#soccer coach problems

[moonsnqil]

aftg au where bee adopted andrew and later aaron when they were teens. she owns an apple orchard that the twins and occasionally a few of the foxes help run but it's almost harvest season and she needs help prepping everything for the town's fall festivals so she decided to put up a help wanted ad. neil, tired, alone, and running out of options, decides to apply. bee let's him use the renovated barn loft as residence when she learns he's homeless. andrew is wary, his family means everything to him and neil is a flightly little thing that could only bring bad news, but something about neil is familiar. maybe it's how he checks all his exits or how he flinches when people touch him or how he cradles the key bee gave him in his palm like it was a treasure instead of a piece of metal. he asks neil for truths and it's like bleeding a rock but he finds neil is more willing when truth is reciprocated. they spend their days walking down the lines of apple trees, harvesting and talking, and andrew is only a little mesmerized with the way neil's auburn curls blend with the red of the apples and his eyes match the sky like something deliberate, like he was meant to be here. andrew thinks that maybe he doesn't hate how neil looks at him like he's worth something. andrew thinks that maybe he doesn't want to lose this. he's still learning how to accept that not everything is transactional, he doesn't need to make deals to keep people close, hes still figuring out how to want things without the fear of them being snatched away. his mind screams at him to turn away and push any feeling aside but then neil is handing him an apple and smiling and telling him stories he says he's never told anyone else and andrew doesn't think he deserves this but he wants it

[uswnt-has-my-heart]

I am absolutely livid about our loss to Sweden, mainly because a bunch of assholes are using this as an opportunity to harass the team, especially our beloved P.

i’ve seen a bunch of people saying that they lost because they were too focused on politics, and my only thought is, “where have you been??”

[ssahotchnerr]

omg could you maybe write something about reader going to one of jacks soccer games and all of the moms are jealous of her bc she’s with hotch

not so friendly competition

omg i absolutely can cw; fem!reader, jealous suburban moms, one tries to make a pass at aaron, established relationship, small angst?, pettiness, aaron being adorable <3 wc; 1.3k

from the moment you arrived - a hand clasped in aaron's, jack excitedly sprinting ahead the two of you - you could feel the target on your back.

the warm, refreshing morning suddenly felt quite stuffy. as if strangely enough, there wasn't enough air to go around. the feeling especially solidified when aaron gave you a sweet, parting kiss - him off to uphold his coaching duties, you off to find a spot on the grass to set up your chair.

you half expected it, the feeling out of place and self consciousness; this was jack's second season playing soccer, aaron's second season coaching, and most of the players had returned from last year. long story short, and entering a relationship with aaron only a few weeks after jack's season had concluded, you were the new face.

not only that, you were missing a common trait amongst the others. you weren't, by definition, jack's mom.

it was a silly, technical notion, and it was quite possible you weren't the only outlier, but you simply wanted to belong there just as much as the others. to feel as if you belonged.

and that's definitely not how you currently felt.

despite your perception - hoping you had falsely and quickly misjudged the atmosphere - you offered the moms a smile and a hello as you got settled. you got maybe one, two responses in return, before they resumed their ongoing conversation without you. any hopefulness that remained, deflated as you sat there silently.

and while you weren't exactly listening to them, you could still make out bits and pieces of their conversation. however, your ears fully perked up at the mention of aaron. which also brought you into the discussion.

"you're with the coach?"

her question wasn't based on genuine interest, a getting-to-know-type basis, a friendly conversation starter. but, it was rather accusatory, as if you'd done something detrimentally wrong.

you nodded, your eyebrows furrowing briefly in confusion. "yes?"

"like... with him?"

oh.

the standoffish environment wasn't due to you being unwelcome, or, at least not in the way you had previously anticipated. it was jealousy, plain jealousy. they must've spent all of last season ogling aaron, and here you were, getting in the way.

again, you nodded in confirmation. a few grimaces were produced amongst several faces, igniting something deep within you, suddenly feeling very protective of aaron and your relationship.

you casually shot back, relentlessly, "why, is that a problem?"

the mom shrugged, pulling her eyes from yours annoyingly, as if you'd done her an injustice.

she didn't stop there though, uttering something under her breath. while you didn't hear what it was exactly - the low tone definitely indicated she had just insulted you in one way or another.

and choosing to remain on the civil side, you held your tongue.

the whispers continued sparingly; as much as it stung, and as much as the red-hot feeling that had settled in your body was uncomfortable, why should you let it affect you? they weren't a threat, they were suburban moms - probably peaked in high school, probably relied off their husband's salary, probably thought they were better than each and every person they came across.

you could be annoyed, but you weren't worried. the bigger picture, you had what they wanted; you had aaron. you've already won, despite any fights they attempted to pick.

"i need to stretch my legs." the same woman abruptly said, loudly to gain your interest.

she promptly rose, walking towards the team's bench. or more specifically, right up to aaron.

she was quick to strike up a conversation with him - overdramatizing her already-shrill laugh, displaying open body language, the sweetest smile she could muster up.

what did you in, a 'friendly' touch to his arm before she retreated, whenever she finished saying whatever the hell was so important she had felt the need to interrupt his coaching for.

and throughout such, aaron appeared as his typical friendly self as he engaged with her, as expected. although a look of confusion did flash across his face when she graced his arm.

your jaw clenched in anger, but you kept reminding yourself: her actions were just to spite you, just to piss you off, and you refused to give her the reaction she seemingly so desperately craved.

so when she returned, with an awfully smug look plastered on her face and dropping into her chair with a sense of pure satisfaction, you kept your focus forward. you came to watch jack's game, and that's exactly what you were going to do.

but during the mid-game break, once aaron had finished talking with the kids and they sprinted back onto the field to practice some goals, did you approach him.

"hi sweetheart," aaron mumbled into your skin as he kissed your temple, one of his hands comfortably finding your back. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, offering him a timid smile.

"what's wrong?"

"nothing." you lied, tucking yourself into his chest. you took a deep breath and sighed, smelling the traces of light sweat and grass clinging to him.

"you don't think i buy that, do you?" he asked, a gentle, almost comical tone to his words - all to lighten up your present tension. "what is it?"

you shook your head, "i don't want to talk about it..." your eyes shot over to your new best friends, whose eyes were glued to the two of you. "here."

aaron glanced over at them, profiling immediately. "are they giving you a hard time?"

after a moment's hesitation, an annoyed huff escaped you. "let's just say they're not too happy that the coach is taken."

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly, his face scrunching the smallest amount in confusion. "half of them are married."

"clearly that doesn't matter, they're still over there undressing you with their eyes." you arched an eyebrow, the scowl on your face only deepening.

"c'mon, you're too pretty to make that face." aaron lightly teased, kissing your pout gently. at the touch, your face did relax, the ends of your lips itching to turn upwards into a smile.

"oh they're gonna hate that you did that."

aaron shrugged, kissing you again. "let them."

you surrendered yourself to your smile, but you still frustratedly crossed your arms in front of your chest. "it's ridiculous."

aaron was quick to untangle your hands, holding onto them and applying a gentle squeeze. "you know you don't have competition. you have me."

"i know. that's why i feel so stupid i'm letting it bother me." you gritted through your teeth. "what did that one woman even say to you?"

"truthfully, i couldn't tell you. i wasn't paying attention." he answered honestly, his eyebrows drawing into a line as he even attempted to mentally recall it.

you couldn't help but laugh, pressing yourself more into him. "you're insufferable."

"i try." aaron joked, but his expression switched tactics, to genuine concern as he moved in front of you, "in all seriousness, are you going to be okay?"

"yeah." you brought your hands to his chest, running your thumbs against his pecs affectionately. you already were. "i have you, don't i?"

"and you could always stay here with me." aaron playfully, but earnestly offered. "and be my beautiful, thoughtful, astounding, beautiful assistant coach."

"you drive a hard bargain," your eyebrows rose, feeling his chuckle underneath your fingers. "but it's okay. i'm not gonna let them think they're running the show, or that they can step on me like that." you shook your head. "and as needed, i might have to flaunt you around."

aaron grinned, proudly. "that's my girl."

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

What we know about each Yellowjackets character’s life before the plane crash

Shauna

Not a lot is known about Shauna’s childhood, but it definitely seems like she had an estranged relationship with her parents. It is confirmed that Shauna’s parents divorced when she was younger. Jackie mentioned that Shauna lied to her about her father’s sudden absence, saying that he was traveling a lot because he had become the new president of Hello Kitty (aww Shauna). This suggests that, after the divorce, Shauna had little to no contact with her father. Additionally, Shauna never even mentions her parents in the adult timeline, which may imply that she is no longer on speaking terms with either of them. Further emphasizing this distance is her childhood bedroom, which appeared to be in an attic. Whether she chose to sleep there or not, this detail speaks volumes about how separated or neglected she felt by her family.

Shauna had been best friends with Jackie since grade school, although their relationship was strained by jealousy and Shauna's feeling of living in Jackie's shadow. Nevertheless, their love for each other ran DEEP (a little too deep). Shauna’s jealousy of Jackie led her to lose her virginity to Jeff, Jackie’s long-term boyfriend, behind Jackie’s back. The night before the crash, Jeff and Shauna slept together again and she became pregnant with his child.

We also know that Shauna was a straight-A student and received admission to Brown University right before the crash, and she was a very good soccer player (she was very fast according to Coach Martinez!) even though she apparently didn’t even like soccer.

Shauna was most likely a Defensive Midfielder on the soccer field, given that her jersey number was 6. This means that she was in charge of acting as a shield in the midfield, breaking up attacks, covering teammates, and intercepting passes.

