#I can't believe it's already been a year since I have moved! last year I was doing everything here for the first time

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, ptsd references, implied violence

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140852350

Chapter 5 - Kaz

“It can’t be a coincidence,” 

Kaz mused over Nina’s words for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning slowly to put the pieces together. It definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. But Kaz tended to follow a strict practice of believing nothing was a coincidence. He’d told Inej that once, and she’d nodded wisely.

“Fate has plans for us all,”

She’d been sitting on his windowsill, watching the rain running down the glass. She began to trace one with her fingertip, and he followed it with his eyes. Kaz frowned. He’d left the door open, because it was raining and he didn’t want her to open the window, but for some reason he was suddenly compelled to push it shut. Like there was something here that should be hidden, that he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of anyone else ever bearing witness to. He flexed his fingers and gripped his cane tighter, refusing to move.

“Suddenly, I believe in coincidences again,”

Inej looked at him for a moment, then back to the rain. 

But it seemed very unlikely that Nina landing a strange job on the Geldstraat right before this job started was a coincidence. Kaz didn’t know what it added up to yet, but he would figure it out.

“Well, anyway,” said Nina, “I spoke to Feliks, all good for the job. He’s not thrilled about it though,”

“Of course he’s not,” said Kaz.

“He said you’ll owe him for the lost income,”

That would be more concerning if Feliks didn’t already owe Kaz money. And anyway he wasn’t really paying attention to that; mind still whirring away trying to solve the puzzle of Nina’s job on the Geldstraat last night. Not a coincidence. No such thing as a coincidence. No such thing as fate either, but Kaz really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“Did they want you to go routinely? At the Geldstraat?”

Nina bit her lip.

“He said it could be an ongoing offer, if I wanted it. But he also said he lost an indentured Healer recently, if he gets someone else I don’t see him forking out any extra cash for the pleasure of my company,”

“When you say lost…?”

Nina grimaced.

“Concerningly vague,”

Kaz wasn’t surprised. He nodded.

“Alright, I’ll look into it. If this ends up being an ongoing job for you it might be good for intel. Inej is at the Crow Club, tell her to get a bag together - I want you at the university tonight,”

“Tonight? Kaz, you said two days, I have clients-”

“They’ll wait,”

“Kaz-”

“Update Inej. I need to talk to the old man,”

Nina huffed a little, but she turned on her heel and went on her way. Kaz watched the empty doorway for a moment before he slowly stood up - his leg was wreaking havoc today, and he leant heavily against his cane to find his balance. He was going to be vulnerable without the Wraith for a time, and now she was vanishing slightly earlier than expected. He’d set up a communication line but it still felt dangerous not to have her close by, gathering secrets. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” she’d admitted last night, when they were discussing the plan.

It was before word had come from Nina and she’d left to follow her to the Geldstraat. They sat in Kaz’s office at the Crow Club - the door was closed and the room had no window, but they needed privacy and there wasn’t much Kaz could do about that. He watched Inej, wondering if they would need to step outside, but she seemed fine perched cross-legged on a chair, posture perfect, hands planted on her knees. Kaz found himself studying the tiny movements in her fingers, the occasional movement of her boots against her knee as she shuffled her feet. He bought her the boots the night they came back to the Slat, because he was an idiot and he hadn’t brought anything with him for her to wear. She’d traipsed after him all the way from the very North of West Stave to the very South of East still dressed in those ridiculous purple silks, completely barefoot. It hadn’t helped the whispers amongst the Dregs about what he’d hired her for.

“What connection does any of this have?” she asked, beginning to drum her fingers against her knees.

“It’s about forming the connections,” he’d told her, “Just focus on getting close to the mark - or let Nina get close and follow suit. Then we can discuss what comes next,”

Kaz’s leg screamed at him all the way down the stairs, only quieting slightly when he began to cross the ground floor of the Slat towards Per Haskell’s office. The Slat was nothing special to look at - actually it was ugly as hell to look at, with its faded, faintly mossy eaves, the wonky boards at the front that made it look like it was leaning on the buildings either side of it for support, and the fact that it probably was leaning on them but the boards just accentuated it - but nothing had come as close to feeling like home to Kaz as the Slat did since he’d arrived in Ketterdam and his entire world was slowly pried from his weak little childish hands. That was what this city did; took everything from you. And this is what you did to survive it: demand something in return. Scrape and claw and bleed your way through the Labyrinth until you didn’t just defeat the monster at its centre, you became it. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He wasn’t quite there yet, on the very top, but he would be. He would taste the monster’s flesh, and embrace the city as his own. The Labyrinth was meant to be a prison, but if you played your cards right you could own it. And Kaz never sat down to a card game he couldn’t win. 

“Enter,” came the gruff, muffled response from Per Haskell to Kaz’s sharp, single knock on the door.

It sounded like he’d already been drinking, and when the door was open the smell alone confirmed it. Kaz fought the urge to grimace, keeping his face a cool, flat mask as he closed the door behind him. There was a window in this room and for a strange, ridiculous moment Kaz almost moved to open it. He needed to get his head on straight - the Wraith wasn’t even here, and if she had been then she could open a damn window herself if she wanted to. 

“Kaz, my boy,”

Haskell gestured for him to take a seat, and Kaz’s leg was putting up such a protest that for once he took up the offer.

“Sir,” he said, nodding.

Haskell grunted. He was playing with one of his little ships in a bottle things again, and for a moment just let Kaz stew whilst he drove his focus into rearranging one of the tiny pieces. Kaz didn’t get the appeal of these little models but they were popular to display in merchant houses, to sit on desks or mantelpieces like the homeowner was waiting for your gaze to linger on it just a second too long so that he could tell you a long story about it and how it’s an exact replica of a ship he, in fact, owns himself. There were two half-constructed ones sitting on Haskell’s desk that he’d given up on over the last few months, and Kaz watched the man’s meaty, and slightly shaking, fingers fumble over the details of his newest one, feeling unsurprised that he’d never been successful at finishing any. After a minute had passed Haskell sighed and plunked the thing carelessly against the table, then picked up his glass and downed the last few drops before all but slamming it back down. Kaz flexed his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane, tightening his grip. 

“Brandy?” asked Haskell, as he began to pour himself another glass.

Kaz abstained.

“Alright,” the old man breathed, taking a sip before he continued: “What trouble are you here to tell me this time, then?”

What could Kaz tell him by way of trouble? That Jesper Fahey abandoned his security shift without telling anyone where he was, only for the Wraith to drag him back five hours later from a Dime Lions club? That Nina Zenik had been sent to the Geldstraat to complete a highly suspicious Tailoring job that might have had something to do with the job Kaz had been planning for so long? All he said was:

“I need Nina and Inej to start the job earlier than I thought,”

Haskell frowned.

“How long will they be gone?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s all under control. You’ll get your twenty percent,”

Haskell’s jaw twitched. It always got on his nerves when Kaz didn’t tell him what a job was, but that wasn’t part of their agreement. And besides, Kaz didn’t want to spread the details of his plans to too many people - everything in Ketterdam leaked.

“You can’t just take my Heartrender and my best spider without telling me h-”

“They’re not yours,”

“Well they ain’t yours,” growled Haskell.

“That isn’t what I meant,”

He groaned loudly and performatively, shaking his head.

“Don’t go getting righteous on me now, boy. I want them back here within the month, at minimum,”

Kaz pursed his lips.

“I’ll try to arrange that,”

“You see that you do,”

“Yes, sir,”

Haskell snorted, but Kaz knew he lapped up every stupid politeness he gave him. He liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a large, criminally-inclined family, but everyone knew it was Kaz who did the real work. It was more of a formality for Kaz to ever tell him anything at all.

“The Black Tips are still edging away at Fifth Harbour; pushing their luck,” he said, watching Haskell run a ringer along the rim of his glass, “We should move quickly if we want to re-establish our dominance,”

Haskell waved a hand dismissively through the air,

“A mere dog yapping at our heels. Monitor the situation, if things are any worse in a few months time we can organise a parlay,”

The man really was an idiot. Kaz nodded.

“Yes, sir,”

By the time Kaz left the office, disgruntled and impatient, Nina was back at the Slat. 

“Where’s Inej?”

“Upstairs getting her stuff,” Nina said, nodding vaguely towards the stairs, “You really not going to tell us anything at all?”

Kaz sighed.

“When you get to the University, go straight to the office opposite the Boeksplein; it’s 24 hour, and they should be expecting you. You just arrived from Ravka - private journey, pepper it in because the tourist ferries don’t arrive this late - and there should be transfer papers waiting in your name. They might kick up a fuss about you being early, accommodation-wise, but-”

“But we’re two young rich girls from Ravka, it’s the middle of the night, we’re exhausted from travelling, and we’ve nowhere else to go,” Nina finished in a falsely distressed voice, winking at him, “I think I can manage that,”

“Good,” he handed her a thin stack of kruge, “That’s a month’s salary in advance, if it takes longer I’ll give you more but if it’s shorter I’ll need it back,”

She narrowed her eyes.

“This is your money? Not the Dregs’?”

He shrugged. He had to pay her somehow.

“Thank you, Kaz,”

“You won’t be any use to me if you run out of cash and starve,”

Nina sighed, tucking the notes into her pocket.

“Well thank you anyway,”

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. enjoy reading.

masterlist.

You are not surprised when Max Verstappen won the 2023 Formula One season. Given how he dominated each Grand Prix in the season, except Singapore but we don't talk about Singapore, you kind of expected the results already. This is Max's third time winning the WDC title and that makes you the manager of a three-time WDC title holder now. As someone who worked with the guy the last five years, you are immensely proud of Max. You’ve been working as his manager ever since 2019—you, twenty-three, a fresh graduate of Mechanical Engineering and he, twenty-one, an aspiring world champion but you've known each other since 2018—so you knew better than anyone else, better than Christian Horner even, just how much it took from Max just to reach the place where he is standing right now. Furthermore, Red Bull Racing also won the Constructor’s Championship so everyone in the team cannot be any happier. Celebrations are in order, of course, but you have excused yourself to retire early in the evening instead. Max has asked you why. You replied that you're tired and that's the only truth you can offer him.

You draft your resignation letter whilst everyone at Red Bull is partying in some place else in Abu Dhabi. Good for them honestly. What better way is there to celebrate a victory than with alcohol? Fortunately, there's canned beer on the mini fridge so that's your share of the victory alcohol tonight while you're hunched over your laptop on the couch. Rihanna is playing from your laptop speakers in a Youtube playlist in another Google tab while you work on the letter on a separate Google Docs tab.

Dear ________,

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as the manager of Red Bull Racing first driver, Max Verstappen, effective seven days from today’s date, November 26, 2023.

I appreciate the opportunities for growth and development you have provided me during the five years I worked for this amazing team. Leaving is not an easy decision for me but in order to further my career, I have to spread my wings and explore. Please let me know if I can help with anything to make my resignation easier for the company staff.

Thank you, Red Bull, for giving me wings and the courage to fly. Now, I believe it is time for me to soar new skies. I will cherish the time I have spent here in Red Bull Racing.

Sincerely,

[First Name] [Last Name].

You read it over and over again, checking for errors in the spelling or the grammatical structure.

“Thank you Red Bull for giving me wings and the courage to fly….” you mutter. What Red Bull gave you was five decades worth of stress. One decade's worth of stress for each year since you were accepted in the team. “Cringy as fuck.”

Your phone abruptly rings and you jump in surprise, dropping your phone and your beer and oh shoot, you almost dropped your laptop, too. You scramble to pick up the canned beer, hissing slightly when you see the liquid form a pool on the tiled floor. Your initial response is to avoid it so you sidestepped and kicked your YSL heels away from the puddle. The heels are previously placed next to your feet neatly but now they're thrown haphazardly on the floor a few meters away. Your eyes quickly search for a towel, or anything you can use to wipe that shit off before it reaches the expensive hotel carpet, but there is no towel in your vicinity and the liquid is moving fast so you take off your Red Bull shirt—haha, you’re resigning anyways—leaving you in only your sleeveless undershirt. You throw it on the floor. Then, you crouch down and hurriedly wipe the beer.

Crisis averted! Beer - 0. You - 1. You pick up the call after, already knowing it's from Max even without reading the caller ID because you have set a separate ringtone for him, using that catchy Super Max sound, “Hello, [Name] here. Anythin’ I could help?”

Daniel’s voice is not something you have expected to hear, not from Max’s phone anyway, but then again, they should be together right now at the afterparty, “Hi [Name], we kind of got ourselves stuck in a situation here.”

Your brows furrow, forehead creasing, “Danny? Somethin’ wrong?”

“It's Max.”

You stiffen before slowly rising to a stand. Your head begins running at a speed of 300 kilometers per hour, the pace of a Formula One car, coming up with different scenarios where Max is in danger and a list of things you can do to get him out of those situations, “What's wrong with Max?”

That's how you found yourself in the middle of the Red Bull afterparty, navigating through the sweaty and drunk Red Bull employees with your eyes actively searching for a tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired, blue-eyed Dutchman. You find him nearly ten minutes after entering the party, in a corner, on the floor, next to a yellow puddle of disgusting liquid with his head hanging low and the two Alpha Tauri drivers, Daniel and Yuki, standing right beside him. Thank God they did not leave Max.

The fact that they are in a party full of Red Bull employees and none even tried to help Max bothers you greatly. Jesus, what is wrong with these people? You lower yourself in front of him, hand coming up to his nape while the other is on his forearm before gently guiding him away from the vomit pool just in case he accidentally touches on it. If he did, you know you're the one who’s going to clean him up and frankly, you aren't in the mood for dealing with that. Max follow your hands like it's second nature for him to follow your guidance, leaning into the warmth of your palm.

