#you couldn't ask an actual sports fan to drop their team like this

[reakeebz]

there's a possibility the tsc series will take place over the course of the following school year, and i just came to the harrowing realisation that we might have to change allegiances of who we want to win in the next exy season. which. i'm having a crisis bc it'll be the fox girls final year so i want them to win but also it will be jean's first year as a trojan so i'll want them to win and neil will be vice captain so i want them to win but we'll be in jerejean's pov so i'll want them to win. and the foxes better win bc i've always been a fox stan but the trojans better win for the plot. this is an impossible scenario ugh

[gavisuntiedboot]

Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tinder is not a great place to look for boyfriends, but neither is the workplace.

Gavi x Physiotherapist! reader. Slow burn. I can't make things fast he's gotta work for it. Smut? Not in this part but maybe eventually.

A/N: Hi everyone! Not super new on Tumblr but I have never been brave enough to post a fic despite my constant maladaptive daydreaming about imaginary scenarios. The stress of being sick and not wanting to write my personal statement have lead me to actually write this and post it online. Please be nice, hope you enjoy!

Song inspo: Just Pretend - Bad omens

Writing inspo: Plot inspired by @zeegaazeegaah and their amazing Gavi x physiotherapist imagine. Other inspirational accounts will be tagged at the end.

TW: None

Word count: 4.8K

"So what do you do?"

y/n hated this question. Even being asked for nudes might be preferable to being asked about her job. y/n had been on 12 first dates since moving back to Barcelona, and without fail every one of them had been ruined by this simple question. She considered lying - she could pass as a student or a waitress or even a model (ok maybe not a model): there were literally thousands of jobs she could pretend to have. But, being the idiot hopeless romantic that she was, she decided to be honest with the man across from her. What if Thiago from Tinder was her soulmate? She didn't want to ruin it by lying.

"I'm finishing my sports medicine and physiotherapy certification, so I am working with one of the football clubs here to do practical training and gain experience."

"Oh that's cool! Which club? You can tell me, I know most of the 3rd and 4th tier Catalan clubs, so I'll probably know it even if it's really small."

Wow. Thiago from Tinder was an overachiever: he messed up before she even said which club she worked for, which was faster than every other man she had been out with in the last four months. y/n took a deep breath and resisted the urge to leave before confessing where she worked.

"I actually work at a pretty well known club... F.C Barca. I think you might of heard of it?" y/n watched this man's jaw visibly drop. His eyes got wide and lit up, like someone had told him he had just won a brand new car.

"You're a physio at Barca?? No way! That's my team! I think I would actually commit manslaughter if Pedri asked me to. So you get to see all the players every day? And Xavi! Have you ever spoken to Xavi? Do you know he won Spain their first world cup? You might be too young to remember. That's so amazing!"

y/n felt all the muscles in her head tense as she focused all her energy on not rolling her eyes. A fanboy. Typical. This was the most common response she got when she said her place of work out loud. 6 of the last 12 first dates had been major fanboys for the club, talking endlessly about how they would steal and kill and get on their knees for Barca. One had even been so bold as to ask if she had ever seen Lewandosky naked, to confirm if some measurements he had seen online were true. While the fans were annoying, the haters were even worse. 4 different dates had said they felt bad that she worked at a "dying club", throwing up football statistics, and going red in the face when she said she could not possibly care less about who had more Champion's League wins.

Then there were those that went out of their way to offend her. You would think that a man trying to get laid would have some more common sense. But that didn't stop one of her tinder matches from calling her a liar in the middle of a restaurant. He was still on his first glass of wine, leaning back cockily in his chair when he said that La Liga would never allow female physios to work with the first team because women couldn't "handle the intensity of football injuries." She should have gotten up and left when he said that, but he was 6'3 with a brand new Porsche, so she let him buy her dinner and drive her home before telling him that she genuinely hoped he never interacted with a female doctor ever again, even if it was to save his life.

The worst had been when she went out with Jose. He had invited her to a pretty expensive spot in central Barcelona. They were having an amazing conversation until the fated job question. She had downed a good amount of wine at that point, and wasn't as cynical about the reaction as she usually would be, so she spoke about her role with pride. Big mistake. He perked up, then threw his head back and laughed. He laughed so loudly it startled the waiter clearing plates from the nearby table. "21 years old and working as a physio for F.C Barca... Who did you have to sleep with to get that job, hm? Xavi? La Porte himself? Or maybe someone at the university? Regardless, you must fuck like a pornstar to have landed a job like that. Can't wait to try it first hand." y/n said some choice words about Jose and his micropenis, and promptly left, seeking to avoid assault charges that night.

The truth was that y/n was extremely talented at what she did. She grew up watching football with her father and brother, developing an interest in working in sports professionally. She worked herself half to death during high school to be accepted into a sports science program in the U.S. She interned with the college teams there, learning about sports injuries and treating them. She finished her program in three years, and despite programs across Europe fighting for her, she came back to Barcelona to finish her physiotherapy certification. She would be lying if she said it was just for her family and friends. The program in Barcelona advertised opportunities to work with F.C. Barca, her favorite football club since birth. It was a love she inherited from her father, as shown by all her childhood pictures in the Blaugrana uniform.

The program was harder than expected. She was one of 7 female first year students, and the only girl in her year that wanted to work with the first team. y/n was made aware that this might work to her advantage now that professional football was pushing for more female representation (in referees, coaching staff, and now on the medical team). The guys in her class either hated her guts or wanted to sleep with her (sometimes both) - it really was like legally blonde without the law.

In the middle of August, close to the beginning of the new season, all the applicants for the Barca placement were called into the university on a Sunday. Their professor introduced Dr. Gonzales, the head physiotherapist for the club. y/n started to sweat despite the air conditioning hitting her directly. She was terrified to even breathe wrong in the presence of this man.

"It's a pleasure to be here with you all today. Thank you for your hard work in submitting to fill the assistant physiotherapist position at F.C. Barcelona. Now, there have been rumors that we are hiring a student to fil this position because it is cheaper and we are broke, but I would like to assure you all now that it's not true."

The two boys in front of her snickered quietly, one whispering a "yeah right" to the other. Dr. Gonzalez looked up at the boys. "You two giggling in the back. You don't seem like the type we need at Camp Nou. You can leave now." Everyone in the room sat up straighter after that. Everyone was on military behavior, not wanting a wrong look or a chair squeak to blow their chance. "As many of you know, one of our strikers, Ousmane Dembélé, presents with consistent right hamstring tightness, leading to frequent injuries."

As Dr. Gonzalez turned to face the screen, y/n found enough bravery to pull out a pen and paper to take notes. The doctor continued to describe the player's condition, his playing style, and the current course of treatment being used. After speaking for 25 minutes (while facing the screen instead of the students), he turned around and addressed them. "Your project is to develop a continuous muscular therapy treatment for Dembélé in the next two days. The best and most cost effective method gets the job placement. You at the back," he pointed at y/n, "Smart choice to take notes. I advise you not to share."

Y/n drove home that evening checking her rear-view mirror every few seconds. The possibility of being followed by one of her classmates so they could steal her notes was low, but never zero, and so she did both of the locks tightly on the door. She sat at her computer and got to work right away. Truth be told, she felt like the whole assignment was kind of a trick. Dr. Gonzalez had told them the current treatment plan for Dembélé, which had obviously been working seeing as they kept using it. She made a few adjustments based on leg dominance and the anticipated excess strain of playing more minutes each game, and then she decided to facetime her friend Angelika while she made the PowerPoint look pretty.