Jackie

Jackie appears to have come from a wealthy family given how massive her house was (complete with those fancy mansion columns). She was an only child and lived with both her parents. Jackie’s parents seemed to put a lot of pressure on her to be perfect, and we see that they tend to brag about her achievements (even after her death), which highlights their high expectations for Jackie’s success. Jackie’s mother may have had a dependence on prescription drugs, as she mentioned that her mom was on “ten different kind of downers”, some of which (Valium) Jackie stole to fall asleep on the plane.

Jackie was popular in school and was the captain of the Yellowjackets soccer team (more expectations that she had to live up to). She was said to possess great influence over others due to her natural leadership skills and magnetism. She had been dating Jeff since freshman year, although she mentioned having broken up with him multiple times, so it seems like it was a tumultuous relationship. She refused to have sex with him due to wanting to make losing her virginity special. Jackie planned to go to Rutgers for college and be roommates with Shauna.

We can assume Jackie was a forward/striker on the soccer field due to her jersey number: 9. This means her primary role was scoring goals.

Natalie

Out of all of the Yellowjackets characters, Natalie’s life pre-crash is explored in arguably the most detail. We learn that she came from a low-income family and lived in a small, cluttered trailer with her parents, both of whom appeared to struggle with drinking and drug problems. Her father worked a blue-collar job, possibly as a mechanic, given the (tire?) patch on his work shirt, while her mother, Vera, seemed to stay at home, often drinking and sleeping throughout the day. We also know that Nat’s father was physically and verbally abusive to her and her mother.

Nat’s best friend was Kevyn Tan, whom we first see her with when she is 14 or 15 years-old, although it seems like they had been friends for a while before that. Kevyn had a significant crush on Natalie, which she was unaware of. When Nat was 14 or 15, her father found Kevyn in her bedroom one day and berated Nat, thinking that they were sleeping together. This escalated into her father beating her mother, prompting Natalie to grab a gun and attempt to shoot him. However, she forgot to take off the safety. Her father then took the gun but accidentally shot himself in the head after tripping on the stairs.

It is strongly implied that Natalie's mother blamed her for his death, as she makes comments in the present day like, "You never know what you have until it gets ripped away from you." This suggests that Natalie had a cold and distant relationship with her mother.

It appears that Nat spent much of her high school years experimenting with drugs and sex to cope with her guilt and had gained a reputation at her school for being sexually promiscuous and a “burnout.”

Somehow she ended up playing soccer, and she was likely a right midfielder or winger given her jersey number: 7. This means she was in charge of attacks in the midfield and passing the ball to other teammates closer to the goal.

And one more interesting detail: Nat was definitely a hardcore feminist in her teen years, as we can see riot grrrl posters all over her childhood bedroom walls.

Travis

We get very little information about Travis’s life before the crash, but we know that he lived with his father, Bill, his little brother, Javi, and his mother. Travis stated that his father was “a shit dad” who “didn’t even like him,” so he clearly did not have a good relationship with his father. Additionally, before leaving to get on the plane, we see that Coach Martinez leaned in to attempt to give his wife a kiss goodbye, but she turned away and appeared stiff. Travis rolled his eyes at this. My guess is that Coach Martinez cheated on his wife and Travis knew about it. His parents’ relationship was strained after the affair but they stayed together for the kids, and Travis resented his father for it. Just definitely seems like the context behind that scene.

Travis seemed to hold some resentment towards Javi as well given his harsh treatment of him even before the crash, perhaps because he received more attention and care from their father. We also know that Travis was bullied since 7th grade after he had spinal fusion surgery and Bobby Farleigh made up the rumor that he got one of his ribs removed to perform…certain acts on himself, earning him the nickname “Flex.”

Van

We got a brief scene in the pilot episode of Van’s home life. Like Natalie, Van also appears to have come from a low-income home. Van’s father was likely not involved in her life, as Van’s mom seemed to be the only option when she needed a ride to the airport and her father was never mentioned. Van’s mother was an alcoholic, as she was laying passed out on the couch and Van had to slap her to wake her up. It seems like Van had to take on a parental role with her mother and likely had to raise herself for the most part. In the adult timeline, Tai mentions that Van had always had a strained relationship with her mother.

Van went to New York City once for her 7th birthday and wanted to do the carriage ride in Central Park, but she was taken to see Cats instead. She dreamed of going back to NYC and doing the carriage ride ever since.

Van is the Yellowjackets’s goalie, and it seems like she and her teammate Taissa had a romantic relationship before the crash (or were at least flirting a lot).

Lottie

Lottie’s pre-crash life gets explored in a little more detail. Lottie grew up in a very wealthy family. Her father, Malcolm, is a businessman who seemed very strict and controlling. Lottie’s mother, Emilia, seemed more soft and understanding of Lottie’s potential gifts. We see that, as a child, Lottie often experienced strange visions, including a time in which she started to scream in the backseat of the car while her parents were at a red light, which ended up preventing them from getting into a car crash when the light turned green. It is implied that Lottie experienced these visions often. Lottie’s parents argued over the nature of these visions, with Malcolm saying that Lottie had psychological issues and needed to be fixed, while Emilia argued that Lottie had a gift for seeing the future. Lottie was placed on medication for schizophrenia, and she is seen taking this medication the morning of the crash.

Lottie had a disconnected relationship with her father. It seems like he never understood her and neglected her as a result. It is implied that he wasn’t around much due to his work. Lottie said that her dad paying for the private plane to take the Yellowjackets to Nationals was “basically his only form of parenting.”

Lottie, according to Coach Martinez, is a talented soccer player with great footwork. Lottie is likely a Defender on the soccer field, given her jersey number: 5. This means she was in charge of keeping the other team from scoring goals and stopping attacks.

Taissa

Tai appears to have come from the most well-adjusted household among the group. She lived in a nice home with both of her parents, who seemed supportive, as shown in their brief interaction in the pilot episode. Her mother offered to drive her to the airport, while her father was cooking breakfast. He reminded Tai that "the most important thing is to have fun," which conveyed a sense of care and encouragement. Despite this, Tai was always intensely focused on success and hard work. As a star player on the soccer team, she was implied to be the best player, according to Coach Martinez.

When Tai was little, her grandmother got sick and Tai often visited her on her death bed. Not long before her grandmother’s death, she saw a “man with no eyes” in the mirror of the bedroom and began to scream. Tai saw this man, as well, and also began to scream. At her grandmother’s open-casket funeral, Tai noticed that her grandmother’s eyes were missing.

Tai was likely in a romantic relationship with Van before the crash.

According to the Pilot episode script, Taissa is the star midfielder of the Yellowjackets. Her jersey number is 8, also supporting that she is a Central Midfielder, which is often considered to be the most difficult position on the field. This means she acted as a link between defense and attack in the midfield.

Misty

Misty was clearly a social outcast before the crash. She was bullied throughout her school years. One classmate, Becky, frequently targeted her with prank phone calls, spreading rumors and mocking her with her friends. During one of these calls, Misty quoted Plato, hinting at her intelligence and academic inclinations. Misty clearly loved learning and equipping herself with knowledge, as she obsessively took Red Cross babysitting classes, had a great deal of medical skills, and paid close attention in Coach Ben’s health classes. Misty always craved the feeling of being useful and needed by her peers. This was most apparent in the scene where Allie broke her leg—Misty was the first to spring into action, trying to help, although her attempt was unsuccessful.

We can also see that Misty may have always had some sociopathic tendencies, as she is seen watching a rat struggle and drown in a pool with no emotion on her face the morning before the crash.

As the Yellowjackets’ equipment manager, Misty didn’t play soccer herself but still found a way to be involved with the team. Her responsibilities likely included maintaining equipment, ordering new gear, and issuing uniforms to the players.

[sunshineandspencer]

Jolene

A/N: I’ve managed to get sick and the thing that roused me from my deathbed was hearing Jolene and going ‘yes, this applies to a Hotch fic, my people need me’ if it doesn’t make sense, blame the headache.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Girlfriend!Reader.

Summary: She desperately tries not to think that way about his ex-wife, but seeing them interact hurts way more than she thought it would.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: established relationship, cutesy nicknames, Haley is alive, barely-negative self-thoughts, angst but a happy ending

be added to the taglist!!

“I can easily understand how you could easily take my man, but he’s the only one for me, Jolene.”

Some part of her knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d powered through it. Aaron had kissed her softly in the kitchen and told her that it would all be alright, slowly moving her to the stairs so that she could get ready.

Smacking her ass and laughing as she yelped, disappearing into their bedroom to get dressed.

They’d been together nearly three years now, only about a month until their third anniversary, and he promised something big - but that’s not important right now.

Jack has a big soccer game this afternoon, his team - little league but still important, as both men swear to her - had made it to whatever the ‘finals’ were. Aaron coaches his team, and as much as she tries to keep up, sports have never been her thing.

Despite this, she attends every single game and cheers no matter what’s happening. Plus, she gets the added bonus of seeing her boyfriend in a loose shirt and shorts, a rare and delicious sight. All the other moms have learnt that Aaron is taken, considering he comes over to kiss her whenever he can.

Honestly, Aaron is perfect. 

Even with his job, she doesn’t mind at all. She’s a photographer, and so she does all her editing work from home, and even when she does need to travel, she does it around his work and Jack’s school times. Occasionally bringing them with her, or just Jack when Aaron is away.

She absolutely loves their little family, and every single moment they spent together, and knew early on that days like this couldn’t be avoided forever.