“What happened?” you finally voice the question you've been dying to ask once Max is a good distance away from the pool of vomit. Daniel is the one who answers you, “He asked for you.”

That doesn't answer your question. Thankfully, Yuki decides to be more helpful, “He broke up with Kelly this morning.”

Oh.

He raced while shouldering a broken heart and still won? Poor Max. But also, you are not surprised. Not even a bit. It's very much like him to prioritize the race over his feelings because Max Verstappen only wants one thing in the world and that is to emerge victorious at the sport he loved. To prove to the world that he is top one, to prove to Jos Verstappen that he is top one and that he will go down in history as top one and the world shall remember it even after he leaves the F1 racing scene for the young ones.

“Thanks, Yuki,” you turn to Daniel and nod. “Danny, I’ll take it from here.”

“Are you sure you don't need help?”

You shake your head and offer a tight-lipped smile. Dealing with a drunk Max is no biggie. You have worked with the guy for five years already, four as his manager. That's over a hundred podiums and defeats and in each defeat and each podium, alcohol and Max become the best of friends. You’re used to this; cleaning him up, picking him up, tucking him into bed, calling his girlfriend to deal with his drunk ass, and helping him nurse the hangover in the morning with an Advil and a good breakfast.

You roll the sleeves of your champagne-colored button-up to your elbows and in one swift motion, you lift Max in a fireman’s carry. That volunteer work you did at LAFD back when you're still in university paid off in these moments.

It was a comedic sight. A 5’5” woman in heels carrying an almost six foot drunk racer who is at least two times broader than her on her shoulders. The media has already caught a picture of a similar-looking moment one time in 2019 and another in 2021—such times are the beginning of those annoying dating rumors that involves you and Max—and you can say that Twitter is mostly impressed that the Red Bull manager was strong enough to lift a high-performance athlete. Some made memes of it. You'll never admit that you saved some of them, especially the ones that made fun of Max so you could put it above his head. Some even claimed that your YSL heels must be some sort of superhero power up because you do a lot of athletic things in those heels like running through the paddock as if you were just wearing a pair of Nikes, kicking a door down, driving a motorcycle around in Monza to buy Max's morning coffee, and getting in a physical fight with Max’s anti-fan back in 2022. In theory, you can and will absolutely kill a god in those heels and honestly, it's about time YSL sponsors you because you're giving their Opyum heels so much promotion.

What the public doesn't know is that Max is lighter than he looks and paired with your capability of lifting heavy equipment and people due to your history as a volunteer firefighter, it is incredibly easy to lift him without breaking a sweat and yes, even while wearing heels. People are too easily impressed nowadays.

You ignore the confused stares that are sent your way as you hurriedly walk to the comfort rooms. In a matter of seconds, you are power-walking yourself inside the male comfort room, sending an unimpressed look at the two Red Bull rookie employees making out inside. They are horrified when they see you. You can tell with the way their eyes widened and how they scrambled away from each other and hurriedly fixed themselves while muttering a thousand apologies. You don't even need to say anything. They are out before you could even tell them to.

You lock the door behind you before heading towards the bathroom sink and placing Max there. You put your hands on the back of his head and shoulders to support him until he's leaning against the mirror and sitting fully upright. You wish he won't topple over and accidentally hit his head on the tiles.

“Hey, hey,” you tap his cheek. “You good, Max?”

You sincerely hope he won't pass out. Unconscious people are heavier than conscious people when you lift them.

Procuring a water bottle inside your tote bag, you hand it to him. He accepts it wordlessly and down it in one go. You pull out an extra shirt from your bag, “Off with the shirt, big boy.”

Obediently, Max does what he is told and he peeled his shirt off him. You have to help him midway because he got it stuck around his neck. You toss the stinky shirt somewhere on the sink and hand him the shirt you brought. Again, you help him put it on because drunk Max has seemingly forgotten where the holes of the t-shirt are and which limb should enter a specific hole. Oh wait, that sounds wrong.

“You're taking good care of me.”

His voice sounds so small when he utters those words that it almost got swallowed up by the silence of the room and the muffled sound of the party outside.

“Aren't I always?”

You are paid to take good care of him after all.

“Always.”

You wet a towel in the sink and squeeze out the excess water in the wool. Your fingers gently cradle Max’s jaw as you wipe his face. He has a little vomit on his cheek.

You're used to looking at Max’s face up close but you still cannot help but be amazed by the beauty of it, you know? Some people will not consider Max as a conventionally beautiful man. Different people have different preferences. Honestly, you used to be one of those people. You met Max when he was twenty-one and that time, he looked like a fetus and greatly resembled Sid the sloth from the Ice Age movies. You used to tease him all the time about it, calling him a kid and pulling the age card when he needed to be reigned in or to annoy him until he submits into obedience, when you are only a year older than him. The stress of racing caused Max to age quickly but thankfully, he does not age badly. No, instead Max transitioned into an absolute daddy. Thank God he is more like his mother than his father, too. His mother’s genes saved him. Thank you Sophie!

You would have fallen for him, too, like the gazillion women all around the world who'll fall at his feet, but it’s hard to do so when you know he doesn't even know how to peel his own oranges. Drives a car going 300 kilometers per hour and can’t even peel a damn orange.

Twitter is always having a field day when they manage to snap a picture of you peeling oranges for him. Orange Peel Theory or whatever that is. Ludicrous bullshit, to be honest. The only theories you know are the ones taught in Physics class.

“I wonder if you know how much I need you,” he mutter. “I wonder if you can tell.”

“Very poetic,” you say flatly because Max has the tendency to say the most out of pocket yet soul breaking things when he's drunk and you are too tired to rationalize all his musings right now. We love a trauma-dumping king.

“You talkin’ ‘bout Kelly?” you ask, brow raising slightly. You continue to clean his face before proceeding to wipe his arms and his hands.

“I don't know.”

“Okay.”

He probably is talking about Kelly anyway.

Now that Kelly is gone, you’re beginning to get worried for Max. Earlier, as you wrote that resignation letter in your hotel room, the worry of leaving Max was not present. He has Kelly after all. Kelly can easily do the things you did for Max, not that she should do the work of a Red Bull manager because honestly, if she plans on taking up your job now, you’ll tell her to run and save herself. You mean the support you gave Max. You mean going all-out in protecting Max whether from haters or even his own father and especially his own darkness. You mean standing with him, inside that open cage that he can walk out of anytime but chose not to because Jos Verstappen still had his claws on him. You mean not leaving Max, no matter where he stood, may it be at the top of that glorious podium or at the end of the line. You mean taking care of Max the same way you did, even if he insists that helping him is nothing but rotten work.

But then, she left. Now what?

“I want to tell you something.”

You lift your eyes and met Max’s glazed blue ones.

“It is in my will that if I die—”

“You're not dyin’," you cut him off, not even the least bit amused about the idea of Max dying.

“Shush,” he playfully glares at you and you roll your eyes, itching to pull that I’m older than you so don't shush me card just to annoy him. “Let me finish. It is in my will that if I die, my cats will be taken care of by you. Oh come on, stop making that face. You look like you're having an aneurysm.”

“Shut up,” you swat his forearm with the damp towel, causing him to laugh at you. “Why’d you even do that? Give them to your Mom or somethin’.”

“But nobody is better at taking care of someone than you,” he says and his voice bled with rawness and honesty and so much sincerity that you're taken aback. “I want someone to take care of them like how you take care of me.”

You blink, mouth slightly agape. What can you even say to that? Thank you? I’m honored? Dude, what the fuck? Are you confessin’ to me or somethin’? You doin’ big shit over there by putting me in your will.

Now, you’re even more worried. Who will take care of Max after you're gone? The same way you took care of him?

Nonetheless, on December 13, you submit the resignation letter to Christian Horner. He reads the letter with a deep frown marring his face. It's funny how he had the same expression on his face, too, on the first day you met him when you were applying from Red Bull.

“Have you told Max?”

The guy is sleeping in his hotel bed as you speak and will probably be awake in a few hours with the world’s shittiest hangover. So no, you have not told him. Not yet, at least.

“No.”

“He wouldn't be happy with this.”

You know Max does not bode well with goodbyes, especially from the people he closely worked with leaving Red Bull. Look at what happened with Danny in 2018. Now, it is your turn. Two of his biggest friends in the Red Bull team, leaving in search of careers outside his shadow. Being in Max's shadow..... They are right after all. It is a curse.

While you love Max, platonically of course, being his manager is not what you wanted. You did not suffer through four years in engineering school just to become an errand girl for a racer. This is not what you applied for when you sent that application letter in Red Bull and Renault back when you were twenty-two. Renault didn't have an opening in their engineering team so your future with that team was quickly erased. Red Bull had no opening in their engineering team either but they had an open spot on the team as Daniel Ricciardo's manager for a whole season. You accepted their offer, naturally, hoping that their engineering team will have a place for you soon. When Danny left, you contemplated following him to Renault.

Then, Max told you to not go to Renault because they're a shitty team and perhaps he was right because in that sucky car they had, Daniel barely won podiums, but if Renault would give you the position you wanted and worth your student loans, then you'd take it.

"No, stay."

Demanding little prickly ass, he was, "I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I'll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team."

You did not know why you believed him.

2021—Max became world champion. You hoped he would ask Horner like he told you back in 2018.

2022—Max became world champion again but you're still stuck as his manager. You reminded him of his declaration in 2018. He told you he was already on it. Two rookie engineers entered the team that year, taking the spot that should have been yours years ago and you were stuck wondering if Max was really putting truth on his words.

2023—Max became a third-time world champion and you wouldn't even ask anymore.

“I know," you say, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll deal with it."

"I'll trust that you'll be the one who'll tell him?"

It amuses you how no one wants to deal with Max or drop him the big news. Everyone knew how crazy he could get when Max does not like something. He's a menace. He'll terrorize everyone. You're the only one who could hold the menace down.

"Of course, Sir. Leave it to me."

“Are you transferring teams? Are you still going to stay in Monaco near Max?”

Monaco is not home. Home is desert and heat. Home is Texas.

“Nah, goin’ back to Austin.”

Everybody knows Texas was your home, your accent and your manners spoke of it. Some Europeans look down on it, calling you a country bum and a cowgirl mascarading as a sophisticated sidehoe of a champion. Fuck 'em all.

“Everyone in the team is given two weeks off now that we’ve won so your resignation is immediately effective of today,” Horner says. “If the US GP is held at Austin next year, make sure to come by. Max would appreciate it.”

Christian Horner is an asshole but he is at least good to Max and that's what's important.

You get a text from Max an hour later.

him: i feel like shit

him: thanks for the advil and the soup

him: also im flying back to monaco tonight, fly with me

Tonight, you're flying to Monaco with Max Verstappen. Seven days from now, you're flying home alone.

[flamagenitus]

Epic Prank! My tortoise hasn't eaten in 3 days so I picked him up and put him under his UV lamp so he'd leave his cabin!

[gasstationlady]

GUTS | a lando norris social media au | pt. 1

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader, ex!drew starkey x reader

y/n l/n’s latest album is speculated to be about her ex. however, she already moved on.

note: fc is olivia rodrigo! i hope the quality of the photos are okay, everytime i saved my drafts on my phone they became blurry :(

disclaimer: no hate to drew!! i just needed a famous ex. also so sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos!!

masterlist ⋆ next

yourusername

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yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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yourbestie soooooo proud of you 🥹 this album is amazing

user teenage dream made me BAWL i love you 😭😭

user MISS Y/N, YOU HAVE DONE IT AGAIN

oliviarodrigo obsessed.

user omg are the songs about drew

enews

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enews In Y/n’s new album, “Guts,” Y/n shares information on her old relationship with Drew Starkey. The pair started dating last year until ultimately breaking up in the beginning of 2023.

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user omggg this is the drama i’ve been waiting for

user you guys really chose to focus on this when not even half the songs are about drew

user this album saved 2023

yourusername

liked by yourbestie, bellahadid and 6,313,074 others

tagged yourbestie and conangray

yourusername some GUTS bts, still can’t believe it’s out but i’m so happy it’s yours!!!! been sitting on these songs for a few months and although some of them are a little outdated, they still mean a lot to me!!

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conangray spilling my guts absolutely everywhere

yourbestie LETS GO GUTS

user album has in fact been on repeat since the release🫡

user “a little outdated” girl please elaborate you can’t leave us hanging like that 😭😭

f1updates

28,459 likes

f1updates Lando Norris with fans in New York! Most likely staying there until the #SingaporeGP

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user 🤤

user what is he doing in new york?

↳ user no literally bc it’s kinda sus there’s no reason for him to be there 😭😭

user ugh he looks so good

deuxmoi

57,380 likes

deuxmoi 🚨 NEW COUPLE ALERT 🚨

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user obviously it’s y/n l/n but which driver???

user you guys are srsly bored

user kinda iconic of her to go from drew to an f1 driver

↳ user fr i just know drew has to be feeling some type of way rn

user Y/N DATING AN F1 DRIVER WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD

yourusername

liked by yourbestie, zendaya and 2,116,844 others

yourusername soooo excited to be performing at the @/VMAs!!! make sure to tune in on Tuesday at 8pm on #MTV

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yourbestie talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, showstopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely never been done before

zendaya AHH can't wait!!

user wait am i crazy or am i connecting the dots right now

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, charlesleclerc and 1,950,468 others

landonorris Quick NY stop

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danielricciardo Where was my invite?

↳ landonorris ...

user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH OMFG

↳ user the fact that he was the one to soft launch first IM CRYING she's living my dream 😭

user is that y/n 😭😭

user GUYS ITS HAPPENING

drewstarkey

834,801 likes

drewstarkey bad idea right?

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user this is so messy omg 😭😭

user NO HE DID NOT

↳ user wait i'm so confused why are people freaking out?

