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tobesolnelyx · 14 hours ago

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— isn’t that enough? || fratboy!shauna shipman x fem!reader

a/n: hello!! this fic would never appear if it weren’t for beloved 🖋️anon and all of those beautiful ideas!! took me time to write it but i finally got it :)

summary: shauna shipman is barely holding everything together. in her early twenties, she’s too busy with work, college, her baby, you and playing soccer to think about herself. until she discovers…hockey. fluff. parent!shauna. parent!reader. g!p shauna. modern college au. hockey!player shauna. song: isn’t that enough by shawn mendes.

word count: around 3k

The hockey arena reeked of detergent. A little boy sat on your lap. A long forgotten toy rested in his small hand. His chubby fingers clutched the plastic car, but his eyes had long since been fixed on his other mom.

Shauna cut across the rink with sharp skates gliding forward, even though not long ago she had still been struggling with skating. Her eyes scanned the rink quickly, her heart pounding in her chest as she kept her focus on the puck at the end of Lottie’s stick. The uniform made her hot, and it had taken her a while to get used to the helmet, the heavy pads, and the gloves always gripping her stick tightly.

Her hand shot up; someone collided with her, but she shoved them away with her shoulder, pushing through to the puck that Lottie had just hit toward her. She dodged another player, though he nearly hooked her stick. She stumbled, but quickly regained her rhythm. The clock showed the final minutes ticking away faster than Shauna would have liked.

She turned sharply, her skates slicing the ice. The goalie stepped out of the net when she saw her approaching but she lifted her head again to scan the rink. Lottie had moved into the center, right in front of the goal, fighting with a defender. Another was still chasing Shauna.

Shauna aimed the pass. Accurate, and strong. The defender slammed into her so hard she hit the boards, but she managed to stay on her feet. She wasn’t sure who got their stick to the puck, maybe it was a desperate attempt to block the goal by the defender, maybe it was Lottie.

Either way, the puck slammed into the net. Thirty seconds remained, so after one more play the game would be over. Shauna realized she had just won her first game in her life, even if it was only for fun.

Grinning and panting from exhaustion, she sped toward Lottie, almost throwing herself onto her. The boy’s little eyes followed his mom or rather the hockey uniformed figure meant to be her, and then turned to look at you. Big brown eyes studied you uncertainly, as if trying to figure out whether a puck in the net was a good thing. You smiled at him, gently sliding the toy out of his hand. He would soon turn three, but he was calmer than any other child you knew. Shauna said she’d been the same at his age, so you weren’t worried.

You leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head, and he made a soft noise in response. The whistle sounded in the background, but the little boy went back to playing with the toys laid out on the bleachers, mumbling to you under his breath.

Until Shauna started climbing the steps. She was drenched in sweat, her cheeks flushed from exertion, her helmet already off, revealing damp hair plastered to her forehead. She hadn’t had time to fully change, but she was grinning like she had just won a championship.

She knelt beside you, her hands gently cupping your face and pulling you into a soft kiss. You wrinkled your nose at the unpleasant smell of her gloves clinging to her hands.

“You could at least take a shower,” you murmured against her lips, and she laughed. Then she leaned down to kiss the little one, but he didn’t even look up. He grabbed another doll instead, carefully adjusting its legs.

“I could,” Shauna admitted, still breathing hard. She brushed her hair back from her forehead and laid her head in your lap, right next to the boy. “But then you’d have to wait for me longer,” she smiled.

Which had become a rare sight lately. Shauna had grown up, mentally. She hadn’t yet finished college, but she had become more serious. Parenthood had changed her a lot as had the fact she now had to work to support her little family. And she still tried to juggle it all with school and playing soccer.

Though the last part wasn’t going well. She didn’t have much time for training, she’d lost her soccer captain’s armband. Not to mention that the team hadn’t won anything last season, and Lottie had quit, switching to hockey instead. Shauna never talked about it, bottling everything up and scribbling in her journal, but you didn’t need to be a genius to see she wasn’t feeling her best.

