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purplereina11 · 29 days ago

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🏀 Based after Eleven 🏀

Chapter 4

It started as playful online chemistry with someone unexpected-Alexia Putellas. Flirty banter turned into late-night texts before a heated moment on a club balcony shifted everything.

Now it was post game meet-ups, no-strings friends-with-benefits arrangement. They shared passion, comfort, and the grind of pro sports. But as the season went on, lines blurred.

It was supported to stay simple. These things never do however. Not in professional sports. The option to stay isn't always yours.

The city was still asleep when you left her. The sky was a deep blue fading into grey, the hush before sunrise casting a strange calm over the streets as you slipped into your car, heart heavy and full at once. Alexia had fallen asleep again for just a few minutes, curled beneath the blanket on her couch, hair still damp from your shared heat, one hand stretched toward where you’d been lying only moments before.

You’d kissed her forehead before leaving. Quietly. Reverently. No words. She didn’t need them. Now, hours later, you stood on the runway beside your teammates, the private jet humming behind you, the buzz of the semifinal beginning to settle into your chest like caffeine. Focus had returned—sharper than ever. But underneath it, beneath the press calls and the tactical briefings—there was her.

Still on your skin. Still under your nails. Still in your head. You looked down at your wrist. The bracelet. Barça colours. Two white beads. Two ones. Eleven. Your thumb brushed over it as you boarded the plane.

Across the aisle, Maya leaned in. “You’re weirdly calm.”

You shrugged, lips twitching. “I’m not calm. I’m just ready.”

Liv, already half-asleep beside her, muttered, “You say that like you didn’t sneak off to see your lucky charm last night.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Maya said with a smirk. “It’s a flex.”

You settled into your seat, the engines roaring to life beneath you. You didn’t respond—not out loud. But you did glance out the window, the early light catching on your bracelet as the plane lifted off the ground. You were leaving for war. But you were carrying her with you.

Back in Barcelona, Alexia stirred awake to sunlight and an empty space beside her. She reached out, fingers brushing the couch cushion where you’d been, and smiled to herself. On the coffee table sat your jersey. And on top it, folded once, a note in your handwriting.

Don’t watch the scoreboard. Watch me.

She read it twice. Then she leaned back with a sigh, heart pounding, already counting down the hours until your next return. Semifinals were next. And this time, you weren’t just playing for the win. You were playing for the chance to win it all.

The wheels hit the tarmac in Milan with a soft thud, and your world shifted into overdrive. From the moment you stepped off the plane, it was a blur.

Camera crews. Sponsors. Staff. Schedules. Microphones shoved in your face before you even reached the hotel. You had barely adjusted to the Milan air before you were whisked into your first media session. Hair still damp from the plane bathroom sink, laces again barely tied, and someone was already asking:

“Do you feel pressure to lead this team to another historic win?” “Are you distracted by recent online noise?” “Any comment on Alexia Putellas’ tweet last week?”

You kept your answers clipped, professional, nodding politely, eyes forward. You’d trained for this—on and off the court. Smile when necessary. Speak when needed. Focus where it counts. The minute the press conference ended, it was straight to the training courts.

No time for breath. No space for nerves. Milan was cold, the sky grey and brooding, and the wind whipped up outside during your open session. Cameras lined the sidelines. Reporters watched every movement, every shot you took, every time the coach shouted your name.

You dug in harder. Every sprint, every drill, every set. You weren’t going to give them a headline about fatigue or distraction. You were here to prove something—to them, to yourself, maybe even to her. Still, the whirlwind didn’t stop. Dinner was late. Meetings even later.

By the time you made it back to your hotel room, it was after 9pm. You dropped your duffel by the bed and collapsed on the mattress, fully clothed, mind still buzzing with plays, matchups, film clips you couldn’t un-see. You stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling, adrenaline still thrumming beneath your skin. Then you looked down.

The bracelet on your wrist caught the faint hotel light. Red. Blue. Two white beads. Two ones. You reached for your phone without even thinking, heart pulled toward her like gravity.

One unread message waited from hours ago.

Alexia: Play your game. The rest will follow.

You smiled to yourself, thumb brushing the screen before you typed back.

You: I will. Hope you liked your present

You didn’t wait for a reply. You slid the phone under your pillow, closed your eyes, and let the storm of the day settle. In two days, the lights would come on. In two days, the world would watch. But tonight—just for a few hours—you let yourself breathe.

—

You were in mid-morning practice in Milan when your phone started blowing up. At first, you ignored it. The group chat with Liv and Maya was always chaotic—memes, chaos, half-baked tactical jokes. But when Maya let out a loud gasp across the court, you knew something was up. “What?” you called out, dribbling casually toward her.

She turned her phone to face you, eyes wide, grinning like she’d just seen a celebrity scandal. “You’ve seen this, right?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at the photo on her screen—and your brain short-circuited for a second. It was a picture of Alexia. Walking into the stadium for her own pre-match duties that day. Sunglasses on. Fresh blowout. And wearing a Barça basketball jersey. The one with your last name on the back and the big #11 stitched in bold white. The one you intended for her to wear in the privacy of her own home,

The caption beneath the post said

Alexia Putellas arrives for her game repping [Your Name]’s jersey. Is this a soft launch part two or what?!

And the replies. Forget it. The internet was melting down.

“THE JERSEY??? THE. JERSEY?????” “So we’ve passed matching bracelets and now we’re just wearing each other’s kit. Casual.” “Alexia Putellas wearing her girlfriend’s number like a proud WAG, I’m fine.” “Is this... is this canon??” “Plot twist: she’s just supporting Barça basketball. Right?? RIGHT???”

Your heart thudded in your chest—not from nerves this time, but from something warmer. Something that made you want to jump on a plane back to Barcelona and kiss her in front of every camera lens in the world.

Maya was still grinning. “That’s your jersey, isn’t it?”

“She’s just supporting the team,” you said quickly, trying to play it cool—even though your ears were hot and your smile was threatening to break your face.

Liv jogged over, phone in hand. “Oh, the locker room’s gonna scream. Her teammates probably are too.”

You sighed, but you were smiling. Hard. “She really wore it?” you asked quietly, mostly to yourself.

Maya nodded. “To her game. Into her stadium. Repping you. That’s not just support, that’s a statement.”

You looked down at your wrist. The bracelet was still there—anchoring you. Then you looked back at the court. “Alright,” you muttered, smirking now, refocusing. “Guess I’ve got a game to win. Can’t let my number one fan down.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “You two are disgusting.”

“Championship-level disgusting,” Maya added with a laugh. You just grinned and stepped back onto the court, locked in—because this time, your name wasn’t just on your back. It was walking into stadiums across the world on hers, too.

Back in Barcelona, the cameras were rolling as the team made their way onto the pitch for warmups. The sun was dipping low, casting a golden hue across the stadium, and the crowd was already buzzing—half for the game, half for the players they adored. But tonight, all eyes locked on Alexia. She jogged out onto the field, leading the squad in her crisp pre-match warmup kit, hair pulled back, face calm. Classic captain energy. But the cameras—sharp-eyed as ever—zoomed in fast. It wasn’t her boots this time. Not her armband. Not even the glimpse of the jersey she’d arrived in earlier. It was the bracelet on her wrist. Red and blue beads. Two white ones. Each with the number 1.

Instant chaos.

“SHE HAS THE MATCHING BRACELET OH MY GOD???” “Two 1s. It’s the number 11 again. This is insane.” “They are doing this on purpose now and I refuse to believe otherwise.” “So it’s not just emotional support, it’s FULL matching accessory energy.”

Screenshots hit every social feed within minutes. A slow-motion clip of Alexia stretching on the sideline, bracelet catching the light as she adjusted her socks, was already being edited into fan videos with romantic music. And her teammates noticed.

Patri gave her a look mid-stretch—eyebrows up, smirk fully loaded. “Nice bracelet, Capitana.”

Alexia didn’t even blink. “Team colours.”

“Right,” Patri said, drawing the word out like it had layers of meaning. “And the white beads?”

Alexia tied her boot tighter, expression cool. “Lucky numbers.”

A few of them laughed, others nodded knowingly, and within seconds, the bracelet had taken on a life of its own. Alexia jogged past the media row, focused and unfazed, but the photographers didn’t miss it. The bracelet was captured in perfect clarity as she clapped toward the crowd, her wrist flicking just enough to catch the sunlight again.

You saw it during a team video review session. Maya was scrolling through social and nearly choked on her water when the clip popped up. “She’s wearing your bracelet,” she whispered, passing you her phone like it was contraband.

You stared at the screen for a second, caught in the slow-mo loop of Alexia walking across the pitch—bracelet fully on display, no hesitation. She told you she didn’t have a matching one. You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked down at your own wrist… and smiled. Matching. Loud in the quietest way. Two cities. Two games. One silent, sparkling connection wrapped around your wrists. The world could speculate. You both already knew what it meant.

The video review session wrapped a little earlier than expected, which was rare. You were collecting your things when Coach called out across the locker room. "Sit tight for a minute—don’t head out just yet."

You froze mid-zip of your hoodie, glancing toward the screen you’d just been analysing game tape on. She gave a small smile and nodded to the staff member by the laptop.

“We figured, since most of you have been sneaking updates anyway…” she said, very pointedly not looking at you. “Might as well watch it properly.” The screen flickered to life, switching over to a live stream.

Supercopa de España Femenina Final. Barcelona vs. Real Madrid.

The whole room shifted.

Maya whooped, “LET’S GO,” while Liv immediately slid back down into her seat. You didn’t say anything. You just blinked at the screen, lips parting, because there she was.

Alexia.

Leading her team out, wearing the captain’s armband like it was sewn into her skin, calm and focused as ever.

You hadn’t expected this.

Coach glanced at you, just once. “Consider it... team bonding. Club supports club.” You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried.

For the next 90 minutes, you and your entire squad were glued to the screen. And what unfolded was absolute domination.

Barcelona came out firing. Real Madrid never stood a chance.

1–0 in the 8th minute.

2–0

3-0 before halftime.

By the time the fourth goal went in, Liv was standing on the bench screaming, and even Coach was nodding in quiet approval.

Then the fifth? Maya started the chant: “Alexia! Alexia!”—and the room joined in without hesitation.

It came in the 85th minute. You could feel it coming before it happened. Alexia picked up the ball at the edge of the box—curled it into the top corner with effortless precision.

The room erupted. Your teammates were on their feet, shouting, cheering, celebrating like it was your final. You didn’t even realise you were standing too until someone pulled you into a hug.

You couldn’t stop smiling. You weren’t even trying to play it cool anymore. The camera cut to Alexia blowing a kiss to the crowd, hand briefly touching the bracelet on her wrist—and your heart flipped. Because even in a 5–0 masterclass, she’d made you feel like part of it.

After the final whistle blew and the Barcelona players lifted the Supercopa trophy, your entire team was clapping, whistling, laughing.

Someone—probably Maya—filmed you with your hands on your head, grinning like an idiot. The video made it online within the hour.

🎥 @[YourTeamHandle] “When your sister team wins the #Supercopa and your locker room goes wild 🇪🇸💙❤️”

[📸: video of your squad celebrating Alexia’s 85th-minute screamer] “No. 11 supporting No. 11. 🫶”

The comments, as always, lost it.

“LOOK AT HER FACE WHEN ALEXIA SCORES 😭😭😭”

“You can’t fake that kind of joy.”

“That is real. That is SPORTSWIFE ENERGY.”

“I’ve never seen someone so proud. She’s LIVING.” “Not the team being fully invested in their captain-in-law.” “Alexia scoring the fifth was like a love letter, I swear.”

Today was the day. Semi final day for you, the buzz of Alexia’s win the night before long forgotten.

The hotel lobby was buzzing with pre-game energy—coaches double-checking schedules, staff sorting gear, players stretching, pacing, zoning in. The team bus was idling out front, clock ticking down to departure for the semifinal.

But before the chaos swept you away, you were granted a moment.

A small pocket of calm.

You stepped through a side corridor near the elevators and found them waiting—your family.

Your mum was already holding her phone up, clearly trying not to cry while snapping a picture of you in full team kit. Your dad, ever the quiet anchor, stood beside her with his arms crossed and the proudest smirk you’d ever seen.

Your older sister, standing tall as ever, was next to your brother and sister-in-law, who gave you a quick wave before nudging your niece forward.

And there she was four years old, bouncing in place, wearing an oversized jersey that nearly swallowed her whole, a tiny version of your number 11 on the back. Her curly hair was tied in two uneven puffs, and she clutched a little homemade sign that read:

“Go Auntie! Score lots!”

Your heart nearly burst.

You knelt down and opened your arms, and she sprinted toward you, throwing herself into a hug that knocked the air from your lungs—in the best way.

“Are you gonna win?” she asked seriously, peeking up at you with wide, expectant eyes.

