#I tried to run away from my teammates and go into a locker

[moisette]

I thought it was a stealth Killer or a Trapper xD

I see people do that a lot so I tried it... I didn't realize he had broken the wall already. I guess that's why Windows shows you walls xD;

She has an add-on that makes you have a longer lunge and that was what she had. She also lost her terror radius when she M2'd people. Feels a bit cheap on Nurse but at least she wasn't a cheater.

I felt so bad this match... I ran in the direction I did because I know there's good pallets over there. I was too panicked to use the one next to my gen so I just ran. My teammate got hooked because of that and the Ace picked me up and I had Endurance and I didn't take a hit for him because I didn't see it at first =_= I don't know his perks. He doesn't know my perks. I've been picked up so many times and went back down so that's what I expected to happen xD;

Did he not lunge? That looked fucking weird o_O

I feel like I should not have gotten hit there but maybe it's just his animation. I was dead either way but I thought I made that vault xD

I've used the perk a billion times - I know when a Killer has it. He got the jump on me in our first chase because of it. He also had Trail of Torment but I didn't know his other perks.

[luvoooenha]

Lucky charm!

Pairing- Boyfriend! Jake x Girlfriend! Y/N

Summary- Jake, the top soccer player at UNI, always relied on Y/N’s support—until a huge argument left him distracted before a big game. Without her in the stands, he struggled to play, missing shots and worrying his team. Realizing how much he needed her, a teammate called Y/N, who debated but ultimately showed up, looking her best. The moment Jake saw her, his focus returned, and he played like himself again. After the game, they made up, proving that Y/N was truly his lucky charm.

Warnings- FLUFF, FLUFF, FLUFF, anger, angst, arguments, happy couple… (jokes! Not really)

Word count- 1.8k

plsplsplsplsplspls dont copyyy my work!

“You don’t get it, Y/N!” Jake’s voice was sharp, frustration thick in every word.

“Then explain it to me, Jake! Because right now, it feels like I’m the only one trying.” Y/N’s arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her voice shaking between anger and hurt.

Jake let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t appreciate you?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “Jake, I’ve been to every single game, every late-night practice, every stupid press conference where they ask you the same questions. And not once have I ever complained.” Her voice broke slightly, but she pushed on. “But the second I bring up how I feel, I’m the bad guy?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The look in her eyes—raw and filled with unshed tears—made his chest tighten.

“I can’t keep doing this if you don’t want me here, Jake.”

His stomach twisted. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. But his stupid pride got in the way, and instead of telling her the truth—that he needed her more than anything—he muttered, “Maybe it’s better that way.”

The second the words left his lips, he wanted to take them back.

Y/N’s face fell, her jaw tightening as she nodded slowly. “Okay.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away.

Jake stood frozen, watching her disappear into the night.

He had just made the biggest mistake of his life.

-

The silence between them was louder than anything Jake had ever experienced.

Y/N hadn’t texted. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t shown up to practice.

Jake told himself he was fine. That he could focus better without distractions. But when game day rolled around, it hit him like a freight train.

He jogged onto the field, scanning the stands on instinct. But the seat where she always sat—third row, left side, just behind the team bench—was empty.

His stomach clenched.

He tried to shake it off as the game started, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. His passes were off. His speed felt sluggish. Every shot he took either hit the post, went wide, or was blocked by the keeper.

The frustration built with every mistake, weighing him down like lead.

The final whistle blew, and UNI had lost. Jake barely heard the post-game speech from his coach, too busy replaying every missed opportunity in his head.

When he got back to the locker room, he didn’t even bother taking off his cleats right away. He just sat there, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor.

Jay, his closest teammate, nudged him. “Dude. What’s going on?”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Nothing. Just an off day.”

Jay scoffed. “Nah, man. This is more than that. I’ve never seen you play like this.” He paused. “It’s Y/N, isn’t it?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Jay sighed. “Look, I don’t know what happened, but it’s obvious you’re a wreck without her.”

Jake clenched his jaw. “She’s probably better off.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Yeah? Then why do you keep looking for her in the stands?”

Jake said nothing.

Jay grabbed his phone. “I’m texting her.”

Jake should’ve stopped him. Should’ve told him to leave it alone.

But he didn’t.

Y/N sat on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, as she mindlessly scrolled through her camera roll. Each swipe brought a new memory, a new reminder of everything she and Jake had been before it all fell apart.

There was a photo of him grinning at her during one of their late-night study sessions, his notes forgotten as he balanced a pencil between his nose and upper lip, trying to make her laugh. She had rolled her eyes at the time, but she could still remember the way her stomach had fluttered when he looked at her like she was the best part of his world.

Another picture—Jake, covered in sweat but grinning like a fool after a big win, his arm slung lazily around her shoulders. She had been laughing, caught mid-cheer, his jersey draped over her like a second skin. She had been so proud of him. She always was.

And then, one of her favorites—a candid shot of them from a lazy Sunday morning. Jake, shirtless and half-asleep, stealing bites of her breakfast as she swatted at his hand, laughing at his shamelessness. His hair had been a mess, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but he had looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Y/N’s chest ached.

She missed him. More than she wanted to admit.

Her fingers hovered over his contact, the familiar urge to text him creeping in. But then, like a cruel reminder, his words echoed in her head.

"Maybe it’s better that way."

She swallowed the lump in her throat, locking her phone. If that was what he wanted, then fine. She wouldn’t be the one to break first.

But then, as if the universe was laughing at her stubbornness, her phone buzzed.

Jay: Jake’s a mess. He needs you. Badly.

Her heart clenched.

She should ignore it. He was the one who pushed her away. He was the one who made her feel like she didn’t matter.

But… if that were true, why was he struggling so much?

Y/N exhaled slowly, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed her, filled with something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

She could walk away. Let Jake figure this out on his own. Prove to herself that she didn’t need him as much as he needed her.

But that was a lie.

Because no matter how angry or hurt she was… she still loved him.

And she wasn’t sure she ever wouldn’t.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed her jacket and touched up her makeup.

If she was going, she was going to make an entrance.

She headed out the door, her heart pounding.

Jake needed her.

And whether she liked it or not… she needed him too.

-

Jake jogged onto the field, his mind clouded with doubt.

His body felt heavy, his nerves shot. The last few games had been a disaster, and the weight of failure clung to him like a storm he couldn’t outrun. He tried to shake it off, stretching his arms and bouncing on his feet, but nothing felt right.

Then, instinctively, he looked toward the stands.

And everything stopped.

His breath hitched. His heart stuttered.

Y/N was there.

Sitting in her usual spot—third row, left side, just behind the team bench.

Jake blinked, half-convinced he was imagining it. But no, it was real. She was real.

And damn, she looked good.

Her hair was styled just the way he liked, her makeup subtle but stunning. She wore his favorite shade, the one he always said made her eyes stand out, and even from across the field, he could see the way her lips curved in something between challenge and amusement.

She came.

A rush of energy shot through his veins, the kind he hadn’t felt since before she left. His pulse pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from nerves—it was from something deeper, something electric.

His lucky charm had returned.

And just like that, everything clicked back into place.

The whistle blew, and Jake was unstoppable.

Every pass was precise, every shot powerful. He weaved through defenders with the confidence he’d been missing, his movements sharp and deliberate. The frustration that had been drowning him for days melted away, replaced by pure instinct.

And every time he scored, he didn’t look at the scoreboard. He didn’t look at his teammates.

He looked at her.

Y/N sat there, arms crossed, trying to look unimpressed. But he saw the way her lips twitched, the way her fingers tapped against her thigh. She was proud of him—he knew it.

By the final whistle, UNI had secured the win. The crowd erupted in cheers, his teammates swarming him with congratulations, but Jake barely acknowledged any of it.

His eyes were locked on her.

Without a second thought, he sprinted toward the stands, pushing past the crowd. Y/N had already started making her way down toward the field, and when she stopped in front of him, they just stood there, staring at each other.

For the first time in days, Jake could breathe again.

“I was an idiot.” His voice was breathless, raw. “I didn’t mean any of it, Y/N. I was just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I was scared. Of how much I need you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, arms still crossed. “Yeah? I figured, considering how hard you flopped without me.”

Jake huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “I deserved that.”

“Damn right, you did.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, but Jake didn’t miss the way her tough exterior wavered, the way her eyes softened just slightly.

He took a step closer. “Y/N, I mean it. I never should’ve pushed you away.” His voice dropped to something quieter, more vulnerable. “You’re everything to me.”

She sighed, finally uncrossing her arms. “Jake… you can’t shut me out when things get hard. That’s not how this works.”

“I know,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. “And I won’t. Ever again.”

Y/N studied him for a long moment, and then, finally, she sighed in defeat. “You’re lucky I like you, Sim.”

Relief crashed over him, and before she could say anything else, he closed the distance, wrapping his arms arowund her and pulling her in tight.

She hesitated for half a second before melting into him, her arms circling his waist.

Jake buried his face in her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume, and everything felt right again. “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I know,” she teased, voice muffled against his jersey. “I could tell from your embarrassing game stats.”

He chuckled, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Guess I need you to keep me in check.”

“Clearly.”

Jake reached up, brushing his thumb over her cheek, his voice softer now. “So… does this mean you’ll be at the next game?”

Y/N smirked. “As long as you keep winning.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering, “Then I guess I have no choice.”

Because she wasn’t just his biggest supporter.

She was his lucky charm.

-

OMG TYSM FOR 500 NOTES! (I didn't even think this was good...)

isa note! - lallalala first story!!! lalalall so excited! lalalalalla

taglist~ @firstclassjaylee

if wanted to be tag plspslplspsls let me know! 💗

© luvoooenha on tumblr 2024-2025. please don’t copy, repost, or translate my works! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :)

[captain-huggy-bear]

Guard Dog

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the Washington Capitals game (Jan 2025), anger/conflict, derogatory commentary towards Reader

Summary: You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

Notes: I was ready to throw hands at Dubois for purposefully seeking out and trying to hurt Quinn so...

Apologies to Dubois but he's now my arch nemesis and if I was actually dating Quinn I know I'd hold a grudge, sorry, I'm sure you're a great guy but...not today. Reminder that I am writing a fictional version of these people and what I do write is not representative of them in real life. Don't sue me, Dubois, this is fictional you, not real you. 👀

Also I don't think Quinn is generally violent or aggressive but I do think that if he felt someone he loved was being treated in a way that was disrespectful/aggressive, that he wouldn't avoid conflict. Protective boy in my eyes.

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

Writing Masterlist

You wanted to say that you were used to watching how violent hockey could get, especially when that violence was directed at Quinn, but that would be a lie.

Watching as Quinn was practically attacked by Dubois, watching him be targeted had you gasping and jumping to your feet in an instant. The way he knocked Quinn to the ground had your heart thudding in your chest and you'd gotten to your feet instinctively like you could physically go out and defend him, like you had any ability to do something when in reality you were completely helpless, stuck behind glass.

That intense feeling of protectiveness had only increased as Quinn was pulled from the scrum by Dubois again like he was being hunted down, targeted. It grew almost unbearable, a protectiveness mixed with anger, as you watched Quinn try to keep his distance, shoving away from Dubois even as he tried to hold him close, as Quinn tried to protect himself while avoiding roughing himself, only to receive a penalty anyway. That anger grew watching the way Quinn was stuck in the penalty box, the way he was desperate, standing, wanting to get out after his 2 minutes, only to be stuck because play was ongoing for another 3 minutes.

You had never hated a player before. Players had upset you in the past, annoyance at the way they'd dealt with something or how they'd behaved towards Quinn, but you'd never seen someone so determined to hurt your boyfriend. It was that sheer targeting, the way Dubois followed Quinn, gunned for him for no reason, especially given he was still sporting a hand injury, that had you hating him immediately. It had you itching to say something, do something for the entirety of the game. You could barely concentrate on the actual game, too amped.

You couldn't help the way your leg bounced angrily the entire game, the way you bit your lip, the way your mind ran through all the things you'd like to say to Dubois about his behaviour. That feeling didn't disappear as the game ended and you waited outside the locker room for Quinn, if anything it grew from how hard you tried to suppress it. You felt a little like a ticking time bomb.

That anger boiled over the moment you saw Dubois coming down the corridor towards you after the game. Dubois was freshly washed and changed, laughing with his teammate, Roy, like he hadn't been trying to hurt your boyfriend for half the game. You tried to keep your comments to yourself, but couldn't keep the angry glare, the deep scowl, from your features as you leant against the wall, arms crossed. You knew you were giving him the evils, that if looks could kill he'd have died five times over, but you couldn't force your face into neutrality, not when you felt that buzz of anger in your chest. It was dangerous for him to target Quinn like that, it was unfair, it made you wish you were 6ft 8 and built like a brick shit house so at least you could throw a punch in Quinn's honour. Instead you had been absolutely helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

You heard it muttered, whispered, an exchange of 'what's her problem?' and 'that's Hughes' girl...', that had you almost vibrating with anger. Dubois should have left you well enough alone, should have read the room and let you cool down. He shouldn't have assumed he could mess with you in that moment. But, since when have hockey players ever missed a chance to chirp?

You watch him stride up to you, a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble and only served to push more adrenaline through your body.

"You got a problem with me?"

"Walk away." Your voice is clipped, short, an attempt to maintain a sense of decorum, to control your anger because the last thing you want is to embarrass Quinn by getting into a fight with a rival hockey player on the same night his team lost a game. The last thing you want to do is make matters worse and in the words of Marie from Aristocats 'ladies don't start fights'.

"Or what? You going to cry cause I grabbed your little boyfriend?" His sneer reminds you of every bully you've ever known your entire life. Brutish, stupid, and with a deep desire for power and control, the sort of desire that causes them to be nasty, be mean, to try to hurt people because it shows that they can. It only makes it harder for you to control your feelings, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you clench your fists tight, like that will help keep you back.

"I'm telling you to walk away because I will not be responsible for what I say or do if you don't. Walk away." It was probably comical to him, the way you stepped forward and squared off with him, a man well over 6ft tall. You were relatively small in comparison. It didn't matter to you though, all that mattered was the fact he'd gunned for Quinn, for your lovely, kind boyfriend who avoided fights at all costs and tried to always be a reasonable, decent player. Your boyfriend who tried to play clean. Your boyfriend who was still injured. Your boyfriend who was under an insane amount of pressure right now. Your boyfriend who had only just come back off of rest for his injury.

"You've got some balls on you, lady, more than Hughes does at any rate."

You're certain your eye twitches, certain you're one bite away from causes your bottom lip to bleed. Certain that you've dug half moon circles into your palms. Certain that murder doesn't seem quite that bad of a crime right now and that you could survive prison.

"Walk. Away. Now."

"So you're the man in your relationship, huh? Is Hughes your pretty princess?" It's the hateful, misogynistic attempt to demean Quinn that causes you to snap. It's his refusal to just walk away, the goading, the pushing, the way he steps closer into your personal space, leers over you in an attempt to intimidate you with his size that finally does it. But, he doesn't seem to realise that you're too angry to be intimidated, you're not really thinking about yourself, about the situation, about the fact he's twice your size. So it doesn't matter that he could break you if he wanted to. It doesn't matter that he should be scary. He's not in that moment, because you're simply too angry, vibrating with rage.

"You're a vile, disgusting human being,y'know that? He's still injured, you fucking knew that and fucking went for him? What the fuck did he do to you? You trip him, you gun for him, you then try to pull him from the scrum?! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You could each infraction off on your fingers as you move into his space and push the two of you further into the centre of the corridor.

Maybe it's how loud you are or maybe it was just good timing, but Quinn and Boeser step out of the locker room just in time to see you yelling in Dubois' face, to see the grin on his lips like he's enjoying it. It's honest to god fear, mixed with a protectiveness that he always feels for you, that has Quinn practically sprinting the short distance to you.

He's pretty sure you don't realise you're shaking with anger or how close you've gotten to Dubois, practically nose to nose, leaning up while he leans down, until his arms are wrapping around you and pulling you back against his chest. Even in his arms you're shaking with adrenaline, eyes fixated on Dubois like a look is enough to put him in the ground.

Dubois' eyes shift to him, and Quinn can't help the set of his own features, the stern glare that he directs to the other man even as he's smirking back at him. If anything the way he seems to be enjoying this makes Quinn's expression sterner.

"Keep your little plaything on a fucking leash, Hughes." The grin Dubois sends his way is toothy, predatory, the sort of grin that tells Quinn he knows what he's saying and he knows what reaction it'll get. It doesn't stop Quinn's shoulders from tensing, it doesn't stop the tightness in his chest and it certainly doesn't make it easier for him to keep his usually cool head.

"What did you just say?" It's almost whispered, low, quiet, and it makes you stop shaking in Quinn's arms because there's something deadly about it, something that tells you not to push him right now even when you're not the one it's directed at. Something that makes you still in surprise.

"I said keep your little plaything on a fucking leash."

There's a prolonged pause, one in which Quinn looks back behind him, eyes finding Boeser, a silent sort of conversation happening between them, an agreement reached.

"Brock?"

"I got her." The blonde man steps forward as Quinn turns you in his arms and pushes you gently to Brock, Boeser pulling you into his own arms and away from the other two men.

"Quinn?" You're not sure what's happening other than the fact that the fear is starting to set in. All that anger, the adrenaline that had kept you so focused on Dubois, had started to fade. It left behind a shaky sort of anxiety, as reality hit you, that this was not just a simple argument anymore.

You gasp and move back into Boeser as you watch Quinn turn back to Dubois and just as suddenly grab him by the collar of his suit jacket, slamming him back against the wall. While Quinn is shorter, he's certainly not small or weak by any stretch of the imagination and Dubois doesn't expect it as he's shoved full body into the wall behind him, his feet struggling to keep up with the harsh movement backwards.

Quinn is nose to nose with him, glaring up at him with a look you can only describe as murderous, "You ever talk about her like that again and I will break your fucking nose. You don't ever talk to her or about her like that. Do you hear me?" The interesting thing about it, is how Quinn doesn't have to yell. In fact, his voice low, but it's the edge to it, the way it feels sharp enough to cut that makes his feelings clear.

"Oh? Now you think you're a big man, what you gonna do with that hand of yours?" Dubois' eyes shift to the brace on Quinn's left hand, the one that you can see trembling under it's own grip. It upsets you, that he's hurting himself for you, that you started this, as much as part of you preens under his protection.

"My right hand is just fine, Dubois. Yours won't be if you don't back the fuck down." Maybe it's the way Quinn's eyes narrow. Maybe it's the way his teeth grind together. Maybe it's the way he shoves Dubois even harder into the wall or maybe it's something else entirely, but something seems to make Dubois realise that Quinn is serious. That Quinn has every intention of fighting for you if he has to, if the disrespect is not corrected, if Dubois doesn't back down.

Maybe Dubois simply doesn't care enough or maybe he's intimidated by Quinn because he mutters, "Whatever...", hands shoving Quinn's away from his collar, one last glare exchanged before he and Roy walk away, whispering the entire time.

You're practically shaking in Brock's arms, Brock who releases you gently once Dubois and Roy walk away, Brock who backs away to the locker room with one last look to Quinn, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

Quinn's shoulders drop, relax as he watches the two men turn the corner and disappear out of sight, before green eyes shift to you, features softening into something affectionate and gentle. A stark contrast with his expression mere moments before.

He's the one who reaches for you, stepping until he's in your personal space, hands resting on the sides of your face like he thinks you might physically be hurt.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, sweet, as his thumbs brush your cheeks, green eyes darting over your features, trying to assess how you are and if he needs to chase after Dubois and teach him a lesson or two.

Quinn will openly admit he's not a fighter nor does he want to be, but the strong surge of protectiveness in him overrides his usual aversion to violence. He'd fight anyone for you, if it meant you were respected, protected, safe. He doesn't care that Dubois gunned for him out on the ice, all he cares about is the way he got into your face out in the corridor.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? He almost took you out on the ice!" Even as you say it your voice is shaky. Quinn knows you better than he knows most people, he can hear that shake a mile off, knows that that shake is a sign you're not okay, that that shake usually comes before a break.

It's why he doesn't answer you, it's why he pulls you fully into his arms, wrapping them around you until you're chest to chest.

So he asks again, "Baby, are you okay?" Only to feel the way your body starts to shake aggressively in his arms, like your body has just caught up to the situation, like the adrenaline has fully left your system, leaving only the after effects.

His voice is soft as he mutters to you, "Oh, you really worked off instinct, huh? Just now realising you nearly fought a 6ft 2 hockey player for me?" Quinn's quick to pull you tighter against him, a full body crush, rocking you side to side as his cheek presses into your hair. His hands rub up and down your back, attempting to sooth you as the reality of it all fully kicks. As you realise how stupid it was of you to do that, how scary the situation actually was, how you should have just walked away.

"Fuck...did I just really do that?" Your voice is shaky, almost wet, like you might start crying.

"Uh huh...yeah, you did, baby." His voice is almost amused, sympathetic, now the worst of it is over Quinn can't help but find your actions endearing. The way that you, of all people, decided you'd go toe to toe with a massive hockey player on his behalf.

"Fuck." You press your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath as he rocks you from side to side. You don't regret it, not really. You'd defend Quinn to the death, you love him and that meant protecting him, just like he'd protect you. But, you have to admit, it wasn't perhaps your smartest idea or your finest moment.

"It was kind of hot, baby, but please don't do that again. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you nose to nose with him." Quinn's actually certain his heart stopped when he walked out of the locker room. You'd seemed so...fragile in comparison to Dubois and while he knew you, knew you weren't weak, it had scared him. The idea of you getting hurt was one of his nightmares, even more so you getting hurt because of him.

You pull back as far as he'll let you which really isn't very far, tilting your head back to look at him, "You nearly fought him for me..." your voice is almost disbelieving like you can't understand why he'd step in like that for you, his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I did.." Quinn's smile is soft, loving, eyes crinkling at the corners as you practically gape at him.

"But you don't fight." You look so confused that it almost breaks his heart because who taught you that you were unworthy of protection, who taught you that the people who love you wouldn't step in when needed?

"I'd fight for you. Any day. Any week. Any time. I'll always fight for you, baby. You're my girl." He says it like it's just a fact of life. Like 2 +2 = 4 or that water is wet. He says it like it is the most natural thing to exist.