You felt like all her energy had drained away, that the routine was slowly killing her, rooting her into a quiet life revolving around the child, work, and school. No parties, no free evenings.

At least now there was hockey. You couldn’t be more grateful to Lottie, who occasionally pulled her into casual games with her team. Who bought her the gear she needed. Lottie, who slipped hundred dollar bills into your hand when Shauna was too busy to notice and tell her friedn that you don't need this cash.

Every time you thanked her, Lottie waved it off, saying she was just glad to spend money on something worthwhile. She never wanted anything in return, but at least you could give her a family dinner and the warmth she didn’t have at home in return.

So now as you gently massaged Shauna’s neck, you savored the moment. She was far too young to settle permanently into the routine of being the head of the family. Shauna looked up at you, her fingers finding yours and pressing a light kiss to your hand, mumbling something that sounded like, “I love you.”

*****

“Babe,” Shauna murmured, catching you with one hand and squeezing your hip. She didn’t even look up at you as you sat down on her lap. In her other hand, she still held a book. “I have to finish this by tomorrow.”

It was one of those rare evenings when your parents had agreed to look after your son. Your small apartment was quiet, and you finally had a moment to take a long, warm bath. Shauna had just gotten back from work, but she had still made dinner.

Now you had hoped for a moment just for the two of you, though you were losing the battle for Shauna’s attention to whatever poetry book she held in her hands.

“The world won’t explode if you don’t finish your reading for class just this once,” you laughed, shifting on her lap. Shauna only furrowed her brows, still not tearing her eyes from the words on the page. Your smile faded.

The warm glow of the bedside lamp lit her face, and soon her fingers left your hip to turn the page. You sighed heavily, still watching her.

“I’m serious,” you murmured, slipping your hands under her shirt. The muscles under your touch tensed slightly, and you bit your lip. It wasn’t that your relationship was failing but the truth was there was no time anymore for dates, sex, or intimacy. “I thought we’d have some time for ourselves…”

“I’m serious too,” she finally sighed closing the book and setting it down wherever. “I’m tired, I’m not in the mood. And I have to finish this.”

With that, she picked up the book again, once more ignoring you. Your hands froze under her shirt, then slowly slid out, leaving behind only the rumpled fabric.

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the dull ache somewhere in your chest. It wasn’t her fault. She had the right to be tired, the right not to feel like it, and you knew she cared, she wanted to give her family the best. But still. That one selfish thought churned in your mind.

You weren’t asking for much. Just a little time together.

You looked at her one last time before sliding off her lap to your side of the bed. You slipped under the covers, turning off your lamp and leaving the bedroom in semi darkness.

Brown eyes followed you, something dangerously close to guilt flickering in them as she stared at your back.

“Hey?” she whispered, leaning forward a little to check if you were asleep.

“Hm?” You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

“I love you.”

And though it was selfish, you pretended you hadn’t heard.

*****

Your son’s little hands were pressed to the glass. You held him tightly so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. His eyes once again followed his mom as she skated across the rink, much happier with a hockey stick in her hand than kicking a soccer ball. You knew you hadn’t been your best to her yesterday. And on top of everything, she’d argued with the rest of the team about how she no longer cared about their well-being.

Because she didn’t. That was the thing, Shauna had lost all joy in playing soccer.

But now she was flying across the ice passing the puck to another player, shouting something with a smile on her face.

The little boy tapped a finger against the glass, but you quickly told him he shouldn’t do that. He didn’t understand, he just wanted his mom’s attention. Right now, she was too focused on racing toward the goal.

“Stop it,” you said gently but firmly, smoothing down his blond curls that were darkening with each passing month. You wondered if your genes had any influence at all.

“Hard to mistake him for someone else.”

You turned at the sound of a voice. Your fingers instinctively tightened around the boy so he wouldn’t slip while you were distracted.