“I’m gonna try really hard,” you whispered back, brushing hair from her face. “But even if I don’t, you still proud of me?”

She nodded furiously. “Duh. You’re my hero.”

You blinked hard.

Your brother clapped a hand on your shoulder while your mum quietly dabbed at her eyes. “No matter what happens today,” your dad said, voice thick but steady, “you’ve already made us proud.”

You stood slowly, hugging your mum, then your sister—who whispered in your ear, “Play like it’s for everything.”

“I will,” you promised.

Your brother handed you a folded note. “From all of us. Open in a bit.”

You nodded, carefully tucking it into your bag, right next to your water bottle and your game towel. Your sister-in-law passed you a small paper bracelet—clumsily made, colourful with marker scribbles and the words:

“Auntie’s magic!"

You tied it on next to the real one.

Just before heading toward the team, you took one last look at them—your family, your why, all standing together, cheering you on like it was the final.

You turned, heart full, focus sharp.

And walked toward the biggest game of your career, carrying their love with you—on your wrist, in your chest, and all the way to the court.

The moment you stepped onto the team bus, it all clicked into place. The pressure didn’t disappear—it sharpened. It no longer felt like a weight to carry. It felt like fuel.

With your duffel slung over your shoulder and your game headphones in place, you slid into your seat, gaze focused out the window. Paris passed by in flashes—grey skies, flashes of traffic, blue and red team flags waving outside the hotel. You could still feel your niece’s tiny arms around your neck, her voice echoing in your head,

“You’re my hero.”

You exhaled slowly, calming your nerves. Maya flopped into the seat across from you, giving you a long look before asking, “You good?”

You nodded. “Better than good.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused. “Family fix that for you?”

You didn’t answer right away—just glanced at your wrist, where two bracelets now sat side-by-side: the Barça-coloured one with the twin 1s… and the new, lopsided ‘Auntie’s Magic’ one, drawn in bright marker by your four-year-old hype woman.

“Something like that,” you murmured with a smile.

The bus rolled forward. No music, no noise yet. Just the quiet rhythm of teammates finding focus in their own ways. Some tapped knees. Others mumbled plays. You closed your eyes briefly, centring yourself.

When you opened them again, you reached into your bag and pulled out the note your brother gave you.

You hesitated—then unfolded it.

The handwriting was messy, full of overlapping words like everyone had squeezed in a line:

No matter the score, we already brag about you like you’re a world champion.

You play with fire. Keep doing that.

From your favourite sibling—you’re the GOAT.

Make history, kid. But mostly—have fun.

At the bottom, in scrawled marker, your niece had written in giant letters:

GO AUNTIE GO!

With a crooked heart drawn beside it.

You folded it carefully and placed it inside your jacket pocket—close to your chest.

—

By the time the bus pulled up to the arena, the city had shifted. Milan hummed with electricity. Fans were already outside. Cameras lined the walk toward the tunnel.

The staff gave you the signal. It was time.

You stood with your team in the tunnel, bouncing slightly on your toes, the court just out of view. The arena lights glowed ahead. Whistles, cheers, and chants thundered just beyond the wall.

Your heartbeat synced to it. Maya nudged your arm and leaned in. “Ready?”

You nodded slowly, eyes locked forward. “Let’s make history.”

Then the announcer called your name. And you stepped into the light.

The lights hit you like a wall of heat as you stepped out onto the court. A roar rose from the crowd—not just noise, but energy, thick and alive and vibrating through your chest. The court gleamed beneath your sneakers. Flags waved from the rafters. Music thumped through the speakers as the announcers rattled off names, hyping up the crowd. You barely heard yours—you were already zoning in.

The entire stadium was electric, and you felt it in your bones. You glanced at the scoreboard—still blank, still untouched. The calm before the storm. Your team spread out for warmups. Coaches shouted instructions, but it all faded into the background. Your breathing slowed. You stretched. Let your muscles settle into rhythm.

The minute the coverage started on Alexia’s television it fell quiet, you were all they were talking about, Alexia was locked in on the TV, oblivious to how many of her teammates had joined her for the game “It’s a historic run this Barcelona side have been on, they are dominating in every competition they are competing in, and all talk is putting that down to (your name) she just brings something out these players we didn’t see last year”

“That’s right, the way she moves around the court, her confidence her ability to change the play, the amount of triple doubles this woman has achieved this season has broken all records.”

“Not only is she the leading points scorer she’s also leading in the assists to, she’s not a selfish player. Barcelona really need to lock her down if they want there women’s basketball team to continue to be successful”

“It shocks me they’ve yet to lock her down to a new contract” Alexia furrowed her brows, “It’s crazy to me to bring in a player of her calibre in for only one season. They have her for two more months and then after that, who knows where she’ll end up, but it’ll be a sad day if she leaves Spanish Basketball because what she’s done for the sport here is incredible. Last year you had maybe a thousand people at this game, this year is a packed sold out 19 thousand strong crowd. That’s the your name effect”

“The last we heard there were discussions on keeping her at Barcelona but I did hear she had at least 5 WNBA teams show significant interest in her”

Alexia sat frozen, her grip tightening around the remote as the broadcast continued. The energy in the room had shifted her teammates and family were murmuring about the weight of the moment, but she barely registered it.

She didn’t know. She hadn’t known.

The words echoed in her head, louder than the TV itself. She had always naïvely, not thought about the fact you may not be in Barcelona forever. That Barcelona was as much a home to you as it was to her. That this season wasn’t just a stepping stone but the beginning of something long term.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as the analysts continued.

“It would be a shame for Spanish basketball to lose her. What she’s done here is unprecedented.”

“She’s a generational talent—Barcelona need to do everything in their power to keep her.”

“But is that enough? If the WNBA comes calling, how do you say no? That’s the dream right?”

Alexia’s jaw tightened. She didn’t realise she’d stopped breathing until Patri elbowed her lightly.

“You okay?” she asked, chewing popcorn with casual concern.

Alexia nodded quickly. “Fine.”

But she wasn’t.

She had no idea.

She watched as the camera zoomed in on your face during warm-ups—focused, sharp, the bracelets still visible on your wrist. You looked calm. Like you were ready.

But Alexia wasn’t.

Her hands fidgeted in her lap again.

“You think she’d really leave?” one of the younger players asked quietly, almost in awe.

Alexia looked straight ahead, masking her emotion behind a calm, composed smile. “She’s spoken about as one of the best women’s basketball players, if she gets a better offer why wouldn’t she? I wouldn’t blame her either”

But inside? She hated the idea of you leaving.

The energy in the arena was suffocating, the kind of electric buzz that crackled in the air and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A sold-out 19,000-strong crowd was packed into the stands, screaming themselves hoarse as the final minutes of the game ticked away.

Barcelona: 84 | Opponents: 84 |

15 seconds left

Your chest was heaving, sweat rolling down your temple as you dribbled at the top of the key, eyes flicking across the defence. You’d been battered all night—double teams, hard fouls, and a brutal elbow to the mouth that had left you with a bloody lip in the third quarter. But you weren’t coming off. Not with everything on the line.

Coach hadn’t even needed to draw up the final play. Everyone knew the ball was going to you.

You started your move with 10 seconds left, crossing over, getting your defender on their heels before driving hard to the right. The moment you saw the help defence slide in, you threw it to Maya in the corner. She faked the shot, but her defender closed too fast.

5 seconds left

Maya swung it back to you at the top of the arc. You caught it, planted your feet, and let it fly.

Time slowed.

The ball arced high, spinning perfectly toward the rim as the buzzer sounded—

A second later.

Nothing but net.

Game over.

For a split second, there was silence. Then the arena erupted. The sound hit you like a tidal wave. Deafening. Absolute madness. You barely had time to react before you were tackled Liv was the first to reach you, wrapping her arms around your neck, her legs around your waist, nearly taking you down. Then came Maya, Claudia, the entire bench mob, screaming and jumping as the crowd lost their minds.

Barcelona was going to the final. Second trophy of four coming within touching distance.

The weight of the moment hit you like a freight train. You had done it. For the first time in history, Barcelona’s women’s team was heading to the championship final game, a chance to win the trophy.

The cameras were on you now, someone shoving a mic in your face as you tried to catch your breath. Your lip was still bleeding, your body aching, but all you could do was grin, overwhelmed, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

You barely heard the reporter’s question. Something about history. Something about pressure. Your mind wasn’t even in the arena anymore. You were just overcome.

The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins as you sat at the press conference table, your jersey still damp with sweat, your lip still split from the brutal elbow in the third quarter. The buzz in the room was electric reporters murmuring excitedly, cameras flashing, your teammates laughing and celebrating beside you.

Barcelona was heading to its first-ever final, and everyone wanted to talk about it. You fielded the first few questions easily—your thoughts on the game, the atmosphere, that buzzer-beater. You grinned as Liv elbowed you playfully when the reporter called it one of the most clutch shots in Barcelona basketball history.

“I mean, we knew the ball was going to her,” Maya said into her mic, shooting you a knowing look. “We’d be idiots not to. She lives for moments like that. She’s the only person I’ve ever met that loves that pressure”

Laughter rippled through the room, and you smirked, shaking your head. “I don’t know about living for it, I just didn’t want to go to overtime.”

The reporters ate it up, the cameras flashing faster. But then, the question came. Direct, cutting through the energy like a cold blade.

“There’s been a lot of talk about your contract situation (Your name), with Barcelona only having you under contract for two more months. Given the WNBA interest, is this your last season here?”

The laughter died instantly. Your teammates shifted beside you, the air in the room changing as every reporter leaned forward, recorders in hand. You didn’t hesitate. You set your mic down, leaned back in your chair, and exhaled sharply before giving a blunt, final answer.

“Now’s not the time for that conversation.” Your tone left zero room for follow-up. Cold. Unshakable. Maya smirked beside you, clearly amused by the tension in the room. Some of your other teammates chuckled under their breath, but the message was loud and clear. You weren’t talking about it. Not now. Not when your team was on the verge of history. The reporter opened his mouth to push, but you didn’t let him. You leaned forward, eyes sharp, and said, “Next question.”

Silence.

Then, slowly, another reporter spoke up, pivoting the conversation back to the game, to the championship ahead. The room exhaled, the pressure shifting. But your message had been sent. The press conference had settled back into its usual rhythm—questions about the game, the team’s mindset heading into the final when a reporter in the back cleared his throat, steering the conversation somewhere you hadn’t expected.

“We noticed Alexia Putellas wasn’t in the arena tonight for such a historic moment. She’s been seen at several of your games this season. Was there a reason for her absence?”

You barely blinked, but you felt Maya shift beside you, clearly sensing the sudden shift in energy. The room waited, pens poised, recorders held a little closer. You kept your tone even, uninterested in feeding the media anything extra. “Alexia has her own season to focus on. She’s a professional she’s got her own priorities. She and her team won the Supercopa not a couple of hours ago, she’s busy”

The reporter pressed on. “Still, considering the magnitude of this win, one might have expected her to be here. Does her absence say anything about your friendship..relationship?”

Your jaw clenched for a fraction of a second, but you smoothed it out before anyone could catch it. “I don’t see how this is relevant to basketball,” you replied, voice firm, shutting it down before it could become a headline. Liv smirked beside you, clearly entertained by your bluntness, while a few of your other teammates stifled amused glances.

The reporter hesitated before reluctantly pivoting back to questions about the game. But even as you fielded the next round of inquiries, something nagged at you. Because they didn’t know. They didn’t know she had unintentionally set up a watch party. They didn’t know she had spent the entire night glued to the screen, watching your every move, wearing your jersey. They had no idea that she had been just as invested—if not more—than the people screaming in the stands.

But for the first time, she had chosen to stay in the background. And that meant something. You were ignoring the glaringly obvious reason that you were in Paris. She back in Madrid hours post her own win.

Your phone buzzed on the table beside you—face down, out of sight—but you knew. You just knew.

It was her.

And suddenly, the game, the questions, the noise of the press room—it all faded.

Because whatever Alexia had to say? That was the only thing that mattered now

You subtly flipped it over, glancing at the screen.

Alexia: You looked good out there. Even with the bloody lip. Kinda hot, actually.

You bit your lip to keep from grinning, shaking your head when the pain shot through you. But before you could type a response, Liv, sitting beside you, leaned over just enough to catch a glimpse of the message.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across her face.

“Ohhh,” she murmured under her breath, barely audible over the noise of Maya answering a question in her usual professional articulate manner. “That was not a ‘congrats on the win’ text.”

You shot her a side-eye, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face. “Mind your business.”

Liv simply leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, thoroughly enjoying herself. “Can’t help it when it’s right there.”

Alexia: So, are we gonna talk about how you nearly gave me a heart attack? Or should I just accept that you enjoy stressing me out?

You exhaled sharply through your nose, a small smirk creeping onto your lips. Liv leaned in slightly, managing to catch a glimpse of the message before you could lock your phone.