"But...you don't like to fight." He hates fighting, you know because whenever he gets in one on the ice or has to break one up, he complains when he gets home. You know because everything about Quinn is gentle and soft, always slow to anger and quick to find a diplomatic solution.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn smiles at you amused, "But I love you and if the choice is between protecting you or not fighting, I'm always going to pick you. That's what you do when you love someone. You'd protect me, right?"

"Of course." You don't even hesitate because it's like breathing, that instinct to look after him because you love him because he's your person.

"Then there's your answer, sweet girl" He watches the way you nod like it is starting click, like it makes sense. His hands brush cross your shoulders, tugging you into his side, twisting so his arm is slung over your shoulders. Your shaking has long since stopped and whatever anger both of you felt has since faded under the sweetness of realising you're both loved, both protected.

"You wanna go back to the hotel? Enough excitement for one night, huh?"

"Mmm, yeah...You're okay though, right? Your hand?" You shift under his arm, eyes looking to his left hand and the brace there, watch the way he flexes his fingers as if to remind himself he can.

"I'm okay, baby, especially knowing I have you to fight my battles for me." Quinn kisses the crown of your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as he pulls you tighter to his side.

In that moment the hotel room sounds great, home would sound even better, but you think home might actually just be Quinn and wherever he is.

[bu3ck3r]

still yours

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 5k

a/n: DALLAS WON IM SO HAPPY anyways this is the prompt tysm anon and im sorry that i haven’t been much active lately but i have a 2nd degree sun burn all over my body so i couldnt really move and finish this quicker but let me know if you liked ittt

paige laughed, breath a little too sharp, a little too loud. she’d just nailed a perfect three-pointer, the ball rolling clean through the net. teammates cheered. it should’ve felt like a win. but she turned, scanning for azzi—and found only an empty bench by the locker-room doors.

her heart clenched.

three nights without several texts, no good mornings, no spiels-of-support over video call. that wasn’t like them. and three days was starting to feel like a chasm.

the night before, she’d tried twice. sent a text when practice ended. nothing. a day later, paige had called, but no answer. she stared at the phone, thumb shaking over the screen. “you first,” she’d whispered to herself, recalling their argument from earlier that afternoon. it had been small—something about wanting different ways to decompress. but it blew up fast.

and paige, stubborn as she was in games, had walked away.

now she paced the hardwood outside the gym, mind twitching with replayed lines: “we can’t keep doing this.” azzi had said that. paige had bitten back: “maybe you need it.”

at 6:00 pm, the lights flicked off. teammates drifted toward cars and dorms. paige lingered, paced, heart loud like a drumline. maybe she’d been harsh. she’d been in a mood—preseason stress, half a dozen extra reps each night. but she missed azzi. missed her voice. even missed the petty fights.

she wiped sweat from her forehead and walked to the locker-room door. coach’s voice boiled low inside. just practice wrap-up. paige’s fingers paused on the handle.

she was about to open it.

then she stopped. pride. stubborn streak. this… this was azzi’s turn to reach out. that’s what she told herself. so she pretended not to see azzi’s hooded head slip out into the parking lot.

she blinked too late.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

paige stared at the ceiling in her dorm room. her side was cold and empty. typically, her phone vibrated: “you up?” “can you talk?” “i love you.” but tonight—nothing. only the distant hum of campus. only her own breath.

she replayed the fight from hours ago: azzi framed against the locker room mirror, eyes heated. paige had cuffed back, “you’re punishing me, you know that?” azzi’s lips had gone thin. her jaw had clenched. then silence. azzi had turned away and left.

now, dark. no azzi. no reassurances.

she lay awake until 2 a.m. fantasized replay: “baby, i’m sorry.” azzi’s forgiveness. wrapping arms around, soft forehead kiss. paige whispered it into silence until sleep slipped in.

the next morning sunlight filtered in. a couple shouted down the hallway. phone alarm buzzed at 7:15. paige blinked. rolled over. half-tempted to scooch close and check if azzi slept.

bed was empty.

she sighed, heartbeat heavy, void between pillows. she dressed in quiet, pulled on sweats and a hoodie. grabbed her phone. still no message.

she walked to the training table. still no word from azzi. last time they ate together here. now paige ate alone, slowly. every bite tasted flat.

she texted: “you okay?” no blue bubble. lunch passed. phone stayed silent. her heart went still.

practice was an hour away. paige wandered the main hallway, bag over one shoulder. she passed the training room. inside—azzi. dark hoodie, airpods, phone in hand, shoulders rounded.

paige froze. her heart cracked open.

was that… azzi?

she stood, hands tight ball. her natural instinct: run over, pull that hood down, kiss her. she tried.

her pride whispered: walk away. but her heart thundered: go.

she took three long strides.

“azzi.” soft. breathless. she looked up. no reaction—barely blinked.

“az…” paige said quietly. “you okay?”

azzi stared. words curdled. then: “not now, paige.”

it hit, an electric shock. then click, lips shut. feet spun. azzi turned around the right corner.

paige’s hand hovered two seconds too long, then fell to her side.

azzi sat on the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves stretched over her hands, staring at a phone screen that hadn’t lit up in over twelve hours.

a single, unread message from paige sat there. you okay?

she’d seen it. she couldn’t open it. because if she opened it… she’d have to answer.

she hadn’t slept. not really. just drifted in and out of shallow dozing, waking every time the wind made a sound outside the window, convinced it might be a knock on her door. her appetite was gone. half a granola bar sat abandoned on the desk next to a half-full water bottle she hadn’t touched since morning.

everything hurt in small, quiet ways. headache. throat dry. eyes gritty from lack of sleep.

and under it all: the ache in her chest.

she should’ve caved. paige always did. that’s how it worked. azzi got mad, paige chased. azzi got quiet, paige found the words. paige always, always fixed it.

but this time… she hadn’t.

and it was driving azzi crazy.

she rolled over, pressing her face into a pillow that still smelled like paige’s shampoo. god. she missed her. missed the sound of her voice, the stupid way she hummed to herself while brushing her teeth, the weight of paige’s arm slung across her waist when they slept. she missed being wrapped up in paige like she was a blanket and a safe place all at once.

azzi buried her face deeper into the pillow and let out a frustrated groan.

“why hasn’t she said anything?”

later that afternoon at practice the gym lights were too bright.

or maybe it was just her eyes.

azzi blinked against the sharp glare, hands on her knees as she tried to breathe evenly. her legs felt like jelly. her limbs lagged behind her mind. everything about her felt… sluggish.

she’d barely eaten.

her stomach churned with nerves and something like shame.

every drill was a blur. every cut, every pivot, felt like running through sand.

and paige?

she was there. of course she was.

on the opposite side of the court, laser-focused, sharp as ever. but her eyes flicked over. quick glances. barely-there moments. paige didn’t say a word.

azzi felt it like a slap every time.

“fudd! sprint!” cd snapped.

azzi flinched, blinked out of her haze, and launched into motion.

her shoes squeaked. her breath came too fast, too shallow. she pushed harder.

she couldn’t let anyone see. especially not paige.

but halfway down the court, her legs wobbled. her vision darkened around the edges. she shook her head, blinked fast, forced her body to keep moving. just one more drill. just one more run.

then she could crawl back to bed and hide from all of this.

paige noticed everything.

the way azzi’s shot was a fraction off. the way she didn’t call out switches. the way she walked, not ran, to reset.

paige’s chest was tight the entire practice. her hands flexed, wanting to do something, say something—but she couldn’t.

because what if she pushed too hard? what if azzi didn’t want her anymore?

she kept glancing over. couldn’t stop. couldn’t help it. azzi was her person. her gravity. even when they fought, her body was tuned to her. her heart pulled toward her like a tide.

the day before practice, azzi didn’t get out of bed until noon.

even then, it was only because her phone buzzed with a calendar reminder about watching film. she sat up slowly, arms wrapped tight around her middle, the weight of everything pressing on her chest like she was underwater. her stomach turned the second she stood.

she hadn’t eaten dinner the night before. she didn’t feel hungry—just… hollow.

she pulled on the first hoodie she saw—paige’s gray one with the frayed sleeve cuff—and yanked the hood up over her head. it still smelled like her. it made her heart lurch.

she picked up her phone. still no reply to the message she never answered. the guilt settled deep in her throat.

she thought about texting. just: “hey.” or: “can we talk?” but every time her thumb hovered, something screamed don’t.

if paige wasn’t texting again, maybe she really meant it this time. maybe she was finally tired of being the one to apologize. maybe she was over it.

maybe she was over her.

that one thought unraveled azzi completely.

they’d laid here together a week ago, after a long day of practice. paige had curled into her side, arm draped across her waist, face buried in her neck.

“you always smell like strawberries,” paige had mumbled.

“i literally use vanilla body wash.”

“well, your neck smells like strawberries. so i win.”

azzi had laughed—soft, warm, the kind of laugh that only came with paige close enough to breathe in. paige had kissed her under the jaw. then again. then again.

“i’m so in love with you,” she whispered.

azzi had closed her eyes and whispered it back.

now in the film room azzi barely took in a word. her eyes burned.

when coach paused the tape and asked her what she saw in a defensive rotation, she answered wrong.

paige was in the front row, taking notes, jaw tight.

azzi could feel her there. every movement was a live wire.

but they didn’t make eye contact.

azzi chewed on her bottom lip hard enough to leave a mark.

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

at 2 am azzi sat up in bed again, hoodie pulled tight. she hadn’t slept. the room was too still, too cold without paige’s voice, without her sleepy murmurs and half-snores.

she looked at the empty half of the bed.

her fingers twitched.

then she turned and curled into paige’s pillow.

the crash was coming. azzi’s body was screaming for rest. her heart was begging for peace.

and paige?

paige had reached her limit too.

but not in the way people thought. paige wasn’t done loving azzi. she was just tired of pretending it didn’t hurt that she wasn’t allowed to be mad, too. that she had to always be the one to cave.

but the next day at practice… something shifted.

azzi’s shoes were too tight. or maybe her feet were swollen. her head felt distant, like the sound in the gym was underwater.

she kept pushing through drills. cut after cut. jumper after jumper.

her legs were slow. her vision blurred. her head pounded.

she hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. barely drank water. her body was quitting, and she knew it.

but her heart wasn’t ready to give in.

across the court, paige felt it. like an echo in her chest.

she watched azzi miss an easy layup. azzi, who never missed like that. her form was perfect—even when she was tired. this wasn’t normal.

paige’s fingers gripped her shorts tighter.

she wanted to run to her. pull her aside. just say, “baby, please look at me.”

but she couldn’t. not after three days of silence. not after azzi had turned away.

so paige said nothing. and hated herself for it.

coach blew the whistle. “transition drill! go!”

azzi took off on autopilot. half-court. full speed.her foot dragged slightly. then again.

paige noticed.

then, azzi tripped. her step turned into a stumble. her knee didn’t bend—it buckled. her body folded mid-sprint.

she dropped hard. hard enough that the sound of her hitting the court echoed.

paige’s body moved before her mind. she was sprinting, heart pounding, mouth dry.

azzi was curled slightly on her side, knees tucked. her hands trembled.

paige dropped to her knees next to her, not caring who saw. she cupped azzi’s cheek, voice shaking.

“baby. hey—hey, look at me. come on.”

azzi opened her eyes, barely. her lips parted.

“i’m fine…” she whispered. “i’m okay.”

“you’re not okay,” paige choked. “jesus, azzi. you scared the shit outta me.”

azzi tried to sit up. paige held her still.

“no, stay. just… stay for a sec.”

her hands were everywhere—checking her forehead, brushing hair from her face, stroking her wrist with her thumb. protective didn’t even begin to cover it.

teammates shouted for coach, but paige wasn’t moving.

“i’ve got her,” she said. “i’ve got you, honey. i promise.”

azzi leaned into her weakly

paige’s arms tightened around her like a lifeline.

she whispered, over and over:

“i’m here. i’m here. i’m so sorry.”

the gym cleared around them, but paige couldn’t see anyone else. her entire world narrowed to the girl breathing shallowly in her arms.

azzi’s skin was cold, damp. her body slack. her head rested against paige’s chest now, breaths slowing, eyelids heavy.

“az, baby, please stay with me,” paige whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “you scared me so bad.”

azzi mumbled something against her shirt.

“what?” paige leaned closer.

“i’m just tired,” azzi whispered.

her voice was paper-thin. hoarse. barely there.

“you haven’t been eating,” paige said, soft but firm. “have you?”

azzi didn’t answer.

“that’s what i thought,” paige murmured. “fuck.”

her voice cracked on the word. she pulled azzi closer, forehead pressed to hers. “you don’t get to do that to me. you don’t get to scare me like that.”

the coaches approached with water, ice packs. cd started to say something.

paige stood slowly, one arm locked around azzi’s waist, holding her up like she was made of glass.

“i’m taking her back,” paige said. her voice didn’t leave room for debate. “now.”

no one argued.

she barely noticed the stares as she helped azzi into the hallway. every few steps, azzi stumbled a little, and paige steadied her, one hand at the small of her back, the other gripping her hand tightly.

“you okay?” she asked, every twenty seconds.

azzi just nodded weakly.

paige muttered under her breath, almost angrily—at herself, not azzi. “should’ve checked in sooner. should’ve seen it.”

they stepped into the cool air outside. paige tugged her hoodie off and draped it over azzi’s shoulders without a word. she held her closer. pressed a kiss to her hair.

“you’re freezing,” she murmured. “jesus, baby…”

azzi leaned into her, not saying anything yet. just letting herself be held.

and paige? paige held her like she was terrified someone might take her.

when they got to her dorm, paige helped azzi sit down on the edge of the bed. she knelt in front of her, eyes wide with worry, hands gentle and constantly moving—fixing her hoodie, tucking loose curls behind her ear, rubbing soft circles into her knee.

“you’re okay now,” paige whispered. “i’ve got you.”

azzi nodded, eyes low. voice quiet. “sorry i scared you.”

“you didn’t just scare me,” paige said. “you ruined me.” she said it with a smile, but her voice broke at the end. her hand came up to azzi’s jaw, thumb brushing her cheek.

“i’m sorry, too,” she added. “for being stubborn. for not texting. for not checking in when i saw you struggling.”

azzi looked at her then. really looked. those big, tired eyes. a little glassy. a little sad.

“you weren’t supposed to wait,” azzi said. “you’re the one who always comes back.”

“i know,” paige whispered. “but i thought maybe you needed space. i thought maybe… i don’t know. maybe you didn’t want me to anymore.”

azzi scoffed—soft, bitter. “that’s dumb.”

paige smiled again, just barely. “yeah. i know.”

there was a beat of silence. just breath between them. then paige cupped azzi’s face fully, both hands now, holding her steady.

“i don’t care about the fight,” she said. “i care that you stopped eating. that you couldn’t sleep. that you fainted. az, if something happened to you…”

her voice cracked.

“i can’t lose you. do you hear me?”

azzi’s eyes welled. “you’re not going to.”

“you scared me,” paige said again. “like, heart-ripped-out-of-my-chest kind of scared. i didn’t even think. i just ran. and when i saw you on the floor like that…”

she broke. tears slipped down her cheeks. azzi reached up and brushed them away with her thumbs.

“don’t cry,” she said softly.

“i have to,” paige whispered. “you didn’t see your face. you looked like you were fading.”

azzi closed her eyes and whispered, teasing but soft: “told you. this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige blinked. then she laughed—just once. sharp, wet, broken. “god, i love you.”

azzi smiled. still weak. still pale. but she smiled.

“i missed you,” she said. “even when i was mad.”

paige leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

“i never stop missing you,” she whispered. “even when you’re two feet away and pretending i don’t exist. i’m still in love with you. obsessed with you. down bad, as they all say.”

azzi laughed softly, the sound barely more than a breath.

then she whispered, “lay with me?”

paige didn’t answer. she just gently helped azzi lie back, then slid in beside her, arms curling around her like a cocoon. azzi sighed into the warmth of it. her head on paige’s chest. paige’s hand stroking her back. their legs tangled.

“you’re not going anywhere,” paige said.

azzi hummed.

“not without you.”

azzi fell asleep first, wrapped in paige like a weighted blanket. paige stayed awake a little longer, just watching her, whispering promises under her breath.

“i’ll never make you feel like that again.”

“i’ll always choose you.”

“i’m yours. no matter what.”

─────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

the sun was barely up, just a faint wash of peach light bleeding in through the dorm window. the clock read 6:40 am.

azzi stirred under the blanket, her head still resting on paige’s chest. paige didn’t move, not even a little.

she’d been awake for a while. just… watching. listening.

every rise and fall of azzi’s breath was a gift she hadn’t realized she needed until last night.

she almost lost her. not really—but it felt like that.

paige kissed azzi’s hair again, slow and soft.

“morning, beautiful,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

azzi shifted. a soft groan left her lips. “what time is it?”

“too early.”

azzi didn’t move. she just nuzzled her face deeper into paige’s hoodie, still hanging loose on her.

“you stayed.”

“of course i stayed,” paige said. “where else would i be?”

azzi shrugged against her. “i don’t know. avoiding me. like you were for three days.”

paige sighed. “fair. deserved that.”

azzi smirked—barely. “damn right.”

paige traced lazy circles on azzi’s arm.

“i was stupid,” she said softly. “i thought giving you space was the right move. i didn’t want to push you.”

“you didn’t push,” azzi murmured. “you disappeared.”

that one landed. paige’s hand paused. “i’m sorry.”

azzi lifted her head, just slightly, enough to look paige in the eye. her voice was rough from sleep, but steady. “you could’ve just said you were hurt. i would’ve listened.”

“i didn’t want to make it worse.”

“you not being there was worse.”

paige swallowed hard.

“i don’t want to fight with you,” she said. “not like that. not where it makes you stop taking care of yourself. you’re everything to me, az. you get that, right?”

azzi nodded slowly.

paige lifted a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing the skin there with almost reverent care.

“i watched you fall and i swear to god, i felt my heart stop. that’s never happening again.”

azzi leaned into her touch.

then whispered, “what if we fight again?”

“we probably will,” paige admitted. “but i’ll still choose you. every time. even when i’m mad. even when you’re being a pain in the ass.”

azzi bit her lip, trying not to grin too wide. “down bad?”

“tragically.”

azzi rolled onto her side, facing her fully now, hand resting on paige’s chest. her fingers curled into the fabric. “i missed you so much it made me feel sick.”

“i know, baby,” paige said, voice breaking a little. “i could see it.”

“then why didn’t you say something?”

“i thought maybe you needed time. and part of me…” she looked away, just for a second. “i guess i thought maybe you didn’t need me as much as i need you.”

azzi’s eyebrows pulled in, sharp. “don’t ever think that again.”

paige met her eyes.

“i don’t know how to do this without you,” she whispered.

azzi leaned forward, kissed her slow—no heat, no rush, just a soft press of lips to lips that said everything they hadn’t.

“i love you,” azzi said when she pulled back.

paige’s face crumpled slightly. “i love you more.”

“you don’t.”

“i definitely do.”

“i passed out and you still ignored me for three days before that,” azzi said, now fully grinning.

“hey,” paige said, mock offended. “i ignored you for like… two and a half. max.”

azzi snorted. “still almost died.”

“oh my god.” paige groaned, dropping her head to the pillow. “you’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?”

“nope,” azzi said, kissing her again. “this is what happens when you ignore me.”

paige’s hands slid around her waist.

“lesson learned,” she said. “never again.”

azzi yawned against her. “you gonna make me eat today?”

“absolutely,” paige said. “i’ll spoon-feed you if i have to. like, sit you on my lap and everything.”

azzi blinked, both eyebrows raised.

“…you’re enjoying this, huh?”

“a little.”

they both laughed—quiet and close, forehead to forehead. all the weight was still there, but it wasn’t pressing down anymore. it was shared now. carried between them.

later azzi sat cross-legged on paige’s bed with a bowl of oatmeal. paige had made it with almond butter, bananas, and a drizzle of honey—because it was the only thing azzi had even slightly agreed to.

paige hovered like a mom with a sick toddler, kneeling next to the bed.

“you good? you want a smoothie too?”

azzi smirked. “sit down. you’re making me nervous.”

paige didn’t move.

“you want me to feed you? ‘cause i will.”

azzi gave her a look. “you’re lucky i love you.”

paige reached over and kissed her shoulder. “i really, really am.”

azzi was wearing nothing but paige’s oversized hoodie and a pair of her own black shorts. her hair was up in a messy bun, strands loose around her face. her legs were bare, pale and smooth, tucked under her. her skin still had that soft post-sleep warmth to it.

and paige?

paige was down astronomically bad.

she was kneeling in front of the bed, chin propped on the edge like a puppy, eyes locked on azzi like she was studying her, memorizing every inch.

“you’re literally staring,” azzi said around a mouthful of oatmeal.

“i know,” paige said. no shame. just awe. “you’re so pretty it’s actually ruining my life.”

azzi gave her a side-eye, chewing slow. “baby. it’s oatmeal.”

“i don’t care,” paige whispered. “you could be eating something disgusting and i’d still be like, ‘wow, my girlfriend is so hot.’”

azzi laughed softly, setting the bowl down beside her. paige’s eyes tracked the movement like she was hypnotized.

then, slowly, deliberately, paige climbed up onto the bed. not crawling—more like gliding. she moved up on her knees, hands on either side of azzi’s hips.

“paige…”

“mhmm?”

azzi narrowed her eyes playfully. “you said i needed to eat.”

“you did. and now you did.” paige leaned in, nose brushing against azzi’s cheek. “which means now i get to touch you.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching. “you were already touching me all night.”

“yeah, but you were kinda dying, so it doesn’t count.”

azzi rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. paige leaned in and kissed her cheek. then her jaw. then her collarbone—slow, tender, reverent.

“missed you so much,” paige murmured between kisses. “you don’t even know.”

her hands slid up under the hoodie, not to start anything, just to feel. her palms pressed flat against azzi’s lower back, thumbs brushing gently against her ribs.

“you’re so soft,” paige said, voice thick with affection. “how are you real?”

azzi wrapped her arms around paige’s neck, holding her close. “i should be mad at you still, babe.”

“you can be,” paige said, kissing just under her ear. “just don’t make me stop touching you.”

“you’re so clingy,” azzi whispered.

“and you love it,” paige whispered back.

she kissed her again—under the jaw, along her shoulder, small, dotting kisses that made azzi melt visibly. every touch was a little apology, a little i missed you, a little i’m never letting you go again.

paige slid down slightly, pressing kisses along azzi’s thigh now, her arms looped loosely around her waist. her voice dropped to a soft murmur.

