#probably on the bus to and from games with his team back in the US

[mr-independent]

you know, its not brought up in fics often but ted is extremely well read. he doesnt brag about it, but hes read everything from f scott fitzgerald's b sides to ayn rand's doorstoppers to the sixteen book Ender series, etc etc etc. Ted reads about as much as we see Beard reading (which. in my head is a trait that was passed on, a new focus to sharpen the mind and keep him out of trouble and his mind off drugs, something Ted offered up as a coping mechanism for when his own dad died, a way to have fun and adventure and escape without ending up in jail like Ted himself had a handful of times before, scaring the bejeezus out of his ma.)

this turned into a mini fic and i lost my train of thought but point is, Ted reads So Much and more people need to pick up on this in fics please and thank you.

[theflyingfeeling]

the love of my entire life

[yamumsyadadd]

Sometimes all you need is a little love

At 5, you were loved. Your mum and dad adored you. Everything was about you and your parents.  They worked hard, and in return you got to fulfil your dream of being a footballer. 

At 8, things started to change. Sundays that were usually filled with church in the morning, and Barcelona games in the afternoon slowly started to disappear. 

Your mum and dad were fighting. She was looking frail, unwell, a shell of herself. He looked angry, distant, with marks on his arms, coming home smelling like cigarettes and flowers. It was a weird smell, it would linger in the air for hours to come. 

Gone were the days when they would both come to your football. It was one or the other, sometimes even none of them. 

At 10, you found her. Hanging. You just sat there, watching her. Eventually going to the neighbours you thought you knew. Turns out they moved out and there was a new family. An older lady, Eli. She let you come inside and called for help while distracting you with cookies and her white fluffy dog. 

From that day, things changed. Your father’s love became less and less. His violence and drinking became more. He had a new girlfriend every other month. Barely lasting the entire calendar month. 

By age 12, La Masia came knocking. A full scholarship was on offer. It was your dream. Something you and your parents had worked hard for, together. Expect now it was just you. Forging your dad’s signature, you dropped the forms back off. Transferring to their academy the week later. 

La Masia was hard. Harder than you expect. Maybe it was because things at home were worse than ever before, your dad lost his job, the random woman continued however now there was random men added into it. Home wasn’t a safe place for you or anyone in that case. 

At 14, things hit an all time low, bruises and marks were becoming harder to hide with your promotion to the Barca B team. They were all so close to each other, hanging out after training, getting food or going shopping, their weekends were all spent together. But not with you. As much as they tried you shielded away from it. School and football were the two things that matter - there was no time for anything else, no time to worry about anything else. 

The closest thing you had to a parent was the lady across the hall, every few days there would be a plate of food at the front door when you arrived home. On Sundays it was a bigger meal, you’d divvy it out so it would last a few extra days. The limited money you did have was given to your dad, you’d keep some of it but it wasn’t enough for the bus fare and food. It was one of the other. 

Every morning you would make the one hour trek from your home in Mollet del Vallès, using that time to do your homework, study plays or rewatch games, sometimes even catching a few more minutes of sleep. Every evening, after training you’d stay and help pack away the equipment, sometime just relishing in the warmth of the facility, the endless hot water, the feeling of safety. 

One night, after missing the last bus, you hid in a supply closet. Knowing there was no way you’d get home that night, you huddled around the spare clothes and clean towels. It oddly was one of the best sleeps you’d had in years. The constant security that would walk around the facility made you feel safe. 

After that initial night, there were many more nights of sleeping at the facility. Was it the best idea? Probably not, but it was the safest, and the warmest. 

15 was when things really changed. At some point, your dad just stopped coming home. He’d be gone for days at a time. This time though, he was gone for almost three weeks. You bloomed in the silence. The apartment was clean, airy, in contrast to the dark, stuffy air that usually resides. 

On Christmas Eve things came to ahead. There wasn’t much food left. A few eggs, some bread and some cereal. No milk, vegetables or anything fresh. Biting the bullet, you made your way across the hall to the older ladies door. She had told you before that if you needed anything, to just knock. So you did, rocking back and forth on your heels, you were shocked when the door swung open and none other than Alexia Putellas, captain of the Barcelona Women’s team, 2 time Ballon D’Or winner, was standing there with a smile on her face. 

“Hola pequeña, are you ok?”

“Oh, um, hola? Is Eli here?” 

“Si, come in.” You stood there for a moment, staring at her, “mami a pequeña is here for you!” Eli, the nice, caring older woman was Alexia Putellas mother. Of course she was. 

“Neña! To what do I owe this visit?” 

“I am very sorry to interrupt and be rude, but I was wondering if you had any milk I could please have? My papi has gone away for a bit and forgot to leave some money.” 

“You’re alone? You’re no older than 16?” A smaller but almost identical person chimed in. 

“Si. I am 15”. A shy nod was all you could muster, the energy you previously had disappeared. 

“Well where did he go? Are you alone for Christmas?” 

“Uh, um a work trip? Si, si, a work trip! He will be back at some point, I’m sure.” It was a lie, a terrible horrible lie and everyone in that room knew. All three older women shared a look. 

“Here is some milk Nena. Do you want to stay for dinner?” 

“No no that’s okay. Thank you for the milk, I will give you money when I get some!” 

“Nonsense dear. It’s just milk.” 

Silently you grabbed the milk and started to walk towards the door, leaving the three women staring at you. Eli’s eyes expressed sadness, Alexia’s were confused, she knew you from somewhere but she couldn’t place it, Alba was bewildered, she remembered being 15 and there was no way in hell that Eli would’ve left her home alone, but especially not over the holiday period. 

“She is a good girl. She studies hard, she’s at La Masia. Always very polite but something is off in the house.” 

Alexia’s head whipped around, “she’s at the academy?” Eli nodded, “how does she get there? it’s a 40 minute drive and she’s not old enough?” 

“I don’t know Alexia, tonight was the most she’s spoken to me since she came asking for the ambulance when her mami died.” 

“That was her?” A nod was all alexia received. For the rest of the night they were all silent, you went to bed with a small amount of food in your stomach. The 8 pieces of French toast were enough to get you through until the farmers market opened on the 26th. 

A dread washed over you the following afternoon when there was a knock at the front door. Opening it slowly, and only half showing your face, Alexia and Alba (you learnt her name after googling Alexia), were standing there. 

“Hola pequeña. Mami asked if you and your papi wanted to join us for dinner?” Alexia voice was firm, almost as if there wasn’t room for you to say no. 

“Um, sure. My papi isn’t back yet, but what time does she want us?” 

“Now-“

“An hour-“ both girls spoke at the same time. Alba wanting to give you time to do whatever you needed, but alexia wanted you father to show himself. Unbeknownst to you, she had reached out to the La Masia staff and a few of the younger girls. 

Vicky and Martina had told her the little information that they knew. You were young, talented and a hard worker. You’d catch the bus to and from training, never really talking to anyone and certainly never hanging out with them. They’d offered to help you with your homework, Vicky realising very quickly that you were both in the same grade despite you being two years younger. Both Vicky and Martina felt that there was something off, never seeing your father or anyone supporting you at games, not even at the international friendly with the under 17s that you’d been called up too. 

“Okay? How about half an hour?” 

“That works. See you soon pequeña!” Alba grabbed her older sisters arm, pulling her away from the door. You slid down the back of yours once it was firmly closed. You needed to think of the perfect lie. Maybe you could say he was too tired, or stuck in traffic. No that wouldn’t work, if he was stuck in traffic they’d wait. The truth wasn’t an option. There’s no way you could just blurt out that you didn’t know where he was. 

The dinner was uncomfortable, the food was delicious but the unasked questions were making a lot of tension. You didn’t miss the way Alba and Eli continued to glance at you, or how their eyes went wide when you asked for more. This definitely cemented that something was wrong. 

The loud clattering of Alexia’s fork and knife, stopped you from shoveling more food in your mouth. 

“This is ridiculous. Pequeña, where is your papi?” 

“Don’t know.” You spoke nonchalantly, putting more food into your mouth. Confused looks where thrown around. Eli’s hand slowly reaching for yours and taking the fork, “sweetheart, what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I don’t know. He could be stuck at work, or in traffic or asleep.” I shrugged. It was a semi decent lie. 

“Does he leave for long periods often?” 

“No. It’s usually just a few days.” 

“Where does he go?” 

To get high, to fuck hookers, to steal, “work trips.” 

Thankfully the subject was dropped as Eli gave you back your fork. It didn’t feel like Christmas, no gifts were exchanged, no decorations or Christmas movies. It felt like a Sunday after church, all that was left was a trip to Camp Nou to watch a game but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever again. 

Eli sent you home when a lot of leftovers, ignoring the comments from her own two daughters that they would’ve liked to have some too. It was enough food for at least a month. You’d eaten plenty at dinner so the need for food tomorrow would be less. 

The following week was a blur. There was only two training sessions and school was off until after the New Year. Your father had yet to make a reappearance and due to the holidays, you were hiding in the house so you wouldn’t have to see any three of the Putellas women and answer questions. 

It worked, for three weeks, until the night you had planned to sleep in the same storage room as usual. Alexia appeared, fresh out of the shower. 

“Pequeña? What are you still doing here? It’s late.” 

“I lost track of time. I was studying.” 

“How are you getting home? Is your papi coming?” 

“No. I’m catching the bus.” You felt guilty lying to her, but it was the best option. No one would get hurt this way. 

“Let me drive you home. It’s late and you really shouldn’t be catching the bus.” 

Before you could argued, she’d grabbed the straps of your bag, dragging it and you along to her car. It was an awkward 40 minutes. Her car was much more comfortable than the bus, warmer and safer. You were still on high alert, especially when she was asking you questions. 

For the past five years you didn’t let anyone get close. It was easier that way. You didn’t have to explain the tiredness that was evident on your face, the random bruises that happened, the obvious weightless from the lack of food. 

From that moment on you silently agreed to keep everyone further way. You had to be more careful, no more roaming the halls after training. No more asking Eli for milk, or bread, or anything. Leaving extra early in the morning or as soon as training ended. No more being vulnerable. 

The day before your 16th birthday was supposed to be a good one. However your father had other plans. You’d been training with the senior team due to some injuries and then needing players, Jona had told you last night he would play you after halftime. A senior debut on your 16th birthday. 

That night you’d come home so incredibly happy only for it to come crashing down when your extremely intoxicated father decided to start a fight over the lack of money. He didn’t stop hitting you for what felt like hours. You weren’t sure if you passed out from the pain or from the exhaustion but you knew the following day it would be hell. 

The house was littered with used needles, smashed and empty bottles, and it smelt of cigarettes and stale booze. Your arms and legs were covered in bruises as well as a shiner on your face. That one would be the hardest to cover. it took an hour and large amount of makeup before you were confident about leaving the house. The bruise was mostly covered. You didn’t think it was that obvious though. The looks you received on the bus, and even as you walked through the halls, didn’t make you question your makeup job. 

True to his word, jona put you on in the 75th minute, subbing Salma off. It was electrifying, a rush you’d never felt before. Then game ended with a win, of course, there was a lot of praise from the older girls. Mario was incredibly impressed and offered to work with you more if you were interested. Something you immediately said yes too. Your bubble was burst when Alexia came over to tell her Eli was there and wanted to see you. 

The moment you were within arms reach of Eli, she could tell something was wrong. So could Alexia’s girlfriend, Olga, who she had just introduced you too. After chatting a bit more, Eli demanded she would take you home, making you hurry to gather your belongings in the locker room, forgoing a shower as you didn’t bring makeup to re-cover the bruise on your face. 

“Olga you need to help her with makeup.” Alba joked before hugging her sister goodbye. Olga and Eli shared a concerned looked. 

“Why is she wearing make up?” 

“Mami she’s 16. Teenagers wear makeup all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.” Eli shook her head, there was something wrong but she didn’t know what or how to ask you. 

“Ale, keep an eye on her yeah?”

“Olga she’s fine. She’s just a teenager.” Olga’s eyes pleaded with her, “si fine. I will watch over her.” 

Two weeks later things came crashing down horribly. You’d been moved into the senior squad officially, that came with perks. More money was the main one. It would only be a few months until you’d officially graduate high school, that meant you could pick up a part time job as well as football. What you didn’t account for was your father. 

When you walked in the door you were greeted with a random lady and a little boy, no older than 3, your father was very quickly shoving things into boxes and taping them up. 

“What’s going on?” Neither of the adults spared a glance at you. 

“I’m leaving. Thea and I are moving to Madrid.” 

“I can’t leave papi! The season is still going and i haven’t finished school yet!” 

“Good thing you weren’t invited then.” The lady scoffed, flipping her son to the other hip. Your eyes were wide. Not believing what you were hearing. 

“Tomorrow, the moving truck will be here. You need to be gone by then.” 

“Wait! Where will I go? You can’t leave me here!” You yelled after them as they left the apartment. No longer caring who heard or who saw. 

“You’re not my problem anymore. I couldn’t care less about what you do or don’t do.” He turned to leave, “you could do the world a favour and hang yourself like your mother did.” With that he was gone. The apartment was mostly empty. 

You found the two biggest bags that you could carry. Filling one with all your football stuff, the other with you clothes, the few jumpers of your mothers that you had left, a sleeping bag and pillow. In your school backpack you packed your laptop and all the school work, plus your important documents (birth certificate, photo IDs, passport.) 

Though you had no idea where you would go, you knew you’d figure it out. What you didn’t account for was Eli. of course she would notice the moving vans, and the lack of you. 

Every second night you’d leave the training facility, set on finding somewhere that was semi safe to sleep. Even though it was the start of February, you knew the beach would be ok. There was enough light to keep you safe, you also had a little knife you stole from your father along time ago. 

The last morning before it all went to shit, you were sitting with your bags, still in your sleeping bag, watching the sunrise. Barcelona was quiet at this time of the morning. A few runners or cyclists around but other than that it was peaceful. 

“Pequeña? What are you doing here so early?” A semi familiar face dropped in front of you, startling you out of your thoughts. Unable to talk, you just stared at her. “I’m Olga, Alexia’s girlfriend. We met a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember?” 

You nodded, she continued on, “what are you doing here? Did you sleep here?”

“What? No! No I just like coming here in the mornings!” You hurried to get up, quickly shoving your things back into your bags, that’s when the knife dropped on the sand, right in front of Olga. We both stopped and stared at it. 

“Pequeña-“

“I better go. Enjoy your day.” you quickly picked it up and all but ran towards the bus stop. your thoughts were spiralling. She was going to tell Alexia. you wouldn’t be allowed to play, you'd be sent away somewhere else. 

Training was hell. No matter how much you tried to avoid Irene, Marta or Alexia they always appeared. It didn’t seem that Olga had told Alexia or that anyone else knew but it was only a matter of time. All you needed was a few weeks, just to get through the Copa de la Reina final and then you could figure it out. 

Thankfully the week went fast and the game on the weekend was a success. There were no more run ins with Olga, or any of the captains of the team. You went as far to complete ignore Eli, Alba and Olga after the game. Quickly running into the locker room and showering before anyone else. 

It was harder to hide in the facility after home games. It was busy with trainers, medical staff, admin staff, basically everyone but you figured it out. It was a restless sleep, the close call with Olga playing in your mind on repeat. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eli had mentioned it to Alexia at their usual family dinner post match. 

“Nena moved.” 

“To where?” Both Alba and Alexia’s head shot up. 

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything. I heard her papi say Madrid. I’m assuming she isn’t joining since she’s still playing here.” 

“I’ll find out.” Olga knew in that moment she needed to come clean about finding you on the beach. Clearly you didn’t have somewhere safe to stay. Later that night, when it was just her and Alexia cuddled in their bed she did just that. 

“I saw Nena at the beach the other morning.” 

“Likely place for her to be. She has mentioned loving the beach in the past.” Alexia dismissed what Olga was saying, not particularly understanding why that was important. 

“No ale. I think she slept there. She had a sleeping bag and heaps of stuff.” 

Silence encapsulated the couple. “I’ll deal with it.” was all the captain said before rolling over and going to sleep. Expect, she didn’t sleep. She played through every interaction she’d had with you, every imagine of you in her mind. You looked tired, the light behind your eyes was gone, you had fully retreated back into your shell, barely talking at training or games, only answering questions when directly asked. 

Something was definitely wrong, very very wrong. Enlisting the help of Irene and Marta and Olga, they would find out exactly how wrong it was. 

It was evident when you came into training that you hadn’t slept, the truth was that the beach no longer felt safe. Not after that creepy man was watching you. Staying at the facility every night wasn’t an option, neither was staying with a teammate. So you stay at the train station all night. It was relatively safe, but the thought of that man kept you awake. 

You’d gotten half way through the day when you snapped. Usually you’d try and stick to Caro or Keira’s sides. Caro because she was quiet and Keira because she couldn’t exactly understand you and you couldn’t understand her. Unfortunately the gym groups were assigned differently today, meaning you got stuck with Mapi, Pina, Patri and Cata. The group of people you hated being around the most. There was never a quiet moment, they were always loud. So incredibly loud. 

It was after Mapi had ruffled your hair for the third time that you mumbled for her to stop. 

“We can’t hear you gallina. Speak up.” Patri laughed. 

“I said, don’t touch me. And don’t call me gallina.” Your patience was thinning, and fast. 

“Cheer up gallina. We are just playing.” Mapi went to ruffle your hair again, your hands landing on her chest and shoving her back into Cata. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me Maria!” Everyone stopped, turning in horror to see the scene unfold. Tears welled in your eyes, you bolted as fast as you could. 

“Nena-“ Ingrid tried to grab your wrists but you dodged her. 

Alexia, Irene and Marta all stopped what they were doing. It was extremely unlike you to be so aggressive and rude. No matter how shy you were, you always used your manners. They all shared a look before following you to the locker room. 

You rushed through the locker room trying to get your bags packed as fast as possible. You had no idea where you would go, but you needed to get out of here. Far away from the sympathetic looks of your teammates. You were so far in your own head that you didn’t hear the cleats on the floor or the door to the locker opening. 

“Nena? What’s wrong?” Irene’s hand on your shoulder startled you. 

“Nothing I’m fine. I need to go.” You shrugged her hand off you, putting your backpack on and grabbing your duffle that contained your pillow and sleeping bag. 

“Please let us help Nena. We want to help you but we can’t if you don’t let us.” Marta spoke up next, as you looked up you saw that Alexia was standing between you and the door, the only route out of the locker room. 

“Please move. I want to go home.” 

“Home? Where is that Nena? It’s not in Mollet del Vallès. I know that much.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, yelling at your captains was a horrible idea, truly horrible. Even in this mental state you knew that, “I do not want to be rude Alexia, but it’s none of your business. I come here, I train, I play, I do as I am told, I don’t make trouble or do anything wrong. Please let me leave.” 