You: I like keeping you on your toes.

Alexia’s response came immediately.

Alexia: We’ll see how much you like it when you get back here.

“Ohhh,” she whispered under her breath, barely moving her lips, eyes sparkling with mischief. “She’s mad. Mad.”

You bit back a laugh, keeping your face neutral, though the corners of your mouth twitched.

Still staring ahead at the next reporter, Liv nudged your knee under the table, mouthing, “You’re in trouble.”

That was it. You lost it. You tried to hold back the laugh, but the way Liv was fighting her own smile made it impossible. A small snicker escaped, and Marta, sitting on the other side of Liv, turned toward you in confusion.

“Something funny?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

You cleared your throat, masking your laughter with a cough, but Liv was no help her shoulders were shaking silently as she desperately avoided eye contact. When you both made eye contact you both burst out laughing, you covered your face as you laughed, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not even funny” you laughed, your laugh was winding down but soon as you looked at Liv again you lost it again, “I’m sorry”

Maria squinted suspiciously before shaking her head, returning her focus to the press. “You now know the answer to why we never normally have these two in the same press conference”

Your phone buzzed you peered

Alexia: If you’re laughing at me, I won’t be happy

You tilted your phone to Liv who’s mouth dropped

Liv finally whispered under her breath, still grinning, “You’re so dead.”

You just smirked, tapping out a quick reply. “Sorry, what was your question?” You glanced as your thumbs were still moving

You: Are you ever happy?

You as a sign put your phone in your lap, cheeks warming slightly, and shot Liv a look.

She read everything from your face and chuckled, muttering, “Yup. You’re so done for.” You exhaled, shaking your head, but your grin never faded. Because you weren’t sure if Alexia was mad, exasperated, or just playing with you. But one thing was clear you couldn’t wait to find out.

The press conference didn’t go on much longer, Maya, nudged you. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, standing up and pocketing your phone, avoiding Liv’s smug look.

As you all made your way out of the press room, Liv caught your arm for just a second, whispering, “Tell her I said ‘hi.’”

You snorted, shaking your head as you pushed the door open. “You’re annoying.”

Liv grinned, eyes twinkling. “And yet, you love me.”

You laughed, shaking off the last of your nerves. Whatever was waiting in Alexia’s next message, you’d deal with it soon enough.

The second you stepped into the locker room, away from the cameras and press, you pulled out your phone. Your teammates were still riding the high of the win, laughing and chatting as they made their way each grab bottles of the awaiting celebratory drinks, but your focus was entirely on your phone.

Alexia: They’re replaying you looking all moody after the elbow. It’s sexy.

You tapped on Alexia’s message, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: Oh, so now you like me bloody and bruised? Good to know.

A few seconds passed, then

Alexia: Always knew you were tough, but seeing it like that? Yeah… definitely not a bad look.

You chuckled under your breath, shaking your head. Just as you were about to respond, Liv brushed past you, tossing a teasing look over her shoulder.

“Tell her to keep it in her pants,” she quipped, loud enough for Mayam and a few others to hear.

Maya perked up immediately. “Ohhh, Alexia? What’s she saying?”

You shot Liv a glare while Maya practically lunged to peek at your phone. You pulled it away just in time. “Nothing. Mind your business.”

“Not a chance,” Maya grinned. “You’re all over the news, and your ‘not-girlfriend’ is suddenly very chatty? We’re invested.”

“Deeply invested,” Liv added, clearly enjoying herself.

You rolled your eyes, shoving your phone into your jacket pocket. “You’re all unbearable.”

“You love us,” Maya quipped.

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

The teasing continued as you fully engaged in the chanting and banging of the walls, but the moment you had a second to yourself after they’d subsided, you pulled your phone back out.

You: How’s my biggest fan feeling after watching that?

Alexia’s reply was almost instant.

Alexia: Proud. Also, frustrated because you’re an idiot for not dodging that elbow more the I watch it.

You grinned, leaning against the locker.

You: Part of the game

Alexia: Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

You hesitated for a moment, fingers tapping against the screen. The conversation was lighthearted, teasing, but something about her words, about her absence tonight lingered in your mind.

You: Wish you were there.

A pause. Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Alexia: Me too.

You exhaled slowly, staring at the message. For the first time all night, the win, the noise, the celebration—it all faded into the background. Because this wasn’t just some playful back-and-forth. This was something else entirely. It was too much for you so you changed the tone throwing Alexia for a loop

You: Was a good game you’d of learned a lot.

The locker room was buzzing, music blasting, champagne already being popped despite Coach’s weak protests, teammates laughing, reliving the final moments of the game like they hadn’t just lived it in real-time. You should’ve been fully in the moment. But your eyes kept flicking to your phone, Alexia’s last message sitting heavy in your mind.

Me too.

It wasn’t just words. It wasn’t just a casual response. It meant something.

“Are you even here right now?” Liv’s voice broke through your thoughts, amusement dripping from her tone. She leaned on the locker next to you, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

You blinked, forcing a smirk. “Yeah, I’m here.”

Liv scoffed. “Mmm-hmm. And I’m the Pope.”

You rolled your eyes, pocketing your phone. “Drop it.”

Maya, freshly drenched in celebratory champagne, appeared on your other side, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, no way. What’s going on?”

“Alexia,” Liv answered for you, smirking.

Maya’s eyes lit up. “Ooooh. Did she finally confess her undying love? Is she proposing? Did she—”

You shoved her lightly. “You two need hobbies.”

Liv shrugged. “This is our hobby.”

Maya nodded, completely serious. “You’re far more interesting than our actual lives.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. You felt both Liv and Maya shift to peek over your shoulder. You turned your back immediately, shooting them a warning glare. “Touch grass, both of you.”

Maya clutched her chest dramatically. “You’ve changed.” Ignoring them, you pulled out your phone, your heart kicking up just a little faster.

Alexia: I’m still up.

A slow smirk forming on your lips

You: What a coincidence. Me too.

Alexia: Call me when you’re done celebrating?

There it was again. Something unspoken.

You stared at the message for a second before quickly typing back.

You: Give me ten minutes.

You felt eyes on you and turned to find Liv and Maya grinning like they’d just won the lottery.

Maya held up her hands. “I won’t ask.”

Liv, however, smirked. “Just don’t say anything stupid when you call her.”

You scoffed. “When do I ever say anything stupid?”

Both of them exchanged a look.

Maya patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Godspeed.”

Shaking your head, you grabbed your jacket and slipped out of the locker room, your pulse quickening just a little. Because as much as you loved celebrating with your team, there was only one person you wanted to talk to right now. And she was waiting for your call.

The night air was crisp as you stepped outside the arena, the distant sounds of celebration still echoing from inside. You pulled your jacket tighter around you, took a deep breath, and tapped Alexia’s name on your phone. It barely rang once before she picked up.

“Took you long enough,” Alexia teased, her voice warm and familiar.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Had to survive the post-game interrogation first. Liv and Maya were unbearable.”

Alexia laughed softly, and the sound instantly eased the last of your nerves. “Let me guess—they saw my texts?”

“Oh yeah. They were ready to write fanfiction.”

Alexia hummed knowingly. “Sounds about right.” A comfortable silence settled for a second, the weight of the game, the win, and the night still lingering between you. “So,” Alexia started, her voice softer now. “How does it feel? You just made history.”

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. “Honestly? It still doesn’t feel real.”

“It is.”

Her certainty made something settle deep in your chest. “I just wish you were there,” you admitted before you could stop yourself.

There was a pause on her end, then a soft sigh. “Me too.” The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip. “I wanted to be,” she continued. “I had the whole watch party going, but it wasn’t the same.”

You smiled slightly, picturing her in your jersey, surrounded by her teammates, Alba probably making a whole event out of it. “You had a whole crowd watching me?”

“Of course,” she said simply. “I wasn’t missing that.”

Your stomach flipped, warmth spreading through your chest. “Well, we’re in the final now,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Plenty of time to show up.”

Alexia chuckled softly, but there was something unspoken in the pause that followed. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Plenty of time.”

But you both knew that wasn’t entirely true. The unspoken thing—the contract, the future, the uncertainty—hung between you like an invisible thread, waiting to be pulled. You weren’t ready for that conversation tonight. So instead, you teased, “You’re still picturing me with a bloody lip, aren’t you?”

Alexia laughed, a little breathless. “I hate how well you know me.”

You smirked. “I have a talent for reading you.”

“Oh yeah?” she mused. “Then what am I thinking right now?”

You pretended to consider. “Hmm… you’re wondering when I’m getting on a plane back to Barcelona.” Her silence spoke volumes. “Am I wrong?” you pressed.

“Not even a little,” Alexia admitted.

You grinned, shifting on your feet. “Soon.”

“Good,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’ll be waiting.” You exhaled, the weight of the night suddenly feeling a lot lighter. “Try to get some sleep tonight, cariño,” she murmured, her voice sending warmth through you. “You’ve got a final to prepare for.”

You smiled. “And you’ve got a flight to book to Paris.” The final was in Paris.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Go celebrate, idiot.”

“Goodnight, Alexia.”

“Goodnight.”

You ended the call, exhaling deeply, the city buzzing around you. You had just made history. But somehow, she was still the only thing on your mind.

The streets of Paris were alive, buzzing with energy, but nothing matched the euphoria radiating from you and your teammates as you spilled out of the team bus and into the bar your coach had reserved. The night was yours, and for once, you weren’t thinking about anything else—not Alexia, not the contract talks, not the endless media speculation.

Tonight was about celebrating.

The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins as you stepped out of the hotel lobby, where a fleet of black cars was waiting to take the team to your celebratory dinner. The night air was crisp, the city still buzzing from the historic win just hours earlier.

Inside the cars, the mood was electric—laughter, cheers, and even an impromptu chant started by Maya that had the entire squad hyped all over again.

“You do realise we only made the final, right?” Liv teased, adjusting the sleek blazer she had opted for instead of a dress. “Not saying we shouldn’t be celebrating, but it’s not like we won the whole thing yet.”

Maya rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. We made history tonight. Do you know how many Barcelona teams before us have tried and failed to do this?”

“All of them,” Claudia added, grinning. “So yeah, we celebrate.”

When you pulled up to the restaurant—a high-end spot that the club had booked out exclusively for the team and staff—you were met with flashes of cameras from across the street. The media was already outside, eager to get a glimpse of the team that had just shaken the entire league.

Inside, the energy was even louder. The coaching staff, club executives, and even a few familiar faces from other Barcelona teams were there, raising glasses in your honour. As you took your seat at a long, lavishly set table, a waiter immediately poured you a glass of champagne.

“To making history!” one of the coaches toasted, raising his glass.

The entire room erupted, glasses clinking, cheers echoing against the walls. You leaned back slightly, taking it all in—the faces of your teammates, your team, all of you standing on the precipice of something massive. Dinner was chaotic in the best way possible—stories from the game, wild reenactments of the final shot, playful jabs at each other for missed free throws or sloppy turnovers. Someone started a tally of who had gotten the most fouls throughout the season, and of course, your name was high on the list.

“This one,” Liv announced dramatically, pointing at you with her fork, “has personally put at least five people on the injured list this season.”

You held up your hands in innocence. “Not my fault they don’t move fast enough.”

Maya howled in laughter. “They’re still talking about that brutal screen you set last month.”

Liv shook her head, sipping her drink. “You love being the villain.”

You smirked, raising your glass. “Only if it gets us the win.”

By the time dessert came around, the mood had shifted slightly—still celebratory, but also a little more reflective.

“We really did it, huh?” Marta mused, stirring her spoon in her coffee.

“We’re not done yet,” the team captain reminded her. “One more.”

“One more,” you echoed, nodding. And that was the reality of it. The biggest game of your career was still ahead. But tonight was about the journey. About this team. And about taking a second to appreciate the moment before the real battle began.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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brookediamonds · 2 months ago

Note

I can’t thinking about this but please a Axel Kovacevié x shy!reader? Shy!reader is a member of iron dragons. Axel and shy!reader are dating and she’s best friends with Tory and she’s the older sister of Miguel Diaz but their mother gave her up for adoption as a newborn baby to give shy!reader her best chance but unknowingly for everyone, Sensei Wolf adopted and raise shy!reader as his own little princess until years later the miyagi-do, including Daniel, Johnny and Miguel finally found his older sister at Barcelona, Sensei wolf lets her keep her last name Diaz. At the last tournament, shy!reader won the sakai takai and sensei wolf has always been proud her since he adopted her as a newborn baby. The miyagi-do/Cobra Kai especially Miguel and his family can’t help but feel happy for shy!reader. Unknowingly for Sensei wolf, if he retires as a sensei, shy!reader will make iron dragons a better dojo, less harsh you know. Bonus: Miguel and his family wants to meet and get to know shy!reader but it’s pretty obvious shy!reader isn’t really interested meeting and getting to know them.

you found me | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: Things take a turn at your tournament when you run into someone new, someone you surely hadn't anticipated ever meeting. The current men in your life can't help but be protective when this situation arises.

Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: None, fluff, some angst, shy!reader

gif is not mine

Miguel is the first to notice you when you're fighting on the platform alongside your boys' captain Axel Kovačević.

The Iron Dragons took their place on the platform, standing tall, composed. Among them, you stood beside Axel, body relaxed but eyes sharp, waiting for the fight to begin.

From the Miyagi-Do section, Miguel stood alongside with his team and sensei Lawrence waiting for the next match to take place.

Johnny clapped a hand on his shoulder, nodding toward the platform. "Check it out, next team up."

Miguel turned, expecting just another fight. until his eyes landed on you.

He straightened unconsciously, brows knitting together as he watched you step forward with Axel.

There was something about your stance, the way you carried yourself. The way your hands flexed just before the fight started, your weight balanced perfectly on the balls of your feet.

The ref signaled the match to begin.

It was instant. You and Axel launched into action, a perfect balance of aggression and control.

Every move was sharp, every counter calculated. When one opponent lunged at you, you dodged at the last second, twisting effortlessly to sweep their legs.

Another fighter came at Axel, but you were already there, striking hard before they could land a blow on him.

It was seamless. Precise. Efficient.

Miguel leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Why did it look so familiar? Why did you look so familiar?

"Something wrong, kid?" Johnny’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Miguel didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching you land a brutal spinning kick, sending your opponent crashing to the mat. below the deck.

The match was over. The Iron Dragons had won.

He swallowed hard.

"I don’t know," he murmured. "Their captain, she fights like—"

He hesitated. The thought felt ridiculous. But the way you moved, the way your strikes were fast and powerful yet controlled…

It reminded him of himself.

Johnny raised a brow, following Miguel’s gaze toward you as the Iron Dragons exited the platform. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Miguel didn’t respond. Because deep down, something told him that this wasn’t just a coincidence.

But then they announce your names.

"Another win for Axel Kovačević and Y/n Diaz from the Iron Dragons!"

Miguel froze.

Diaz.

Johnny’s head snapped toward the platform. Miguel felt his pulse in his throat, his mind racing.

The name, your face, the way you fought, it all crashed into him at once. Everything clicked.

Johnny exhaled sharply, realization washing over him, too. He remembers Carmen revealing how she had given up her first born for adoption because she was scared for her life and afraid she wouldn't be able to provide.

"Holy shit…" Johnny breathes out.

Miguel couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how, but he knew.

You weren’t just another fighter.

You were his sister.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The adrenaline from your match had finally started to fade, leaving you with nothing but the steady hum of exhaustion and the distant echoes of the crowd.

The arena was still alive with energy, but you preferred the quiet, something about the solitude of heading toward the locker room alone was grounding.

You kept your head down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you weaved through the competitors.

The Iron Dragons were still reviewing strategies with Sensei Wolf, and you figured you had a few minutes to breathe before heading back.

But as you neared the hallway leading to the locker rooms, a voice called out behind you.

"Hey! Wait!"

You stopped instinctively, turning slightly to see a boy with dark curly hair, jogging up to you.

He looked… familiar. You weren’t sure why, but something about his face made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t place.

"Uh, hi," he said, slightly out of breath, as if he had debated approaching you until the last second.

His brown eyes were warm, searching, but you didn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hi…" you said quietly, your voice barely above a murmur. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I, um, my name’s Miguel," he paused, eyes flickering over your face, like he was waiting for a reaction. When you didn’t give one, he added, "Miguel Diaz."

Your stomach dropped.

Diaz.

Your breath hitched as the realization crept in, slowly, like a puzzle coming together piece by piece. The name.

The way he looked at you. The way his face, his nose, his cheekbones, looked just a little too much like your own.

It clicked. Your dad had explained your backstory to you a few years back when the kids at school started pointing your differences from your father's appearance.

Being adopted was no secret to you, but it didn't mean you wanted to be reminded of it.

"Oh." The word barely left your lips, barely made a sound. You blinked, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all.

Miguel gave a small, nervous laugh, like he wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting.

"Yeah. I, uh— I think we’re…" He trailed off, shifting awkwardly. "I think we’re siblings."

You swallowed hard, gripping the water bottle in your hands. Your heart was racing, but your voice stayed small. "…Okay."

Miguel seemed caught off guard by your lack of response, his expression flickering between cautious hope and uncertainty. "I—look, I know this is probably a lot, but I just—"

"Is there a problem?"

A new voice cut through the air, sharper, more certain. It was your boyfriend, Axel.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned, watching as he strode toward you, his eyes locked onto Miguel like he was already assessing him as a threat.

Miguel blinked, taking a step back instinctively.

"Uh, no. No problem," he said quickly, glancing between you and Axel, realization dawning on his face. He wasn’t just your teammate.

He was protective.

Axel barely spared Miguel a glance before his gaze dropped to you.

"Sensei is looking for you," he said simply, his tone softer than before, just for you.

You nodded wordlessly, already shifting your weight like you were ready to leave.

Miguel saw the way Axel stood close, the way you gravitated toward him without hesitation. And he got the hint. He exhaled, taking a step back.

"I, um, I won’t keep you." He hesitated, eyes meeting yours again, searching for something. But you didn’t have anything to give.

So he just nodded. "It was nice meeting you."

You lowered your gaze slightly, your voice quiet. "…You too."

And with that, you turned, walking toward the locker room with Axel beside you. Miguel stayed behind, watching as you disappeared down the hallway, a weight settling in his chest.

He had finally met his sister.

And you had barely said a word.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The rhythmic sound of fists hitting the heavy bag echoed through the dimly lit hotel gym, filling the otherwise empty space with steady thuds.

You focused on the motion, jab, cross, hook, your knuckles stinging faintly through the wraps.

Normally, the routine was grounding. The repetition, the control. But tonight, your mind was somewhere else.

And your dad noticed.

Sensei Wolf stood a few feet away, arms crossed as he observed. He was always quiet when he watched, letting you work through whatever was on your mind before stepping in.

But after a few more sluggish punches, he finally spoke.

"You’re distracted."

You froze mid-movement, blinking as you dropped your hands slightly. His voice wasn’t scolding, just… knowing. Like he had already figured you out before you had even said a word.

You exhaled, lowering your fists completely. "…Sorry."

He shook his head. "You don’t have to apologize." A pause. Then, softer, "Sit."

You hesitated before obeying, sinking onto one of the benches lining the wall. Your dad joined you, his presence steady beside you, a silent reassurance.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring down at the wraps around your fingers. You weren’t sure how to bring it up. But you didn’t have to.

"What’s on your mind, Xiǎolóng (little dragon)?" His voice was gentle, his usual sharp edge softened just for you.

You swallowed, fidgeting slightly. "I, um, ran into someone today."

His head tilted slightly, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, gripping the fabric of your tank top. "Miguel Diaz." You glanced at him briefly before lowering your gaze again.

"My—my brother. I mean—" You exhaled, correcting yourself. "My biological brother."

Something unreadable flickered in your father’s eyes, but he stayed quiet, letting you speak.

"He introduced himself to me. And he was… nice." You shrug. "Really nice."

Your father nodded once, still watching you carefully. "And how do you feel about that?"

You exhaled sharply.

"I don’t know." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I just… I don’t know if I want to know him. Or them."

Your dad stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing his words before he spoke. Then, he shifted slightly, turning toward you fully.

"You don’t owe anyone anything," he said, voice firm but kind. "Not your past, not your blood."

His gaze softened. "You are my daughter. Not by chance, not by obligation—but because I chose you."

Your breath caught slightly. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding.

"Whatever you decide, it is your choice. And I will stand by you." His lips quirked into something almost like a smile. "I would burn the world to the ground before I let anyone make you feel otherwise."

The lump in your throat grew. You ducked your head slightly, blinking rapidly, hands curling in your lap.

"I know," you whispered. And you did. You always had. Your father had always put your first in his life.

It had always just been the two of you growing up, and that was always enough.

Silence settled between you for a moment, warm and familiar. Then, your father exhaled, patting your shoulder lightly before standing.

"Enough of this," he said, his usual edge returning. "If you’re going to be distracted, at least make it productive. Five more rounds."

You blinked up at him before a small smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, Sensei."

"That’s my girl," he the corner of his lips twitches up.

And just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

You stood at the center of the red mat, chest rising and falling heavily as the weight of the moment settled over you. Sweat clung to your skin, adrenaline still pumping through your veins, but none of it mattered.

Because you had done it. You won.

Axel stood beside you, carrying the same large trophy that you held. But when Mr. Braun’s voice echoed through the speakers, the finality of it hit.

"And the winners of the Sekai Taikai—Axel Kovačević and Y/N Diaz of The Iron Dragons!"

The entire arena erupted in cheers.

Your teammates swarmed you and Axel, fists pumping in the air as they cheered.

Sensei Wolf stood among them, his expression unreadable for only a moment before the corners of his lips twitched into something subtle, something proud.

Axel let out a breath before turning to you, his eyes shining with something deeper than just victory. His hand found yours, squeezing once before he lifted both your arms into the air, embracing the win in full.

Four-time world champions.

Your heart pounded as golden confetti rained down, the announcers still speaking, but their words drowned under the rush of it all.

Then, before you could even process it, a familiar presence stepped in front of you. Your dad.

You barely had time to react before his hands came to rest firmly on your shoulders, pulling you back to reality.

His dark eyes held yours, and for once, they weren’t as sharp, weren’t assessing. Instead, they were filled with something softer. Something rare.

"You’ve come far, my Xiǎolóng," he murmured, voice steady but thick with emotion. "From the moment I first held you, I knew you were meant for greatness."

He exhaled, fingers tightening ever so slightly. "And today, you proved it to the world."

Your throat tightened, your usual shyness keeping you from finding the words. But he didn’t need them. He never did.

Instead, you simply nodded, blinking the tears away as your hands curled into his sleeves, gripping the familiar fabric.

His lips quirked slightly before he pulled you into a rare embrace, his grip strong, unwavering.

"I am proud to be your father."

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, the warmth of his words settling deep into your chest. You didn't need anything else. This was your family. This was enough.

From a few feet away, Miguel watched.

He had seen it all, the way your Sensei, your father, looked at you, spoke to you. He saw the way you had found a home, a life, something you didn’t seem to want to replace.

And as much as the ache settled in his chest, he couldn’t be upset. Because you were happy and you had won.

And even if you didn’t want to know him, even if you never spoke to him again, he was still your brother. He was still proud of you.

A soft smile found his lips as he clapped along with the crowd, quietly celebrating you in the only way he could.

You watched as the confetti blew through the air, a soft smile tugging at your lips a you embrace your moment with your dojo.

Then, a familiar presence stepped beside you. Your boyfriend.

"You did it," Axel murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced up at him, finding his dark blue eyes already on you.

"We did it," you corrected quietly.

His lips twitched, but then his expression shifted into something more sincere.

Without warning, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of confetti from your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

You stilled, warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, in a rare moment of open affection, he leaned down, just enough so only you could hear him.

"I knew you would."

He tilts your chin up to look at him, before softly brushing his lips against yours. Your chest tightened, heartbeat stuttering in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline anymore.

As he pulled back, you ached to say something back, but the words tangled in your throat. Instead, you did what felt right.

You reached out, fingers curling around his wrist before pulling him into a hug.

Axel stiffened slightly, always caught off guard by affection, but then, slowly, he melted into it, his arms wrapping securely around you.

For the first time this past week, the noise, the crowd, the weight of everything faded.

And it was just the two of you.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

part two

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: i wasn't too sure how the reader and Tory were supposed to be besties so i apologize on not being able to incorporate that part but this was actually kind of sweet, can sensei wolf be this soft all the time? i loved shy reader too, changes things up. glad i was able to get this out, i'll be out of town till Sunday so i won't have my laptop, i don't think i'll do much writing till i get back. anyway, like, comment, reblog love y'all, hope you're enjoying your spring break! ❤️)

#axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic imagines #axel kovacevic #axel x reader #axel kovacevic imagine #cobra kai #axel cobra kai #miguel diaz #sam larusso #eli moskowitz #tory nichols #miguel diaz x reader #cobra kai fanfiction

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sinning-23 · 9 months ago

Text

Backseat Pillow Princess (Pt.2)

And by popular demand (and because ei couldn't just leave it how I had it and planned on making a part 2 anyway) I BRING YOU PT.2! I really tried to conjure of some kinky freak nasty shit in this y'all so uhhh just be dually noted that I really tried my best with this.