“i’m gonna spend every second of this week making sure you never forget how much i love you. you get that, sweetheart?”

azzi looked down at her, cheeks warm. “you’re being intense.”

“i almost lost you. i’m allowed to be intense.”

“you didn’t almost lose me,” azzi said gently.

“you stopped eating, baby. you fainted. you think i didn’t notice your eyes getting darker every day?” paige kissed the inside of her knee. “that’s losing you. even a little bit of you slipping away? that’s too much.”

azzi touched paige’s hair, running her fingers through it slowly. “okay,” she whispered. “i get it.”

paige looked up at her. “yeah?”

azzi nodded. “i love you, too. even when you’re clingy and dramatic.”

“sue me.” paige said dramatically, crawling back up to eye level. she kissed azzi’s forehead. then the tip of her nose. then both cheeks. then her lips, once, then twice.

“you’re gonna be okay,” paige whispered. “i’m gonna make sure of it.”

azzi smiled sleepily, hands sliding around paige’s waist, pulling her closer. “you’re the sweetest when you’re scared.”

paige didn’t deny it. she curled into azzi, pulling the blanket over both of them even though the sun was fully up.

“i’m yours and you’re mine,” she whispered.

“yours,” azzi echoed, already half-asleep again.

azzi lay back against the pillows, arms behind her head, hoodie rising slightly to show the smooth line of her stomach. paige was tucked beside her, hand resting innocently—well, not so innocently—on her thigh.

“you keep staring,” azzi said, voice lazy and smug.

“how could i not?” paige said. “you’re out here looking like a dream and you know what you’re doing.”

azzi smirked. “i’m just lying here. you’re the one acting like i put a spell on you.”

“you did put a spell on me.”

“oh?” azzi lifted a brow and tilted her head. “and what kind of spell is that?”

paige’s voice dropped, just slightly, her eyes locked on her lips. “the kind where i can’t stop thinking about you. touching you. dreaming about you even when you’re lying right next to me.”

azzi leaned in, eyes hooded. “then maybe you should do something about it.”

there was a beat of silence. heavy, charged.

then paige let out a soft groan and rolled over her, caging azzi in with her arms.

“i love you,” she whispered, voice thick. “but you are so evil sometimes.”

azzi grinned. “you like it.”

paige kissed her. harder than before. not rushed, but deeper, more urgent—like every second of missed touches the past few days was pouring out through her mouth.

azzi pulled her in closer, legs wrapping around paige’s hips.

their bodies moved like they’d been waiting, aching, syncing right back into rhythm. there was no fumbling. just heat and softness, breath and skin.

paige’s hands roamed carefully, her fingertips ghosting under the hem of azzi’s hoodie, grazing up her sides, feeling every inhale, every flutter. she kissed her like she needed it to live—along her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her chest. soft and slow, then sharp and hungry, then slow again.

“paige…” azzi murmured, barely a whisper, eyes fluttering shut.

“mmhmm?”

“i still feel kinda weak,” she breathed, teasing.

“then let me take care of you.”

azzi smirked. “so dramatic.”

paige kissed the smirk off her.

“you have no idea,” she said.

in that moment, wrapped up in each other under soft light and warm sheets, the fight felt like something distant. not forgotten, but forgiven. their hearts had bruises, sure. but they were still beating in sync.

and for paige, holding the only girl who ever made her feel whole, there was no place else she’d ever want to be.

[hrtwayne]

Hot to Go! | Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Attacking Midfielder!Reader

Summary: Where Leah has a crush on the team's new attacking midfielder.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Sexual Tension and Leah Being Completely Oblivious!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

Leah Williamson had always been known for her discipline and dedication. As the Captain of Arsenal, she was the role model to follow, both on and off the field. Her mornings at the training center were almost always the same: arriving before the others, quickly changing her clothes, and starting her warm-up while the sun had barely risen. It was a routine she had mastered, a ritual that kept her focused. But on that Friday morning, something—or someone—completely disrupted the course of her routine.

When Leah entered the locker room, her backpack already on her shoulders and a cup of coffee in hand, she could hardly believe what she saw. Y/n, the new Spanish midfield signing, was there, with her back turned to Leah, her hair loose and cascading down her back. The training shirt was hanging on a nearby hook, and Y/n seemed completely at ease, as if the locker room were her second home. Leah stopped at the door, as if she had bumped into an invisible wall. Her eyes fixed on the scene, and for a moment, she felt her world come to a halt.

The defender swallowed hard, her lips suddenly dry and her cheeks beginning to burn, turning a shade of red she couldn’t control. Leah tried to look away, but she seemed hypnotized by the sight of her new teammate. It was then that Y/n cleared her throat, and Leah blinked several times, as if waking from a dream.

"Everything alright, Captain?" Y/n asked, her voice still hoarse from recent sleep. She turned slowly, crossing her arms and tilting her head to the side, a playful smile on her lips. "Your face is a little red."

Leah felt her heart race, as if she had just run a marathon. She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, but she knew she had already been caught red-handed. And the worst—or perhaps the best—part was that Y/n seemed completely amused by the situation.

"I... I'm fine," Leah finally managed to say, her voice slightly higher-pitched than usual. "I just... didn’t expect to see anyone here so early."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, a sound that sent a shiver down Leah’s spine. The midfielder stepped closer, passing by the captain with a lightness that seemed almost choreographed. Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and Leah couldn’t decide whether she wanted to run away or stay there forever.

Next time, try to be a little more subtle, Captain," Y/n murmured, her voice smooth as silk. "My eyes are up here."

Leah stood frozen, watching as Y/n grabbed her training shirt and put it on with a naturalness that left the defender even more breathless. When Y/n finally left the locker room, Leah let out the breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. She leaned against the wall, feeling her legs slightly shaky.

"What’s happening to me?" Leah thought, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She had already admitted to herself that she felt an attraction to Y/n from the first time she saw her train. The way Y/n moved on the field, her confidence, her easy smile—it had all left Leah completely fascinated. But now, that morning in the locker room, had brought everything to the surface in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

As Leah finally began to change, her mind couldn’t stop reliving the moment. She knew she needed to maintain professionalism—after all, they were teammates, and Y/n was the new signing. But something about that morning had changed, and Leah wasn’t sure if she knew how to handle it.

When Leah finally left the locker room, already dressed and ready for training, she saw Y/n on the field, warming up with a lightness that seemed to defy gravity. The captain took a deep breath, trying to focus on the task ahead. But deep down, she knew that morning wouldn’t be as ordinary as she had expected.

And maybe, just maybe, Leah didn’t want it to be.

[uolarieclosed]

nishimura riki ☆ ! glue song

━━━ in which the soccer captain can’t contain his overflowing desire for you …

NISHIMURA RIKI who leaves a drink he got at the cafeteria on your desk every morning before you come in.

“they didn’t have the one you liked, so i got you chocolate instead.” riki stands beside your desk with his hands in his pockets as he watches you grab the drink. “you really didn’t have to riki.” “i wanted to.”

NISHIMURA RIKI who likes to tease you by hiding your pencil case or work book so he can have an excuse to talk to you.

NISHIMURA RIKI who does anything he can to get you both in trouble so you can be in detention together and he has more time to spend with you.

NISHIMURA RIKI who shares his earbuds with you in class and has a specifically curated playlist for you with songs you said you like.

NISHIMURA RIKI who stares at you shamelessly just to watch you blush under his gaze.

NISHIMURA RIKI who flirts with you because he knows about the tiny crush you have on him.

“so, what’s your type?” he asks one day while he plays with your hair. “is it me?” he raises his eyebrows, teasing you but in reality he hopes you say yes.

NISHIMURA RIKI who invites you to his soccer game with plans on asking you out after + he makes you wear his jersey so everyone knows you’re his.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who asks you out with an entire poster board held up by his teammates and a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who leaves his team zip up at your place so you can wear it to school (also because he loves when it smells like you).

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who walks you home everyday without fail even though he’s always late to his practice.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who won’t shut up about you in the locker room and everyone knows who you are despite not meeting you properly.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who tries hard every game and practice to impress you knowing you’re in the stands watching him.

“put your shirt down!” heeseung yells as riki wipes his sweat off—showing his abs and smirking at you.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who introduces himself as your boyfriend to all your friends.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who thinks your kisses are his lucky charm and cannot go to the field without one of your pecks.

“why aren’t you playing?” you run your hands through his hair as he pouts. “you didn’t give me my kiss.” his arms are crossed and he huffs until you give in.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who has a shrine of you in his locker and occasionally has conversations with you before his practice (he’s insane).

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who goes all out for valentine’s day and sends a flower to you every class period until you have a full bouquet.

“did you like my surprise?” his arm is around your shoulder as he walks through the halls. “it was nice riki, thank you.” “there’s still more.”

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who gets jealous easily and doesn’t like it when you give someone else his undivided attention, so he gives you the cold shoulder.

however, he doesn’t last long until he’s spamming your phone and showing up at your house for late night cuddles.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to ignore you.” he mutters while he hides in the crook of your neck feeling nervous but also accomplished.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who buys you matching jewelry and clothes because he feels connected even when you both are away from one another.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who teaches you how to play soccer so he can brag to all his teammates.

“so, i’ve been thinking that jake should be replaced by my girlfriend.” “stop it!”

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who claims that the reason he exists is to be your boyfriend.

SOCCER!CAPTAIN RIKI who isn’t shy to say he loves you with all his heart.

“i think you’re the coolest person ever, i love you.” he randomly says one night as you both go for a walk, but ultimately you feel the same.

© 2024 uolarie

[hgfictionwriter]

Self Control: Part Thirteen - Arrival

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: After months of waiting, the moment is finally here. You and Jessie welcome your newborn daughter into the world.

Warnings: Difficult labour. Graphic birth. Language.

A/N: Thank you to everyone for sticking with me so long on this journey. And thank you to everyone who answered the poll about the baby's name weeks ago!

The final whistles blew and Jessie braced her hands on her knees as she took a moment to breathe. She looked up in disappointment at the scoreboard, but soon rallied and began high fiving her teammates.

She did her rounds around the pitch with the team to thank and greet the fans and the stadium lights shone brightly by the time she and the team started filtering into the tunnel.

She walked over to her cubby and retrieved her phone first thing. You were days away from your due date and knew to call the staff if you went into labour - they’d get Jessie off the pitch right away - still, she worried.

Two texts from you. No missed phone calls though. That was a good sign.

Jess. Contractions have started.

The midwife’s on her way. Don’t panic. My water hasn’t broken and we know this could be hours and hours. I’ll call if things escalate.

Jessie stood frozen. Her eyes were wide and her phone sat idle in her hand. She didn’t even think she was breathing.

Then, all of a sudden, she snapped back to the moment and spun on her heels in a rush to start gathering her things, inadvertently tripping over the bench and careening into Janine who was standing nearby.

“Hey!” Janine complained as she rubbed her shoulder. Jessie was already scrambling back to her cubby by the time the blonde even turned around.

“I-I’ve gotta go,” Jessie stammered as she shakily threw belongings into her backpack. She rushed towards the exit, belatedly realizing she didn’t have shoes on and cursed, running back.

“Whoa,” Janine frowned as Jessie tried to stomp into her shoes and soon haphazardly tried to guide them on with trembling hands. “Everything good?”

Jessie was short of breath as her eyes darted across the floor absently as she now palmed at her pockets.

“Where are my keys…,” she mumbled as she spun on the spot looking around wildly.

“Jess,” Janine spoke firmly as she waved in the girl’s face, belatedly drawing Jessie’s attention up to her. Janine spoke measuredly. “What’s going on?”

Jessie’s mouth was dry as she opened it to speak, nothing coming out initially. “Y/N-Y/N’s in labour.”

“Oh shit,” Janine said, her own eyes growing wide before more shock settled in. “Wait. When?!”

“I-I don’t know!” Jessie replied, voice and emotions rising. “During the game sometime?” Her words tapered as she absently fetched her phone in an attempt to check the timestamp of your message, but fumbled it onto the floor instead. “Fuck.”

“Okay, hold on,” Janine said holding up both hands. Jessie dodged around her and started tearing her bag apart looking for her keys.

“I have to go,” she said curtly.

“I will drive you,” Janine told her. “You’re…frazzled. Let me drive you home. You can reset on the drive.”

Jessie opened her mouth to speak as she tried to process the offer and the consequences of it. She found herself shaking her head before she could find the words.

“No. I - we need the car. If something goes wrong…,” she trailed off, now digging in her pockets again in vain.

Janine reached out and calmly grabbed keys off the shelf of her cubby.

“Looking for these?” She gave her a pointed look. “I’m driving you. I will drive your car and I can get a ride from one of the girls back to my place. Now let’s go.”

The blonde had Jessie by the arm as soon as she finished speaking and began calmly ushering her out of the locker room, quickly speaking to Sam and communicating the plan as she walked out. The locker room immediately erupted into a buzz of activity at the news, and Janine held up her arm to keep them at bay.

“You’ll get updates soon, I’m sure,” she called over her shoulder. “Baby Fleming will be here soon, everyone. But not too soon!”

Jessie’s heart raced and she peered over her shoulder to see the team wishing her and you luck and to call if you needed anything.

She felt jittery and like her limbs were numb as they walked briskly to her car. As she was getting in she saw Sam running out to her own car saying she’d follow so she could drive Janine back.

“Baby convoy!” Janine announced brightly as she started the car. Meanwhile, Jessie was still short of breath as she fumbled with the seatbelt.

She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath, finally getting her seatbelt on and feeling her pulse start to even out.

“I can’t believe she didn’t call,” Jessie breathed as she pushed her head back into the headrest, palms braced on her thighs and eyes closed as she worked to steady her nerves.

Janine snickered slightly as she manoeuvred them towards the house.

“Sounds like you’re more panicked than her,” she teased, drawing a dark glare from Jessie.

“Or,” she drew out her word in emphasis, “she’s not taking this seriously enough. How can she be so nonchalant? What the fuck.”

“Get it out of your system, because you’re going to have to be calm and supportive from here on it,” Janine told her. She gave her friend a purposeful look as she drove. "And I know you - when shit gets crazy and there's chaos, you are the calm in all of that."

Jessie gave a shaky exhale before accepting with a few nods, trying to let Janine's words sink in and reassure her. She took one more steadying breath before bringing the phone up to her ear to call you.

The phone rang several times before you picked up. You'd hardly greeted her before Jessie spoke over you.

"Babe, why didn't you call me? Are you okay? Is the midwife there yet? How far apart the contractions? Are you alright?"

So much for calm.

"Jess." You spoke firmly, but patiently waiting her out and forcing a lull before continuing. "I am fine. No, Theresa's not here. Contractions are still 20 minutes apart and only lasting about 40 seconds. I talked to her though. It's just early labour. She'll come when I'm between 5 and 10 minutes, and that could be hours away."

A mixture of relief and apprehension flooded Jessie's system. You were fine. But at the same time, your contractions had started. It was time. And she wasn't there.

"Okay," she managed to say as she forced a smile and hoped it filtered into her voice as well. "I'm on my way right now. I'm probably 10 minutes away."

"Alright," you said. "Drive safe. You don't need to rush - just get here safely."

"Oh, well, Janine-"

"Oh fuck."

"What?" Jessie cut in, alarm cresting inside of her as she sat forward in her seat and her breath caught.

"Um," you said, "my water just broke."

"Oh fuck," Jessie echoed. She held out her hand to calm herself more than anything. "Okay. Okay - I'll be there right away, Y/N."

"Mmnh," she heard you grimace into the phone as a contraction hit you.

"Babe," Jessie said helplessly, leaning her elbow on her thigh and cupping her face. The line was silent and it was killing her. "How bad is it? Are you okay?"

"...Yep," you said through grit teeth. Jessie sighed in frustration.

"Baby, why didn't you call me?" She implored weakly. "I should be there right now. It's just a stupid football game. I love you and I should've been there this whole time with you."

"Mm, if it’s alright with you we can fight about this later. I’m trying to have your baby right about now," you said.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," Jessie said, her nerves immediately settling as she recentered herself. "We're only a few streets away. I'll be there soon, babe."

"I know, love," you said with an audible, drawn out breath. "Okay. It's over."

Jessie found herself exhaling along with you. She kept you company on the phone and soon pulled up to the front of your house.

"Call if you need anything," Janine told her as she got out of the car to give her a hug and give her the keys. "I'm serious."

"Yes, of course," Jessie said distractedly, her eyes focused on the front door and hurriedly drawing herself out of her friend's embrace to get to you. She was halfway down the walk when she turned, walking backwards still towards the door. "You're good to get home?"

"My ride's right here," Janine assured her as she pointed to Sam pulling around the corner. "You've got this! Give us updates when you can!"

"Alright," Jessie said with a series of rapid nods as she turned back around. She gave a vague wave and fumbled with the keys before opening the door. She swung it open and threw her bag down in the entryway.

"Y/N!" She called as she began to search the house.

“In here!”

Jessie spun around and jogged towards your voice. She rounded a corner to see you sitting on the couch, apparently in a fresh set of shorts, a hand on your stomach.

A rush of relief and adoration went through her just upon seeing you. She felt a calm rush over her despite everything. Now she was where she was supposed to be. No matter what happened, you were together and would navigate it all with one another.

She walked over and dropped to her knees in front of you. She hugged your middle as far as her arms would let her and peppered your face with kisses. She jostled as you chuckled and ran your fingers through her hair.

“Hi baby,” you greeted.

“Hi,” she said gently, eyes bright and almost teary as she pulled back to look up at you and take you in. She gave a slow shake of her head. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I-”

“Jessie. It’s okay. If I was worried or needed you to rush I would’ve called. We are perfectly okay,” you assured her, holding her gaze. “You know we could be going through this for a long time before something really happens.”

Jessie nodded reluctantly. It was true, but still.

“I just wanted to be here for you through all of it,” she went on before holding up her hands, palms out. “But, let’s move on.” You gave her a grateful look. “I’m here. And I’m not leaving your side. I’m here to do anything and everything you need while you do this incredible work to bring our baby into the world,” she said as she sat back enough to tenderly caress your taut stomach.

Just like their midwife and classes said, early labour was long and tedious. Movies and shows made it seem so sudden and fast, but in reality, at least for you, it was hours and hours of ever increasing pain.

You’d barely slept all night and she knew you were exhausted already, but things were poised to only escalate further; a cycle that would continue to close in and worsen.

As your contractions increased, she felt desperate to help, but was entirely powerless. It broke her heart to see you in so much pain, knowing it was her fault in a way and she couldn’t share the burden at all.

“Ooo,” you breathed steadily and audibly, your hands on your back and eyes closed as you walked in a slow circle in the living room, trying to walk through the pain and discomfort. Jessie trailed behind you, eyes trained on you, watching vigilantly for an opportunity to help or support.

Your steps stilled and your face screwed up in pain. You doubled over slightly, bracing your hands on your thighs and Jessie had her arm around you in a second, supporting your weight to hold you up.

“Mm,” you ground out, eyes still tightly shut and body tense as you rode out a wave of pain.

Jessie rubbed your lower back in an effort to provide some reprieve, however small. “Try not to forget to breathe,” she coached gently, not wanting to dictate things for you or discredit your efforts, but also still try to keep the coping strategies as forefront as possible to hopefully help you.

“Yes, dear,” you said tightly, your irritation not entirely veiled, as you let your head fall back. You breathed despite your complaint and she saw its effects as your body relaxed subtly.

When you’d finally rode out the contraction you went over and sat down on the yoga ball in the room with a heavy sigh and a small groan. Jessie came up behind you immediately and began massaging your back once more, earning a soft moan of appreciation as you rolled your hips back and forth.

“Oh my gosh,” you said. “She’s so low in my pelvis. It’s so much pressure.”

“That contraction was only five minutes apart. I’m going to call Theresa,” she told you as you distractedly nodded. She retrieved her phone and stood to walk a few feet away.

"Please don't go far," you beseeched as you peered over your shoulder at her retreating form. "I need you here."

Jessie turned around right away and returned to your side, placed her hand between your shoulders and began massaging your sore muscles there. "I'm right here, baby," she assured you and you immediately brought a hand up to her wrist, clinging to her and not letting go.

Jessie hung up a couple of minutes later and tucked the phone away in her pocket.

"She's on her way," she told you and you merely nodded again, eyes now trained on the ceiling in focus. "I'll go get you some more water," she went on and cracked a smile for you. "I'll be a minute tops. And I'll make sure it has lots of ice."

When she returned, you took the cup from her gratefully and Jessie knelt in front of you. Your arms came up around her shoulders right away and you leaned heavily on her, moaning and resting your head against hers. Her chest filled with warmth and she kissed your cheek.

You began to wince, another contraction coming on, your arms tightening around her. Jessie leaned up into you to better support your weight.

"Distract me," you told her, voice faintly strained. "Tell me something."

"Um, okay," she said as reached up around you to rub your back as best she could. She wracked her brain, annoyed that it was suddenly blank. Eventually she lit up as a thought popped up.

"Okay. Did you know that mangrove forests are incredibly effective at storing carbon? Up to four times more per hectare than tropical rainforests?" She asked.

You chuckled softly despite your discomfort. "You are such a nerd. I love you." Whatever moment of relief you had quickly dissipated and she felt your face fill with tension once more against her own. "Okay, that kind of worked. Tell me something else."

"Hmm. Alright. Um, in university Teagan and I were in her dorm and - I don't know how it started - but we were competing to see who could balance longer on a basketball. She couldn't even fully stand up, so I, of course, was like, 'Yeah, I can absolutely do that' - I stood up, but went flying a moment later, like feet flying right out under me, the ball shot across the room and and busted this floor lamp and, I just ricocheted off the nearby bed, arms flailing and hitting the floor. So I won - but at what cost," she finished with a short laugh.

"Oh my god," you laughed, before clutching the underside of your stomach with a heightened wince. "Oh shit - that hurts. Okay, nothing funny," you said, though a smile still lingered despite the pain.

"Oh shit," Jessie said with an apologetic smile as she caressed your stomach and kissed your head once more. Her smile shifted into a smirk. "Well, if you didn't want anything funny, you shouldn't have gotten engaged to such a jokester."

You laughed again, wincing once more and nudging her. "Oh yeah, you're a regular comic."

"Um, okay. How about this? Remember how your team invited me to that sustainability event - long before our first date. And I came and we had some drinks and we started talking about [y/favourite show]?"

"Mhmm." You nodded against her.