Of course, she knows that Aaron loves her, he tells her more than enough and he still thinks he’s lacking in that department. But he loves her so desperately that he easily makes her feel seventeen all over again.

So Aaron is not the problem, but she is.

Haley, his ex-wife. The woman divorced Aaron, and moved on a lot quicker than he had, but that’s not the problem, people move at different speeds and she fell out of the marriage a lot sooner than Aaron did. The issue that she has is seeing them together with Jack.

They’re so.. picture perfect. Clearly a family. To the point where it hurts.

Haley is utterly gorgeous, and ageing has only done her wonders. Of course, she knows that she’s also aged pretty well, but not as well as her. 

The woman exists as if the phrase ‘fine wine’ was made just to describe her, and the quiet sting of jealousy hits deep whenever she and Aaron interact. It isn’t very often, thank God, but it still sucks.

The way she still talks to him so casually, as if they were friends who didn’t have an eight year marriage between them, it sets her on edge. It feels like she believes if she wanted she could easily stroll back into Aaron’s life. And why wouldn’t she?

She’s stunning, she’s Jack’s mother, there’s nothing stopping her from taking Aaron all over again.

Except the fact Aaron has reassured her that Haley is nothing to him anymore except the woman who gave him the greatest gift in his life bar his “wonderful girlfriend”, and she believes him. God- it feels so wrong to feel jealous and small when he’s told her that Haley is nothing. It feels like she’s doubting him, and it’s not that she’s trying to, she can’t help it.

How could she, when his ex-wife looks like that?

“Where’ve you gone sweetheart?”

Blinking softly, she looked up from where Jack was excitedly talking to his mom about all the goals he scored - uncaring that half were own-goals.

Aaron had come over to sit next to her, and hesitated from placing his usual peck to her lips when he found her so lost in her own thoughts. Moving to sit next to her and immediately place a hand on her thigh, squeezing softly and pressing his thumb into her flesh by the hem of her dress.

“Nowhere, no I’m- I’m still here.” He gives her a look and she sighs, leaning in to kiss him and grumble unhappily against his lips. “Everyday you make it harder and harder to like profilers.”

Humming, he kissed her a little firmer than usual and she pulled back, looking at him confused. Not that she was complaining, but he usually had a reason.

“She may be his mother, but Jack loves you just as much.”

Her heart seized, hating that he was able to figure her out so easily, but not surprised anymore. Reaching to squeeze his hand where it still rested on her thigh and turning to look at him fully.

“Aaron, I--”

“I mean it dove, we love you. She’s had her time in my life, and that’s over, you are the only one I want for any foreseeable future.”

A bright smile drew up on her face, the one he so loves drawing out because it means that she’s getting over whatever bothered her. 

He’s not stupid, he knows how much that bothered her at the start, and it had calmed down slightly over the years, and she believes him completely. Convincing her brain to believe him, however, had been the most surprising thing to try and overcome. For her, however, he’d reassure her everyday for as long as it takes.

With her hands smoothing up his arms to thread into the hair at the nape of his neck, that little bashful smile overcame her face as she got closer. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Careful there Hotchner, or someone might think you’re proposing to me.”

He huffed out a small laugh and wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her even closer, kissing her deeply. Not caring that there were other moms watching and awing, or Jack making fake throwing-up noises, even though he really doesn’t mind.

Only pulling back to brush his nose against hers, smiling down at her and watching the way she couldn’t decide which eye of his to focus on.

“Just wait sweet girl, I’m not having you ruin my surprise.”

Want more?! Good!

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[leilanihours]

# HAND UNDER MY SWEATSHIRT, BABY, KISS IT BETTER // YOU DREW STARS AROUND MY SCARS

pairing: paige bueckers x soccer player!reader

word count: 631

warnings: descriptions of blood, cuts, that kinda thing

summary: paige takes care of you after you get hurt during practice.

⭑ from lani: this was originally written for...someone else...but i changed it bc well...anyways! 🎀 not proofread either cus im not home oops

masterlist !

"I GOT HER, coach," your girlfriend says as she puts a protective arm around your waist. you lean on paige with your arm resting on her shoulders, steps staggered as you try not to apply pressure to your right leg.

a burning pain shot up through your body with every heavy step you took, the gaping cuts overwhelming your body with discomfort.

you had just played in a nasty scrimmage during practice, taking a particularly rough fall on the field in the process. one of your teammates assigned to guard you in the drill had been a little too rough, resulting in the blades of grass digging into your skin and cuts to scatter across your knee.

"let me know if i'm hurting you, alright?" paige says with a hushed voice.

she was currently disinfecting one of your many cuts with delicate hands, cautious not to press too hard on certain areas.

you were grateful for paige’s presence at your practices. even if she was just sitting in the stands watching or making small talk with your coaches, her simply showing up in her little free time meant the world to you.

"ima kill that girl," she whispers to break the silence.

"please don't."

"she ain't even say sorry, though. that's crazy to me."

"it's part of the game, p, it's okay," you laugh, "she's still my teammate."

"nah, i know, but she just walked away like nothing happened. like, she still coulda apologized,” she finishes, covering the cut skin with bandages.

"my guard dog," you joke, stroking her cheek as she rises from her position to face you directly.

her hands rest on your thighs as you sit on top of one of the bathroom counters in the girls' locker room.

her fingers lovingly stroke the skin under your now untucked shirt, as if they had the power to heal you in an instant. and in that moment, you believed that they did. the way they slowly traced tiny stars on your waist distracts you from the burning sensation cursing your skin.

on top of that, the way she's looking at you with undertones of frustration and concern makes you feel utterly safe and protected. that's just how paige was. she would truly go to war for you, and she never had any problem showing it.

"how you feelin', ma?"

"better. it didn't hurt that much to begin with, though."

"damn, we've been together how long and you still think you can lie to me?" she smirks, tilting her head.

"i swear i'm not lying," you giggle as she begins to slowly kiss the nape of your neck.

both of your voices are hushed and delicate, as if any raised sounds would disrupt the peace that had become a shield against your shared world.

you close your eyes in relaxation, the whole scene providing you with a complete sense of comfort despite the circumstances that brought you here. as long as you were with paige, you would feel at home - because she was your home.

"let's get you some rest, yeah?" she whispers, placing a final kiss to your jaw.

you nod as she helps you down from your place next to the sink. you slowly make your way over to your locker to get your belongings, laughing and shaking your head when your girlfriend rushes forward before you can even attempt to haul your own bags.

and somehow, despite paige looking like a hotel bell boy with the amount of stuff she's carrying, she still manages to rest a hand on your waist supportively.

it was clear to you, and pretty much anyone with eyeballs, that paige would quite literally do anything for you - no questions asked. and, of course, you would undoubtedly do the same for her.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[martinluvrr]

CRUSH CRAZY | PAIGE BUECKERS

⋅˚₊‧ paige x fem!physio

⋅˚₊‧ summary: the new physio of the Uconn Wbb has caught the eye of their golden player, but it seems Paige has become a little... crush crazy.

⋅˚₊‧ warnings: hoping none

⋅˚₊‧ duayaps: i hateee thisss but its been sitting in my drafts so i finally finished it 😭

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

"AND BEFORE YOU TAKE THE PILLS MAKE SURE YOU ATE SOME FOOD" I said to Azzi. It's been about 2 weeks since I started working with her, the Uconn medical staff have been nothing but welcoming.

At first, I didn't know what I was getting myself into, where I come from basketball isn't a big enough thing the way football is ( soccer ). I also didn't spend that much tie on social media, but as soon as I opened tiktok, tons of edits filled my page, most about Uconn and other teams. There were especially edits of Uconn's number five.

Paige Bueckers.

The girl was attractive. And she had the confidence to prove it. Me and Paige had very little contact together , but even if it was for a second, for some odd reason, my stomach was filled with butterflies.

"Thank you again" Azzi's sweet voice said. I turned around to look at the girl, after she underwent surgery for tearing her ACL during practice last November, there was still a little pain in the leg, but nothing that should stop her from rejoining the team in January. Of course, left out from not being in the action.

"No problem and please be careful ,i dont wanna se you anymore, you're boring' I jokingly said to her, she let out a laugh. I heard a chuckle behind me, when I turned, there in all her glory, number five.

"Hi Paige" I muttered, suddenly becoming shy.

"Hey" She said grinning. "Soooooo..."

"Paige" I said sternly, hiding my smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I was just checking up on Azzi" She told me, cracking a small smile at Azzi. I hoped the disappointed wasn't showing in my face, the delusional part in me was hoping she just came to see me.

"Well she's all yours"

✰

"Coach" Nika yelled, suddenly at Geno. "I don't feel so good"

"What happened?" Geno questioned her, making her sit down. She was fine 10 minutes ago.

"I feel like I'm gonna throw up" She said, staring at the ground. Coach felt Paige come beside him. "You okay?" Paige asked, Nika shook her head.

"Maybe we should call Y/N" Paige said, Nika nodded. Geno looked at the both of them, did they hit their head?

"Y/N's a physio, she doesn't deal with stomach problems" He explained, then he heard a cackle come from behind them. KK.

Now he got it, just before Nika came up to him, she was talking with Paige and KK, the three of them whispering amongst one another. Knowing Paige and her little crush, he could figure out that she put Nika up to this.

"Try telling me that again after suicides, maybe i'll believe it then" He said,trying to hide his smile, both Nika and Paige groaned. KK struggled to hide her laugh, scratch that, she didn't even hide it.

"Girl Boo, maybe next time" She said to Paige, laughing.