"Good evening Dr. y/l/n, finally ready to ask for my hand in marriage? My parents always wanted me to marry into medicine." y/n rolled her eyes and smirked. She had met Angelika when she was living in the US through a Facebook group for Spanish students studying abroad. Ever since then, not a day had gone by where they hadn't spoken (except once when Angelika had dropped her phone into a pint of beer and couldn't get it fixed for three days).

"You know I'm ready when you are gorgeous, just send your ring size. What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, just scrolling on the internet trying to find clubs that are no cover for ladies tomorrow. You're still coming out with us right?" y/n looked away from her computer and looked at Angelika with the "I'm about to bail on plans look" that was all too familiar. "Y/n!! You cannot be cancelling plans with us again! You haven't been anywhere except your house and the university in like six weeks! People will start to think you're with child and in hiding."

"I didn't know I was the new virgin Mary." y/n quipped, trying to make her presentation equally professional and cute. "You're not, because that would require you being a virgin. I know it feels like it's growing back because you haven't looked in the direction of a man in centuries." y/n could only shake her head. It was not a lack of trying. "Well, I'm presenting to the Barca head physio Wednesday morning, so if you ever want a chance at seeing the inside of that locker room, you need to let me skip out on tomorrow."

Angelika sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically. "Fine, but you need to be our DD and come pick us up after. Shockingly, it's really hard to order an Uber while drunk." y/n agreed to pick the girls up from the club at the end of the night, an spent the rest of the evening chatting idlily with her friend, living vicariously through the stories she told.

The following day, y/n spent all morning refining her presentation. She spent over an hour watching videos about the Barca training facility to see if there was any equipment she had overlooked in creating her treatment plan. The day progressed as normal - cleaning, cooking, practicing her presentation, watching TV on the couch. As 1am rolled around, she still hadn't received any communication from Angelika. While she was not an inconsiderate person, Angelika did have her moments where she would completely forget about the world around her: that was when she met a man who showed interest in her. Despite being gorgeous and intelligent, Angelika, like most girls in their early twenties, suffered from a condition known as "Nothing is true about me unless an attractive man says it". y/n also suffered (mildly) from this affliction, but being surrounded by weirdos all day in university had helped substantially. She knew that if she did not leave then, she would never get any sleep, and so she grabbed her car keys and headed to the address of the club that she had been sent earlier on.

She parked several blocks away from the club, and called Angelika for a record 41st time. y/n knew she wasn't going to receive an answer, so she changed into a tight satin top and a pair of heels that she always left in her car in case of emergencies (What if Joao Felix decided to take a random trip to Barcelona and she was unprepared?). She could feel the street practically vibrating beneath her as she walked towards the club. She was let in easily - it was a Tuesday night and the establishment needed female patrons. She kept close to the bar, and asked the girls working there if they had seen her friend. Once y/n pulled up a picture of Angelika, the girls laughed to one another.

"Oh yeah, she's up in the VIP section. They've dropped like 6k on bottle service already."

y/n felt the vein in her forehead start to pop out. Of course Angelika had found herself a man that would take her to the part of the club that was the hardest to get into. Especially on the night when y/n really needed to get home. Because why wouldn't that happen? She made her way over to the VIP section, where she was promptly stopped by two large bouncers, who obviously didn't believe that she just wanted to grab her friend. While standing there deciding whether she should just make Angelika order an Uber (or have this new lover order one for her), she was tapped on the shoulder. She turned around and was met by a very attractive man (boy? His age was hard to determine in the dark).

"Hey, do you need to get into VIP? Are you here alone? " "That's a really creepy question to ask a girl in a club." y/n yelled back over the thumping music. What were all these people doing out on a Tuesday? "No not like that. I can help you get in if you want." "I don't really want to get in, I just want to get my friend and leave." The man (boy?)'s eyes lit up. "Perfect! My tea- friend. My friend that I'm with is pretty drunk and the person that drove us is in VIP. I can't leave him by himself because he's kind of rowdy even when sober. Could you watch him while I go grab them?"

y/n didn't want to look too deeply into a good thing, but the offer felt suspicious. She scanned the boy (she had decided that he was young), looking for any indication that he could live up to his end of the bargain. She looked down at his feet, noticing the white Alexander McQueen sneakers. She decided that she could trust him, and if not, she was still in a public place, and someone would notice if she was being dragged out of a club kicking and screaming. She walked over to where the friend was and had to stifle a laugh. Another boy was sprawled across two high bar chairs, legs up and head rolled back. He was wearing a pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses despite it being the middle of the night and them being indoors. His white button up had the first two undone and the collar popped, like he was Pitbull in 2011. He was in a pair skinny jeans (because, as y/n discovered quickly, everyone in the world had moved on from skinny jeans except for Spanish men) and some white Dolce and Gabanna sneakers. Where were these kids getting all this money?

"Pablo! Look who I brought you! This is..." The first boy looked back at you expectantly. "y/n". "y/n! She's really great and going to take care of you while I go get Pepi so we can go home." The drunk one (now Identified as Pablo) lifted his head, and tilted the sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the girl. "Wow Angel, nice job." The first one (Angel apparently) apologized to y/n, explaining that Pablo was a "really flirty drunk" but that he was never like this sober. y/n showed Angel a picture of Angelika, and off he went back into the beast that was the club. y/n stood awkwardly by Pablo, who appeared to have fallen asleep. Suddenly, he sprung up and asked her, "so what is a pretty girl like you doing in the club by herself?"

"I'm not here to go clubbing, just picking up a friend." "You're dressed like you're going clubbing." "Right, because they wouldn't let me into the club in my scrubs." "Scrubs? You look too young to be a doctor." The music was starting to take a toll on y/n, the thumping rhythm giving her a splitting headache. "You don't look old enough to be let into the club, but everyone is full of surprises." Pablo did not take this comment well. He stood up, feeling all the blood rush to his head as he rested his weight against the bar. He pushed his glasses up his head, and looked straight at her.

This was the first opportunity y/n had to admire how gorgeous Pablo was. The glasses pushed his hair back on his head, showing off his striking eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes were wide and glassy, making him look like a teenager who had gotten drunk for the first time. For all y/n knew, that could be the case. His nose slopped downward, a subtle bump in the bridge like it had been broken before and reset. His discontent made his bottom lip poke out, and y/n suddenly was overwhelmed by the urge to treat him like a child: make him feel better with a kiss. "I'm 18, and this isn't even my first time in a club. You want to see my ID?" Pablo had gotten much closer to her than she had expected. In her 4 inch heels, y/n was looking him straight in the eyes. He was mere inches away from her face, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the anger of being called a child. She couldn't stop her gaze from flipping between his eyes to his pouting lips. 'This is normal,' she thought to herself. 'I'm overwhelmed because no man has been this close to me in a while. Even if my scumbag cheating ex was standing this close I would want to kiss him. I am simply in desperate need of affection.'