Alexia looked troubled. You needed help, that much was clear, but you were right. You did everything that was asked of you, never complaining or whining about it. She looked to Irene for help, Irene simply nodded and alexia moved. 

“If you need help, somewhere to stay, you have my address and you know where Mami is.” 

A curt nod was all she received and then you were gone. As fast as you could walk without causing any attention to yourself. You spent the next few hours walking around. When it was dark and late, the train station was where you headed. It wasn’t until you were comfy that you realised you grabbed the wrong bag. You left your sleeping bag and more importantly your phone charger at the training facility. There wasn’t much that could be done now, you just had to wait it out. 

As you walked into training, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. You were late, never have you been late before. The lack of proper sleep, nutrition and your body always on high alert was getting to you. By the end of training you were exhausted. Barely having the energy to walk into the locker rooms to shower. Usually when someone was late without giving a proper warning, they’d run laps. No one told you to run laps so you didn’t. 

A few days later, at the beach, Olga saw you again. This time you looked worse than before. She made her way to a local bakery, getting water, coffee and something for you to eat before making her way back towards you and hoping you wouldn’t run off. 

“¿Niña? Can I sit with you?” She startled you, that much was obvious but you nodded and she handed over everything she bought. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I like the beach.” 

“You’re sleeping here?” She could tell you were scared, it took a while for you to reply. 

“Only sometimes.” 

Olga nodded, the silence settling over the both of you. “Let me take you to training?” 

The drive seem to take forever. It was uncomfortable, Olga wanted to get more information out of you, you wanted nothing more then to be swallowed into a black hole. 

“Niña? If you don’t have anywhere safe and warm to stay, please come to mine and Ale’s? We won’t be mad, or disappointed. We want to help you. Okay?” 

You gave her a small nod, moving to wipe your tears and get out of the car. Unbeknownst to the both of you, Alexia was in her own car a few metres away watching the whole thing. 

It took a day for Alexia to coax all the information out of Olga but when she finally did, she was heartbroken. The thing she had hoped wasn’t true, was in fact true. You were living on the street. Sleeping wherever you could, your papi had left you to fend for yourself. It’s not that you were doing a horrible job at it, but it was obvious you weren’t eating or sleeping enough. 

The night of the El Classico is when things went truly horrible. Alexia had told Irene, Mapi and Marta what had happened but any time they tried to talk to you, you literally ran away.

The streets of Barcelona were well and truly alive. The Madrid fans had left the Johan feeling annoyed, angry and disappointed. Anyone would when their team lost 7-0. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to sleep on the beach that night, but there truly wasn’t anywhere else. The train station would’ve been worse, the facility wouldn’t be quiet until after midnight, and there was no way you’d go to a teammates house. 

You’d only just drifted to sleep when you heard the group of guys approaching. They were drunk, that much was obvious. Pretty quickly you woke yourself up, but you didn’t dare to move. Maybe they would just keep walking. Your back was facing the sea, and them but as soon as they laid their hands on you, you turned around. 

“Oye, it’s the Barca puta.”

“You’re the reason we lost.”

“We should break her legs!” 

The fear set it. As soon as the hits started, they ended. Not only had they assaulted you, but they had stolen your school bag that contained your laptop, water bottle and phone charger. It look a while for the pain to become tolerable. you could recognise that you were bleeding, your ribs hurt, along with your arm, head and leg. You were scared and alone. 

Abandoning the beach, you made your way to the one place you could think of. The two women who had urged you time and time again to let them help you, you had refused but right now you needed it more than anything. With the help of your phone maps, you managed to get to their apartment. It took a lot longer than it should have, having to stop every now and then to take deep breaths when the pain was too bad. 

You weakly raised your fist to the door, the energy was zapped out of you. It felt like forever before someone answered. 

“Hol- holy fuck. Alexia! Come here neña. Let me help you. ALEXIA!” Olga answered the door, annoyed that someone was knocking so late at night. The minute she opened it, she wanted to cry. You were stood there, bloodied and bruised. Seemingly out of it, looking so small and frightened. 

She starting leading you to the kitchen when alexia finally came, “what? Oh my god, pequena! What happened?” 

“Hurt.”

“Where hurts neña?”

“Head bleeding… arm broken, I think… maybe ribs… leg too. Stole my school bag.” Alexia was freaking out, the usual calm, stoic captain was on the verge of tears. 

“We need to call the police Olga! And mami and Irene and-“

“Ale stop. Neña, drink this yes? Alexia is going to get the first aid from the bathroom and we are going to clean you up. We will need to take you to the hospital, but that can wait for a few minutes.” She gave alexia a pointed look while she opened the water bottle and helped you drink. 

Their apartment was soft. Very homey and not clinical like you imagined. There were photos of Alexia and her family, Olga and hers, then of them both. There were plants scattered around, a few awards here and there but not many, the one thing that seemed out of place was the dog bed and toys. 

“Dog?” Olga’s eyes followed yours, confused as to what you were asking. 

“Nala. She died last year but we haven’t been able to get rid of her things.”

“Sorry”. Alexia arrived back with the first aid kit, phone to her ear and a lot less panicked but a lot more mad. that stressed you out, Olga picking up on it straight away. Things moved fast from that point. Alexia and Olga cleaned you up the best they could but ultimately decided that you needed the hospital. It was all a blur. One minute you were in their apartment, the next you were in a hospital gown sitting in a room. 

Alexia was non stop pacing, you sat there, wide eyed waiting for her to say something. 

“You can say it.” You whispered. 

Both girls stopped and looked at you confused, “say what pequena?” 

“I told you so’ or ‘you should’ve let me help’, whatever you have planned just say it.” You could no longer look at them, staring down at the floor. You missed the look of heartbreak sweep across both their faces. 

“No no pequena. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. There’s no ‘I told you so’ to be said. You came to use when you needed help, we are here now to help that’s all that matters. Okay?” Alexia slowly reached out to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I’m sorry.” That was it. All three of you were holding each other crying. Time seemed to blend into one second. You got stitches in your eyebrow and on your leg, your arm was in fact broken and a cast was put on. The doctor seemed to talk and talk, none of the words making any sense. It was until you saw the two police officers standing outside that you seemed to snap out of it. 

The doctor left the room, seemingly to talk to the police officers and give them a run down. Olga noticed how on edge you were very quickly. 

“Hey, neña, they are only here to ask what happened okay? You aren’t in any trouble.” 

You stood up quickly, grabbing the bag with your blood stained clothes, “no I need to go. This was a mistake.” 

“Go where pequena?” 

“They are going to take me away! I don’t have anywhere to live Alexia! Papi left. He got rid of the house. Mami is dead. I have no where so I’m going to leave before they can take me.” 

“Neña no.” Olga moved to block the door. She is small. You could take her, you thought. “You’re staying with us. They aren’t going to take you because you have a home, with us. You will stay as long as needed.” 

Alexia and Olga hadn’t exactly had the conversation about it, but they both seemed to be able to read each other’s minds. They were going to take care of you, love you like your parents should have. Sure you’re 16, almost an adult. But everyone needs a parental figure, no matter the age. 

“No. You two have your own life, I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself, I have been for years.” 

“But you can’t neña. You can’t get an apartment, or a phone plan, or your drivers licence. If you’ll let us, we will take care of you.” You were considering it, really considering it. Having a proper bed, proper meals, somewhere safe? It sounded like heaven. 

“It won’t be easy pequena, it’ll be hard. For all of us. We’ll have to learn to trust each other, and learn how to live with each other but it’ll be worth it. You can decorate the room however you want, we will buy you whatever you need.” 

Before they could continue, the police came in. It took a while to answer all their questions. You could see Alexia and Olga holding hands tightly, wincing slightly when you go into detail. 

“What about my school bag? It has all my school stuff and my laptop?” 

“We will look for it, but there’s no promises it’ll be found. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” 

“With Alexia and Olga.” You could visibly feel the tension leave both the women. The officers asked Alexia and Olga to step out with them to talk, you took a few moments to gather your thoughts. How had things changed so much. You were just a kid, yet you were forced to look after yourself like you were an adult. You wanted to be vulnerable, to have someone take care of you. Sometimes all we need is a little love. 

Maybe in time, things would get better. 

[firewasabeast]

Just thinking about Tommy Kinard who grew up wishing he was hugged and loved like the neighbors kids were. He’d watch them run off the school bus and right into their mom or dad’s arms and be scooped up and held tight. Sometimes he could smell freshly baked cookies or a pot roast coming from their home as he’d turn the key and walk into his own house. His house where his dad would grunt at him for another beer and tell him to fix them both a frozen dinner (“just don’t eat my Salisbury steak, boy, that one’s mine”). Then one afternoon, when his dad caught him staring out the window at the neighbors all outside playing catch, he gave him a smack on the back of the head and told him to stop daydreaming. Those people were phonies who were never up to any good. Families like that don’t really exist, and they’re never as happy as they seem!

So Tommy buries away the idea he’ll have that. Stops watching the neighbors. Rolls his eyes when he does happen to catch one of their hugs. Grows a bit of a hardened shell.

Then he reaches high school and he thinks things will change now. He’ll have more freedom and friends and maybe he’ll join a club. But his dad tells him clubs are for sissies and he’s gonna be in sports instead. His dad is good friends with the football coach so he doesn’t have to try out. He’s just on the team, whether he likes it or not. And the other guys on the team are crude and constantly taunt and tease each other. Tommy doesn’t join in at first, would rather keep to himself, but that makes him an outcast and a loser and the butt of all their jokes so it’s easier to join in. His shell gets a little thicker.

Recruiters come to the school during his senior year and his grades are good, he could probably get a scholarship or two to a state university, but they promise so much. He’ll get to see the world! They have all these specialized programs he can choose from. They pay well and he’ll have the benefits forever. Most importantly, he’ll be away from his dad. The recruiter doesn’t have to work very hard that day. When Tommy leaves for basic he’s a little scared but mostly excited to be away! And the drill sergeants yell at him and taunt him just like the football team, just like his dad, but he can take it. He can and does prove them wrong.

He’s been wondering things about himself lately. Doesn’t let himself wonder very long though, or his heart races a bit too fast and he panics. There was this one time at basic where he had a moment alone and he jerked himself off but he didn’t use the Playboy magazines the other guys had hidden under their bunks. He thinks of Tyler instead. The guy who was in the bunk above him and had tan skin and muscles all over and a million dollar smile. When he was done, after he caught his breath, he got angry with himself. Put a fist through a wall and got in a good amount of trouble. But the other guys thought he did it because he wanted to show the sergeant how strong he was. They thought it was funny and kinda cool. Even later, as a pilot in Iraq, when he has a moment alone, he’s never thinking about a woman. His shell thickens more.

Then he’s out of the army and he’s becoming a firefighter and he thinks maybe this is when he can relax. So he goes and meets his captain, someone named Vincent Gerrard, and he can tell within thirty seconds of meeting him that this man is a carbon copy of his father. He hasn’t been the butt of a joke in a long time, and he sure as hell isn’t going to start back now, so he plays the game. And he plays it damn well.

These shells keep thickening and thickening until he’s not actually sure who he is anymore. He’s spent years being whoever he needs to be to survive and it’s becoming exhausting. Even when Gerrard leaves and Nash arrives, even when his smile actually starts to reach his eyes, he still feels wrong. So he makes a choice. He leaves.

He goes back to flying, which he loved in the army. The freedom of being in the sky was unlike anything else in life. He hears a coworker talk about therapy and he gives it a try. It’s uncomfortable and stressful but he goes back each week and yeah, okay, maybe it does help. He can feel his posture relaxing a bit at least.

He allows himself to be honest with himself. He looks in the mirror one night and takes a deep breath and says the words “I’m gay” for the first time and then he repeats it over and over and over again even as tears fall down his face.

All the shells are starting to crack.

He gets a call from Howie, who he would do anything for without question, and this particular ask gets him reacquainted with Hen, renewed friendship with Howie, a new friendship with Eddie, and a boyfriend with Evan.

Evan. Evan who meets Tommy at the door whenever he’s there, arms open and a smile on his face, ready to hold onto Tommy like it’s his job. There’s usually delicious food cooking that Tommy can smell from the driveway. Evan, who picks up Christopher or Jee and they head to the park or museum for an outing. Evan, who notices that Tommy really likes to draw so he joins a drawing club for the both of them and even though Evan himself is not great at drawing he’s always so excited for them to go together.

Evan, whose kisses linger on his body like a prayer. Whose touch burns his skin in the best way. Who gasps and grunts and grabs and whispers in his ear as their sweaty, muscular bodies practically meld into one. There’s laughter and smiles afterward, as they hold onto each other and fall asleep pressed against one another.

Evan, who makes loving easy to do. Who gives his whole heart and then some. Who breaks whatever was left of Tommy’s shell and makes him realize that the type of love he wanted all those years ago, even as a little kid, was real. It was possible. And he had it.

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀SAIGON⠀⋆⠀JOE BURROW.

pairing⠀⁎⠀joe burrow x doctor!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀10.4k.

summary⠀⁎⠀in small doses, stubbornness is attractive. it's the reason why they're both where they are: successful. but in large doses, stubbornness tangles all their wires, leaving them both turning away.

author's note⠀⁎⠀surprise, shawty!! wrote an actual summary, everybody cheer! was really trying for the angst, but dragging it out didn't feel like them. considering what i usually pull with angst, consider it a blessing lol. warnings⠀⁎⠀3rd person [she/her], angst, language, class differences (kinda sorta), argument about finances, a tiny bit of therapyspeak.

read more⠀⁎⠀joe burrow masterlist⠀⁎⠀series masterlist.

Every inch of Joe's body ached. His head pounded against his skull, amplifying every sound that shuffled past his ears. The dull throbbing of his knee drew a pained hiss from his lips as he descended down the hallway of Allegiant Stadium, out to the team bus waiting to take them to the airport. His teammates dragged their feet, shoulders heavy with the weight of their loss. Joe's eyes searched the floor, avoiding the glaring lights above. The quiet whispers of disappointment grew as they boarded the bus, each player retreating into their own cocoon of defeat.

He collapsed into a seat near the back of the bus, sighing heavily as he pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, displaying messages from his father, one from his agent, and a few from his friends, all trying to offer comfort in their own ways. But one stuck out from all the rest. It was relatively simple as if she could sense the frustration and shortness in his voice from thousands of miles away.

Sorry about the game. Talk to me when you're ready.

His thumb swiped through his phone, hovering over the digital keyboard as he attempted to gather his thoughts. What was he supposed to say to her? That he'd let everyone down? That he'd played the worst game of his life? He couldn't. Instead, he dialed her number, his heart racing as the call connected.

"Hey," her voice came through at the end of the third ring. Almost instantly, his heartbeat slowed, gently washing over him as if he had breathed in the scent of her. Soft, soothing understanding flooding his ears and pulling a sigh from his chest.

"Sorry you had to watch that," Joe murmured, his eyes closing as his head leaned back against the headrest. "Played like shit."

"You're only human, everybody has off days," she replied. "On the bright side, it was nice to get some eye candy after work. You looked pretty good out there, despite the misery."

Her attempt at humor didn't lift the fog of Joe's mood entirely, but he managed a weak scoff, appreciating her effort. "Glad I could be useful for something," he muttered, casting a glance out the window as the bus pulled away from the stadium. The neon lights of Vegas, though miles away, taunted him with their brilliance, an unsettling contrast to the bitterness that had settled into the pit of his stomach.

"What's the mood like?" she asked, there was a shuffling in the background of the call. No doubt the sheets of her bed whispering against her skin as she turned, probably shifting to get more comfortable. The thought made Joe's chest tighten, a deep ache settling in his chest as he realized how much he missed her.

"It's like a fucking funeral," he grumbled. "You'd think we'd lost the Super Bowl. Feels like we did lose the Super Bowl." He laughed bitterly, the absence of a smile communicated over the line even though she couldn't see him.

"Baby," she sighed, her voice thick with sympathy. "You guys'll bounce back. You always do."

Joe nodded despite her not being able to see him. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the bus. "But I just... I just really need to see you right now." He sank deeper into his seat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck which also ached and throbbed from the hits he had taken during the game.

She paused for a moment. If the defeat on his face displayed in high definition on her TV wasn't enough to tell her how much he was hurting, his voice certainly did. "How long is your flight?" she asked, pressing the speaker button on the call as she switched over to Maps. She typed in the address to Joe's house, mildly impressed with the flow of her thumbs, needing not a moment of thought to remember it in full.

"Uh," he squeezed his eyes shut, "about four hours, I think." The bus rumbled to life, shifting away as the light turned green, the vibrations echoing through his body. "Then it's about 30 minutes to my place. Why?"

"Well," she said, her voice light, "I know we had plans to spend my week off together. But since it technically starts tomorrow, I don't mind driving down tonight. Traffic's not too bad, I'll be there before you even land."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, baby," Joe said, the weariness in his voice palpable. "You just got off work. You deserve to rest. I can come pick you up tomorrow afternoon like we planned. I want to spend every second of your week off together, but I don't want you to wear yourself out."

"Don't worry about me, hon," she replied, her voice steady. "I'm already all packed, except for a couple of things. I'll grab them now and hit the road. I'll be there in four hours tops, all snug waiting for you in your bed." Her voice dipped low, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Joe's eyes lit up at the thought of her curled up in his bed, waiting for him; all sleepy love and warmth. It had been two weeks since he had held her, two weeks of endless nights filled with cold, empty sheets and the ghost of her scent lingering on his pillow, on his clothes, in his house. "You don't know how much I need that right now," he murmured, the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. "As long as you feel okay to drive. Text me when you're 30 minutes out, and I'll let security know."

"Don't worry about me, okay? I'm serious, Joe," she assured him. "I want to do this for you. I'll be fine. Promise."

"Alright," Joe relented, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you, baby. That means a lot."

They talked a bit longer until the bus pulled up to the airport and the team started to gather their belongings. He promised to text her when he boarded and to let her know when he'd be home. With a final, "Love you," Joe ended the call and squeezed his eyes shut, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

She stood from her bed, slipping her feet into her Ugg slippers and grabbing her phone and its charger from where it was plugged into her alarm clock. True to her word, her duffel bag was already packed, seated by her door, a pair of her gym shoes stacked on top. The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway, painting a rectangle on the carpeted floor. She didn’t bother turning any lights on, knowing the layout of her apartment like the back of her hand.

Leah sat in the living room, cross-legged on the couch, eyes trained on the Real Housewives of, presumably, somewhere. The living room filled with the sound of expletives and yelling. She held a glass of wine in her right hand, her hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. Leah looked over at her, the TV's light reflecting off her glasses. "What's going on?" she asked slowly, the volume on the TV dropping as she hit mute.