✰

Practice was over, and everybody was tired. Most of them half a sleep, including Paige. While they were used to their morning practices, Paige had a late night.

"Nah I'm going pick up something from Y/N real quick" She hard Aubrey say. Hearing Y/N name, Paige was awake real quick.

" I'll come with you" She offered, the locker suddenly filled with laughs. Her teammate agreed but not before teasing her with the rest. After getting ready, both of the Uconn basketball players made their way to the medical wing, Paige was nervous, she was always nervous to see Y/N. Suddenly feeling insecure, Paige smelled herself, stressing because she's sweaty. She heard her teammate laugh. "Bro relax" Aubrey reassured her.

When they finally stood in front of Y/N's office door, when Aubrey saw that Paige was still in a bit of a daze, she took the honor of knocking on the office door. When they both heard a sweet voice yelling come in, they followed her orders.

"Oh Hi" I said surprised to see both of them here. Aubrey replied greeting me back, but Paige, just stood there staring at her, grinning like a maniac. "Hi P" I said to her.

"Hey" she replied. Before i could ask what she was doing here, Aubrey caught my attention, asking about her meds and if she could take lighter ones. I replied to all her questions, asking if she was feeling okay or if she needed a checkup. While i talked to Aubrey, i could feel Paige's eyes on me at the side of my head.

As Aubrey left, i expected for Paige to follow her, but the blonde didn't move. "P, do you need something?" i asked her.

"there's this party tonight , you should stop by"

Was Paige inviting you as a date? no.

"Okay, text me the details and i'll think about it" i kinda accepted her invite. Tonight i already made plans with my roommate, i don't think its a good idea to cancel those just because i want to see my crush. I also didn't want my hopes to be up.

While Y/N thought about that, Paige was beaming with excitement on the inside, if Y/N did show up tonight. this was going to be the night where she made her move.

✰

She didn't show, she. didn't. show.

In Y/N's head, she didn't think not being at that party was a big deal. she assumed Paige was just being nice inviting her and she definitely didn't know that P was disappointed.

Today they had normal hard practices, and today was actually the final time Paige tried to get Y/N's attention. no like actually the last time.

As she dribbled the ball, suddenly she dropped the ball, and dramatically fell to the ground. Ice let out a laugh, but while she knew what Paige's plan was, Geno and Y/N didn't.

I gasped, seeing Paige suddenly on the ground, she was fine literally 10seconds ago. Quickly running over, followed by the rest of the coaching staff.

“Can u get up by yourself?”

“I can try”

okay good sign, good sign. it’s not broken.

“To my office” I instructed both Nika and Paige. While holding on to Paige, giving her a bit of support.

When we arrived, I made Paige lay down. And started testing her knee. It seemed fine, actually perfect.

“Maybe we should get another opinion, I don’t think my brains working properly”

I can’t seem to find out whats wrong, she says her knee hurts, but the tests i did make her look perfect.

“Ummm Alright” i heard her hesitate. Her voice slightly nervous.

“Paige”

“Yeah”

“Are you… not injured?”

“Kinda” She answered.

I furrowed my eyebrows, making me think back. Maybe she didn’t want the pressure or she just wanted an excuse out of practice.

“Paige if you are using this to get out of practice well you’ve got another thing comi-”

“Im using this as an excuse to see you” She cut you off.

“What”

“I’ve literally been giving you hints all year and you’re telling me you didnt know i liked you?”

“Well no” I answered honestly. When i finally met her eyes, a small smile took over my face. Her sad face turned hopeful.

“I like you too P” i said “You couldve just asked me out and this wouldn’t have had to happen”

“Don’t even try to turn this on me ma” she started ranting, you just laughed and stood there watching. Okay so you weren’t delusional.

✰

[octuscle]

From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

[johnbrand]

Building a Roster

With @dansformations

Danny was more nervous than he had ever been before. All he had to do was knock on the door. Correction: all he had to do was knock on the door of Chad’s apartment. Correction with full explanation: all Danny had to do was knock on the door of Chad’s, the popular athlete he had a massive crush on, apartment.

It had come out of the blue really. The two had never hung out before, just shared a few classes here and there. So when Chad had invited Danny over to watch some soccer, Danny had replied with an instant “Yes!” Awkwardly tall and skinny, Danny hoped the shorter, muscular jock was asking him out in a sort of discreet way. But those hopes came crashing down once Chad opened the door.

“Danny boy, you made it!” Chad cheered, tossing an arm over Danny’s shoulder before leading him inside. Chad was shirtless, allowing the sweaty bush of hair within his armpit to soak the corner of Danny’s long-sleeve shirt. Had he not been transfixed by Chad’s bulky, hairy torso, or the party of many other just-as-attractive dudes, then Danny might have questioned how Chad knew he was at the door.

“Just in time, the match is about to begin,” Chad chuckled. Danny, enchanted by the pure testosterone of the room, watched as all the jocks organized themselves in front of the television. They joked with each other as the game began, boasting about their most recent sorority conquests and directing butt blasts at each other. Danny’s lust was slowly weakening, the apartment's evident stench of heterosexuality creeping in.

“Take a seat, bro,” Chad motioned to the chair beside him at the dining table, his massive, bare feet propped up right in front of the chair.

“I don’t know-”

“I said, take a seat bro,” Chad ordered, and instantly Danny obeyed. Chad redirected his attention to the game, but for some reason Danny could not focus on anything besides the feet in front of him. They were vile, funky, dirty, and obviously uncared for. Danny had never found feet attractive before, but he could not help himself from leaning in closer. He could see every spot of dead skin, every droplet of sweat. He could only wonder what the gigantic soles smelled like...tasted like…

“Yeah, that’s it…” Chad grinned, not looking away from the television as the homo’s tongue began to run along his feet. All the other guys in the room were too absorbed in the match to know what was happening behind them. “Just keep licking, it won’t be much longer now until we have a full roster.”

Danny’s mind had simply turned off, his only concern to clean the godly soles in front of him. When Chad had transferred to the university to become captain of the soccer team, he had not known the board had already discarded the team due to declining interest. “You know how American schools are,” Coach grumbled when Chad had confronted him about it. “Besides, we barely have enough men to make a qualifying roster.”

That sent Chad on a mission. He wanted to play soccer, be the captain of a team. If that meant putting together a crew for his university, then so be it. He had had no problem creating jocks in the past, but only one or two at a time with the nerds who had truly pissed him off. Over these past few weeks, he had already transformed 15 college losers into grade-A stallions, 16 if you counted the current fag at his feet.

Speaking of which, Chad decided to check in on Danny’s progress. Since the licking had begun, Danny had already packed on a considerable amount of muscular weight. His jaw was looking sharper, his overall frame hairier, and somehow (over the stench of all the other men in the room) Chad was able to detect a new degree of masculine body odor. Flexing his toes a bit, Chad registered the amount of life force that had been drained from his newest jock. He sucked his boys pretty dry. Chad wanted each of his jocks to be malleable to his and Coach’s standards and morals, but also not too far gone that they could not handle simple day-to-day tasks.

By the look of it, Danny was about done. When Chad eventually pulled his feet away, he heard Danny’s own now-monstrous stompers bouncing excitedly on the floor. Perhaps Danny could be his future sweeper.

“Danny boy, look at me,” Chad commanded, guiding the vacant pair of eyes towards his own. “You don’t like my feet, in fact you don’t like men. Bros only go for hoes, remember?”

Chad could practically watch the cogs rotate and realign in Danny’s washed-out brain.

“Good boy, now go watch soccer with the other bros and study up. Soccer is your favorite thing in the world now, and if you want to play, we need to focus all our energy on it.”

“All…our energy…” Danny mumbled, his voice much lower and slower than before. Like a zombie, the newest jock trod over to join the rest of the men. At first, the others did not know what to make of their newest companion, but after Danny let out a juicy fart, they applauded and welcomed him into the circle. It would take a few days for Chad’s feet to get dirty enough for the next recruitment, but he knew he was close to fulfilling his dreams.

[tenjikufag]

Blue lock, Isagi, mutual pining and fluff ending with smut?

Love-Sick

Yoichi Isagi x Male Reader

-mutual pining, oblivious dorks, fluff, smut ending (no penetration), teammate!reader,

-thank you for the request! I am definitely projecting when it comes to the practice part, sports are hard. -ex athlete

Yoichi Isagi.

The male stood beside you, squirting water into the side of his mouth. You were kneeling down and tying your cleats, being sure to tighten the laces snugly

“Flashy cleats you got there.”

He laughed lightly, looking down at the colourful sports shoes with bright laces. You only hummed, gazing up at him as you stood up and adjusted your jersey.

“Yeah, gotta get noticed some way.”

“Don’t think your skills are enough? I think they are.”

He was being truthful, he admired your skills and your work ethic- you were so particular about how you practiced that even walking on the field was a no go for you, he would watch you as your brisk jog across the field entertained him in-between drills.

You had been someone he’d wanted to catch up to ever since he met you, in every aspect of life. You were smart, you were sociable, you were good-looking, and at the very heart of his admiration you were athletic and determined.

Everything he could ever want in a partner, really. And god did he want you to be his, he could never imagine himself settling for someone that wasn’t you- and that’s what it would be! Who is content with settling when what he wants is right there?

But, that was the problem. You were right there, and yet he couldn’t stake a claim on you.

Stretching his arms over his head, he shook out his limbs before following behind you to join practice.

He stood in line behind the others on the team, watching as you demonstrated the drill as the coach instructed- he couldn’t help but focus on the way your body would flex the muscles in your legs with every sharp step and turn around the spaced out fluorescent cones. Along with the rest of the team, a low grumble of understanding was heard as you jogged to the back of the line with him, his half focus on the next in line but the other half was on you and how you caught your breathe.