This internal monologue ended just as another club patron bumped into Pablo, causing him to lose balance. He put his arms around y/n and rested weight against her, head pressed into her shoulder. "I feel like dying. I shouldn't have drank that much." He muttered. She just held him there, scared that he would hit the floor if she shifted. "Then why did you keep drinking?" She asked. It couldn't hurt - in the state he was in, she would be surprised if he even remembered his name in the morning. "So my brain would be a little quieter." y/n's heart ached at the statement. However old the boy in her arms was, he was being burdened by something far beyond his age.

Before she could ask anything else, she was tapped on the shoulder by Angel, who signaled for her to follow out of the club. She put one of Pablo's arms around her neck and began shuffling through the crowd. Once they left the club, Pablo quickly separated from her to throw up on the side of the street. "At least he waited until he was off of you to do that," a male voice echoed from behind her. y/n turned around to see Angelika clinging to a tall brunet. "Thank you so much for carrying her out. I think I can take it from here." y/n said, trying to get Angelika to remove herself from the nice man. "It's ok, I can walk her to your car. It might be easier than you carrying her." y/n smiled apologetically, and turned around to the sound of Pablo continuing to wretch his guts out. She ran over to make sure he wasn't puking blood and didn't need medical attention. "Come on Pablo let's go." Angel said from the curb. "No no, don't rush him. Let him get it all out before he gets into my car. Otherwise he'll have to start taking the city bus to matches." y/n looked up at the new voice. He walked up and stood by Angel, glancing at his phone before looking up at his friend and the girl making sure he didn't die. "Thanks for looking after him. I hope he wasn't too bad, he's a tag aggressive." y/n stood there speechless. The man thanking her for taking care of his drunk friend was none other than Pedri Gonzalez, one of the young stars of F.C. Barca. He was an absolute magician with the ball, and quickly becoming a favorite in y/n's household. She wanted to let out a scream: jump up and down and tell him that she was a huge fan and ask for a picture. But she had her presentation tomorrow. The last thing she needed was to make a bad impression on the player by causing a scene. So she took a deep breath and insisted that it was no problem.

Pablo had finished puking out his guts by that point and stood up straight, gripping his head from the dizziness. "Alright hermano, time to go." Pedri said, turning his back to y/n, Angelika, and the main carrying her. "Wait." Pablo said rummaging through his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and clumsily pulled a card from it. He turned to y/n and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her close to him. There were shouts from his friends to stop whatever he was doing, but nothing was registering in his liquor-filled brain. "y/n think's I'm a little kid, so I just wanted to show her my ID." y/n shifted her gaze from his deep eyes to the card in his hand. She didn't look at the age. She didn't have to. Her eyes landed on the name: Pablo Martín Páez Gavira. One of the best young football players in the world had just used her as a banister. "Now that you know I'm not a kid, next time, you should let me buy you a drink." Pablo said, pushing a strand of hair from y/n's face before walking (wobbling) back to his friends.

y/n could not process everything going on in her head at that moment. She turned around and faced the man holding a half-asleep Angelika. "You don't play for Barca do you?" She asked, half joking and half fearful. "No. I play for Real Sociedad. I'm Martin." "Zubimendi??" "Yeah." This was too much. y/n, 7 hours before the most important presentation of her life, was surrounded by so much football royalty it made her dizzy. Martin looked like he was going to say something else, but y/n put her finger to her lips and shushed him. "Please, not another word. Just bring her to the car."

They walked silently to y/n's tiny car, Martin helping to carefully place Angelika in the back seat. "So are you the guy she was with while ignoring my calls?" "Oh no, that was my teammate Ander. He was also kind of out of it so I offered to help her out." "Why is everyone getting drunk out of their minds on a random Tuesday in August?" y/n said in frustration, causing a laugh to erupt from Martin. "It's the last week before training for the new season starts. Not a lot of opportunities to black out after this. People like to take advantage." y/n thanked Martin and got into the driver's seat. He stopped her before she drove off. "Do you think I could maybe get your number? Just to make sure you get home safe?" y/n rolled her eyes at the lame excuse for a pick-up tactic, but surrendered her phone number anyway. She drove back to her apartment with her head reeling, as she tried to rehearse her speech in her head instead of thinking of the events of the night.

The next day, y/n looked perfect. She had work her best school-approved scrubs and coat. and slicked her hair back to make her look more professional. She was in her business attire Nikes. Her note cards were neatly written and organized. She sat in the lecture hall waiting to be called on. The students would be presenting in random order. As all the student filled in to present, the tension was palpable. Everyone side-eyed each other, trying to intimidate the "competition". The door swung open and in walked the professor, as well as Dr. Gonzalez. He stood at the front podium, stern as ever, and began to speak.

"Good morning students. Thank you all for the effort you have put into the presentations you will share today. We look forward to all you assessments and insights. As the new season quickly approaches, we want the new assistant to become acclimated to the workplace quickly. Therefore, the decision about the position will be made today following the presentation." The entire room stopped breathing. "In order to do so efficiently, please welcome our other guests and evaluators, Mr. Xavi Hernandez and Mr. Ousmane Dembélé." The pair walked in, and the room engaged in the most "I wish I was dead" sounding clapping known to man. y/n started sweating profusely. If she had known that Xavi and Dembélé were going to be watching her presentation, she would have made Angelika take the Uber. Hell, she would have made her ride a Donkey back home and gotten a full night's sleep.

Dr. Gonzalez drew names for the order, and because y/n has the worst luck, she was presenting last. She did what she does best: panicked immediately. She tried to think of ways to present the information differently than the 6 students before her had. As she listened to the presentations, the more nervous she got. None of the other students had treatment plans remotely similar to hers. Antonio, one of the smartest in their batch and the presenter right before her, even suggested he get surgery.

It was time. y/n stood up at the front of the room and pulled out her slides. "Good morning everyone. Today I will be presenting my comprehensive treatment plan for player Ousmane Dembélé's right hamstring." She got through the whole thing without stuttering or having her knees give out. As she finished her last slide, she let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was over. She asked if their were questions and Xavi's hand went up. "So Miss y/n, the treatment plan presented is very similar to the one we have currently implemented, with a couple changes in training and every day life. What is the anticipated recovery time for this treatment?" Everyone else in the class had said 8-12 months. But no - of course y/n had to be differently. "6 weeks sir." "6 weeks? No one else has given a suggestion that would take less than half a year." "Yes sir, however, if you take into account the availability of daily therapy, cryotherapy, and the current play style and strain distribution, he can be on the field in 6 weeks. He might not be comfortable playing all 90 minutes each game, but that's not the same as being completely out for injury." Xavi nodded and said nothing more. That was the end of the questioning.

It took them 8 minutes exactly to decide who go the job. Dr. Gonzalez, Xavi, and Dembélé came back into the room, thanking everyone again for their hard work. "We are please to announce," Xavi started, "that we will be offering the assistant physiotherapist position for the 2022/2023 season to," he turned to Dembélé, who finished the thought, "Miss y/n y/l/n." All the men in the room turned to face y/n at once as she struggled to breathe from the shock. "We look forward to having you this season."

And that's how it happened. y/n was now the assistant physiotherapist for the first team at F.C. Barcelona during the day, and entertainment for the absolute worst men in Spain in the evenings. She left her disappointing first date with a headache and leftovers, and drove home listening to her "Maybe Love is a Social Construct" playlist. As she walked into her apartment, her phone chimed with a text notification. She let her hair down and grabbed her phone, preparing to update Angelika about the latest in the tragedy that was her love life. Instead, she had two separate text notifications.