"And remember how I said I loved that show?"

You nodded once more, still clinging to her.

"I kind of lied," Jessie admitted. She felt your grip on her change and she went on quickly. "I loved it! But I'd just overheard you gushing about it with your coworker on that call we all had a week before, so I binged it and read up on it before the event so I'd be able to talk to you about it. I was only like a season and half in by the event though - so I just read all the spoilers so we could talk at length about it. I was just so nervous and I wanted to make sure I could keep our conversation going and I'd have something interesting that you wanted to talk about!"

By the time Jessie finished your contraction had waned and you leaned back to give her a scrutinizing look that dissolved into a laugh.

"You're ridiculous. I enjoyed talking with you about so many things. Still do. Like when you talk about freakin mangroves." You smirked. "Well, since we're confessing. I did an awful lot of Googling about soccer after I met you the first time. Didn't want you to think I was completely clueless."

Jessie beamed, but it transformed into a mischievous grin a moment later. She shrugged her shoulder teasingly. "I could kinda tell."

"Hey!" You complained as you swatted playfully at her. "I'm in labour," you declared dramatically. "I'm having your baby! You're supposed to be nice to me right now."

Jessie laughed and kissed you. "You know I'd do absolutely anything for you."

------------------------

The midwife arrived and your labour continued. More hours wore on and there were moments where exhaustion threatened Jessie as well, especially coming right off of a game last night, but she pushed it aside to focus on and tend to you. Theresa did force her to take a few breaks here and there, but as far as Jessie was concerned, you didn't really have the choice to take breaks, so neither would she.

"Oh fuck," you breathed as another contraction hit you. The last one had only ended a few short minutes ago and you'd barely had a chance to recover before another washed over you.

You had your hands clasped around the back of Jessie's neck, both of you standing as she supported you while you hung down off of her. You grimaced in pain and your body trembled despite her holding you up. Sweat beaded across your forehead and you were pale.

She held you steady as you rocked, suspended from her shoulders, trying to find any ounce of relief as you rode out the wave.

"I need to lay down," you said in a shuddering voice as the contraction ended. You were weak, struggling to stand up in her arms now and leaned heavily on her as she ushered you towards the bed. She set you gently down on the edge and grabbed a towel to dab at the sweat on your brow.

She and the midwife got you settled onto the bed, a wall of pillows behind you to help you sit up. Your chest heaved up and down as you struggled.

"There's so much pressure," you winced. "Mmh. I feel like I need to push."

"Let's check your progress," Theresa said. Your legs were spread already, the only remotely comfortable position for you right now. "9 centimeters still," she said as she drew back a gloved hand and looked to you both. "Your contractions are getting closer and closer though. You'll be able to push soon."

You groaned heavily, nearly sobbing as your head rest listless against the pillows behind you. "Jessie," you cried her name feebly and she climbed up next to you on the bed in a flash, grasping your hand and holding it tightly.

"I'm too hot," you panted, hand clutching hers and the other clutching the sheets repeatedly in visible discomfort.

"Okay, baby," Jessie said with a series of dutiful nods and went to go grab you a cold, wet cloth, but you tightened your grip on her urgently.

"No, please don't go. Don't leave me," you whined and not even able to open your eyes as you fought through the relentless pain.

"I'm right here, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I'm with you," Jessie assured you without hesitation. A strange feeling came over her at seeing you, this woman who was so stubborn and independent, brought to this point where you were unabashedly clingy and desperate. It made sense and she was happy to cater to you, but it spoke to the level of distress you were in.

She looked to Theresa and the woman waved her off immediately, silently assuring her to stay and leave the task to her.

A clipped cry fell from your lips as a new contraction hit you. You tensed up and all Jessie could do was knead your tired muscles and do her best to serve as an anchor for you in this flurry of physical agony.

Your breathing was rapid and shallow and tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. You writhed in place and Jessie could see how you ground your teeth together. She reached up with her free hand to slowly, but firmly rub the center of your chest, hoping to subtly steady your breathing.

It was torture for her to see you like this. Grimacing in increasing pain for hours on end and knowing it was going to get worse before it would get better.

Your whole relationship, her only goal was to make your life easier, softer, more comfortable. And here you were in the greatest pain of your life and it was all her fault. She felt horrible.

"Oh fuck," you eventually whimpered as the contraction seemingly faded. Theresa returned with the cold compress and Jessie took it as she moved in closer to you and pressed it to your forehead. You turned into her and whimpered further.

"You're doing so good, baby," she said as she kissed the top of your head and held a cup of ice chips up to your mouth. You chewed a couple before pushing her hand away.

"Remember how I said I can’t wait until she’s here? I changed my mind.”

Jessie spied the faintest hint of a smirk on your lips. She kissed your head again, amazed that you could find the capacity for some kind of humour during such a time.

You pushed yourself up on the bed further and grimaced again. "Oh fuck." You doubled over in pain once more, clutching your rounded stomach. "I really feel like I need to push."

"You can't just yet, sweetie," Theresa said gently.

You groaned and you tugged on Jessie's arm to pull yourself forward. She watched the movements you were telegraphing and helped you onto your hands and knees. You immediately leaned your head down onto your folded arms, your legs spread wide, belly pressing into the bed as you moaned into the contraction.

Jessie rubbed your lower back and leaned forward to kiss your shoulder. You whimpered in response as you continued to labour on all fours.

You rocked subtly back and forth for several more waves of contractions until you let out a low, muffled yell.

"Jess. Jess - I can feel her. She's moving down," you panted.

She looked to Theresa in concern and the midwife checked your progress once more.

"Okay, sweetie. It's time - you're at 10 cm. When you feel the urge, you can go ahead and push."

You let out a small whimper and straightened your arms as you breathed heavily, preparing yourself. Jessie kissed the side of your head, lips lingering.

"You've got this, my love. You're amazing. You're so strong. I'm right here with you," Jessie said, ignoring the way her own pulse quickened at the prospect of what was to come.

You panted, eyes closed and still in such pain as you awaited the opportunity to push. She leaned forward slightly to keep watch of your face as she continued to knead your back and hips. Only a few seconds passed before your features screwed up and you tensed up, starting to push.

Jessie's nerves were beginning to fray as she realized what was happening.

You moaned as you bore down. Jessie shifted her attention to your entrance, though knowing it would be too early for any signs of your daughter appearing.

"Oh fuck," you cursed. You panted and your arms began to tremble. "S-she's coming Jess. Oh my God."

Jessie found herself smiling for some reason. She looked back up to you, "You're making it happen. You're incredible."

You continued to push until the contraction waned and your body grew limp, Jessie reaching out to help support you.

"That was great, Y/N. Just like that again next time, okay? You've got this. And if you need to change positions you tell us - we're here," Theresa said and you nodded faintly.

The next contraction came and you bore down once more. When it ended, you shook your head. "I need to sit back," you said, palming around looking for Jessie's hand. She reached out quickly to grasp your hand and began guiding you back. "I want you behind me." Jessie nodded and sat back against the pillows and nestled you in between her legs and you leaned back against her chest.

"This okay?" She asked as she pulled you tighter against her. You nodded rapidly, turning your head against her shoulder and burrowing against her as you pulled her arm across your chest and gripped her forearm with one hand, the other hand gripping her thigh.

Another groan fell from your lips as you began to push once more, your fingers digging into Jessie's arm and leg. Jessie sat up with you to help you push.

"You're doing so good," she whispered over your grunts as she gently thumbed your shoulder.

When the contraction ended you melted into Jessie's embrace and she continued to gently caress you. She steadied her breathing as she encouraged you to try to do the same and was pleased when your chest went from rapidly rising and falling to something calmer.

"Oh, Jess. She feels so big. Oh my God," you whimpered as you burrowed your face into her further. Jessie kissed the side of your head and Theresa spoke up.

"You're having a big baby, Y/N. It's going to be a lot of work, but you are prepared, you're doing amazing, and Jessie is here with you to help you every step of the way. You're making progress."

Jessie watched as your face fell and your rolled your head against her shoulder.

"Mmh, how did someone so small put such a big baby in me?" You complained. Jessie could do nothing other than apologize, but to her surprise you managed a feeble chuckle. "She's healthy. She has to be healthy." Your face fell again and Jessie saw emotions taking over.

"She's healthy, babe. You've done an amazing job of growing and caring for her. That's all you," Jessie told you. She was going to assure you further when your hand came up behind her head and you curled inward to start pushing again, pulling her with you as you grimaced and tried to move your baby down.

This time, your groan evolved into a strained yell.

"Incredible, Y/N. She's right there, I can start to see her. You are doing so great, momma," Theresa said.

Your eyes opened and you looked back at Jessie in wonder as soon as the contraction ended.

"Do you want me to still...," Jessie trailed off, uncertainty taking her as she tried to anticipate what you wanted. You'd talked during birthing classes about her being the one to deliver your baby - with the help of Theresa, of course - but if you needed her to hold you, that's exactly what she'd do.

"Yes, yes," you answered quickly as you shifted slightly, wordlessly indicating for her to move. Jessie carefully moved out from behind you, kissing your shoulder as she went and hurriedly propping up the pillows behind you to better support you. Theresa moved aside slightly, giving Jessie an affirming nod as she positioned herself between your spread legs.

She looked at your entrance, lips still closed and the head not yet visible between pushes.

"Here, make sure she's lubricated," Theresa said as she handed the oil over to Jessie. She took it silently and began to massage your lips and perineum with the oil to help your baby move down and reduce the risk of you tearing.

She was continuing to massage you until you sat forward once more and began pushing. Jessie held your leg and you reached forward gripping her shoulder and leaning on her as you grunted.

Her eyes grew wide as suddenly a small teardrop began to form at your entrance and the first glimpses of your baby together began to appear. A rush of elation and trepidation ran through her.

"S-she has hair," Jessie told you excitedly as she looked up at you. Despite your concentration and effort, you opened your eyes to look at her and a feeble smile crossed your face before you grimaced once more and continued pushing.

"Oh my God. Y/N - you're doing it - you're moving her down. I can see more of her. You're doing so amazing," Jessie praised, tears suddenly pricking at her eyes.

"Oh God," you panted, fingers digging painfully into Jessie's shoulder. "Oh fuck, it hurts, Jess. Oh my God," you said as your lips began to slowly bulge and stretch around the burgeoning head. Jessie gently braced your entrance in support at the instruction of Theresa.

"I know, baby, but you're doing so good," Jessie coached you and you fell back, collapsing against the pillows again during a brief reprieve from the rolling onslaught of contractions. She looked down between your legs to see the baby's head had retracted completely within your tunnel again.

"Jessie," you whimpered in exhaustion and frustration.

"I know, love," she said gently as she kissed your knee and then quickly dabbed your forehead with another cold compress again.

Almost as soon as the last contraction ended, a new one started and you leaned against Jessie's shoulder again as you bore down. She watched as the head reappeared, much quicker this time and soon stretching you wider and anew. She applied more oil to your lips and supported them as they pulled tightly around the head as it crowned.

"Oh it's burns!" You cried as your lips were stretched taut around the large head of your baby.

"You're so close, Y/N," Jessie tried to sooth you. "I can see so much of her."

This time, the head didn't retract as your contraction faded. The progress remained, but that also meant that the head was lodged at your entrance, stuck in a crown and stretching you unbelievably wide. Jessie was absolutely in awe of what your body was doing and achieving right now.

During birth class, many of the partners were squeamish and tentative, but Jessie was curious and attentive. She wanted to know what to expect so she could support you as unwaveringly as possible. She wanted to be ready for this moment so she could be present and be there for you in any way you needed.

And here you were, the woman she loved most in the world, the one she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. The moment was here - you were finally delivering your baby here in your bed, the same one she was conceived in all those months ago.

Jessie massaged your thighs as you groaned in pain, legs quivering.

"I-I can't," you panted as you gave a weak shake of your head.

"You can. You're doing so incredible. You are so, so strong. I know it's hard, but you are almost there, I promise," Jessie told you as she leaned up to give you a kiss on the forehead. Your hand shot up to cup the back of her neck and hold her there. She kissed you again. "I love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for bringing our baby into the world. You are the most incredible woman. I love you so, so much."

You grunted, leaning forward and curling into yourself in another push.

To Jessie's shock and amazement, she saw your lips stretching impossibly further, the skin now white and bloodless from the tension.

"It hurts so much," you cried helplessly. "It's burning so bad."

The stretching continued until you released a scream and the head popped out with a rush of fluid. You gasped, body jolting at the momentary reprieve.

"Oh my gosh," Jessie nearly cried, hand out supporting the head of her baby and seeing her for the first time. She reached out and grabbed your hand to bring it down to the head as well. You began whimpering, tears forming in your eyes as you felt her and looked at Jessie. "She's almost here."

"One or two more good pushes and your baby will be here," Theresa said with a smile.

When it was time, Jessie saw a new level of focus cross your face and you began to push. She held her hands out, guiding her baby as a slow yell filtered up your throat as the shoulders began to stretch your entrance out.

"You're almost there," she encouraged, ignoring the way your fingers dug painfully into her shoulder.

The shoulders appeared and with a final push, Jessie caught your baby in her hands, a scream coming from you and a gasp from her.

Suddenly, a new cry filled the room. Jessie's eyes were absolutely transfixed on this small, brand new being, wriggling and crying in her hands.

"Oh my God," she breathed as she stared at her daughter. She was here. Finally here. Something that started off as a wish so many months ago was now entirely real. A permanent, physical manifestation of the love you and her had for one another; a perfect mix of herself and you. 10 fingers, 10 toes, a cute little face and a head of dark wispy hair.

"She's here, baby," she said in awe, belatedly aware of the tears streaming down her face as she very gingerly lifted your daughter and oh so carefully laid her on your chest.

You sobbed as you took her and Jessie cuddled in with you both, eyes still not leaving your little girl.

"Oh my God, she's beautiful," you said as you gently caressed her cheek as her strong cries filled the room. "Riley Fleming - we love you so much."

Jessie felt like her heart could burst as she took in every little detail about your daughter. She gave the easiest smile of her life.

"She's absolutely perfect."

A/N: This is not the conclusion of the series; however we are very close. I have two more chapters for you.

[jifloulette]

kyotani kentaro pre bf and bf hcs because im in my kyotani brainrot era once again.. (ooc?)

note ; pls i love mad-dog kun so bad it's not funny anymore, i may have gone overboard because of how many i made.. this has been rotting in my notes app so this was DUE 💜

pre bf kyotani who you tried so hard to become friends with because you thought you could make him smile and laugh for the first time in his life, you thought you could change him from being a mad-dog to a cheery, joyful one !

pre bf kyotani who you ask to teach you how to play volleyball — starting with the simple terms like how to serve overhand, what a service ace is, how to block a spike, etcera etcera !

pre bf kyotani who blurts out that he's starting to really enjoy your presence around him. when you ask him why, he'll say it's because you were the first person to treat him nicely, to greet him with a smile and continue to interact with him despite his scary aura !

pre bf kyotani who realizes that you mean so much more to him, that you were becoming something that he regularly enjoys hanging around with !

pre bf kyotani who tries so hard to be romantic when he confesses, leaving a note in your locker asking you to meet him by the volleyball court and when you see him, his gaze goes from your figure to the ground while his face reddens !

pre bf kyotani who then says what he's been meaning to say the second he finds out he likes- no, he loves you. from complimenting your beautiful eyes to telling you how much he cherishes you and wishes you to be his !

pre bf kyotani who now becomes your boyfriend when you accept to his confession by kissing his lips quickly before running away, leaving him confused and lovestruck !

🩵💛

bf kyotani who is mean to everyone and everything except for you. he could and will get mad at his teammates, a random stray dog who keeps barking at him, hell, he even got mad at a random lamp post he had accidentally run into — sometimes, you have to stop him from attacking almost anything that gets in his way !

bf kyotani who now learns how to lower his guard and learns how to become gentle for you, his significant other. he doesn't want to accidentally lash out on the only person he adores so much !

bf kyotani who regularly gets questions from his teammates when you go to their practice and give him a kiss or two on the cheeks, asking him how he'd pull someone as sweet and bubbly as you !

bf kyotani who appreciates how you wait for him during volleyball practice, sitting down on the bleachers, doing your homework to pass by the time !

bf kyotani who will def give you a piggyback ride whenever you say your feet hurt due to how long you guys have been walking. acting all tough and strong but the second you kiss his neck once you're on his back, he melts immediately !

bf kyotani who will always go buy your favorite drink at the vending machine before he goes picks you up at your last class of the day so you guys can walk home together just so you can have enough energy to talk to him about your day. he'll never admit it but just hearing you ramble about whatever makes him fall in love with you more !

bf kyotani who will always snuggle up in your arms and sometimes cry whenever he loses a match, he trusts you as his s/o to know the words and actions to make him feel better !

bf kyotani who will hug you from behind and put his chin on top of your head whilst glaring at the person you were talking to which leads to that person excusing themselves because of the tall man's stares !

bf kyotani who will always split whatever he's eating in half and give the bigger piece to you, whenever you thank him, his face will pinken. and when you tease him for his flushed face, he'll playfully steal your half away from you. it's only when you pepper his face with kisses that kyotani will give it back to you !

bf kyotani who will absolutely soften up whenever he sees you playing with his dogs, he really appreciates you helping him take care of them !

bf kyotani whose bedside table is a spot dedicated to all sorts of trinkets you give to him — keychains, little plushies, even a picture of you two holding hands with a frame you decorated with all sorts of things !

bf kyotani who loves loves LOVES it when you cheer for him so loudly in his matches, he thinks of it as motivation to win. not for his team but for you, so you can be proud of him !

bf kyotani who you notice, is genuinely trying his best to be a good boyfriend, though he may be scary and imperfect, it doesn't stop him from trying his best to show you what a good lover is !

©🇯​​🇮​​🇫​​🇱​​🇴​​🇺​​🇱​​🇪​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​, do not steal, translate, or repost any of my writings anywhere else.

[mapiforpresident]

Hi, could you please do prompt 39 with Georgia Stanway?

Only a Little Competitive”