“Those cleats makin’ you any flashier?”

“Ugh, I wish. Did you see me almost clip my ankle up there?”

You said in a hushed voice, in hopes to not get yelled at for talking. Really, he didn’t notice. It looked so smooth when you did it, in contrast to the teammates infront of him looking almost rigid trying to remember the sequence of steps and strides.

He was next up.

And his mind blanked, maybe he should have been paying attention to the actual drill and not just how you looked.

“Yoichi! Come on, get moving!”

The coach called out, noticing his stalling. The boy nodded, trying his best to remember the sequence- he’d give it his all even if he got it wrong just to try and impress you and not look dumb..

“What the hell are you doing?! Back of the line!”

He cringed, plopping down his foot heavily as he walked to the back of the line…

It was going to be a long practice.

By the end of it, everyone was panting heavily and hunched over their knees trying to catch their breathe.. you were still happily talking away between breathes to your other teammate.. isagi squinted, watching as the other boy seemingly blushed at whatever you had said.

In truth, you were both talking about your crushes- your teammates on a girl classmate of his and yours on Isagi, no one really cared if they knew you liked guys but Isagi didn’t know. Not yet, at-least.

You had liked him for quite some time, playing with him for atleast a couple of years and knowing eachother outside of soccer only made this crush harder to let go of, the love and adoration you felt for him only growing day by day. Hell, probably even minute by minute if you really gave it thought.

“Dude, you should just ask!”

“What if it doesn’t go well? What if I get rejected?”

Isagi perked up, the dispersion of bodies making your voice more clear in his ears. His heart couldn’t help but beat faster, he’s gotta know!

“Rejected? Who would reject you?”

You felt yourself pale, your teammate almost busting at the seams trying to contain his laughter.

“Hey! Quit laughin’!”

With a solid shove, you sent the laughing boy to the ground where he only continued laughing at the cliché predicament.

“C’mon Y/n! Tell ‘im!”

Isagi crossed his arms, pouting.

“Yeah, tell me! I am your friend!”

You looked over at him with wide eyes, jaw almost slack with surprise..

You couldn’t tell him! Not here atleast, you were both sweaty and gross- and you didn’t even have an idea of what to say!

“Whatever, my ride is probably here- I’ll leave you to it.”

Your teammate laid his hand on your shoulder, mumbling something Isagi couldn’t hear but it made you blush and drag your hand down your face.

“Anyways, you wanna stop by the convenience store with me? I’ll tell ya on the way.”

Isagi nodded, following you to the benches to grab your bags and switch out of your cleats.

“God, do you ever wash that thing ‘sagi?”

You grimaced watching him put on a familiar pull over hoodie. It smelt faintly of old sweat and obviously doused in whatever cologne he used.

“It’s my practice hoodie.”

“I can smell that!”

He laughed, pouncing on you with a hug to tease you with the smell. You pretended to gag, pleading for him to let you go.

“Let’s go! I want some Gatorade and chips!”

The two of you walked side by side in a comfortable silence, the typical routine after practice was just this then you’d take off in opposite directions on most days but since it was the weekend and there was no practice tomorrow- sometimes you’d go over to one of your houses.

Isagi was hoping you’d stay the night at his place, his family wasn’t home and the two of you would have the whole space to yourselves.

“So who’s the one that’s gonna reject you?”

Curiously, he glanced over at you and saw you flinch- the bag of chips crinkling in your hand.

“You remembered that?”

Scratching the back of your neck, you sighed and mumbled a “in a bit.” And he left it at that, both of you paying for your snacks and stuffing them in your bags.

The two of you stepped out of the convenience store, you already half-way done drinking what you’d bought.

“Alright, I’ll tell ya but I gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

Isagi nodded, his eyes big with curiosity and hope.

“How do you feel about me liking guys?”

“It’s a guy?”

“Yep.”

You popped the ending vowel, looking at passing cars while swirling the half full drink around the bottle.

“That weird you out?”

“Oh, uh. No, I may like guys too- but no I don’t have any problem-“

“Cool. When we get to the stop light I’ll tell you then.”

The stop-light was where the two of you would typically separate and it was roughly a block away.. he wanted so badly to question further but you kept quiet. Your brows were tightly knit together in thought.

If he could hear it, your heart would sound like the biggest drum in the world being played- you were almost worried about it. Isagi wasn’t any better but he hid it a lot better.. he thought maybe you were just shy about the whole thing.. when you said you liked guys something in him leapt for joy, he had a chance if you actually got rejected!

He’s methodical, he would swoop in to make you feel better then maybe he would be able to swoon you enough to be his. It really was a foolproof plan in his mind.

It went quiet, no cars, no people, the walk signal red to halt pedestrians. It felt like his heart would stop with everything too.

“You sure you wanna know, Isagi?”

He nodded deliberately, clutching the straps to his bag tightly in his hands. You smiled, looking up at the timer.

10,

9,

8,

7,

6,

5,

4,

3,

2,

1,

“It’s you, Isagi.”

Your bright smile stretched across your lips, your feet taking you towards your house.. he stood in place, trying to comprehend what had just really happened.

You like him back?

For how long?!

He could have been already dating you?!

Even if it felt like he took years, he was quick to grip your wrist and pull you back to him. You initially wanted to pull away, afraid he was going to berate you but when you saw his shy smile.. you knew he had something else in mind.

“Come over to mine?”

—

You laid pinned to his bed, the familiar scent of him on his sheets and the leeching energy of need filling your heads.

He sat ontop of you, kissing you like you would disappear if he stopped; gasping for air in-between every kiss but never daring to pull away. Drool clung to the corner of your mouthes, the kisses wet and sensual while he swerved and circled his hips against yours in need of some type of friction.

“You.. need… to stop..”

He only moved to grind on you more, now moaning into your mouth. Your tongues prodded against each other, he was clearly inexperienced as were you but it was a chance to learn how to love, how to love each other in an intimate way.

With your hands messily running through his hair, he finally pulled away with a gasp- breathing just as hard, if not harder, than at practice. The once pale skin was flushed a bright pink, his eyes glazed over with what you could only see as arousal.

“Woah, I don’t.. think we should go that far. Not yet..”

His hands were already fumbling at the hem of your shorts, his big eyes looking at you, begging to atleast see and touch it.

“Please?”

Running your hand through his thick black hair, you sighed and nodded lightly- hands quick to pull down your shorts to your knees. His eyes widened a fraction, never seeing anyone’s but his own dick.. with a lick on his lips he lowered his face down to really inspect it.

“I’ve never seen anyone else’s..”

What? With the way he was so quick to undress your bottom half you had imagined he’d.. done it before?

“Really?! Are you sure you want to do this now?”

With a determined nod, he took your member into his hand- it was warm and he liked the way it pulsed and got firm in his grasp.

“Have you done this before?”

“Uh, yeah. A couple times but-“

He sneered, a pang a jealousy coursing through him at the thought of someone else having seen you like this before.. and he shut you up before you could tell him anymore.

“I’m going to be better than them.”

The confidence in his voice made a chuckle reverb through you, hand petting his head in reassurance.

“I’m sure you will.”

“And I’ll be your last, the victor. The best..”

As much as you wanted to laugh, a light hiss of satisfaction ran through you first- his tongue taking an exploring lick up your shaft and flicking your tip.

He experimented, running his tongue around your dick and making notes of which part elicited a reaction from you. Coming off your tip with a pop, he gave a long, slow, lick up the bottom side before taking the plunge and shoving you into his mouth- his tongue licking against the sensitive spots.

“Fuck!”

Bucking your hips, he gagged at the sensation of you in the back of his throat. He wanted to come off, catch his breathe and relieve the momentary nausea from the action but he kept himself suctioned to you.. remembering the porn he’s watched throughout the years and the random sex talks among his more horny counterparts as he tried breathing through his nose.

It made a word of a difference and his eyes widened, pleased with his research paying off before he began bobbing his head up and down.

“‘Sagi.. I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer..”

He hummed, big blue eyes looking up at you.. he wanted a taste. It was his first time after all.. and he’d heard it could be addicting to swallow your partners load, he didn’t know what to expect but he hoped it was nice..

“I don’t think… you’re gonna like it..”

You warned, lightly tugging at his hair to lead him off. He swatted away your hand, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance- he wanted it and he’s gonna have it.

You fairly warned him, it wasn’t but seconds later that you twitched in his mouth and unloaded deeply in the back of his throat.

He gasped, gagged, and choked, the load being far bigger than he expected but he tried his best to actually taste it before it went down his throat. He popped off, your soft dick now laying against your stomach.

He frowned, you sat up and began apologizing but he sat up and licked his lips

“I didn’t get to taste it properly..”

Your mouth gaped open, he was deadly serious. With a hard blush, you covered your face

“You can’t be serious..”

Sighing, you seamlessly switched positions with him- he was too deep in his thoughts to comprehend that you’d pulled down his shorts, only refocusing when he felt a hand jerk his cock a little bit.

“What’re you doing?”

“You don’t think I’m gonna let you sit around hard all night do you?”

With a deadpan face, you kissed his tip. He flinched, the unfamiliar sensation making his abdomen burn instantly.

“I’ve never…! Gotten a blowjob! Hah, fuck!”

You already had almost all of him in your mouth, he was perplexed at the sight of his dick poking out the side of your cheek. He was embarrassed, admittedly but the roll of your playful eyes eased the anxious tension he held.

