in the bedroom entry. He saw that you didn’t make the bed and smiled. You were always waking up after him but you never made the bed. For you it was pointless to do it when you two are not spending a day there and you’re gonna mess it up when you will be laying in the evening. 

Clayton walked into the room and sat on your part of the bed. You were sleeping closer to the window because you enjoyed waking up and looking through it. He noticed your cup with half drunk tea. He was always placing you the cup because he knew how much you liked drinking warm lemon tea no matter what the weather was. 

Next to the cup was your airpods. You were always falling asleep with music on. Clayton didn’t like noises so you were always with your headphones in ears. He opened the drawer and saw your lip balms. Things you were always using before sleep and right after you wake up. Next to it was a puck. He grabbed it and looked at it. He remembered it. 

“First goal with you here” Clayton kissed your lips. 

“I’m so proud. Gosh I finally witnessed your goal” You said excitedly. 

“This is for you” Clayton handed you the puck. “It’s our first goal” 

“First of many” You kissed his cheek and looked at the puck. 

Clayton put the puck into the drawer and closed it. He stood up and went into the bathroom. He spotted your makeup ready to be used. You were always doing your makeup after breakfast because you didn’t want to ruin it while eating. He smiled at the view of your mascara, brow gel and lipstick being ready to use. 

Clayton was wandering around the house without any point. In every corner he could see something that reminded him of you. Tears were rolling down his face but he couldn’t care less. The house felt empty now, so silent. He missed your laugh, your singing while cooking and your pointless questions. 

“Would you love me if I lost my tooth?” You asked him without taking your eyes from your phone.

“What?” Clayton laughed and you looked at him. “What kind of question is that?”

“I saw a guy who lost his tooth yesterday in a game and I was wondering” You told him like it was the most normal thing. 

“I would love you without every tooth” Clayton kissed the top of your head. 

The next couple of days were even worse for Clayton. He needed to arrange your funeral. This was killing him, the thought that you’re really gone and this is your last farewell. He wanted all the best for you, not even bothering about the money. In his mind, you deserved the whole world and he was willing to give it to you. 

A week later was your funeral. Everyone was crying but Clayton wasn’t. He froze in one spot. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. This felt surreal for him. Before your casket was closed, your family went to have a final goodbye. As a last person, he went there. He looked at your body for the last time and shared his first tears this day. 

“You're supposed to still be there. We promised to grow old together. I was supposed to propose to you” Clayton took out the ring from his pocket. “I bought it a month ago and planned to do it in the french restaurant but I’ll do it now” He put the ring on your finger. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you baby. I don’t want to say goodbye, I want you next to me. I love you Y/N and forever will be” 

A month after the funeral, Clayton returned to training. He knew that this is what you would want. Everyone was telling him that he can take more time off but he needed this. He needed to put his head somewhere else because the house felt so cold without you. He refused to do any media, he only wanted to focus on hockey. 

The first game after was hard for Clayton. It was a home game and you weren’t in the stands. When he scored a goal, he looked at your usual spot but no one was there. He kissed his hand and put it high in the air. This goal was dedicated to you. Maybe you weren’t there physically with him, but he could feel your presence. 

Weeks went by and with every scored goal, Clayton did exactly the same thing. Every goal was a goal for you. You were still his rock. At home, he was talking to the photo of you. This was therapeutic for him. He hoped that one day you’ll answer him back. His teammates tried to help him but no one could heal his broken heart. 

Clayton died with you that day and nothing could change it. Only you could fix him.

[slaughter-kin]

the 141 as dads

captain john price-

• this man is would be such a good dad

• we all know for a fact this man has a breeding kink so i see him having like 3/4 kids

• waking up early in the morning and eating bowls of cereal watching old cartoon re runs with them

• would start smoking outside or exclusively in his office because he doesn’t want that around them

• type of dad in his retirement to coach his kids football/soccer team

• the best for laying the child on his chest, humming as they fall asleep

• would be super interested in what his children’s interest are (this goes for all of them but i’m putting it here)

• takes his kids on camping and fishings trips

• loves to play hide-n-seek with his kids

• his kids would mock his actions and stand in front of the tv with his hands behind his back, and when they are napping on the couch his kid would also start snoring cause we all know this man snores LOUDLY

• type of dad whenever his kids mention they like eating something once he buys like 5 boxes of it

• would cry they say their first word no matter what is is

• loves taking them to the park

kyle ‘gaz’ garrick-

• okay literally the best dad ever

• i could see him with like 2 or 3 kids

• MATCHING OUTFITS

• if he had girls he would 1000% learn all kind of cute braid styles for them

• when he found out his spouse was pregnant he would be shocked but happy and would immediately buy 100 what to expect when you’re expecting books

• would hate when he kids got into trouble cause he would hate laying the law down but would sit them down and talk every calm but firm

• then would go into another room and be like 🥺

• would NEVER get angry with his kids

• all the mothers would flirt with him in the pickup line at school and he just ignores it

• he thinks his children deserve the entire world

• his kids call Price grandpa

• will blow raspberries on their stomachs until they they can’t stop giggling

• takes 1000 photos of his kids doing anything and then spam sends them to his spouse

• got so nauseous the first time he changed a diaper

• family halloween outfits

john ‘soap’ mactavish-

• such a fun dad

•pillow forts

• ice cream for breakfast

• if he had a son/sons he would cut their hair in the mohawk style as well

• would want so many children omg

• he comes from a big family so i think he would want one as well

• but if his spouse didn’t want a big family he would be okay with it

• if you’ve watched modern family he would be like phil dunphy

• would put his kids on those kid leashes whenever they go anywhere

• i feel like one thing he would struggle with is saying no to his children

• would always help them with their math and science homework

• type of dad to do push ups while his kids are sitting in his back and they are all giggling

• the proudest dad ever! is at every dance recital or sports game or talent show and if he can’t be (because of his job) he would ask all about it when he got home and even if they did poorly he would still tell them how proud of them he is and go her ice cream

•TICKLE FIGHTS

• it would also tear him up if couldn’t be there during a special event for his children

• i also feel like he would cry at major life milestones

• if his children/kid are into sports all you can hear at games is him yelling across the field

simon ‘ghost’ riley-

• GIRL DAD SIMON GIRL DAD SIMON GIRL DAD SIMON

• just imagine him with a pink baby holder strapped to his chest

• he would be such a good father omg

• with his past with his father he would be super scared at first but then as he’s holding this tiny infant he would get angry (not at child obviously) cause how could anyone treat their child the way his father treated him?

• would be super protective of his children (i mean all of them would tbh)

• as cute as it is for the baby to wear little skull head clothing, i don’t think he would want his children knowing ‘Ghost’.

• i think one thing he would struggle with is when his kids throw tantrums when it’s over something ridiculous like he wouldn’t let them pull their siblings hair or eat something gross off the floor and he doesn’t know how to deal with them. he doesn’t want to get to firm and scare them and he doesn’t want to give into such ridiculous things so he would kinda back away and look at you for help

• his kids would 1000% get his accent

• loves to lift them up with his arms, whooshing them around like they are a super hero

• has tea parties with his kids and their stuffed animals on a regular basis

• such a big softie for his children/child are you kidding me

• his children/kid use him as like a jungle gym and are usually hanging off his arms

• would never tell them what he does for work and when they ask he would just say ‘work’

i would give any of these men children or all of them

let me know if you have any feedback!!

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter four

summary: buck finally runs into grace, and then buck and eddie surprise you in your apartment.