Georgia x reader

~~~

It was weird seeing her in that kit again.

You’d gotten so used to Georgia in red, Bayern red, all pressed and polished in the midfield beside you, doing that thing where she barely looks like she’s trying but somehow still controls the whole tempo. But today? White kit, England badge, the cocky little smirk she always got right before kickoff?

Yeah. It was a different kind of game.

You’d tried to act normal. Friendly, even. Smiled across the tunnel at her during line-up. She’d just winked. Of course she had.

And okay, maybe she did body-check you just a little harder than necessary in the first half. And maybe you returned the favor with a bit more edge than the ball actually required. But that was international football, wasn’t it?

You were professionals.

Professionals who just happened to be dating.

Professionals who had a tendency to flirt through fouls.

The game ended in a 1-1 draw, which felt fair but also annoying because she’d definitely talked a little too much during the second half, muttering sarcastic “good try”s under her breath every time you missed a pass. You would’ve smacked her with your water bottle if you didn’t kind of love it.

Later, when you finally got through press and cooldowns and the long walk back from the pitch, you texted her: Behind the south tunnel. Five minutes. Wear neutral colors. We don’t fraternize with the enemy.

You were already there waiting when she came around the corner, hoodie up, head down, doing a terrible job of pretending like she wasn’t thrilled to see you.

“You’re late,” you said, leaning casually against the wall.

“I literally sprinted here,” she said, already reaching for you.

“Didn’t look like it when you were jogging back on that corner,” you teased, looping your arms around her neck.

“Wow. Still salty,” she murmured, grinning.

You shrugged. “I got a yellow for fouling my girlfriend. You should be embarrassed.”

“You fouled me first.”

“You flopped.”

Georgia laughed, tugging you in closer until your foreheads touched. For a second, the whole stadium buzz just faded, the noise, the bright lights, the whole post-match adrenaline still running through your veins. Gone.

“I still can’t believe we were enemies,” you said quietly, tracing your finger along the collar of her hoodie.

She raised an eyebrow. “Enemies don’t kiss behind locker rooms.”

You smiled.

“No?”

She leaned in, brushing her nose against yours. “Nope. That’s more of a… ‘forbidden lovers’ thing.”

You laughed against her lips. “So dramatic.”

“Blame yourself. You’re the one meeting me in tunnels like we’re in a spy movie.”

You didn’t answer, just kissed her. Soft, slow, the kind of kiss that made you forget what country you were supposed to be loyal to for about fifteen seconds.

When you finally pulled back, her fingers still resting on your waist, she gave you that look again, the one that made your knees feel a weak.

“Go celebrate your draw with your actual teammates,” you murmured.

“Fine,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “But you owe me a rematch. At home.”

You smirked. “Only if I get to win.”

“Not a chance.”

And yeah, maybe you’d tackled her a little too hard today. And maybe you’d do it again in the next friendly. But as she walked away, tossing one last glance over her shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile.

Enemies don’t look at each other like that.

[wosospacegirl]

what was Y/Ns reaction to Kika’s injury?

Spain vs Portugal, warm-up friendly before the Euros.

Y/n is locked in, game face on, jaw clenched, jawline doing the most. She's been chirping at Kika all game in that low grumbly way, and Kika's been smiling at her like it's a sweetheart every time.

Y/n swears she wasn’t watching Kika every time the ball came near her. She swears.

Except she was.

Every single time. Watching her like she’s made of glass and joy and something only Y/n is allowed to look at that way.

And then it happens. Mid-run, Kika goes down. One of those weird, non-contact falls that immediately feels wrong.

Y/n is on the opposite side of the field, and it’s like time stops. Her fists clench, nails digging into her palm through her gloves. She’s just waiting.

Willing her to get back up.

But she doesn’t.

Alexia is on her side, watching the scene with a deeply concerned look on her face.

When you've been in football for a long time, you just know when an injury is bad.

And right now, it looked very bad.

There’s a crowd forming around her--Portuguese teammates bending over, calling for the physios, refs rushing over--and Y/N?

She’s already moving. Not walking. Not jogging. Trotting.

“Back off, number 14!” the ref yells, trying to intercept her. But Y/n’s got that 'try me' face on, jaw tight, brows low. She doesn’t even look at the ref.

“That’s my--” she almost says girlfriend, but she swallows it. “I just need to see her. One second. One.”

Nobody’s letting her through, and one of the Portuguese defenders--probably someone Kika grew up playing with--puts a hand on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Calma,” she said. “Let them check her.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Y/n snaps, and for a second, it looks like she might actually swing.

But then she sees Kika lift her hand to her face, wiping away tears, and her whole body softens instantly.

“Is she okay?” Y/n asks, voice suddenly so quiet you wouldn’t even think it’s her. "Why is nobody checking on her?!"

She doesn’t even care; she’s still in the Spain kit, standing in a crowd of rival players.

And then Kika’s being helped up slowly, but her face is pale, her knee already swelling.

One of her teammates whispers something, and Kika nods, tear-streaked but trying to be brave.

When their eyes finally meet, Kika gives Y/n a tiny smile--wobbly and brave, but still sweet.

And that’s it. Y/n bites down so hard on her lip that she nearly draws blood.

“I’m going with her,” she mutters, daring anyone to stop her. There were just five minutes of the game left, and they could put another player in her place.

The staff tries to shoo her off, but Kika just reaches for her without words.

Later, once the stadium noise fades and Kika’s sitting in the locker room, leg iced and heart heavy, Y/n crouches in front of her, still in full kit, still breathing a little too hard.

She felt weird, being in the Portuguese team locker room, but again...it didn't matter,

“You scared the shit out of me,” Y/n says, voice raw, resting her forehead gently against Kika’s knee. “Don’t do that again.”

“I’ll try, grumpy.”

Y/n doesn’t even correct her. Doesn’t scowl. Doesn’t say anything. She just closes her eyes and breathes her in. Then she hears it. A shaky little exhale.

The kind someone makes when they’re trying really hard not to cry. Y/n blinks, head lifting just slightly from Kika’s leg.

Kika’s lips are quirked in that same soft smile--but her eyes are wet.

“I won’t get to try again,” she murmurs, voice so quiet it could vanish into the hum of the vents, “for like… six months.”

And Y/n just stares at her. The ache in her chest is foreign. Panicky. Like her body doesn’t know how to carry the weight of Kika being the sad one.

“I’m sorry, amor”, Y/n says quickly, like it might undo the world. “ Kikinha. I’m sorry.”

Kika shrugs, small. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Y/n reaches up this time, hands carefully wrapping around Kika’s calf like she’s something breakable. “You looked so happy out there.”

“I was,” Kika says, and a single tear slips down her cheek.

Y/n doesn’t wipe it away. She doesn’t say a word.

She just lowers her head again, this time resting it sideways on Kika’s lap. Face turned toward her, forehead pressing gently against the edge of her thigh.

And she stays there. Knees to the ground. Not moving. Not speaking. Just breathing with her. Just hurting with her.

a/n: if this writing sounds silly, is probably because I'm trying to write in the present tense

[azzifuddfanpage]

Mixed Signals

Chapter 2

———-

Note: guys I’m so sorry… it’s for the plot I promise. Also pleaseeee give me feedback I beg.

wc: 2.6k ————

The rest of tryouts flew by seamlessly, nothing but long days filled with sore muscles, and constant drills that all blurred together until it all was instinct. 

Mornings felt earlier each time, with puffy faces, and bleary-eyed stretches, and nothing but a tired silence in the locker room. 

Afternoons were louder- filled with shouts of the girls voicing plays on the courts, sneakers screeching on the hardwood, and occasional echoes of laughter that lightened the mood. 

For the most part, Azzi tried to run in the background, she was there strictly to make the team, every rep, every set mattered. But every once and a while her eyes would drift toward the far corner of the gym, the corner where Paige bueckers always seemed to be. 

They hadn’t talked much after that first brief exchange. A passing comment here, a quiet “nice shot” there. But it was enough to keep Azzi’s heart just a little off rhythm. Enough to keep Paige hidden in the back of her mind. 

By the end of the week, the nerves had settled into something quieter. Not confidence, exactly. But something close.

Tryouts ended on a Friday. Their final session was lighter — full-court runs, some competitive drills, and a wrap-up talk from the coaches. They’d post the final roster tomorrow morning, and no one needed reminding.

Unfortunately, Caroline had hurt her ankle an hour into the last tryout and had to go to the trainer rather than continue practicing. 

So when it came time to board the bus back to the hotel, Azzi realized she would have to find a new bus buddy. 

As Azzi boarded the bus, she tried to push down the awkward anxiety she could feel building inside her. Walking through the aisle, most of the girls were clearly exhausted, leaning their heads against the windows or scrolling, barely awake, through their phones. 

Azzi didn’t even have the chance to make sure she was seated before the bus started moving. She wobbled, startled by the sudden movement and plopped down in the first empty seat she saw. 

“Hey.” The girl next to her said. 

“Fuck.” Azzi thought to herself as she turned her head knowing exactly who she was next to. 

Sure enough, she was now just inches away from Paige Bueckers. 

“Hi.” Azzi said, her cheeks slightly red as she took in the fact that even post workout Paige smelled magical, like fireside velvet or something soft and strong all at once. 

“You played clean today.” Paige said.

Azzi tracked Paige's eyes. “Thanks you too.” 

Paige nodded like that was enough. She pulled out a pack of gum from her hoodie pocket and held it out wordlessly.

Azzi blinked, then smiled a little and took a piece. “Appreciate it.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Azzi caught herself sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye at Paige’s hand resting near her thigh, at the tired scrunch in her eyebrows, the way her jaw flexed, she literally couldn’t help herself. 

Then all of a sudden Paige leaned back slightly and said, not looking at her, “Kinda wild that we’re gonna be teammates soon.”

Azzi didn’t expect the weird flutter in her chest at the mention of their future.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Hope I don’t mess up.” 

Paige’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “You won’t.”

Azzi chewed her gum, heart oddly loud in her ears, hoping that paige wouldn’t be able to hear it. She sat there, her mind racing, and after a few seconds, she took a breath and reached for her phone, thumb hovering before she turned slightly.

“Hey, um… you want my Snap? In case we end up on the same shooting schedule or something or like I dunno we are gonna be teammates and stuff.”

Paige looked at her for a second — unreadable, then soft.

“Yeah,” she said, reaching for her phone. “Good idea.”

They exchanged usernames quietly. No big moment. No loud spark.

But as the bus rolled through the fading light, Azzi leaned her head back against the seat and let herself smile — just a little.

The bus had gone quiet.

The engine hummed beneath them, and outside the windows, the world blurred past in nighttime blues. Most of the team was asleep, headphones in or heads resting against cool glass. But Azzi and Paige were still awake, tucked into their seats, legs stretched out and knees almost touching in the narrow aisle.

They’d been talking the whole ride — about the game, about music, about random high school drama they barely cared about but still found funny. Paige’s laugh was softer than Azzi expected. Less showy. Real.

At one point, their shoulders brushed, and neither of them moved.

Azzi looked over, just for a second, and caught Paige watching her.

“What?” Azzi asked, grinning.

Paige shrugged, smirking back. “Nothing. You’re just… different than I thought.”

Azzi raised a brow. “What am I weirder or something?” 

Paige shook her head laughing softly. “Nah your lowkey cooler.” 

Azzi felt color rush to her cheeks. She really didn’t know how to respond to that. The words hung in the air with an awkward but comfortable tension, both of them too tired to fake any real conversation. 

But then paige nudged her, “u ever get tired of people always expecting you to be the perfect one on the court. Like I know ur top of your class too so I feel like ur probably the only one who gets it.” 

Azzi felt her heart flutter knowing that Paige knew that about her, as if it was common knowledge but that didn’t matter. The fact that Paige connected with her like that made her feel seen. It made her heart feel warm and fuzzy. 

But Azzi just looked at her for a few seconds, kind of shocked by her pure honesty. 

“Yeah.” She said, “All the time.”

Paige nodded like she got it — really got it — and then leaned her head back against the seat. Her hand was still on the armrest, close to Azzi’s. Too close not to notice.

By the time they pulled up to the hotel, Paige was half-asleep, and Azzi had this quiet ache in her chest that she couldn’t name.

They didn’t talk again that night.

But the next morning at breakfast, Paige saved her seat without saying a word.

After that first bus ride, something changed between them.

Not dramatically — no grand gesture, no sudden click. But the air between Azzi and Paige felt warmer, lighter. They started sitting next to each other more often, at meals, on the bus, sometimes even in film sessions when they could get away with whispering about the plays that made no sense. 

Paige had this easy energy about her, one where she was always joking, always saying something under her breath that made Azzi laugh when she least expected it. But when she was around Azzi, she toned it down a little. Like she didn’t need to be the loudest in the room. Like she actually wanted to hear what Azzi had to say.

Azzi didn’t talk much in big groups, but Paige never made her feel like she had to. She just made space. Nudged her arm during drills. Tossed her the ball first during warm-ups. Sat next to her in the lobby when she looked like she needed a break.

And the funny thing was, they were total opposites — Paige was messy and unfiltered and loud when she was tired; Azzi was thoughtful and careful and held things close to her chest. But they clicked. Slowly, naturally. The kind of way that doesn’t need defining.

They weren’t best friends overnight. It was smaller than that, but somehow more meaningful.

Their first game with team USA was an exhibition match. It was one full of excitement and nerves. They had one by a landslide, and though Azzi didn’t play as well as she would have liked, she still put up solid numbers. 

Back on the bus, the energy was more muted, the girls all tired from a hard fought game. 

Paige flopped down on her seat next to Azzi with a dramatic sigh. 

Azzi peeked one eye open. “You good?”

“No,” Paige groaned. “I missed, like, four layups in warmups. I think my soul left my body somewhere in the first quarter.”

Azzi smirked. “You dropped 17 points and had six assists.”

Paige leaned her head against the seat and squinted her eyes, narrowing them at Azzi . “So you’re a stat stalker now huh?”

Azzi shrugged, trying to act casual. “I was on the court.”

“Still counts.” Paige grinned.

It was close to midnight when they finally got to the new hotel. 

“Alright, your names should be on a list in the lobby with your roommate and room number, please try to get some sleep we have an early day tomorrow.” One of the coaches said as they got off the bus. 

They made their way into the lobby, and scanned the list. 

Azzi felt her heart sink when she finally found her name on the list. 

Fudd and Bueckers room 208

“Cool, we're roommates.” Paige said with a smile as she shrugged her bag over her shoulder. 

Azzi could feel the excitement fluttering in the pit of her stomach as they made their way through the hotel to their room. 

Azzi yawned as she swiped the keycard and pushed open the hotel room door. Paige followed behind her, kicking off her slides the second they were inside.

“I call showering first,” Paige shouted , already grabbing her toiletries.

Azzi rolled her eyes, smiling as she flopped down onto her bed. Her body ached with the effects of their full court scrimmage. She glanced around the room that was faintly lit by the light seeping from under the bathroom door. 

When paige came out, her damp hair clung to her shoulders, an oversized USA t shirt hanging off her skinny frame, brushing her teeth while humming something that was probably Sza. Azzi couldn’t help but watch her every move, comfortable, effortless. 

Paige pointed the toothbrush at her. “You’re up.”

Azzi went through the motions of her night time routine quickly. By the time she made her way back into the bedroom, paige had already claimed one of the beds and was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, watching something on her phone. 

Azzi climbed into the bed next to her kinda curious at the familiar sound in the background. 

“What are you watching?”

“Highlights,” Paige said, tilting the screen toward her. “Yours.”

Azzi blinked. “You’re joking.”

Paige grinned. “You hit that one corner three off a skip pass with, like, zero hesitation. That was cold.”

Azzi felt her face grow warm. “It was instinct.”

“It was clutch,” Paige corrected.

They fell into a quiet rhythm after that — scrolling through social media, occasionally showing each other something dumb or ridiculous. Azzi’s laugh came easier with Paige. It always did.

At one point, paige looked over and said out of nowhere, “you’re really easy to talk to to be honest. Sometimes I feel like it’s easier being friends with people who don’t have expectations of you built up.” 

Azzi looked at her. Paiges face had a more serious expression, one she didn’t see much.

“Who says I don’t?” Azzi teased but was shut up by a pillow hitting her in the face. 

“Shut up and go to sleep big head.” Paige mocked as she leaned back into her pillow and snuggled up. 

Azzi did the same, a smile that was uncontrollable lingering on her face.

Azzi was still staring up at the ceiling long after Paige’s breathing slowed.

And she tried to ignore the way her chest fluttered — just a little — every time Paige exhaled nearby.

The next couple of days they spent time as a team preparing for each team they would face, and paige and Azzi’s friendship, chemistry, or whatever it was only grew. They were inseparable. 

They were the first ones to text each other after a scrimmage.

The ones who saved seats for each other without saying a word.

The ones who shared AirPods and playlists without ever asking if the other person would like it.

Sometimes Paige would say something that made Azzi look at her twice — something that sounded like a compliment but landed deeper than it should. Sometimes Azzi would catch Paige watching her during warm-ups, not in a weird way, but like she was memorizing her.

They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t have to.

They were just teammates. Friends.

In between games, the whole team had gathered in the hotel conference room the coaches used for film sessions — except this time, it wasn’t about plays or defensive rotations. One of the assistant coaches had set up a projector and let them watch a movie for team bonding. Half the girls were paying attention, the other half were whispering, eating snacks, or scrolling on their phones.

Azzi sat a couple seats down from Paige, pretending to focus on the screen but secretly tuned into the conversation happening behind her.

“That’s literally your type,” one of the girls whispered with a laugh.

“No it’s not,” another voice argued, mock defensive.

“Yes it is. Blonde, blue eyes, tall, lowkey dorky but could probably ruin your life.”

Azzi didn’t need to turn around to know who they were talking about. Her stomach twisted, slow and sharp.

“She’s hot though,” the girl added, quieter this time. “Like, stupid hot.”

Azzi didn’t even realize she’d stopped breathing until someone sat next to her — Paige.

“What are we watching again?” Paige asked, casually popping a Kit Kat into her mouth.

Azzi shook her head, forcing a small smile. “No idea.”

Later that night, after the movie, Azzi overheard it again — this time from the hallway outside the elevators. The same two girls laughing, one nudging the other.

“I told her you thought she was hot,” one of them said, giggling.

“You didn’t—”

“I did. She blushed.”

Azzi stepped into the elevator before they could see her face, heart thudding louder than it had any right to.

That week, Paige and the girl — Kennedy, a forward from Texas — started hanging out more. Small stuff at first. Sitting next to each other on the bench. Staying behind after team meals. Laughing a little too long at each other’s jokes. 

Eventually, someone posted a Boomerang of them goofing off in the hotel lobby — Kennedy in Paige’s hoodie, Paige with her arm slung lazily over Kennedy’s shoulder.

Azzi didn’t say anything.

Didn’t even bring it up to Caroline, even though she caught her watching Azzi’s reaction more than once.

And when someone joked “just date already” after a scrimmage and Paige didn’t deny it — just smiled and looked down at her shoes — Azzi felt something drop inside her.

All this time she hadn’t even known Paige was gay. This was the first she had heard of it. All the things they used to do, it wasn’t only hers and Paige's anymore. 

She couldn’t explain why it stung so much.

After all, Paige wasn’t hers.

Not really.

But it still felt like losing something she never got the chance to hold.

[idorelyss]

SORRY, I'M SO STUPID | S.LOHMANN¹²

summary: you're an idiot who lost the love of your life. somehow, you get her back.

contains: sydney lohmann x bayfcplayer.ᐟreader, exes to lovers, mentions of relationship insecurities, sorta messy timeline, mentions of concussion/injury, jealousy, jealous.ᐟreader, sydney got the patience of a saint, they're inlove your honor, some angst with fluff

word count: 6.0k

author note: first fic on this blog, hopefully you cool ppl in my phone like it. lil warning for the fic going from past tense to present tense alot, that's the point. i tried a slightly different writing style doing this so let's hope it eats. enough yapping, enjoy ❤️ p.s. this is a lyrics fic.

PLAYING THINGS I WISH YOU SAID BY SABRINA CARPENTER

baby, sorry, i left you in the dark. i always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car

you are really fucking stupid. at least, that's what you have been telling yourself for the past two months.

you're in your car, on your way to deyna's party. of course, san jose traffic is packed and going at snail speed, leaving you with time to think many thoughts. way too many thoughts.

thoughts that are mainly involving a pretty, german blonde who used to be yours at one point. she would still be yours right now if you didn't end things impulsively.

what did your parents say when you were a teenager about how social media is poison? you are slowly starting to agree because you let opinions circulating around social media and your insecurities end a good thing. now the one person you didn't want to hurt in this life is hurt and you're hurting alongside her.

you almost want to forget about her, but who could forget about sydney?

that's why when you change lanes to reach your exit on the highway, your hand automatically goes to the passenger seat to reach for a thigh that isn't there.

right. she's in germany, not here.

you're so fucking stupid.

baby, everything reminds me of you. nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks i'm fucking rude

being at practice reminds you so much of sydney. it makes sense, you both are professional players. so of course your day is riddled with memories of sydney.

arriving at the training facility reminds you of that time sydney told you she tripped coming into bayern's training building, and she was teased for days.

going through drills has you thinking about when sydney whined on the phone everyday about her legs and feet hurting after practice.

time in the gym, doing your cardio is not that different from the days where sydney and you would workout out together. getting a sweet treat right afterward.

so, by the time training is over, you are ready to get dressed quickly in the locker room and duck out to go drown in your self-pity and regret at home. it's too bad that even the locker room reminds you of sydney or the lack thereof.

“why are you changing so fast? trying to run away from those bad shots you made?” jen jokes, coming to sit by you at your cubby.

you look at her, your hands still occupied tying your shoe. “you cannot be talking after the amount of times you fell. your age catching up to you?” you say in a similar joking tone with a side of deadpan,

or so you thought as everyone looks at you like you're crazy.

“i was just playing around, chill,” jen says. her words confuse you and so does the reactions of your other teammates.

did your joke have venom that you were unaware of behind it? or did you say it more on the side of deadpan than joking?

all you know is that sydney would have laughed at that. she would be giggling so hard, her face would get all red. then she would have thrown an even better insult right back at you.

you really miss her.

when i saw you cry, i didn't handle it well. without you here, i don’t know what to do with myself.

your nights have been so boring ever since you broke up with sydney. the same routine: get home, shower, water the plants, eat dinner, and then spend an hour or two scrolling on social media trying to fight the urge to stalk sydney's page.

you had blocked the blonde back when you two first broke up. you remember how klara texted you about how that's “childish and just hurts you both more.” she's right, of course, but who's going to tell her that? not you. not after you made a whole big deal about moving on and focusing on your career.

moving on doesn't even seem right. that's for people who were heartbroken by chance, not on purpose. it's not for people who hurt themselves by ending something that was good and stable because they couldn't get out of their own head.

still, as you lay there and scroll, your entire being craves for what used to belong to it.

you desire sydney's warmth.

you miss sydney's scent.

you are hungry for sydney's kisses.

you need to be held down by the weight of her body on top of yours.

instead, you are being weighed down by the pain you inflicted upon her. haunted by the sight of tears filling up in her eyes the day you ended everything and walked away. the unanswered text messages she left you the following night after she got drunk. the single text that followed the morning after that,

those were mistakes. ignore them.

everything blares in your head like an alarm that never stops. a clock that is broken, but not because it doesn't sound off but because it continues to sound off even if you want it to stop. there is no snooze for your regret, not with the way your dreams are filled to the brim with thoughts of sydney, too.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

syd's barely affectionate with her.

they don't give off girlfriends vibes.

sydney is more cuddly with her friends than her own girlfriend.

wonder when they are going to break up.

it's not going to last.

you reread the comments that led to your self inflicted suffering in the first place. the noodles in front of you on the table have run cold and your appetite is halfway gone at this point anyways.

social media has never been a big part of how you move throughout the world. you love to doomscroll, and of course, you have your favorite creators across platforms. you know about different trends and internet slang. duh, you aren't thirty. but you never used to let social media dictate how you interact with people outside of it. social media is full of algorithms and echo-chambers made to take over people's thoughts. forcing them to stay on apps longer than needed to look for solutions for problems that have been caused by said apps.

that's always how you felt.

but even you fell into the trap of social media. early in your relationship with sydney, you were too in the honeymoon phase to think about looking at socials. too wrapped up in sydney. however, when you two calmed down into a just as in love but more controlled state, your mind started wandering.

wondering what people are saying about you two. do they find you two cute? couple goals? were there fanpages for your relationship?

other players who are in relationships often have these things, so why wouldn't you guys have those as well?

what you didn't expect to find was people overanalyzing the way sydney and you interacted in public. for people to wonder if you guys are even in love.