When you pulled off momentarily, you spat on him and jerked him slowly.

“Just sit back and relax, I don’t bite. Not here, at-least.”

With a smirk, you took him in your mouth and connected your eyes with his- he intently watched how you followed your mouth with your hand, making sure every inch of him was taken care of and touched. He moaned loudly, head thrown back at the wet and warm tongue that swirled around the head of his dick.

Without warning, he came. And he came a lot.

You too, swallowed his load but didn’t choke or gag like he did. He looked down at you briefly, one eye shut as he tried to refocus on you.. that was the most intense orgasm he’d ever experienced and the biggest load he’s ever produced.

He felt a slight jealousy in him again; who else got to experience that with you before him?! Who taught you, how many dicks have you sucked before he got to you? It was envy, really.

Smiling up at him, you crawled up and hugged him- leaving a soft peck on his cheek.

“So..”

He looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“We boyfriends or what?”

He looked at you, almost offended.

“I would like to be your husband but yeah, boyfriends, husband later.”

You both blushed at what he said, he went to correct his blunt, but truthful statement but you shut him up by squeezing him tightly in a hug.

He felt.. happy. A new kind of happy, it was warm and fulfilling. He was almost mad that you didn’t confess, or more so he didn’t say anything, alot sooner.

[wosostories]

Heath Sisters PT 2 (USWNT x Teen!Reader)

Masterlist

USWNT X Teen!Reader

Tobin and Y/N make it to camp.

This is a Reader story with Y/N, but I wrote it in third person because that made more sense in my head.

Part 2

“Where are they? I swear if we miss lunch because of these two I’m going to be so mad.”

“Calm down Kelley I’m sure that they just hit a snag and got caught up with something. Coach checked and according to the notice that she got, they got on the plane.”

“I know, but I’m hungry.”

“You are always hungry.” Ali looks back towards the exit to the luggage claim where the sisters would be exiting from. She spots two girls, one of which is pointing them out to the other. “I think that’s them.”

Kelley’s head shoots in the direction that Ali is looking and starts bouncing on the balls of her feet as the sisters make their way over. 

“Hi my name is Tobin and this is my little sister Y/N. 

“H-Hi.”

“Nice to meet you both. I’m Ali and this is Kelley. We are your ride to the hotel.” She glances down and notices that they only have a couple of backpacks and one small bag between the two of them. “Do you have all of your things?” Y/N’s gaze immediately finds her feet while Tobin shifts uncomfortably. 

“Ya, about that. They lost Y/N’s bag and sent it to Florida. They are just sending it back to New Jersey because it won’t get back here before we leave.”

“Wow. Do we need to stop anywhere before we head back to the hotel? The mall? Target?”

“No, we need to get back to the hotel. We don’t want to miss lunch.” Y/N's head shot up at the mention of food. 

“That's ok we can pick something up.”

“No, it’s fine. We can worry about it later. I know that we are already running late.”

“If you're sure. I just want to make sure you have the time before we get too busy.”

“No yeah it’s fine. I’ll get it all figured out.” 

Ali nods and they all head out to the car. Kelley drives them all to the hotel. Jill is waiting for them in the lobby as they make their way inside. 

“Hello! I’m coach Ellis. Tobin it’s nice to see you again, and you must be Y/N.” She nods her head and subtly grabs the back of Tobin’s shirt. “Why don’t you guys head to the meal room? There is still about 15 minutes left of lunch, then I’ll give you your room key and you’ll both have some time to settle in. First team meeting isn’t until after dinner." She leaves them to go grab lunch while they still have time. The group of four make their way into the room and find a table pretty easily since everyone else already ate. Lunch was benign served buffet style with chicken sandwiches and veggie burgers being the main course. 

“You’ll have to be one of the first ones here to get the good stuff, but even this won’t be bad.” Kelley informs them. 

Tobin leads her sister over to the food and helps her make a plate of a chicken sandwich and a salad. Tobin makes an identical plate and they start to dig in as soon as they sit down. 

“You think that you hadn’t eaten all day with the way you two are eating.” Kelley teases, Ali slaps her arm and shakes her head to tell her to knock it off. 

“We were running late and didn’t have time for breakfast so we haven’t.” Tobin’s lie rolls right off her tongue in response to the observation. She had been doing it long enough to cover up their money problems that she no longer has to think about it. 

“What about snacks on the plane?”

“They only had peanuts and Y/N’s allergic.”

The two of them are so distracted by the food in front of them that they don’t notice Ali observing them between bites of her own lunch. When they finish they find Jill to get their room keys and head up to settle in. 

“What are we going to do about clothes?” Y/N asks softly.

Tobin lets out a sigh, “I’m not sure? We don’t have the money to get you new clothes.” She sighs again, “I’m sorry Y/N. You’ll have to wear your soccer gear and some of my stuff while we’re here. It’ll be too big, but it’s better than nothing.” Y/N nods and walks over to her sister. 

“It’s not your fault. It’ll be ok. It always is.” Y/N hugs her sister and pulls her down on the bed. 

“Nap time?”

“Nap time.”

Part 3

[ssahotchnerr]

What if a drabble about this https://twitter.com/bxnksi_/status/1754954693329998141?t=QfzPSplktYI04Owlt-gzSg&s=19 I just know hotch's gonna be taking that kiss IMMEDIATELY like no thoughts. He'll be like, "screw my point and kiss me".

priorities

this cw; bau!reader, established relationship, kissing, light suggestion, brief arguing into fluff, 6x22 references - this relates to aaron coaching jack's soccer team <3

the team's prying eyes couldn't help but be directed upwards as they attempted to work, due to the visual of you and aaron going at it through his office window. your hurried and raising voice also drifted out his slightly ajar door from time to time.

"it's not fair to you aaron." you insisted, mentally urging him to stop being so stubborn and understand your point. "i get that they need a coach, and it's wonderful they thought of you, but you're too preoccupied."

aaron scoffed lightly, crossing his arms as he leaned back against his desk, "preoccupied?"

you gave him a look - c'mon. it was a rather accusatory word, you'd admit it, but he knew what you meant. "the league should be resolving their own problems."

"isn't them asking an attempt to do so?"

"but it's not your problem, or is it your responsibility to accept. i know you feel obligated to and," you reached out to touch his arm affectionately, reminding him you were on his side. "it's so sweet of you to jump at it. but please think about it realistically."

aaron exhaled a breath of his own, turning his eyes away from yours in a subtle eye roll.

"aaron," you gaped at him, your frustration quickly turning into annoyance. "you're in the fbi. you're a unit chief, for god's sake. don't you think they should ask someone who's not on such a strict, unpredictable schedule? what happens when you can't make it to a practice? to a game?"

as you fired off all the reasonings, even throwing in the example that jessica did swing by once to pick up jack upon getting a call for a case - aaron fell quiet, knowing you were right.

he felt obligated; being unreservedly himself, he wanted to be the one to step up and take the initiative. jack's soccer team deserved someone willing and wanting to provide their undivided attention as coach, given majority of the parents were more preoccupied by their phones than watching their own kid. focus - he could provide such.

another convincing factor, being coach would provide him more time with jack. these days, the fact jack was growing up, rapidly, was slowly sinking in. before he knew it, aaron would blink and jack would prefer to do anything else than to hang around his father.

but again, from a realistic standpoint, you were right. trying to navigate a soccer team with his crazy schedule would be extremely difficult; the potential aspect of not being around, and then potentially not being able to find reliable cover - an inevitable, ongoing complication, despite how badly he wished he could manage it.

aaron hadn't meant for this to turn into a disagreement either. to be fair, he had just returned from a meeting with strauss, which always amp'ed up his disposition in one way or another.

but now you were getting heated, and as you thoroughly stated your case, aaron's eyes involuntarily kept flicking down to your lips. the more he attempted to avert his eyes away, they only lingered more.

and not wanting to argue further, he quickly surrendered to his own argument, the only thought beginning to maintain importance was how badly he wanted - no, needed - to kiss you.

"go ahead, say it."

your remark regained his attention, "say what?"

"i know that look, so go ahead." you crossed your arms, huffing a frustrated breath of air out of your nose. you had mistaken his lack of focus for another impending, contrasting detail of his, "say it."

"kiss me."

your expression changed at once; irritation shifting to a softened confusion. "what?"

"what? do you want me to beg?" aaron tossed out, a glint surfacing in his eyes and warming you from the middle out, "fine, you're right, forget about it. now kiss me."

you opened your mouth to respond, but aaron took that as an opportunity to weave his fingers through the belt loops of your pants, pulling you strictly against him and pressing his lips to yours.

once your initial surprise wore off, and focusing on how soft aaron's lips felt on yours, you kissed him in return with just an equal amount of gentle vigor.

you pulled away, your mind attempting to resist his everlasting temptation, bringing your index finger to his chest. "this isn't resolvin-"

but aaron chased your lips, immediately pressing his back to yours and stopping you mid-sentence. you reciprocated eagerly, sighing softly against his lips in content as your fingers found hold on the sides of his suit jacket.

"you're absolutely ridiculous." you laughed against his lips, providing one more chaste kiss before successfully pulling away, your cheeks flushed.

"am i?" he quipped back, rather playfully as his eyebrows rose, a cheeky expression plastered on his face - one of which only made you want to kiss him wildly.

"yeah, you are." you bantered back, exhaling to ease yourself back to the real world, which aaron also assisted in with his next statement, dropping the matter yet again.