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i purposely made this vague so you can choose who’s who when reader is blindfolded lol, but if you wanna know who i imagined them as just ask hehe<3 enjoy💋

warnings: smut, non-con (but reader enjoys it??idk how to tag this), buddie breaks into readers house<3, descriptions of violence/murder (nothing too graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

It was easy to get to this point. It didn’t take much to spike the not-so-secret drink Grace keeps under the bar counter during her shift. And it was easy to convince you to go over to Eddie’s for the night to hang out. 

They kept away from you for weeks; patiently waiting for a night that Grace has to work with Isaac. Every time they work together, Isaac walks her part of the way home; just until he gets to his own apartment, and then she’s alone the rest of the way. They know if they see Grace being rude to their sweet girl one more time, they won’t want to wait, so not seeing your pretty face is something they have to endure. They can’t risk being taken away from you.

They have everything meticulously planned. 

Grace is alone, at night, in a dangerous part of town. Check. 

The cameras in the alley placed almost halfway between Grace and Isaac’s house have mysteriously stopped working a couple weeks ago. Check.

Their soft girl is safely at Eddie’s house with many pictures taken of them and Christopher doing crafts, acting as an airtight alibi. Just in case. Check.

Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

Once Grace passes by the alley, barely even paying attention to her surroundings, Buck emerges from the shadows and grabs her. She tries to scream, but a large hand covers her mouth quickly, pulling her against a broad chest as she’s pulled deep into the alley. 

The last thing she sees is the mask. 

The last thing she smells is the metallic scent of her own blood.

“What are you?” These words are the last thing she hears. The voice is dark, and almost comes out as a growl as he holds the phone in one hand and the knife in the other.

“I’m nothing. I deserve this.” she stutters out, tears streaming down her face and mascara smudged all over her cheeks. Her last words. 

It took some coaching to finally get her to say the words; the proof is shown in the video, in the form of scrapes on her arms and legs, and the cuts littered across her pale skin, but it’s worth it.

Both Buck and Eddie know what she’s saying is true, even if she doesn’t quite believe it yet, and they want her to feel as worthless as she made you feel when she said those awful things to you.

As Buck is walking away, down the part of the street that he knows have no working security cameras facing the street, wiping the splatters of red off of his mask with his black sleeve, he thinks about you and Eddie. 

He imagines you laughing and smiling with him and Chris, and he smiles to himself. He imagines himself there, slowly spreading you open for them after Chris goes to bed, everyone's bellies full from your wonderful cooking. Having to make sure you’re completely silent as they mark you, the crimson falling down your pretty skin. 

His little family. Almost complete.

 Now all they need is for you to accept their love. Which shouldn’t be difficult now. Grace made you insecure, and now that she’s taken care of, they’ll be able to convince you that they want you. They’ll make sure you accept them. 

Buck is still running on pure adrenaline when he gets to Eddie’s house, waiting strategically in his jeep down the street until Eddie has driven you home and is back in his house. They sit on the couch, Buck’s phone held up between them as they listen to Grace's pleading and whimpering.

They know that they can’t wait any longer to have you, but they know they have to be careful. Again. They know they can’t do anything now; calling Eddie’s babysitter up so late and asking her to stay the night with Chris would be suspicious, especially when a body would turn up soon, killed around the same time.

So, the next night, when the body is found, they leave when Chris’s babysitter arrives. Their masks are already in Buck’s jeep, and they ride over to your house in silence, eagerly counting down the seconds until they can see their pretty girl.

You’re fast asleep when the front door to your apartment opens, but you don’t hear it; you’re sleeping soundly with alcohol coursing through your veins. You had found out about Grace today, and while she was rude to you, she had been your friend at one point. To self sooth, you poured a few too many shots, and are now sprawled out on your back on your bed, breathing heavily.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel a warm hand covering your mouth and cold metal held to your throat. Your body tenses as you stay completely still, barely able to make out the two masked men standing directly over you.

“You scream and I’ll slit your throat. You got that, sweetheart?” the smaller one hisses quietly into your ear. You nod quickly, keeping your mouth shut as you look up at them with bloodshot eyes. They almost feel bad; they knew you’d be upset about that bitch’s death, but not this upset.

The other man chuckles darkly at your submissive demeanor, then reaches down to your oversized t-shirt, lifting the hem of it with his knife. You shiver as you feel the cold metal moving up your skin. If he pressed any harder, you’re sure he’d draw blood, and in your dazed state, you’re still sound enough to understand that that’s probably what he wants. 

“No panties? You were just waiting for us, weren’t you baby?” you hear the smaller one ask in a condescending tone. You let out a shaky breath, and although you know you should be terrified, that you should scream and hope someone calls the police, you can’t bring yourself to. You’re not even sure if this is real. You’re only half sure that someone is actually in your apartment right now. All you know that is real right now, is the pool forming between your legs.

You know you shouldn’t be turned on right now, but the way they’re looking down at you, their heads slightly tilted as they examine you has your heartbeat quickening. And not just because they could kill you at any time.

They both look at each other for a split second before one man is grabbing your wrists and tying them to the bed, and the other is fastening a blindfold around your eyes. It’s tight, almost too tight, and although you squirm in their grip in a mix of surprise and fear, you still don’t scream.

“What a good girl for us.” one of them speaks. You think it’s the larger man, but you’re really not sure.

“You gonna keep being good for us, sweet girl?” the other one asks, and you nod quickly. You feel your legs being yanked apart by large hands, and you let out a quiet yelp. You feel a hand on your neck as soon as the noise escapes your throat, and the familiar cold metal dragging across your plush tummy lightly. A string of apologies tumble out of your lips before they can even scold you, and they smirk at each other; their masks having been discarded immediately after they know you were securely fastened to the bed.

You gasp quietly again when your shirt is yanked up, now bunching above your chest. Your nipples harden as the cold air hits your skin, but two warm palms grab your tits quickly, protecting you from the cold as they begin to massage you. You let out a low moan as the man tweaks your nipples, and your breath catches in your throat as the other man’s mouth attaches to your dripping cunt. 

The man that’s playing with your tits, you assume, as the other man is slowly moving his tongue through your glistening folds, shushes you quietly before his lips press searing kisses around your breasts. His hands are still squeezing and groping at your chest, as the other man’s tongue darts in and out of you desperately, nose nudging your clit in a way that has quiet whimpers threatening to escape your lips. 

You’re trying so hard not to make a sound. Your fear is heightening your pleasure as you struggle against the restraints, desperate to touch them.

Even as they work you closer and closer to the edge, you can barely even make out what’s happening. You’re still drunk, you’re sure of it, and with all the emotions swarming around your head with Grace’s death, you think that maybe this is some weird dream.

But, dream or not, you feel fucking incredible. And the real-not-real tongue fucking your greedy cunt is making you see stars.

You’ve also never had this much attention focused on your tits, and with the way the man is tweaking and sucking on your nipples, you feel like you’d come just with his touch alone.

Your breathing is coming out in laboured pants, and you whimper quietly as you bite your lip, knowing what could happen if you make too much noise.

The man attached to your core moans when he feels your pussy clench, and he inserts two fingers into your core, curling his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

“You gonna come for us sweet girl?” You nod desperately, and both men chuckle. You gasp softly as you feel the knife against your throat, almost enough to slice your soft skin.

“You’re not gonna tell a single person about this, yeah? Promise us that, and we’ll let you come. How’s that sound, gorgeous?” one speaks.

“Yes, yes, yes. Promise. Please.” you plead, trying not to move your head. One wrong move, and you’re sure the knife will cut your throat.