Warnings: tag-team, p in v, multiple rounds, refractory period? we don't know her, creampie, unprotected, biting, choking, eiffel tower in a fucking car dude it gets wicked, nipple play, edging, degrading, praise, light banter, how did we end up outside the gd car????, spit as lube

Hope yall enjoy lol the endingit idk ill probably tweak it later yall pls dotn shame me i was starting to feel bad for makingyall wait so long!

Enjoy~

PT.1 HERE

______________________________________________________________

It all happens so fast that you can hardly register the clash of teeth and tongue. You can feel the growl that rises up his throat and past his lips on your own, the taste metallic but sweet.

You’re breathless, Wade attacking your neck with the same speed and intensity. Your senses are overwhelmed, body riding a 9-hour (give or take) high.

"You are a fucking sicko, you’re soaked through the leather." Logan grunts, tugging your lower lip with his canines,

"Forget that, look at her tits," Wade gasps, looking at the little bumps your hardened nipples made through the fabric.

Part of you should feel embarrassed but you can’t seem to function when there're two separate mouths and two pairs of hands adorning your body. If your uniform wasn't torn to shreds, it definitely was now, a familiar set of claws slicing latex leather away from your flesh easily.

"Great now what am I supposed to wear when this is over?! At least be a little nice to me!" You huff, peeling the shredded fabric away before attacking the older man before you.

A bit surprised, Logan leans back against the door, your chest flush against him as your breaths mix, hot and heavy in the space. You can feel Wade shift, large hands at your hips with your ass against his pelvis. Finding Logan’s zipper was easy, your fingertips tugging at it as you caught his lower lip between your teeth.

"C'mon let's make this fair. I’m the only one showing some skin.” You purr, pulling the little piece of metal down to reveal tanned, toned abs. The thin sheen of sweat and blood makes them glisten.

You practically drool, the sight of them in the moonlight now seared into your brain.

"Jesus you're built like a brick fucking wall-" You gasp, hesitating to touch before running your hands down Logan's chest, then stomach.

"Like a godddamn marble sculpture," Wade adds, taking his chance to admiring the man beneath the both of you.

He chuckles a bit, shrugging his sleeves off before connecting your lips again. It’s shot though, mostly because you can’t help but look at him.

“Nuh uh, lemme see you.” You command, pushing him back against the door.

He groans, your lip tucking beteeen your teeth as you presses kisses to his pulse, trailing downward as his neck flexed perfectly with the rest of his torso and stomach.

“Gorgeous.” You mumble, finally making your way down to his v-line before licking a stripe right back towards, ending it with a faint bite.

“Shame I can’t mark you up how I want, you’ll just heal it.” You sigh, thumbs tracing Logan’s belt now.

You grind down, a heavy, “oh fuck,” leaving your lips as Wade chuckles from behind you. Speaking of which, he had managed to pull your uniform a little past your ass, his hands squeezing the flesh there.

Of course you can’t help but tilt your head back, accepting sloppy open-mouth kisses from the mercenary when he cups your pussy from behind. Purposefully dragging his middle finger between your folds, his mouth swallows up your whimpers, a grin ever present over the lower half of his scarred face.

"Shit you weren't lying, she is soaked." Wade huffs, licking a stipe up your neck, his chest flush against your back

"You know I had to find a way to get your attention, I was starting to feel left out?" Wade taunts, his ring and middle finger two-knuckles deep in you, the squelching echoing.

Logan, eager to please makes a point to suck a mouthful of your tits, his canines grazing over them. He growls, breathing hot against your skin. His free hand cups your other, thumb swiping over your nipple as your palm presses down against his bulge.

"You gonna take it out or just keep pushing on it?" Logan grumbles, hips rolling into you.

It's hard to think, pleasure flooding your senses as you try your hand at helping his length spring free. Fuck, he's rock hard. And soon enough it's in your hand, hard, hot, and dripping with precum.

If you had to give an example of a photogenic dick, his would be at the top of your list. It's got a slight upward bend, the tip slightly tanned as beads of precum rolled down the side. And right beside that slick train that oozes downward, is a thick vein adorned by a smaller one. Your mouth waters, tongue lulling out of your mouth to taste it.

You're stopped, however, when Wade grips your hair, reminding you that HE is the one with his fingers in you, making your pussy drool with each thrust.

You pause, squeezing the base of Logan's dick in response, just to have the male sigh heavily under you.

"Almost lost your manners huh? That's okay I'll help you." Wade announces, seeing the brief irritation flash behind Logan's hazel eyes.

"You ask when you want something," Wade huffs, tone low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, taking a deep breath through your nose before using your thumb to press down on the tip.

"Please?" You whimper, mouth watering now, needing nothing more than to wrap your lips around his length.

"Please what, honey?" Logan encourages, using his thumb to push past your kiss-bitten lips and press down on your tongue, the saliva dripping down his palm and forearm.

"Please let me suck it." You finish, a satisfied grin finally filling Logan's features.

He nods his head in your direction, his fist at the base as you roll your tongue out your mouth, engulfing the tip, tasting the bittersweet precum slide down your throat. He groans, releasing his hand the farther down you go.

You thank the gods above for your almost nonexistent gag reflex, because once you got a feel for just how he settled in your mouth,you wasted to time getting him acclimated to your throat.

"Fuckkkk that's it, honey, swallow." He grunts, flashing those pretty canines as you do exactly what he says, the flex of your throat making his hand shoot to your head.

Between the feeling of you gulping Logan down and Wade's fingers still stretching you out, you're bound to reach your peak at any minute now. And then you feel it.

Empty for a moment, and finally...

"What, you didn't think I was getting this pussy ready for nothing did you?" Wade chuckles, your spine shivering when his tip slid between your aching wetness.

Arching more, Wade grabs a nice handful of the flesh between your hips and your ass, easily filling your needy cunt as you lift your head, gasping in response to the stretch. A sign of saliva connects your lower lip to the slightly reddened tip of Logan's cock. All you can do is whimper, bracing yourself as Wade thrusts into you, pace quick and calculated.

"F-uck!' You hum, each thrust breakign up the syllabus

Your hands scrath at Logan's chest, using him as an anchor to keep yourself from cumming too quickly. He only chuckles, tugging your hair to place a bruising kiss on your lips, his free hand using your saliva to pick up where you'd left off.

"Squeezing, fuck you're tight." Wade huffs, teeth sinking into your shoulder as Logan's lips swallow up your painfully pleasured whine.

"Close, so close, need it" Is all you can muster up, your hips now meeting his in an attempt to speed the process up.

And sure enough, the knot that had worked its way into your core finally snaps, your strangled moans filling up and pouring out the Honda, your head throwing itself back, as you ride out the high. All you can hear are praises and encouragement from behind and in front of you, all of which are fading in and out as your ears ring.

'Thats it'

'C'mon honey give it to me'

'Good fucking girl'

'So wet holy shit'

'Look how fuckin pretty you are'

'That arch, jesus christ'

"Sooo good, oh fuck yes." You whine, tucking your lower lip between your teeth.

Once your eyes manage to flicker back open, you're met with the prettiest view, and you gasp at the sight, already feeling yourself ready for another round.

Thee he was, eyes screwed shut, brows creasing as his chest rises and falls in time with his fist, which was now dripping with thick, silky looking ropes of cum. His jaw is clenched, a growl bubbling past his lips as you reach your hand down to help guide him, the substance coating your fingertips.

"You look so pretty when you cum." You hum, then grabbing his jaw to give another forecefull yet intimate kiss, your tongues slipping past one another.

“My turn,” Logan growls, pulling the door open in one swift movement before tugging your body outside the car.

You gasp, legs feeling more like jelly after Wade had already turned your insides to mush.

You wobble a bit, using the edge of the door to steady yourself before you’re stuffed full again. An overstimulated moan forces its its way out of you. He feels even better inside than in your palm. And yet, he doesn’t move, the sound of Logan’s hollow, shaky breaths mere centimetres from your ear.

“Oh honey.” He groans, his hips moving just to slam back into you, a pleasured yelp leaving your lips in response.

“Can hardly take it, look at you fucking shaking.” He chuckles, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, your head falling foreward as you’re overwhelmed with so many different feelings. The pain from the fight mixed with the pleasure from his strokes and the previous orgasm.

“Don’t- oh Fuckk. Don’t patronize me-.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the door for dear life, the smack of his pelvis to your ass loud and rhythmic.

As if you weren’t already fucked out, Wade managed to scoot riiiiight in front of you, just enough so that his cock is resting against your cheek, and god does your mouth water.

“Let’s keep you busy, huh sweetie?” Wade hums, his tip pressing against your glossy lower lip.

You’re eager to accept, letting your tongue roll around the head before taking as much of him as you can. Every slight thrust of his hips pushed him further and further down your throat, alive dripping down your chin and onto the torn, blood-stained seats below.

It doesn’t take long before you’re right back to square one, legs trembling as your labored breaths quicken in pace.

“Ohhh fuck, squeezing. You’re about to cum arent you honey?” Logan chuckles, squeezing the flesh of your hip before landing a brutal smack to your ass.

He smirks at the sight of the recoil, and doesn’t it again, each smack leaving a nice shade of red. You don’t even have a chance to warn him before you cum, the blissful feeling making you shudder, throat coated with sticky release as Wade tangles his fingers in your scalp.

What you weren’t expecting, was for your release to trickle down your thighs, each thrust only making your squelch more and more. The familiar twinge of overstimulation ravages your senses as you swallow down Wade’s release.

And unfortunately, you’re empty again, peeking over your shoulder just to see Logan finishing on the perfect curve of your back. The pearly beads of cum rolling down your ass and up your spine.

There’s a few beats of silence, paired with the laibored breathes or three violent and fucked out regenerarive assholes.

But of course, Wades specially is breaking silence.

“Hey how come you didn’t squirt for me?” He huffs in faux disappointment.

You can practically hear Logan roll his eyes, whom of which had made a point to massage where he had hit earlier.

“Please shut the fuck up.” Logan huffs, shuffling around the car to either A: find something to clean you up with or B: something for you to wear.

Either way, you're beyond fucked out, the previous tension finally dying down as you're bathed in moonlight. It takes a little effort from the two males but they successfully lean you against the middle console.

Lucky for you, there just so happened to be an extra set of clothes hidden in the trunk most likely belonging to the variant you got this stupid car from anyway.

Meh, I think missing clothes will be the least of his worries considering this piece of shit car is absolutely thrashed...

And now tainted with spit and cum-

Tag list: @awoodsysimp411 @solheartz @brucebannerswifey @oscarissac2099 @yourlocalhot-simp @of-daisies-and-dandelions @peachybaby255 @bby-pinky-pink @mimi786 @bontensbabygirl @jupiterlvr @silverloveless @saturnhas82moons @zeeader @queermaxwooo @turtlefordestiel @dumpster-hellfire @kultofkorii @mxtaurus @bumblebeebutter @buryth3hatchet @9iavolo @speedybeta @myersobsessed

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honeylations · 10 months ago

Text

NING YIZHUO x FEM!READER

Prompt: Yizhuo kept forcing herself to remember that you were an enemy, but how could she when you two were once together?

Warnings/Notes: g!p reader, mafia au, secret relationship, forbidden relationships, eventual smut, unprotected sex, creampie, eye contact, lovers to somewhat enemies to lovers

“You called for me, father?” Yizhuo calls appearing through the large doors of her father’s office.

The old man stared at his board full of photos and evidence of where you possibly could be so he could plot your ending. He wanted nothing but to destroy your team, you especially. To steal your wealth, and most importantly, the title of the strongest mafia known to mankind.

Actually the main reason he wanted to kill you so bad was because you were once in a relationship with his daughter, Yizhuo. Of course, that had to be kept secret but the cat got out of the bag when he walked in on you banging his daughter on the living room couch.

Many shots were fired that night, but it left you in heartbreak when Yizhuo was forced to dump you and cut all contact. That never stopped you from holding onto hope, knowing Yizhuo wouldn’t give up so easily like that.

“Yes my darling, take a look at these new photos. I think my new plan of killing Y/n will succeed”

“I don’t get why you can’t let me go back to her. It would be like handing her to you on a silver platter”

“As if I’d let that disgusting woman go near you! You disappointed me enough when you two were mingling behind my back. You’re clearly not trusted enough to do this mission!”

Yizhuo sighed deeply. “You’re making this harder for yourself, father. I no longer have feelings for that person, and as I have more personal knowledge about Y/n, the mission would be done and dusted”

Her father rubbed his chin with uncertainty until he gave in to the cold eyes his daughter was giving him. “Alright fine. This is your only chance to prove yourself, Yizhuo. If I find out you screw this up, I will not hesitate to disown you. Your money, status GONE! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes father” Yizhuo simply says and turns on her heel to make her exit.

She already had a plan set in mind, not willing to let past memories get the best of her. She reminded herself again and again and again that what you two had no longer existed, but why did it keep tearing her heart apart?

Yizhuo wondered if you still loved her after she left you without a goodbye. If you would still want her, knowing your relationship was dangerous.