"Heading to Joe's," she said over her shoulder as she set her duffel down by the front door. She turned back towards the kitchen, searching for something to eat before her journey. "I was gonna drive down tomorrow, but he sounded horrible over the phone. So, I figured I'd just go now and get the most out of my week off."

Leah looked up at her with a knowing smile, the TV's reflection flickering over her face. "You'll be getting something for sure," she teased. "You sure you're good to drive? That's like, what, a four-hour trip at this time?"

"I'll be fine," she said with a wave of her hand. "I had a pretty easy day at the hospital, and I'm in a decent mood. I have my playlists and some sugar to keep me awake." She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and a Dr. Pepper from the fridge before returning to the living room. "But thanks for looking out for me." She leaned over the couch to hug Leah. "Give me a kiss for luck?"

Leah rolled her eyes but leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek. "One of these days I will steal you from him," she joked. "But I guess I can stomach this for now."

She laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. "You're so strong, babe." She squeezed Leah's arm playfully before walking towards the door, reaching for her keys. "I'll text you when I get there."

Leah nodded. "Drive safe, babe."

"I will," she said, slipping her phone into her pocket.

The drive was relatively quiet, with enough cars on I-71 to keep her company without causing any stress from unexpected traffic. The Cincinnati skyline came into view just as her dashboard read 11:45 PM. The city's lights twinkled like stars scattered across the dark fabric of the night, bringing her an inch of hope with each passing mile.

By the time she pulled past the gate to Joe's neighborhood, her phone lit up with a text from her boyfriend. "Just landed, be there in 35."

She parked her car in the driveway, waving to the security guard on duty, who offered to help her bring her things in from the car. "I've got it," she said with a smile. "Thank you, though." The guard nodded, his eyes lingering for a moment before returning to his post.

The house was still, much stiller than she had ever seen it. Darkness filled the rooms, the silence causing her every move to echo. She tiptoed to her bedroom, making sure to text both Leah and Joe on her way, confirming her arrival and that she was safe. His room was perfectly orderly, evidence of his housekeeper's recent visit. She tossed her bag onto the bed and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension from the road.

Her muscles eased as she trailed off to his closet, picking out a plain white t-shirt that smelled faintly of him. His shower was warm and welcoming, the water washing away the last of the road's grit and the day's stress. By the time she emerged, the scent of his soap clung to her skin, flooding her senses with his smell. She slipped into bed after completing her skincare, snapping a picture of herself in his clothes, wrapped up in his sheets, and sending it to him.

The minutes ticked by slowly as she waited for Joe. The house was so quiet she could almost hear the air conditioner run. She began to drift off, her eyes heavy as the analog clock on his dresser displayed 12:17 AM. The sound of his car pulling into the garage jolted her awake, her body rising from its spot in the bed. Her feet carried her to the door as she heard his footsteps approaching. The door swung open slowly, and Joe appeared in the doorway, visibly exhausted, his undereye darkened with shadows, his posture drooping with the weight of the loss.

He took a moment to drink her in, standing in his home in his boxers and shirt. A sleepy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, his first genuine smile since the beginning of the never-ending night. "Baby," he murmured, his chest rising and falling with a breath. She looked so at home in his space, so beautiful in his clothes. He stepped closer to her, his eyes searching hers, the need for her comfort dancing through them.

"How was the drive?" he asked, his voice hoarse from the dry plane air. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her waist, and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like her, but also so faintly of him.

Her hands found his back, gently stroking circles, feeling the tension knotted into his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. "It was fine," she whispered, her voice muffled against him. "I missed you."

Joe's arms tightened around her, his grip fierce. "Missed you, too." He continued holding her, content to stand there in the quiet darkness for as long as she would let him. His heart rate slowed, his breath evened out as her warmth seeped into his bones. He didn't realize how much he needed this until she was there, a shiver coursing through him as her fingers continued their gentle dance along his back.

"I'm so tired," he admitted, his voice a low rumble against her neck. "But I'm so fucking happy you're here."

"I know," she whispered, her own exhaustion forgotten in the face of Joe's warmth. She could feel the tension in his body, the tightness of his embrace telling her everything she needed to know about his state of mind. "Let's get you showered and into bed," she suggested, her voice gentle. "Just wanna feel you next to me."

Joe nodded into her neck, reluctant to let go. "Okay," he murmured, his grip loosening just enough for her to step back. He turned and disappeared into the en suite, the sound of the shower echoing through the room. She took a moment to appreciate the noise, the house finally feeling alive again with Joe's presence. She climbed into bed, scrolling through her phone to hold off her own exhaustion until he was done.

When Joe emerged, his skin was pink and warm from the hot water, his hair brushed back from his face. She watched him move around the room, his movements deliberate and weary. It was clear that he was more than physically exhausted; his eyes were sad, his shoulders slumped with the burden of defeat.

He finally joined her in bed, his lower half the only part of him concealed by a gray pair of boxers. He slid in next to her, his body immediately fitting into hers as if they had done this a thousand times before. She set her phone aside, reaching over to switch off the lamp, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness.

Her neck craned upwards to meet his descending kiss, and their bodies aligned, his arm snaking around her waist to pull her closer. He surrounded her with warmth, and she felt the tension in his body begin to dissolve as his hands roamed over her. There was no urgency to the press of his lips, only a gentle selfishness that grew with every shared breath.

"Missed you," he repeated, the syllables slurring slightly from fatigue. His arms tightened around her, pressing his face into her neck, his nose skimming the skin. Her hands found his hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands. She could feel his warm breath, his heartbeat thumping against her chest.

Her lips pressed to the shell of his ear, peppering kisses along his tanned skin. "Wish I could just hold you like this every day," he whispered, the pacing of his speech slowing down in his drowsiness. His hands snaked under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her back, his eyes screwed shut.

“I know," she whispered back, her voice just as tired. She could feel the beginnings of his stubble, scratching against her skin. The warmth of his breath danced over her neck. One of his hands dropped to her thigh, pulling her leg over his. "This would be the best part of my day," she murmured, her voice sleepy. "Every day."

He pulled her closer, kissing along her clothed shoulder. His breathing evened out as they continued to lay on their sides, wrapped up in each other's arms. "You smell good," he mumbled, his eyes still closed. "Always smell good, but especially in my clothes."

She hummed softly. "Used your soap," she said, her voice a whisper. "Been too long since I smelled you."

Joe's chuckle was low as he met her eye. "Been too long since I've felt you," he murmured, his hand sliding down to her ass, squeezing weakly before resting there. "Look so good in my clothes, in my bed." His voice was gruff, sleep tugging at the edges of his words.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. The weight of Joe's hand was comforting, grounding her in a way that she hadn't felt in weeks. "I'll always be here for you."

Joe nodded into her neck, his eyes slipping closed as his grip tightened slightly. "Love you, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, her fingers carding through his hair. "Love you too, Joey."

Joe's eyes remained shut as he drifted off to sleep, the comfort of her touch and the sweet scent of her skin surrounding him like a warm blanket. She lay there for a few moments longer, watching him, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Then, she too, succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, nestled against him.

Mid-morning warmth flooded through the curtains as Joe's alarm blared, jolting them both from their deep sleep. He groaned and reached over for his phone to silence it, then turned towards her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer. "I don't wanna get up," he mumbled into her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"It's Monday, babe, you don't have to," she groaned, her hand finding his as it pulled her back to his chest. "Why is your alarm going off?"

"Didn't remember to shut it off last night," Joe mumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached for her hip, sneaking under her shirt to rest on the bare skin of her waist. "You don't have to go anywhere, do you?"

Her eyes remained shut as she snuggled closer, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. "Just need to get out of your bed before I get too comfortable," she said with a small smile. "I should keep a schedule, you know, make sure I stay productive during my week off."

Joe's grip tightened around her, his eyes still closed. "No, you don't," he murmured. "You can stay here all day if you want." He kissed her shoulder. "With me." Dropped another to her neck. "In my bed." He kissed her cheek and whispered, "Where you belong."

She felt a smile tug at her lips. "That sounds tempting," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Tempting?" Joe echoed, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "It's more than tempting." His hand slid up to cup her face, turning her towards him. His eyes searched hers in the dim light, the shadows playing across his features. "It's necessary," he said, his voice thick with something that sent a thrill through her.

"Necessary?" She echoed, her body turning to face Joe fully. His hand remained on her cheek, his thumb tracing lazy patterns across her skin.

"Mmhmm," Joe murmured, his eyes still sleepy but focused on hers. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a gentle kiss that spoke of the ease that she brought with her. His hand slid from her face to her neck, his thumb resting just above her collarbone. He could feel the timid thump of her pulse under his touch.

Her eyes fluttered open as Joe broke the kiss. He was so close, his breath ghosting over her lips. She reached up to trace his jaw with her fingertips, feeling the rough stubble under her touch. "You're so needy," she murmured accusingly, her voice still thick with sleep.

He smirked. "You love it." He kissed her again, this time deeper, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She made a noise of protest that turned into a sigh as she melted into him. He rolled her onto her back, his body hovering over hers, his hand sliding down to the hem of her shirt.

He guided it over her head, his eyes focused on hers as he tossed it aside. His hands skimmed over her bare skin, his touch tender yet possessive. Her eyes searched his, her heart racing in anticipation of his next move. She felt the warmth of his body press into her, his chest to hers, her legs tangling with his.

He hummed, low in his throat, as he laced his fingers through hers, pinning them above her head. His kiss grew more urgent, his tongue dancing with hers as his hips pressed into hers. She felt the heat pool in her core, her body responding to his without hesitation. She arched up into him, her bare breasts brushing against his chest.

Joe's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak of one nipple. She gasped into his mouth, her legs parting for him. He took the invitation, his hand sliding down her side to her thigh, pushing it up and hooking it over his hip.

He ground against her, his hips rolling into hers, the friction making her squirm. "Joe," she panted, her eyes half-lidded. He broke the kiss, his mouth trailing down her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin. She felt a thrill of pleasure as his tongue followed, soothing the path his teeth had made.

"Can't stop saying thank you for being here," Joe mumbled against her neck, his breath warm and tickling. She giggled, feeling the vibration against her skin. She tilted her head to give him better access, his kisses turning into nibbles that forced laughter from her.

"You told me you needed me, so I'm here," she purred, her voice a whisper that was barely heard over the sound of his teeth scraping her skin. "But maybe I can be there for you... in the kitchen. Eating something?"

As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly, and Joe groaned just as loudly. His head fell forward, his forehead pressed against her sternum. "Fuck, I was just getting started," he murmured, his lips brushing against hers as his head lifted to kiss her again.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "We've got all week," she reminded him, pushing him off gently. "I'm starving."

Joe sighed dramatically but rolled off her, his hand sliding down to squeeze her thigh before letting go. "Fine," he grumbled, his eyes still closed. "But we're coming back to this."

She laughed, sitting up and stretching. The bed was warm and inviting, but she knew they both needed to eat. She slid out of bed, and Joe's eyes followed her as she grabbed his shirt from the floor, slipping it on. She walked over to her duffel bag, finding a pair of wide-leg sweatpants to pair with his shirt.

"I'll start breakfast," she said, leaning down to kiss him. He caught her hand, pulling her back down for one more deep, lingering kiss before releasing her.

"Don't burn anything," he teased, his eyes still half-lidded as he watched her leave the room. She shot him a playful glare over her shoulder before disappearing into the hallway, the sound of her bare feet on the hardwood floor fading as she moved towards the kitchen.

Joe took the moment to stretch out in the bed, his muscles protesting after the tense game and the long flight from the night—or morning, really—before. He couldn't help but smile, though, as he thought about her wearing his clothes, feeling his warmth even in his absence. With a groan, he pushed himself out of bed and into the bathroom, hissing softly at the sight of his bruises from the game. Wincing, he applied some of the shea butter-infused lotion she had brought with her, the coolness soothing his skin.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, the smell of turkey bacon and eggs filled the air, making his stomach rumble with anticipation. She was moving around with ease, her hips swaying to some unheard tune. She looked over her shoulder at him, her smile bright. "How do you want your eggs, baby?"

"Any way you'll give 'em to me," he uttered, his hands finding her hips from behind as he nuzzled his face into her neck. She giggled, shaking her head as she continued working on the eggs. He kissed along her neck, his hands sliding around to her stomach and then up to cup her tits over the shirt. "You're so fuckin' perfect," he murmured into her ear, his voice thick with desire. "Gimme anything you want and I'll take it."

"Not my eggs, you freak," she huffed, playfully shoving him away with her elbow. "Scrambled, over hard, omelet?"

"Surprise me," Joe said, stepping back into his place behind her, his chest pressing against her back. He could feel her laugh reverberate through her upper body, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her closer. She playfully slapped at his hands, trying to focus on not burning the food.

The kitchen was filled with the sizzle of bacon and the crackle of eggs hitting the hot pan. Her movements were swift and practiced, opposing Joe's sluggishness. He leaned against the counter, watching her, feeling the weight of the last few days fall away. He watched the way she moved in his space, so confident and comfortable. If he could have painted a picture of what contentment felt like, it would be this; it would be her.

"You know," she said, her voice teasing as she flipped an egg expertly, "you could always help. Make some toast or something. Cut up some avocados?"

Joe groaned. "But then I'd have to move." He pressed himself into her with a touch more determination. "And I'm really enjoying this view."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. When his left hand snuck up to her tits again, she shooed him away again with a laugh. "Go do something," she said, pointing towards the refrigerator. "Make yourself useful."

With a dramatic sigh, Joe retreated to the fridge, grabbing the avocados and a knife. He took his time peeling and slicing them, savoring the feeling of normalcy he longed for during the spaces of time when their worlds diverged. "How many eggs do you want?" she called over her shoulder, not turning away from the stove.

"Two's fine if you're tossing in some veggies on the side," Joe called back, his focus on the task at hand. "I'll grab some of the Greek yogurt and berries too."

She nodded. She cracked his eggs into a small bowl and whisking them with a fork until they were fluffy. She poured them into the pan with the already cooked bacon and vegetables, mixing everything together. Joe grabbed two slices of bread, buttering both sides before sliding them into the toaster.

"Wait, what day is it?" she suddenly asked aloud, the question interrupting the comfortable silence that had settled over the kitchen.

Joe paused his toast prep, looking at her with a quizzical expression. "It's Monday," he said, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Why?"

"No, the actual date, I mean," she clarified, glancing at the calendar hanging on the fridge. "It's the 9th, isn't it?" She questioned with a gasp.

Joe nodded, reaching up to find plates and silverware. "Yeah, it's the 9th. Why?" He drew the syllables out, making clear his inability to follow her line of thinking.

Her eyes widened slightly as she continued working on the omelet. "My rent and my student loans are due today," she murmured, a hint of panic seeping into her voice. "I didn't transfer the money from my savings account."

Joe's smile fell, his eyes meeting hers with understanding. "You can do it from here," he said, placing a hand on her waist. "Use my laptop. It's on the table in the living room."

She nodded, her shoulders dropping slightly with relief. "Thank you, baby," she kissed his cheek before slipping out of his grasp and making her way to the living room. She returned a minute later, sitting down at the kitchen island with his laptop. Her eyes scanned the screen as she quickly logged into her bank account. She felt Joe's presence behind her, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders as he leaned over to peer at the screen.

"Shit," she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing at the screen. At a glance, there was enough for her rent, but not nearly enough for her student loans. She felt Joe's hand tighten on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. "I must have used that money for something else," she murmured, feeling a twinge of frustration.

Joe leaned down, his cheek warm against hers, his hands moving to intertwine with hers. "Let me take care of it, sweetheart," he said softly. "It's no big deal."

She stiffened, her eyes snapping up to his. "No," she said firmly, clicking through her banking portal. "I'll figure something out." She shrugged off his touch, resuming her clicking around.

"Babe, it's just money," Joe reasoned, his voice gentle. "Don't stress over it. I got it."

Her eyes narrowed at the screen. "It's my responsibility," she said through gritted teeth, her hands clenching with tension before she relaxed them with an exhale. "Just give me a second to think."

Joe stepped back, his expression unreadable. He knew how important it was for her to be independent, to manage her own finances. But seeing her like this, the weight of her world on her shoulders, it was hard for him to stand idly by. He turned back to the toaster, his jaw clenching as he waited for the bread to pop. "Okay," he said slowly, noncommittally turning to finish off assembling their breakfast.

She continued murmuring under her breath, her right hand tapping at the calculator app on her phone as she mentally rearranged her finances. Her stomach tightened as the number on her screen grew larger, much larger than what she could reasonably part with at the moment. "Oh my god," she whispered, burying her face in both her hands.

Joe set a plate of perfectly toasted bread, eggs, and crisped bacon before her. "You okay?" He asked, his voice tentative.

She hesitated, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "I don't know," she sighed, picking up a piece of bacon. "It's just...I've been trying so hard to keep up with everything. I thought I was doing so well."

Joe sat beside her, his own plate forgotten. "Of course you are," he assured her, his hand finding hers. "So you don't have the loan money right now. It's okay, you'll figure it out."

"It's not just the loan money," she said, her voice rising with frustration. "My credit card's due in two weeks, and I won't get paid yet. I'm out of savings. I still need to pay for gas and food for the next three weeks. My niece's birthday is coming up, and I want to get her something nice..."

Joe found her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles in comfort. "Let me help," he urged again, his voice softer this time. "Just tell me how much you need, and I'll transfer it to you."

Her eyes began to cloud over as she looked at him. "I can't," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper. "It's my debt. I need to pay it."

"Baby, please," Joe's voice was low and earnest. "I just want to take some of that burden off you. I know how much you've been working, and I can help. Let me do this for you."

She took a deep breath, looking down at their entwined hands. She knew Joe was trying to be supportive, but she felt a surge of exasperation. "Joe," she began, her voice steady but firm. "I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I have to do this by myself."

"If you're worried about paying me back, don't," Joe insisted, his voice filled with concern. "I just wanna take care of you. So let me. Just tell me how much."

She pulled her hand away, standing up from her stool. "Joe, I said no. And that's the end of it." She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but it was clear she was reaching her breaking point. "Just give me a second to think. I'll be right back," she added, escaping into the hallway and up to the master suite before he could respond.

Joe sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the plate of food in front of him. He knew she was stubborn, but he couldn't help but feel a little hurt by her rejection. He pulled his plate closer to him, the smell of the eggs and bacon suddenly not as appealing as it was moments ago. He took a bite, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach.

As he sat there in the silence, he could help but take a peek at her phone. The calculator app was still open, and a number was displayed on the screen. He took a bite of his toast, the crunch echoing in the quiet room. His leg bounced as he fought the urge to turn her phone toward him, to confirm the digits of the number on her screen. The urge grew the longer she was gone, spreading through his limbs and making his heart race. He took another bite, chewing it slowly as he listened for the sound of her returning from his room.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He leaned over, his eyes taking in the number displayed. It was a low four-digit number, enough to make him pause but not nearly enough for him to feel even a quarter of the stress she seemed to be under. He knew she was fiercely independent, but this was ridiculous.