“they don't see me when i'm with you. they don't know how attached i am to you every second we are alone,” sydney said when you brought up your growing insecurity. she was smiling all sweet, sitting on top of you.

how could you not believe her with the way she's kissing the frown off your lips?

your insecurities still grew and grew and grew until they became a hill. a hill, you weren't able to climb over.

they don't know how sydney loves wearing your clothes around and outside of the house because she's obsessed with your smell. they don't know about all the nights she cuddled into your side, basically glued to your skin. they aren't there on the days you were in sydney's apartment, cooking and dancing with her. they don't see the way she is all over you when you two are alone.

yeah, she wasn't super affectionate in public but that's only because she got so shy every time you showed her any love.

fans online didn't know about any of that, but you wish they did. you wish you didn't put so much value into their opinions because you probably would still have sydney in your grasp right now if you didn't.

if only you came to sydney about this more. the german player would rush to do anything that would make you feel better, more secure. but no, you just couldn't because you were afraid she would be annoyed you kept bringing the topic up after she reassured you the first time.

sydney would have never done that and you knew that.

that wrongful thought was influenced by that stupid hill in your head that was built on tons and tons of mean comments. the weariness of long distance fueled the comments impact on your mind deeply. getting reassured over the phone wouldn't be as satisfying as in person, so you never brought up the topic again and everytime you were with sydney, you didn't want to ruin the moment so again you didn't say a word. all of this created a hamster wheel you couldn't get out of.

you get up from the table, throwing your noodles away. they are too cool to eat now, and reheated noodles do not sound appetizing.

slipping into bed, your mind thinks back to the past over and over again until it tires itself out enough that you drift off to sleep.

things like “darling, i hope you know it scared me to death. the night that your sister said you got into an accident.”

number that SHOULD be blocked

i'm so sorry about your injury

when i saw you go down, my heart fell to my ass

i hope you have good ppl around you to take care of you ❤️

contact changed to sydney

you

i do

thanks for texting

sydney

….

yk i'm here for you too, right?

ik we broke up and aren't supposed to talk but

i'm just rlly worried about you

your heart feels like it's beating at 100 miles per hour. first, sydney texts you then second, she's worried about your injury and third, she wants to fucking be there for you.

is this a dream? have your wishes to get her back finally come true?

you look at the text, pondering what to send back. an immediate yes would be too desperate, right? but you are desperate for her you think to yourself.

fuck it, just say yes.

right when you are about to text back, sydney beats you to it.

sydney

there's no pressure

i know we haven't talked in forever

how is she being so considerate when you're the one who broke her heart?

you

i want you

sydney

??

you

i mean i want you to be there for me

can we talk pls?

be friends or whatever you want

sydney

duh

i'm the one who offered

there go the other side of sydney that you know and love.

“and god, i, i'm watching everything that you do. i can't get your songs out of my head or your hair out of my room.”

sydney and you have been texting back and forth everyday since that day she texted you. anyone looking from outside the situation would said it's heading straight for disaster. exes texting regularly again? especially when one is still very much inlove with the other? a speeding train just waiting to crash.

to that, you would say they don't understand. there isn't no tension or lingering resentment or anger between sydney and you while yall talk. that truth surprises you considering the fact you basically dumped sydney four months ago. if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't want to see her ever again, but somehow sydney's heart is overflowing with so much love that she doesn't have room to hate you.

she checks up on your well-being pertaining to your head injury. the recovery so far has been slow, very slow. you aren't even in rehab yet, still stuck at home resting and sleeping throughout the day. thankfully, your parents flew to san jose to come take care of you.

when you aren't sleeping, then you are texting sydney. her check-ups on you have slowly turned into long conversations about her day. texting her almost makes you feel like you two never broke up, that you two are still dating.

when you can't talk to her or are unable to sleep, you keep up to date with bayern munich. if someone asked why you were watching them, you would say not only for sydney, but that would be a lie. just a little white lie, though. you're watching for klara, lea, and lena too.. but mostly for sydney.

seeing her in her element, all sweaty and passionate, makes your head feel a little less broken, so yes, you will continue to watch her matches without telling her.

and what you don't know is that sydney thinks of you every time her feet touch the pitch. how she goes even harder than normal to impress you just in case you are watching. she hopes you are watching her, she always has and always will. even right after you broke up with her and she had to push her feelings down to go put on a good performance for germany, she played so hard she was MVP of both friendlies. back then, sydney hoped you viewed her performances with envy. with deep regret for letting go of a woman like her. now she hopes you look at her in admiration when she plays well.

you also don't know that sydney never threw away any of the gifts you gave her during your relationship. she was supposed to throw everything away in a box like lea recommended, but she couldn't. she couldn't throw away all of the memories she had left of you in her home. she couldn't delete the pictures she had of you in her phone. she couldn't even block your number.

sydney hanged onto every single last string she had that was still connected to you. it's hard to let go after being dumped. she thought, no, she knew you were the love of life. her entire world came crashing down when you sat her down on the last day of you visiting her in germany, suddenly saying you believe you two should be over. that long distance isn't working out for you anymore.

she cried for a week after you left. klara had to come over and help her clean up her apartment after a week of just crying in bed.

after that, the blonde slowly tried to move on. she went out more, with and without her friends. posted more on instagram. pushed herself into drowning in work related to football. even all of that didn't help her forget about you. she couldn't. her soul still yearned for yours.

she watched your matches in secret, all of her attention focused on you. her heart rate would perk up whenever commentators said your name. she wasn't able to pull her attention away from her tv when the camera would do a close-up of you.

so obviously, the day you got injured, sydney knew. she saw the way you went down and didn't get back up. her blood was rushing to her head, her chest was hurting as she watched you get carried off. it nearly felt like she was the one injured with how her body was feeling.

could sydney be faulted for texting you? for worrying about you? klara would slap the phone out of her hand if she knew about this, but good thing klara wasn't in her apartment. going off straight adrenaline and concern, sydney sent that text that led to you being back in her life.

texting back and forth everyday has sydney dopamine hooked. you still have the same effect on her that you always have.

every time she texts you, her eyes glance around her room at the various things you left behind when you broke up with her.

the sweater you never asked for back.

the dragon stuffed animal she won for you at a carnival.

the brush you always used when you came over. she couldn't bring herself to use it after you left her, so it just sat on her vanity, taunting her for ages.

sydney told herself that when she texted you about your injury, you two would keep a certain level of distance. that you wouldn't become lovers again. that she was only checking up on you every day because you deserved people in your corner.

that last part is true, but her other motive is also there: she wants you back.

i saw you meet somebody, and i'm jealous as hell. that i can't even stomach loving someone else.

the texting between sydney and you have gone from texting to calling. a big leap, but you both admitted to liking calling more than anything else.

the calling is totally not an indication of falling back into a similar routine from before the break-up.

or maybe it is because you don't fall asleep on the phone with your friends, you don't text your friends good morning and good night, you don't send so many selfies of yourself to your friends. those are actions you always have done with sydney.

anyone could see that you two still like each other, obviously, but you are seemingly blind to it.

perhaps it's the regret, pity, and guilt for ruining a good thing for no reason that's keeping you ignorant of what's growing between you two once more.

that ignorance wouldn't last forever.

sydney and you have now been in contact again for five months, more than no-contact lasted. your recovery is coming along better than your doctors expected. your head doesn't feel heavy anymore and you can have the tv above sixty without your head feeling like it's going to explode. sydney was more happy about this progress than you were.

syd 🥺

just watch

in a few months you're going to be able to run and play again

you

my doctors said that's not happening so soon

syd 🥺

idcc

you're like half magical so you will recover soon

you

LMAOOO

half magical is insane

you're crazy

syd 🥺

crazy or optimistic?

you

both…

syd 🥺

WOW??

okay i see how it is

say this to my face

incoming call from syd 🥺

after you answer the call, sydney and you talk for three hours. bickering back and forth with a mix of talking about your days. of course, your day is the same as always. you slept, ate, crocheted a bit with your mother, and saw your doctor. meanwhile, sydney's was full of life per usual. she went grocery shopping, helped lea clean out her spare room, got some sweets from a bakery, and “saw the cutest dog while walking home” in her own words. hearing about her lively days makes you feel a bit better about your own days that are very simple and very boring nine times out of ten. there isn't much a person recovering from a concussion can do.

you could push away and ignore your feelings when you two were in just a bubble of you and sydney. nobody else is in the way, questioning if exes talking everyday was healthy. nobody wondering if all that contact would lead to something more.

that bubble is broken the day you see something that makes you feel sick.

it's a saturday, you're scrolling on instagram. sydney is busy at a gathering with some friends, leaving you to your own devices.

sorta already missing her, you go on her instagram to look at her posts. you had unblocked the moment you two started talking again. as you click on her story, you wish you still had her blocked.

your head feels like it's going to explode as you look at the photo: sydney is sitting on a couch, and some girl is on her lap, smiling way too hard.

what the hell was going on?

you almost type out a message to sydney before you get control of your emotions. it isn't your place to be jealous or hurt or annoyed. sydney and you aren't together anymore. you two are friends, only friends right now.

you feel sick as you swipe out of instagram. it's time for a nap before your head falls off of your body with the way it pounds.

seeing sydney with someone else is making you stop believing the lie that you two were platonic right now. you could never be friends with the woman you love.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

that instagram story sets off a series of events.

first, you slowly took a step back from talking to sydney. the step back was so slow that she didn't notice at first. honestly, you took two more months to not talk to her everyday because you were hooked on her messages. hooked on her jokes and selfies and laugh and cute rambles. still, you somehow did it. instead of talking everyday, you two talked three days a week and only for an hour. way less than you two used to do.

second, you started putting tons of work into your recovery. seeing a physical therapist and slowly incorporating small, easy exercises into your day helps you come closer to getting back on the pitch. the first day you step back onto the bay fc training facility grounds, your emotions are everywhere. you haven't seen your teammates as much as you use to when you were not injured and seeing them training while you were just visiting the physical therapist killed you. they were all happy to see you though, catching you up on everything that has been happening since you were away. your head injury has calmed down enough that you could sit outside and watch everyone else practice. all the shouting and sounds of bodies moving doesn't irritate your head thankfully. you follow this similar routine for a long while, even if you are slightly sad about not being able to play.

and finally, sydney confronts you about pushing her out of your life.

you're lying on your bed, having just came back from a day at the bay fc training facility. you and sydney haven't talked for a week straight, her apparently busy with her life over in germany and you making an active choice to talk to her less.

that's why when a notification from her comes up on your screen, you look away from your screen then back at it to see if this is happening right now. it's not the notification itself that makes you act like that, but the message,

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

why are you treating me like this again?

you

sydney

what are you talking about?

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

you're ignoring me

we barely talk anymore

what's gotten into you?

you try to think up an excuse. eventually landing on,

you

yk i'm busy with rehab and stuff

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

bullshit

stop lying to me

you

calm down syd

omg

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

don't tell me to calm down wtf

first you randomly break up with me for some stupid reason

“long distance isn't working” whatever that supposed to mean

i just know in my gut that's not why you left me

now we became close again and you're leaving me again?

why let me back in your life if you're going to do this to me

your head is starting to pound as blood rushes to your face. you always hated when sydney was angry with you and this time is no different. it's justified though. what you're doing is really cruel, pushing sydney away after becoming close with her again. you have hurt her once again.

you're so stupid.

in the process of trying to run from your feelings, trying to ignore the jealousy seeping from your psyche after seeing the photo of that random girl on her lap in that photo. lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that it's been ten minutes since you replied to her.

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

okay

do what you want

march 14th, 11:11pm, read

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

“i don't know how to say this.. but you deserve an explanation. you wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and i get it. i left you not once but twice. both times for stupid reasons that i should have communicated instead of going ghost. the day i broke up with you.. i cried the moment i got home. all i could think about for so long is how hurt you looked. that should have made me act, but it didn't, and i just regret everything. the first time i pushed you away, it's because i let the internet get to me. make me feel all insecure about us. i pushed you away a second time because i realized i couldn't stay platonic with you. i.. saw that insta story of yours. the one with that girl on your lap. i lost my mind because i thought i didn't have a chance with you ever again. i'm really sorry, so sorry. i miss you so much. call me back, please?”

voicemail left to sydney, april 23rd, 3:00am

sorry, i pulled the “it's not you. it's me.” one day, i'll make sure you get a real apology.

sydney

are you busy?

she texts you one day in july. you thought that she was fully done with you after not speaking for nearly two months, but thankfully she isn't. you can make this right.

you

no

incoming call from sydney

…

“hello?”

you haven't heard her voice in so long. it sounds just the same, all soft and pretty. a rush of fondness hits you.

“hi sydney,” you say, more like whisper, into the phone.

there's some shuffling on the other line before she speaks again. was she moving around on her bed? it's a nervous habit of hers to move during intense situations you think to yourself.

you push your thoughts to the side as sydney speaks, “.. i got your voicemail.”

you thought she deleted it with how long it has been since you had sent it.

“did you like it?” you say.

why the fuck did you say that?

instead of hanging up the phone in your face, sydney laughs. you have missed her laugh so much.

“i wouldn't be calling if i didn't.”

“oh right.. sorry.” you let out a laugh of your own at your stupidity. not just your stupidity from right now but all the times before, too.

then the moment you start laughing, that makes sydney start laughing again. creating a cycle of you laughing at her laughter, then her laughing at yours and again. laughing on the phone with your ex after not speaking for some months once again is actually insane, but it seems like that's just how sydney and you are: insane.

the two of you calm down soon enough. getting back to the serious conversation that needs to be had.

“you know it really hurt me when you stopped talking to me. i thought we were getting somewhere.. platonic or not. it hurts even more to know you still like me but pushed me away anyways. don't you want me?”

“of course i want you.”

“then why didn't you say anything?”

“....”

“that was a stupid question.. i listened to your voicemail. i know why.. i just want to hear it from your own mouth in real time.”

you sigh before going silent for a moment. sydney doesn't speak, she just waits.

“i just.. was so insecure the longer we were together. i know at the time you told me to ignore social media, but i couldn't. all of those people were saying we shouldn't be together and that you didn't want me. i couldn't take it. i felt like i was holding you back from someone better, so i left. then when we started talking again, i deluded myself into believing we were on our way to being just platonic but i can never be just friends with you. the night i saw that photo on your insta story, i didn't know what to do.. so i left again. i'm sorry.”

“.. i accept your apology, but i'm still hurt. i thought you trusted me enough to talk to me about anything?”

“i do.. i did.. i swear.”

“you don't act like it.”

“i'll be better if you let me. if you want me.”

“i want you, but you'll have to work for it. i'm not taking you back that easily.”

i waste my time, i waste my life on idiotic things. like things you never said. things you'll never say to me.

sydney and you start talking again after that call. things between you two move slow though, very slow. more slow than the first time you guys got together.

you know that sydney is waiting things out, trying to see if you would leave her again. she keeps a certain distance when you two speak a little too flirty. she shuts it down quickly every time, which hurts, but you get it. you have to earn that side of her again.

and you do just that.

it's in small ways than some grand gesture. you tell about everytime you watch one of her matches, mostly praising her but throwing in some critique as well. after your rehab sessions, you tell her about everything. all your feelings surrounding the sessions, how much you've been improving. everytime you feel jealousy at one of sydney's posts, you talk to her about it.

that distance between you two slowly closes. not only emotionally but physically.

the summer the year after sydney and you reconnected for the second time since the break-up, you find the time to fly to germany for her birthday.

you asked before coming, though, not wanting to mess up the new connection you two are building.

“syd, i got a question,” you say, phone propped up on the bathroom sink as you got ready for another day at training. you have progressed very far in your recovery, thankfully, and can now do some light training with the team.

“hmmmmm?” sydney murmurs. she's looking all cute on the other line, face pressed to her pillow as she lays in bed. her room is dark, with the only light coming from her phone screen.

there's some hesitation that crosses your mind, but you push it away. communication, remember?

“can i come see you?” you ask.

sydney sits up slightly after hearing your question. there's clear confusion on her face.

“what do you mean?”

“i want to fly to germany for your birthday.”

sydney goes silent for a long moment. your nerves peak, looking at your screen. was this too big of a step for her? does she need more time to be ready to see you in person?

her answer surprises you.

“okay,” she says.

you booked your flight to germany that night and next thing you know, you're there. unfortunately, sydney isn't the one who picks you up from the airport. lena takes over that job, but it's still fun to hangout with lena after so long.

you don't see sydney until the day of her birthday. she claims she's been busy and you believe her. she texts you all the time even if she doesn't come see you physically.

your mind runs wild as you get ready for sydney's birthday party. you're in lena’s bathroom, making sure your hair looks perfect and your makeup doesn't make you look clown-ish and that your fit actually fits you and maybe you should brush your teeth again-

“you know sydney doesn't hate you, right?” lena interrupts your anxious thoughts.

“duh i know. i wouldn't be here if she did,” you say, still staring intensely at your appearance through the mirror.

lena rolls her eyes. “then why are you getting ready like we're going to a pageant? sydney likes you in every way. she was really hurt when you guys broke up, but obviously, she's moved on from it if she invited you to come all the way here.”

lena's words make you slow down your overanalyzing of yourself. she's right, sydney is forgiving you right now. trying to overdo everything to seem perfect isn't going to make her like you any more. she already likes you alot.

she wants you, not some polished version.

“you're right. i'm finished, let's go,” you say, leaving the sink and coming by the doorframe to make lena turn around. the two of you leave the bathroom, then put on your shoes and finally leave her apartment.

the drive to sydney's party is a short one, or at least it feels that way. lena, and you sing along to the songs on the radio the entire way there.

once at sydney's place, your heart starts racing. being back in her space feels so strange, but so right. alot is the same, but alot is different aswell. she bought a new couch, an upgrade from her old leather one. there's more plants around the place. her tv is new and even bigger than her last one.

the apartment is basically full with all of the bayern munich team and some other people from sydney's life. the smell of pizza and chicken hits your nose as you walk from the living room, where you greet everyone, to the kitchen.

and there is sydney.

her back is turned as you walk into the kitchen, but you can tell it's her.

her hair is styled in a ponytail, and she's wearing this black tank top and nice fitting jeans. she looks so pretty. she looks even prettier when she turns around.

“y/n?” sydney looks at you like she wasn't expecting you. perhaps she wasn't fully prepared to see you in person? even though she knew you were coming to her party. she allowed you to, after all.

you smile at her, “hi syd. is it too soon to say i missed you?”

“is it too soon to hug you?” she smiles at you back.

“i would be stupid to say yes, and i'm done being stupid.”

sydney flies into your arms, embracing you tightly. her arms wrap around your neck, her cheek pressing against yours. her quick reaction would feel weird if it didn't feel so right. you hug her back just as tight. it's been so long since you've been in her arms. so long since you smelled her scent. so long since you've even been around her.

“thank you for coming,” sydney says as she pulls away. not going too far as she stands close to you.

you laugh, “i'm the one who asked you. i should be thanking you.”

“for what?”

“for letting me back into your life.”

sydney's and your reunion is cut short by laura coming into the kitchen. she gives you two a look but doesn't say anything about your closeness.

“syd, you better get in here. it's your birthday party,” laura says, pointing to the living room. sydney looks at laura before looking at you. without thinking, you grab her hand and pull her out into the living room. time to party.

you ended up staying for longer than you thought you would in germany. sydney allowed you to stay in her spare room for the rest of your time there. the two of you have many, many conversations about where you two stand currently. she's not your girlfriend just yet, but you two are getting there.

when it's time for you to leave for america, sydney drives you to the airport and even blessed you with a kiss on the lips as a goodbye. your face is permanently flushed until you board the flight.

she texts you the moment you get off the plane back in san jose as well.

syd 💕

land safely?

you

yupp

but i miss you :(

syd 💕

miss you too :((

we'll see eachother soon

don't worry

you

call you when i get home?

syd 💕

call me when you get home

author note: i might possibly be working on an alt verison of this with sydney's pov.. depends on if my brain feels like working. hope yall enjoyed! 🙂‍↕️

© JACKIESUNSHINES, 2025

[alotofpockets]

Is it broken? | Ona Batlle x Lioness!Reader

5k celebration prompt: "Is it broken?"

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

The first 45 minutes of playing against Spain had been intense. England vs Spain was always a match you looked forward to. Not only were you playing against your girlfriend and a bunch of your Barcelona teammates, Spain was an incredibly strong team and it always led to a good game.

Going into halftime with a 2-2 score and an equal attempt on goals, came with a motivating speech from Leah in the locker room. She spoke of the good parts you needed to continue with and on parts to look out for going into the second half.

When you walked back onto the pitch, you ran past your girlfriend, quickly patting her back on passing. You and Ona were both very professional, and competitive, but you would never back down from a small interaction between whistles.

The whistle for the start of the second half sounded and it was right back to the high pressure, intense game that you had been playing before the break. 

You already knew that your tracker would show one of the highest distances run during a game for you. One minute you were in your own eighteen yard box and the next you were in the opposition’s. 

Leah tried a long ball over the top your way. You were running with Ona right on your heels. The ball stayed high and the two of you were each trying to shield the other from getting to the ball. 

You jumped up to head the ball, and Ona did the same. You hit the ball, and she hit your face. Both of you fell to the ground grasping your heads.

The whistle was instantly blown, to check for head injuries. You sat up to check on Ona, but before you could look her way, you felt a warm liquid running down your face. 

You looked down to your jersey, the once blue fabric now covered in red. Before you can even register what had happened, one of the medics pressed some gause onto your nose. At the pain you felt throughout your whole face at that action, you finally realised what had happened. You didn’t even have to ask to know that you had broken your nose.

They weren’t going to let you continue to play, so they walked you to the sidelines. You wanted to know how Ona was doing, but they were still working on her as they walked you away.

When the medics helped Ona up, she seemed to be good to continue playing. She was looking around for you, wanting to check on you, but you weren’t there. Only spotting you when she was walked over to the sidelines herself.

A worried look plastered on her face as she saw the blood stained jersey and a red stained gause held to your nose. You send her a quick thumbs up to let her know you’re okay, before the medical team walks you into the tunnel.

They set your nose in the physio room, and handed you an ice pack. You watched the rest of the match from the bench. 

The final whistle blew just a minute after Spain scored the winning goal. Ona didn’t care about celebrating with her teammates though, she ran straight to the England bench. Straight to you.

"Are you okay?” Ona kneels down in front of you, her hands resting on your knees. “Yes, I’m alright.” Her hands move up to your cheeks to examine your nose. ”Are you sure? Is it broken?" You nod, “Yeah, you broke my nose.”