↳ user "bad idea right?" is one of the songs y/n wrote about him and the song literally talks about her wanting to go back to him

user posting this right after guts and lando's soft launch is CRAZY

[gglitch1dd]

I’ve been wondering… when Toshinori goes to UA and his parents help him unpack in his dorm, does any of this friends or classmates think his mom’s a MILF and comment on how fine she is?

Oh definitely!!! It would drive him mad! Can't invite his friends over or anything because he knows they'll be thirsty for his mom.

"Okay sweetie do you have your toothbrush?"

"Yes mom, it's in the bathroom box."

"Did you also pack all your shoes? I thought you said you were missing a pair of slippers?"

"I found them and I put them in the shoe box."

"What about deodorant? Your bed sheets? I think I only folded like three sets and-"

"Mom!" Toshinori laughed as he took your hands as you and him stood in his dorm room in UA.

You, Izuku and him had been carrying boxes up to his room on the second floor into the room he'd be living in the entire year, outside of holidays. It was no surpise to anyone that the son of the number one hero managed to get into Class A. No surprise at all. You and Izuku were so exceptionally proud of Toshinori.

You eased as you looked at your oldest sprout. You felt tears come to your eyes as you cupped his face looking at him. For a second you saw the little baby you first held in your arms. The little guy who would cling to you and rely on you constantly.

Where did that little sprout go?

You sniffed as you covered your eyes.

"Mom..." Toshinori's shoulder's dropped as he looked at you with a sad smile. "Mom don't cry." He urged.

Izuku walked in with the last two boxes, the heaviest ones so far. "Alright. That's everything out of the car-" He paused as he saw you in tears. He slowly put down the boxes and looked at his son. He motioned to you with one finger. Toshinori nodded. Izuku put on a gentle smile as he chuckled and walked over to you, pulling you into his arms. "He's going to be fine, my love. I had to go to the dorms by myself and so will he. He'll be fine. Shinso said he'd keep an eye on him since he's homeroom teacher for class A."

"I know but Izu..." You dropped your hands and motioned to Toshinori. "My baby... He's gone out of the nest."

Izuku pat your back. "My love, he's just at UA. He isn't that far. We'll see him on holidays." He reminded you. Izuku let go of you as he moved to Toshinori.

He put his hands on the teenagers shoulders. Toshinori was dressed in his UA uniform already, a small red tie around his neck, tied Midoriya style, he stood in gleaming red Jordans, matching to his dad. Izuku looked at his son in front of him and he saw himself, only this time his son had a father to wish him off well.

Izuku opened his mouth to speak but he lost the words. He lifted up a finger and turned away as he tried to fight off the Midoriya sized tears. You weren't the least bit surprised that Izuku was crying.

Toshinori threw his hands up. "Great, now dad is crying too." He moved over to the both of you, pulling the two of you into a hug. Izuku wrapped his arms around the three of you, keeping you all close. "I'm going to be fine." He told you both softly, ignoring the burning in his own eyes.

"We know..." You said softly. "Just... remember to call, okay?"

"I will."

"And don't forget to wash your socks."

"I won't."

"And if you want to sneak alcohol into the dorms, make sure to bribe Hounddog with a Medium Rare steak."

"IZUKU!" You glared at your husband and his so called advice which Toshinori laughed at. Your husband put his hands up in surrender, but personally he believed he was saying the important things to remember.

With all the tears mopped off the floor, Toshinori accompanied you both down the elevators where some of the others were, a lot of them being kids you already knew since they were in your friend group.

"Hey Toshi!" Another first year boy jogged over to Toshinori as you and Izuku headed off towards the doors. He kept his hands in his pockets but nodded towards you. "Who's that lady?"

Toshinori paused for a second. "Oh that's my mom."

"Dude! How could you not know that's his mom?" Kaminari Haiden, Denki's and Jirou's son, commented as he motioned to you. "She's literally always on the news with ProHero Deku."

The guy scratched the back of his head. "I just didn't expect her to be such a MILF."

"EXCUSE ME?!" Toshinori let out loudly with an appalled look on his face.

Haiden sighed as he nodded his head, folding his arms over his chest. His purple hair was styled in the same way as his dad but with a white lightning bolt. "I know right?"

"Are we talking about Aunty Y/N?" Kane asked as he walked over with his hands in his pockets. The other boys hummed in agreement. "I've been telling Toshinori that his mom is hot and he's never believed me."

"That's my MOM!" He reminded his friends motioning to your form. "She isn't hot! She's my mom!"

"Are we talking about Toshi's mom?" Todoroki Keiji asked. He was one of the Todoroki twins, his hair being ice white as he turned to look to where you were. "Yah she's fine."

"HELLO!? CAN WE STOP TALKING ABOUT MY MOM PLEASE?!"

"Toshinori!" You called at the door. You waved a hand. "Bye, baby. Stay safe!"

Toshinori fought off an embarrassed blush but nodded. "Bye mom."

You smiled. Recognising the boys he was standing with, you waved your hand at them in goodbye. "Goodbye boys."

"Bye Mrs Midoriya." They sang with dopey smiles.

Haiden sighed. "Man, you're dad is one lucky man."

"DUDE!?"

-Glitch1d

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hello ❤️

Can you please write something about Jason x Danny? Maybe something about Jason having a crush on this new guy (maybe Danny works in a library or helping people as a nurse) and just falling cause Danny is sincerely nice and isn't afraid of his Lazarus's rage

Jason first notices the new face volunteering at the soup kitchen when the guy hand-makes flour tortillas for the beans. Just like his mom used to make, alongside Mrs. Huerea before she got into drugs.

It's been years since he last had some, not because Alfred refuses to make it but because the butler never has the time.

It's usually a treat for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah, or his birthday. Sometimes if Jason is lucky, there is another important holiday for the many members of Wayne Manor, and there is time for Alfred to get them done. He can have them more.

But mostly, Alfred had them store-bought.

That's why he wanders to the other man's line, mouth already watering as the volunteer piles smashed beans with cheese and tortillas onto plates. A name tag has a simple "Danny" on top of a white NASA shirt coupled with slightly baggy pants is the whole outfit of the stranger - odd in Gotham's winter time.

He offers Jason a smile, then, with a wink, places two more fresh tortillas on his plate.

Before he can say anything, Danny pushes the plate toward him. "I can tell you're a man who appreciates fine food. Take them. I can always make more. "

He jerks a thumb to the back, where a press awaits use. It looks just like Mrs. Huerea's iron-clad tool that, for a second, he's six again, early happy the women preparing for Christmas.

When his mother was sober, the Huereas had always opened their home to them. The elderly couple had always felt like grandparents to him.

"Thanks," He says around a forming grin. It matches Danny's.

Jason accepts the food with an excited thrill; for once, the memories of his mother are not so bitter and ruined. He moves out of the way for the next person, making a mental note to tell his men to ensure Danny gets home safely after his shift. It would be in his employee's way.

He does this often, assigning some Red Hood boys to make sure no one bothers any of the volunteers. Jason knows he can't get rid of all crime, not like Bruce believes, but he can at least protect those trying to make this place less of a shit hole.

He sits, savoring the flavor with great appreciation. He's got time to relax a little.

One of his Lieutenant is in the back, speaking to the director of the Soup Kitchen. This is one of Jason's protected areas, but to make sure people know it's not to be taken lightly, the Red Hood gang does require protection money.

He doesn't ask a lot but Jason knows that any place that doesn't have protection money is a bigger target. Of course he also here pretending to be hungry just to make sure the place is actually doing what they promised to do and feed people.

When Jason first took over, this particular place had been known to only give out half of the money they donated in food. The rest was going into the old director's pocket. When he caught wind of the senior director often refusing kids just to save money to steal, Jason quickly fed him to the fish.

His Lieutenant, Rogers, would not be able to recognize him. Jason was eating without a mask. What better disguise than his own dead face? Much less the other people in the soup kitchen.

Although he was meant to observe his surroundings for any funny business, Jason glued his eyes on Danny the entire time. It seemed the man had an easy smile for everyone and a calming personality that seemed to put even the most hostile at ease.

Snow. Jason thinks while watching Danny make more tortillas while chatting with a street kid until the young girl feels she could make one. He lets her round the table easily, showing her how to press down on the metal lever with the same soft ease. He's like pure white snow.

He would not last long in Crime Alley. Nothing pure ever does.

Jason fishes his food, unable to look away from what he knows would be a broken man in only a few weeks.

He leaves just as Rogers returns to the front clutching a brown bag. It looks like he didn't need to worry about the upkeeping of this place. He needs to check on the other kitchens in his territory before the day is out.

After three other Kitchens, Jason is satisfied that he's secured two. He must send Rogers to the last one because a few girls seemed uncomfortable with the leering crew. He'll have the creeps removed by this Friday.

He's swinging around as Red Hood on his normal patrol when he catches sight of Danny again. It's close to two in the morning, so he's surprised to see the other man cheerfully strolling about without any signs of exhaust.

He's also not wearing warm clothing despite the snow slowly falling around them. The only difference between what he was wearing earlier is the large black backpack. Jason half wonders if Danny only has nothing else to wear until the man pauses at an alley entry.

He crouches down, unzipping his bag, before pulling out a plastic-wrapped package. Jason watches him cautiously walk into the alley, following on the roofs out of curiosity.

His eyes widen when he spots a young boy hiding behind a trash bin, squishing himself against the wall as Danny carefully approaches him.

Jason hadn't seen the kid when he had passed by earlier, likely due to the boy knowing how to hide himself in the shadows. How had Danny seen him?

"Go away!" The boy yells when Danny gets too close for comfort. Jason's hackles rise, pulling out his gun in case he needs to intervene. He remembers the days when the sound of approaching footsteps to his hiding places in the streets meant.

Danny stops just on the other side of the trash bin. He places the package on top of it and backs away quickly. "I don't mean to bother you. But I thought you could use these. Stay warm, and if you need to escape the snowstorm, go to the address in the right pocket."

The boy doesn't answer, and Danny doesn't seem to wait for one. He leaves with quick strides. Jason watches him from the roof, noticing he returns to a slow stroll once he's back on the main street.

Below, the street kid carefully pulls the plastic bag towards him once he knows Danny is gone. He unwraps the bag only to gasp in delight at the jacket, gloves, hat, scarf, and socks inside. He quickly slips them on, burying himself in the small amounts of warmth they offer him.

Jason watches the boy for a few minutes before jumping down. The kid scrambles away until he realizes it's Rood Hood. Everyone knows that he won't harm street kids.

"Hey," He says, noting that the boy's new clothes seem to be made from expensive material, all in black and neon green. "Do you have somewhere warm to sleep tonight? Snowstorm is coming."

"I can handle it." The boy scoffs despite the shivers that wrack his body.

"I know you can. But it's not safe out here" He kneels at the boy's eye level. He seems about twelve, likely new to the streets since he has yet to find proper shelter. Dirty blond hair and dark, weary brown eyes stare back at him as Jason offers. "Let me get you somewhere safe."

"I won't go back to the stupid system."

"Nah, that shit's broken. I got a safe house for you to crash in."

The boy thinks it over. "Just us?"

Jason isn't a mind reader to know what the kid fears. "No. It's full of other people."

It takes a few more minutes, but eventually, he convinces Max to follow him. They travel across Crime Alley to one of the empty warehouses he had turned into an illegal shelter. Inside are various Red Hood gangsters passing out blankets and setting up cots for people from the streets to sleep.

The heaters are on, but a few still refuse to remove their warm clothing- likely in fear of theft or that it proves an extra layer of comfort- as they settle down.

Max thanks him as the boy rushes to a corner that seems to be taken over by children. He doesn't approach the others to speak to, but he looks more comfortable picking a cot close to them. Jason's eyes widen slightly when he realizes that all seven children are wearing some form of the Black and Neon Green outfits Danny had given Max.

Rogers strolls up next to him, nodding his chin at the children. "Some street kids have been saying a man is offering them free supplies. He doesn't ask for anything in return and leaves them alone with they tell him to. His calling card is the little neon green ghost he places on each item. Want me to take a few of our boys and check him out?"

Jason grunts. "No need. I already know who it is. He seems like a non-threat."

Rogers appears flabbergasted for only a few seconds before pulling himself together. "If you say so, boss."

Jason turns to stare at the man, and Rogers raises his hands. "All I'm saying is that it's a little odd how good the guy is at spotting street kids."

"How good is he?"

"It's like he can see in the dark. He might be a meta."

Jason thinks back to Danny walking around in his light clothes like it's the middle of summer instead of winter and finds some weight in the meta-theory. "I'll pay him a visit soon."

Rogers lets the matter drop, even if he is confused by Jason's involvement. Usually, he has some of the newest members of the youngest ones who reckon a personable target- or new recruits.

But something about Danny called out to Jason. He couldn't say it, but the man's snow-like personality eased the Pit Rage in him. Strangely it felt like Danny was the calm winter promising rest to the wounded parts of Jason's soul.

He didn't want to see Danny's pure heart ruined by this city.

Jason wonders if he could keep it safe and if Danny will even give him the chance to try.

He hopes so. Danny has such a lovely smile.

[wwinterwitch]

right person, all the wrong times - anthony bridgerton

summary: you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader word count: 7.3K tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, period-typical topics (marriage is everything, gender roles, all that stuff), daphne being match maker as always, kissing, it gets briefly suggestive like once, if i skipped anything please let me know. note: i started this show two days ago and i'm already halfway through season 2. i couldn't hold myself from writing whatever this is and i thought i'll share since it's the longest fic i've ever written. english is not my first language so writing in a way that resembles the show was a whole challenge for me!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

all masterlists | read on ao3

You and Anthony have been best friends for years now. Even when he's a few years older than you, the two of you became inseparable shortly after knowing one another. No one seems to know or understand you quite like he does, and you've become the person he always turns to when he needs someone.