His own phone sat on the island to his right, and without a second thought, Joe picked it up, navigating to his banking app. He had more than enough to cover her entire loan amount if he really wanted to, let alone the amount that was causing her such distress. But he knew that wasn't the point. He set his jaw, frustration and affection warring inside him. He knew her pride was important, but so was her peace of mind. The decision seemed simple to him—he had the means, and she had the need. In just a few taps he could ease her burden. Sure, she might be upset with him, but that was a risk he was willing to take if it meant she could focus on the important things, like her residency and making the most out of this week together.

He made up his mind then, tapping out a quick transfer from his account to hers. It was done before she could come back. It would take a moment to clear, but when he clicked the trackpad to reload her online banking page, the amount was there. Pending, but there. He took another bite of his eggs, his stomach no longer in knots.

"Okay," she announced, her voice echoing from the hallway. She returned to the kitchen, her expression composed. "Let's just eat," she suggested, sitting back down. "I'll figure this shit out after."

Joe studied her face, seeing the tightness around her eyes, the set of her jaw. He knew she was lying to herself, trying to pretend it wasn't a big deal when it clearly was. But he also knew her well enough to know that pushing now would only make it worse. "Come here," he said gently, setting his fork down. He opened his arms to her, and she leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered, the warmth of Joe's embrace seeping into her bones. She felt his hand gently stroking her back, his thumb tracing soothing patterns along her spine. For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his comfort, to let go of the anxiety that had been building within her. But as she leaned away, she couldn't help the feeling of something being off. She glanced at her phone, realizing it was off from where she had left it.

Her head turned to look at her laptop, her eyes fell on the banking app, and she froze. The balance of her checking account was different—substantially so. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the screen, her mind racing. "What did you do?" she demanded, pulling away from Joe's embrace to look at him.

Joe swallowed hard, setting his fork down. He knew this was going to be a fight. "I just transferred some money," he said calmly, trying to keep the frustration from his voice. "You don't have to pay me back, babe. I'm your boyfriend; I'm supposed to support you."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Joe, I already told you no," she said, her voice shaking. "Why would you do this?"

Joe leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering. "Because I love you," he said, his voice steady. "And I can't stand to see you stressed like this. You work so hard. You dropped everything to be here with me on your week off. Drove down late after work just because I was feeling down. I just wanted to do one thing to make your life a little easier."

Her eyes searched his, trying to read the intention behind his words. Her hand hovered over the laptop, the urge to check her bank account again strong, but she resisted. "It's not just about the money," she said, her voice tight. "It's about me being able to stand on my own two feet. You're undermining me."

Joe's expression softened. "I know that's what you want to do," he said, his voice low. "And I respect that. But we all need help sometimes. And that's what I'm here for."

Her eyes remained on the laptop screen, the number staring back at her. "This isn't just about you, Joe," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "I don't want your money, just like I don't want anyone else's money."

Joe pursed his lips together, failing to suppress an eye roll. "You're being ridiculous," he said, his voice tight. "It's not a handout, babe. If you want to think of it like a loan, fine. You can pay me back, and I'll get you something nice with the money. It's yours, you deserve it."

"So every time that I've told you that I didn't need your money, you just... ignored me?" Her voice was laced with anger, her arms crossing over her chest. "Did you think I didn't mean it?"

"Baby," Joe growled lowly, "you're overreacting." His patience was wearing thin. "If your parents or anyone else offered, you'd take it without a second thought, wouldn't you? Why is it different coming from me?"

"No! I wouldn't. It's not different at all!" She snapped, pushing herself away from Joe. The heat of the kitchen seemed to rise around her, and she could feel the anger bubbling up inside her chest. "Didn't I tell you that I've done all of this on my own? I finished undergrad debt-free, I worked during medical school, and took out loans for what I couldn't cover. I've never once asked anyone for a handout, not even my own family!"

Joe stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "And I'm not asking you to start now," he said, his voice rising to match hers. "Just take the money, this one time. It's not like you have to struggle now to make up for the fact that you grew up with more than I did! You don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not to me."

Her eyes flashed, the words stinging like a slap. "What?" she whispered, the anger in her voice barely contained. "What the hell does that mean?"

Joe sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just...I feel like sometimes you push me away because we grew up differently and, for whatever reason, that makes you feel like you can't take anything from me," he said, his voice strained. "But I'm good now. I have more money than I know what to do with. I take care of my people, and that includes you."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his words. "I don't need to prove anything to you, Joe," she said, her voice steady. "And I don't push you away because 'we grew up differently'," her fingers air-quoted the phrase. "Maybe my family had a little more money than yours did, or I grew up in a different state, went to different schools, but that doesn't mean we grew up worlds apart. And it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to let you throw money at my problems just because you think that's what I'm used to."

"That's not what I'm saying," Joe said, his voice rising in frustration. "I'm just trying to help!"

"I don't need your help, Joe! Not like this," Her voice was firm, her irate with irritation. She turned away from him, her hands trembling slightly as tears spilled over her lash line. She walked over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a long sip to cool her anger. The cold liquid slid down her throat, but it did little to ease the burning in her chest.

"I just want you to catch a break," Joe said, his voice tight. "I know you're strong, baby, but everyone needs a break sometimes. You're not weak for letting someone else carry the weight every once in a while."

She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. "I know you mean well," she began, her tone measured. "But it's not about the money. It's about the principle. I want to be able to support myself. I don't want to rely on anyone else for my happiness or my security." She turned to face him, her eyes glistening. "If I let you pay for everything, then what happens if things get tough between us? What happens if you get hurt? What if we break up, and I've gotten used to you fixing everything with your money?"

Joe's jaw clenched as he looked at her, his frustration palpable. "You think that's what this is about?" he asked, his voice gruff. "That I'm gonna hold this over your head? That I'd use your financial situation against you?"

She set the water bottle down with a thunk, her eyes meeting Joe's. "Not now," she said, her voice softer. "But maybe in the future. I've seen it happen with other people, Joe. They start taking and taking, then suddenly they start expecting it. They forget that the person they're with had a life before them and they can have one after them too."

"You're not making any fuckin' sense, babe," he grunted, his voice echoing in the kitchen. "Why are you making this about something it isn't? It's just money."

She groaned, "Do you listen to anything I say?" Her eyes searched Joe's, looking for any sign of understanding. "Did any part of this conversation get through to you?"

"I'm listening," Joe said through gritted teeth, his blue eyes stormy. "But that doesn't mean I have to agree with you."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. "You can't just ignore what I'm saying because it doesn't fit with what you think," she said, her voice strained. She turned on her heel, fisting the water bottle as she muttered, "This is why I didn't want to tell you."

Joe stepped closer to her, his hands coming up to frame her face. "Baby, look at me," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't understand why you won't accept help from me."

"You would know if you would listen to me for once," she said, pulling away from Joe's grasp. Her eyes searched his for any sign of clarity, but only found a stubborn resolve. She could feel her anger rising, the walls she had built around her emotions threatening to crumble. "I need a moment," she managed, her voice tight.

Joe sighed, dropping his hands to his sides. "Fine," he said, his tone clipped. He watched as she strode out of the kitchen, her footsteps echoing defeat on the hardwood floor.

She retreated to the bedroom, pacing in the space they had just shared so intimately. The silence was deafening, filled only with the echo of their harsh words and the thud of her heart in her chest. She huffed out a breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside her. Even without him in her direct sight, Joe was everywhere. On her skin, in her mind, and now, in her bank account.

Her hands tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over her head and discarding the cotton blend fabric onto the floor. Her bare chest heaved with each breath, her brown skin warming in the early morning light that spilled through the bedroom windows. Her hands shook as she reached into her bag, finding a simple hoodie that had made the journey from Cleveland.

Joe remained in the kitchen, the silence thick and oppressive. He knew she needed space, but the urge to follow her, to fix this, was a weight in his chest. It went against his instincts to let her stew alone. He stared at the spot where she had been standing, gnawing on his lower lip, his brain racing with apologies and explanations and a million solutions.

He didn't stand there for much longer before he heard her approaching again. The jingle of her keys was a warning that she was about to leave. Joe steeled himself as she marched back into the kitchen. "I'm going for a drive," she announced, her voice firm. "I need some air."

Joe nodded, his heart heavy. "Okay," he said, his voice low. "But just...don't go too far, okay?"

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Joe thought he saw a flicker of softness. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she grabbed her phone from the counter, her shoulders tense. "I'll be fine," she said, her voice cool.

He watched her retreating back, the door clicking shut behind her, and the house fell silent. The echoes of their argument lingered in the air, a bitter taste left in his mouth. Joe walked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch, his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face with his hands. He was torn between anger and guilt, frustration and fear.

They had never argued like this before. Sure, they were both stubborn, but there was always an edge of humor to their disagreements, a playfulness that reminded them of their affection for one another. This was different. This was a crack in the foundation of their relationship, and Joe wasn't sure how to patch it up without making it worse. As he sat on the couch, listening to the quiet hum of the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had screwed up big time. He knew she was proud, knew that she valued her independence. He also didn't expect her to jump for joy when he offered his help. But the look on her face when she saw the transfer—that was new. It was a mix of anger, hurt, and disappointment that hit harder than any tackle he'd ever taken on the field.

He rose from the couch eventually, dragging his feet to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The pans clanked as he washed them, his mind racing.

What had he done wrong?

He just wanted to help her, to make her life easier.

Why couldn't she just accept it?

His hands clenched around the dish sponge, squeezing until water dripped out.

Did she really think he would use this against her?

He placed the rinsed dishes in the washer.

Why was she entertaining the possibility that they could break up?

As the washer hummed to life, Joe walked to his room. The crumpled shirt on the floor was a stark reminder of their argument. He picked it up, the fabric still carrying the scent of her perfume, and placed it on the chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stared at the floor. He hated this, hated that he couldn't fix it with a dry quip or a distracting kiss. But he knew her; she needed time to process, to cool down. He had to give her that space, even if it killed him.

His thighs ached, the pain spreading into his lower back as the rhythmic thump of his heart matched the sound of his feet meeting the flat surface of the running belt. The treadmill whirred beneath him, and sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes as he blinked. He had been here for twenty-seven minutes, and counting, his mind racing as much as his legs. The numbers on the digital display blurred together, his breaths heavy and ragged. He wasn't supposed to be working out, much less pushing himself like this on his recovery day, but the pent-up energy and frustration had to go somewhere. The house was too quiet, too empty without her.

Joe knew he had messed up. He knew she didn't need his money; she had made that clear on multiple occasions. What he hadn't anticipated was how much his offer would hurt her. He had seen the walls come up, the barriers she had worked so hard to keep at bay, and he had thrown them up without a second thought. He had been so focused on fixing the problem that he hadn't thought about how she might feel. It was a dumb mistake, one he shouldn't have made with someone he loved as much as he breathed, adored, and loved her.

His ringtone cut through his thoughts, loud, nearly knocking him off the treadmill. He grabbed his phone, expecting it to be his girlfriend, but instead, it was her best friend, Leah. He ignored it, let it ring through to voicemail. He was blessed with a few seconds of silence before it buzzed again. Evidently, she wasn't calling him to chat about the weather.

Leah's text message was short and to the point.

CALL ME BACK.

The urgency in the message was palpable, and Joe's stomach twisted. He didn't need any more drama, not today. With a sigh, he stopped the treadmill and wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck. He stepped off the machine, his legs feeling like jelly as he made his way to the bedroom to call her back.

Leah picked up on the first ring. "What the hell did you do to her?" Her voice was sharp, accusatory.

Joe's shoulders slumped. "Good morning, Leah," he said wearily, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It is 1:35 in the afternoon. You're not cute, Burrow," she snapped. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but she called me sobbing and couldn't explain what happened, so you're going to tell me right now. What did you do?"

Joe sighed heavily, his hand raking through his hair. "We had an argument," he admitted. "I didn't mean to upset her."

"What did you do, Joe?" Leah repeated.

Joe took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "It's about money," he began, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "I transferred some to her account without asking because I noticed she was stressed about rent and loans and her card. I just wanted to help."

"Why would you do that?" she said. He could almost see her face, the roll of her eyes, the furrow of her brow. He could hear her call him a name under her breath. "You know how she is about that shit, Joe. You've seen her work herself to the bone to pay for everything herself. I don't understand why she hates financial help, but that's just how she is, and it's what makes her her. It’s something that’s important to her. Did you stop to think for three seconds about how that might make her feel?"

Joe felt the weight of his mistake sink in. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. "Not long enough, apparently."

"Yeah, no shit, dumbass," Leah's voice was tight with annoyance. "How much was it?"

Joe swallowed hard. "Like, a couple grand," he murmured, the number sounding obscene in the quiet of the room.

Leah's sharp intake of breath was his only response for a moment. "Christ. Joe, she's a doctor, not a charity case," she said, her voice measured. "You can't just throw money at her problems because you think it's a quick fix. If you were feeling that generous, you could've just sent it over to me." The last part was said with a hint of a tease, trying to lighten the mood, but Joe knew she was at least somewhat serious.

"I just wanted to make things easier for her," Joe said, his voice laced with frustration.

"And in doing so, you made it ten times harder," Leah shot back. "Look, Joe, I know you're a good guy, and you're obviously crazy about her, but you can't just bulldoze over her boundaries like they're nothing, regardless of your intentions. Doing so only makes her feel like you don’t value the things that she does."

Joe nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I know," he said, his voice tight. "But what do I do now?"

"You start by actually listening to her," Leah said firmly. "When she says she doesn't want your money, she means it. Her financial situation is only temporary. She'll be out of residency in a year, and things will get significantly easier for her. But until then, you can't just ignore her feelings because you want your knight in shining armor moment. That's not how it works with her; she doesn’t want that from you."

Joe felt the sting of Leah's words, but knew she was right. "Okay," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "What do I say to her?"

"Start with an apology," Leah said, her tone softer now. "A real one, from the heart. Tell her you understand why she's upset and that you won't do it again. And let her know you respect her boundaries. Remind her how much you love her."

Joe nodded, his chest tight with the gravity of the conversation. He released a long exhale through his nose, allowing Leah's words a moment to hang in the air. "Look, Joe," she spoke up again. "I know I'm supposed to be the best friend who keeps you in check, but I'm not mad at you. I understand how frustrating this topic can be with her. But I set you two up for a reason. Don't blow this up and force me to cut you off. I have love for both of you, and I don't wanna be stuck in the middle."

He swallowed hard. "I won't," he said firmly. "I promise."

"Good." Leah's voice was firm. "I told her to turn her ass around and go home to you. She should be on her way."

Relief flood his senses, brushing cool air over his warm face. "Thank you, Leah," Joe said, sincerity coating each syllable. "For everything."

Leah sighed into the phone. "You're welcome," she said. "Oh, and also, don't let her send you that money back. Put your foot down about that, she deserves a break. Just don't try that shit again, 'kay?"

Joe chuckled sarcastically. "Lesson learned," he said. "Thank you, Leah."

Leah's voice softened. "Good luck," she said before hanging up.

He sat on the edge of the bed, holding his phone, staring at the screen. A few moments later, his phone buzzed with a text from her.

I'm on my way back.

The simplicity of the message didn't betray the tumult of emotions he knew she must be feeling. He texted back:

Drive safe.

The words felt inadequate, but he sent them anyway, hoping they'd serve as a lifeline across the digital divide.

As Joe waited for her, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. He knew he'd have to be more mindful of her feelings, her need for independence. He'd have to find other ways to show her how much she meant to him, beyond the material. But he also knew that she had her own walls to break down, her own compromises to make.

The sound of the garage door opening was music to his ears. He shot up from the bed and made his way to the door, his heart racing like he was running down the field with seconds left on the clock. She walked in, her eyes red and puffy, her shoulders slumped. She didn't look at him, just allowed him to wrap her in his arms. He could feel her tremble, the anger and hurt melting into his embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, delicate as the brush of a feather. She shook against him, tears wetting his shirt. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, baby."

She didn't push away, but she didn't fully melt into him either. "Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice small and broken. "I was so angry, Joe. So, so angry."

He held her closer, his heart aching with each word. "I just wanted to help," he said, his voice gruff with his own unshed tears. "I should've left it alone, I know." He kissed the top of her head, inhaling her sweet scent. "But I can't stand seeing you stressed, you know that."

She nodded, her breaths hitching as she tried to hold back the sobs. "I hate fighting with you," she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

Joe's arms tightened around her, his thumbs making gentle circles on her back. "Me too," he murmured. "Do you wanna talk about it? What can I do to make it right?"

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just... I don't want to feel like I owe you anything."

Joe nodded, his eyes serious. "I get it," he said. "I do. And I'm sorry for making you feel that way." He took a step back, giving her the space she needed. "But you don't owe me anything, sweetheart. Ever."

Her eyes looked for the truth in his words. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort of calming down. "I know you didn't mean it like that," she said finally. "But if I'm being honest, it scared me."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed. "Scared you?"

She nodded. "It's just... it's a lot, Joe. The finances, the future, all of it. I don't want to be that girl who's with you for the wrong reasons. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet, and I don't want you to ever feel like you have to save me. I know that I don't earn what I should as a resident. But this is temporary, and I have to learn these lessons before I start making real money."

Joe's eyes searched hers, understanding dawning on his face. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "And I'm proud of you for it, honey," he said gently. "You're handling all this stress with more grace than I ever could. You deserve every good thing I can give you. We just need to find a balance."

Her chest tightened at the nickname she had grown so fond of. It felt like a promise, a vow he was making to her right there. She stepped back, wiping her eyes. "Okay," she said, her voice shaky. "I would like you to respect my boundaries, Joe. I can't do this if you don't."

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "I will," he assured her. "I'll always respect you. I love you too much not to. But I want you to know that this is part of being with me. I'm gonna want to share all this with you, on your terms, of course, but I can't change who I am or how much I make."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she composed herself. "I know," she said, her voice softer now. "And I love you for who you are. But I can't have you making my decisions for me, Joe. That's what it felt like."

He nodded, the gravity of his mistake settling on him like a heavy weight. "I get it," he said, his voice earnest. "I'll be more careful, I promise."

She studied him for a moment, her eyes drifting over his features, as if trying to read the sincerity of his words. Joe's heart was in his throat, hoping she could see the depth of his regret. Finally, she nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Deal, thank you," she said, taking a step towards him, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Leah told me to keep the money this time, but no more, I'm serious."

Joe chuckled, relieved. "Yes, ma'am," he said, kissing her back. "You know she called to chew me out?"