Yizhuo sighed to herself when she managed to sneak into your wealthy house professionally, dressed in her black attire and a gun hiding in her pocket.

She snuck up to your bedroom and hid in your closet while you finished up in the shower. Yizhuo was peeking through the gap she made for herself, aiming her gun at the perfect angle so she could kill you with one shot the moment you walk out that door.

But her movement froze when you finally appeared from the bathroom. You only wore a sports bra and boxers, hair freshly dried and your tattoos exposed.

Ones that Yizhuo has touched many times.

Your biceps flexed as you ran both hands through your hair and your abs got toner. The sight was enough to make Yizhuo drool.

She was so focused on eyeing you that she didn’t realise you had called out her name. Her heart stopped.

“I know you’re there, Yizhuo. It’s safe to come out” you calmly said, turning around to face the slightly opened closet.

The Chinese girl finally presented herself but with the gun up, pointing directly at you, but you remained unfazed. You allowed Yizhuo to stand in front of you, feeling her push the head of the gun on your abs while looking up into your eyes.

“Any last words Y/n?”

“Don’t play this game with me, Ning Yizhuo”

“I’m not joking”

“Neither am I. I know you don’t really want to kill me”

Yizhuo tilted her head. “And what would you know?”

“You’re gonna stand there and pretend that you weren’t eye fucking me from the closet a few minutes ago?”

The shorter girl gulped at the heat rushing through her cheeks. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Ning, I still love you…” you finally blurted out. “Did you think I’d give you up so easily after dumping me like that?”

Yizhuo didn’t know what to say. The decision of killing your or kissing you was messing with her sanity. “I-It was for our own good”

“Your father thought it was for our own good. Ning, this is about what you want, not what he wants, okay? Put this down” you grabbed the gun from Yizhuo’s hand, letting the bullets scatter beneath your feet and then ditching the unloaded gun somewhere in the room.

Yizhuo looked down at her feet but you were quick to tilt her head back up with the soft lift of your finger. “To this very day, you’re the girl I want to be with forever”

“We can’t do this Y/n…my father will be distraught”

“So let him. You’ll be safe with me no matter what, Ningie. I will protect you until my last breath”

You gently grabbed the shorter girl’s hands to wrap them around your neck as you found comfort in holding her hips. “My princess, come back to me please”

There goes Yizhuo’s sanity.

Her heart was already overpowering her decisions and she realised there wasn’t a point in running away again. So she followed the electrifying feeling to lean up and kiss you.

You sighed with relief into her soft lips.

She was finally yours again.

Everything started to escalate, feeling Yizhuo’s hands have an adventure across your biceps before making their way down to your clothed cock. Giving it a firm squeeze that caused your chest to swell…along with other things.

You pulled your lips back to look into your lover’s eyes, not needing to search for what she wanted. The lust and passion were a clear answer and you were more than happy to give your princess everything.

“I missed you so much” you whispered.

Yizhuo easily became a blushing mess.

“Come and show me then, darling”

You indeed showed her when you laid Yizhuo on your bed, eagerly eating her cunt as she fisted your sheets, back arched up in pleasure. She held onto your head for impossibly more, moaning your name like a song and begging that you’d let her cum.

“Oh my god, Y/n-ie! Please don’t stop baby”

Your tongue explored her insides, forgetting just how addicting your lover’s pussy was. You soon replaced the fill with two of your fingers while you moved up to her neglected clit, the sudden change got Yizhuo screaming.

“H-Hah! Yes yes right there—o-oh I’m cumming! I’m cumming Y/n-ie, oh fuck!”

Her walls tightened around your fingers as Yizhuo shook beneath you, your name repeated from her lips while coming down from the intense orgasm she hasn’t experienced in a while.

You crawled up to kiss her panting lips and smirked. Yizhuo was tired but that doesn’t stop her from getting pissed off by your teasing grin. “The fuck your smirking at?”

“I like it when you cum”

“Charming of you to say”

You chuckled and eased her annoyance by kissing at her marked up neck. “Mmm my pretty girl. Ready for me?” You asked with two fingers rubbing at her soaked cunt.

“Just be gentle…I-It’s been a while”

“Why? Has nobody ever filled you up like I could?” You smugly said.

“I just haven’t been with anyone since we broke up, dumbass”

You titled your head. “Oh. Me neither”

Now Yizhuo titled her head. “Oh? That’s a surprise”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled. “You think I’d become some slut so easily?”

Yizhuo shrugged. “You’re a pretty girl. I wouldn’t be surprised”

You hummed and stared into your lover’s eyes, gently pushing the tip of your cock through her folds. “I’m going to remind you Ning Yizhuo that you’re the only woman I’ll ever be with”

The shorter girl grasped onto your bicep as you pushed in further. “O-Oh god. S-so fucking big”

“And this will be my final reminder, Princess” you growled into her ear, finally filling her up entirely.

God, everything about you was so hot. The way you nipped at her earlobe, rubbing her waist, and whispering sweet nothings to help her adjust.

“This tight pussy will only be for me, baby”

She whimpered and sniffled at the stretch. Okay maybe Yizhuo was getting a tad bit emotional because she was supposed to grant her fathers wish of killing you, but here she was finally back into your heart while also getting dicked down perfectly by your thick long meat.

“I’m yours Y/n-ie”

“Atta girl. And I’ll always be yours” you kissed her jaw. “Need more time, Princess?”

“N-No, you can move. But slowly please”

“Whatever my girl wants”

You carefully watched your girlfriend’s reaction when you pulled your hips back and eased back into her like she asked. Yizhuo’s lips parted as she released another beautiful moan. You grabbed her face and kept her eyes on you.

“Look at me, angel. Want you to keep it that way while I fuck you like crazy. Can you do that for me?”

Yizhuo choked out another moan when you repeated your hip motion. “I-I’ll try”

You adjusted your position for more comfort and held under your girlfriend’s knees to keep her close. “I’m going to make up for lost times, my love”

Your hips started moving faster, enjoying the squelching sound of Yizhuo’s pussy when your pelvis would smack against her skin. The simple order you gave to her was getting difficult.

The pleasurable feeling made Yizhuo’s eyes roll back but she quickly made sure she went back to staring into your dark eyes. She felt so lost in them, finding the eye contact absolutely sexy, she could cum easily like this.

Her lower lip was trapped between her teeth when you sped up more, grunting with every thrust and the feeling of your tip hitting her cervix.

“A-Ah fuck Y/n-ie!”

“God you feel so good around me, princess”

Yizhuo pouted with her whimpers, feeling one of your hands grab her breast wnd thumbing her nipple. The other hand held her neck, caressing the purple marks you stamped with your lips earlier.

“Looking so pretty like this for me. Taking my cock so well”

“I want to cum again, Y/n-ie please? I wanna cum all over your big cock!”

“Yeah? You really want that, Princess?”

She nodded with an innocent pout. “Claim me again, baby. Want you to own me!”

The words almost made you choke on your spit but your movements never faltered. Instead, you leaned down to hug Yizhuo close to your body and practically hammer your cock into her tightening walls.

“Fuck yeah, I own you, Princess. All. Fucking. Mine”

You kept your face close to her’s, eye contact never breaking but Yizhuo was close to losing the battle when your cock was reaching all the right places.

Her vision was becoming blurry from all the pleasure but you snapped her out of it by giving her a dizzying kiss. Her eyes shut tight when your tongue wrestled her’s, moaning and grunting into her lips.

“Oh fuck! Right there right there, I’m cumming!” Yizhuo threw her head back, letting your lips rest against her neck.

Your stomach was tightening as well as Yizhuo’s cunt. It only took a couple more hard deep thrusts before you reached the stars, emptying endless ropes of your cum inside your lover, seeing that she had already coated your entire length with her juice.

Both of you were left breathless and you took the last bit of energy you had left to slowly pull you cock out and lay down with Yizhuo’s head on your chest.

You cranked up the AC in your room and allowed your bodies to cool down, holding her close and running your fingers down her back.

“So what now?” Yizhuo broke the silence, tracing your tattoos.

“Send your dad a text that you’re with me now. I’ll handle the rest baby girl” you smiled and kissed her head.

“He’ll try to kill me….and you…”

“No he won’t. I won’t let him”

“But—“

“Princess, don’t worry. I’ll take care of us”

Yizhuo smiled and allowed herself to sink into your warmth. “Alright”

“I love you, Ning”

The words gave her butterflies. “I love you too, baby”

#gxg #wlw #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #ningning smut #ning yizhuo #ningning

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anim-ttrpgs · 4 months ago

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Announcing a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Game Jam!

We're hosting a game jam over on itch.io! Submissions open in March, 2025 and will remain open until April, 2025!

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is a groundbreaking TTRPG that revolutionizes mystery investigation of all kinds! The rulebook is available at this link for free! This community event gives long-time fans and newcomers alike a chance to flex their mystery-writing muscles.

Leave behind the days of "We walk into the room and roll Investigate." Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is a TTRPG all about investigation, and its purpose-driven mechanics let players take initiative, use their characters' unique strengths to find clues, and deduce conclusions themselves. This game jam will bring the community together to write more mysteries for their characters to solve, put together in adventure module form. You can find a helpful guide to writing Eureka mystery modules in Chapter 7 of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy rulebook linked above.

This game jam is non-competitive, but the developers' favorites will be linked on the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy store page so everyone can play through your creation! You can work alone or in a team, as long as you follow these basic rules.

While you're working, and especially if you have questions, join us on the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club Discord Server. It's a club for discussing and playing all kinds of RPGs, not just Eureka, run by the creators of Eureka. You can also join our "Top Secret" Patreon Discord server and further support the A.N.I.M. team by subscribing for any amount to our patreon. We'll be happy to answer your questions about this game jam or Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy either way.

(Full submission rules below the Read More)

Rules

Submissions Must Be Adventure Modules and Be Compatible with Eureka: This game jam is for mystery adventure modules to be run with Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. If you're unfamiliar, an adventure module is a guide for game masters to running a specific scenario for their gaming group. You can find an example of one made for Eureka alongside the rulebook linked above.

Follow the Theme: The theme/prompt picked out by our patreon subscribers is "The Call." By design, this prompt is flexible and leaves room for interpretation - are the characters beset by mysterious phone calls? answering a mysterious call for help in the forest? or something far stranger? (Just remember not to make it about mind-control - Eureka doesn't have that.) Your submission can be about any sort of mystery, as long as it is obviously inspired by this prompt in some way, however you interpret it. Just also make sure to follow the rest of the rules below.

Third-person Verbiage: Avoid saying "you" when referring to player-characters.

Separation of Player and Character: Ensure that your module says "investigators" when it is referring to the player-characters, and "players" when it is referring to the real people sitting around the table, and don't get them mixed up.

Characters Can Be Bigoted, but We'd Rather You Weren't: NPCs in your module may express hateful attitudes, but we do not approve of hateful attitudes from submitters themselves.

Stay Grounded in Eureka's Lore: Please keep your module roughly within the bounds of what the world of Eureka offers. You can read more about this within the first half of Chapter 8 in the rulebook linked above. (And remember, your submission doesn't have to be a paranormal mystery!)

Submissions Must be 5,000 Words Minimum: There is no upper limit, so be careful not to overdo it, as long as your submission has at least 5,000 words. This is the bare minimum size. Most good Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy adventure modules are about 50-100 pages, as Eureka really stresses providing detailed information to the GM and players alike.

No Generative AI: Do not submit anything that has been created in whole or in part through the use of generative "AI."

We Don't Own Your Submission: Your submission is still your property. You can even sell it after the game jam is concluded if you want. Though if you do, we recommend you keep working on it a bit to polish it up, since one month is plenty of time to get a first draft out, but even the best submissions will benefit from some critique and further refinement and editing!

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bunnysbrainrot · 1 year ago

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A Lesson in Manners

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Romantic tension, protective Dean, alcohol consumption, a weird guy ft. the way Dean handles it.

Summary: After a long, exhausting day of hunting, Team Free Will unwinds with drinks at a nearby bar. You're enjoying your time until a stranger decides to pester you, but that won't go unnoticed by Dean.

The signature purr of the Impala faded as Dean turned off the ignition, releasing a heavy sigh, a defeated and tired noise. Whatever nasties they have down here in Georgia have been difficult. All signs in this case were pointing to a djinn, but without getting in closer, there was no way to be completely sure.

That risk was left to Sam and Dean, as they had told you yesterday, when the research finally fell into place.

Sam's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at his laptop screen, his brows twitching. He deadpanned and looked to his brother, "Djinn. How the hell didn't we think of that yet?"

Dean matched Sam's frustration with a scoff. He simply shook his head.

Djinn were unfamiliar to you still. Though you had done a fair bit of research, helpfully guided by Sam, and learned quite a lot. But, you also knew that research and experience were very, very different for a hunter.