The woman was middle aged, gray starting to streak through her dark curls. A whistle hung around her neck, and you realized you were looking at a coach, someone closely related to the Matthews family. At least, that’s what Lottie had told you.

She smiled at you. You frowned slightly but returned the gesture.

“Sorry?” You glanced at the boy, who squealed happily when Shauna finally noticed him, making stupid faces from behind the glass. She quickly looked away when the puck hit her stick.

“The boy,” the coach nodded toward him. “Looks just like her.”

“Oh.” You glanced briefly at him. “Yes, sometimes I think he’s her little copy.”

The coach chuckled, her hands sliding into her pockets as she stepped closer, watching the players through the glass, though her gaze kept drifting back to Shauna.

A moment of silence fell between you, broken only by the sound of skates cutting the ice, shouts and the dull thud of the puck. Then the woman took a deep breath, as if she had been preparing for what she wanted to say.

“You should talk to your…” she began, unsure how to name what you were to each other.

“Girlfriend,” you finished, and she frowned slightly. People tended to expect more when there was a child involved. And maybe even you were waiting for Shauna to kneel and confirm that this was something permanent.

Even if Shauna had never made you feel like it was fleeting.

“About what?” you asked, the small smile leaving your face. The boy turned toward you, mumbling something under his breath, but you gave your full attention to the woman in front of you.

She sighed, but something in her expression told you she was too determined to back out now.

“She’s good. Really good. And I think she’s wasting her potential staying with a soccer team that never wins anything,” she said. Then, before you could respond: “I think she should start training for hockey seriously.”

“Maybe you should talk to her, then,” you shook your head, a little confused. After all, it wasn’t your decision. Shauna had to make that choice herself.

“I’ve tried,” she replied immediately, clearly prepared for that answer. “But she insists it’s just a hobby and that she needs to focus on more important things. Like her woman. And her son.”

You clenched your jaw, a sudden pang of guilt hitting you for not answering her yesterday. You should have. Shauna was trying, for both of you.

“That’s up to her,” you shrugged, glancing back at the boy, who was once again watching his mom with those big brown eyes.

The coach tilted her head, scanning you carefully.

“Do you work?” she asked suddenly, catching you a little off guard.

You nodded, not entirely sure where she was going with this. “Shauna works at a store, but...”

“So your parents aren’t the richest?” she interrupted again, cutting you off. The boy pointed a finger at Shauna, who was once again racing toward the goal.

“What does that have to do with hockey?” you snorted, without a trace of humor, shaking your head.

The coach twirled her whistle between her fingers.

“Shauna could get a scholarship. Not to mention other bonuses from wins. That would be more than enough for you. Matthews already bought her the equipment,” she said, leaning a little closer. The little one finally noticed her, studying her intently.

“Talk to her,” she said in parting, before turning on her heel and walking slowly along the rink’s edge.

*****

The warm kitchen light lit Shauna’s figure as she stood washing dishes. You licked the spoon from your ice cream and gently set the dirty dish in the sink. Shauna shot you a look, more amused than annoyed. She stood in nothing but Spider-Man boxers and a fitted shirt, her fingers reddened from the hot water.

“Hey,” you murmured with a small smile, perching on the counter. The little one was already asleep, you’d just tucked him in after a few bedtime stories.

“Hey, babe,” she said in a lower voice, glancing at you briefly. Shauna seemed happier these days, thanks to hockey. All the bad emotions that piled up during the week seemed to drain out of her, leaving her in a strange state of calm.

Her journal lay open on the counter. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw yet another unfinished poem. Sometimes you had the feeling Shauna left these pages open on purpose, for you, so you could read them. She wrote about motherhood, about the child, about you. And after a few times of finding her journal left open, you realized this was her way of communicating. Of telling you the things that got stuck in her throat when she tried to speak them.

You opened your mouth, hesitating, and then said:

“Can we talk?”