She laughed, a soft, genuine sound that filled the space between them. "Well, it worked, didn't it? I'm surprised she didn't just drive up here herself."

Joe chuckled, his arms still around her. "She can drive up here all she wants, I'm not letting her through. That's practically handing my ass up on a silver platter. No thanks," he said.

Her laugh grew stronger, the tension between them starting to unwind like a tightly wound coil. They stood in the entryway, Joe's heart thumping in his chest, her eyes searching his for any signs of doubt. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, hoping each touch would be a step closer to mending what had been broken.

[pheracy]

Hiii your kuroo headcannons were so cute! Could you do some for kenma plzz?

Kenma Kozume ✦ headcanons

He always wears his phone charger with him, God forbid he sees himself at a social event without the possibility of scrolling incessantly through his weather app.

He doesn't know why, but he always mysteriously wakes up with his feet outside the blanket.

He gets sick very often, but he usually doesn't mind since that gives him the excuse to stay at home.

He has the most awesome underwear, all thematic about a game or series he likes. He especially loves the Minecraft's creeper one and the one with little Pac-Man ghosts Yamamoto bought him as a birthday gift.

He is so sensitive to the cold that as soon as he steps out on the street, his teeth start chattering nonstop.

He is very good at using chopsticks.

You know he has a collection of plushies he's had over the years. When he's very sad, he buries himself in a pile of them and other stuffed animals.

He stays awake at night as long as he can, so when he can't take it anymore, he's so exhausted that when he gets in bed, he falls asleep almost immediately because his brain turns off.

He usually eats 2 pop-ice per day in summer, loves the coke flavour and the lemon-orange flavor.

He showed Kuroo what kpop and asmr are.

He's into Heartsteel (LoL music boygroup) and of course, his favorite character is Ezreal.

He matches the energy of Tomorrow by Together's music.

He dedicated their song "Cat & Dog" to Kuroo as a way to make fun of how he always seems to want to be around Kenma like a dog despite being in a team well known as cats.

Kuroo not only dedicated their song "PS5" back at him but also sings the verses everytime Kenma chooses to play with the gameboy rather than going out with him. He's soo dramatic about it.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ─── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ ───

It's me or the PS5

Tell me how you wanna spend your night

Tell me which of us is more your type

Seems like you can't decide

So if it's not me, then I'm probably gonna run it over

─── ⋆⋅♫⋅⋆ ───

He can't for the life of him catch a bus on time; it's like they run away from him.

He changes his wallpaper and lock screen image every week since he can't find one he likes enough to keep it for a longer time.

His handwriting is illegible. According to Lev, it looks like hieroglyphics.

His hair gets greasy real quick.

He only wears the glasses with blue light protector Kuroo got for him while he's there just not to get told off by him. After a while, he realized his eyes don't hurt that much so he wears them more often. He'll never tell Kuroo about it.

He's too lazy to cut the food with a knife and fork, so he eats it in bites.

He has the MOST beautiful laugh, the entire Nekoma nearly cry when they heard it for the first time. Kuroo did.

He convinced Shoyo to ask Asahi where he got his hairband because he's considering getting one or maybe tying his hair up. Shoyo doesn't want him to get bald.

He doesn't know how to swim. He's like a gremlin; you just don't get him wet by any circumstance.

He'd let his partner pluck his eyebrows for him; he'd find it relaxing.

You haven't seen a person who gives less of a shit about sports besides volleyball.

He ends up swallowing the chewing gum almost every time. He forgets he has it inside his mouth after a while and just gulps.

Thank you so much for this request! Thanks also for enjoying the hcs about Kuroo^^ Since I watched the Haikyuu movie, Kenma has grown on me as a character, so coming up with these was super fun. I love that we got to know him better, his struggles and thoughts, and oh my, that POV scene was simply cinema! He's so cute, and honestly, I see myself in him in many aspects; he's so relatable as one of the few introverted characters in Haikyuu. I hope you find these headcanons kinda accurate and entertaining <3 ⏤⏤ headcanons masterlist 🧭 navigation 📬∿ Requests are open and much appreciated! You can check my fandoms to ask for a poem, hcs and more about your fav characters and ships in Eng or Spa 𔘓 Credits: divider by @uzmacchiato ♡ banner template by @tinytowns

[paladin--strait]

Could you do brothers best friend with Sidney Crosby? Maybe reader is mackinnons younger sister or something

master plan - sidney crosby

also:

all you were to him was his best friends little sister.

-

the years flew by of knowing sidney, watching him grow into the player he is today seemed to pass by quickly. my bags are packed and by the car, ready for me to take my leave. i've been staying with nathan in colorado for a few years at his apartment, having transferring high schools.

but now that i've got a transferred to a university in pittsburgh, sidney offered to let me stay with him until i was able to get my own place and have a stable lifestyle. nathan frowns, looking at me. "i'll miss you, be safe." he says, placing both hands on my shoulders.

"i will, don't worry." my words come out barely reassuring, and i can tell by his face he's not the happiest about the situation. "sidney will be here soon, please don't give him that really long 'take care of my little sister or there will be consequences' talk. he's your best friend, he wouldn't do that."

"i just want to make sure you're gonna be safe and not exposed to anything you don't need to be exposed to." his arms cross, his eyes squinting a little.

we bicker back and forth a little before we see sidney walking towards us with a smile. they hug and laugh a little, then they both turn to look at me. my backpack is slung over my back, a large suitcase in my hand.

"you ready, little nate?" asks sidney, a smile on his face.

ah, there it is. the dreaded nickname that sidney gave me years ago and it's stuck ever since he joked about it and got a bunch of laughs. i nod, smiling awkwardly. he helps me with my suitcase, letting me say goodbye to nathan. "bye baby sis, be safe and be happy. don't stress too much about school, i know how you get. i love you." he rants, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"i'll be safe, i promise. i love you, nate." i whisper, hugging back. it's gonna be weird moving away from my brother, since we've been together practically our whole lives. "i'll text you when the plane lands."

"you better. and sid, i better not hear anything about you not taking care of her and keeping her safe." his words stern, pointing a finger at sidney. "i know shes grown, but she needs taking care of too."

sidney nods with a smile, my suitcase still in hand. "i won't let anything happen to her, i promise." he gestures for me to follow him, and i wave goodbye to nathan. the door to nathan's car shuts after he waves, my lips pursing together as we walk towards the bus.

the ride is awkwardly quiet between us all the way to the airport, with a question here and there. but, once we get to the airport and walk towards the plane with the rest of the team, i can't help but feel a little nervous. i'm grateful that their managers let me fly back with them after the penguins game in colorado, just a perk of being a players sibling, i guess.

i take a seat in the front, knowing the players will probably want to sit in the back. i pop in my earbuds, listening to the playlist of my downloaded music. i stare outside the window, watching the plane leave the ground.

i wake up about an hour later, pulling my earbud out to look over at who tapped me on the shoulder. it's evgeni malkin, looking at me with a cheesy smile. he invites me to play cards with his group of people he's sitting with, hoping i'll say yes. i sit with them, laughing and cracking jokes as we play a lively game of cards.

the rest of the flight goes by quickly and i stand, walking back to my seat to collect my stuff. i thank the group for the fun game, walking off the plane with tristan jarry. we got to talking during the flight, we seem pretty similar so we got along pretty well. i hand back, waiting for sidney.

he walks up to me, his coat blowing in the wind. "have fun playing cards, little nate?" he asks with a smile. "come on, we still have to take the team bus back to the arena so we can get to our cars." i huff, just ready to get to his house, ready to sleep in a comfortable bed.

the bus ride goes by smoothly, about 20 minutes of quietness. the players are now tired, the moon high in the sky. they don't typically travel at night like this? but since the plane ride was so short, they just decided to come on home after the game.

we finally get in sidney's car, him turning up the heater. he sighs, driving back to his apartment. i look out the window as he drives, admiring the lights of the city at night. the car ride is silent, with a yawn or sigh here and there.

we soon arrive to his apartment, the car doors opening from both of our sides. i look around the parking garage, grabbing my luggage from his car. most of my stuff was shipped here already, having been here about a week.

sidney helps me with a few of my things, leading me to his apartment. the door squeaks a bit as he unlocks it, kicking it open.

-

it's been a few weeks since i moved in with sidney, and we've ended up becoming pretty good friends. i go to most of his home games, we eat dinner together, we play board games and card games when possible, he helps me with my homework, it's all been so fun being here with him.

at first i thought i would hate living with him, but it's actually made me pretty happy. he knows just how to cheer me up, making me my favorite meal or spending time with me when i'm sad. i do the same for him, and now we practically do everything together.

i slip on my crosby jersey, sighing. i fix the rest of my outfit and hair, grabbing my wallet, phone and keys. i make my way outside, unlocking my car and getting in. sidney bought me a car for my birthday last week, a gift i never expected, especially from him. i begged him to take it back, but he insisted that i kept it and stop taking ubers everywhere.

my phone connects to bluetooth as i get in and buckle up, and i press a few buttons on the wheel, calling nathan. his voice comes through the speakers a few seconds later. "hey baby sis! how's it going?"

"good! i'm on my way to the penguins game. how's it going with you?" i ask, pulling out of the parking garage.

"good, practice was terrible today. everyone seemed off..." he says, sighing.

"everyone gets in a slump here and there, i'm sure it'll be okay." i reassure, smiling. we talk for a bit until i pull into the parking lot at the arena, "okay, i'm at the arena so i gotta go!" we say goodbyes and i excitedly make my way into the arena, grabbing a drink and snack before i make my way to my seat.

the penguins are playing the rangers tonight, so it should be a pretty entertaining game. i set down my drink and take a seat, munching on my snack while i wait for the game to start. i throw away the trash just as warmups start, making my way back to my seat as fast as possible.

i smile as the players make their way onto the ice, i clap and cheer a little, watching both teams do drills and stretches. i see sid skating over, a smile on his face and a puck in his hand. be throws the puck over, and he laughs when i can't catch it. i pick it up and put it in my pocket, smiling at sidney.

he gestures for me to take a photo with him, so i grab my phone and turn around, smiling as i click the capture button, showing him the photo. he gives a thumbs up and waves, skating back to warm up. i laugh, sending the photo to nathan.

once the anthem is over, the game begins soon after. the puck drops, and they players work hard to get the puck in their offensive zones, trying their best to score. i make sure to take a lot of pictures so i can post them later, it's been a while since i last posted so i want some content.

-

i wait up for sidney, editing the pictures on my phone and uploading them to instagram. i tag the penguins in some the photos, then tag sidney in the picture we took together. the pictures are posting when the door clicks open, a loud and tired sigh filling the room.

i turn, seeing sidney walking in. i give him a smile, congratulating him on his win over the rangers. he thanks me and gives me a hug, when his phone dings.

he looks down, clicking on his phone and checking his notifications. "you tagged me in a photo?" he asks, laughing as he clicks on the post. he smiles warmly as he scrolls through the photos, and there's a hint of something unreadable in his eyes when he stops on the selfie of us during warm ups.

"do you not like it? i can take it down if you want me to." i ask, looking at his phone.

"no no, i love the photo. send it to me?" he smiles, looking at me.

i nod, pulling out my phone and sending it to him. his phone dings a few seconds later, signaling he got the picture. he thanks me and gives me a hug, wishing me goodnight.

i go to bed as well, yawning as i change into my sleep clothes.

-

the next morning when i wake up, i smell bacon and eggs. i shoot up in bed, not even bothering to change. i rush into the kitchen, "is that bacon?" i ask excitedly.

sid laughs and nods, flipping the pieces of meaty goodness with the kitchen tongs. he lets them cook, moving to stir the scrambled eggs. "do you need any help?" i walk over to him, looking at all the delicious food he's cooking.

"you can set the table if you want." he smiles warmly, gesturing to the plates on the counter that he's yet to set. i nod, grabbing the plates, silverware, and napkins and bringing them to the table.

i'm placing everything in its spot when his phone dings, "can you see who that is?" he asks, still working on breakfast. i nod, walking over to his phone. i click the on button to see who texted him, only to be met with the photo of me and him set as his lock screen.

"y/n? who is it?" he calls out, wondering why i'm so quiet. "is something wrong?"

"no, nothings wrong. i just...spaced out." i lie, smiling softly. the phone automatically turns off, so i turn it on again. "it's geno, he wants to know if you want to hang out later and eat dinner."

"tell him i'm busy," he says, bringing the pan of bacon to the table and putting a few pieces on our plates. "me and you have plans to go to that new restaurant, remember?"

"are you sure? we can do that some other time."

"no!" he says, almost a little too quickly. his tone is suspicious, "i mean, no. i had to make reservations for that restaurant, they book up quickly and it's be over a month before we can get in again."

"oh, alright..." i eye him suspiciously, before texting geno back. he puts a thumbs up on the text, and i set sid's phone down and join him at the table. we eat in a comfortable silence like normal. "sid, this is amazing. i swear, you get better every time you cook."

he laughs, eating a piece of bacon with a shrug. "i have practice later, but i'm showering and changing at the rink so be ready to leave when i get home. remember it's a fancier restaurant, so wear something nice."

"i will, i already have it picked out." a laugh leaves my mouth, then i continue to eat.

-

the door opens with a creak, just like it did the first day i moved in. sidney walks in, looking at me. i swear i can see the faintest blush on his cheeks, a happy grin now plastered on his face. "you look amazing. are you ready to go?"

i nod, standing up and following him to his car date he locks the door behind us. he opens the door for me, a cheeky grin on his face. i laugh, sitting down in the plush, leather seats of his car.

the drive is mostly quiet, with soft music filling the silence. we ask each other questions here and there, with the occasional joke, cough or yawn. once we pull up, he quickly gets out and opens the door for me. i smile and thank him quietly, following beside him into the restaurant.

the waiter sits us at our table and sets down the menus, asking us if we would like any drinks. we answer with our preferred drinks of choice, the waiter giving us a polite nod as he goes to get them. i open the menu, scanning the pages.

after a moment of silence between us, i break it softly. "sidney, this place is awfully expensive. i'll pay half."

"no need." he laughs, adjusting his jacket. "you're worth it." his words make my face flush red, a dumbfounded look on my face.

"sidney..."

"y/n." he begins, waiting for the waiter to leave after he brings our drinks. "i need to tell you something." his tone and face suddenly serious, making me set down the menu as he does the same.

i nod, willing to hear him out. "of course, anything."

"just, don't freak out, okay? you have to promise to hear me out." he says, and i agree with a nod.

"listen y/n, i thought you moving in would be a mistake. that you would bother me and make my life a living hell." he sighs, and my face drops. "but, i was wrong. completely wrong. you have made this the best time of my life. you always know just the right thing to say and when to say it, always take care of me and my friends. i guess what i'm trying to say is...i really like you. like, a lot."

my jaw drops slightly, my hand coming up to fidget with the necklace he got me.

"if you don't like me back, i understand. but, just know, i already talked to nathan, and he's okay with this, if that's what you're worried about."

i shake my head, "sidney, i like you too. i've liked you for so long, but i never saw it." i admit, a smile gracing his face at my words.

he laughs softly, reaching into his coat pocket. he pulls out a little box, with a beautiful ring inside. i'm about to speak, but he cuts me off. "don't worry, i'm not proposing. this is a promise ring, to signify that i'll always take care of you and love you."

i smile softly as i look at the ring, the silver shining in the box from the light. i slip it on my finger, the band fitting me perfectly. it's decorated in small gems, different colors all over it. "it's beautiful...thank you."

he nods with a smile, putting the empty box back in his pocket. his stomach grumbles loudly, making both of us laugh. "well, i guess we should order now."

i nod, picking my menu back up while we're both still laughing. i peek out from the top of my menu, looking at him. he's still grinning, his eyes scanning the menu.

i snap a sneaky picture of the ring, sending it to nate with a message attached, 'promise ring!! 💍' i smile as it sends, the message soon popping up as read.

he texts back quickly, his message making me laugh. 'it was all part of my master plan to get you two together...😈'

i show the message to sid, his laugh bellowing out across the quiet restaurant. it draws a little attention, something i would normally be embarrassed about. but with him, i could never be embarrassed.

[missmaymay13]

serendipity - m.celebrini w.smith

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

m.celebrini x fem!oc | 2.5k

Summary: the two young sharks rookie decide to have an adventure before a game and end up getting lost. desperate and with no way back to the arena, they enlist the help of two girls who happened to be at the right place at the right time.

a/n: let me know if you guys would want a pt.2!

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The bus wasn’t even supposed to pull in for another two hours, but apparently, someone had either seriously messed up the schedule—or more likely, Will Smith had just misread it entirely—and now the San Jose Sharks found themselves standing awkwardly early outside Climate Pledge Arena. They looked like a group of over-dressed teenagers dropped off way too early for prom, loitering around the team bus in full game day suits, checking their phones, yawning, and stretching like they were about to step into a cage match instead of a professional hockey game.

"We are so painfully early," Macklin Celebrini muttered under his breath, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt like it had suddenly become sentient and was trying to strangle him. His gaze slid sideways toward Will, who stood a few feet away with the unearned enthusiasm of someone who clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that it was still barely morning.

Will’s eyes were practically sparkling with the energy of a golden retriever that just saw its leash. "This is fate," he announced dramatically, stuffing his phone into his pocket and turning to face Mack with a grin that could only mean trouble. "We’re exploring. There’s this TikTok-famous coffee shop, like, two blocks from here."

Mack raised an unimpressed eyebrow, already regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "You mean the one that’s always packed and impossible to find?"

Will’s grin only widened, that dangerous little glint in his eyes shining brighter. "Exactly. Come on, we’ve got time."

Mack groaned audibly. "We’ve got pre-game in two hours."

"Exactly!" Will beamed. "Time for a little adventure."

Against every rational thought in his brain, Mack followed him.

Thirty minutes later, the adventure had devolved into a slow-moving disaster. Will was spinning in circles on a cracked sidewalk like a malfunctioning GPS, pointing at random buildings. "I swear it was right here! This is exactly what it looked like in the video."

Mack, already freezing in his too-thin suit, tugged his jacket tighter around himself and leveled a withering glare at Will. "That video was probably filmed in 2022. There is no coffee here. There is no cozy aesthetic or magical TikTok oasis. There is only windburn, the smell of questionable alley hot dogs, and the creeping terror of being late to warm-ups."

Will waved him off with the blind confidence of a man who’d never admitted fault in his life. "We’re close, I swear. I’ve got this whole mental map."

"Your GPS skills are a hate crime," Mack muttered. "You've pointed at three identical brick buildings in a row and said 'it’s definitely that one.' I’m beginning to think you just want us to die before the game starts."

Will spun around, scanning the street again like it might suddenly reveal itself if he blinked hard enough. "Look, if we just take one more left—"

"You said that three turns ago. We’ve taken more lefts than a Nascar driver."