You come not long after, the knife taken from your throat as the attention is focused back on your perfect tits. Your thighs squeeze the head between your thighs, and the man lets out a low growl, teeth grazing your clit and large hands holding your thighs apart as he works you through your orgasm.

Once he’s licked up all your juices, they both remove themselves from you and stand up with smirks. It’s obvious that one man wishes he could’ve tasted your sweet cunt, but by the sounds of your heaving chest and the sight of your quivering thighs, they know they should let you rest. 

The other man is quick to bring their lips together, letting both of them taste your sweet release as their mouths collide in a sloppy kiss.

You feel on edge as you lay there completely bare, your cunt pulsing as the cold air offers a stark contrast to the fire under your skin. You swallow when you finally feel a hand on your throat and a knife moving down the valley of your breasts.

“You tell anyone, and we’ll gut you. You got that, sweet girl?” you nod quickly, holding your breath.

“Promise, I won’t.” you babble, mind reeling and confused. 

The blindfold and restraints are yanked off of you, but not before two gentle kisses are placed on your lips. While one is sweeter, almost loving, the other is rough, and almost desperate, and you know that both men have just kissed you.

You open your eyes quickly, but you’re met with pitch black. They’ve obviously unplugged the little light you keep in your hallway, as it gave you just enough light to see them when you first woke up. Either way, you’re sure that seeing them would do you no good, and your legs are so weak that you can’t even begin to think about getting out of bed.

You fall asleep after a while, unsure of how to feel, and the next morning when you wake up, you’re not even sure that it happened.

Your head is pounding as you sit up, and as you look around your room. Everything is in place. The only thing that makes you think it could be real is the mess between your legs, but even then, it could’ve been a dream that made you very excited. 

You continue on with your day, getting ready for work, and thinking deeply about it. You know that real or not, you can’t tell anyone. On one hand, if it was real, they’d “gut you.” And you’re sure they’d keep that promise. But on the other hand, if it wasn’t, you never think you’d live down telling anyone that you had a sex dream about the two masked men terrorizing LA.

You’re so emotional about everything from the last 24 hours that you convince yourself that you made it up. No need to be afraid, you tell yourself, it was just a dream, right?

The words from Grace are still in the back of your mind, anyway. If they were going to do this to someone, why you?

They watch you through a screen for most of the day, thankful that they have the day off and can spend the day taking care of their sweet girl.

They want to make sure you’re not too shaken up. You clearly enjoyed their touch, but they want to make sure that you’re not scared beyond return. They know they threatened you; they had to. But they’d never actually hurt you. 

They’re pleased when you continue your day like normal, making no attempt to reach out to anyone. They think at this point, it may be easier to isolate you, just a little. Without anyone else, you’ll cling to them, and they can assure you that you’re not crazy. You’re gorgeous, and sweet, and smart, and if they get you all to themselves, they know you’ll realize how nice their attention is.

You’ll accept the protection that they’re giving you. The stability. They dream of the day when you know everything they’ve done, and like it. Maybe you’d even join them; telling them about who wronged you and beg them to do something about it.

They don’t think you’d ever actually take part in it; you’re far too sweet for it, but that’s okay. They’re more than willing to do all the work. Just for you.

next chapter

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[lewanarta]

Andrzej Stękała for Onet: "I would like to ask what Damian and I did to the president that he denied us basic rights, such simple safety." In an interview with Dawid Dudko, the Polish ski jumping medallist talks about the grief over his partner: "There are images of Damian's death that are stuck in my mind. There was no chance to save him."

Translation of the interview under the cut.

Dawid Dudko: Damian would like this interview?

Andrzej Stękała: I'm sure he would be sitting here next to me right now and together we would tell you about the eight years of our relationship and our plans to spend the rest of our lives together. For me we are still together, only Damian is no longer here, as if someone took him away from me.

Do you still cry a lot?

I try not to cry and look forward, go to trainings, meet people. People in general make me able to pull myself together somehow. The worst thing is when I'm left alone, then it's hard to bear it all, it gets really hard, so unbearable.

I guess it's good to let yourself cry, but it's also good to remember that the other person would like to see you happy, however difficult it is right now.

My loved ones tell me that they would like to see such a happy Andrzej, smiling like before. But right now I can't honestly be happy about anything. I would like to finish our house that Damian and I built together, I know he would like that.

After you started a relationship, you wanted to quit sports.

Well yes, I thought: what do you mean, a gay professional athlete! I imagined that if people found out, I'd be cancelled. I decided that if I must choose between love and work, the choice is obvious for me. It was thanks to Damian that I realised that if I wanted there to be a place for gay people in sport, I should do something myself.

And that something shouldn't be running away.

I think everyone wants to share their happiness with others, not hide your phone from your teammates in the locker room while your boyfriend texts you. That's how I behaved in the beginning, hiding my phone, constantly glancing behind me to see if maybe someone was looking and about to ask me something and I'd have to lie. I would go to training camps and hide. Separation from Damian was one thing, but even worse was the whole thing of hiding him from the world, as if I was going to do something bad with this love of mine to someone.

Were there fictional girlfriends?

I had a lot of female friends, I always enjoyed the company of girls, I just somehow never was drawn to them in the sense that I was drawn to colleagues. One day, around the time of primary school, I asked my mum if I could bring a girl home. I tried something with the girls, but of course nothing came out of it, because it couldn't come out.

It is said that mothers generally feel all this.

Mine felt it too. It was her I told first. We had a long conversation, she explained that she supported me, but that she wouldn't want anyone to hurt me when there is still a lot of homophobia around. She's a strong woman, she's been through a lot, I admire her. You have no idea how much time I spent doing this kind of assessment in my head, who I could possibly tell at the beginning, who wouldn't reject me and think horrible things about me, or would not call me names at all…

I have a very good idea.

Oh yeah, you know what I'm talking about.

Who was the first person you told at work?

My coach. He hugged me, told me it didn't change anything and that I was a f***ing awesome person.

And you got a big weight off your back.

How much can you live like that, purposely getting up early so no one gets suspicious that you live with the other guy? Because I told people I was living at my family home, and I was already with Damian at the time and we were renting a flat together.

And then you made a public coming out.

With that support from people close to me, not only family but also the guys I train with, it's been easier. My mates know that just because I'm gay doesn't mean you have to bit your tongue in front of me or not tell any jokes because it's not appropriate.

Because you have support and acceptance from them.

Well, I am very grateful to them for such openness. They don't allow themselves to be manoeuvred into political games.

What do you mean by political games?

You watch the news with your family, that family loves you, supports you, accepts you, and from the TV they hear that you are an ideology and a threat to the family. Our president denied the humanity of me too and the love of my life. It is known that many politicians play with homophobia, but this is the president of our country. And yet it was also the ‘scary’ gay man who was his source of national pride, shaking his hand.

Today, would you also shake hands with a president who threatened the nation with LGBT+ people?

I think I would. But I don't know if I would accept an individual state decoration from him, since who I am goes against his views. Today I would certainly like to talk to him, like a human being to human being. Because those few years ago, when he congratulated us on the team World Cup in Zakopane, the conditions for such a conversation were not there. And I was still sitting in the closet.

So what would you like to say to the president today?

I would like to ask what Damian and I did to the president that he denied us our basic rights, such simple safety. I would ask where the problem lies. Why the hatred? Mr President, you have a wife, your loved one. I also had a loved one, but officially we were strangers to each other. That really hurts.