[Unknown number]: Hey, is this still y/n's number?

[Gavi]: I need to see you urgently. Tomorrow morning 6:30 am. I'll be waiting outside your office.

To be continued...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you got this far, thanks for reading! I have had this idea for a long time and have been writing snippets of it down. I will continue to update whenever I can, as this really is a passion project for me (so it's ok if no one reads it).

GIF credit to @gavidaily

Huge thanks to the following for heavily inspiring me to start writing this on the internet: @missgavi @kyiiansmbappe @julianalvarez9 @milawritesstuff @leeamorgan (there are a couple others I'm forgetting)

[kookie-doughs]

Your Voice

Oikawa Tooru X Reader

-In a world where only a few people has a soulmate, and they are burdened with a disability until they meet their other half.

Chapter 27: Soulmates

"So tell me, how is it that you lovely couple had come to meet. And why is it that your relationship had changed the world of soulmates most especially in sports."

You look at your now fiancee and chuckled to the interviewer.

"Well it all started with a lie a certain someone had been living up to his whole life." You rolled your eyes and your lover chuckled.

"As a kid, I've always been a fan of volleyball. And when I found out I wouldn't be allowed to play. I pretended. It was easy to pretend I only lost my taste after all."

"Imagine I tried pretending." You laughed.

"I managed to keep up till my 3rd year in Aoba Johsai. When I met the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Suck up." You rolled your eyes earning laughs from the audience.

"It was as if I knew. She was the one. I was drawn to her. I tried talking. But she didn't hear me so I thought oh we weren't soulmates-"

"You had to talk to meeee not talk around meeee youre so stupiddddd!"

"I know nowwwwww~" He laughed. "Yea anyway, we got closer and we fell in love more and more. Then when valentines came. She made chocolates for everyone in the team except me."

"At least he thought I did."

"And the team would pile up all my sweets for valentines back then because I dont really eat them. And Hanamaki forced me to eat one. I regained my taste and I was devastated because I didn't know who it was from and couldn't find the same again."

"I made the best among them."

"You didn't. "

"Wow I guess this news is also about our break up."

"I'm kiddinggggggg! Y/NnNNNNN~"

You roll your eyes. "After that he became depressed and tried hooking up with some girl, he failed because I caught them before he could try. Then he asked me out."

"You did it too!"

"Whatever Tooru! Fine. We ended up confessing at the same time and he asked me out. My cousin, Iwaizumi Hajime, who was practically my dad too gave him permission to do so. And like, I was bullied so hard. Since he quote doesn't have a soulmate unquoute."

"Yeah I remember getting in a fight with Karasuno during Interhigh. One of their member accidentally gave his opinion."

"He was about to beat him up. Luckily their team captain was quick."

You gave him a pat on the head.

"And we got to Finals against Shiratorizawa back then. When we won. I immediately called for her attention and ran to her."

"OMG I HAVE THAT ENTIRE THING ON VIDEO!!! HE WAS SO STUPID! HE DIDNT REALIZE ANYTHING AT ALL!"

"She never dropped it she's a pain." He sighed

"Whatever. And like after the whole thing. We got to nationals. Quarter finals and we lost but we managed to be seen."

"We decided to go and train those of which with soulmates that wanted to play volleyball too. It was a whole deal where the entire school of mine participated. Even Shiratorizawa joined with us then."

"I was surprised we didn't get in trouble, instead Japan just took a look at the sport system. The volleyball league of Japan reached us since we're like the biggest deal at that time."

"They took notes and everything. She also told about one of our team members, Kyotani Kentaro. He was good at volleyball but he couldn't be honed because he couldn't find his soulmate at the time. She went on to list number of amazing players who had a soulmate."

"And after I graduated. They removed the rule."

"Lesson learned. Lie and break the rules." You concluded earning laughter once again.

The interview continued on. It went great. After it you went home.

You looked your husband to be and you smile to yourself.

"Tooru~"

He hummed in response taking your hand.

"I'm glad you were my soulmate."

He glanced at you, he sees you looking at him with pure adoration and it made him feel...

Special.

"I love you."

He smiled pulling the hand he held to his lips.

"Te amo más mi amor."

Previous | Masterlist

Hellooooo omgomg i actually finished itttttt

For those is there's actually some that are confused the last chapter is the time skip. Oikawa only came to Argentina after you graduated

It took forever im sorryyy i had a block but i got my boost again and I managed to finish it

Thank your for the longest supporter of the series @wormonastringonastick and @gayer-than-the-gayest-gay

I have more stories and another one coming up. Im still debating which one I'd do but im feeling like I want more of either soulmate or ABO (reluctant because im bad at writing scenes

Once again thank you alllll for supporting Your Voice I love you all and check out my other stories

Thank you!

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @rukia-uchiha-98 @wormonastringonastick @the-sander-fander @applepie-macaroon

[ugly-anastasia]

Clark Kent | Self Para

Date: 29 July 2024 Featuring: Annie, Harlynne Warnings: None

The Olympics spark a conversation for Annie and Harlynne

Each night, Annie put the Olympics on for the kids before bedtime. Jaxson was enthralled by the football, of course; he'd become a regular fan of the sport since moving to England anyway (Southampton FC was "his team," as he called it). But Harlynne spent most of her time coloring while the coverage played out on the TV.

Except for when gymnastics was on.

It didn't really matter the event. That was when Harlynne dropped the crayons and dialed in, the images of athletes flipping around on the screen reflected in her new glasses. During the qualifiers, she gasped when Simone Biles stuck the landing and cheered when Suni Lee danced across the balance beam.

"I don't get what's that hard about it," Jaxson said, watching the screen skeptically.

"All of it!" Harlynne argued. "You try and do it!"

"Fine, I will-"

"Jaxson-" Annie began, aware that this was a recipe for yet another trip to A&E for broken bones. But thankfully, Jaxson did not make an attempt at tumbling.

"How hard can it be?" Jackson crouched down and attempted a Wolf Turn, which he barely began before he was already on the floor.

"See!" Harlynne giggled, flopping down next to him.

"I almost got it!" he protested. And soon they were both rolling around on the floor, laughing as a Brazilian gymnast pirouetted and soared through the air to the tune of the Can-Can.

Jaxson had a sleepover the night of the men's team finals, and so it was just Annie and Harlynne that night. Annie made some reduced-butter popcorn (oil made her break out!), put it in that awful Garfield popcorn bucket, and it was prime time when the men took the gym floor.

"What's that guy doing?" Harlynne asked as the camera briefly panned to a bespectacled American gymnast who, unlike his teammates, remained zipped up in his tracksuit and seemed to be... snoozing?

"Uhh... I guess it's not his turn yet," Annie replied, already taking out her phone to Google the exact question. "Ah. He's an event specialist. It means he's just going to do the pommel horse at the end, so he has a while to wait."

"Oh," Harlynne said. She was quiet for a moment, crunching a fistful of popcorn. Then she spoke again. "I didn't know you could wear glasses in the Olympics."

Oh. That was what this was about.

Annie's stomach twisted anxiously. She knew this was her opportunity to talk to Harlynne about the glasses. All the stuff she and Drizella had talked about when Drizella had dropped Harlynne off from the movies. But how? What could she even say? What if she just made things worse?

Of course, Annie had known when she'd become a mom that one day she would have to have awkward conversations with Harlynne. She just hadn't thought it would happen so quickly. Annie couldn't remember ever having a serious conversation with her own mother at this age.