Ona’s eyes widened, “No, no, mi amore. I didn’t mean-” She stopped when she saw your smile grow. “Idiota.” She chuckled with a roll of her eyes. “I had to.” You said with a smirk. “But yeah, it’s broken.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck and brought you in for a hug. “I’m so sorry, mi amore.” You lean into her hug, craving the extra bit of comfort. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Once she was sure that you were okay, she sat down next to you on the Lionesses bench. “I think I’ll have to take some time off when we get back home.” You look at her confused. “Why is that?”

“Because, I am never going to hear the end of breaking my girlfriend’s nose.” You chuckled. “Yeah, probably not. But at least you won’t be the one playing with one of those horrible masks.” 

“Hm, I don’t know, you look beautiful in everything.” You laugh and shake your head. “If you compliment my look while I am wearing that stupid mask, I will make sure you will actually never hear the end of how you broke my nose. You hear me, Batlle?” She chuckled, “Noted.”

The two of you joined the rest of the players on the pitch. The atmosphere in the stadium was still electric from the final whistle. The Spanish fans were celebrating the win, but the English fans were just as loud. Proudly supporting the team with their cheers and chants.

Despite the loss, you couldn’t help but smile as Ona was being pulled into her team’s celebratory huddle. Her eyes darted to you, her way of apologising that she was celebrating against you. You smile her way and nod your head, letting her know that it was okay.

You walked up to Alessia and Ella yourself. “How’s the nose?” Ella asks after you remove the ice pack for a moment. “Still attached, barely.” You joked. 

“Why are you both so dramatic?” Alessia asked with a shake of her head. “First Tooney with her finger, and now you with your nose.” You and Ella share a look before each raising your shoulders. “What’s the fun without a little drama?” Ella smirks.

Ona keeps looking back at you. And at the way she kept looking back at her teammates annoyed, you knew she was already getting teased by her team. You smiled knowing that while you might be the one in pain, she was getting the worst from it from your teammates.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER THREE ━━ Falling out of Focus

☆ ━ pairing: hopkins!paige x oc (dani callan)

☆ ━ word count: 4.5K

☆ ━ warnings: use of homophobic slur, underage drinking, smoking i think, tiny fist fight lol, more angst

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, take me to church masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: so sorry i did not proof read this and it’s so dialogue heavy but here it is anyways and drama period

IF NOTHING can comfort Paige Bueckers, it’s usually a basketball court that she needs. It’s the place where she’s found solace nearly her whole life, at this point. The steady rhythm of the dribbling, the weight of the ball in her hands, the way her body moves practically on instinct with it now—all of it is usually enough to drown out the noise of the world. Apparently, not today. She feels like she’s playing in someone else’s body, like everything with her game is off. None of her shots fall, she turns the ball more than she assists, and, when, she shoots once more and the ball hits the rim, bouncing off again, she feels like she’s going to lose it.

Coach Cosgriff seems to feel the same way. “Paige! Come on!” his voice cuts, sharp and direct. Paige blinks, shaking her head a little to clear it, before getting back into the drill.

“Sorry, Coach,” she mumbles, forcing her feet to move. But it’s almost like neither her heart or head are in. The ball feels heavy, unwieldy, like it isn’t made for her hands anymore. She passes it to Taylor, who shoots her a worried look before continuing the play.

Paige can feel the eyes of her teammates on her, each glance a tiny needle pricking her skin. Normally, she’d thrive under the attention, but today, it’s suffocating. She feels like she’s spiraling, and she has no idea how to stop it. It isn’t just about basketball; it’s about fucking everything.

“Let’s run it again!” Coach calls, and Paige tries to push all thoughts that aren’t basketball out of her mind. But the harder she tries, the more insistent her brain becomes.

They run through the drill again, and—again—Paige finds herself a step behind. She’s supposed to cut to the basket, but her feet move too slowly, like they’re stuck in mud. Amaya passes her the ball, but Paige isn’t ready, and it slips through her fingers, skidding across the floor.

“Damnit,” Paige curses under her breath, running after it. She can feel her teammates’ frustration, their confusion, and she hates herself for being the cause of it.

“Paige, you good?” Maya asks as they pause for a water break. She’s careful not to sound accusatory, but Paige can hear the concern in her voice. “You’re not yourself today.”

“I’m fine,” Paige snaps, harsher than she intended. Maya blinks, taken aback, and Paige immediately feels guilty. “I’m just… off. It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” KK chimes in, wiping sweat from her forehead. “You can talk to us, you know.”

Paige forces a smile, but it feels all wrong on her face. “I’m good. Just needa get my head straight.”

The words feel empty even as she says them. How can she explain to her teammates without sounding pathetic and stupid that she’s acting this way over a girl? Obviously, it’s not just any girl—it’s Dani. But still. A girl is getting in the way of Paige and basketball and it’s frustrating her so fucking much. She hates it. She hates all of it. She hates that every time she closes her eyes, all she sees is Dani slipping further away from her, replaced by Beau Hudson’s smug, indifferent face?

“Alright, everyone, bring it in,” Coach Cosgriff calls, ending the break. “Let’s focus up and finish strong.”

Paige nods, but her focus is long gone. The rest of practice is a blur of missed shots, half-hearted passes, and growing frustration. When it finally ends, Paige doesn’t stick around to talk to anyone. She grabs her bag, mumbling something about having to study, and heads straight for the locker room.

In the quiet of the locker room, Paige finally allows herself to collapse on the bench. She buries her face in her hands, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. She refuses to let them fall. Crying won’t change anything; it won’t bring Dani back to her, and it sure as hell won’t fix the gaping hole that seems to be growing in her chest.

Paige decides she needs a distraction. Something, anything, to take her mind off Dani, off the way everything’s falling apart.

—SO, a few days later, when Jalen texts Paige about a party, she doesn’t hesitate. She needs noise, people, a chance to drown out the thoughts that have cut off all her access to oxygen.

Paige can feel the bass of the music vibrating through the floorboards the moment she enters the house. The air is thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the faint tang of weed lingering in the background. The place is packed—people spilling out into the backyard, others dancing in the living room, and even more just milling about with red solo cups in hand. It’s exactly what Paige needs—or, at least that’s what she tells herself.

Jalen and Thaliah walk in beside her, ready for a much-needed night out. Jalen has a grin plastered across his face, greeting people as they walk in, while Thaliah is more laid-back, scanning the crowd for familiar faces as she takes a hit from the pen in her hand. Paige, on the other hand, feels almost like she’s moving through fog—like the world is a few seconds behind her. But that’s the point of tonight, anyways. To blur the edges. To numb the ache that’s been gnawing at her ever since Dani pushed her away.

“Yo, you good, P?” Jalen’s voice cuts through her thoughts, his hand landing on her shoulder as they push their way toward the kitchen. He gives her a once-over, expression tinged with concern. “You don’t look like you’re feelin’ this.”

Paige forces a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “‘M fine,” she lies, grabbing a solo cup from the counter. “Just need a drink.”

Thaliah, pen still in hand, raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything, though there’s a look exchanged between her and Jalen. Paige ignores it. She isn’t in the mood for questions, for concern. She just wants to forget. Wants to drown out the constant loop of thoughts running through her head—Dani with Beau, Dani avoiding her, Dani blocking her out. It all swirls in her chest, a storm she hasn’t been able to control for weeks now.

With that thought, Paige downs her first drink in one long gulp, barely wincing at the sharp taste of Vodka and God-knows-what mixed into it. The burn isn’t enough. She needs more.

Within the next hour, Paige makes her way through three more cups of whatever mix of alcohol they’re serving, the edge of her thoughts blurring with each one, head starting to swim pleasantly, the fog that she’s been chasing slowly starting to catch up to her. Jalen and Thaliah drink too, but not with the same reckless abandon. Even they have their limits, knowing when to pace themselves.

But Paige? She doesn’t quite care about limits tonight.

“Bro, slow down,” Thaliah says, eyeing Paige warily as she reaches for yet another cup. “We’re supposed to be having fun, not getting wasted in the first hour.”

Paige rolls her eyes, ignoring the warning. “I am having fun,” she shoots back, though even to her own ears, her voice sounds a little too sharp, a little too defensive. She takes another long sip from the cup, the world around her beginning to tilt slightly. It’s like floating—like nothing can touch her, and that’s exactly what she wants. No feelings. No thoughts. Just nothing.

Jalen watches her, his buzzed and carefree smile faltering as he nudges Thaliah. “Hey, maybe we should—”

“I’m fine!” Paige cuts in, louder than she means to. Her hand tightens around the cup as she glances at them both, the alcohol making her words slur slightly. “I’m fine, okay? I don’t need a babysitter. God.”

She turns away from them, her eyes scanning the room for something—anything—else to keep her occupied. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to think. She just wants to not feel for a while.

She spots a group of people in the corner of the room, most of them looking just as drunk as she feels. Without another word to her best friends, Paige drifts toward the group, her steps a little uneven as the alcohol works its way through her system.

Jalen watches her go, his eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he turns back to his conversation. “She’ll be fine,” he mumbles, though there’s a slight hesitation in his voice. He glances at Thaliah, who shrugs, clearly tipsy herself but sharing the same concern. Nevertheless, neither of them are quite in the best shape to intervene. Besides, they both know Paige well enough to understand that trying to stop her won’t do any good.

Paige finds herself wedged between two guys she barely knows, both of them laughing loudly about something she isn’t even listening to. It doesn’t matter. She’s laughing too, caught up in the haze of drunkenness, the weight of everything she’s been carrying slipping off her shoulders for just a moment.

“Yo, you good?” one of the guys asks, his words slurred and slow as he nudges her with his elbow. “You look like you’re having a real good time.”

Paige grins, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through her chest. “Yeah, I’m good. Real good.”

He sends her a matching grin in return before handing her another drink—something dark and strong—and, without thinking twice, she takes a long sip, the liquid burning as it goes down. She doesn’t care. All she wants is to keep the buzz going, to keep drowning out the thoughts that keep creeping back whenever she slows down.

Dani. Always fucking Dani.

Paige shakes her head, like she can physically push the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about her. Not about the way she’s pulled away, not about the way she’s acting like Paige doesn’t even exist, not about the way she’s with Beau now. Paige doesn’t want to think about any of it.

“Paige, what are you doing?” Thaliah’s voice breaks through the noise, and Paige blinks, realizing she’s wandered away from the group she was with, ending up near the back patio. Thaliah stands in the doorway, her arms crossed, a slightly exasperated but still concerned look on her face.

“Getting another drink,” Paige slurs, waving her empty cup like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Thaliah steps closer, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe you should chill for a minute. You’ve had, like, five already.”

Paige rolls her eyes again, turning away from her friend. “I’m fine, Thal. Seriously.”

Thaliah hesitates, glancing back over her shoulder toward Jalen, who’s still talking to a couple of people near the couch. She isn’t entirely sober herself, and her judgment is definitely a little clouded, but even she can see Paige practically spiraling.

“Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?” Thaliah affirms, her voice softer now.

“I won’t,” Paige mumbles, though she isn’t sure she means it.

Thaliah stares at her for a moment longer before sighing and heading back inside. Paige doesn’t look back. She wanders farther into the backyard, her footsteps a little less steady now. She finds a group of people near the fire pit, most of them drunk and talking over each other. She sits down on the edge of the bench, barely listening to their conversation as she takes another drink from the communal cooler.

Zoning out, she stares at the flames in the fire pit, the flickering light casting shadows on her face. It crackles, and she watches, the embers highlighting the dark air around her. Everything is a bit softer at the edges now, almost dreamlike, until something—or, rather someone—catches her eye.

A brunette girl sits down next to Paige, her face half-illuminated by the fire before them. She has softer features and warm eyes, as well as brown hair that falls around her shoulders in waves, light highlights coating it. Her cheeks are red with the unmistakable flush of alcohol. She glances at Paige, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of her lips. There’s something familiar about the girl, a feeling that tugs at Paige’s drunken mind. It takes her a second to place, but when she realizes why, her heart stumbles a bit: this girl reminds Paige of Dani.

The blonde blinks, her gaze instinctively drawn to the girl’s lips, her head swimming a little more than before.

“Hey,” the brunette slurs a little, her voice laced with the same inebriated giddiness that Paige feels. “I’m Delaney.”

“Delaney?” Paige echoes, feeling like she misheard for a second. She blinks again, her heart doing an unsteady flip at how similar the names Delaney and Dani sound to her. It throws her off for a moment, but not in the way she expects. Maybe it’s because she’s wasted, maybe it’s the loneliness she’s been burying, or maybe it’s just how much she misses her best friend. But somehow, Delaney seems all the more appealing to Paige because of it.

“Yeah,” Delaney giggles, leaning closer, her shoulder brushing against the blonde’s. “And you’re Paige Bueckers.”

Paige feels a smirk creep onto her lips. “You know who I am?” she asks, voice dipping lower, ego inflating slightly. She leans in a little, enough so the sides of their legs touch.

The blonde watches as Delaney’s gaze trails across her face and over her lips. “Everyone knows who you are,” the brunette murmurs. She pauses for a moment, her drunk smile widening slightly. “You’re hot.”

The heat rises in Paige’s chest at that, and she grins back, asking, “Oh, am I?”

Delaney rolls her eyes a little and Paige laughs. The air feels smaller now, like it’s just the two of them, cocooned in the haze of alcohol and tension. Delaney’s eyes sparkle as she stares at Paige, and without much more thought, they fall into a flirty back-and-forth, words blending into giggles and gentle touches that feel a little too familiar.

The brunette rests her hand on Paige’s knee, her fingers slowly trailing upward, and Paige doesn’t stop her. It’s easy. Too easy. Paige leans forward, her breath catching in her throat as their faces hover inches apart.

“You really are pretty,” Paige whispers, her eyes drifting to Delaney’s lips.

And before she knew it, the space between them disappears their lips crash together, the kiss hot and sloppy and fueled by too much alcohol. Paige kisses Delaney harder, trying to drown out the ache that’s been gnawing at her all summer—the same ache that Dani left behind when she cut Paige out of her life.

For a moment, it’s enough. Paige loses herself in the kiss, her hands sliding to Delaney’s waist, pulling her closer. Delaney’s hand is on Paige’s thigh again, this time higher, but the basketball player doesn’t stop her. The brunette tastes like cheap beer and something sweet, and Paige kisses her like it’s an escape.

But then, the sensation of being watched creeps up on her, sending a shiver down her spine. Paige pulls back a little, her breathing uneven and her lips swollen as her eyes darted around. She scans the yard and the back-end of the house, the shadows of people milling about. And then her gaze locks onto someone standing just by the back door.

Her stomach drops.

Dani.

Paige’s breath hitches as she stares at her. Dani’s watching her, her eyes dark and unreadable, arms crossed over her chest. Paige freezes, her heart pounding in her ears as she takes in the sight of her former best friend, looking so effortlessly gorgeous. She’s wearing jeans that fit her perfectly and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination and as soon as Paige’s eyes set on her, a familiar fire alights in her chest.

As soon as Dani realizes Paige has seen her, she looks away, turning her head and beginning to walk away from the back door as if she wasn’t watching at all. But Paige saw it. The tension in Dani’s jaw, the flicker of something in her eyes.

And suddenly, it’s like Paige is struck by lightning, jolted back into reality. What the hell is she doing?

“Shit,” Paige mutters, pushing herself away from Delaney, her heart racing. Delaney blinks in confusion, still dazed and flushed from the kiss.

“Wait—where are you going?” Delaney asks, her hand reaching for Paige’s arm.

“I—uh—I’ve gotta go,” Paige stammers, barely sparing her another glance before she’s up on her feet, leaving Delaney sitting there on the couch, confused and drunk. Paige barely feels a pang of guilt as she hurries toward Dani, the alcohol still swirling in her system, making her steps unsteady.

Paige stumbles inside the house, weaving her way through the crowd until she catches up to the Callan girl. She reaches out, grabbing Dani’s arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Dani, wait—” Paige’s words come out more frantic than she intends, her grip on Dani’s arm loosening when Dani turns to face her. Paige’s heart hammers in her chest as she struggles to form coherent thoughts. “I—I don’t know what’s going on, but can we just—”

Dani jerks her arm out of Paige’s grip, her face stony. “What do you want, Paige?”

“I don’t know!” Paige’s voice cracks, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t know, okay? I saw you staring at me, and then you—why were you even watching me with her?”

Dani’s expression remains cold, but Paige sees the way her fingers twitch at her sides. “I wasn’t watching.”

“That’s bullshit, Dani!” Paige’s voice raises an octave, her fists clenching as she fights to keep herself at bay. “You were staring at me. And her. Why?”

“No, I wasn’t!” Dani denies again, her voice sharp and biting. “It’s none of my business what—or who—you do at a party.”

Paige’s chest tightens at the bitterness in Dani’s words. She feels the sting of them like a slap to the face. “If you don’t care, then why are you acting like this? Why are you even here?”

“I’m here with Beau,” Dani says, her voice firm. “And I don’t care what you do. So, why don’t you go on back to making out with random girls, yeah?”

Paige’s breath catches in her throat, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “God, you’re so full of shit,” she mutters, shaking her head. “You act like you don’t care, but you do. I know you do. Why can’t you just admit it, for fucks’ sake?”

They stare at each for a long moment, face-to-face in silence, anger and something else surrounding the air between them. But before either of them can say anything more, Beau appeared out of nowhere, stepping between them.

“Is there a problem here?” Beau asked, his eyes narrowing at Paige, his tone casual but the tension in his stance clear. He steps in front of Dani like a shield, glaring at Paige.

The blonde rolls her eyes at him, her frustration doubling. “No,” she snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just having a conversation.”

Beau scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest. “Doesn’t look like much of a conversation to me. Looks like you’re harassing my girlfriend, Bueckers.”

Paige’s stomach churns at the word, the jealousy like a punch to the gut. It’s not unfamiliar at this point, but it still gives Paige the same effect. “Can’t you just fuck off?” she retorts with venom. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“I’m her boyfriend, so, yeah, I think it does,” Beau argues, stepping closer to Paige, trying to intimidate her. But Paige isn’t scared of him, even in her drunken state. He may be more muscular—the football kind of body type—but she’s taller, a couple of inches on him, and she meets his challenge with a steady glare.

“I don’t give a shit what you think,” Paige bites out, stepping closer herself, their faces inches apart now. “But Dani and I? We have history. And you—” she jabs her finger into his chest, “are just a replacement.”

Beau’s face twists in anger, his hands balling into fists. “Watch your mouth, Bueckers.”

“Or what—” the blonde begins, but before she can get her words out completely, two figures are by her side, hands pulling her away slightly.

“Paige,” Thaliah mutters, trying to tug at her arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Jalen stands there too, shaking his head. “Yep, come on,” he says. And then he lets his gaze shift between Beau and Dani, glaring at the pair. “Neither of them are worth it.”

Paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes still locked on Dani’s, searching for anything that would tell her this isn’t over. But Dani won’t even look at her. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, her whole body tense.

And so, Paige id about to turn around, to let Thaliah and Jalen pull her away, when she hears Beau’s voice again.

“It’s good you and her aren’t friends anymore,” Beau says loudly, looking directly at Dani. His next words are sharp and venomous. “Don’t want a dyke like her corrupting you.”

The world seems to freeze.

Paige’s heart stops. The word dyke echoes in her ears, and the blood drains from her face. She can feel the heat rising in her chest, the anger boiling over like a volcano about to erupt.

Even Dani’s head snaps up, her eyes wide with shock. But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t defend Paige.

Without thinking, without even hesitating for a second, Paige turns and lunges at Beau, her fists flying before anyone can react.

Her first punch lands squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling back. She feels pain erupt across her knuckles, and she shakes her hand for a moment. The shock on his face is almost satisfying—almost. But Paige doesn’t stop there. She she shoves him backwards now, hands at his chest, and he stumbles slightly.

“You fucking—” Beau starts, but he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Thaliah and Jalen are on her in an instant, pulling Paige back with more force now. Thaliah’s voice is almost panicked, trying to calm her down as Jalen stands between her and Beau, his hands outstretched like a human barrier. He glares at the Hudson boy, saying firmly, “Back the fuck up.”

“Paige, come on, it’s not worth it!” Thaliah’s practically shouting now, her grip on Paige’s arm tight.

“Let go of me!” Paige yells, her voice cracking with fury. She struggles against their hold, her eyes locked on Beau, who stands there, looking more shocked than anything. But there’s no fear in his eyes—only smugness, actually.

Beau wipes his mouth, glancing at the blood on his hand where her punch landed. He sneers. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Can’t handle the truth, can you?”

Paige’s vision blurs with anger, and she tries to lunge at him again, but Thaliah and Jalen hold her back.

Dani, who’s been frozen this whole time, finally speaks up. “Beau, just stop.”

Beau’s glances down at Dani, almost grinning. He clearly is enjoying the chaos he’s caused. “I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking, babe.”

Paige is done. She’s fucking done.

“Fuck you,” she spits at Beau, staring at him from behind Jalen. He just smirks back. And then she turns her attention to Dani, adding, “And, fuck you, too. You’re such a fucking coward, Dani.”

Paige rips her arm from Thaliah’s grasp, turning from the group and walking straight out of the house, wanting nothing more than to just go home.

THE DAYS that follow are a blur of basketball practices, classes, and restless nights. Paige tries to focus, tries to lose herself in the familiar routine, but nothing feels right. Every time she steps onto the court, her movements feel sluggish, disconnected. She’s there, but she isn’t really present. Her mind is elsewhere, stuck in a loop of memories and worries that she can’t escape.

Coach Cosgriff notices, of course. It would be impossible not to. Paige has always been the one to set the pace, to push herself and her teammates to be better. But now, she’s lagging behind, missing cues, and snapping at anyone who tries to point it out.

“Paige, my office. Now,” Coach says one afternoon after a particularly grueling practice.

Paige knows what’s coming, but she follows him without protest, dragging her feet as she walks. The other girls exchange glances but don’t say anything. They know better than to try to talk to her when she’s in one of these moods.

Coach’s office is small, cramped with old trophies and posters of past teams. He sits behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he gestures for Paige to sit down before him.

“What’s going on with you, Paige?” he asks, leaning forward, his tone soft but firm. “This isn’t like you. You’ve been off for weeks now. Is it school? Family? Whatever it is, you need to get it sorted, because it’s affecting your game.”

Paige looks down at her hands, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s… complicated,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Coach sighs, running a hand over his face. “Life is complicated, Paige. But you need to find a way to deal with it. You’re the leader of this team, and if you’re not focused, the others won’t be either.“

“I know,” Paige replies, her throat tight. “I’m sorry, Coach. I’m just… going through something right now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Coach offers, surprising Paige. He isn’t usually the type to get involved in his players’ personal lives, but Paige guesses he’s worried about how much this is affecting her performance.

Paige shakes her head, though. She couldn’t talk about it, not without breaking down, and she couldn’t afford to do that. Besides, it would be more embarrassing than anything to have to explain how much losing someone—that’s technically still there—has affected her. “No, I’ll be fine. I just need some time.”

Coach watches her for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. But you need to get your head back in the game, Paige. I can’t have you on the court if you’re not all there. Understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” Paige responds quickly, feeling the weight of his words settle on her shoulders.

“Take tonight off,” Coach says, surprising her again. “Clear your head, do whatever you need to do. But when you come back tomorrow, I need the Paige Bueckers I know back on that court. The season starts in less than a month, Paige.”

Paige nods, standing up to leave. “I’ll do my best, Coach.”

As she’s about to walk out the door, Coach Cosgriff stops her, saying, “Wait.” She turns, eyes curious as she meets his gaze, wondering what else he has to say. He offers a small smile, telling her, “I went through a tough time when I was your age, too. It’s difficult to be a teenager. But the best advice I was ever given is that whatever problem you’ve got going on—you gotta either drop it, forget it, and move on, or you fix it. I know it’s easier said than done, but it’s true.”

Paige lets the words sink in.

Drop it, forget it, move on.

Or fix it.

Fuck, she doesn’t know.

[sweetbans29]

Power Couple - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Life during Caitlin and your rookie season - Based on THIS request

Warnings: None that I can think of :) just some fluff for ya

Word Count: 4.8k

Power Couple Part 2

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I don't know much about soccer but I tried my best! I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think 🤍

The first time Caitlin knew you were something special was in high school. The two of you faced off on the soccer field during a game. This was when Caitlin still played soccer and was figuring out if she wanted to pursue soccer in college or basketball. She ended up going with the latter and was thankful for it because you were a force to be reckoned with.