And how do you feel this formal strangeness on a daily basis? Strangeness, let's be more precise, enforced by the lack of civil unions in Poland, the possibility of formalising the shared lives of two, adult, loving people.

There are images from Damian's death that have stuck in my mind. Certainly that moment when I found him at home, lying on the floor, and I tried to save him. But also the situation with the rescue helicopter, which I was afraid they wouldn't let me into, because I didn't formally have any rights to Damian. The doctors with everything headed to his mum.

Did you finally get into that helicopter?

Of course Damian's mum gave her consent, but it was no longer needed. There was no chance to save him.

Will you tell us what happened?

He suffered a heart attack. A few hours earlier we were still talking to each other, as if nothing was going to happen. Only in the morning, when I left for training, he was still asleep, so I didn't wake him up. I knew that when he got up he would make breakfast for the people who were building our house… Sorry, Dawid, it's still difficult to talk about it.

For me, the challenge in this conversation is not to cry myself. Thank you, Andrzej, for talking about all this publicly despite the difficulties. Because grief in LGBT+ relationships is still an almost absent topic in our country.

After all, we really don't want special treatment. It's just about what is due to adult, tax-paying, honest people. My coming out is also a reminder of this.

With it you also break with stereotypes. In the general awareness, an LGBT+ person is associated with the artistic world rather than the sporting world.

It's not worth hiding. Nothing bad happened to me at work when people found out who I was, I didn't experience anything that I could call homophobia in sport. In everyday life there are some offensive messages or comments. But should I care about someone who insults me anonymously from a fictitious account? You know, I think our national openness is much better than, for example, some politicians claim.

According to surveys, Poles are ready for civil unions more than some politicians are convinced. 'The LGBT community cannot expect me to force it or deal with their issues'. - Law and Justice presidential candidate Karol Nawrocki recently stressed.

It makes me want to cry when I hear such words.

We are talking during the Easter season. Did you celebrate this time with Damian somehow?

Yes, we were believers. I believe in God, I'm a Catholic, although it's getting harder and harder when you look at the Church. I go to church sometimes, but much more rarely than I used to. I try not to listen to sermons, because from the altar they can say really nasty things. I go for prayer. Damian and I used to go together.

Did you want to get married?

Damian proposed to me. See, I'm wearing a ring on my finger. We were waiting that maybe something in our country would change one day, we hoped we would live to see better times. We didn't want to go abroad and get married there, when in Poland such a wedding doesn't matter. As for the holidays, I don't generally associate them with the best things. Last Christmas we cried, had Christmas dinner and cried with my mum that Damian was gone.

When you acknowledge how difficult it is to maintain a relationship with the Church today, I am reminded of the words of Paweł Dobrowolski, the current director of Olszyn Jaracz Theatre, also a gay believer, who said in our interview: a Catholic also has his limits.

You could say that today's Church is testing our patience.

Damian had a Catholic funeral?

Yes, as a man of faith he would have wanted such a funeral. He was bid farewell by a good priest, because there are still such priests, after all. I assume that the priest knew very well that Damian and I were more than just friends. He kept looking at me during the funeral.

You could have said goodbye to your loved one. Many LGBT+ people in the current legal situation are sometimes deprived of this opportunity at all, they cannot go to the funeral of their partners, they are forbidden to do so by their formal family.

After my coming out, I got words of support from world-class ski jumping stars like Karl Geiger and Martin Schmitt. They said it could be easier for many people in Poland thanks to me. That's what I think about it too and that's why I'm sharing my lifetime loss with people now.

What are your plans, Andrzej?

I simply have to learn to live again, I just don't know how yet.

[poppitron360]

Okay so a lot of you seemed interested in my fic about the children of Percabeth, Valgrace and Solangelo going on a classic demigod quest, so here is the next character I want to introduce you to:

Meet Olympia Jackson-Chase!

I definitely have the most lore for her so this might be the longest rant

The daughter of Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase

She’s the oldest of the Next-Gen Trio, as Percy and Annabeth were one of the first Greek demigod couples to have kids. She’s also been at Camp the longest.

She has two siblings, Tyler (9) and Kiera “Kiki” (7) but they stay back at camp while she’s on the quest.

She’s been living under the shadow of Percy and Annabeth’s fame her whole life, and grown up with children at camp dramatically telling stories about the Battle of Manhattan while she just sits there wondering why it’s so glorified. The other two experience that too, but she’s the most bothered by it.

“Percy Jackson defeated Kronos” “Percy Jackson keeps telling me to tidy my room”

Because of this, she kind of has a begrudging relationship with the rest of the Athena and Poseidon Cabin, and mostly keeps to herself aside from hanging out Isabella and Fin. Still, when the time comes to asking them to take care of her siblings when she goes on the quest, she would trust them completely.

I wrote a fic about her aaaaages ago- it was one of the first fics I’ve ever published on tumblr- I never finished it, it’s not canon to this and I’m probably gonna steal quite a lot of it for this fic. If you’ve read it no you haven’t this totally the first time you’re reading about her shh.

She’s homeschooled. It makes the most sense in terms of keeping her and her siblings safe from monsters and also allowing her to get training from her parents. Also, demigods just don’t do well in public education. I imagine Percy is a stay-at-home dad (he’s a part-time surfing coach in the summer while the kids are at Camp) while Annabeth is making the big bucks at the architecture firm.

I personally think that studying Marine Biology is way more her thing than Percy’s. It combines her dad’s love of the ocean with her mom’s academic prowess. Sometimes she just wants to sink to the bottom of the Mariana Trench and study the fish and not talk to anyone. (Don’t we all).

Her main weapon is a Trident- a gift from Poseidon- that stays fork-sized most of the time but grows into full size when you get it wet. She can also call it back to her hand like Mjolnir in the Thor movies (or like a Loyalty Trident in Minecraft) so it works at both close-range and long-range.

She’s also the most adept fighter at Camp Half-Blood and is SCARY powerful. She can be cold and calculating and strategical, ruthless like the ocean. She’s also inherited both Percy’s and Annabeth’s leadership skills, so often is the one to take charge in sticky situations.

She is Aro/Ace, which is fine because she’s friends with two bisexuals who are attracted to enough genders for them all.

Her birth symbolised the end of the feud between Poseidon and Athena, which is why she has one grey eye and one green one.

She’s also about 6ft tall.

She got her name bc she was born on Olympus (some shenanigans happened where all the routes to the hospitals were blocked by monsters and Annabeth still had her pass to Olympus from when she was re-designing it, so they decided to have the baby there)

Her middle name is “Grace”, mostly left over from an old fic where I wasn’t sure if I was gonna include Jason’s death or not (he doesn’t die in this one). But still, neither Thalia nor Jason use that name anymore, and it’s also bc Apollo helped deliver her (Artemis showed him how to do it) and he suggested a rhyming name “Olympia Grace Jackson-Chase”.

She has ADHD

Grover is her godfather and she gets on well with his and Juniper’s kid (yet to be named)

She bought Finley a Blåhaj from IKEA for his birthday (and he takes it with him on the quest)

She dies the tips of her hair blonde to be like her mom, and so her and Finley often dye their hair together.

I haven’t figured out how to include it in the fic yet, but her and Finley do have a talk about how their parents are both Tartarus survivors.

She’s kinda used to being the cold, hard leader in most cases, but can be a soft girly girl with Isabella.

Isabella is also the only person who can match her equally at chess and other strategy games.

She’s also the only one who knows that both Finley and Isabella have a crush on each other, and is BEGGING to end the pining already.