"Okay, rude, but fair," Will replied, unbothered, still leading them deeper into architectural nowhere.

Mack sighed deeply, the kind of exhale that carried the weight of regret and frostbite. "I’m never letting you near a map again. Ever."

Will glanced down at his phone and frowned. "Okay... Uber says the nearest ride is thirty minutes away."

Mack inhaled deeply, slowly, and said, "I hate you."

Will patted his shoulder like they were on a sitcom. "You love me."

"In the most begrudging way imaginable."

And then they turned the corner—and walked straight into fate.

Or rather, directly into two unsuspecting women holding coffee cups.

"Oh my god—are you kidding me?!" the taller girl yelped as she stumbled backward, miraculously managing not to spill a single drop of her drink. Her friend, a petite brunette with the sharpest blue eyes Mack had ever seen, caught her arm to steady her and immediately zeroed in on them with an unimpressed look.

"Dude, watch it—Jesus," she said, squinting up at Will and Mack like she was already ranking them on a scale of stupidity.

There was a silence. Not the regular kind. The kind that was drawn out, socially awkward, heavy with the weight of two people realizing they just knocked into two complete strangers while wearing thousand-dollar suits.

Will blinked. Mack looked like he wanted the sidewalk to swallow him whole.

Then Will tilted his head in a very exaggerated, very obvious way. Mack gave him a death glare. Will widened his eyes meaningfully. Mack sighed like a man who had resigned himself to whatever chaos was about to happen.

"Are you guys... having a stroke?" the short one asked, brows raised high.

Will grinned with zero shame. "Slightly. But actually—we were wondering if maybe you were headed near the arena? Like, soon?"

Mack practically hissed, "Dude," under his breath.

The taller girl, who was now regarding them with skeptical eyes, narrowed them even further. "This is a bad idea."

"We’re going to the game anyway," the shorter one—Issy—shrugged. "I mean, if you don’t mind sharing a backseat full of gym bags, thrifted records, and like, three water bottles that may or may not be from last week."

Will clapped his hands like she had just offered him a golden ticket. "You’re angels. Literal angels."

"This is how people get murdered," Mack muttered as they followed the girls toward a tiny hatchback parked nearby.

The inside of Issy’s car was best described as... lived-in. The backseat was an eclectic jungle of bags, clothing, a yoga mat, and something suspiciously glittery. Will, of course, had called shotgun before the door even opened. He was already playing with the aux cord, grinning like he’d won the lottery.

"Issy," he said, dramatically turning to her as she buckled in. "Do you believe in the unifying power of early 2010s pop?"

"Only every day of my life."

Mack climbed into the backseat, folding himself like a pretzel. Ari slid in after him, careful not to knock over the chaos occupying most of the seat.

"Sorry about the mess," she whispered, cheeks already turning pink.

"It’s fine," Mack replied quickly, eyes fixed on the back of the front seat as if avoiding eye contact would help his ears stop burning.

Issy peeled out of the lot like she was trying to qualify for NASCAR. Will screamed.

"DEAR GOD, USE YOUR BLINKER!"

"I LITERALLY DID!"

"THIS IS HOW I DIE!"

In the back, Mack gripped the side handle like a man on a rollercoaster. Ari tried to keep herself steady, but when Issy made a particularly sharp turn, she toppled sideways, colliding gently into Mack’s shoulder.

They both froze.

"S-sorry!" Ari stammered, pulling herself upright with comical speed, only to find her hand accidentally landing on his.

Her fingers touched his.

Time paused.

Her head snapped up, her eyes locked with his, and for a moment, the entire car disappeared. Then she yanked her hand back, face flushed to her ears, and turned to stare at the window like it had personally betrayed her.

Mack, meanwhile, was trying to remember how to breathe.

"You’re bad at directions," Issy said casually, breaking the moment from the front seat.

"You’re bad at driving," Will retorted.

"You screamed when I made a legal U-turn."

"Because you did it in front of a semi!"

Ari let out a soft laugh that warmed something in Mack’s chest. He glanced at her again, and when she looked back at him, they both smiled—shy and slow.

"You guys are something," she murmured.

"That’s one way to put it," he said, voice quiet, amused.

They screeched into the arena parking lot with a minute to spare. The boys practically fell out of the car, straightening their ties and brushing down their suits like they hadn’t just risked their lives for a cup of coffee that never even existed.

Issy leaned out the window, grinning. "You’re welcome for the worst Uber ride of your life."

Will winked. "Five stars. Would almost die again."

Mack turned to Ari, who was brushing crumbs off her lap. "Thanks... for not judging too hard."

She smiled, teasing. "Too late for that."

They laughed. It was quiet, awkward, and warm.

Then, as if coordinated, the boys whipped out their phones.

"Instagram or Snapchat?" Will asked.

"Both," Issy said, already pulling out hers.

Ari blinked. "Wait... are you—"

Will cut her off, voice smug. "If we win tonight, it’s because of this."

Ari rolled her eyes. Mack was still watching her.

She looked away.

He smiled.

The game hadn’t started yet.

But something else had.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The arena buzzed with pre-game energy, a low rumble of chatter and anticipation rippling through the crowd as Arabelle and Issy found their way to their seats. They were a few rows up behind the Kraken bench, with a perfect view of the ice and, more importantly, the chaos that was bound to ensue once the puck dropped. Issy flopped dramatically into her seat, taking a massive sip of her soda before turning toward Ari with a smug grin.

"Sooooo," she sing-songed, eyebrows waggling. "You and the Macklin were pretty cozy back there."

Ari didn’t even look at her. She just rolled her eyes and muttered, "Pretty sure that’s because we were jammed in next to a yoga mat and half your closet."

"Uh-huh," Issy said, all knowing. "I saw the moment. You touched hands. There was eye contact. Blushing."

Ari groaned. "Oh my god, you were watching us? No wonder we were swerving all over the place—you were too busy spying instead of looking at the damn road."

Issy burst out laughing, unapologetic. "Guilty. But seriously. Did you think he was cute?"

Ari hesitated for a second, then sighed. "I mean... yeah. Obviously. He’s gorgeous."

Issy turned, fully facing her now with wide, expectant eyes.

"But he lives in San Jose, Iss," Ari added quickly. "He’s an NHL superstar. I’m just some random girl who gave him and his buddy a ride because they were too dumb to plan ahead. He probably has a thousand girls throwing themselves at him every day. He’s not interested."

Issy snorted, but before she could respond, the lights dropped and the arena erupted in cheers.

The game began, and with each shift, Ari tried to keep her focus on the action—on the Kraken, the fans, anything that wasn’t the fact that every single time Macklin Celebrini skated near the bench, he looked up. And not just a passing glance. It was direct. Intentional. Like he was checking to make sure she was still there.

And every time it happened, Ari felt her cheeks heat up in an embarrassing, impossible-to-ignore way. She’d duck her head, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, but Issy noticed. Of course she noticed.

"He’s looking at you again," Issy whispered.

"Shut up."

"You shut up. I think he just smiled."

"Issy."

"I’m just saying!"

The game ended in a tight 3-2 win for the Kraken, and as the final buzzer sounded, Ari clapped and cheered with everyone else. But there was a little pang of disappointment she wasn’t expecting as Mack disappeared down the tunnel.

"We are not going home yet," Issy declared, grabbing Ari’s hand as they exited the arena. "There’s this bar like two blocks away that always has cheap drinks after home games."

"I’m not even dressed to go out."

"Neither are half the people there. Let’s go."

Ari, too emotionally drained to fight it, followed.

The bar was cozy, crowded, and loud—the kind of place where conversations happened over thumping bass and neon signs. About an hour in, they were nursing cocktails and split fries when the door opened with a gust of cold air and a sudden shift in energy.

A group of men stepped in, all tall, all effortlessly cool in jeans and jackets. And very, very familiar.

"No. Way," Issy whispered, her eyes locked on the door.

"What?"

Issy reached for her phone, typing furiously. "That’s them. That’s like—half the Sharks. Oh my god."

Ari’s stomach flipped as she scanned the group. Sure enough, there was Will, laughing about something, and right behind him—Macklin.

Before she could fully process it, Will spotted them. He grinned, said something to Mack, and the two peeled off from the group, heading straight toward their table like this was totally normal.

Will dropped into the chair next to Issy without hesitation, throwing an arm across the back of it like he belonged there. Mack approached more slowly, still a little cautious, and took the seat next to Ari.

"Hey," he said with a shy smile. "Didn’t expect to see you here."

"Seattle’s a small town," Ari replied, her heart doing somersaults. "Or you’re just following us."

"Maybe a little of both."

Meanwhile, Issy and Will had already descended into a whirlwind of laughter, bickering about music, road trips, and something about cheese fries.

Ari and Mack sat in their own little bubble of quiet. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t exactly effortless yet either. After a few beats, Ari leaned in slightly.

"You played great out there. Sorry you guys lost."

Mack shrugged, smile sheepish. "I knew what I was signing up for when I signed that contract. Sharks are a work in progress."

"Still," she said. "You looked good."

He looked down for a second, then back up at her. "Thanks. That means a lot."

The conversation started to flow from there—easier, looser. They talked about Seattle, about the road schedule, about how exhausting it was to live out of hotel rooms. They talked about Ari’s job, her favorite places to eat in the city, how she used to play rec soccer before an ankle injury sidelined her. Gradually, they leaned in closer, shoulders brushing now and then, smiles wide and easy.

Then—WHACK.

A large hand clapped Macklin’s back, nearly sending him face-first into the table.

"There you guys are!" William Eklund, clearly a drink or two in, leaned heavily on the table. "Come play pool. We need more people. Come onnnn."

Will was already dragging Issy toward the tables before either girl could protest.

"You in?" Mack asked, glancing at Ari.

"I guess I don’t have a choice."

They stood together at a nearby high-top as Will and Eklund went head-to-head in a truly chaotic round of pool. Ari and Mack stayed close, still chatting, their laughter blending easily into the noise around them.

Ari glanced up at him, his face lit by the neon overhead light, smiling in a way that felt entirely too dangerous.

Oh god, she thought. This is not good.

She couldn’t catch feelings for a guy who lived thousands of miles away. Who belonged in a different world. One where cameras followed him, fans adored him, and his time wasn’t really his own. She was just... Ari. A girl with a beat-up car and a spontaneous streak. This couldn’t be anything.

Right?

As the night wound down and the crowd thinned, Mack leaned a little closer, his voice low.

"I really enjoyed getting to know you tonight."

Ari’s breath caught. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to play it cool. "Me too."

Before anything more could be said, Will and Issy reappeared, cheeks flushed from laughing.

"Ugh," Issy groaned. "Why does the night have to end?"

Will turned to the girls. "What are you doing in February? During our All-Star break?"

Ari blinked. "We’re going to Boston. Visiting a few friends. Probably going to the Beanpot."

Will and Mack exchanged a look and smiled.

Ari squinted at them. "Why are you smiling like that? It’s weird."

Mack tilted his head. "We’re going to be in Boston too. Watching the Beanpot."

Issy gasped. "Shut up."

"Seriously?" Ari asked.

Will nodded. "Guess we’ll see you there."

Before the girls could even fully process that, Mack added, "We’re doing a quick golf trip to Arizona the next week too, during the break. You guys should come."

Issy looked at Ari. Ari looked at Issy.

The look said everything: Why not?

They grinned.

"Sure," Ari said. "Why not."

Whatever this was—it was just beginning.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 2 - ( c.s )

part one

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, kissing, that’s it i think

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: PART TWOOOOO!!!! i hope u guys like this series i’m having a lot of fun with it (and s/o to my girl @cutenote for letting me use her name). self-indulged this chapter and made the reader a flyers fan so SRY but anyways, enjoy! next thing im putting out is a matt request and then i’ll be working on this series and the tattooartist!reader x matt series. if you have other reqs, questions, confessions, etc, my inbox is open 🫶🏻

@cutenote @mattsmunch @mattybsbitch @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss

your stomach flips as you stare in the mirror, twisting and turning every which way to make sure you look alright. you’re in one of chris’s jerseys, repping the scarlet and white colors of boston university, complete with the little ‘C’ emblem for captain.

he left it in your mailbox earlier on his way to the arena, demanding that you wear it instead of the BU sweatshirt you had planned on going in. so you listened to him, even though you’re not really sure why.

your hair and makeup are all done, contrary to the last time chris saw you, when you were in his house threatening to call the cops. it feels performative, getting all dressed up for something you don’t even want to go to.

but what the hell, you hadn’t seen the team play at all this year, and if you look your best you’ll feel your best. at least, that’s what you convinced yourself would happen.

“are you done up there? we need to leave, games gonna start soon!” one of your roommates calls from the living room.

you sigh and turn away from your own reflection so you can head for the stairs. cassidy and ramona are both waiting for you on the couch as you round the corner, also decked out in BU merch.

you’re just lucky you had been able to convince them both to come with you, so you don’t have to stand by yourself.

“took you long enough.” cassidy mumbles under her breath as she stretches her legs and stands up.

mona mimicks her movements, but not without shooting her a glare. “be nice, she’s obviously nervous.”

“no i’m not!” you protest, and now they both give you an eye roll as they pass you to get their coats from the closet.

“your voice just went up ten octaves.” cass snarks.

you are anxious, but it’s just because of the unknown. you still haven’t figured out what chris is angling at, besides maybe sleeping with you, which isn’t gonna happen. well, probably not at least.

no, not ever. oh my god.

“i’m not nervous. i just wish i could back out.” you double down, turning to see them both pulling on their big winter jackets.

“you used to love hockey, you just don’t like chris. one game won’t kill you.” ramona replies.

“and you also didn’t have to agree.”

this accusation makes your face flush, in embarrassment and in denial. “he wouldn’t have stopped that party if i didn’t. and you know i could never actually call the cops.”

ramona stays silent as cass laces up her shoes. “whatever you say babe. you look cute in his jersey either way.”

“cassidy!” you whine in exasperation.

“i’m honestly not sorry.”

the entire walk to the get to the game is spent harassing you, which is a solid twenty minutes because you live off campus. ramona does try to keep it to a minimum, though you can’t really blame them for the questions. you have them too.

it’s always been weird with you and chris. you hate his attitude, how people fall to his feet like he’s some sort of god. you can’t stand the way he talks to you like he can read your mind, or how you always catch him staring at your lips just so he can pretend like he wasn’t.

he does it to every girl, and you don’t know why he’s taking all of these extra steps to try and get you into bed.

maybe because you see through it, and you don’t want any part of him. he said it himself, he doesn’t want a relationship, and you’re not looking to get an STD, so you don’t know why he’s bothering.

you finally arrive at the facility, and your stomach flips. tons of people are out tonight, of course. the sun is long gone with it being winter and all, so the lights are extra overwhelming as you step inside.

you head through security and scan your passes, ones that are specifically right beside the student section in the very front. chris gifted them to you for free since you didn’t get season tickets, right by the glass so he knows where you are.

even when you were a pain in the ass and insisted you needed two more for your roommates, he made it work. it was a little impressive.

you find your seats, and the boys are already on the ice warming up. you spot chris from the jersey number, 3, and you can see his long hair poking out from underneath his helmet.

he’s focused on taking a practice shot, but as he skates by the glass afterwards you see him looking, like he isn’t sure if you showed up. but then he finds you, and you can actually see his stupid smile.

he waves, just a tiny one, before he goes right back to drills. you’re thankful he didn’t make it dramatic, because you know there’s plenty of girls in the stands who want him, and have probably already been with him.

you each take your coats off and hang them on your chairs. you know the fact that you having his last name plastered across your back doesn’t help the attention, but people can think what they want.

you don’t give a fuck. cassidy was right, it’s cuter on you anyways.

they head into the locker room quickly after your arrival, and even more people fill in to watch the show. the student section is loud as the facility finally goes dark, and the team skates back onto the ice moments later.

spotlights flood the stadium, highlighting different players as both teams line up along the neutral zone. you cheer extra loud when they announce the starting lineup and call chris’s name, even despite your vendetta against him.

no use being a shitty fan if you’re already here.

they get ready for the face off after the national anthem, and BU gets the puck. it’s back and forth for a while, and you find yourself groaning and cheering with the rest of the crowd during every play.

the first goal of the game is scored within fifteen minutes, by one of his other roommates ben, of all people. you and your friends are jumping around like maniacs, and you can see him laughing at you guys after they’re all done celebrating on the ice.

it makes you wonder if chris told them you’d be here, but you force yourself to eat the popcorn cass bought and stop thinking about it.

the second period begins and BU keeps possession for most of it, pretty much dominating their opponent. in the final thirty seconds, chris drives down the rink to score another goal.

you throw your hands up without thinking, and you let the excitement take over. “fuck yeah!”

cassidy and ramona are screaming too, shaking you by the shoulders wildly.

he comes skating over, pointing right at you as he does a lap near the student section. heads turn, and you can literally feel people staring at you now, even despite the noise and the chaos.

but you’re alive, and you can’t get enough of this environment, so you keep cheering for him regardless of the burning feeling of eyes on you.

“that was cute.” ramona nudges you with a genuine smile, and you’re fighting your own grin as you shake your head.

“whatever.”

the rest of the game is swift. your goalie makes a couple great saves, and a guy named dylan, who you’ve met before at parties, scores the final point of the night.

it just twists the knife further, because it’s a total shutout. the fans go wild as the final buzzer sounds, and you’re right there with them. you relish in the lights, the feeling.

you really did miss watching hockey in person. and you can’t even say you necessarily hate watching chris anymore. there’s just something about the way he skates, so locked in on the game.

he’s a threat, to be completely honest, and you kind of love it.

“that was fucking crazy.” cassidy is beaming happily as you guys gather your things ten minutes post-game, and ramona nods along.

“we’re gonna have to do this more often.” she glances at you with hope.

“hey, don’t look at me. i’m in it for the free tickets, and i’m not sure how long that’ll last.” you’re lying through your teeth, because you enjoyed it just as much.

but again. who knows what he’s really trying to do here.

“you could give him the benefit of the doubt.” mona suggests dryly.

“does he really deserve it? he’s going to think he’s the shit either way.” you point out, and she goes quiet.

“maybe that’s true, but i’ve never heard of him doing whatever that celebration was with other girls.” cassidy takes over, and she’s honestly check-mated you.

it is strange, because when you watched games last season, before you had chris as your neighbor, before you even really knew of him, you hadn’t ever seen that. and from current knowledge, you’re pretty sure he had a short term girlfriend during one of those months.