You had nearly a perfect game. Your team came out on top but no thanks to a certain player on the other team. When the game was over and your team was going around saying 'good game' to the other team you pulled no.23 in.

"You almost gave me a run for my money, keep it up babe," you say as you bring her into a half hug so you can whisper it in her ear. You give her hip a little pinch before shaking hands with her coaches.

Caitlin is left speechless. She goes back into the locker room - star-struck and a little confused. She has never really been interested in anyone and has never really had the time to date but you had her wanting more. That night, she did some IG stalking and found you. She spent the whole evening looking through your page and all your tags. She went through all your teammate's photos and even searched you as a tag. She fell asleep contemplating if she was going to follow you. It seemed silly that she was nervous to press a button.

She dreamt of you that night. Had a dream that the two of you played D1 soccer in college together and were the 'it' couple of school (not like that is really a thing in college but a girl can dream). When she woke up in the morning she looked at her phone to see what time it was. She shot up when she saw the notification that you had followed her. She couldn't believe a single notification had her feeling like a little school girl but there she was.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw that Caitlin had requested to follow you back.

From there - she was the one to message you first, talking about how amazing you had played and how impressed she was. You were hardcore flattered. The two of you didn't talk much after but you both followed each other in your respective sports. You learned that Caitlin dropped soccer for basketball which you thought was a shame - she could have easily gone D1. But watching her on the court was something else. Her IQ on the court was something you had never seen before.

It was during your senior year of high school that the two of you started going to watch each other play. At least when you both had the time, which wasn't super frequent. It was merely a taste of what the two of you were about to experience in college. Both of you had signed to become Hawkeyees. Caitlin for basketball and you for soccer.

It was your freshman year of college that the two of you started hanging out. You had become pretty close friends that always acted like more. Your friendship took a turn one night when you were taking care of a very sick Caitlin.

"I don't want soup," she pouts and turns away from the spoonful of soup you are trying to feed her.

"Caitlin you need to eat," you say as you grab her shoulder to hold her down from rolling over. She tries to fight you but is extremely weak due to the flu overtaking her body. She whines when she can't turn away from you and lays there in defeat. She looks like she is on the verge of tears.

"Hey, hey," you say as you rub her arm. "Shhh it's okay love." Your hand comes up to her face and caresses it. She looks up at you with such tired eyes. "I know you don't want to but you haven't eaten in days and it's scaring me."

Her eyes stare into yours as she takes your hand holding the spoon and guides it to her mouth. She takes a little bite that looks painful to swallow but she does. You kiss her forehead and continue to feed her the broth.

Later that night you fell asleep next to her bed, you took the floor to not get sick yourself. Caitlin woke up and saw you sleeping on the floor. She turned to face you and looked down, she loved watching you sleep. You always looked so peaceful which is so different than watching you on the field. She reached down and brushed a piece of hair from your face and whispered 'I love you'. Little did she know that her touch had stirred you awake and you heard her little confession.

It was shortly after Caitlin got better that you two started dating. You went public on your three-month anniversary, which was also when you signed for the USWNT. It had been a dream of yours since you were a little girl.

You stopped playing for Iowa once you joined the women’s team but that didn’t stop you from going to support your girl for her games whenever you could. Caitlin did the same whenever you had games close by and the two of you sort of became known supporters at each other's games. It was kind of cute how people would get excited to see Caitlin coming to your games and vice versa. Someone had even started an amateur fan account for the two of you, nothing ever came from it but it would pop up on your feed every now and again. It was mostly posts of you wearing Caitlin's jerseys at her games and Caitlin wearing your jerseys to support your games.

There was one game you went to support Caitlin and had her fans come up and ask for pictures with you. It was cute how her fans were so supportive of the two of you. But with support, also comes hate.

As the years go on, your relationship with Caitlin grows. By the time the two of you are entering your senior year of college, you have pretty much been through it all. The ups and downs have been very high and very low but you wouldn't have changed any of it. It was because of those times that you know as you begin your careers, you and Caitlin will make it.

It is during your last year that you get drafted as the first pick to the Chicago Red Stars. Caitlin and your family are there for the draft and are over the moon for you to be playing closer to home. When your name is announced - you hug your family first then make your way to Caitlin. She engulfs you in a hug and kisses the top of your head. You look up and give her a little kiss before heading up to shake the announcer's hand and head off to a few interviews.

Being drafted before the school year ended meant that you would have to finish your senior year online. It wasn't your favorite but you were determined to get your degree, even though everyone was saying you no longer needed it. It was something you felt like you needed to accomplish.

This also meant that you would be moving to Chicago to start training. At no point was there ever any tension in your relationship with Catilin when it came to moving. The two of you had a conversation early on about what your life goals were which included playing pro for your respective sports. The two of you talked through what that would look like and how you would prioritize one another while pursuing each of your dreams. The way you two were on the same page only solidified your relationship even more.

As Caitlin and the Hawkeyes were heading into March Madness - you weren't able to make it to the Sweet Sixteen or the Elite Eight. That didn't stop you from watching your girl dominate on the court - breaking records and doing what she does best (shooting logo threes).

You were bummed that you couldn't be there when she broke the NCAA scoring record but one of your teammates got a video of you watching your girlfriend make history and posted it. It gained a lot of traction and was the first time they featured your relationship on any sports network.

When you found out Caitlin was heading back to the final four - you made it a priority to head to Clevland to watch. You were able to pull some strings and get courtside seats to watch your girl front row. You watched them play UConn and were stressed the entire game. This was some of the best defense you have seen a team put up against Cait. They came to fight.

Throughout the game you had people come up to you and ask for autographs and photos. It was neat to see it was a variety of both Caitlin's fans who knew you as her girlfriend and also your fans who have watched you since you started with the USNWT.

When the Hawkeyes pulled through and took the win - everyone flooded the court, making it almost impossible to find Caitlin. It was actually a handful of people in the crowd who helped you locate her. When you saw her, you ran straight up to her and wrapped your legs and arms around her. You knew what this game stood for - it was redemption from the previous year.

"THAT WAS AMAZING BABE!" You yelled right in her ear.

She laughs and spins you around, "I am so glad you were able to make it." She inhales you and is reminded of how much she misses you. "Do you have to leave?" She asks, only half-heartedly wanting the answer.

"Well knowing you were going to win this game and Coach not needing me back until Monday, I am staying to the final," you say hoping down from your girl but keeping your arms around her neck.

Caitlin brings you back into her and just holds you. As thankful as she is that her team just won, she is even more grateful that she gets to spend some time with you. Cait and the team only had a light practice the day in between games. The rest of the day was to be used as a rest day with the exception of a team dinner. You spent the day in Caitlin’s hotel room. Most of the time the two of you spent catching up on life and how each of you has been doing. She talked about her feelings about how she contemplated staying at Iowa for a fifth year versus going to the WNBA draft. The two of you had talked a little over the phone about it but there was something about having you there that really opened her up about all the thoughts she truly had. You sat there and listened to her talk - it was one of your favorite things to do. You could sit with her forever and be content.

She loved talking to you because you never pushed her in one direction or another, but would rather genuinely listen to her. And when she would pause to gather her thoughts, you would ask her questions to help her figure out what she wants to do and not what the media expects of her. You knew the last thing that she needed was someone else telling her what she should and shouldn't be doing.

When it was your turn to unpack - you talked about the shift from playing on the women's national team to a city team. It was a shift but one that was really nice. It felt like you were finally able to settle down somewhere and you were excited for her to feel the same and hopefully a little closer to yourself than she was at now. You missed being around her.

You continued to talk about how her team has been super welcoming and that you all instantly fit into the team. That was something Caitlin knew you were worried about signing with the Chicago Red Stars. She hasn't been out to one of your games yet but is hoping to before she goes into training.

That night you joined Caitlin at the team dinner. All the girls were happy to see you. It was great getting to spend some time with everyone - with Cait being on the team, you had become really close to some of her friends. Kate and Gabby were especially happy to see you.

You went to watch the championship game the next day - sitting right behind the team's bench. You watched your girl put up 18 points in the first quarter - breaking another record in her last collegiate game.

As the game progressed you saw how difficult it was for the Hawkeyes to put up points against the best defensive team in the league. But they put up a fight.

In the final quarter, you could see the hope in the team's eyes slip away as the momentum SC was gaining kept going. When there were only a few minutes left, you saw the shift in Caitlin's demeanor and knew that she was beginning to accept defeat.

At the one-minute mark, Coach Bluder pulled her starting seniors and allowed some of the other girls take the court. As Caitlin was walking off, she alongside Kate and Gabby went down the line of coaches and gave them each a hug. When she sat down on the bench, you couldn't see her face but knew she was struggling to keep it together. If there was anyone else in this stadium that knew how much she wanted this win, it was you.

It didn't come as a surprise when Caitlin sat right in front of you. You leaned down to her and placed your hand on her arm. No words needed, just a sign to show her that you were there. Her hand comes up and rests on yours, giving a little squeeze.

She spent that night in your arms. You tried to get her out of her head but weren't doing a great job of it. All Caitlin really wanted was to be held by you and that is exactly what you did.

You flew back to Chicago that Monday - feeling sad you were leaving Caitlin but know you left her in good hands with Kate and Gabby. Before leaving - Caitlin booked a flight to come out to watch you play in Chicago. You thought it would be a good distraction as well as nice to have her back in the stands.

When it was game day, you took the field for warm-ups, occasionally looking towards the stands to see where your girlfriend was watching from. It wasn't an easy task but you looked in all the typical places she would watch from when you were playing for the USWNT. When you couldn't find her in the crowd, you got worried that she wasn't able to make it. When you got back to the bench, you did a quick scan when one of the other girls came up to you and pointed to one of the boxes. Looking over - you saw Caitlin in the middle box talking with your team manager.

A smile makes its way to your face as you see them talking and laughing. Your team manager was kind of a hard-ass which would have you worried if it was anyone other than Caitlin. But knowing your girl, she could start a conversation with anyone.

Throughout the game, you would glance up to the box. You were met with the sight of either Caitlin watching intently or her talking with whoever else was there. You noticed one of the times she was talking to one of your teammate's wives. It was such a comfort to have her there.

At the end of the game, your team pulled through and took the dub against the Kansas City Current. As the team was celebrating you felt someone come up from behind you and spin you around. Knowing immediately who it was, when you were put down - you turned and jumped into Cailtin's arms.

"Proud of you babe," she says as she embraces you yet again.

"I am glad you were able to come," you say and grab her hand to introduce her to a few of your teammates.

The next day you see an article out about Caitlin coming to your game. It wasn't the first but it was the first that you saw circulate social media to this extent. It caught like wildfire and the next thing to know your following on IG went from 20k to 50k.

You didn't think much of it considering you don't follow the media really at all but thought it was cute and shot it over to Caitlin. She thought it was funny and criticized the photo they chose of the two of you.

The next thing you know, you are in New York getting ready for the WNBA draft. You are sharing a room with Caitlin and just sit in awe as your girl is getting dressed. She is the first to sport Prada for the WNBA and she is looking amazing.

Once she is dressed, the two of you head down. There are a few photos snapped of Caitlin on the way down, you follow closely behind her, trying to not get in the frame. That proves hard to do as she refuses to let go of your hand. At one point she looks back and gives your hand a little kiss before heading into the elevator to head down to the orange carpet.

The night went by in a blur. Caitlin is the first pick and is headed to the Indiana Fever. It was what both of you were prepared for and have honestly started planning for as well. You two started talking about how it would be so nice to only be an hour's plane ride away from each other (a 3-hour drive if needed).

Her crew celebrates by going out for some drinks and food. It was a fun night out with the girls not only celebrating Caitlin but also Kate who was drafted into the Aces. The two of you end the night back in the hotel.

The next morning, you started to get notifications and messages about the media calling you and Caitlin the new 'Power Couple' of the sports world. Before you could open anything on your phone, Caitlin was showing you hers. You looked at the post that Ovvertimewbb posted. It was the photo of Caitlin kissing your hand right before heading into the elevator with a caption on how you two are the couple to watch in and out of the game.

"So they are calling us the couple to watch," you say as you hand the phone back to Cait.

"Looks like it," she says with a laugh. "I have no idea what that means."

"Honestly, neither do I but we will find out," you say as you lean over to give her a kiss.

Throughout both of your rookie seasons, the media watches you both closely. You because you have been on fire, consistently playing record-breaking games and carrying your team to victory, and Caitlin because she is changing the game.

Now that the two of you are closer, going to support each other has become much easier. Once Caitlin started in Indiana, she was at almost every one of your games - almost always supporting you from your manager's booth. You always joke with her that your manager loves her more than they do you. Every now and again she would be standing fieldside, out of the way of course. The media tore up any time she was standing on the field or seen talking with your manager. It would always be something about how Caitlin is such a great girlfriend coming out to support you. Or it would be how your GM has found a new person to watch their team with, having a picture attached with your GM and Caitlin laughing about something.

The posts and articles went both ways. You went to support Caitlin whenever you could which then put you in the spotlight. It was unexpected to both of you how much the media ate up your support for each other.

It was when you were watching an interview that Caitlin was in that it began to click.

"Caitlin - you are projected to be rookie of the year, how do you feel about that?" The interviewer asks.

"I think it's pretty awesome," she responds with a smile. "Just like the work I have put in during my college career to get here, I have put in the work this season to be up for rookie of the year."

"Well, it is quite impressive, if I must say," the interviewer compliments your girlfriend. "But what is also impressive is that your girlfriend is also up for rookie of the year."

Caitlin just smiles and nods. She could say a lot (she will rarely brag about herself but when it came to you, she could talk up a storm) but just sits and nods. To everyone watching - it was a proud girlfriend moment.

"Seeing you go and support each other at games, getting the posts of your post-game meals with one another, and all the talk about how each of your teammates has become great friends with you and her, you have become the ultimate power couple in the sports world." Caitlin doesn't blush easily but she’s blushing now. "How has becoming this power couple affected your relationship?"

"Well it is kind of funny - neither Y/n nor I have really seen much of what has been going on in the media with any of it," Caitlin says.

It was true - the two of you tried your best to stay out of looking into the media like that. You knew it wouldn't affect your relationship in the slightest but never really cared for what other people said about the two of you. Outside of supporting each other during games the two of you led a pretty private relationship.

"Well let me show you a slim snippet of what the fans are saying," the interviewer says as they start flashing photos of you on the screen. "There are endless fan edits of the two of you while you are watching each other games. What really got me was finding a fan account that has been following the two of you since your college years."

Pictures of the two of you from their account started flying across the screen. Photos going back in time - it was a neat way to reminisce on the past and how far you have come.

At the end of the slideshow is a picture from when you played in your final home game for your high school - senior night. It was a picture of you and two other girls heading to the captain's meeting in the middle of the field. In the photo, it is you and your co-captains looking down but if you looked over to the crowd - there is Caitlin, front row with some of her friends there to watch you play.

Caitlin remembers the moment as if it was yesterday. She debated going to that game for weeks before it happened. She didn't tell you she was coming to your senior night but brought you flowers and she gave them to you afterward. That was the night that you had Caitlin falling even harder than before - getting so excited when you saw her. Causing her heart to leap out of its chest when you dropped all of your stuff to pick her up and spin he around. Her stomach filled with butterflies and her cheeks turned a deep pink - the first time you made her blush.

"Yep, that's me," she says with a laugh, turning even more red than before. "You could say we were fans of each other long before we started dating.'

"Well, that is the cutest thing!" The interviewer says with such excitement. "We are all rooting for the two of you and can't wait to watch you both as you progress in your careers."

Later that night, you call Cait. She picks up the phone immediately.

"I know, I know," she says, already knowing what you are going to say.

"You are too cute when you blush," you say with a little laugh.

"Ugh stop babe," she says laughing as well. "Did you hear when they called us the ultimate power couple?"

"I did," you say full-on laughing now. "It is crazy to see how many people are invested in our relationship."

You hear her hum in agreement, but she doesn't say anything.

"Hey babe, is everything okay?" You ask, worried that this is all starting to get to her. You know Caitlin doesn't follow the media like that but you wouldn't blame her if she fell down the rabbit hole after that interview. I mean, you did.

It wasn't intentional but after you watch the interview, curiosity got the best of you and you started looking at some accounts. Most of it was sweet - pictures and comments of how the world is cheering you on but with being in the spotlight more, there were also more people who used the platform to tear you down. It really didn't affect either of you - at least when people talked about yourselves. But you knew when people start talking bad about you on her posts, she gets caught up in her head about how hateful the world can be.

It takes her a minute but after what feels like a lifetime, she responds.

"You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege of knowing," she starts, causing your heart to swell. She begins to stumble on her words. "I - just thank you." She says. "Thank you for being so amazing not only to me but to the world. I can't wait until you begin your off-season and move here with me so we can finally be together. Then when you go back, and I am off, I will come and live with you and everything will be right in the world and we will get a dog and start planning our wedding and both be living out our dreams."

She pauses and you take a sharp inhale. The two of you haven't really talked about marriage - if you were being honest, you had no idea that was even on Caitlin's radar. It was on yours but you never wanted to rush her.

"What was that last part?" You ask slowly.

"Us living out our dreams?" She asks, knowing it is not what you are talking about.

"No right before that..." you say as it feels like time has stopped. The only other time you have felt this with her is the first game you played against her. She had been one of the only other players who could keep up to you and you let her know that after. Whispering the compliment in her ear and watching her react to your touch had stopped time for you.

"Start planning our wedding...?" Caitlin says extremely slowly. You are hooked on every single word she says as she repeats that.

"Caitlin Clark, are you asking me to marry you?" You say jokingly but also dripping with genuine interest.

"You are just going to have to wait to find out," she says and you can hear the smirk that has grown on her face.

Little did you know that Caitlin already had the ring. She knew she was going to marry you after you picked her up and spun her around on your senior night. It only solidified when the two of you started dating in college and were there to support one another during your sporting events but also just with life in general. Having you by her side wasn't an option. You pushed her to be better than she could have ever imagined. You brought her out of her head when no one else could. You let her be herself unapologetically and she couldn't imagine a more perfect person.

"Well just know, if you get down on one knee at either of our award ceremonies, I will say no." You say, trying to play it cool when your heart is beating faster than it does on the field.

Caitlin laughs and you join in, longing for the days when you can have these conversations face to face.

AN: I hope this does the request justice. Please let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[jareaul0ver]

Bruises

part 2

Summary: You get hurt during hockey practice and an unexpected blonde patches you up.

wc: 823 warnings: physical fighting, bruises, blood, denial of feelings, regina being a SOFTIE pairings: regina george x fem!reader

"C'mon Shane, put some power behind that!" The head coach yelled at one of your teammates. He groaned in frustration.

You were about to run a scrimmage. You'd been put on the opposite team of Shane, who was now pissed off. Everything was going good, you had the puck on your stick and the only thing standing between you and taking a shot was Shane.

In one quick motion, you were slammed into and knocked onto your back. He didn't even make a move for the puck. "Oman, watch it! You good, Y/L/N?" You heard your coach shout from the side.

You sat up on the ice and readjusted your helmet. "I'm fine, coach!" you called out and got back onto your skates. The scrimmage continued, and you had finally scored, bringing your team up a point. You scored again, and once more.

Shane seemed to have had enough of this. You had the puck again, and you passed it. A few seconds after you passed it, Shane sped at you, slamming you into the wall of the rink. You hit it forcefully and fell onto your knees.

"What the fuck, Shane?" You yelled out. You stood up and took your helmet off, tossing it to the side. You did the same with your stick, then rushed over to him, hitting him hard with your gloved fist. He almost fell back, but he caught himself.

You two were now fighting. Your teammates all froze and watched it go down. Shane had gotten a good hit on your cheek bone, splitting the skin open. You felt blood drip down your face. The only reason you didn't swing again was because of your head coach and assistant coach pulling the two of you apart.

Shane was ushered to the boy's locker room, and you to the girls. You took off the top half of your gear, throwing on a t-shirt, and waiting for the trainer to come in and check you out.

Instead, you watched as a blonde figure rounded the corner. You immediately sat up. "Regina? What're you doing in here?"

She made a beeline towards you, leaning down to get a good look at your face. You were surprised. Not because you weren't friends, you were very good friends. Regina had practically picked you up from the ground and placed you on the same level as heaven during your sophomore year.

You were just shocked to see her here, standing in front of you with a frown on her face. "Y/N? Are you listening to me? Can you listen to me, do you have a concussion?" She pulled you away from your thoughts.

"Yes-" you cleared your throat. "Sorry, yeah, I'm listening." No you weren't, you both knew that.

She sat next to you and sighed. "Shane did this to you?" She spoke gently and you nodded. She clenched her jaw. "Fucking idiot. Not you, him." She brought her hand up to your face and gently brushed over your cheek.

You winced and her face softened. "Sorry." Regina had never had a soft spot for anyone. Not until she met you. Something in her constantly pulled her towards you, and at first she tried her best to fight the feeling off, but eventually she gave in.

"You didn't answer my question. What're you doing here?" You keep your eyes on her icy blue ones. Usually they were cold, unless she was secretly staring at you without your notice, and except for now. They were soft and almost apologetic.

"Word travels fast and I needed to make sure you were okay." Her tone was genuine, and it made your heart melt.

You looked down at your hands in your lap, looking at the bruising on your knuckles forming. "I'm okay. My face kinda hurts though." I smiled a little, meeting her gaze again.

She rolled her eyes and her lips twitched into a small smile. "You're such an idiot." She reached out for your hands and took them gently into hers. She looked at the bruising and grimaced a little. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" You asked, a little confused.

"You got in a fight with my idiot ex."

The confused expression never left your face. "And why is that your fault?"

Regina knew exactly why it was her fault, but she could never tell you. She couldn't say that Shane was actually the one who ended things with her. The fight they had wasn't about him with another girl, no. It was about her with you. He had accused Regina for having feelings for you, and while she didn't admit to it, she never denied it, so he broke up with her.

"It- it isn't, I just feel bad." She swallowed nervously. She looked down at your hands and gently ran her thumbs over your knuckles. She brought one of your hands up to her mouth and gently kissed the bruises.

theres gonna be a part 2 to this, definitely, but its nearing 4am and i am TIRED