Asks and comments are appreciated! It really helps motivate me to write more. Also, what should her fatal flaw be? I’d love to hear suggestions because I’m honestly stumped.

The loredump for Isabella might take a while because she’s the one I know least about and what I do know might change.

@frayna-of-the-hollow @carated1317 @the-official-failure @lavenderfairiez @twomanyfandomshelp @frayna-of-the-hollow @carated1317 @the-official-failure @lavenderfairiez @twomanyfandomshelp @demigod-shenanigans @m-for-now @finleyforevermore @puzzled-pegasus @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @inky-void @deciduowl @day-draws

[marjorieswrld]

Solo Trip (A Jude Bellingham Imagine)

Jude Bellingham x Mexican!femreader

It's specifically a Mexican reader but there's cute Jude moments on here I think everyone should have a read at :)

Part 2

contains: social media au & text messages!

wc: 6,571 (in total of pt. 1 & 2)

summary: Y/N goes away on a trip to Mexico much to Jude's dismay!

includes: suggestive content and sexting!

~

I don't see much love for us Mexican and Brown girlies on here so I must deliver 🫡 I honestly had SO much fun writing and creating this, I hope you all enjoy it! I really connected to this post and poured out all my love and devotion to it!

~

“Babe, I think I want to go on a trip,” I blurted out, as Jude and I both chilled on the living room couch. 

Jude was laying down beside me, as I sat comfortably. He looked up from his phone, locking his eyes with mine. His feet softly grazing my thigh. 

“Yeah? Where should we go?” He asked sweetly, curious as to our next trip. 

“Well, I meant me.” I clarified. 

“What?” He baffled, his eyebrows scrunching together, now sitting up. 

I turned over, holding in my laughter at his reaction.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, closing the gap between us on the coach. 

“You’re so cute when you’re confused,” I smiled, letting out a giggle, as I traced his cheek with my hand. 

His big brown eyes  bore into mine as they waited for an answer. 

“There’s going to be a festival in Mexico to start off the spring season. It’s a pretty big deal and my cousins from over there were inviting me to go,” I explained, in hopes that he’d be on board with the idea. 

“Oh.” He replies, scooting back leaving some space between us. 

I frown at the lost touch of his presence and his dull bland response. 

He clears his throat and contemplates whether or not he should go back on his phone as he processes his girlfriend’s words. 

“Jude?” I say, moving closer to him, placing my hand under his knee. Softly roaming around his skin. 

His eyes flicker back over to me. 

He lets out a sigh and his head falls back. 

I stopped my roaming hand that was now on his broad thigh.  

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask softly, looking at his head that was laying on the far end of the couch. 

I grab ahold of his soft hand with mine and place them against my lips. Peppering small kisses on them. 

Butterflies erupted in Jude’s stomach from the continuous touch of his girlfriend and her loving low voice. 

“No, nothing’s wrong baby,” He finally voices, restablishing our eye contact. 

“Then what is it?” I caringly ask. 

Jude melts at Y/N’s  puppy dog eyes which she probably doesn’t even know she has. 

“It’s nothing.” He reiterates. 

“Jude! Come on,” I give him a knowing look. 

Jude grumbles and lets out an annoyed  laugh knowing he can’t fool his girl. 

I raised a brow at him, ready for him to fess up. 

Jude wasn’t the type to say “no” to his girlfriend. He wasn’t controlling in a toxic way nor did he ever stop her from doing something she wanted to. 

Y/N wasn’t asking for Jude’s permission, she never felt that way so she knew that wasn’t it. 

“I don’t know. I just feel weird because that’s a whole different part of your life that I don’t know about. You’ve mentioned your trips to Mexico before but you’ve never been since we’ve started dating,” He slowly confessed. 

I nodded understandingly. 

“Yeah babe, I know.” 

Jude was glad Y/N understood. 

“That’s exactly why my cousins are begging me to go. It’s always so fun when we all get together and it’s been forever  since we’ve last seen each other,” I explain. 

Of course Jude has met Y/N’s family like her uncles, aunts, cousins, grand-parents all family members that lived in the same country as them. But never her extended family that far out, so he was apprehensive about it. 

Of course it was her family, but it had him on edge. 

“Well are your parents going or y/b/n &  y/s/n?” He asked. 

I shook my head. “Nope, just me. But it’s okay Jude. I’ve been there before, trust me, it’s like my second home. You don’t have to worry.” I tried to console, but really it just irked him. 

“I don’t really know. I’d just feel more comfortable if your parents or siblings were there,” He shrugged. 

I sighed. 

“Well, what is it about me going that’s got you all worked up?” I inquired. 

“Well for starters what are you going to be doing there? Are you just going to be there with cousins or with other people? Also, where are you going to be staying?” He eagerly revealed. 

“Well it’s a small rancho and the festival is going to be in the pueblo. So-” I was saying, trying to respond to his questions before he cut me off. 

“I don’t know those terms,” He brattily exclaims. He’s sitting with his legs sprawled out on the coach as his upper body laid back on the arm rest. 

His tone hit a nerve. I breathed in, trying to be as patient as I could.

“Well you could ask nicely about it instead of interrupting me,” I scolded. 

He stayed silent, knowing he could’ve been better, but kept his poker face on. 

I very visibly rolled my eyes at him before continuing. 

“Pueblo is the main town, but it’s small so everyone knows each other. Rancho is where most of the people reside and have their homes. There are many different ranchos all around. Some of them are bigger than others,” I try to explain. 

I look straight at him and he barely gives a nod. 

“Can I continue what I was saying now?” I pettily asked him, now that I was done explaining terms to him. 

“Please, go on,” He insists, almost too nicely. 

I let out an annoyed hum before continuing. 

“The festival is going to be in the Pueblo on the weekend. There’s going to be bailes, which means dances before you interrupt again, leading up to the weekend and the day of. There’s going to be live bands everywhere and cabalgatas, which are trails of people on horses.” I describe. 

“So you’re going to be there for the weekend?” Jude asks, thinking to himself: not too bad. 

“No, for a week,” I responded. 

“A week?!” He yells, his thick accent coming through, straightening himself in his seat again. 

“Yes, a week, Jude!” I sternly repeat, sitting across from him. 

He crosses his arms like a baby. I almost wanted to let out a cackle. 

“For what? Your festival is going to be on the weekend. Why would you possibly need to be there for so long?” He beckons sassily.

“Hmm, I don’t know Jude.” I question aloud to myself. “Maybe to visit my grandparents and spend some quality time with them. Or also hmm, let me think. The cousins I’m going to be spending my time with, let me just party with them and dip the next day. No! I’m going to spend time with the family that I don’t get to see often,” I exclaim, getting frustrated with the way he’s acting. 

“So you’re going to be partying in Mexico?” He asks in a serious tone. 

“Are you being serious? Is that all you got from what I just said?” I huffed, spreading my legs, not daring to touch his that were mere centimeters away from mine. 

Jude lifts his brow, waiting for my response. 

“Of course I’m going to be partying Jude! That’s the point of the festival, it’s in celebration of spring,” I exasperated.  

“That’s a load of crap. What do you mean in celebration of spring?” He scoffs. 

“It’s tradition. It’s on the weekend of Easter so it’s an important weekend,” I flatly say. 

Jude could tell that Y/N was getting angry. He doesn’t blame her though, he was acting like a big baby. She never acted the way he was acting right now when he had to travel all the time or with his busy schedule. 

“You never answered my other questions,” Jude lets out, in a genuine tone this time. 