“touché, i guess.” you grumble, and as if right on que your phone vibrates in your pocket.

chris

wait for me, 15 mins max

ramona and cassidy take the bus home, leaving you on your lonesome as the crowd clears out slowly but surely.

you can hear girls whispering about you as they walk by, but it’s not even worth it. you’re not scared of what they have to say. maybe when you were younger, you would have reacted, but it’s just displaced jealousy anyways.

they don’t even know the truth.

finally, after what feels like a painful amount of time, you get a text from chris with directions toward the locker rooms.

it’s far more quiet now as you make your way to the ground level of the arena, headed to the section of the rink you know is closed off to pretty much everyone else. there’s a guy standing there, dressed in his black shirt with the facility logo on it.

he goes to stop you, but chris comes strutting through the hall, out of uniform now. his brown hair is all messy, and he’s dressed down in a matching black sweat set.

“she’s cool, i have a pass for her.”

he walks right up to you, looping a red lanyard over your head. his fingertips brush the skin of your neck as he collects your hair with his hands, flipping it out from underneath the string for you.

it’s a small thing. his touch is barely there, and yet it still burns.

the security guy smiles at you as you follow chris down the hall. you’ve never been back here before, and you have to admit it’s kind of cool.

you can see where the arena workers go on and off the ice, and the large garage type doors that let the zambonis in and out.

“so.” he breaks the silence, and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

you were in your own world, and you kind of forgot what was actually going on here.

“so.” you parrot, waiting for him to continue as he leads you around a corner.

“looked like you actually had fun for once.” chris jokes, and you shove his shoulder half-heartedly.

“shut up, i’ve always liked hockey. you though? i’m not so sure.” you give him a look and he opens his mouth like he’s shocked.

“come on, i pointed you out after my goal and everything. you’re telling me you didn’t like it even a little?”

you liked it more than you care to admit, so you don’t. “it’s gonna take more than that to impress me, christopher, but i will say it was a good game.”

“you might just be our lucky charm.” chris glances at you out of the corner of the corner of his eye as he slows to a stop in front of the locker room.

you cross your arms over your chest. “now you're just patronizing me.”

“always assuming the worst.”

“well, you make it easy.” you tease.

he pauses to look down at your defensive stance, at his jersey all scrunched up around your body, and you can tell by his smirk that he’s loving it a little too much.

you clear your throat to try and alleviate some of the tension and chris snaps out of it, turning to head through the little entryway.

“i’m gonna grab my bag, don’t go anywhere.”

“you’re my ride, dumbass.” you remind him, and you hear his chuckle reverberate against the walls as he disappears.

a few players head out as you wait, ones you don’t recognize, and they nod at you politely as they chat amongst themselves. it actually takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it.

chris comes back into the hall a minute later, bag slung around his shoulder. he’s got a black bruins beanie on now, and you raise an eyebrow instinctively.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, waving his hand so you follow him further down the wide corridor.

“your hat.” you point, and he looks offended.

“what’s your problem with it?”

“not everyone who goes to school here is actually from boston, genius. i’m a flyers fan.” you smile at him sweetly, and he literally groans.

“how did i not know this?” he asks as you guys reach the door that leads to the team parking lot.

“because you don’t know me.” you reply swiftly.

chris pushes the door open and holds it for you, another move you don’t expect. “i know more than you think.”

you shiver slightly as you step past him into the cold, wrapping your coat around yourself a bit tighter.

“if it helps you sleep at night.” you chirp over your shoulder.

you know his car, a black jeep grand cherokee that you’ve always been a little jealous of, and it’s sitting in the middle of the lot. not many others are still here, and you can hear both of your feet kicking up gravel as you walk.

chris picks up his pace so he can beat you there, swinging the passenger door open before you can do it yourself.

“wow, chivalry’s not dead.” you say blankly, sliding into the seat so he can close you in.

“what can i say, i’m a real gentleman.”

the interior smells like a pine air freshener, which actually isn’t a bad touch. chris walks around so he can toss his bag in the back and get behind the wheel, starting the engine and peeling out of the spot.

it’s quiet for a moment, aside from the music, and you can’t help but peek over at him sitting across from you. the shadows accentuate his striking features as he mumbles lyrics under his breath, nodding his head along ever so slightly.

he looks pretty, and you don’t like it one bit.

“i can feel you staring at me, you know.” chris turns to glance at you for a brief moment before he puts his eyes back on the road.

it makes your palms sweat, because he caught you in the act and now there’s no shying away.

deny, deny, deny.

“just wondering why your face looks like that.”

“what, devilishly handsome?” he smirks.

“i was thinking gremlin-esque, but sure.” you deadpan, and he just shakes his head and laughs lowly.

“so scared of your own feelings. it’s cute.”

it’s a major call-out, and it normally doesn’t phase you. but tonight it’s different. he’s being so fucking strange, and it’s clearly been messing with your head.

“i’m not scared of shit, because the only thing i feel is sorry for all the girls who have actually fallen for this.” you retort, and the frustration is clear in your voice.

“other girls don’t get the princess treatment like you do.” his self-satisfied demeanor doesn’t falter for a second, even despite your low blow.

“yeah, right. i’m sure i’m really special.”

chris grips the wheel tighter as he turns onto your street, and you have to rip your eyes away from his long fingers.

“well you’re the only one who’s ever worn my jersey, so that’s something.” he admits, scratching his neck absentmindedly.

you’re not sure whether you believe it, but this time he actually does sound genuinely nervous. well, nervous for chris.

“and i wear it best too.” you brush some imaginary dust off of your shoulder as he pulls up into his driveway and puts the car in park.

“won’t argue on that one.” he shrugs, shooting you an easy grin.

“that’s surprising.”

you step back out into the crisp night air, slamming the door shut behind you. you meet chris at the front of the car and try to move around him, headed for your own place.

he takes a step to block you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “where are you going?”

you put some distance between your bodies, because he’s once again too close for comfort, and it’s hard to focus on your words when he’s inches from your face.

“home, obviously.”

“why? i thought we were going to hang out.” he frowns.

“nothing good ever happens in your house past nine p.m.”

this makes him smirk. “very good things happen in that house past nine p.m.”

“your charm is irresistible, truly.” you bite back sarcastically, maneuvering around him as you try to ignore the fire burning in your stomach.

you’ve only taken two steps before chris grabs your arm, pulling you back into his chest quickly. his other hand goes to hold the side of your face, tangling in your hair as he leans in close.

his lips ghost over yours, just barely. you can smell the cologne he must have put on after the game, can feel his slight stubble scratching your face, and it’s all too much.

you haven’t been kissed in so long, and right now it doesn’t matter that it’s chris, and that it goes against everything you stand for. your eyes flutter closed and you fill the gap, pressing your mouth against his hard.

it shocks him, so much so that he almost forgets how to do this properly. chris can taste your berry chapstick, and your lips are so much fucking softer than he even imagined.

his tongue slides against yours skillfully, deepening the kiss as he presses his body flush against yours. you can feel his thumb brushing your cheek as your mouths clash together continuously. its passionate and angry and intense, and you can’t believe it’s happening.

why is this happening?

the thought snaps you out of it, and you put your hand on his chest to force him away roughly. chris is surprised, and you’re both slack-jawed and breathing heavily as your body tries to catch up with your brain.

“i…i’m gonna go.” you mumble quietly, because you have no idea what else to say.

“or you could stay.”

“i don’t want to.”

“you’re a terrible liar.” he counters, and you can see how raw and red his lips are even in the moonlight.

you shake your head and turn toward your own front porch. it’s too hard to continue meeting his fiery gaze, because he’s looking at you like he actually needs you.

“goodnight, chris.”

“this isn’t over, you know. one day you’ll finally admit it.” he calls after you, and you don’t gratify him with a response.

there’s nothing that’ll change his mind, especially after you had actually caved in during that moment of weakness. it was so unwarranted, and you’re angry that kissing him didn’t feel as wrong as it should have.

you take the steps two at a time and hurry through the door, closing it behind you and pressing your back to the wood.

your fingers dance across your lips, and you swear you can still feel his mouth on yours.

[multiheadcanons]

PACK A BAG WITH THE MERCS

scout: tiny black backpack. holds his gun and twenty bucks. a comb, a compact mirror, and two condoms. his ID, his passport, and a prepaid gift card with 37 cents on it. a comic book, an extra mag, and a crumpled piece of paper with his family’s phone numbers on it. an extra set of engineer’s goggles. an extra set of sniper’s aviators. a broken pencil and a bottle of unlabeled pills. it’s aleve. a pack of gum and one loose cigarette.

soldier: fanny pack but he carries it like an orc’s club. his ID, his checkbook, a gram of cocaine, a used syringe missing its needle, and $100 bucks cash. aside from these things, it is filled to the brim with rocks, animal teeth and bullets, used and unused.

pyro: hello kitty novelty ita bag. packed with pins. coin purse full of pennies, no silver coins. minimum of five lighters in different colors. matchbox. aerosol spray can. pack of colored pencils. small bottle of water, smaller coloring book. hair barrettes. dog ty beanie baby. pack of stamps. a charcuterie fork they stole from a restaurant. two loose bandaids, some hydrogen peroxide, an open pack of mike and ikes, and three mints.

demo: a fanny pack and he wears it correctly. his checkbook, his ID, his shit list, and a dud of a prototype of a small bomb that he abandoned the ideals of long ago but he tells himself he’ll come back to it. a pen, and two rolls of quarters. the deed to a lake house in michigan he won in a poker game. a walkman, and five shooters of various liquors. a large folding knife, a set of small bolt cutters, and an extra black eyepatch. in case he loses the one he has on.

heavy: small cooler bag he wears across his back, “misha” neatly embroidered in red. two water bottles, a bag of cheez-its, and a sleeve of peanut butter crackers, a couple oranges and a small bag of grapes if he made a stop at the grocery store recently. $50 bill. ID, debit and credit card, and a checkbook. passport. a white feather, two pens, and a box cutter. small flask of vodka. two unused shotgun shells, a keltec PMR30, and a loose earring. microfiber cloth, small notepad littered intermittently with russian, not written on the lines.

engineer: a simple brown leather pouch he attaches to his belt loop with a carabiner. he keeps his ID, his checkbook, his passport, anywhere from ten to thirty dollars in cash, various amounts of change, the keys to his truck, and a couple extra bullets in case they’re ever needed. he’ll occasionally slip a small screwdriver or wrench in there for on the go fixes, but he is usually also taking his toolbox wherever he’s going.

medic: black leather satchel. contains $250 american cash in small bills; and €150 euros. and a roll of quarters. a travel first aid kit, a shooter of vodka, a bottle of water, and a biohazard trash bag. ibuprofen, acetaminophen, and either two tabs of acid, an eight ball of cocaine, or a loose, unlabeled pill. probably xanax. could also be tylenol. he will take it regardless. a white feather, a small pocket knife, his passport, and a wallet, containing an old photo of times long gone, a photo of the team, a fake ID, and three credit cards that do not have his name on them.

sniper: his pockets. wallet containing his ID, his american driver’s license, his insurance, up to $500 cash and a small photo of his parents. keys in opposite pocket. sometimes a receipt or two. everything else is in his van, and if he’s going somewhere, he’s taking his own vehicle.

spy: mid size clutch purse. two packs of cheap cigarettes, one menthol one not. $50 american dollars. a baby photo and a photo of a woman in a blue dress. three separate passports with different names, four credit cards with other names. none of them are his. his knife and revolver. pocket atlas, and a faded contact book of numbers that don’t work anymore. an out of date bus pass, and a ticket to a concert he never went to.

[sunarots]

taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

11. people change ♡

"Hey, wake up."

Your eyes flutter open as someone lightly nudges you awake, a hand rest on your knee. You lift your head from Osamu's shoulder, rubbing the sleep from your eyes to wake yourself up. "Sorry, was I asleep for long? You should've woken me up." You wait for Osamu to get out of his seat before shuffling from the window seat, taking your rucksack from him as he grabs his own.

"Wake you? I'm not that dumb. I've heard the stories," he scoffs, leading you off the bus. Though he's not looking, he knows the exact look on your face.

You follow him with a scowl. "I'm not that bad..."

"You are," Kuroo agrees, hauling your suitcase and his towards you. "You have the itinerary handy?"

You nod your head and rummage in your bag, pulling out the crumpled sheet of paper. You lead Kuroo to the front of the group, comparing the time on your phone to the timeline on the sheet. "Damn, we lost some time. I said to everyone to use the toilet before we left, but did they listen?"

"They never listen to you," Kuroo teases, lightly nudging your arm.

Rolling your eyes and dismissing his comment, you wait for everyone to gather around you and Kuroo before proving him wrong. "Okay, everyone! We're late to the games but we're in time for dinner. You all have your room assignments, drop off your bags and get settled. We'll meet in the common area in ten minutes with Sendai's team and make our way there together. Be on your best behaviour, just because coach is sick doesn't mean we can slack off and misbehave. Any questions?" You spot Bokuto's hand shoot up, already knowing what he'd ask - again. "No, Bokuto, you cannot share with Akaashi. We've been over this. Now, go get settled. If you need me, I'll be in room seven with Sendai's manager. I'll see you all soon."

You hang back, waiting for Osamu to send his brother off into the unknown so he can walk you inside. Atsumu goes bounding off ahead, almost tripping up a step on the way. You bite back a laugh and turn to Osamu, now by your side. "Maybe he'll get lost."

He switches his case from one hand to the other to drape it around your neck. "One can dream. So, who are you rooming with?"

"Sendai's manager. We've met a couple times, all the managers have a group chat...well, the girl ones. Kuroo keeps up with the guys," you explain, smiling at the student holding the door for you both. You lead him past the common room and towards the dorm.

"Why does Kuroo keep up with the men?"

"Because they're just so... Weird. They act crazy." You glance over your shoulder to make sure no one's following. "So, what's the plan? With me and you, I mean. We need to try make it really convincing for everyone. Well, I'll probably tell Kiyoko because we're always gossiping, but everyone else needs convincing."

"Well, I think if I kiss you on the cheek at some point when people are looking it could give Iwaizumi a stroke," he comments, a smile tugging at his lips at the thought. "I know he's not the target, but it would be funny."

"That would be funny." You knock a couple times on the door to the dorm room, turning to face him. "We can do that tomorrow morning. That would wake everyone up."

"Or kill someone..." He pauses in consideration and turns to you as the door opens. "Worth it."

"Who are you killing? I'd rather not harbour a fugitive." Kiyoko keeps one hand on the door as she eyes you suspiciously. "Unless it's Rubi. In that case, I can be your alibi."

"See? This is why Kuroo deals with the men and I befriend the women. We stick together," you tell Osamu before properly greeting Kiyoko. "Thanks for letting me room with you again!"

Kiyoko waves a hand and opens the door for you to step inside. "It's no problem. I like not having to share my dorm, but it's nice to have a guest once in a while."

"I'll see you in the common room with everyone else, okay? If Atsumu's late, kill him for me." You flash Osamu a smile before closing the door to the dorm, leaning back against the door.

Kiyoko has her arms crossed over her chest, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Is that pretty boy? He's cute."

"Hey, back off! You have one already." You lightly swat at her arm, pulling your case over to the empty bed and setting it on top. "How is he?"

Kiyoko sits on her bed, eyes scanning over the pictures on the wall. "He's good. He's enjoying his course and likes being able to have more control in the team. I think he was excited to see Iwaizumi-san and exchange tips." As she speaks, she watches you pull out a bag of toiletries from the case. "But enough about Ryu. How is Osamu?"

Instantly, you press your lips into a tight line. "Well... We're pretending. No one knows but you. Also, Ugly and Osamu has a fight and Osamu called him Ugly."

Kiyoko's jaw drops open as you speak, scouring her mental dictionary for an appropriate reaction. "Oh my- You're faking? Is that a good idea?"

You shrug your shoulders after a moment of thought, settling at the edge of the bed. "I mean, maybe?"

"Is this because he doesn't like you back?"

You gasp more dramatically than intended, hand on your chest. "I'll have you know that he liked me when I first started dating Ugly."

"But does he like you now? People change, y/n."

# fun fact !

kiyoko tries to stop y/n from getting too lost in her perfect world after hearing about suna

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

taglist (open!). @v3nusplanetofluv @mdmraz @thoughtswithbbg @fireinyoureye @wakashudou @jisookdays @tespho @frootloopscos @gigiiiiislife @walllflowerrrsss @tangerinelovr @datonegaybestfriend @sturnprincess @jpegarchives @justanotherweeb666 @1yeah1 @rrosiitas @yuu-via @zazathezaer @softpia @animenaces-world @loveelylani @punkhazardlaw @to-dino @nanamis-right-tiddie @aboutkiyoomi @arusio @aloore @dailyakira @alexithemiyatic

[holyblonded]

Kyra bothering everyone in the tillies camp and then hiding behind chickie so as not to get scolded because no one stays mad at chickie

— kyra is relentless in camp, like a bored little sibling with too much energy and not enough outlets. she’s poking people during stretching, flinging grapes at sam during lunch, hiding mini boots, and stealing steph’s coffee just to see what’ll happen

— whenever someone finally snaps and turns around to scold her, kyra is already halfway behind chickie, casually holding her arm like “i’m innocent actually” while chickie just stands there blinking like a confused deer

— chickie, bless her soul, has no idea what’s going on 90% of the time. she’s like “why’s everyone looking at me like that” and kyra’s peeking out from behind her with the most smug grin

— steph will march over all stern and ready to lecture, but then chickie looks up at her with those big guilty eyes even though she didn’t do anything and steph just sighs, rubs her temples, and mutters “you’re lucky she’s cute.”

— macca doesn’t even bother anymore, she just points at kyra and says “you better get your little menace away from me” and chickie’s like “she’s not that bad” while kyra is actively untying her shoelaces behind her back

— sam is onto kyra’s tricks though. she’ll be like “chickie, move” and chickie’s like “what? why?” and sam deadpans “so i can yeet kyra into the ocean”

— once kyra accidentally locked ellie in the bathroom stall and when ellie finally got out and came storming into the hallway, kyra just jumped behind chickie like “protection please” and chickie, totally unaware, gave ellie a lil wave like “hi!”

— kyra almost got them both in trouble with caitlin once but chickie looked so panicked at the thought of getting scolded she immediately folded and caitlin ended up apologizing to her somehow while kyra stood there grinning

— whenever they’re on the bus, kyra’s the one starting games like “let’s prank call our coaches” or “truth or dare but if you don’t answer you have to sing in front of the whole squad” and chickie’s just like “okay!” because she has no idea she’s being dragged into chaos

— eventually the whole team just accepts that if chickie’s nearby, kyra is probably up to no good and using her as a human shield. leah once called it “emotional camouflage” and honestly, it’s accurate

[alltimecharlo]

would u care for some one sided mack angst?? HAHAHHA gosh cuz i read this thing and i think u reposted it where its all the things mack does for/with will and its very 'macklin is in love not doubt', what if- tired mack "oh he's just never gonna see me like that isn't he, even after everything we've done together" and wills really just oblivious and cant figure out why macks been mia and he misses the hugs like ????? AHHAHAHA

mack angst? yum. count me in. fic under the cut!! <3

Mack is tired.