It happened just a few months after you were introduced into society. You were lucky to bump into him that night in Ms. Danbury's ballroom, and after repeated apologies and quick introductions, you stayed with him for the rest of the event.

Your families were excited to see the two of you talking, already picturing the moment when he shows up to your house and asks for your hand in marriage. However, as time passed, it was evident for everyone that nothing was ever going to happen.

And as embarrassing as it is to admit, you were just as disappointed to realize Anthony considered you to be just a friend. From day one, you were absolutely captivated by him, and you truly thought he was as interested as you were. Unfortunately, it seems as though your feelings have never been –and never will be– reciprocated.

Of course, you never let that stop you from trying to find in others what you so effortlessly found in Anthony from the moment you laid eyes on him. It hasn't been easy, but you continue to look for that special someone.

Despite everyone knowing about your proximity to the Viscount, a fair share of suitors were always there available for you. Some move past the mere privilege of dancing with you if they prove to be interesting enough, but none of them have made it far enough.

Perhaps the search would be easier if you weren't deeply in love with your best friend, but there's no way you'll ever be able to control how you feel. You can't control the butterflies in your stomach when you notice him approaching you, or how it seems as though everyone around disappears when you two are together.

Anthony doesn't contribute to making your situation any easier. His friendship is one of the greatest gifts you've ever received, but it has caused you a great deal of pain and confusion. Even when he's nothing but your friend– even when he has confided in you many times that marriage is the last thing on his mind, you can't help but notice certain things. Certain gestures, certain stares...he has surely given you reasons to believe your feelings might be reciprocated.

One of the many things he does that inevitably lifts your hopes up is the fact that he absolutely despises every possible suitor you've ever had. Whether he claims to know them and they're the worst person imaginable, or he starts speculating based on his own prejudices, it seems as though no man is worthy of you in Anthony's eyes. You've always wondered why he's so adamant about that claim.

"There you are!" Daphne excitedly greeted you one evening at yet another social gathering. "I was afraid I'd miss the chance to spend even a moment with you tonight, considering how busy you seem to be with all your suitors," she smiles, quickly glancing across the room.

"Well, I could say the same thing. I've seen you dance for most of the night," you remark. "I bet your brother is furious."

"Oh, believe me, he is! But I'm not the only one he's concerned about," her smile only grows after her insinuation. It's no secret that Daphne has always hoped for you to officially join their family, as she's convinced her brother is ridiculously in love with you. "I was only able to escape from him because he couldn't stop telling Benedict just how awful the men you were dancing or talking to are."

"He does have that habit, yes. Poor Benedict," you joke, turning around to spot the two brothers still talking.

Before Daphne could say a thing, a man approached the two of you. As you laid eyes on him, you recognized him as the first gentleman you had a dance with tonight. Both of you smiled at him as he extended his hand your way. "May I have another dance with you, my lady?"

You look at Daphne, who quickly takes a step back to let you know you can go. He gently grabs your hand once you've accepted his invitation, guiding you to the dance floor.

Mr. Demrick is a fine gentleman. He's been nothing but kind, charming and attentive, not to mention he's ridiculously handsome. This isn't the first evening you two have crossed paths, having the honor of dancing a few times before. He seems to have a strong interest in you. Your Mama has expressed many times that it's a matter of time before he's asking for your hand.

You do, however, notice a big flaw in this seemingly perfect man. He's no Anthony Bridgerton.

And speaking of, as you're dancing with Mr. Demrick's hand on your back and the other gently holding one of your own, you can't help but notice Anthony exactly where he once was. He's already looking your way and even from a distance you notice he's as stiff as ever, arms crossed, muttering things to Benedict.

It leaves you to wonder once again if he's being protective over his friend or if there's a deeper meaning to his apparent disgust for all the men that have ever shown interest in you.

After that night, Mr. Demrick's interest in you was more evident than ever. All Daphne could talk about with Lady Bridgerton and your Mama during supper the next day was the different bouquet of flowers he sent you and how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

"Needless to say, I'm very happy for you," Daphne seems to be finished with her talk about the flowers, turning to look at you from across the table. "You two make a very lovely match."

"No doubt you'll be very happy with such a nice and handsome gentleman for a husband," Lady Bridgerton agrees.

Everyone quickly turns to look at Anthony when he lets out a quick chuckle, looking down at his food and pretending he was barely listening.

"Something wrong, Anthony?" Lady Bridgerton asks shortly after with a rather serious tone.

He finally looks up, smiling at his mother. "Not at all. Please, continue with your...delightful chat."

You glared at him and despite you trying to ignore it, something deep within you made it impossible not to say something else regarding Mr. Demrick just to upset Anthony further. "He has invited my family to a picnic to meet his own," you say, noticing the way your best friend immediately turns to look at you with a horrified expression.

"We're really looking forward to that," your mother chimes in, trying to keep the conversation going after Anthony's interruption.

"Cheers to that!" Eloise exclaimed ironically, and you noticed she was looking directly at her eldest brother. "A man brave enough to pursue the heart of a lady is always a reason to celebrate, right?"

Now it was Colin and Benedict the ones who couldn't hold back their laughter after noticing their brother's reaction to that comment.

"What's so funny?" Hyacinth asks, looking impossibly confused.

Eloise's comment evidently made everything a lot worse. Little Gregory joins his sister in their inquiry to know what was going on, until Lady Bridgerton ordered them to stay quiet.

You didn't like El's insinuation one bit, as it does nothing to help with your delusions, but at least you were appreciative of the fact that she was willing to be with you on this one despite her disgust towards the whole idea of marriage and the position a woman is put in because of it. Perhaps she's willing to overlook that detail for the sake of upsetting one of her siblings.

As soon as dinner was over, Anthony offered to accompany you and your mother outside to your carriage. You didn't protest, and quickly calmed Daphne and Lady Bridgertons worries after they started apologizing fervently for his behavior during the evening.

Anthony immediately knew you were upset. It was evident in the way you walked in complete silence without acknowledging he was there next to you.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?" Anthony asks as soon as the three of you are outside the Bridgerton home.

"Is it okay? If you're too tired we can leave right away."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. I'll wait in the carriage," your Mama replies. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, but there's no need," she quickly added when Anthony offered his arm to help her walk down the steps of the entrance. "Please reiterate my gratitude to my dear Violet for having us today."

"Of course," he nodded, returning your Mama's smile. Even when he behaves rather poorly, your mother absolutely adores him. It warms your heart to see how good they get along.

Your Mama walks to the carriage, leaving you and Anthony alone. "I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"I don't think your apologies are sincere."

"I don't know what else do you expect, if I'm being honest," he replies, and immediately knows he has to say something because of your reaction to that comment. "That man is not a good match for you. He's not on your level, and I'm quite certain that he won't be able to make you happy."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know when someone is not right for you."

You scoffed. "No one ever seems to be good enough for me."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"Can't you just be happy for me? Or at least pretend that you are?" you ask, exasperated. It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, but to stand here and claim to be your best friend when he acts like this is something entirely different. Something you can't and won't stand for. "I don't understand why you have to try to ruin every chance I get to find someone."

"Because," he says sternly, as if it was obvious. But is it really that obvious? Is it obvious to you, or even to him?

A dim light of hope shines through in the depths of your heart, knowing very well how dangerous that has been in the past. "Because what?"

He stood there in front of you, looking rather troubled. You notice the way he hesitates and for a moment you almost could've sworn he wanted to take a step closer to you.

But that never happened, and instead all you got was a "because you're my best friend, and I care about you," from him. The same thing you've heard over and over. That godforsaken phrase that has shattered your heart into million pieces over the years.

You try to hide your disappointment, looking up at him with a stern glance. "If I'm truly your best friend, you'd support my decisions instead of brutally questioning them like you always do."

With that said, you didn't wait for any sort of answer as you quickly walked towards your carriage, barely acknowledging your driver and your mother as you headed back home.

Anthony watches as you walk away, once again feeling like a complete fool for not saying something else. For not daring to take that extra step and reveal the real reason why he won't accept anyone else as your husband. It's quite simple, really. The real reason is that he wants to be the one you marry.

But he didn't say anything yet again, and all that's left for him to do is go back inside his house to listen to Eloise and Daphne calling him a fool while the rest agree with them. He doesn't say much about their claims, as they couldn't possibly be more true.

This is exactly what he deserves for acting so cowardly. He gets shamed by his siblings for not doing something about his feelings while you go home, probably thinking about that absurd picnic with Mr. Demrick until you go to sleep.

Next day, you try to forget all about Anthony Bridgerton and focus on your date with Mr. Demrick. Your families were sitting around all together while he asked if you would like to take a walk with him.

He's lovely. Offering his arm for you, complimenting you every chance he gets, making you laugh with his endless anecdotes and quick remarks. He's everything you should need, yet your mind wanders back to your best friend. You can't help it. All you want is for him to be the one kissing your hand and telling you you're the most captivating sight of all.

Your Mama could barely hold her excitement when she read what Lady Whistledown had to say about you and Mr. Demrick after the families were seen spending time together. "The union of the season", she called it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as both of you come from wealthy and respected families. It's evident everyone takes a great interest in the possible union.

Still, you were very much intimidated by it, as all eyes will be on you until there's news about an engagement.

And just as you predicted, every lady turned to look at you as you went to visit the modist for a new dress for the next ball. You must look absolutely perfect to earn the approval of everyone and capture Mr. Demrick's heart for good.

At that point, the realization finally started to settle. You're soon becoming a wife, moving to your own home and starting a family. And all of that with a man that you respect and care for, but are incapable of loving.

But perhaps this arrangement will make your feelings for Anthony become nothing but a memory. A memory you won't even care to think about when you have such a wonderful husband by your side.

Days passed and Mr. Demrick continued to send all sorts of gifts to your house. You made the choice of inviting him over so the two of you could spend more time together before the next ball. He was sitting on a couch with your mother while you played the piano for them.

"That was certainly a very beautiful performance," he says once you're done playing. "And you said you composed that yourself?"

"Indeed. I like spending my days playing the piano," you smile brightly.

The entire reunion was quickly ruined when someone burst inside the room. You turn around in your seat to find Anthony standing there, barging in completely unannounced and unexpectedly. It was unclear to you why you felt the need to stand up from your seat to greet him but you did, feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest at the sight of him.

Oh, how badly you've missed him.

"What are you doing here, Anthony?" you ask, immediately remembering your soon-to-be fiancée and your mother are also in the room. "I'm afraid I'm with a guest right now. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait, my lord."

You never call him that, ever. It was evident by his reaction that he absolutely hated the fact that you refer to him as such.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to disrupt, but I believe it's an urgent matter."

"My lord, I–"

"I must insist," he quickly cuts you off, looking rather desperate.

You try to come up with something to say, knowing you should stand your ground and make him leave, but you were so happy to be in his presence again that the feelings completely clouded your judgment.

"No worries, my lady," you hear Mr. Demrick say, standing up from his seat and sending you a reassuring smile. "I'm sure whatever Lord Bridgerton is here for requires your immediate attention, given his insistence," he added shortly after, giving Anthony a not so friendly look. "I'm sure we can visit the gardens while we wait?"

Your mother nodded after his question. "Of course. That should be more than enough time for Lord Bridgerton to communicate his urgent matter."

Neither Mr. Demrick nor your mother were pleased by Anthony's presence, but you couldn't thank them enough from sparing you this one time. You know this man like no one else does, and you're certain that he wouldn't take a no for an answer and that would've made the situation a lot worse.

"Perfect," Mr. Demrick says before gesturing for your mother to lead the way. Before he leaves the room, he gives Anthony one last look before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps we should discuss where you'd like your new piano to be in our future home once I'm back. I'd love for my wife to continue doing what she enjoys, especially when she's so extraordinary at it."

You smile after his comment, trying your best not to look at Anthony until Mr. Demrick is officially gone because you can imagine his features are clearly expressing his thoughts regarding that last comment. Once both of them are out of sight, you finally look at him.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped almost immediately. "I'm glad Mr. Demrick is a patient and understanding man! He could've easily decided to leave the very instant you walked through that door demanding to have a word with me."

"I think he's captivated enough, my dear. I doubt you'll ever get rid of him," he replies, evidently disgusted by the thought of him.

"I don't intend to get rid of him. And do not call me that again."

"Why not? I've always called you that."

"That was before I met Mr. Demrick. Now, it is completely inappropriate."

"Oh, please. It's not like you're already his wife."

"But I will be soon," you point out. He's quiet after that, which gives you room to continue talking. "You must understand that a married woman cannot have other men calling her such things."

"So am I supposed to start addressing you like you're nothing but a stranger? Or perhaps you'd like me to already start calling you Mrs. Demrick? Is that how things will go? You marry this insufferable man and I have to just accept the fact that I no longer have my best friend?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say," you mutter, feeling like you could cry any minute now. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

"It was never supposed to be this way," he sighs, and your soul aches for him when you notice the way he's looking at you. Defeated, exhausted, disappointed, frustrated. You've never seen this particular mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes before.

"And how exactly it was supposed to be?"

Anthony was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You see his hesitation once again and you brace yourself to hear yet another confirmation of the fact that you're nothing but a friend. It doesn't matter that he glances at you from across the room like he can't help himself. It doesn't matter that all the Bridgerton siblings have made insinuations about you and Anthony's relationship. It's all in your head, because you're nothing but a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, you watch as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's cautious of every move, not wanting to scare you– or himself. The beat of your heart speeds up and your hands shake slightly when he's finally in front of you.

You look up at him like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, but in this case you're unable to run away for your life. He's dangerously close to you, gently moving his hand up to touch your face.