“Well I could’ve since the beginning if you would’ve just let me,” I state, slightly looking away from him. 

He wanted to blurt out an apology but didn’t. 

I started, “I’m staying at my grandparents' home, where my (choose parent) grew up. My aunts and uncles live nearby too, as well as my cousins. At the festival I’m going to be with my cousins and their friends. Which I’ve befriended in the past. Like I said, it's a small town so everyone knows each other.” 

“Guy friends?” Jude inquires, with a look. 

“Jude, is this what this is about?” I rolled my eyes.

“Partly yes. I just don’t know your history over there.  Is there something I should know about or be worried about?” He remarks. 

“Jude are you being serious?” I hissed. 

“Very!” He exclaims loudly, swinging his arms in motion. 

“I should’ve known,” I grunt, rolling my eyes. 

I get off of the couch, ready to walk away. Steam blows out of my ears as I storm past him. 

Jude sits up and pulls me back before I was out of his reach, landing me on his lap. 

“I just don’t want a Mexican guy trying to win over your heart,” He whispers into my neck. My back pressed against his chest. 

“You’re annoying,” I murmur, facing away from him. 

Jude only tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Nuzzling himself into my shoulder. 

I try to pull away from him but he just elongates his hold. 

I roll my eyes at him, sitting still in his embrace, knowing he can feel my stiffness against his touch.

“Just because of this I’m going to play along with all the guys trying to get my attention.” I proclaim. 

Jude unknowingly loosens his grip at the words. 

“And trust me when I say there’s a whole lot of them.” I taunt, getting up from his now ungripped hold. 

I walk away from him and go into our room. 

I grab my laptop and start looking for upcoming flights. 

@yourusername posted a story 

Jude was giving Y/N her space knowing that’s what she needed right now. 

He was mindlessly scrolling on twitter, trying to get his mind off things when something caught his eye. 

Immediately eyeing the room Y/N was in. 

He quickly went on Y/N’s instagram account not believing his eyes. 

He could give less fucks about her using his card. He didn’t actually believe that she bought a ticket. 

Sure he knew she was going regardless, but they just had an argument about it. 

Jude barged into their room, Y/N was on her phone, laying in bed, acting as if Jude didn’t just abruptly enter their bedroom. 

“Did you just buy a ticket?” Jude presses in shock. 

I hum in response.

See I had it planned all along once I had entered the room. 

I posted the laptop, which showed me browsing through flights and Jude’s credit card. That clearly revealed his name, blocking out his numbers. 

Once I snapped a photo with Jude’s card, I bought the plane ticket with my own banking account. Just using Jude’s card for the photo. But he doesn’t know that. 

I knew the story was going to gain a lot of traction and would somehow land on Jude’s socials.

 Which it quickly did because he’s in the room now, a couple minutes after my post. 

“Did you actually Y/N?” He asked, and I could tell he was asking seriously. 

I looked up at him. 

“Yes. I did.” I reply nonchalantly. 

“Are you being serious right now?” He asks, still in question. 

“Yes Jude, how many times do I have to repeat myself?!” I huff. 

“Oh okay, now” He nods . “I see how we’re doing this.” He says angrily. Inching closer to the bed where I laid. 

“Yeah, that’s how we’re doing it because when I tried talking to you about it you just couldn’t hear me out!” I say, finally yelling out. After trying to stay calm. 

“You’re right and I’m sorry,” He apologies, standing right by me. “I should’ve been more open. I just got jealous knowing that there’s going to be guys there that are going to want you. I mean come on, you know that. Look at you!” He exclaims. “Plus they’ve known you way before I did. It just makes me feel some type of way.” He frowns. 

I blush at his remark. 

“I’m sure there’s guys who are waiting for your arrival and it boils my blood because you’re mine, Y/N!” Jude blurts out. 

I sit up and reach up to his tall figure, placing my arm around Jude’s shoulder. He leans down at my touch as his eyes melt into mine. 

I pull his face down upon mine and lean into him. Fluttering my eyes closed and pressing my lips against his. He softly let his lips flow with mine. 

He let himself fall onto the bed, on top of me. 

“You could’ve led with that,” I say, pulling apart from his lips as I wrap my arms around his upper back. 

“I know. I’m such an idiot!” Jude proclaims as he falls deeper into my arms. 

His lips pressed against my cheek. 

“You own my heart Jude. There’s no one I would rather be with!” I whisper, placing my hands on his cheeks and pressing his lips on mine. 

He let himself fall into our kiss. 

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, passionately deepening our kiss. 

Jude’s hand roams through my hair that’s sprawled out on the sheets. The other is placed on my face, caressing my cheeks with his soft fingers. 

“I love you Jude!” I murmured in between our kisses. “And just because there’s guys who want me, they don’t matter because I want you!” I emphasize, pressing my nose on his. 

“Okay, thank you.” Jude nods, knowing he has nothing to worry about, pecking my lips. 

~

@y/n reposted a tiktok

(translation: you don’t need therapy, you need to go to jerez, zacatecas for Saturday of Glory {name of festival} )

Comments under tiktok: 

@.judes.lover is this where y/n was referring to on her insta story? 

@.soccerwag not y/n reposting this tiktok!!!

@.bellingol I’d actually love to see y/n in this environment we all know she’s got it in her

@.vini&judenum1fan I knew she was mexican but not this mexican (in a good way) love her even more now!

@.madridster I just need to know what jude thinks bc we all know jude has no clue what’s going on (coming from a mexican girly) 

@.mrs.bellingham Love that jude is with a cultured girl 

@.y/nsupporter I didn’t know I needed jude to be with a Mexican until now!!!

@.maridfanatic Not all the comments being about jude and y/n

@.guy-attending-the-event It’s going to be my mission finding y/n and asking her to dance. I know for a fact she hasn’t danced to banda since dating Jude

~

A couple of days have gone by since Y/N bought her ticket to Mexico and her trip was coming up soon. 

Jude was scrolling through tiktok when he came across a video of someone speaking of Y/N’s upcoming trip. 

Jude and Y/N were used to people making posts about them so it didn’t come as a surprise to Jude. Especially since it was made known that Y/N was going on a trip, due to the story post and tiktok repost. 

The video played out of a girl speaking, “Guys, look at what I just found! So we all know Y/N reposted this video on tiktok where you can clearly see crowds of people in Mexico.” The tiktok started and began playing the video Y/N reposted. “You can see the people in the video wearing typical Mexican apparel such as the tejanas (cowboy hats) which most of them are wearing.” The girl who posted the video said. 

“So, I got curious as to what all these people were doing just standing there and what the big deal is because that video got 30,000 likes. I searched up the place and the festival and if Y/N really is going there. Look at what she’s going to be doing.” The girl closed off the statement before playing a video she found. 

Jude watched the video that was played. 

Video: 

Jude was pretty surprised at how everyone partied at this festival based on the video. He didn’t know it was that intense and hard. But he trusted Y/N to take care of herself, he knew she was responsible and wouldn’t put herself in a situation he needed to worry about. But of course he still would. 

Jude opened up the comments of the tiktok. 

Comments: 

@.user.name Dude I swear jude better be careful y/n’s going to have the time of her life!!

@.judextrent Is jude going too or just y/n cause i can’t picture jude there 

@.amexicangirl’saccount y/n is better than me cause i would fall to my knees at the sight of a tall handsome charro

The last comment caught Jude’s attention and saw that that comment had a lot of likes and replies. 

He pressed view replies under that comment. 