But maybe that was the problem, like Drizella had said.

"You can wear 'em anywhere you want, actually," Annie said cautiously. "There's no rule against it."

"Yeah, but nobody ever does," Harlynne pointed out. "They make him look weird."

Annie took a deep breath. "You know, I think they make him look really cool," she said. "I think- I think he's about to help his team win, so he's really focused on that, and that's cool. He needs to wear 'em to see how his team is doing. He's making a really important memory right now. Something he's never gonna forget. And he wants to remember all the little details. So... I think that's cool."

Harlynne looked surprised. And maybe a little skeptical. Like she didn't think Annie really believed what she was saying.

"You're just saying that 'cuz of my glasses," Harlynne argued. "It's fine. I'm wearing 'em. You don't need to give me a lecture."

Lecture. Where had Harlynne learned these words?

Anyway. Not the point.

"Harlynne- I mean that," Annie said. "And I think..." Ugh, why was talking to a seven-year-old nerve-wracking like this? "I think I should tell you, like, sometimes I don't feel great about my glasses. Sometimes I wish I could be like the people who don't have to get them at all. But they're part of who I am, because they help me do all the things I like to do, like writing for the paper. And just because I get nervous about wearing them sometimes doesn't mean they're bad. In fact, a lot of people who care about me think they're really pretty."

She thought, oddly enough, of her date with Toby— she hadn't been wearing glasses, but she'd been soaked with rain, her mascara running down her face. And he'd said she was beautiful.

She couldn't tell Harlynne that story, though, of course. Maybe someday, when she was older.

"But that's not even- I don't want you to worry about what people think. You're beautiful the way you are- with or without glasses," Annie said earnestly.

And she meant it. Even if Annie hated her own glasses, and even if she'd been averse to the idea of Harlynne getting them, she did think her daughter was perfect. Even when they fought. Even when Annie worried she was doing this all wrong. Even when Annie feared she was passing on the worst parts of the Tremaine legacy to a kid who didn't know anything else.

Tears pooled in Harlynne's eyes, and Annie worried she'd said something wrong. "Harlynne-" Annie started, reaching out to smooth her daughter's hair. But Harlynne just turned away.

"I'm not crying. I'm not a baby," Harlynne protested. And Annie softened, realizing what was going on. Harlynne was growing up. And they were going to keep having these conversations, weren't they?

"Harly, it's okay, honey," Annie said, pulling her into a hug.

Harlynne clung to her, crying, and Annie rubbed her back, warmth and affection and fear and guilt all mixing inside of her.

"Sorry," Harlynne sniffled. "I just- I wanna be pretty like you."

The feeling intensified. "Oh, Harly, honey," Annie whispered. "You're so pretty. Pretty in your own way. Inside and out. That's the more important part. The inside."

Did Annie really believe that about herself? She didn't know. But Drizella's words echoed in her head, about Mummy fucking them up. And Annie did not want to fuck this up. She'd do whatever she had to for Harlynne— even if it meant saying things she wasn't even sure she really understood. It was fine, as long as Harlynne believed her. That was what parents did for their kids, right?

The commentator announced the pommel horse specialist's name, and Harlynne pulled away slightly, wiping at her eyes. "I wanna watch," she said.

"Okay. Let's watch," Annie replied, an arm around Harlynne, pulling her close.

"Mama?" Harlynne said, and for a moment Annie thought maybe she'd have a response to what Annie had said.

But the truth was more unexpected.

"Can I do that? Gym-tastics?"

Annie smiled. "Sure, honey."

How much did that cost? She'd figure it out later.

And when the team won bronze— not gold, not first place, not perfect, but the first medal in a generation, the first win in a long, long time— Annie and Harlynne cheered together.

"I'm gonna be like them," Harlynne said. "I'm gonna be like him!"

"You're gonna be great," Annie assured her.

She already was.

[rawiswhore]

Hunter Hearst Helmsley x Fem Reader- "Jump Around"

Many popular sports, like football and basketball, have cheerleaders---which as we all know are people, usually women, that cheer for the team they're supporting.

While it's debatable whether or not if professional wrestling is a sport, some male professional wrestlers have valets---these beautiful women who, when they aren't distracting their opponent using their flirtatiousness and beauty---they cheer for the wrestler they've led to the ring.

Valets will sometimes beat their hands on the edge of the ring while cheering for their wrestler to beat their opponent up.

Valets are almost like pro wrestling cheerleaders.

Because of that, on a "Shotgun Saturday Night" episode in September of 1997, you escorted Hunter Hearst Helmsley to the ring while you wore a red loose fitting cheerleader miniskirt and a sleeveless, midriff bearing cheerleader crop top with pom poms clutched in your hands.

You usually would escort Hunter to the ring wearing evening gowns, skintight cocktail dresses, early 1900's crinoline gowns and sometimes even dressed up like Marie Antoinette.

By the end of 1997, Hunter Hearst Helmsley was shedding out of his 1800's blueblood gentleman character and becoming more of a modern day cad dressed in jeans and T-shirts.

You, too, were shedding out of wearing evening gowns and silky gloves that reached your elbows and traded those outfits for more sluttier, provocative clothing.

Not to mention, your behavior was beginning to be a lot sluttier on television and in pay-per-views at the end of 1997.

When you and Hunter entered the WWF arena and strolled to the ring together, the audience's eyes were all on you.

Their eyes were growing wide and eyebrows raising, some of them even gasped and their mouths dropped.

Usually you're wearing long beautiful gowns and sometimes cocktail dresses, but tonight you were dressed like a cheerleader.

Even Jerry Lawler on commentary mentioned how you're not dressed like how you're usually dressed.

When Hunter entered the ring, you stood by the ring and watched his match.

Throughout the match, you were cheering for Hunter like a cheerleader, holding pom poms in both of your hands while you jumped up and down, your skirt raising up while you jumped up in the air.

Your hands weren't even grabbing your skirt when it flew up in the air, your skirt was raising up as you jumped and bounced.

As your skirt flew up from jumping and bouncing around, your panties were exposed under your skirt, and your panties matched your cheerleading outfit.

You didn't wear a thong under your panties, the WWF wasn't full blown WWF Attitude yet.

You were jumping up and down so your skirt would raise up on purpose, and many fans in the audience caught your panties being exposed when you'd jump up and down.

Many male fans were staring at your panties, especially the back of them, when they got exposed, and many male fans were getting out of their seats and cheering while you showed your panties off.

Some of those male fans---especially grown men---were making those cheesy wolf whistles at you.

Jerry Lawler was perking up on the commentary table about your skirt flying up when you'd jump up and down.

"Why couldn't she wear a thong?!" Jerry Lawler asked.

Many male fans in the audience agreed with him, cheering for his ask.

Because the World Wrestling Federation's Attitude era was in its early stages then, that's why.

It was slowly getting away from being family friendly, but also getting a little more edgier.

While you'd bounce around and jump up and down in this cheerleading outfit, your breasts under your top were jumping and bouncing up and down too on purpose.

However, your top didn't ride up your chest and expose your breasts to everyone.

You were wearing a bra under your top, though you wanted your breasts to visibly bounce under your top.

You acted like an actual cheerleader in this match, cheering for Hunter, beating your pom poms together with your hands colliding next to each other, rolling your hands around and shouting for Hunter.