The second his fingers brush against your cheek, a shiver travels down your spine and you can't help but close your eyes because his touch is absolutely heavenly. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his digits trace down your neck until his hand settles there, holding you with his fingers behind your ear and his thumb still caressing the skin of your face.

"It should go like this," he whispers, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you with such adoration, you were certain your legs could betray you any second now and completely give in, causing you to fall straight to the ground.

He leans slightly closer after seconds of just contemplating you, and even though you closed your eyes again, feeling his nose brushing against yours, you're able to snap out of your trance before he could actually kiss you.

"It's not right..." you're able to say, pulling back from him but not nearly enough. He's still very much holding you.

"It is, my dear. I can tell you wish for this as badly as I do."

"Please, Anthony..." you try, but your body betrays you when your hand is resting on his bicep.

"I've always adored the way my name sounds when it's you the one calling me," he confesses, and your stomach fills with butterflies.

You realize he's leaning closer again, but before he can do so you manage to gather all traces of self-control that were almost stripped from you to move back, setting free of his touch.

Anthony stands there, absolutely confused and heartbroken, and is right then when you can't keep your tears in any longer.

"I'm afraid it is too late," you mutter. This has got to be the most painful thing you'll ever have to do. "I'm getting engaged soon."

"But you're not anyone's yet. There's still time if you haven't accepted any proposals."

"Please, don't make this any harder than it should be," you sob, wiping your tears away.

"Darling–"

"Believe me, no one would want this more than me," you interrupted. "You have no idea how many times I've found myself fantasizing about this very moment. For you to say all of this, to be yours forever..." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks and the sight is too much for Anthony to endure, as his own eyes are starting to fill with tears as well. "But it is not possible anymore. I'm sorry, I really am. I won't ask you to understand or accept my decision, but I'd appreciate that you can at least respect it."

"I won't. I refuse to let you marry someone else when we both know we belong together."

"Anthony, Mr. Demrick–"

"You still can't even call your future husband by his own name?"

You sigh, frustrated. "Charlie will become my husband. I don't doubt that he'll be an excellent companion, and that you'll find someone else in time. Soon enough, we'll be nothing but a memory."

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, and your heart sinks when you notice his voice breaking slightly.

You take a few seconds to answer. Of course that's not what you want. You want Anthony to be your husband. You'll always want him and him only. But it's already too late for any of that.

Feeling more heartbroken than ever before, you have to look back at Anthony and fight the urge to run to his arms. "Yes. And I also want you to leave."

Anthony was barely keeping it together, not wanting to cry in front of you. He's once again taking a few steps closer to you, but stops at a reasonable distance to grab your hand to kiss it. "Very well, my lady," he says with a quick bow of his head. "I apologize for wasting so much of your time. Let me assure you, I'll never bother you again."

He let your hand go and immediately turned to the door to leave. As soon as you no longer hear his footsteps, you fall to your knees and allow yourself to cry, feeling like the sorrows from this conversation will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Knowing Mr. Demrick and your mother could be here any minute, you decided to stand up from the ground as soon as you could to lock yourself in your room, where you could be away from everyone for a while until you feel ready to go downstairs and pretend you're content with this life that you've chosen for yourself today.

You really know you shouldn't, as you've played a part just as big as his in the downfall of everything you could've had together, but you can't help it as you curse Anthony for taking so long. You curse him for deciding to do something about his affection for you when it's far too late. And most importantly, you curse him because despite knowing it's over, you are certain that there's nothing you can do to ever get over your feelings for him.

As soon as you realize you're being unfair by putting all the blame on him, you also curse yourself for being as blind and coward as he was. And you curse life itself while you're at it, because you feel like making everyone and everything responsible for not being able to live the life that you wanted.

―

It's been a few days after the last time you and Anthony spoke. Just days, but it has felt like years and years without him. He hasn't reached out to you, and you couldn't deny that not having him around was absolute torture. There was no greater pain than this.

But you were hopeful that you could see him again at tonight's ball. It was all you could think about as you were getting ready.

"You look lovely, sister," the youngest of your family says, watching as one of the maids is finishing with your hair. "I can't wait to join all of you next season!"

"Thank you, my dearest," you smile at her. "I cannot wait for that either. Perhaps I can help you choose your dress and do your hair for your first ball."

"Yes, please!"

Your youngest sister stayed in your room with you until it was time for everyone to leave. Your father waited by the door while your mother put all of your siblings in line to check their appearance and make sure everyone was looking flawless.

Like the Bridgertons, your family was also quite large. Your older sister is already married so she no longer lives with you, but your parents still have a handful of children to take care of. Your two older brothers haven't married yet and neither have you. There's also your little sister, who's debuting next season, and your baby brother who's barely ten years old.

To this day, you have no idea how they were able to handle the chaos that six children can bring. For that, you admire them deeply.

Once your mother made sure everything was in order, you and your brothers followed her and your father to the carriage. They start a conversation, but you're barely paying any attention, as Anthony is keeping your head occupied again.

Eventually, you reach the residence where the ball's taking place and the five of you make your way inside. As all of you are standing outside the doors of the hall where the event is taking place, you feel a hand reaching out to grab yours. You turn around to look at your mother staring at you with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," you say out of nowhere, though it's practically the only thing you've been able to say to her lately.

"You made the right choice, dear," she reassures you. "Are you ready?"

You nod, inhaling deeply before your mother lets go of you, standing with your father as they wait for you to take the first step. As soon as all of you are entering the room, you notice everyone staring your way, their eyes still filled with expectancy and excitement.

They still believe you're going to marry Mr. Demrick.

You quickly scan the room as you walk down the stairs, the familiar feeling in your stomach appearing when you spot Anthony along with his siblings, his eyes never once leaving you. Despite everything that has happened, he still looks at you like you're the only person in that room.

Your parents go off one way to mingle with other parents attending the event while your siblings scatter around the ballroom to greet their friends and find possible matches.

Having a chance to talk to Anthony was the only reason you decided to attend. Still, you didn't know how and when it'd be okay for you to approach him. Things didn't end on the best of terms, so it's normal for you to have your doubts.

Instead of immediately approaching him, you walk around the room, never losing sight of him. You couldn't help but smile to yourself the first time you catch him looking around the room, unsuccessful to locate you.

"I was hoping to see you tonight," you hear Daphne's voice next to you, sending you back to reality. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, so do you."

Your friend smiles at you, briefly looking to where you previously were. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, not at all," you immediately shake your head, imitating her smile.

"I apologize for what I'm about to say. I don't believe it is the time nor place, but I cannot hold myself back," she says with obvious concern as her smile is replaced with a frown. "My brother told me everything that happened the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am."

"Oh, Daphne, that's really not necessary..."

"But I think it is. As ashamed as this makes me, I'm afraid I was the one responsible for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice the way you two look at each other, or the way you smile when you're together. Believe me, I've never seen my dear brother so infatuated with anyone else before. To see you slip away from him and him doing nothing about it was not only painful, but it angered me enough to intervene," she explains. "After much convincing to do, I finally made him realize he needed to do something about his feelings. Evidently, I stood out of line and got myself involved in something I never should have, and for that I'm terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. I know you had good intentions. There's absolutely nothing to forgive."

Daphne reaches out for your hands, relief evident in her features. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me again. You had all the right to do so, but I'm happy to see I was mistaken."

"I would never do such a thing."

She nodded, glad to know you two are still friends. "Well, with that situation out of the way, allow me to say I'm still very happy about you and Mr. Demrick. My love for my brother won't change the fact that I support your decision entirely."

You debated whether or not to say something, but the hesitation quickly slipped your mind when you looked at Daphne. She's been a great friend, you know there's nothing wrong with confessing this news to her.

She looks a bit confused when you grab her arm to guide her to a corner of the room, as far away from other people as possible. "I appreciate your words, but I'm afraid Mr. Demrick and I are no longer courting."

"Really? Did my imprudence make him change his mind?" she asks, worried she was to blame for this.

"Not at all. He actually proposed to me that very same evening."

"And...you said no?"

"I couldn't marry him, Daphne," you sighed. You'll never forgive yourself from breaking a good man's heart in the way you did with him, but deep down you knew it was the right thing to do. "I couldn't doom him to spend the rest of his life with a woman that doesn't love him the way he deserves."

"I don't judge you for it. My Mama has always taught us that marriage should be formed out of love. It's the only way a union like this can work," you friend offers, immediately wanting to show her support.

"If anything, my dear friend, I should be thanking you for your intervention," you quickly add. "If you never had that chat with your brother, I would've been engaged to a different man by now."

"I...Oh my, are you–?"

"I was as much of a fool as him. I could've said something a long time ago and yet I remained silent. And when he went to my house to give us a chance, I was once again deciding not to do a thing about my feelings. It was only when he left that I realized I made a terrible mistake."

Daphne is once again reaching for your hands, looking more excited than ever after your words. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say all of this."

"You don't think it's too late, do you? I came here to talk to him, after all."

"No, no, not at all! He was devastated when he came back, I've never seen him like that in my life. We got to talk a little– and it's probably best if he's the one who confesses his true feelings in detail to you personally, but there's no doubt in my mind that from everything he said to me, he's deeply, madly and truly in love with you."

"I assure you I love him just as much."

"I don't doubt it either. And I think I speak for all my family when I say there's no one else we would like to be Anthony's wife but you."

"That makes me so happy to hear," you say with obvious excitement. Even Daphne looked like she could start crying any second. "Should I go talk to him now?"

"Please, I'm sure you can't wait any longer! He's over there, with Benedict and Colin."

"I shall tell you how it goes then."

"It'll go wonderful," she assures you, giving you one last smile before she allows you to leave.

Every second of that walk towards Anthony felt like centuries. Your mind spins with all the possible scenarios and everything you're going to say to him, but by the time you're in front of the three siblings your mind is completely blank.

"Gentlemen," was all you could say. The three of them immediately greet you with a quick bow. You notice Benedict and Colin exchanging looks, while Anthony's eyes are fixated on you. "I'd like to have a word with you– alone, if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady," was all he said.

"Oh my, you could cut the tension with a knife," Colin says suddenly. Anthony is so focused on you he barely acknowledges his comment.

"Shush, brother!" Benedict quickly warns, lightly pushing his little brother so he would start walking. "Excuse us," he smiled your way, starting to follow Colin.

You and Anthony are finally alone, but the people around you are still bothering you. "Is it okay if we go outside for a walk?"

"If it's okay with you," he says, a bit confused at first since you two had apparently agreed that you must keep your distance.

Anthony follows you to the gardens in complete silence. The music and chatter could still be heard. You were glad to realize it was only the two of you outside.

"What is it that you wanted to say to me?" he immediately asks, starting to walk next to you.

"I wanted to apologize for everything that happened."

"No need. Like you said, you made your choice and I'll have to respect it."

"It was the wrong choice. I see that now."

He was a bit surprised to hear that, but agreed with you nonetheless. "I'm afraid I can't say otherwise. At least I hope you find comfort in the fact that Mr. Demrick will be a fine husband, as you so fervently claim."

The two of you have reached a part of the garden that surrounds the two of you with large hedges decorated with beautiful flowers. It was then that you stopped walking and turned to look at him, knowing no one would be able to see or interrupt you here.

"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Demrick proposed and I said no," you blurted out simply, not wanting to keep it from him any longer.

"Why?" was all he could say.

"Because," you say, and this time it was painfully obvious.

Anthony couldn't believe your revelation at first, which would explain why he didn't move from his spot at first. As the realization of it all starts to sink in, he immediately walks closer to you and grabs your face with his hands. This time, you let him touch you as your hands move up to place them above his own.

"You're not marrying him?" he asks, barely above a whisper, still not entirely believing it. He really thought he had lost you forever.

You shake your head, unable to hold back your smile any longer. "There's only one man I'd like to marry."

Anthony smiles wider than ever after your comment and he's not able to control himself any longer, immediately closing the space between the two of you as he kisses you.

His kiss is everything you expected and more. So gentle, yet so passionate. It makes you feel like you're the most delicate thing in the entire world, but he must take a taste, so he does eagerly, yet carefully.

The moment doesn't last as much as you expected as he's abruptly pulling away. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have done that."

He takes a step back but he's gladly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck to stop him. "Don't," you immediately say, "I want you close."

"I really shouldn't, my dear," he insisted, but you can tell it takes everything in him not to kiss you again at that very same moment.

"Is that so?" you tease him, inching just enough. "So you won't continue to kiss me? Not even if I'm so clearly desperate for you to do so?"

He's really trying to remind himself to be a gentleman. "I don't...it's not appropriate."

"Alright, them. It's perfectly fine, Mr. Bridgerton," you promptly agree, moving back from him entirely as you start walking away from him. "Perhaps we should go back then, before anyone notices our absence."

You're barely able to turn around to face him before he's one again in front of you, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss is anything but gentle. His tongue explores your mouth with a hunger completely unknown to you as his hands explore your body. The hand previously holding the back of your neck trails your collarbone before it explores further down, cupping one of your breasts while the other holds you close to his body, resting dangerously close to your ass.

His lips move down to your jaw until they settle on the skin of your neck. You close your eyes as you enjoy the way he explores you, a few moans escaping past your lips that only seem to encourage him further.

"Anthony," you whisper into the darkness of the night, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he kisses all over your neck.

"You're such a delight, my love," he mutters against your skin. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He moves back to your lips now, your mind clouded with desire for him and making it impossible for you to think of anything else other than how badly you need him to continue to touch you and kiss you. You could never get tired of this.

But much to your disappointment, he's pulling away from you again shortly after. His forehead rests against yours as both of you are gasping for air. You open your eyes when he's no longer leaning against you, just to catch him looking down at you with a smile.

"You're so beautiful," he comments, one of his fingers tracing your lower lip. "I could kiss these lips all day if I could."