@.amexicangirlsaccount y/n is better than me cause i would fall to my knees at the sight of a tall handsome charro

@.user<3 Same!! It has to be their attire because girllll 

@.user1My man is a charro and whenever he puts on his fits i remember why i fell for him all over again and whenever we dance and he has charro outfit it’s EVERYTHING 

@.girlsname You’re lucky that’s my dream! 

Jude didn’t even realize Y/N was out of the shower and in the room, he was so invested in these last comments. 

Y/N’s POV:

I had just walked into the room after my shower, to find Jude deep in his phone. 

The device being too close to his face, brows interlinked, and his skin perplexed. 

“Are you okay?” I asked concerned. 

He looked up from his phone, looking at me petrified. 

“How’d you get in here?” He asked, puzzled. I guess he realized how his question sounded as I furrowed my brows. 

“I mean, sorry, I just didn’t see you enter,” He fumbled his words. 

“Ok?” I say, confused. 

I sat on my vanity, my back facing Jude. 

I applied moisturizer on my face. Through the mirror I saw Jude turning off his phone and placing it on the bed beside him. 

He seemed like he was pondering. 

As I was grabbing my hair brush, I heard Jude ask, “Baby, what is a charro?” from behind me. 

I turned around in my seat, baffled by his random question, gaping at him. 

I didn’t even know how to approach his question. Do I ask where he heard the word from or just answer his thought? 

“I just watched this video of a girl speaking about your trip and where you’d be going. I was reading the comments and they mentioned it. I was just curious as to what that meant,” He tried playing it off smoothly. 

I couldn’t help but laugh at the calmness of his voice, knowing he was eager to know the answer. 

I grabbed the brush and went to sit next to him in bed. 

He looked at me ready for my response. 

I couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re so funny Jude, I swear.” I say as my smile got bigger. 

“Look here’s the video,” He said, handing me his phone. 

I watched as the girl depicted the video I reposted and went onto show the video she found of the festival. 

“Not them doing research on where I’m going,” I smiled, interested in the video. 

“Literally, I didn’t even think of doing that.” He spoke, raising his brow. 

I chuckled. 

“You know how passionate they are,” I smile. 

“You don’t gotta tell me twice!” He mumbled, making me giggle. “I’m just glad they love you because I wouldn’t be able to stand it if they didn’t.” He says turning over to press his lips on mine. Melting at his soft peck. 

“So, what about charros?” I ask, going back to the original question. 

“Yeah, what are they?” He asked inquisitively. 

“They’re guys who are dressed in a certain attire, who practice a certain horseback lifestyle. It’s more of like a hobby but some take it more seriously than others. They do tricks on horses, It’s pretty cool!” I explained. 

Jude intakes the information and nods. 

“Why?” I ask, noticing his serious intake to it. “What were the comments?” Bringing up the comments he mentioned earlier. 

Jude pulled up the comments and showed them to me. 

“Are you serious, Jude?” I laugh looking at the comments, not taking him seriously. 

“What?” He asked with a shrug. “I was just curious!”

“Okay, buddy,” I hum, knowing his slight jealous and possessive tendencies. 

“Yeah, yeah.” He says, looking away. 

I smile at him, leaning closer to him kissing his jaw. 

“I have Jude Bellingham, I don’t need a charro,” I whisper seductively, pressing a kiss underneath his ear. 

My hand was placed on the other side of his face, lightly scratching his sideburns. 

Jude relaxed against my touch but I couldn’t let him down that easily. 

“Plus I already had a charro,” I hum with a smirk. 

He immediately tenses under my touch and turns around to face me, pushing me away from him. 

I start dying of laughter falling back onto the bed. 

“I’m kidding!” I say as the tears start brimming in my eyes, from my constant laughter. 

“I hate you, you know that?” He says annoyed, getting off the bed. 

I sit up and he starts walking away.

I get up on the bed and jump on his back, wrapping my legs around his waist. 

I put my arms around his neck but he doesn’t hold me up, ignoring my touch.

“You don’t hate me, you love me!” I laugh as I place my head on his shoulder. 

“No.” He murmurs as he walks out the room as if I wasn’t on him. 

I started messing around with him, my hand grabbing onto his chin and squishing it as I moved his face around.

We got to the living room and he threw me on the couch. 

I laugh my butt off as he just stands over my body tally. 

“You’re just so fun to rattle up baby and it doesn’t help that you make it so easy!” I laugh. 

“Whatever!” He mutters, turning around and walking away. 

I slap his ass that’s in perfect view from my position on the couch, knowing it’ll get him more mad.. 

“I love you Judey!” I loudly exclaim as he ignores me, continuing to walk away. 

~

The next weekend came around and I was packing my luggage. 

Jude was watching me from the bed. 

“I’m going to miss you while you’re gone baby!” Jude frowned from the bed. 

I turned away from my clothes to his whining, smiling. 

“Maybe I should go away more often so you can pay me with all this love!” I teased. 

I continued folding my clothes and packing it all away. 

“I can’t wait to get all these guy’s attention too!” I say getting up from where the luggage was placed. 

I could feel Jude’s glare on me. 

I tried holding in my smile as I looked over at him. 

He was death glaring me. 

“You know you think you’d be used to it by now,” I smile at him. 

“No, Y/N. Why would I get used to you saying you’re waiting for other guys' attention?” He grimaced. 

“Because you know it’s a joke!” I laugh. 

“Still don’t see me laughing,” He says with the most serious tone ever.

I chuckled at him. “Ok babe,” I say dismissing him. 

He stays silent. 

“It’s okay babe. Don’t worry I’ll spray our pillows with my perfume, so you can sniff it when you miss me,” I continue my teasing . 

“I’m keeping my favorite panties of yours!” He proclaims. 

“For what?” I say taken aback. 

“Don’t worry about it,” He smirks. 

“You’re gross!” I shudder in thought. 

Once I finished packing we both got ready for our dinner. 

“Just know I’m fucking you good before you leave. Reminding you of what’s waiting for you when you come back!” Jude exclaims from behind me, pressing his dick against my ass before walking out the door. 

“Have you bent over in this little dress after our reservation,” Jude says, bending me over from behind. 

“Jude!” I yell out, smacking his chest. 

@yourusername posted two new stories 

@judebellingham posted a story

It was now the next day and after a long wonderful night (thanks to Jude 😉) it was time to head to the airport. 

Jude grumbled in bed as I opened my eyes. I removed the bed covers off me ready to get out of bed until Jude pulled me into a little spoon. 

“Do you have to leave?” He mutters in his morning voice from behind. 

I frown at his request. 

“I promise the days will pass by in an instant,” I try to console. I intertwine my hand with his and press kisses on his soft skinned hand. 

He sighs from behind me before placing my hair aside so that he could lay in between my neck. 

I squirm at his touch causing him to giggle, which has me erupting in butterflies because of his beautiful laugh. 

I’m going to miss him more than anything while I’m gone. 

We both lay comfortably in silence and he tightens his grip around my figure. I don’t want him to let go, ever. 