"i'm still expecting your supplementary report on the houston case by the end of the day." he said, his hand sliding down your back and patting your ass, playfully urging you to get a move on. "get back to work."

you nearly released an audible groan but instead rolled your eyes, bringing yourself to peck aaron's lips once more. on your way out, you tossed over your shoulder. "this discussion isn't over, you know."

due to your restrained line of vision, you missed the small smirk of his lips. "and if it ends similarly, i'll be looking forward to it."

[thydungeongal]

Re: D&D being the only game where rules knowledge is looked down upon... I honestly think there are a lot of things that are accepted, if not expected in D&D culture that would quickly get you labeled an asshole in any other hobby.

Like, a while ago, I found a thread on r/rpg about the all-too-common problem of players actively refusing to engage with the story, ignoring plot hooks, etc. A shocking number of replies boiled down to "it's the GM's job to make sure the story is interesting" and eventually I made a post saying "imagine signing up for soccer practice, going to soccer practice, putting on your soccer jersey, and then sitting down at the edge of the field and playing on your phone, and when the coach tells you to get up and play, you just tell them that it's their job to motivate you to play. like, by signing up and coming to practice, you kind of implicitly said that you're motivated."

Or imagine going to a Friday Night Magic event, telling people you're new to the game, and every time someone wants to explain the rules to you, explain what your cards do, or displays knowledge about what *their* cards do, you tell them to stop being a gatekeeping rules lawyer.

Imagine playing an MMO for months on end, and still constantly asking your guild leader what YOUR character can even do.

Imagine joining a community theater, and complaining that the props, sets, and effects aren't on par with Broadway productions.

Imagine genuinely using sentences like "I need to keep my friends on a short leash" or "I can't trust my friends to make good decisions" or "I need to be an asshole to my friend because they need to be taken down a peg" in literally any context.

Seriously, I agree with all of this. And to that last point, the fact that those phrases are treated as haha funny memes in TTRPG spaces is grating. We should just play fun games with people we respect and not conspire to make things bad for them!!!

[g1rld1ary]

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

[theresascove]

can you please do like protective lynn loud? i don’t know anyone else that writes for her on here so thank you for your service🫡🫡

her protective nature ₊ ⊹

lynn loud x f!reader

you go up against Lynn when your schools play against each other—the known competition between the two schools enacts foul play, causing you to get injured.

tw: not proofread, established relationship (dating), protective!lynn, soccer player r & lynn, injury (r receiving, twisted ankle), Lynn pushes someone, lynn is able to carry r, fluff, hurt/comfort, can be high or middle school, bit of cursing

wc ✎ 1.2k • thanks for the idea! I love writing for her, there needs to be more!

Whenever a game rolls around, there’s an increase in pressure from the coach—especially when it’s the known game between your school and Lynn’s. She’d bringing it up often, using it like rage bait at random times whenever you were playing a game so you’d get more competitive.

It was up until the night before the game. You were over at her house, laying beside her on her bed, head resting on her bicep. Her focus was on her phone, but her finger drew shapes on your shoulder.

The feeling light and fleeting, drawing softly on your skin chasing goosebumps to rise.

“Lynn,” you call, voice no louder than a whisper. She felt you shuffle in her hold, ears picking up on the call.

“Yeah?”

You brush hair out of her face, hoping she’d put her phone away and look towards you instead, “our game’s tomorrow,” you singsong.

She laughs, throwing her phone down and twisting to wrap herself around you, “nervous about it now?”

“No need to. I’ve seen you play.”

You laugh when she shoves you.

The day came so soon. You are just resting in her bed, cuddling to fight out the cold that raged outside. Now the last school bell rang, echoing through the halls. Bag in hand, you walked out towards your locker room. Some of your teammates were already there, throwing on their jerseys. Wasn’t long before the whole room was like a flood of blue—the bright color almost overstimulating you.

“Lynn’s outside,” your friend whispers passing by you, a playful smile as she smacks your shoulder, “go talk with her.”

She stood in her red jersey, a complete contrast from you. You crossed the concrete sidewalk, meeting her on the side standing on the grass.

“Just wanted to say good luck,” she pulls you into a quick kiss, “you’ll need it.”

Turns out you really did. You’ve watched Lynn’s games before, hell you’ve even met a few of her teammates—so why did it come as a surprise when the game had your lungs burning for air.

You were 4-1, Lynn’s school having an increased number due to her—quite literally. You stood near the end of the field, hands on your hips—chest heaving. Lynn had a smile having barely broken into a sweat. She tosses the ball back into the game, yelling out to one of her players. You sighed, picking the pace to walk down the field as it was passed around.

Your legs, already sore, screamed at you when you started to prep for the ball racing towards you. Vision blurry and snapping everywhere, you weren’t able to move around when red snapped in your vision—a cleat sneaked between your feet, pulling between your legs. Your right foot twisted and you dropped like a fly.

Your back snapped against the ground, a high pitched hiss escaping you painfully. The grass was wet and cold against your back, the feeling sliding around you when you fell onto your side—hands gripping tightly onto your leg to stop the pain around your ankle. The field lights had been turned on, shining bright and almost blinding you when you looked up.

Lynn had left the game, moving down the field to come close with the girl that had tripped you. She had her teammate stumbling in the same way you had a minute ago, palms of her hands stinging from where she roughed her onto the field. In the back, you faintly heard her dad yell out her name.

“The hell is your problem? Rolling out a foul fucking play like that?”

The ref held a hand out, holding her back. She hadn’t yet looked to you other than when she watched the whole scene unfold. She tried pushing down the ref’s arm, but he wasn’t allowing her to get anywhere near the girl. Your school’s medic had her hands under your arms, pulling you to balance on one foot.

“Can you try to walk on it?”

You shook your head, eyes closed when the world moved in waves, “no. I think it’s broken.”

“Hopefully not,” she shifts her hold, “try setting it on the ground for me.”

Your foot settles onto the grass fine, but any pressure added to it hurdles you to the edge.

“No,” you say, breathing out shakily, “no, it hurts.”

Lynn comes into view, pushing past the medic to hold where she was. She has her jaw clenched, but her eyes hold a warmth.

“I’m going to move you to this bench okay?”

Each step—limp—brings a pained expression onto the face and nails digging into her shoulder. She crouches in front of you, hand on your thigh as the medic talks you through a medical procedure. The medic’s fingers were cold, removing your shoe and angling your foot around.

Any time you flinched, jerking away from the medic—Lynn was steeling you, hands holding you still while she hushed you.

“I’m sorry,” she would say each time, vision staying on either your face or your foot.

“Okay,” the medic stands, “seems like you’ve only twisted it. Just stay off of it. Ice it, elevate it. Should take two weeks to heal if you follow through what I’ve told you now, okay?”

She hums when you agree, moving back elsewhere to probably talk to other school admiration or your parents who were somewhere in the stands still. Lynn rubbed your hand with her thumb, eyes locked on your face. It was scrunched in pain, bottom lip dropped open to breathe slowly.

“Talk me through how you’re feeling. Are you okay if I carry you back to the car?”

Your mind shut off at the offer, but you kept it under qualms. It was so bright when your eyes opened again.

“Yeah, that’s good. I don’t think I can walk right now, I feel dizzy.”

“Yeah bet. Your head hit the ground pretty hard when that bitch—“

“Lynn,” you huffed and she shrugged, standing and helping you up.

Both of your family’s met you, discussing how they wanted to go about the night. Best plan was driving you back home so they can wrap your leg and get you rested already. There wasn’t any reason to stay—especially with how Lynn kept looking back to the girl, it would be better to leave the premises.

She carried you with ease back to the car, you laid on her back—hands on your thighs. Wasn’t long before she had you laughing, turning the frustrating and embarrassing situation into something comedic.

You were settled into your parent’s car, in the back seat. She moved with such care and ease, ensuring your comfort. Before the car door shut, she leaned in to sneak a kiss.

“Message me when you get back home.”

The next day you overheard your parents talking about how Lynn got evicted from school for a day for taking a punch at her teammate. You would scold her later, but now it brought a proud smile to your face.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Prom

Hello!

This one is from a request, I hope it will please you as much as the others. I'd like to really thank all of you for your kindness it really mean very much to me. My life isn't really easy for now and writing help me a lot. I'm glad I can have someone to read my work here ♥

It's only fluff in here :)

______________________________________________________________

You just can't help it. You just can’t fight the force of attraction that constantly clings your eyes to Ona’s silhouette. This girl was a great player, charismatic, very kind and smiling. But she also had the gift of being both particularly cute while being frightfully sexy. You fell for her the second your eyes landed on her. She came to your school early this year for a school exchange. She’s supposed to finish school here and was recommended to be on your high school soccer team. Enough to say that she quickly demonstrated her qualities, so much so that the coach decided to appoint her captain. A nomination that could have attracted problems with other girls, but they were all quickly aware of Ona’s qualities.

You, on the other side, you were the captain of the cheerleaders, so you have the chance to be able to watch her play every game. Since you frequent the same places, you were quickly brought to discuss together. And you found yourself falling even harder.

Your sexual orientation doesn't question anybody, you have long demonstrated your interest for girls only. You don’t know for Ona though. She has never been in a relationship since she arrived here and she seems not to be interested in all those who have tried their luck. Always with her eternal sweet smile, she dismisses them kindly before shifting her attention to football.

You had an incredible chance anyway, because of your catastrophic results in Spanish, your teacher offered to ask Ona to give you private lessons. You agreed and so did Ona, but it didn’t help you get close to her because in the way you wanted because you find yourself blushing and feeling particulary stupide every time.

But eventually your work payed off and it’s with a big smile that you find the Spanish girl in the corridors of the school, shaking a paper in front of her face.