"Awesome, so... what?" Dean inquired, raising a brow at Sam. You sat in the small armchair in the boys' motel room, looking between them. "We gonna go into blood-sucking paradise-dream-world again?"

Sam flashed a quick smile, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that. Do we have any more lamb's blood?"

Dean's expression changed to annoyance, "Not after that dickbag Balthazar used it for that stupid parallel-universe crap." He crossed his arms over his chest and threw his head back in thought. "And where are we supposed to get it, anyway? We're in the middle of friggin' nowhere."

"Cas?"

"If we could even get a hold of him."

"I'm sure he's still listening, Dean. I know he's been here and there for a while, but-" Sam explained.

Whirling to face his brother, Dean countered, "'Here and there'? Sam, we basically wait three to five business days for him to give us anything. If he's so focused on Heaven right now, let him stay up there."

You had seen Dean's rising upset with his friend for a few weeks now, seeing the angel's presence less and less. Castiel didn't indulge any details, and kept recollections vague - but, the lack of transparency had been taking a toll on the group.

He’d been absent for two weeks now. Nothing.

Dean's lengthy sigh showed his stress. He brought a hand up to his brow; Sam rolled his head to stretch his neck in the passenger seat.

"I need a fuckin' beer," Dean breathed.

You laid a hand on his shoulder from the seat directly behind his - Sam was more conversational on long drives, so sitting on the left side gave good distraction in the long hours on the road. Dean craned his neck to you, looking to you expectantly.

Because as much as he didn't like to admit it, Dean craved the moments when you touched him.

You couldn’t tell if you spooked him, judging by the way Dean froze in his seat, eyes boring directly into yours. A grin spread across your face, "Let's get shitfaced."

Dean shook his head and pointed to you, "You don't wanna get to shitfaced level with me, sweetheart. Just a few beers. Plus, I’ve seen you get tipsy even after one."

Each of you started stepped out of the Impala, respectively stretching your achy legs, or arms, or backs or neck and everything else. No matter the hunt, the soreness remained the same. You released a groan as you lean backward, flexing your stiffened spine. Dean neared and landed a gentle pat between your shoulders to get you moving along.

You noticed how quickly Dean pushed ahead to open the front door, before you had the chance to lift a finger. He looked into the cracked door - an assessing glaze cast over his eyes. Always on the lookout for danger.

Who could keep you safer than Dean Winchester?

After all of his impressive feats so far, it’d be hard for someone not to admire Dean. Saving the world was easier on the drawing board, and with having been to hell and back, you couldn’t fathom the willpower he gained to push past it. Not a semblance of that traumatic experience showed in that handsome, stoic face.

Dean pressed the door ajar to make way for you and Sam. You scanned the tables and stools at the bar; patrons scattered around in clusters, each chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

The thick smell of liquor filled the air. You noticed the hints of whiskey, oddly reminding you of Dean, and the way that scent mixed with his cologne. You memorized that smell from his occasional hugs, or times where you’d sit together, and you’d wondered if he could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

Sam led the way toward a taller table in the corner of the joint, settling in a stool closest to the back emergency exit. You eyed the stool at the outer side, but a creeping feeling dawns on you - someone is staring. Settling into your stool, you took the chance to swivel around, looking for the source of that persistent feeling.

At the bar, a man with a scruffy beard had his eyes trained on yours, roving over your form in the chair. You exhaled, fighting back the feeling of disgust, and turned back to Sam, plastering on a terse smile.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

You paled slightly, the man’s stare still honed in on your back, “Dude at the bar has a staring problem.”

Sam leaned casually to reach for his pocket, craning his head for a swift second. A glint in his eye told you he’d found the perpetrator. Footsteps approached from behind - a familiar pattern, one you’d heard every day, and without turning you’d known it was Dean. A careful brush of his hand between your shoulder blades eased you, a gentle reminder he was here.

“Bottoms up, buttercup,” Dean teased, placing a shot of amber liquor in front of you, himself, and then his brother.

Three lime wedges rested on a plate, along with a salt shaker. You glance at Dean with a ‘seriously?’ look, and he gave a signature Winchester grin. You did say you wanted to get shitfaced. And hell, it could help with that looming creep. You licked the back of your hand and sprinkled some salt.

“To figuring something out,” you proclaimed, raising the shot glass. The boys follow your lead before clinking them on the table, and tossing their heads back.

The tequila burns the back of your throat, but the lime helps you ignore it. Sam held a steady face while Dean grimaced at the burn.

You giggled softly, “Can’t handle tequila, Dean?”

He flashed a toothy grin, and a quick middle finger. Your giggle evolved into a bright laugh that drew one from Sam, too.

“Bet you couldn’t handle pool, though,” countered Dean.

Sam eyed you from the side and threw a knowing smirk. You’d never back down from a challenge, especially when it was Dean testing you. There was a desire to beat him at his own games, to show him you could match his skill and then some.

Then there was the chase of it - cycles of teasing comments and passing glances, but never a break in the tension.

Your voice lowers, “I’ll take you on any day, Winchester.”

The jest made Dean grin. The chase was on again.

Sam stayed behind when you and Dean claimed a vacant pool table, letting you set yourselves up for the perfect one-on-one.

Dean nodded to you and eyed the cue ball. You bend at the waist over the table, and felt the creeping feeling again. It radiated along your spine to the nape of your neck, as if your body was set ablaze under the stranger’s stare.

Until suddenly, you had company.

“Say, think you could spare me a game when you’re done, beautiful?”

The voice matched the face. It was nasally with a copious amount of douchery; another entitled asshole who got involved when he wasn’t wanted.

Across the table, Dean’s brow twitched.

“Listen bud, we’re just getting started here. Plenty of other folks in here who can play you,” the edge in Dean’s tone was a warning in and of itself.

You hitched a breath awaiting the man’s reaction.

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Sam sliding off his barstool, slowly making his way closer to your pool table. He idly looked at his phone, but kept a watchful glance.

“I’m sure you’ll have the time for another one, right, baby?” The stranger’s words slurred stupidly. He didn’t address Dean with meeting his stare, and instead fought to have yours. He closed the gap between you two further - the smell of alcohol lingered on him, thick and nauseating.

You bark, “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Oh…. hic… ten seconds ain’t enough for me, sweetheart..”

Dean’s voice was taunting, probably trying to pull the dickbag away from you, “It’s plenty for us.”

Finally, the man looked to Dean, straightening his posture at the height difference. He was lean, but couldn’t hold a firm stance, by the looks of it. The man scanned Dean top to bottom before turning back to you.

Before crossing a crucial line.

A foreign hand stroked your spine, making you recoil. Anger contorted your features as you warned him yourself.

“Try that again, fucker,” you spat with disgust. You could still feel the touch on your back. Gross.

The man’s lips tug into a smile, and the anger continued to brew. Of course, you were not the only one with that bubbling rage. Dean has closed the distance before you could register he’d moved at all.

Dean loomed over the man with a haunting glare. To add fuel to the fire, the man had the gall to grin at the threat, raising his hands to Dean’s chest.

“Come on, jus’ gavin’ a lil’ fun,” said the stranger.

In one swift motion, Dean collected the man’s wrists with one hand, and delivered a hook with the other.

The blow knocked his head to the side. Other patrons turned to the scene unfolding - some turned back to their drinks, some kept staring. You gasped when Dean landed another strike, sending the man tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud.

“Dean, that’s enough, he’s-“

He didn’t react to your objection.

Behind the commotion, Sam’s eyes widen with shock, though he smiles with satisfaction at the takedown.

A final shove put enough distance between you and the pathetic drunk. You turned to see the bartender giving Dean a stern look, but they return to filling a pint glass.

You panted softly while the stranger walked away, bracing his bloodied chin with his hand. You looked to Dean and found his attention back at the pool table, letting out a frustrated grunt. There wasn’t a way to thank him. No need. The man had made great strides in protecting you, enough to reassure that you didn’t have to offer thanks. It came naturally, protecting one another.

Sam made his way back to the table and returned to his stool, shaking his head in disbelief, a smile on his face.

What a night, right?

It was Dean’s voice that brought you back to your senses. That same voice that calmed you, that ignited your body to its core.

“Alright, sweetheart, you go first.”

——

“Dammit, whathefuck- that isn’t fair-“ you protested. You’d lost, but kept trying to knock the striped pool balls into the pockets, insisting that there was some sort of rule to let you go until you were fully done, including the cue ball.

Sam handed you a glass of water, which you sipped on immediately. Your fingertips slowly grew numb against the cold glass.

Dean chortled as he collected the pool balls, “Shitfaced and pool don’t mix well, do they?”

You let out a tipsy laugh and shake your head at him. The moment stilled, where the rest of the scene faded away. Dean scanned you over, and held a too-long look. A small spark lit behind his eyes.

“Let’s getcha home.”

Thank you for reading! I liked this idea, and I think it could easily have a second part. Vote in the poll or me know in the comments if you’d like to see where this goes!

#fanfiction #supernatural #spnfandom #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #bunny writes #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader

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colourstreakgryffin · 1 year ago

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Hiii! Can I request headcanons on what vox would be like as a father of a teen daughter? I feel like he'd be great to gossip with and would tell her to slap any boy that hits on her

Vox absolutely fucking would do this, and he is that type of girl dad to loudly brag that his Princess is cuter than every other father’s! Vox be like: ‘You wish your daughter was as cute as mine’

Vox- Baby Laptop

Vox is extremely doting and loving but extremely protective. Like, he has cameras and drones following you, his fourteen year old human life AND demon life daughter, around all the time. You can’t leave the tower without him knowing and he won’t condone you walking around Hell without ALL his bodyguards escorting you

Vox is a bragger. He brags and he flexes what he has so when it comes to you, he is one-upping every known mother and father in the Pride Ring and flaunting his precious babygirl with no hesitation. You’re beautiful and Hell deserves to bask in your presence… according to Vox

Remember, your dad is the technology Overlord. The one in charge of every device in this city, so of course, he is kept to date with every trend or phrase or online concept and he always gives you the latest model his slaves team created. He spoils you since it’s a symbol of his love

Vox is basically your best gossip buddy and no matter how busy he is, he’ll make time to talk to you. Call him, he’ll answer and whilst he works, he’ll listen to you and he remembers it. He has a good open ear and a good sense of ‘fuck you all’ so he’ll get rather into your gossip pieces and consider asking Velvette to spread them through her social media influence

Vox is more than capable of getting sweet, soft and emotive with you. He always proclaims to you, with his whole heart, that he puts you out because he’s proud of you and adores you and he wants you to have everything when back on Earth, he could barely give you anything

Yes. Vox loves you MORE than he likes messing with Valentino so if Valentino dares to hit you, your father is bolting across the room at mach speeds to make his on-and-off boyfriend regret putting his hands on you. You’re his spoiled little princess and nobody touches you! You’re too valuable!

Vox has a picture of you in his wallet and in his suit pocket. So, whilst he is working tirelessly throughout the days and hasn’t seen you in a while. He’ll pick either photograph out and admire it. Both are direct recreations of photographs he owned when both of you were humans

Like Carmilla Carmine with her two daughters, Vox likes to have you occasionally work for him and occasionally means occasionally. Vox only cares that you’re happy so if you want to spend all day everyday in your big fancy room in his tower free of stress, he lets it!

However. Vox, of course, teaches you important life skills. He didn’t get a chance to when both of you were humans on Earth so he is now. Every night, he teaches you to cook recipes, he teaches you to do basic chores, he teaches you how to balance any money you earn

Vox almost views you as the cute babygirl he had back on Earth. The little five year old that was so happy to see him come home after so long of working so hard as a TV salesman in the late 1940s. The little girl who needed him to go to sleep at night, the precious darling who claimed she’d grow up and become a saleswoman too!

Vox does baby you and he doesn’t regret it. He coodles, he snuggles, he baby talks, he coos. He does all of it because he loves you dearly, you’re the single thing that drove him to become a Overlord, you’re the single thing that motivated him to become one of the strongest Overlords in Hell, you’re the single thing that even brought him to work with technology

Vox had always taught you; ‘if a boy or a girl hits on you, slap them’ and that became your norm. You come home, Vox asks what happened and you tell him. He is always happy to hear that you don’t let anybody bother you

The only criticism or advice Vox will take for his products is you so when you say something doesn’t work or needs improvement. He takes it and throws it as his workers so they can fix up what you said. He doesn’t care what his clients think, he cares what his own flesh and blood thinks

Vox loves how you have his TV head and even gets you to wear a matching outfit with him as a cute father-daughter joke. He likes it, it’s adorable. You look like such a badass business lady! He is that type of dad that will embarrass you with how much he loves you

Talking about a father-daughter situation, Vox has the weekends booked all for you. Two father-daughter days out so you two go to the shops, get drinks, gossip more, talk shit about Alastor, go egg the Hazbin Hotel, get some shopping then go to visit the Vees to chat then pick up a movie suggestion to go watch a movie together! Vox loves these days since he is truly himself with you

Vox legit has you in his contacts as the following; ‘My precious darling princess’

“Darling, Princess. It’s time to wake up, we’re going out together! Yes. To the movies and to the shops. I heard that old timey prick is in a Hotel so let’s go egg it once we’re done, ‘kay? Great, I’ll be waiting for you, pumpkin”

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x-imagines · 3 months ago

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Late Night Deductions - NSFW! MDNI spencer reid x gender neutral!reader

The BAU is quiet at this hour—most of the team has gone home, leaving only the clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of papers. You and Spencer are the only ones left, sitting across from each other at one of the large desks, case files spread out between you.