~ 

@yourusername posted 2 new stories 

@yourusername

Liked by judebellingham and 256,376 others 

yourusername first day dump 🇲🇽 glad to be back ❣️

view all comments 

com1 viva mexico!!

com 2 ahhh she looks like a natural with the horse! that smile ☺️

jobebellingham have fun sissy!! ❤️

yourusername thanks jobey! 😘

judebellingham not too much fun….. kidding 👀

denisebellingham don’t listen to him darling! have an amazing time (away from him) 😉

judebellingham what mum? 

yourusername thanks denise and jobe will do 😌

judebellingham I hope you’re having a great first day love 🤍 

yourusername thanks love, I miss you 🫶

com3 that food looks so good! I’m hungry now 🤤

com4 those micheladas look so bomb!!

yourusername we never forget the miches 🍻

com4 bruh I can’t with Jude 😭 🤣

Message between Jude & Y/N

yourusername

Liked by trentarnold66, judebellingham, and 379,581 others

yourusername day ✌🏼

view all comments

com1 not trent in y/ns likes 😭

com2 girl what? I’m sure theyre friends 

com1acc yeah but notice how trent didn’t like her day one dump, considering the first pic of this one

judebellingham woah 🤩 (speaking of the first photo) you’re so hot! Are you single? 

yourusername sorry happily married 💍 

judebellingham damn what a bummer :( hope he’s a good husband 

yourusername the best 🤭

com3 i love how they’re not married but he still plays along with it 😆

com4 fr he’s so sweet 😭

vinijr come back we need jude in his full potential 

yourusername i shall be back soon 🫡

com5 i swear i’m no better than a man 🫣

com6 bellingham is a lucky man bc shes fine af 

com7 My respects to jude cause god dayum

Messages between Y/N & Jude

yourusername

liked by judebellingham, vinijr, and 311,405 others

yourusername we out tonight 👢day three 🎉 

view all comments

yourcousin bailes no son los mismos sin ti ✨ feliz que estés devuelta (dances aren’t the same without you ✨ glad you’re back) 

yourusername encantada de estar de vuelta 🤪 (glad to be back 🤪)

you2ndcousin y puro polvadero 😁 (translation: and pure dust) (meaning: that they were dancing so much that their boots caused dust to arise around them from the ground) 

yourusername claro 😌 (of course 😌)

com1 i saw her at the baile and lemme tell you girl can dance

judebellingham your outfit is so cute, so are you 😉 

yourusername you’re cuter though 🥰

judebelligham IMPOSSIBLE

judebellingham have fun! cause when you’re home you’re not leaving my arms 

yourusername sounds like a plan ☺️

com2 damn i wish i was y/n 😣

com3 same

Messages between Y/N and Jude

y/nusername

Liked by judebellingham, pesopluma, 290,958

y/nusername we’re chilling on our fourth day. a quick trip to the pueblo, horseback ride to el oxxo, but mostly basking in those rancho days 🌄

view all comments

pesopluma es todo 🇲🇽 (that’s everything 🇲🇽)

liked by y/nusername

com1 ariana what are you doing here?

com2 oof jude come get yo girl before she gets rizzed up by peso

com3 not him trying to hit on y/n after nikki 

com4 i mean i don’t blame him but our girl y/n cuffed up for life

com5 dude for real bc jude and her are EVERYTHING if they ever break up love isn’t real i swear

a-rancho-friend vente pa la cancha acá vamos a estar (come to the park we’re going to be here)

yourusername ay vamos!! (we’re going!!)

judebellingham yesss i’ve been awaiting your post they make my day 

yourusername we’re halfway there baby! Four more days and i’ll be back in your sweet arms that i desperately miss 

judebellingham i’m counting the days 🤞🏽

com6 her outfits are always so cute

com7 i love her riding to el oxxo

jobebellingham those tacos look delicious! sneak me some back to england! 🙏🏽

y/nusername come next time and i’ll show you all the great spots ☺️

jobebellingham deal!! 

a-charro-from-mexico cuando sabe andar a caballo 😮‍💨 (when she knows how to be on a horse 😮‍💨)

y/nusername posted two new stories

y/nusername

Liked by yourbff, judebellingham, and 298,475 others

yourusername cabalgatas are always so fun! Day five <3

view all comments

com1 she’s so beautiful i swear

Liked by judebellingham 

yourbff que hermosidad!! 😍 (what a beauty)

yourusername who me or the horse? 😊

yourbff both but def meant you hehe

judebellingham you know you really surprise me more and more everyday and i’m in love 🤩

yourusername i’m glad to hear 🥰

com2 as long as jude doesn’t look like bad bunny riding with kendall 😬

yourusername lol no if jude ever decides to want to ride a horse i’ll make sure he can ride on his own or be well experienced to have me ride with him

com3 i love y/n standing up to these comments

com4 i just don’t think y/n wants her man to be a meme 

com5 y/n missing jude so much she’s hugging the horse pretending it’s jude bc of the height difference 🤫

yourusername bahahahah @judebellingham imma have to start doing this now 

com6 ahh she just replied to your comment!! 

twitter going balístic:

~

Tumblr allows 30 pic per post so go to Part 2!!

taglist: @annab-nana @hoodpankow  @alaynahope14  @jeyramarie  @lemur46 @goldenroutledge @valluvsu @paleprincessturtle @hoelesslyt @drewsephrry @northernstarkey

~

All pics are from Pinterest!

Video was from TikTok!

[goldfades]

i’m sorryyyy but crash out couple is def girl parents 💝 like the “mommy he did it again” has me in tears just thinking about a little girl with a personality IDENTICAL to her mom’s. but she also has the same soft spot for luka that her mom does. i could see her being a total girlie girl and doing makeup on luka but also being a star player. i love them 💝

NOOOO bc you are so right crash out couple is 1000% girl parents. like they were destined to raise a tiny, equally chaotic mini version of reader😭

imagine luka, who grew up in a house full of women, being a total girl dad—like he was made for this. and their daughter?? oh, she is her mother’s child through and through. same attitude, same fire, same tendency to get a little too aggressive in games. but she also has that soft spot for luka that reader does, and it’s so funny bc she’ll be out here mean-mugging kids on the court and then coming home to do a full glam look on her dad

like imagine:

she’s playing in a little rec league, and reader gets a call like, “sooo… your daughter just got a tech.” and reader’s like “oh my god, what did she do” but lowkey she already knows. and luka??? he’s just in the background grinning. like “she’s just like her mama🥹”

their daughter is obsessed with makeup and convinces luka to let her do full beats on him. like this man is sitting on the floor, all 6’7 of him, while his daughter smears glittery pink eyeshadow all over his face. and he sits there, all patient, letting her do whatever bc she’s talking about her day and he’s just listening🥹

reader is trying to be the strict parent but luka folds so fast. like their daughter has him wrapped around her little finger and reader is constantly side-eyeing him like “you cannot say yes to everything she asks” and he’s like “i’m sorry look at her🥺”

their daughter is a full-blown superstar in whatever sport she picks up (bc let’s be real, with these genes?? she’s built for greatness). and luka is in the stands coaching her mid-game while reader is just yelling at the refs😭 the other parents are so sick of them bc it’s a mini luka + reader on the court and the OG luka + reader in the stands

she’s also the biggest daddy’s girl but at the same time, she will argue with luka just to argue bc she’s got reader’s fire. like luka will say something like “you should use your left hand more” and suddenly it’s a debate😭 meanwhile, reader is in the background like “that’s crazy i told you the same thing and you didn’t argue with me”

she grows up thinking it’s normal to sit courtside and talk crazy to players and refs bc she watches her mom do it every summer and her dad do it every winter. she’s like eight years old talking about “ref, open your eyes” and luka is just nodding like “that’s my girl” while reader is like “babe she’s gonna get banned”

they’re such a menace little family but also so full of love and i just know luka is the most proud girl dad to ever exist. like yes his daughter is fighting kids on the court and talking back like her mama but she’s also got his heart and he wouldn’t change a single thing😭💝