Shauna didn’t take her eyes off the dishes.

“Sure.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, watching her hands. You needed her full attention so when she finally turned off the tap, you gently tilted her head toward you and kissed her hard.

Shauna’s hands hung limply over the sink. The dripping water was the only sound besides your hot breaths mingling together. She needed a moment, but then she kissed you back.

Her still wet hands landed on your bare thighs, pulling your legs around her hips. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging lightly. In moments like this, with her tongue tangling with yours and her muscles flexing under your hands, you remembered that you were both only just past twenty.

Her lips were warm, her hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you closer. You laughed into her mouth and she matched it. Quickly, her kisses moved to your neck. You sighed with satisfaction. Shauna had been rarely this affectionate lately.

“Why don’t you start training for hockey?” you murmured with your eyes half closed, suddenly remembering why you’d wanted her full attention in the first place.

Shauna’s mouth froze against your throat, and after a moment you realized you’d struck a nerve. Her hands tightened on your hips, tension growing in her shoulders, so you instinctively began to massage them.

“What?”

“I just thought that...” you began, but she cut you off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“You thought, or you talked to that fucking nosy coach?” she scoffed lightly, but didn’t move away.

She had you there. Shauna wasn’t stupid, normally you wouldn’t bring this up, since it was entirely her decision. It didn’t take a genius to guess what this was about.

“Shauna, it doesn’t matter,” you huffed, still working your fingers over her tense shoulders.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” she sighed, trying to pull away, but you quickly caught her hands.

“Scholarship,” you blurted out, just to keep her there. And it worked, cause Shauna froze, staring at you with furrowed brows.

“Excuse me?”

“You could make money from it.” When she didn’t speak, you went on. “Plus, you’d have more time for everything.”

It took several solid days of persuading her. You followed her everywhere, explaining that it was the best choice. At first, she was as skeptical as humanly possible. She ignored your requests, called them stupid ideas.

Shauna had far more important things to do and had never even considered hockey seriously. Your girlfriend was stubborn as fuck, even when the logic started to get through to her, she never let it show. She would never in her life give you the satisfaction of admitting you were right so easily.

Until one warm evening, when you were lying with your head on her chest and she was lazily scratching your back. Her heartbeat was steady when the words finally slipped out of her mouth:

“Maybe it’s not such a bad idea after all,” she murmured. That night, her journal was left open again in the bathroom, to a poem that was clearly meant for your eyes.

“Told you so,” you mumbled sleepily, feeling her hand on the bare skin of your back and snuggling closer to her, as close as humanly possible.

“You’re annoying,” she scoffed, but there was no anger in it. A soft kiss landed on your forehead.

Before you knew it, you were leading your boy by the hand to the bleachers to watch Shauna’s practices and games.

Getting the scholarship wasn’t easy. She didn’t quit her job at the store right away, she couldn’t. Only when she’d earned her first money from hockey did she hand in her resignation. And with a little help from your parents, you could live a steady, decent life.

Lottie had bought her the equipment. Shauna already knew the basics, so not long after that she made it to the first team’s bench as a reserve. At first, she was full of frustration, the fact that she couldn’t find her footing, that she wasn’t playing on the ice right away. It even led to another huge fight between her and Jackie and Nat. She tore her hair out over it, her English poetry suffered a bit.

But then, one day, she stepped out onto the ice. Only for the last period of the game, but still.

Shauna was almost as happy as the day your boy was born. She ran to you in the stands, giddy as a child, asking endlessly if you’d seen her performance.

And no matter how hard the goodbyes were before away games, Shauna was finally happier. You felt like she was the exact same Shauna you’d met on your first corner in college.