"And I'd have no complaints about that."

He chuckles after your comment before taking a second to contemplate your beauty under the moonlight. "I deeply regret wasting so much time we could've spent as husband and wife."

"We have many years to make amends for that."

"Is that so?" he asks with a smile, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

"Well, that is if you ask for my hand."

"We'll go back to the ball and I'll talk to your father right away."

You fake to be offended by his comment. "Without asking for my opinion on the matter, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Forgive me, how rude of me," he follows along with your theatrics, but you immediately notice the shift in his eyes before he continues. They look softer than ever and shine as bright as all the stars in the sky combined. And you feel warm, at peace, so loved by the man standing before you. "My dearest, from the moment I met you, I knew we were destined to be together. You not only captivated me with your beauty, but with everything that you are. And as I started to know you, you kept proving me right. I saw it in the way you'd stay practicing your music for hours with such intent and passion. I saw it in the way you care so deeply about the ones fortunate enough to have you in their lives. I saw it in the way my mother instantly adored you, and how Hyacinth wouldn't stop asking me to invite you over so she could play with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me."

You were completely speechless, absolutely mesmerized by his words. He takes a moment to gently wipe a few tears falling down your cheeks. He has always said to you how he's terrible at things like this, yet here he is proving himself wrong.

"If all previous words hold any room for confusion, allow me to clear it all right away. I've been yours from the moment we met and I couldn't possibly be more in love with you. And there's nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you," he continues, finally taking a step back to grab both of your hands as he kneels in front of you. "Would you make me the honor of accepting me as your husband?"

You couldn't stop smiling at that point, immediately nodding after his question. "Yes. Now and forever, it'll always be yes."

Anthony kisses both of your hands before standing up to pull you in for a hug. "It pleases me to hear you accept. For a moment, I feared the tears were a bad sign."

You laugh at his little joke before breaking the hug. "Perhaps we should get back. I'm afraid we've been gone for quite a while now."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem now that we're engaged. I shall ask to have a word with your father as soon as we get back– and ask my mother for her ring."

"Is it okay if I inform Daphne?"

"I have absolutely no objections if you decide to announce the news to every person inside that ballroom, my love. Let everyone know you'll be the next Viscountess. Nothing would make me happier."

He offers his arm and you immediately accept it, starting to walk back to the ball with him– your future husband. At that very moment, you've sworn you've never been happier.

[goldenwilliamson]

winners and losers | leah williamson

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: bit of an angsty one where leah and matildas!reader play against each other in an england v aus friendly (based on that one in april this year) where england lose. leah blames herself. reader takes on sam kerr's position lol. the goals and the game is based on this game if interested

word count: 2.5k

When you found out that a friendly had been scheduled between Australia and England, you and Leah had initially felt excited. It wouldn't be the first time you two had come up against each other in your national teams, and it sure wouldn't be the last. Something about playing against each other lit a fire in your belly. It made you both want to be performing at your highest level, almost showing off to the other about how well you can play for your country.

You had also recently been made the captain of the Matildas, something that made Leah immensely proud.

"I can't believe we get to do a coin toss together," you had told Leah when you first found out about the Australia v England game.

"That's what you're most looking forward to? The coin toss?" Your girlfriend laughed at you.

"I've never done one with you before!" You defend yourself.

"You're a bit cute you know?" Leah poked fun at you.

"I'm also looking forward to seeing you in your England kit with the armband on," you said.

"Mm, do you have a thing for captains or something?" Leah said.

"I do when it's you," you told her, which made her laugh.

"Well I for one can't wait to see you as captain, baby," she kissed you as she said this.

—

People often asked about how you deal with playing against your girlfriend, and you always said the same thing: "In football there's got to be a winner and a loser, and we both know that."

You and Leah were well equipped to deal with losses and to support each other no matter the outcome. You were professionals, and you loved each other enough to not let the result of a 90 minute game impact your relationship.

The day rolled around that the Matildas would be playing the Lionesses, and you and Leah hadn't seen each other for a few days while you were both in camp. You exchanged a few texts in the morning, wishing each other luck, and promising to see each other when the game was over.

It was an important game for the Matildas. The Lionesses had been on a winning streak since Sarina Wiegman became their manager, making them one of the toughest teams to beat in the world. The Matildas were also trying to strengthen the depth of their side, bringing in younger players in the lead up to the World Cup. It was going to be a difficult game, and they knew it.

As kick off approached you felt the electricity of walking into the stadium alongside England players at a home game. Even though the crowd wasn't there for you team, you still felt the excitement as you walked out side by side with Leah as the captains. You went through the pre-match process of the anthems and then the coin-toss and exchange of the pennants with Leah. She had already adopted her stern game face. You looked in her eyes, feeling slightly disconnected from her, knowing the stakes were so high for your team.

Before you split to get in position you and Leah shook hands and before you stepped away she pulled you close so she could speak into you ear.

"Looking good captain," she said, stepping out of her professionalism for a moment, finally smirking and letting her serious exterior relax. You laughed for a second, having been caught off guard.

"Are you trying to throw me off?" You say playfully and she shrugs her shoulders innocently before patting your cheek and running off to her spot in the back line.

You smile as you move to your space on the pitch as the striker. Then the ref blew the whistle and the game was underway.

Australia held up well against the strength of the Lionesses, maintaining possession and creating some chances. But it was in the last quarter of the first half when things started to fall into place. Clare Hunt sends the ball forward and you can see that it's going to fall in a prime position for you. As Australia's leading goal scorer you knew what had to be done, and you started to run for it. Leah saw what was happening and began to run too, racing you to the ball.

Leah knew that you only needed one shot and you would put the ball in, and with the mounting pressure she attempted to header the ball back towards Mary, but incidentally ended up planting the ball right at your feet. You heard her wince as you saw the opportunity for the goal open up right in front of you.

Even though you knew it was a major blunder on Leah's behalf, you seized the moment, you chipped the ball over Mary with ease and watched as it hit the back of the net.

As you turned around to celebrate you caught one quick look at the disappointment on your girlfriends face before you were surrounded by your teammates. It was an important goal in an important match. You knew that the goal was gifted to you by Leah, and she would no doubt be regretting it for the rest of the game, but you couldn't have let that opportunity go.

At half time Tony assured you all that you could come out of this match on top. You were up 1 point against an undefeated team, and now you just had to maintain the ground that you've already covered.

The second half continued with little luck for England who seemed unable to get a strong shot on target. But on your side, another chance opened up in the 67th minute. You were running out on the right when the ball came to you, and glancing into the box you saw some yellow jerseys and sent the ball in. Charli Grant found it and sent it into the net, giving Australia a 2 point lead as you entered the final leg of the game.

At this point excitement was bubbling, and you and your team were fired up, knowing it was all about holding onto the lead now. And as the game drew to a close, you had managed to do so. At the final whistle the result was 2-0 to Australia.

You and your team celebrated, knowing this win was a massive achievement, especially in the lead up to the World Cup. Your teammates praised you for your goal and for your assist in the second goal. As you started to shake hands with the England players, many of whom you had a great relationship, you struggled to find your girlfriend.

You scanned the blue jerseys and saw she was almost on the other side of the pitch to you, speaking to Georgia and looking like she was giving herself a hard time. Warily, you jogged over.

"Hey," you said tentatively, and Leah hardly even looked at you.

"Good work mate," Georgia said, giving you a hug,

"Thanks G, you too," you said, beginning to feel awkward as Leah remained quiet.

"You alright?" You looked at your girlfriend with concern and she shook her head. You tried to touch her shoulder reassuringly, but she slinked away from you.

"I need a minute," Leah said bluntly, leaving you to stand with Georgia, feeling useless, unable to console your upset girlfriend.

"Did you get a word out of her?" You ask Georgia.

"Yeah, she'll be alright. I think she just feels guilty about that giving away that ball to you," Georgia explains. Of course, you think. You knew in the moment that her mistake would weigh on her, but you didn't expect it to be this bad.

"Yeah, okay. Well I'll give her some space I guess," you tell Georgia.

"That might be a good idea for now," Georgia affirms, patting you on the back.

You make your way back towards your teammates, shaking your head, feeling the pride of your win being overshadowed by Leah's disappointment in herself. The team circles up and Tony gives the team the praise they deserve, but your eyes wander around the pitch, watching Leah. You see her talk to her team mates, gesturing frustratedly, looking like she is taking the responsibility for their loss.

Before all the England players make their way off the pitch you decide you have to talk to her before you get on the bus back to your hotel, not wanting to leave her in a bad way. You jog over to her and grab hold of her wrist.

"Lee," you say as you she turns to face you.

She sighs, "Look I'm just in my head. I'll get out of there soon, but I just need some space, okay?"

Your heart breaks slightly, but you let go of her arm and say you understand.

With practiced ease she takes your hands in hers and kisses your knuckles, "I'm proud of you," she clarifies, "I'm just annoyed with myself."

"Alright," you take a deep breath, "Call me when you're feeling up to it."

She nods and leaves you standing alone as she follows her teammates back to the change room. Steph Catley notices you by yourself, having watch the interaction between you and Leah and she heads your way.

"Come on superstar," she hugs you from behind, "She'll be okay."

"Thanks Stephy," you smile, feeling glad to have players around who knew both you and Leah so well.

On the bus on the way back to the hotel, you put your headphones on as you mindlessly scroll through instagram, seeing all the posts about the game you just played.

A clip of your goal appears and you watch it a couple of times before clicking into the comments.

Williamson suddenly forgets how to defend when it's her missus

Such bad defending you'd think they planned it

Leah was hoping she could give her girlfriend a goal and England would still win... bad luck girls

Leah Williamson, the Matildas 12th player tonight

First Lionesses loss because Williamson was too distracted by Y/L/N

You cringe as your read them and quickly swipe out of the criticism of Leah. You rub your face with your hands, feeling upset that Leah will no doubt be reading all this too.

You take your headphones off and turn to Steph, who had sat next to you on the bus trip.

"Should I at least send Leah a text?" You ask her.

"I don't think it would hurt," Steph shrugs.

"I've just been reading the worst comments about her defending, and I feel like it's my fault," you explain.

"Y/N, it's not your fault. This is your job and it's Leah's job too. Obviously it's a shock to lose for the first time in a while, and she'll be carrying the weight of the loss because of one little mistake she made, but in the grand scheme of things it's nothing new, it's just football. She'll realise that," Steph says.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Steph," you say, squeezing her thigh gratefully.

You pull your phone back out and open your messages to Leah and begin typing:

I'm sorry you're carrying the weight of this loss Leah. I know it doesn't feel good, and I hate that I played a part in you feeling this way. I know it's easier said than done but don't let one mistake make you doubt yourself. You're an immensely talented player, a wonderful captain, and the best partner I could ask for. I'm here for you when you need me. Love you xxx

You send it off without a second thought and allow your head to rest against the window of the bus until you arrive back at the hotel. You check your phone once you get to your room, but still there's no response from Leah. Switching your phone off, you set it down and decide to go to sleep, hoping Leah might get back to you throughout the night.

—

In the morning you check your phone and there is still no reply from Leah. You groan into your pillow, hating to not be on good terms with your girlfriend. You pull yourself out of bed and pack your things up before heading downstairs to say goodbye to all the girls flying back to their clubs.

You organise an Uber back to your apartment in North London, unsure about whether or not Leah would be there already. When you open the door you can hear the sounds of footsteps upstairs in your bedroom and you feel yourself tense up slightly.

You shut the front door behind you set your bags down. You glance into the kitchen as you start to walk upstairs and see a bouquet of flowers still wrapped up in paper laying on the counter, which is reassuring. If Leah was mad there's no way she would've stopped for flowers on the way home.

When you walk into your bedroom you find Leah hanging up clothes in the wardrobe. She turns and faces you with a nervous face.

"Hey," she says, setting down the shirt in her hands on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" You ask.

"Like the worst girlfriend in the world," she sinks into the end of the bed now and you move to sit down on the bed with her, tucking your feet up onto the mattress.

"I don't think you could do anything that would make you worthy of that title," you assure her.

"I don't know, I think being so selfish that you don't congratulate your girlfriend on winning a game is pretty shit."

"Leah, you weren't being selfish. You were disappointed and that's okay, losing sucks, especially when you've had as much success as you have."

"I was disappointed, but I shouldn't have acted like it was your fault, because it wasn't. I'm sorry for not talking to you, I promise I wanted to spend time with you after the game, but I chose to be a sook instead," Leah says and you laugh lightly.

"Poor Georgia had to mediate when you stormed off," you laugh.

"God, I was being proper stroppy," Leah scoffs.

"Well I'm glad you're feeling better now," you tell her, leaning in and finally getting the chance to kiss your girlfriend for the first time in days.

"Much better, and I'm sorry again," she says.

"It's alright. I'm used to Williamson tantrums, but usually I'm not on the receiving end," you say.

"And I promise you never will be again," she says, kissing you again.

"You're welcome for the goal by the way," Leah manages to make a joke of the situation, assuring you that all was fine.

"Yeah thanks, we needed that win," you laugh.

"Cheeky," Leah groans as she tackles you onto the mattress, seemingly ready to make up for her bad mood in another way.

[luveline]

hiiii, I miss Eddie and Roan so much. Could you write something about them pleaseee? ❤️❤️❤️

eddie and roan try not to fall asleep while (almost stepmom) reader bakes a tray of brownies, 1.5k

Eddie can't sit on the couch, he lays down. He has ever since he can remember, and while he tried to be polite when he first moved in (unlike Roan, who made herself at home delightfully quickly), you're way past that now. 

"You look uncomfortable," you fret, tilting your head to the side as you look down on him in concern. "You want a pillow?" 

"I want you to lay down with me immediately," he says, making grabby hands at your stomach. 