Bone-deep, soul-weary tired.

Not from the early practices or the brutal away schedule or the pressure of keeping his numbers up. No, that kind of exhaustion he’s used to, trained for. It’s manageable. Predictable.

This—this is something else entirely. It settles in his chest like a weight he can’t shift, digs into his ribs when he breathes. It hums low in his bones every time Will laughs, every time Will touches his arm in passing, every time Will leans his head on Mack’s shoulder like it means nothing.

Because it probably doesn’t.

Mack’s done everything short of spelling it out in neon letters. He’s been there for Will in every way a person can be. He’s driven him to the airport at 5 a.m. without complaint, let him fall asleep on his couch a dozen times, always with Will’s cold feet pressed against his thigh. He knows how Will takes his coffee, how he gets when he’s anxious before a game, how he hums under his breath when he’s reading.

They’ve held each other through wins and losses and late-night rooftop conversations. Mack’s laughed so hard with Will he’s cried. He’s cried for real, too, when things have been heavy and it’s only Will’s voice that calmed him down.

And still. Still.

Will looks at him and sees… what? A best friend? A teammate? A buddy?

Never more.

So Mack pulls back.

He doesn’t mean to do it at first. It’s little things—a late reply to a text, sitting one seat over on the team bus, leaving the locker room early before Will can loop an arm around his shoulder. It’s easier this way. He thinks, if he can just get a little space, maybe he can breathe again.

Will notices.

"Dude," he says one day after practice, brows drawn together as he corners Mack by the water cooler. "Have I done something?"

Mack blinks at him, startled. "What? No. Why?"

Will frowns. "You’ve been... weird. Distant. You barely looked at me during drills today. And yesterday you left before we could get coffee."

Mack shrugs, tries for casual. "Just tired, man."

"We’re all tired," Will says, and his voice is softer now, uncertain. "But you always make time. I mean, you—you always do."

And there it is. That thing in Will’s voice that makes Mack ache. Like he’s trying to reach for something but doesn’t even know what he’s grasping at.

Mack looks away. The hallway hums with background noise—voices, footsteps, someone yelling for tape in the equipment room. It all feels very far away.

"Maybe I just finally figured out it’s not worth hoping for something that’s never gonna happen," Mack says quietly.

Will’s expression shutters. "What?"

Mack shakes his head. "Forget it."

Will doesn’t.

The next few days are strange. Mack can feel Will watching him more than usual, like he’s trying to fit puzzle pieces together. He keeps lingering, keeps brushing too close, keeps almost saying something and then backing down at the last second.

It’s torture.

And it’s not enough.

One night, Mack’s walking to their hotel room on an away trip and hears Will laughing through the door, video calling someone. Probably one of his college friends. Maybe that girl he mentioned a while back. Mack doesn’t know. Doesn’t want to know.

He keeps walking.

Will texts him an hour later: "Hey, didn’t see you at dinner. You okay?"

Mack doesn’t reply.

Later still: "Missed you today. Missed... us."

And Mack stares at that one for a long, long time.

Because he misses them too.

But he’s not sure he can keep bleeding himself dry for someone who doesn’t even realize he’s holding the knife.

♡

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

Casino plot?! LET'S GOOOOOO

It's giving WOTFI 2023 (one of my fave wotfi's) so I respect the hustle :)

...wait, why isn't "SMG4:" in the title anymore? Team, why isn't it there? Team? TEAM?!

(the following is my live reaction:)

why is Mario's face so me rn like ???

Brothers, your honor

it's so realistic how siblings turn something so casual into a competition only bc there are stakes now, we love to see it (hey, it takes one to know one)

...oh. huh. "Why are you taking it so seriously? It's just 4 memeing." I know. It's just, uh.... [*flashback noises*]

[SMG4 Episode Concept #5 // X _ X ]

...we gotta go 🏃‍➡️ GET OUT GET OUT /ref

OH GOD THE TEAM KNOWS! THEY READ MY FIC! IS THIS WHAT I GET FOR WRITING A GOOP!4 TIMELINE?

no no, i'm joking. I'm sure it's just 4 live memeing, that's all. but hey uh Team, I wouldn't mind if you leak the script/storyboards to me. For research purposes ofc, and totally not to keep my sanity at bay or make it worse somehow

(at this point, chat, just shove me in the basement. just do it)

what if i start crying? then what?

is it really that easy to get me hooked? yeah probably. all you really gotta do is serve me (found) family and I'm in

LET'S GO GAMBLING ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

YEP, it really is giving Casino Paisano (ik it's not really, but still)

oh hey, 3! whatcha doing here?

g r a b

also 3, while it is incredibly wholesome of you to think of your son's education, you shouldn't be gambling (i seriously think he used all the cafe's income for this smh /affectionate)

now i'm just imagining Eggdog going to school and Three getting emotional, "That's my son right there, so smart and talented! Just like his dad :)" and shows off his PhD in psychology (written in crayon) to probably 4

actually, seeing 3 here, i was half-expecting him to be in his wotfi suit (listen, i ADORE those wotfi suits)

money money money

look at this dude:

:D

I wanna squish him like playdoh 💙

well, I mean, he's not wrong. it did work last time:

Applying a cheat in the rigged game cancels each other out, and leaves you with luck and chance

Truly a win-win. The more you know 💫

LET'S GO GAMBLING ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ

AYYY we got some cameos here in the background!! Let's see: Waluigi and Wario, Karen, Bob, Melony, and Kaizo! Good to see them again

I do love the idea of Bob and Melony being besties. honestly, personally hc that they're found siblings (and I will write them that way)

y'know it's really bad when 3, of all people, telling you that you're betting too much smh

welp time to fade away ✌️

HOLY SHIT MARIO IN LEGGY FORM

i honestly did not see that coming. i think it might be a one-time bit but who knows? the same was said with Leggy and here we are

oh hey it's Cube (the penguin). here to gamble too?

(sooooo cube, about the showgrounds map...)

hey! no snitching, Mario didn't even win!

LUIGI?! (why am I surprised? I shouldn't be)

...yeah that makes sense

KEANU REEVES?!

rules are rules, Mario. just bc you're his brother, it doesn't mean you get a free pass

final boss: connect 4

IT COMES BACK FULL CIRCLE BABYYYYY

damn he really is good, game over bro

YES I CAN, WATCH ME [*explodes into confetti*]

oh wait, give me a sec:

writer!ink: "And eventually, Luigi played so well that the next move Mario makes, Luigi would win regardless with another line of his chips he strategically prepared." producer!ink: "Wow, well, I bet it's going to be hard for Mario to turn this around." writer!ink: "Actually, it's going to be super easy, barely an inconvenience." producer!ink: "Oh really?" writer!ink: "We're just going to bring back the cheat tactic 3 brought up earlier."

producer!ink: "Oh, I guess it really was that easy." writer!ink: "Yeah, by throwing 3 under the bus. :)" producer!ink: "What?" writer!ink: "Anyway, Mario's going to pull that move from one of those Pixar animated shorts and switch the game up."

this could literally go so many ways with Luigi, i don't even know

OH, Mario won? well ig congrats(???)

"only in the SMG4 universe 😀👍" [*insert laugh track*]

at least he gets to have his hat back

hate to break it to you, Luigi, but ✨NOPE✨

LET'S GO GAMBLINGGGGG ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ

HOLD UP, is that who I think it is?

ENHANCE.... YEP, Shadow, I knew you animated this part LOL

I mean, I already did based on Mario's expression but sneaking in a Waggy cameo here... I respect the hustle, dude. big fan of your AU 💙

Congrats to ggf0ur for your art being featured in the end credits🎉 *chess kiss*

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

Such a good episode we got, just a silly casino adventure with a side of cheat tactics on the side. And hey, a main focus on Mario, Luigi, and 3! we love to see it :)

But one day, we'll get a girlies-centered episode (happy international women's day). screw it, i might write it!

Oh, the mystery of the title? What is up with that anyway? There has to be a reason why it's excluded this time. The most probable is that they forgot to add it in, pretty reasonable. But the speculation I had was that (starting from this year btw) it's a split of timelines and at least one of them should be considered canon. Ever since the No TV episode and the Team being lured into Mr Puzzles' trap, the titles haven't been the same. And who's to say we returned from the OG timeline? But that's crazy me saying this, I've been thinking of multiverse stuff lately. Another could be a fight of control over the channel. Who's to say? Like I said, it could be an honest mistake, but it'll be best if we keep an eye on that, ok?

[EDIT: well it turns out, the prefix is now added to the title. maybe the Team forgot to add it in lol. still, having it included in these recent episodes is still spooky, ooooooh *spooky hands*]

as to my earlier freakout about 4's meme and my fic, here's a post from my collab partner of the Goop!4 theory, funkii [link]. looks like I wasn't the only one :)

a legit photo of goop!4 enthusiasts talking about the theory:

we're not delusional, i swear /silly

I actually have a bit of hc for the end there with Luigi: I would like to think that Luigi did know that Mario cheat but he let Mario have this one. After all, all Mario would win is his hat (and life) back. Basically how one of your siblings got in trouble and you kinda have to lecture them but because you care for them, you let them off easy. Yeah, like that. Luigi is a good sport and forgiving, as seen from the beginning, he's just choosing not to say anything. But Luigi did hope that Mario learned his lesson... which Mario didn't. welp, sorry dude

moving on to 3, maybe don't gamble your cafe's income for your son's tuition. you got a cafe for that. save the gambling for another moment.

on that note, chat, gamble responsibly!

Anyway, Shadow, anything you want to say about that cameo? X

[*evil laugh >:)*] Oh my god, the reactions are priceless. [*chuckle, then clears throat*] Um, hi there, SMG4 Twitter! I just wanted to make a thing really quickly, seeing literally all of my feed blowing up after the Mario Gambles His Life video went up earlier. Um, I just wanted to make this clear right now: yes, I'm the one who slipped Waggy or the Team Killer Ink Leader, whichever you prefer to call her, into the ending of the video. That was me! [*chuckle*] I just wanted to admit that right now, but the other thing I also want to say is like, uh, please don't look too much into it! Again, Waggy being there was solely just a background thing, just a cameo I thought I could get away with. And wouldn't you know it, I did [>:)]. So, don't look too far into it, that was just a silly thing. I just wanted to say that. Even still, all of your reactions are priceless, as always. [*another evil laugh >:)*] That's all I wanted to say, so...

...well, i'm going to take it at face-value bc I know you're planning something big for your AU (please let the girlfriends have a happy ending) and it's understandable to be excited about it.

I would be evil-villain laughing at my plotting too.

And hey, a perfect example of a creative member adding a "signature" to their scenes.

But like I said for Anaidon's Shadow Man, any of the AU/villains people of the Team working on the side could very much be proposed to be canon in the show, as an idea. I'll keep an eye on it and yall choose what to believe.

Well, anyway that's all from me. I'll see you all next time and remember: numbers go first!

Wow, last episode resembled a lot of IGBP ,and now this one with a bit of wotfi 2023, that's fun.... wait........

[glamourscat]

the years between us | Nishinoya Yuu x reader

mention of time skip | a bit angsty (?) in the middle | fluff ending | hinata being oblivious | the rest of the team being Noya x reader n1 shippers | I wrote this at 4am but I love it

SNAPSHOT 1

Ever since you could remember, Noya had been a rather peculiar guy. Unapologetically loud, energetic and with a laugh that could fill an entire room with warmth. He wasn’t known for being tall, sure, and maybe not for being the prettiest. But Noya had a way about him. The way he carried himself confidently, yet underneath the bravado, he was almost shy. And there was nothing you liked more than catching glimpses of those rare but heartwarming moments.

Like when you flirted back at his terrible pickup lines. When, during a bus ride after a game, his head rested against your shoulder as he slept peacefully, cozy in your warmth. Or maybe it was the way he used his short height to his advantage just to tackle you.

Either way, every moment spent as one of Karasuno’s team managers felt like a blessing. Filled with laughter, joy, a bit of chaos, but so much love. Love for a specific person too.

SNAPSHOT 2

If Asahi had to pinpoint a moment, he would say it was during nationals. That was it. That’s when he started—well, when he, Daichi, Suga, and Tanaka— began to notice the change in Nishinoya. He was a bit calmer. Too calm for his standards. At first, they brushed it off as tension and nerves. They were playing at nationals, after all.

But then they started noticing more and more. The way his eyes followed a certain manager longer than usual. The way his smile turned almost shy when talking to her. Hell, if he could have, he probably would have giggled and kicked his feet from how giddy he looked. And they had just… never seen him like that before, not with such evident heart eyes.

He was no stranger to getting crushes. To parading around declaring, “I think I’ve found the woman of my life,” only to cut to him drooling over someone else the next day.

This, though, was different.

And it was as clear as the summer sky. Noya had a big, fat crush.

SNAPSHOT 3

Graduation came fast. Too fast. The memories blurred together. Glimpses of Sugawara, Daichi and Asahi coming back to see them and maybe, just maybe, shedding a tear or two, despite being only a year older. 

Glimpses of Kiyoko talking to a very flustered but noticeably more laid-back Tanaka. The two having a somewhat normal conversation. 

And then, them.

Even the old group, Kiyoko included, despite her usual quiet nature couldn’t help but comment.

“Did Noya and Y/N have a falling out?” she asked in her usual calm, collected voice, though a tinge of worry slipped through.

“It’s complicated,” Tanaka sighed softly, his gaze drifting back to the duo who were trying, badly, he should add, to avoid looking at each other.

“Something happened. Even I don’t know the whole story. Noya refuses to open up. I suspect they dated in secret for a while, but it’s unclear. They never confirmed or denied it. But one day… the atmosphere in the gym was tense, they weren’t even talking. Even Coach Ukai was worried. Eventually, she quit being a manager before the season ended.”

SNAPSHOT 4

As the years passed, the once Karasuno High members went their separate ways. Some went to college, others straight into work, some pursued volleyball careers. A few even got married.

Despite the distance, the group never failed to see each other. Not always with everyone present. More than once, if Noya was there, you weren’t. And vice versa. Whether it was fate or a deliberate choice, the others never quite figured out.

But time went on and things changed. Eventually, at some point, you two started showing up at group hangouts at the same time. And once became twice. Twice became thrice.

Things weren’t like before. But they weren’t bad either. And the most perspicacious out of the bunch, was able to pick up on the shift that was happening. 

They had all moved on, met new people, become new people. Yet despite the years, despite looking so much like their younger selves, just a little older, they weren’t who they used to be.

Loud personalities had softened, though they still carried that familiar explosive energy. Quiet and introspective ones had grown more outgoing. But at the core of it all, they were still the same bunch of kids from a school in the middle of the countryside, chasing a dream.

Just without a volleyball this time around. 

And despite the years on their faces, now in their late twenties, things were good. Their shared group chat was livelier than ever.

Especially now.

December 31st. As everyone, whether still in Japan or scattered across the world, sent their early New Year’s messages, one in particular made the chat explode.

From: Noya, 00:20

To: All

→ one attachment

Happy New Year, everyone! From Rome with love. (P.S. She said yes, by the way ❤️)

Attached was a picture of you two, smiling in front of the Colosseum. You were showing off your ring, a hint of a soft fading purple bruise on your neck and cheeks caressed by glistening streaks of happiness.

From: Hinata, 00:21

To: All

“WAIT A MOMENT, SINCE WHEN WERE YOU TWO TOGETHER?!?!?! WHAT DID I MISS, GUYS, WTF.”

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[maybe-a-dinosaur]

seijoh bus to and from away games or whatever they’re going somewhere what’s going on

iwaizumi hajime right side aisle seat earbuds in eyes closed straight back against the seat. dont let it fool you he looks asleep he is never asleep he is always vigilant. there’s yelling and throwing shit around him probably he never acknowledges Any of it still as a statue but the Second anyone tries to mess with him prank him draw a mustache or whatever he opens one eye and Glares. he has a sixth sense he just knows he’s burning a hole through whoever he’s looking at they’re far too scared to try anything now. he’s bumping music he’s getting his head in the game but he Never lets his guard down. mr cool calm and collected slash always on his villain origin story arc. this is his default state.

oikawa tooru next to him by the window. he wants the seat cuz he wants to look outside as they’re driving he dreams of a dramatic movie moment gazing out the window as it rains and wistful music plays in the background but he can’t just sit there for longer than a minute nono nonooo he’s a busy man. he spends maybe 1/4 of the ride looking out the window/checking his social media/maintaining his composure and the rest of the time he’s head over the back/front of the seat or laying across hajime (or stealing one of his earbuds) to join a conversation across the aisle. he Insists on window seat but just Has to interact with people throughout the entire bus he makes his inconvenient location everyone else’s problem it’s kinda great. announcement for the team he kneels on his seat bc standing is a little too unsafe he projects his voice a little louder than necessary tells everyone to drink water Right Now or everyone runs extra laps at practice tmr. getting off the bus before a game he closes his eyes takes 3 deep breaths makes sure he’s the last one off the bus no one is left behind he’s so ready.

hanamaki takahiro back of the bus next to issei usually aisle seat they mix it up sometimes but always back row. he can’t stay in a single position also tall mf his legs don’t fit in the seats catch him pretzel twisting. his default state is feet up on the back of the seat in front of him like slumped down feet planted knees at acute angles. when he’s in his own seat he also hits the feet propped up on the armrest of the seat across the aisle sometimes he’s criss cross sometimes his legs are on issei’s lap sometimes he manspreads or straight out legs crossed tripping people in the aisle he just can’t sit right. he stays in his seat for the Most part but also bounces around just generally causing trouble he often sings too loudly and finds ways to put shit in tooru’s hair. his earbuds are tangled in his bag if he wants to listen to music he steals issei’s or plays music out loud like hood on resting bitch face slouched in his seat phone balanced on his thigh paramore on aux. his name is signed somewhere on every single seat on the bus plus some other places good luck finding them all.

matsukawa issei perpetually next to takahiro. often window seat but that’s on hiro’s whim issei sits wherever hanamaki doesn’t. he spends a lot of time looking out the window spacing out he will give his opinion in bus-wide discussions or color commentate conversations going on around him (much to hiro’s enjoyment). he blinks lethargically when tooru’s head Appears over the seat to look down at him they chat for a while they’re discussing tomogatchi until hanamaki starts kicking the seat and oikawa complains and iwaizumi starts yelling. on really long trips issei will forgo the seat and sleep on the floor generally at least half of his body is in the aisle when circumstances become dire he uses his shoes as a pillow (socks stay on tgif). headphones always on his person always playing music not always in his ears he leans his head against the window bsbbshdnemmwlelfoejehnemmmrrpppp sits up breathes on the glass draws a penis. he is a simple man.