And even though it still wasn’t perfect, you finally got the ring. After one of the winning games, when you were holding your son in your arms and Shauna was practically exploding with emotion, she finally knelt down. And you finally got the confirmation you had been waiting for so badly.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #shauna shipman #my writing #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x female reader #shauna shipman x you

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tobesolnelyx · 8 days ago

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i had the most fucking amazing beautiful insane lovely crazy wonderful realistic dream about making out with jackie to "my sweet lord" by george harrison like???? hello??? what??? anyways that’s the most amazing dream ever and probably the best i’ve had in the few last years

anyways now i’m just listening to it on repeat cause it felt so real and i miss her and i’m about to die cause what??💔 also!! i cried when i woke up

anyways beb can you please make a short blurb or smth like that because i just miss her and i miss her and i really really miss her☹️

-🩰

a/n: got you, darling! something shorter but i hope you like it <3

Jackie’s breath was hot as her lips found yours once more. Her hands were just as warm. Sliding under your shirt, her fingertips traced a path across your waist and hips. Her nails lightly scratched your skin. The pink pearlescent nail polish had already chipped in a few places, and you wondered if you'd repaint them again. And if so, would pink smudges once again stain your shirt after Jackie pulled you into another kiss?

The scent of grass and Jackie’s mom’s flowers was almost intoxicating. You could feel the grass tickling your neck and shoulders beneath you. Somewhere in the background, water splashed lazily in the Taylors’ pond. Occasionally, the flutter of wings echoed around as birds lifted off the trees. The wind rustled, lifting Jackie’s golden curls. The radio quietly played George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord.”

In that moment, you silently thanked the universe for the Taylors’ huge backyard and the fact that they had decided to leave for the whole week. That’s why you could roll around with Jackie in her garden with no consequences.

Jackie shifted positions, her arms slightly giving way as your hand landed in her hair. A short laugh escaped her throat between kisses. The silence was broken by her husky voice as she pulled away slightly.

“I should throw you in the pool for waking me up that early today,” she muttered, and before you could reply, her lips were on yours again. Almost like Jackie couldn’t pull away from you. And maybe, she couldn’t.

“You said yesterday that you wanted to see the sunrise,” you murmured in response, smiling. Her lips kissed yours gently. They were soft, and Jackie’s skin smelled like the last days of summer. Last ones before senior year.

“I wasn’t serious,” she scoffed lightly in reply, but the smile was still glued to her lips. You wanted to say something back but she was kissing you again. This time harder, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your pulse quickened as Jackie slid between your legs. Her hip pressed tightly against yours. Her fingers tugging your shirt upward. Her tongue slipping between your lips. Tangling with yours.

The grass rustled again as Jackie moved. Her hands became more demanding, her fingertips pressing into the hollows of your body. Her breathing grew heavier with each moment.

You loved these moments. The ones where Jackie let herself go. When her hands wandered beneath your shorts, when she kissed you like she wanted to lose herself in you. And just when you thought Jackie might finally do something more, she always pulled back. As if the idea that anything real could exist between you scared her.

Now, as her hands slid to your thighs, as she settled between them, her lips found your neck. Your breath came faster, your nails dug into her back. You stared up at the pale sky. The sun warmed your face, and Jackie’s tongue trailed across your throat. A soft moan escaped your lips, her fingers beneath your shorts…

The blissful silence was shattered by a loudly tuned radio somewhere in the neighbors’ yard, completely drowning out Harrison’s voice. Jackie pulled away in a split second. Her head snapped up, and panting, she stared at the horizon, trying to locate the source of the loud music. Eventually, someone turned it down though soft notes still reached her ears.

You looked at her. Your skin was still glistening in the places touched by her lip gloss. Light shimmered on your neck. Your hands slid gently down to her shoulders. You just looked at her.

Finally, Jackie’s eyes met yours. Because maybe she didn’t always look at you, but she always came back to find your gaze. She leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I’ll get us our swimsuits,” she whispered. The grass rustled, and then her warmth was gone again. You were left on the grass, your shirt pushed up to your chest and your shorts crumpled by her hands.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x you #my writing #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x fem!reader #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #🩰

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