You refuse him with a stunning, angelic, beatific smile, the kind that makes him think fuck I should marry her, before he remembers he's already going to. If there's one thing about Eddie Munson, it's that he wholeheartedly believes that you're the prettiest woman he's ever met. Maybe you started that way, maybe he loves you so much you've metamorphosed into an intoxicating creature of good looks, but whatever it is, he's obsessed with it. 

"Lie down with me," he demands. 

"I'm gonna make little brownies," you say, shaking your head, "but I know someone for the job." 

He's half expecting you to scoop Mr. Porterson out of his tank and hand him to Eddie in a cup, but you head upstairs to Roan's bedroom. He can hear your voice through the floor, and his daughter's answering gasp. She all but runs down the stairs, demarcated by you and Eddie shouting the same thing, "Don't run down the stairs, Ro!" 

She's huffing and puffing by the time she gets to the living room, rounding the couch to stand in front of Eddie. "Hello," she huffs. "You need a hug?" 

Eddie opens his arm and drags her in. He should say something cheesy and loving, like, don't I always? He's not a super serious guy, but it's been on his mind a little more often as the wedding approaches and Roan gets taller how lucky he is to have you both, and how things could be totally different. He never expected to be a dad and he honestly didn't want to be before he saw her little face.

Eddie remembers picking her up when she was still smaller than his arm, two inexperienced hands under her armpits raising her up because he realised he could. 

Her legs scrunched up toward her chest and he thought, oh, my god. And now she clambers on his chest and does her pill bug curl with her knees, reminding him so much of her baby scrunch and the way her head smelled. He drapes a gentle arm behind her and tries to pour every ounce of love he possesses into his touch as he pats her shoulder, a steady thump, thump, thump. 

"You smell nice," Roan accuses. 

"That's weird. Maybe check again." 

She sniffs him. "You smell yummy, like Y/N's shampoo." 

He may have ran out of body wash, and he may have used a dollop of your shampoo. He doesn't think it'll matter in the grand scheme of things and all you're sharing, but he puts his finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispers, "don't tell." 

"You said I'm not supposed to have secrets," Roan says. 

"You're not." Eddie draws a line down her back just to hear her giggle. "Except this one." 

"That's what you said about the last one." 

"This one and that one, then." Not like she managed to keep that one secret, either. What was he thinking, telling his five year old he wanted to propose? She lost her mind aloud. 

Then again, she spilled the beans and you immediately told Eddie he had to move in with you (he can't remember it perfectly now, but he's pretty sure you said, 'I think you better move in', which was just bossy enough to have him falling in love twice over). 

"I don't like secrets," Roan says.

Her voice strengthens as she gets older, and her pronunciation of things grows smoother. Occasionally she speaks and she sounds much older than she is. Currently, she talks with a funny cadence, emphasis on things that don't need it and, and an underlying sense of awe like she can't believe what she's saying. 

"Fine," Eddie says, pulling her closer still, "we won't keep this one secret. But if she shouts at me I'm going to have to sleep in your room tonight." 

"I'll sleep with Y/N." 

"No, because I'll need you to dry my tears." 

Roan nods into his chest, the faux silk of her sleeve shushing against his shirt as she brings a hand up to his hair. "Okie dokie," she says, twisting one of his curls around her fingers. "But don't cry." 

"I'll try not to, sweetheart." 

She smiles and relaxes fully into his arms. 

"Are you tired?" he asks. 

"Don't think so." 

"You've already got your jammies on. You don't want a bath tonight?" He's feeling affectionate for his life, adding, "Mommy has new bubble bath, it smells like chamomile. I'm sure she'd love to share with you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Mm-hmm." His eyes are getting heavy. Maybe he's tired. The thought of a bubble bath almost puts him to sleep. 

"Don't fall asleep," Roan whispers. 

"I'm not, Ro. Just resting my eyes. You don't have to stay and cuddle if you're busy." 

"I like you," she says. 

"I like you too." 

— 

Little brownies are the best thing ever. You make a very wet brownie batter and pour it thin in a big baking sheet. You barely cook them, and then when they're cooled and cut you freeze them, and when they defrost (at a time of your choosing) they're perfect for eating or putting into Roan's school lunchbox. You set the last tupperware of them into the freezer and wipe your cold hands on a dish towel, happy. 

It's a bit strange, but before you met your Munsons, you had no idea how peaceful it could feel to have done something for someone else. You weren't an overly selfish creature but there's this unnameable feeling that comes with doing this kind of 'chore'. Taking care of the people you love… 

Well, it feels good. Not as good as this is about to feel, you guess, turning off the kitchen light and locking the front door as you go. Eddie and Roan lay on the couch with the TV set to a loud volume. You'd assumed they'd both be awake, but it seems they've fallen asleep despite the odds. You're gonna languish in it with them just as soon as you can tetris your way into the pile.

Roan has crawled up the length of her dad's chest to press her cheek to his, and Eddie's wrapped his arms around her tightly, tucking her in with nowhere to turn. 

You can't fit into their cuddle pile without disturbing the peace, but you can't be expected to abstain, surely. 

You sink down onto the floor by Eddie's head, bringing your hand to his sleeping face. Careful, you stroke a twisted baby hair against his forehead, the dark kink of it like a thread through pale skin. 

Roan stirs, or wasn't as asleep as you thought. She yawns wide, lips smacking as she asks, "What are you doing?" 

You grin at her loud whisper. "Just looking. You okay?" 

"He's squeezing me." 

"Too much?" 

"No, I like it. I feel like a sardine." 

"Yeah?" You rest your upper body on the couch, her pyjama top satiny under your hand. "You like it? You're not claustrophobic?" 

She gives you a daunted look.

"It means squished, pretty much," you say.. 

"I like it," she reaffirms. Roan pulls her arm out of Eddie's grasp to touch yours. "Dad says I can have some bubble bath." 

"Of course you can, princess. You know you can have anything of mine." Except the top shelf stuff, but she can't reach that high. "I left you some brownies for ice cream." 

"You did?" 

"Yeah, I did." You meet her eyes, formidable baby browns that you never stood a chance against. Her cheek is warm as you lean in for a quick peck. "You're beautiful. I love you." 

Roan gasps happily. "You're beautiful-er!" 

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, smirking as he starts to wake from his nap. 

"Time d'you call this, Eds?" you ask fondly. 

He turns his face one way and the other, agonised. "Oh, but I was so cozy! My girl is so soft and she's pretty much my blanket, and she was being so nice to me!" He sighs, a picture of distress, his voice croaky with the edge of sleep. "Can you ever forgive me?" 

"Sure!" Roan says, laughing. 

"Just this once." 

He squints at you. "This is pretty much your fault anyways." 

"You'll forgive me. Please?" He leans up for a kiss. "S'what I thought," you say into his lips.

You nudge him back and squeeze onto the couch. He has to go on his side for you to for and Roan ends up half on top of you, a knee jabbed into your stomach. Still, it's fine for now. Your quiet desire to be cuddled with them is abated, a strong arm behind your back and a much smaller hand sneaking inside your shirt sleeve to warm the attached, similarly small fingers. 

[giorno-plays-piano]

Favors and Debts

Part II

Pairing: fae!Yuji/Sukuna x reader

Warnings: noncon, yandere, a bit of smut, murder, captivity, stalking, violence (not towards reader), Sukuna having a purity kink.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Of all creatures fickle and cruel, the fair folk are the ones inspiring fear and awe alike. You were unlucky enough to save one of them from captivity, and now you must pay for it.

Part I

________________

He lied to you. Since the night he ordered all his captors slaughtered, he has been following you like a shadow, waiting for you to slip up and finally let him in. Have you drown in your nightmares until you'd crack under pressure and take down your door clad in iron, throw away the mirrors of all shapes and sizes hanging down the walls of your tiny apartment.

You have resisted thus far. You've learned to live with a wicked fae breathing down your neck.

At first, you only saw him in your dreams. A response to a severe trauma, the doctors said, nodding knowingly. You haven't told them Yuji was one of the little folk: it was futile. Men of science would think you damaged beyond repair if you believed in elves and fairies. An abused man dreaming of revenge for 7 long years? Now, this was something. Of course, he could have found accomplices. Of course, they could have murdered men and women of the village. You kept quiet, letting police and doctors make their own conclusions. Nothing could be done to help dead villagers, anyway.

Then, one day, the fae boy came to the apothecary, where you worked as a junior pharmacist. He has been wearing the face of an unremarkable city man who needed his stomach pills. When you turned away to the shelves and reached for them, he caged you with his body, somehow slipping through the counter, and murmured against your ear, "I'll eat your heart, little bird."

When you turned around in frenzy, hands shaking, expecting to find Yuji with his six horrifying hands ready to tear you apart, you found only an average-looking city man trying to hide a yawn behind the counter. He wasn't a fae. He was human, just like you, and yet Yuji found a way into him like found a way in your dreams.

You were never alone. He has been watching you like a hawk, making sure you never grew close to anyone, especially not men. Once there was a handsome boy with whom you exchanged pleasantries far too many times for fae's liking, and he took over him for a couple of seconds, face changing to Yuji's, black symbols appearing on his skin as he looked you up and down, the corners of his mouth tugged just slightly upward. "Keep yourself pure for me," the fae whispered into your ear as you stood frozen, afraid to move until the boy became himself again.

Least to say, you could afford having neither lovers nor friends. God knows what that fae would do to them if he could force himself into their bodies without much of a struggle.

Sometimes, you dreamt of different Yuji. That Yuji was just a kind fatherless boy who made jokes when you bandaged his hands and thanked you so sincerely when you gave him the ointment for treating his wounds. He nealry cried when you brought him your food and hid his face in his palms out of shame for having to rely on a young woman's pity. He was gentle with horses and dogs, and they flocked to him like he was their master, only enraging the villagers further.

Although you tried not to think of it much, you missed that boy. If it were him visiting your dreams, you wouldn't even mind.

The years are flying by, and soon the promised time will be up, but you aren't afraid. Your room is full of iron and mirrors. The door and every window are lined with a thick layer of salt. There's a sack of dried rowan berries under your pillow. Your stomach doesn't let you have as much sleeping pills as you like, but dreams are just dreams. He can't drag you away through them to his realm, or he would've done it already.

But it's the last night of the seventh year, and when you are running the streets of the city back to your safe heaven, you know you aren't asleep this time, the fairy catching up with you, his speed utterly terrifying. You barely have time to fly up the stairs, trying to lock your heavy door, but he is behind you, forcing you inside: the gushes of wind swipe the layers of salt you so cautiously poured on the floor, and the mirrors fall down the walls, all cracking like they're made of thin ice.

"I've waited for so long for you to show me the way," he says in a low voice, a grin lightening up his handsome features, and you see he is no longer a boy but a man, his shoulders a mile wide, his two heavy arms splitting in six again in front of your very eyes. "I have been patient, little bird."

You weren't, you want to say, but your tongue is numb, and so is your body as the fae advances on you, reaching out his many hands to place them on your face, your waist, and your hips. He seems content with how much you tremble before him.

"The brat misses you," he whispers, his hand tender on your chin as he makes you look up at him, and you raise your brows, unsure you heard him right. He laughs as you. "The boy. Yuji."

You blink. Isn't Yuji just a false name the villagers gave a fae to hide his true one? Why does he refer to him as his own person?

Because he is, the realization strikes you.

"Are you using Yuji's body?" You whimper, eyes already wet as you think of the tremendous difference between a gentle boy in the barn and a cruel creature taunting you in your dreams.

The fae smiles back at you, his face inches away from yours.

"If only you knew how much he pleads me to let you go," he bares his sharp teeth at you like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. "Poor child. He's been in love with you ever since you kicked away that iron girdle."

Horrified, you feel blood rushing to your head as you frantically think what to say, not realizing the fae keeps nudging you towards your bed, towering over you like a giant, mirrors coming further apart under his feet. His fingers are rough and calloused, but he is strangely gentle as if a part of him wishes you well. Is it him? Yuji, the kind boy, trying not to hurt you? Or is it his frightening master trying to trick you into submission?

When the fae lifts up your cotton dress, he tenderly strokes your skin until he reaches your waist, relief strangely washing over his sharp features. "You aren't wearing a girdle."

Biting down on your lips, you look at your ceiling, tears trailing down your cheeks. You thought of it. Iron was convenient to use against the fair folk, and many maidens in fairytales wore them as a protection against the fae charming their way in girls' bedrooms. Surely, with your rooms stuffed full of anything made of iron, it only made sense to wear something as well. And yet... and yet every time you went to blacksmith to commission a piece, you thought of wounded Yuji, his face pale, palms bleeding from the iron girdle forced into his hands.

In the end, you never bought it.

"My pliant little bird," he whispers against your bare skin and you squeeze your eyes shut, thinking how foolish you were to believe you can fend him off with your heavy iron door and mirrors hanging down your walls.

He lays you on your bed, carefully avoiding its iron frame, and soon you realize you are no longer in your room, your bed simply levitating somewhere in the dark, the fae your only companion. You're gone. Your time is finally up, and no one will save you from the monster who has been chasing you since the night you freed him from his shackles.

"Why are you cruel to me?" You ask him in a small voice, head on the pillow as he caresses the inner side of your thighs. "I've done you no wrong."

The fae laughs, "Cruel? You are to wed the Fairy King, little girl. I'll even give you that human brat as a wedding present. Now, stop crying and spread your pretty legs for me."

THE END

__________

Tags: @minshookie29

[roosterforme]

Batting Practice Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You love how excited Bradley and Everett are for the Tiny Eagles' final game, and you can't wait to show Bradley the surprise you have planned for him. With an undefeated season and the title of Coaches of the Year on the line, you and Molly cheer for the boys with everything you have. 