You pranced and skipped around the ring during this match, and as you skipped and sashayed around the ring, your skirt was swishing and flying up sometimes, your skirt flying up behind your back while you skipped around, not to mention your breasts were bouncing under your top.

No one was grabbing the back of your skirt while it raised, it was flying up from you bouncing and prancing around.

The camera caught your breasts bouncing up and down under your top as well as your panties exposed when your skirt flung up.

Even before you started strutting around the ring, the camera was catching your panties exposed, the camera filming you behind your back to catch the back of your underwear exposed.

Sometimes the camera even zoomed in on your panties when your skirt flew up.

"How is *insert Hunter's opponent* not distracted by her?" Jerry Lawler asked with a smile on his face. "She's bouncing around and her skirt keeps showing her panties off?"

"Is this her distraction tonight?" Jim Ross asked.

Indeed, this basically is your distraction.

However, you also bounced around the ring in that cheerleader outfit as a tribute to vintage jiggle TV like "Three's Company".

"How's Hunter not distracted by her?" Jerry Lawler asked. "I'd be starin' at her throughout the match!"

That basically would be true of you eventually when you valet in the WWF.

You prancing around the ring as well as bouncing and jumping up and down---especially your tits bouncing under your top and your skirt flying up to show your panties---was distracting the match in general.

Fans in the audience were barely paying attention to the match and instead paying more attention to you.

Some fans in the audience were annoyed over you, because they wanted to watch the match.

The camera filming this match and you kept focusing on you sashaying around the ring and occasionally jumping up and down.

However, during this match, you didn't always jump and bounce up and down and prance around the ring.

Sometimes you'd stand in one area and dance like how cheerleader's stereotypically dance, shake your hips back and forth and shake your pom poms you held in your hands up in the air, roll your hips and ass upwards.

"Is she gonna do some kicks?!" Jerry Lawler asked, so he can look up your skirt.

Considering cheerleaders do some high kicks, maybe.

Some male fans got Jerry's question, which made many of them loudly cheer like how they'd cheer for an attractive woman.

Many cheerleaders are half naked and bounce around, their legs doing high kicks while upskirting their panties, but are the fans distracted by them doing that?

"She's makin' me miss bein' in school!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed while smiling from ear to ear.

Some male fans in the opponent think Hunter's opponent must be gay considering he isn't stopping and looking at you while you flounce around the ring and your skirt flings up to show your panties, not to mention your breasts also bouncing up and down under your top.

"She's doin' so much bouncin', her skirt's flyin' up!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed. "I'm hopin' her top rides up and she'll flash us her chest!"

Some male fans in the audience got out of their seats and cheered loudly, agreeing with Jerry Lawler.

"With all that bouncin' going on under her top, y'think she isn't wearing a bra?!" Jerry Lawler asked Jim Ross.

Sometimes, during this match, you spun and twirled around on purpose, and your skirt twirled around with you so your panties will be shown again.

The camera filmed you twirling and spinning around while your skirt whirled around with you.

Your skirt was swishing around, but not quite enough for your panties to be exposed.

However, there were times when you spun and twirled your body around in a circle while your skirt spun around in a 360 angle, your skirt raising up as you twirled in a circle.

"I'm wishin' I was a cheerleader right now!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed. "So I can hold both of her feet while she stands up above me!"

That was a joke that he wants to look up your skirt, and many male wrestling fans in the audience agreed with Jerry.

Despite that you've been acting like a cheerleader and having your skirt raise up and show your panties (not to mention your tits bouncing under your top), Hunter's opponent hasn't been distracted by you during this match.

But...

During a part where Hunter's opponent was near the ropes where you were standing, you darted up the little stairs leading up to the ring and carefully walked on the edge of the ring next to the ropes.

The audience saw you scurry up those stairs and stand by the ring, especially considering you were standing near where your opponent was.

The audience knew what you were going to do, especially considering you're a valet.

The camera filming was now focused on you, standing there with a grin and smirk on your face.

As you stood there smirking and smiling, you turned your body sideways and one of your hands grabbed the bottom of your skirt, where your hand raised and pulled the side of your skirt up until your panties were showing.

Hunter's opponent was staring at your panties with a smirk on his face, and while you raised your skirt up and your panties were shown, many male fans in the audience were getting out of their seats and cheering, a few of them even wolf whistling at you.

"Didn't he notice when she kept jumpin' and spinnin' around and her panties kept showin'?" Jerry Lawler asked.

Indeed.

"I guess he couldn't see them from where he was standing" Jim Ross answered.

Another good answer.

This match was staged and rehearsed, not to mention his opponent was pretending to get beat up and was thrown around in the ring, so he couldn't really see you bouncing around.

The camera filmed you standing in front of Hunter's opponent pulling the side of your skirt up and showing off the side of your panties.

While Hunter's opponent was distracted, Hunter marched up to his opponent and began to attack him.

Once Hunter attacked his opponent, your hand pulled your skirt down, whereas you laughed at his opponent getting attacked.

You then hopped off of the ring and continued watching this match.

Throughout this match, even before you distracted Hunter's opponent by pulling your skirt up with one of your hands, you shouted Hunter's name and cheered for him, chanting at him to beat up his opponent.

You also did some sexy dancing in this match, not dancing like a stripper, but some slightly provocative dancing.

"Sign her up for the Dallas Cowboys!" Jerry Lawler exclaimed.

This wrestling match where you're a valet dressed as a cheerleader seems like something Sunny would do, and a few months later, she did dress up like a cheerleader on a "Monday Night Raw" episode.

It also seems like something Stacy Keibler or Torrie Wilson would've done in the 2000's.

In the year 2000, you guest starred in WCW a few times, where you had some wrestling matches with Stacy Keibler where you were dressed as a cheerleader.

Some of your wrestling moves you did in WCW (and the WWF/E) were spinning kicks---where you spin around and kick your opponent--and a Madonna kick, where you raise one of your legs and kick your opponent, like this:

You even modeled your "Madonna kick" after Madonna's high kick in the "Lucky Star" video I posted.

When you did that match with Stacy Keibler, you did a lot of spinning kicks and Madonna kicks so your panties would be exposed as fan service.  

[spotofimagines]

Rivals Last ~ Jadon Sancho

A/N: So I had this in my drafts before he signed with man united but that's fine, we move, we adapt. A third piece for the @footballffbarbiex summer challenge. Hope you enjoy it :)

Warnings: none - reader is female

Summary: You love both your brothers dearly, but being in the football world with them can make some things a little complicated.

gif by @archivesbvb - gif by @ermuellert - gif by @italynt

Being a footballer meant living in a special world. Being in a footballing family meant living in a special world too. Being the younger sister of Lucas and Theo Hernandez meant living in a really special world. But nobody told you just how crazy it would be for all three of those things to apply to you.

You truly love watching your older brothers play football. They teach you something new during every match you see; even though you play as a striker, their movements and handling of the ball always inspire you to play better. After all, it was their defensive skills that helped you become a good goal scorer growing up since they never let a tackle go unchallenged in the park and you had to find out how to manoeuvre around them. A lot easier said than done.

Currently Lucas is signed with Bayern Munich. In his time there so far, he has learnt the heritage, history, and importance of wearing the badge and defending its honour in every match they play, especially derbies. Having supported Lucas, it quickly became easy for you to support Bayern Munich too and celebrate their victories like it was your own team. You'd always managed to do it with the clubs both your brothers played for, letting the atmosphere of the fanbase carry you away.