He’s been like this all night—stealing glances, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of a report. You can tell he’s overthinking, his mind working at a mile a minute.

"Spencer… what’s on your mind?"

Spencer’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, his fingers tightening around the pen in his grip. He still hasn’t answered your question.

"Spence," you try again, your voice softer now, teasing giving way to something more curious, more knowing.

"It’s nothing." He exhales, dragging a hand through his already-messy hair.

You smirk, leaning onto his side of the desk. "You’re a terrible liar."

It’s almost too easy, the way he unravels under your gaze. His mind might be brilliant, but his body betrays him—his breath a little too shallow, his fingers gripping his pen just a little too tightly.

You tilt your head, watching him carefully. "Do I make it hard to concentrate?"

He doesn’t answer with words. He just shifts in his seat—subtle, like he thinks you won’t notice, but you do. The way his knee bumps against the desk. The way his hands twitch, one clenching around his pen, the other sliding to his lap in a poor attempt at discretion.

Heat pools low in your stomach, a sharp, pulsing warmth spreading at the realisation.

Spencer Reid—brilliant, awkward, adorable Spencer Reid—is sitting across from you, flushed and fidgeting, with an obvious, desperate problem pressing against the front of his slacks.

He realises the moment you notice—his entire body goes rigid. His eyes squeeze shut.

"I can’t help it," he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, like admitting it out loud might kill him on the spot.

You can see everything—the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast, the nervous flex of his fingers against his thighs. The need in his eyes, barely masked beneath all of his restraint.

"Spencer." You say his name like a command.

His lips part—maybe to protest, maybe to beg, you’re not sure. But you don’t give him the chance to decide.

You pounce on him, kissing him, and whatever tension was holding him back snaps all at once.

His hands grasp at your waist, unsure but eager, pulling you flush against him. His lips are hesitant at first, soft and questioning, but the second you let out a small sigh against his mouth, something shifts.

His grip tightens. His breaths turn ragged. And when he pushes you back against the desk, scattering papers to the floor, he lets out a quiet, needy sound that might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

As Spencer clings to you, breathless and wrecked, you can’t help but think—work nights like these might just become your new favourite.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut

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strvberymin · 10 months ago

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After Sun - rafe cameron smau

ch 5: best friend's sister

tags: best friend's brother!rafe, f2l, older!rafe,

warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol

an: this part is written sorry if u don't like that :( really wanted this scene written out but im literally shit at writing so i hope it doesn't give u the ick

mlst

Rafe Cameron was having fun. Scratch that, Rafe Cameron was having a blast. You, on the other hand, not so much. It didn't take long to convince Sarah to go to the country club with you after seeing that picture of Rafe. Selfishly, you wanted to grab his attention and prevent him from having another random fling. Sarah was just down for the drama.

You didn't expect to spot him so quickly. You half expected him to already be locked away in some room. You also half wished he was in a room after seeing the way he was pressing the girl from the picture against the wall.

His big hands on her thighs, her toned arms around his neck. God, this felt like torture.

"Do you want to leave?" Sarah asked as soon as she spotted him.

Yes.

"No," you sighed, turning to her. "This is what we came for right?"

Sarah smiled before grabbing your hand and pulling you further into the club, towards an empty table. "So what's the plan?"

You had an even better view of Rafe from your table. You could see every muscle in his arms flexing as his hands ran up and down the girls body. You couldn't be more jealous of a person.

"So," you said, tearing your eyes away from them. "I need to find someone to entertain."

"Easy," Sarah said, pointing at numerous guys before you even had a chance to look around the room.

"You're more eager than I am." You laughed, glancing over your choices. The truth was, no one was coming close to beating Rafe. No one could even count as competition.

"No fucking way," Sarah gasped, "Tyler."

Your eyes widened, looking over to where Sarah was pointing. "No fucking way Sar!"

"PLEASE!" She yelled, grabbing you by the shoulders. "You know how much this is going to annoy Rafe!"

"Sar he hates him!" You yelled back before turning to look at Tyler. "Although he has gotten seriously hot."

Rafe was known for being a hot-headed teenager and an even more hot-headed adult. He was mostly liked, or at the very least respected throughout high school, but he had certain people he just couldn't stand (and they couldn't stand him).

He and Tyler were rivals in high school since they were both captains of the two rival basketball teams. You remember Rafe being on the verge of expulsion after a game because Tyler had elbowed him so hard on the nose that he had to sit the rest of the game out and so when the game was over, he performed a tit-for-tat show, punching Tyler in the face.

They were both older now and more mature, but the hatred didn't seem to slip away with the years. Just last year, they had gotten into a fight at the beach, and you had stepped in because Topper was too busy oiling up a girl blissfully. You remember Tyler had been very respectful of your presence and had walked away immediately, although Rafe had been the one to step away first.

So yes, Tyler would be the perfect candidate for your evil plan to work, but he also would be the lowest blow.

"Yn, you know this is the best timing ever." Sarah was almost shaking with excitement. You were almost shaking with anxiety. What if your plan didn't work and instead all you could manage to do was make Rafe hate you?

"Isn't this low Sar?"

"You know what's low? Topper making out with Allison. There's no way my brother doesn't know. Tit for tat. Now, wave him over before I do."

You sighed, looking back at Tyler. He was already looking in your direction, so you quickly took your chance to wave him over. He was skeptical for a second before letting his friend know he'd be right back.

You watched him make your way over to you and watched as Sarah slipped away slowly, giving you the thumbs up.

"Yn," he yelled over the loud music as he reached your table. "Hey!"

"Hi, Tyler!" You smiled before he pulled you in for a half hug. "Sorry I waved you over, I was just shocked to see you." You made up a quick lie as you both pulled away from the hug.

He smiled for a moment, taking you in before looking around the club, "You here alone?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, actually, I'm here with Sarah. Remember her?"

"Cameron's sister, yeah." His eyes moved back to you as his smile returned to his face. "Well, you've certainly grown."

"College treating me well, you see." You blushed, almost forgetting about your plan and why you were talking to him in the first place.

"You're in college now, huh?" he sighed in disbelief, "Are you drinking anything?"

Now he was getting to the point. You looked around and you felt your heart race as you caught Rafe staring at you from across the room. The girl was gone from his arms and a beer had taken her place in his right hand as he was leaning against a wall, talking to someone. He looked so pretty in his striped shirt, the first few buttons now undone, giving you a full view of his toned torso and his shiny chain. His hair, slightly wet over his forehead from the warmth of the summer night. His eyes burnt holes into you before focusing on Tyler.

You snapped your head back towards Tyler, "A lemon vodka would be nice."

He grinned, nodding swiftly. "I'll be right back."

You watched him leave and head towards the bar for a moment before your eyes were searching for Rafe again.

You found him still staring at you, an unreadable expression on his face. You gave him a short smile and a weak wave. You knew he didn't want you here. You had asked if you could come, and he had said no, so you were already overstepping before even talking to Tyler. You saw him give you a confused look before taking a sip of his beer. You furrowed your brows at him, mimicking his expression, and he rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the person who was talking. He thought that was the last of your interaction with Tyler.

As soon as you turned your head away to look for Sarah, Rafe's eyes were back on you. Now that he knew you were here, he couldn't get you out of his mind, and so he wouldn't let you out of his sight.

"I'm just not interested in paying 2m's for a fucking boat y'know?"

No, Rafe didn't know. He had stopped listening seven minutes ago when he spotted you across the room. "Yeah, man, definitely," he answered mindlessly, something that didn't seem to phase the speaker because he kept rambling on, saying his piece.

Rafe watched as you looked around the room. He watched as your black open-back mini dress stopped dangerously high on your hips. He watched as the dip of the open back lingered dangerously low on your spine. Watched as your hair moved flawlessly around with the summer breeze, watched as your fingers anxiously snaked around your gold bracelets, and watched as Tyler came back with your drinks.

Rafe was sure he hadn't felt so angry in ages. Probably since he crashed his back four summers ago. Or maybe seven summers ago, when he was forced to sit out the most important basketball game of his life, causing him to lose the scholarship he so badly wanted because a certain rival had decided to do everything in his power to secure a scholarship.

So, in other words, Rafe was fuming. He watched as you took the drink from him with a big smile. The sound of his heart racing and his blood boiling overshadowing every other sound around him.

Clueless to what was going on around you, he watched you take a sip. He had to stop himself from racing over to you and snatching that drink from your hands.

"Excuse me," he said to the guy next to him, who was left confused as he watched Rafe walk away.

He pushed through the crowd, ignoring people calling his name.

"Party's over, let's go." Rafe's voice sent shivers down your spine. His tone has never been like that around you. His voice, soft and silky, was always a sound you cherished. And it couldn't be more different than his voice now, low and threatening.

"Rafe," you breathed as you turned to look at him. His eyes dark and heavy, show and tell that he had been partying.

"I think it just started, man." Tyler spoke, a massive grin plastered across his face.

Rafe didn't turn to look at him. "Yn." His voice was firm. With the beer in his hand long gone, he reached out his right hand to touch your lower back gently. His rough hands firm but soft on your exposed skin made you shiver unwillingly. Regret was quick to wash over you as you realized how low you had stepped because of your jealousy.

"I think she wants to stay, brother." Tyler rasped from next to you. His hand gently pushed your hair out of your face as he leaned in closer, "Don't you?"

If Rafe hadn't been pushed over the edge, he was now.

"Get your fucking hand off her." He growled, shoving Tyler's hand away.

Tyler taken aback, took a step forward.

"Walk away." Rafe rasped pulling you closer.

"Rafey, let's go." You turned towards him, leaving your drink on the table.

Rafe's eyes softened at the sound of your voice. He could feel his hand burning at the bottom of your spine. He guided you away from Tyler before he could get a word in. All you heard was a loud scoff and something about the drink.

The walk out of the club was tense. His hand on your lower back made you feel as if you were on fire. His breath hitting the back of your neck pointedly, smelling of beer and mint. You didn't even notice you were shaking until you stepped completely off the club's terrace and headed towards the parking.

Rafe's hand was gone in a heartbeat once you entered the parking area. He walked behind you in silence, the hand that was touching you flexing by his side, aching to get rid of the burning sensation.

"Rafe-"

"Get in the car, Yn." His voice was firm. You stopped in your tracks and turned to look at him, observing him as he stepped around the car and into the driver's seat.

You followed and got into the passenger's seat. He didn't start the car, and so the silence became so thick you felt like you were choking.

"Sarah is also here..." You said weakly, scared of his silence.

"Fucking great."

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and you watched as he texted Topper. He locked the screen and threw his phone on the dashboard. His head fell back on the headrest, a loud sigh escaping his lips.

"Rafe-" you tried again.

"Are you into him?" he finally asked, looking over at you. His features tired and dark and filled with confusion.

"What?" you muttered, unsure of what he actually meant.

"Or do you hate me?" his voice was raspy. The firmness was long gone, and exhaustion had taken its place.

"Rafe what are you-"

"Do what you fucking want doll. Have JJ. Have Tyler. Fucking have them both. But don't do it in front of me because I won't stand for it." He breathed heavily. "You know how hard it was for me to not break his slimy fucking hand?"

You were at a loss for words. Your hands still shaky, adrenaline rushing through your body so quickly, making it hard to breathe. He looked desperate. His eyes tore away from you as he started the engine.

You reached out, your small hand grabbing his. He pulled away as if you burned him and got out of the car. You stayed still, your eyes wide. You had never seen Rafe like that before. His back was turned to you but you could tell from the way it moved he was breathing heavily. You turned back and looked out of your window, deciding to give him space.

Seconds later, he was back in the car. The way home seemed longer than it was. His eyes didn't roam, and neither did yours. You kept looking out the window until he pulled into the driveway of the summer house. Neither of you moved and after a minute of silence, you undid your belt.

The tension was thick. You had never felt so claustrophobic before in your life. You knew what you did was wrong but you didn't think it'd bother him this much. Or perhaps you did.

"You're my best friend's sister. So please, doll, don't make it so fucking hard for me."

And then he was out of the car.

#obx #rafe cameron #jj maybank #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron smau #after sun smau

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