"What is it?" she asks with a smile, her voice making strange things in your belly everytime, before grapping the piece of paper. "Madre mia Y/N a A-?"

You don’t answer, just nod with a big smile. You’ve never scored as high as this one and you owe it to the brunette.

"Felicitaciones!"

She jumps happily before hugging you and kissing your cheek. And here you are again, blushing red like a damn tomato.

"Muchas gracias" you smile, hopping Ona didn't realise your blush. "But I still need your help though. I have a writing for next week, would you mind?"

"Of course not. I have training this afternoon but can I come tomorrow?"

**********

Tomorrow being friday night, you propose to Ona to come for diner and work on your essay afterwards. Your parents aren’t here like pretty much every Friday night, both of them being part of a club with all of her friends. Well it's literally an excuse to meet them and have drinks, but you pretend not to realize it. Your older sister is out too with her boyfriend, like every Friday night too.

"How was practice?" you ask Ona, erasing a deleted sentence on your page.

"Good, good" the other girl answer absent-mindedly.

She was standing behind you in your room, looking at the pictures and the posters hung on the wall. You can’t see it and look over your shoulder. She turns her back on you and is admiring the one with your best friend, dating from this summer. You and she had managed to get her parents to take you with them, and this was probably the best vacation of your life.

Realizing that your gaze lingers a little too long on her arms and her butt, you suddenly shift your attention to your writing, cheeks burning.

"I think I’m done" you mumble a few minutes later, scratching your head.

"Let me see"

Ona answers you softly and comes back to sit next to you. You don’t move when you feel her knee leaning against your thigh, trying to ignore the heat wave that seizes your entire body. The attraction you feel for her becomes ridiculous, especially when a look in her direction tells you that she does not even seem to have realized.

"It's pretty great actually. You just made one or two grammar mistakes, but otherwise it’s fine. Your progress is really impressive"

"I have a very good teacher"

Ona looks at the sheet that she is correcting to send you a smirk and you almost faint. Jesus Christ this woman.

"Done!" she says soon after with another smile.

You thanks her again and a glance at your phone inform you that it's pretty early. Even if you would appreciate more than ever to spend extra time with Ona, you do not know under what pretext to propose her to stay. But she doesn’t get up from your chair though, leaning on the backrest and gently turning it from side to side.

"So, what’s on tonight?" she asks and you shrug.

"Nothing really. I have to stay to watch the house"

"Alone?"

"Yeah? Sometimes Hannah comes too, but tonight she was busy"

You see Ona’s look for a few seconds on the photo she was looking at earlier, representing you with your best friend on the beach. And she turns her attention back to you.

"You both seems very close"

"Yes, I mean I know her since we are five but it’s like she’s always been part of my life."

"Are you together?"

A few seconds pass during which you look at Ona, digesting the surprise of her question. Then you end up laughing a little before shaking your head.

"Like together, together? Nah, she's like my sister. Plus she's straight as a die."

Ona nod and you put the mess on your desk together, now that you’re done studying.

"So if I ask you to go to the prom with me next week, it might not hurt anyone?"

Holly mother of god. You gather feverishly the papers you dropped under emotion and you have to clear your throat to chase the feverish in your voice.

"No one will be hurt if you ask me" you mumble shyly before adding "Except maybe all your pretenders who are rushing to the gate."

Ona rolls her eyes.

"Would you? Come to prom with me?"

You raise your eyes on her face to make sure she’s not joking. But that doesn’t seem to be the case and you even manage to see hope in her eyes. As if it were possible for you to hesitate for a second.

"I'd love to"

**********

Maybe it’s a little cliché the captain of cheerleaders going to the prom with the captain of the soccer team. But honestly, you don’t care. You don’t know how the rest of the school could have known so quickly about Ona's request, but it seems like by Monday most of the others students were already aware.

You may have seen different reactions from your friends, most of were happy for you. You didn’t expect, however, that some would show jealousy by asking aloud what had pushed Ona to ask you to accompany her. You haven’t been able to speak so much to the Spanish during this week, both of your training sessions require special attention given the advanced championship.

But you have to admit that these hallway gossips and these kinds of remarks altered your confidence so much that you ended up writing to Ona in the middle of the week to make sure that she still want to go with you.

You - Hi Ona. Sorry to bother you. I just was wondering if you still want to go together at the prom?

Ona - Hola! Of course, why? Ona - Have you change your mind?

You - Not at all, just asking. You - What will you wearing?

Feeling the questioning of the other girl, you quickly changed the subject under the pretext of being able to coordinate your outfits. You didn’t want her to realize the insecurities you can have sometimes. You are the cheerleaders captain, you know perfectly well that if you let the slightest thing appear, it can quickly turn against you.

Ona told you that she will pick you at 8, and here you are, looking at yourself on the mirror of your bathroom. The more you look, the more you feel that the outfit you have chosen is not the right one. But you don't have time to think about it any longer, because soon the bell rings and you hurry to the entrance. Your parents and your sister are home and you don’t necessarily want them to bother Ona today.

You scream a goodbye and slam the door, making your way to Ona's car. She’s waiting for you and her vision takes your breath away. She’s perfect, whether it’s her outfit, her haircut, her makeup. So perfect that you want to cry. You will never be in her league. Yet she slowly approaches you with a big smile.

"You are beautiful" she tells you while extending her hand to go with her towards the passenger door.

" You’re the on to talk" you answer, biting the inside of your lip.

You almost make a comment about how many will be jeslous of you when the will see you to her arm, but you hold back. You already hinted that last week when she invited you and you don’t want to be too annoying.

A comfortable silence settles between you and you smile as you hear her humming the song passing on the radio. It's only a few minutes later that Ona breaks the silence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"How did you end up captain of the cheerleaders?" asked Ona, glancing at you. "No offense, but you don’t have the same characteristics as your teammates. You are not superficial, you are not selfish, you have respect for everyone… It doesn't fit so much in the usual codes, you know?"

You look at her for some seconds, thinking about her question. You already know the answer, but you're thinking about the way you can say the things.

"My sister was in the team, my mother was in the team... I guess I just wanted to show them that I can make it too."

You shrugs, before looking at the window. You didn't mean to say that your mother or your sister are superficial and all, but you don't really have the same vision of things.

"Do you even like it?"

"Somehow. It has some advantages. You can met interesting people"

You glance at her and she intercedes, your answer seems to make her smile. It makes you smile back despite the slight heat that once again invades your cheeks.

You arrive a few minutes later and once Ona has parked, she hurries around the car to open your door. You thank her with a smile and look mechanically around you. You notice glances at both of you, but your attention is quickly diverted by Ona’s hand which gently settles in the hollow of your back to train towards the entrance. As light as a butterfly, her hand on the fabric of your dress is pleasant and you refrain from leaning against it.

The evening passed at the speed of light and you had an incredible time. You still don’t explain yourself how you just didn't ignite on the spot. You and Ona danced during the evening, her hands on your waist giving you the impression that your legs turned into jelly. Every touch, every glance or smile brought you a little more to fall under the spell of the Spanish. It’s been a long time now that the stage of crush seems to be over, you are completely crazy about her.

Ona was closer to you physically than ever and you allowed yourself to look at her a little more strongly. You got lost in her eyes and yours landed several times on her lips.

But you are now going back home, in the same comfortable silence as before. The only difference is that this time your hands are intertwined on your leg and you play mechanically with the fingers of the young woman. You arrive a little too quickly to your liking and you shift your attention to the latina when she turns off the engine.

"Thank you for inviting me. I had a great evening" you smile softly, reluctantly leaving Ona to recover her hand.

"Me too" answers Ona smiling before undoing her belt. "I take you home."

Coming out of the car, you slowly follow her to your front door. The lights are off on the ground floor, but the one on the floor tells you that your parents are not sleeping yet.

"It went too fast" Ona pout, gently putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

Quick, air needed please. You focus all your concentration to listen to the words she says to you and not faint.

"It’s true" you mumble without really realizing what you’re saying.

Ona answers nothing, her gaze in yours. Your heart beats too fast, so fast that you have the impression that Ona can hear it. Hypnotized by her, you notice that she came forward only when her face is only a few centimeters from yours. From there you can see the depth of her gaze, every single one of her freckles.

And then, she kissed you. Slowly, letting you the time to stop her if you don’t want to.

But you want to, obviously. You would be unable to describe how you feel during this kiss, but your heart rushing against your thorax cage might speak for you.

"My heart will explode" you whisper against her lips without fully taking them off.

"I’ve wanted to do this for ages, you have no idea how much"

The answer of the latina makes you open your eyes and you find yourself immersed in her chocolate eyes, so warm and pleasant.

"I’m glad you did"

She offers you a new smile and takes you completely against her for a new kiss. A little more harder this one, but still light, made to discover you both. Her hands caress your face while yours are in the hollow of her back.

You feel like you could spend hours there, but you realize you have to go home if you don’t want to get your parents' attention.

"Will you writing to tell me that you have arrived well?" you ask her gently, your hands caressing her arms.

"Promise" she answers you before stealing a new kiss. "Sleep well"

Then it’s your turn to steal one from her, before she goes back to her car. Waiting for her to leave to enter your home, you can’t erase the big smile on your face when you go up to your room. You go directly in it, starting to undress and remove your makeup. You just putted on your pajamas when your phone vibrates, indicating the reception of a new message.

Ona - I came home well. I hope to wake up tomorrow without realizing that it was all a dream. Sleep well Princess ♥

You - Sleep well too, Hermosa. I look forward to seeing you again ♥