You have just finished your second season in England with Manchester City women's team. You'd settled in nicely now, having learnt a lot of the English language and culture already. The experience was made so much easier because of the help given by your welcoming teammates and the staff that translated things into French and Spanish during your first months there.

Fans were a little disappointed during the 2019 summer transfer window when it was confirmed all three Hernandez siblings would be leaving Spain to play separately in England, Germany and Italy, joking that no one could know what might happen with you all so far away. However, to you, it made things easier, as Lucas and Theo would stop making so many awful jokes about each other's clubs, only to join forces to diss your club even more afterward. Now the only connection you have to the clubs you all play for is the want for your sibling to win with them. And it is a great feeling. A welcome change of pace.

But no new change to your life felt as good as your blossoming "relationship", situationship, whatevership, you have with Jadon Sancho.

It all started with you flirting back and forth on social media, which turned itself into countless hours of DMs no one else could see. You congratulated his goals and he congratulated your wins. All the light-hearted teasing and the warm-hearted compliments stayed in your own little bubble. The only thing peeking out was your silly inside rule that if you were going to comment on a post, it had to be emojis only, stretching to a few words if you really couldn't help yourself - but it would earn you taunts from the other for the rest of the night.

Some eagle-eyed fans noticed how you'd been liking each other's posts every time they appeared for a while now, but it just added to the fun and thrill you got from flirting with him so much.

You weren't meant to be forming a bond with Jadon. He played for your brother’s rival. He was supposed to be the enemy. Someone you should dislike with a snap of your fingers. Certainly not a boy to fall for like you have.

You couldn't help yourself. Lucas and Theo had helped you since you moved to England by being the steady rocks they always were, cheering you on from afar. Your new teammates had helped you since you moved to England by introducing fun things for you all to do together and taking you under their wings. But Jadon had helped you in a different kind of way. He gave you a new kind of comfort and reassurance when you talked. He became someone to turn to with all your interesting news and your curious problems. He told you the good places to visit around the city that he remembered from his time there and taught you English slang to make your teammates laugh. You spoke three languages to varying degrees now, and you'd managed to pick up more German vicariously through Lucas in two years faster than Jadon had done living in Germany in four years, so you'd clue him into rude German phrases you had asked Lucas about, alongside the French and Spanish swear words he used more often than English ones now when you text. 

Even though a language barrier comes up once in a while, you have both learnt behaviours from each other and crave the contact you share. Jadon was starting to drop everything to send replies to you, a change his teammates have noticed and jokingly mock him for. Little did they know the unknown girl they joke he is smitten over is the sister of their rival.

Theo is the one in your family you usually tell about the boys you go out with; boyfriends and dates have been shared with him since you were 13 and doting on your first crush. He does the same with his girlfriends; asking advice and telling you more than you need to know at times. So, when you all went home for a bit of family time around Christmas, nothing could stop him from noticing the tell-tale signs that you had something going on. He already figured out through persistence that it was another player you were getting involved with, and his insistent questioning hasn't stopped in his search for who the player is.

But you keep it hidden from Lucas, and you don't know when you'll tell him. He has been your protector since you were kids, comforting you on sad nights when no one else was there, teaching you little secrets about how to navigate through the world, he even punched a boy who teased you once at school. The idea of telling him you were chatting romantically to another player would be trouble enough, but telling him it was a Dortmund player might just end up in another schoolground incident. You hadn't wanted Theo to know for fear he'd go dishing your dirt to Lucas, but he discovered it on his own and there was nothing you could do.

Who knows what might become of this thing you have with Jadon, and lord knows your eldest brother owns a hard as nails death stare that just might do Jadon in, but for now you actually quite like having the secret. A little mystery tucked away up your sleeve.

The rush you always get when Lucas calls your phone as you're typing a text to the Englishman,  feeling as though the first words from the other end will be shouts of how he knows everything and he'll never speak to you again for keeping it a secret, fills you with dread at times. But it never is the reason he calls, and it turns out he is just making plans or has something funny to tell you. But the way your heart thumps as you go back to texting Jadon, that is part of the chase you have to admit you enjoy.

Hardcore fans online have noticed the past few months that when you do interviews in English, the odd slang term comes up during jokes - terms you hadn't used before and stem more from London boroughs than northen towns - so speculation of how you'd learnt these things easily coincided with dating rumors.

Lucas had seen the speculation online; seen fans trying to put your interactions with the Dortmund player together through both your instagram stories and comments and the tweets you both had liked about the other. Lucas had even grown suspicious of the little questions you asked him about Germany, German phrases and his lifestyle there, not knowing why you would need nor want to know those things. But Lucas doesn't believe it. He knows that you know better to mix with a Dortmund boy.

Sometimes an older brother just doesn't get it quite right…

Soon, the chance will come to really see if your connection is something you can build on. Jadon's new signing with Manchester United has been confirmed and he will be moving back to England. It is a great opportunity to get to see him more often, rather than the odd rendezvous point or clandestine trip during small breaks in the season. You'll spend more time face to face instead of over the phone. You'll get to wake up in his bed and him in yours, without needing to sneak away from hotel rooms afterwards. You'll maybe even get to go on a proper date, just the two of you, where you can flirt across the table your joined hands rest upon. Hanging out with Jadon won't be the first time you've spent time together in person. However, getting a full day with only the two of you where you won't have to pretend you hardly know who he is, and you won't have to pretend your eyes aren't meeting across the group of people you're in - it fills your stomach with knots and butterflies.

A certain pressure has fallen off you now Jadon has no growing rivalry with Lucas, but not completely. You won't be able to take back the way their teams made the other feel in the past, but the fact there won't be more of it next season comforts you a little. The biggest thing that will hold you back from going public before the new season starts will be the media, but that is an issue you can't even begin to worry about yet. You are too caught up in the excitement of being in the same town as Jadon to care. Rumours are spinning crazier than ever about you two as some of your liked tweets about his move got reposted by sports pages and fan blogs - now joking about him being your rival instead of your brother's - and yet it didn't stop you, no longer all that bothered about keeping a low profile now you both will be living away from Lucas. If he gets mad, all he will be able to do is shout down the phone, and whilst you never want that to happen, you know the time to flourish with Jadon and capitalise on the foundation you have already built is better than ever, brothers be damned.

There are big changes coming for the both of you, yet one thing will remain the same no matter the outcome of your relationship. You can't quite stop being football rivals.

[yarbz]

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

 ━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

[fandom-collective-writers]

Endgame

Pairing: Nobunaga x Reader

Genre: Modern AU

Rating: Fluff and Smut

Word count: 1720

Written by @rikumorimachisgirl for Anonymous

A/N: Not the Marvel movie. 😁

The score was 94-92 in favor of the Echigo Samurais. With three more minutes left in the fourth quarter, you press on the Azuchi Warlords assistant coach Mitsunari to call a timeout. Echigo has played a running game throughout and led by as much as ten points in the dying seconds of the first half of the game, but Shigen Takeda openly blowing a kiss at you seemed to have ignited something in the Warlords, as your boyfriend and team captain Nobunaga Oda led the team, powering through the second half. 

You hurriedly handed out towels and sports drinks to the players, who were more than happy to receive them. All, except your boyfriend, who showed no interest in joining the team as they huddled around Mitsunari. A sudden power fluctuation caused the electronic boards to reset, giving each team extra time to rest and strategize, but he didn't move from his spot. He was a sight to behold - his eyes fixed on the scoreboard, his expression unreadable. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of girls cheering. 

"We love you, Nobunaga!" 

You winced at the unabashed declarations of his fans seated on the right side of the court but kept your gaze at him. To your surprise, he gave them a sideline glance and winked, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with his wristband. 

The fans screamed like harpies, as you sighed, dejected. Normally, he wouldn't pay them as much attention as he just did but given your latest argument and the fact that the man in question wasn't backing down, you knew your boyfriend wasn't about to give you any preferential treatment.  

"Are you two still fighting?"

You almost jumped at the sound of a voice speaking quite near you. 

"Ieyasu?"

Standing next to you, the small guard cocked an eyebrow at you, annoyed. "What are you being all jumpy for?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to hear you sigh, " he replied, toweling off his sweat-drenched blond hair. "You must be daft if you think I'm going to take instructions from Mitsunari." 

"He's the assistant coach for a reason, you know."

"Yeah because our head coach opted to play team captain today instead of watching from the sidelines, " Ieyasu said curtly, shifting his gaze to Nobunaga. "So, why haven't you made up yet? You're making our lives a living hell." 

You knew how difficult the team's lives have been since that fateful day when Shigen Takeda - of all people - saved you from nearly being mugged by a group of thugs on your way back to your apartment from a quick trip to the grocery. Of course, no sooner than he had beaten up the perpetrators, pictures of the two of you together circulated throughout social media. It only took less than an hour before your own boyfriend saw the picture himself, and of course, the picture he had to see was that of you flashing a gorgeous smile at Shigen to thank him for saving you.

"He really has been giving us a tough time, you know. I couldn't feel my legs last night after practice."

"Well, I would talk to him but he hasn't been responding to my messages nor answering my calls, " you whined. "He hasn't even come home since that evening. Is he staying at Mitsuhide's?"

"You think Hideyoshi would allow that? You better make up with him immediately so that Mitsunari can use his room again. He's been staying with me for two nights now, I might murder him if he stays another night."

The referee whistled to call the players back, and you watched Ieyasu walk back to the court with the rest of the team. You caught sight of Nobunaga making his way back as well, and without thinking, you quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

"I have a game to play -"

"I'm sorry, Nobunaga, " you said, cutting him off mid-sentence, as your vision started to blur. "There really wasn't anything else that happened. You're the only one for me."

He sighed, and broke free from your grip, only to capture your hand in his. "We'll talk later. Right now, I have a game to win. Don't worry, it'll be over soon, " he said, smiling as he wiped a stray tear from cheek before running to his post. From the corner of your eye, you could see Ieyasu rolling his eyes, and Masamune giving you a thumbs up. Your heart soared, knowing that your boyfriend will do everything he can to keep his promise. 

The game ended at 95-94. The entire stadium erupted in cheers as the Azuchi Warlords won the championships once again, three years in a row. Hordes of fans and reporters gathered around the team to take pictures and interviews, as you watched from the sidelines with a huge smile on your face. One by one, the Warlords took their leave to go to the locker room and change. All except your boyfriend, who was still with the press alongside Mitsunari. By the time they'd finished with the interviews, most of the players had emerged from the locker room, looking refreshed and ready to party. 

"We're all going to The Castle to celebrate, " Masamune Date, the team's small forward, and resident playboy told you as he stepped beside you to watch Nobunaga thank the reporters and fans for their support. "I suppose it's safe to say you won't be there later…"

"Please, Masamune, it was your idea to leave these two to party on their own, " Ieyasu said, sounding bored while watching your face turn red. "Just make sure you don't make a mess like you did the last time."

"The last time?" Your eyes widened like saucers. "We've never done anything nasty in the locker room, I'll have you know!"

"Actually, that was me, " Mitsuhide Akechi, the team's center, chimed in sheepishly. "What? The team manager of the Anegawa Daimyos was asking for it, clearly. Anyway, we're leaving. This is all up to you now. Don't forget to lock the door."

You blushed harder, waving them off before you made your way to the lockers where your boyfriend now was. 

"Nobunaga? I'm coming in, " you called before stepping into the locker room. Except for the sound of water running from the shower area where your boyfriend was, the room was incredibly quiet. Slowly, you made your way towards the shower room, stopping by the entrance as Nobunaga's perfect physique, which the glass door did very little to hide. His arms braced the wall, as the stream of warm water cascaded down his back, his tight bum and his long legs. 

As if caught in a trance, you decide just then to give him a celebration he won't forget. You stripped off your clothes, careful not to make any noise while you do. After you'd folded and set them aside, you hurry to the shower room before you lose your nerve. 

The sound of the glass door sliding made him tense, and he immediately glanced behind him. 

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to decide to join you since you were taking your sweet time, " you responded quietly. 

Your retort made him smirk, and you found yourself pinned against the tiles as he molded your lips with his. It was quite a sensation - the cool surface of the shower tiles on your back and the heat of his body pressed against yours almost made you melt. 

"You were waiting?" He asked in between kisses. 

"You said earlier that we'll talk - oh…, " you gasped as he pushed his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours. 

"Yes, I said we were going to talk, " he said, catching his breath before capturing your mouth with his once again. "You've been a naughty girl, socializing with our rivals."

"I have not, " you said, panting while pulling him in for another kiss. 

"Playing the role of damsel in distress, " he continued, as he trailed kisses down your neck. "Trying to get me jealous."

Your eyes flew wide at his admission. "Jealous? You?"

"And this surprises you?" 

"Yes, " you replied, pushing against him hard enough against the wall. The warm water from the shower only made your body feel hotter, as you trailed kisses from his chest down to the tight muscles of his stomach, and finally dropping to your knees as you held the girth of his cock, and gazed up at him. "I'm surprised you're jealous especially because you should know by now that I crave only you."

You flicked the tip of his cock with your tongue, tasting his precum that leaked out of his hardened member. Your eyes never leaving him, you lapped up and down his length slowly again and again until he groaned. Cupping your cheeks with his hands, he shoved his cock into your mouth, reaching all the way to the back of your throat. "That's it, baby. Suck me harder, " he said, his breathing ragged. You placed your hands on his hips for support and he tightened his hold on your hair as he fucked your mouth. 

After a while, he pulled you to your feet and backed you up against the wall once more. Wrapping your legs around his waist, he entered you with one swift motion and drowned your moan with a kiss. 

You clawed at his back and kissed him desperately. He was rougher than usual, but that didn't seem to bother you. You were so close to orgasm as pleasure coursed through you as he pounded into you relentlessly. You missed this - you missed him - and you knew you weren't going to last. 

"Nobunaga!" You cried out as you flew into orgasm, and he followed shortly after, grunting loudly as he came. As soon as you both came down from your high, he carefully set you back on your feet but didn't stop holding you close. 

"I missed you, " you murmured against his chest.

"I missed you too, " he said, as he tucked your hair behind your ear. "And I'm sorry. It was foolish of me to act like I did."

"I'm glad you agree. I won't ever leave you, you know."

He smirked. "I know, baby, " he said. "Because you and me, we're endgame." 

The end.