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 5200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

On Saturday morning, before the sun was even up, Bradley was kissing your forehead and whispering, "I'll see you at the game, Kitten." He had been spending more nights at your house than his own apartment, and every time he had to go back to his place to get fresh clothes or do laundry, he kind of hated it. 

As he climbed out of your bed and put on yesterday's clothing, you reached for him, and he gave you a proper kiss. "See you in a few hours," you mumbled before rolling over and going back to sleep. Ten weeks. He had only known you and Everett for ten weeks, but he was so in love with you and your son and your little house and everything about you. 

With a sigh, he grabbed his hat and his wallet and headed outside, locking up behind himself as he went. He had been doing the sneaking in late and sneaking back out early routine on occasion, not wanting Everett to feel like Bradley was taking over his house. But every time he was there, he felt like he belonged with the two of you. 

The school year was wrapping up for Everett, but Bradley had enjoyed working on math and reading homework at the kitchen island. He enjoyed tossing a baseball around your front yard. Every time he left, he wanted to go back.

He ran a load of his laundry while he ate breakfast in his sparse kitchen. Today was the last tee ball game, and he couldn't believe it was less than three months ago that Bob had been practically begging Bradley to help him with the Tiny Eagles in the first place. What if he had said no? He didn't even want to think about that. And as of right now, his team was undefeated, thanks in large part to you and Everett and how much fun Bradley had been having. 

As he pulled on his coach's jersey and grabbed his blue hat and whistle, he silently hoped his team would win their last game, because he knew how happy that would make Everett. And if he and Bob won coaches of the year, he'd give his trophy to Everett to add to the collection of baseball items in his bedroom. 

When Bradley parked at the field a little bit early, nobody else was there yet, not even Bob. He had noticed that Bob had been cutting it a little close the past few games and practices, showing up barely on time, looking a little disheveled with a smiling Molly in tow. It took all of Bradley's willpower not to rib Bob too hard about it, because his fellow aviator turned crimson every time. But Molly could take the trash talk like a pro, which Bradley already appreciated about your sister. 

And ever since Bradley had gotten a glimpse of the diamond rings that the jeweler had on display, he couldn't help but think that things with you were moving too fast and still too slow at the same time. So he fought the urge to max out his credit card, but he was still thinking about what kind of ring you would like.

"Coach Bradley!" 

He looked up to see Sandra and Henry rushing toward him with two gigantic gift baskets. She was wearing practically no clothing, and he was agitated that she had been able to corner him. "Hey, Henry! Sandra." He patted Henry on his shoulder, and then Sandra was in his personal space, handing him one of the baskets that was filled with so much random shit. "Thanks," he mumbled, trying to sidestep her hand as it found his arm. 

"You're so welcome. This season has been fantastic, all thanks to you and Bob," she purred. "I'm just hoping I can get Henry on your team for the fall league. And I'm hoping you'll choose me to be Team Mom next time."

Bradley rubbed his mustache. He'd been thinking about coaching again, even going so far as to considering becoming a head coach. He and Bob could have teams that went against each other, and Bradley thought that might be a lot of fun. "Thanks, Sandra. And you know what, that's a great idea. Since I'm dating our Team Mom now, it would probably be a conflict of interest if I chose her again in the fall."

The sour look on her face as Bradley noticed Bob's truck pull into the parking lot followed by your car had him smiling a little bit as he waved back to Everett who was waving wildly through the open window. "Excuse me," he mumbled as he headed for your car. Hadn't he just seen you a few hours ago? Been in your bed with your arms around his neck, felt your soft breaths on his cheek?

"Fuck," he gasped, jogging up the hill with his gift basket, antsy to get to you. When you climbed out of your car, he set the basket on your roof and kissed you hard. 

"Ew!" Molly gasped as she climbed out of Bob's truck. 

But you just smiled and said, "I like it when you wear your hat backwards."

"Why do you think I keep doing it?" he asked softly, and you bit your lip as you glanced back at the gift basket.

"Something to remember Sandra by?" you asked with an eye roll. "I'll give you a better thank you gift later, Coach."

"Oh, I can't wait," he mumbled, kissing your forehead as Ev climbed out of your backseat. "Hey, Kiddo! Last game. Are you excited?" 

"Yes!" he said, jumping up to high five Bradley before running over to Bob as well. "If we win today, then that means our team is the best one!" Bradley watched Everett bounce around between Bob and Molly as you chucked the gift from Sandra onto your passenger seat.

"Hey, careful, Kitten. There might be something good in there."

You rolled your eyes and closed your door, and Bradley laced his fingers through yours. "Yeah, I saw a Starbucks gift card. It's mine now."

"Whatever you want," he whispered, running his thumb along your ring finger. The kids were starting to warm up with Bob, and Molly had secured a good spot on the bleachers. "I'll see you after the Tiny Eagles go undefeated for a perfect season." 

You kissed him hard and then, when Bradley turned toward the other coaches, he felt you slap his ass. "You can do it, Coach Bradley! You're the best!" Then you turned innocently toward the bleachers and brightly said, "Hello, Sandra!" before continuing toward your sister.

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

"It's the tight, white pants that made me do it," you whispered to Molly as she shook with laughter. "I was helpless to control myself." 

"God, you're right," Molly sighed. "It's like... I never knew how badly I needed a man in a uniform. And I'm talking the flight suit, the khakis, and the tee ball getup."

You looked at Bob for a beat. "It's the glasses, Mo."

"The fucking glasses," she whined softly. She was going to move in with Bob next weekend after Everett's birthday baseball game. 

You wanted to warn your sister that she was moving really quickly, especially for her, but you just couldn't. You thought she and Bob made a lot of sense, and you were happy for her. Bob was the perfect departure from the bad boys she usually went for. He kept turning to look at Molly as the game started, just like Bradley did with you. 

"How did this happen?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know," you replied. 

"I'm fully addicted to the pizza nights now, I hope you know that," she told you with a grin. "We can win any argument when Natasha is with us. It's literally perfect."

You loved the pizza nights, too. You loved the way Everett was always welcome on someone's lap. You loved how Bradley cut the pizza slices smaller for him. You loved how comfortable you felt. "It is perfect."

Molly cleared her throat just as Everett went up to bat. "Not to dampen the mood, but what did your lawyer say?"

You took a deep breath, but you found that it actually wasn't so hard to talk about. "I'm going to meet with them in person, but getting Danny's name off of Everett's birth certificate is going to be challenging. Would be easier if I were remarried and looking to have my spouse adopt him. But they are going to do some research about child support based on Danny's shitty income which I'm sure will make him rage at me again."

Molly hugged you tight. "I'm sorry this is happening."

You nodded, but you found that you didn't want to cry about it anymore. "Me too. But we'll continue to be better off without him, even if they can't make him pay."

Then you both jumped to your feet. "Go Ev!" Molly cheered as he hit the ball ridiculously far. He ran the bases as Bradley and Bob cheered him on. And the look of pure elation on Bradley's face as Everett crossed home plate and ran into his arms was going to stay with you forever. 

"We're leading by one run now!" Molly was bouncing up and down.

Then it really hit you. "They're going to be undefeated, aren't they?" You felt kind of silly. It was just tee ball. But it had actually become really important to you and everyone around you. 

"I think so!" Molly gushed as you both sat down and held hands through the final inning. And when the Tiny Condors were not able to tie the game, you felt tears in your eyes for a different reason as you smiled and ran down the bleachers toward Everett. 

You scooped him up into your arms and squeezed him tight. "You're so good, Ev! I'm so proud of you!"

"Mommy! Aunt Molly! We won every game!"

"You sure did!" Molly told him, kissing his cheek before heading toward Bob. She made no secret of them being together as a moment later, you saw her hand slide up the front of his jersey as she kissed him. 

Bradley was left to converse with the umpires, but his smile was huge when he finally turned your way. He high fived and hugged all of the Tiny Eagles, but he knelt in front of Everett and hugged him for a long time. And when they started to have a quiet conversation, you gave them a little space.

You hoped this meant that Bradley and Bob would both win awards at the league picnic tomorrow afternoon. You already had a treat planned for your boyfriend just in case, but you thought you could use it either way. 

After Bradley kissed Everett's forehead, he stood and kissed yours as well. "Thanks for not pulling Ev from the team after I fucked up, Kitten."

You smiled up at him. "I didn't have the heart to do it. I'm glad I didn't."

"I love you. Let me buy you both some ice cream."

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

After Bradley offered to buy you and Everett a treat from the snack bar, you told him to take Everett to the bench and wait. You insisted you wanted to buy it. So Bradley gave him a piggyback ride over to the same bench where you and he had flirted relentlessly on your 'first date'. Bradley smiled just thinking about how he had answered your phone when Frank kept calling you nonstop. 

Everett jumped down onto the bench, and Bradley sat next to him while you waved from the line. "Hey, kiddo?" he asked Everett after you blew him a kiss. 

"Yeah, Coach?"

Bradley chuckled and looked at his excited face. "You can call me Bradley now. All the time. Tee ball is over."

"Okay," he replied, still all smiles from winning the final game. 

Bradley cleared his throat and made sure you weren't on your way over yet. "Can you keep a secret from your mom? It's nothing bad or scary, I promise."

"Okay," he said again, nodding this time.

"What kind of ring did your mom used to wear? When she was married to your dad?"

Everett's little brow scrunched up as he gave Bradley a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

"Her wedding ring," Bradley told him quietly. "What did it look like?"

"Oh," he said, plopping down next to Bradley now. "She didn't have one."

Bradley cocked his head to the side. "She never wore one?"

"Nope."

"Huh." Surely you must have had a wedding ring? Did Danny really not buy you a ring? "Ev, she never wore any rings? Not even a plain one?"

"Nope."

Bradley settled back against the bench, and stared off into space. He'd been thinking about it a bit, and he really wanted to make sure he didn't get you a ring that was similar to something you had worn from Danny. But if you never had one at all...

"Take it before it melts!" you said, laughing as you jolted Bradley from his thoughts. He grabbed one of the ice creams from your hands and quickly licked the sides before he helped Everett with his.

"Thanks, Kitten," Bradley told you as you went to sit on the other side of your son. "Are you excited for the picnic tomorrow?" he asked Everett.

"Yep! I'm going to get a trophy!"

"I think Bradley might be getting a trophy, too!" you added, licking your ice cream and winking at Bradley. He watched you eat with narrowed eyes as his own snack melted. 

Bradley grunted. "Well, the most important thing is that I'm going to get you ready for real baseball in the fall. And the fact that San Diego has nice weather year round means that you'll probably get so good from practicing all the time that you'll be able to get a scholarship someday."

"What's a scholarship?" Everett asked as his ice cream dripped on Bradley's shoe.

"Ev," you mumbled and went to clean it up. But Bradley took your hand and guided you back to the bench with a shake of his head.

"It's fine, Kitten. It's just my shoe," he told you. And then he turned Everett's ice cream so it wouldn't keep dripping everywhere. "A scholarship is money that colleges sometimes give to athletes so they will come play sports for the school. Your mom would probably be delighted if you got one."

You laughed as you bit into your cone. "Would be nice. Lawyers are expensive," you muttered, leaning in to kiss Everett's cheek. 

"You need to keep me in the loop when you do things like that," he told you, shooting you a no nonsense look. 

"Okay," you whispered. 

Once Everett had finished his ice cream and washed his hands, Bradley walked both of you back to your car. "Want me to pick you both up for the picnic tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Everett cheered. "Your car is fun!" 

But once he was buckled in his booster seat, you pulled Bradley close and whispered, "I have something special for you, Coach." And Bradley audibly groaned as your hand came to rest on his cock, stroking him through his snug baseball pants. "Stay over tomorrow night?"

"Of course," he grunted next to your ear as you squeezed him gently. "Fuck."

You just giggled and said, "I think you'll love your surprise."

Then you backed out of the parking spot while Bradley stood next to his Bronco with a semi and waved like an idiot. He wasn't sure what kind of surprise you had in store for him, but he loved everything you did. And then he drove off in the opposite direction, back to the jewelry shop to pick up your necklace which the jeweler had needed to keep longer than anticipated. And he could also look at the rings some more. 

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

"Where's Aunt Molly?" Everett whined as you sat with him on your lap on the crowded bleachers. All of the tee ball teams had been invited today, and there were so many people at the picnic. 

"She's on her way from work, Ev. She should be here soon."

"What if she misses my trophy?"

"Then we'll have to show it to her when she gets here."

"What if she misses Coach Bob's trophy?"

You kissed his cheek and held him tighter. He was beyond excited that his coaches had been nominated for awards. "Then she can see Coach Bob's trophy later." 

You laughed at the inadvertent dirty joke you just told, and then you saw your sister walking down from her car right as the ceremony started. She found a spot to stand off the side and waved at you. "Look, Aunt Molly's here. You feel better now?"

"Yep!" Everett told you as he waved to her as well.

You watched the third and second place teams get their medals, and when they called the Tiny Eagles up to collect their trophies, Everett ran up alongside Bradley and Bob. You took some pictures while you cheered. You were struck with a pang of sadness over the fact that Danny didn't want to be part of this. But then you saw Bradley pull Everett into a big hug as soon as he had his trophy in his hand.

Your son was happy all the time when he was around Bradley. He always seemed to provide Everett with love, attention, and comfort. And that was in addition to all of the fun they seemed to have together. You took another picture of them hugging, and then it was Bradley's turn for his award.

Bob looked so shy and hesitant as he thanked everyone for a great season, but when it was Bradley's turn, you couldn't stop smiling. 

He gave all of the kids on the team a special shout out, and then he thanked the league for trusting that he and Bob could handle a team like this on their first try. And then you had to suppress your giggles as Bradley found where you were sitting on the bleachers and said, "And a big thank you to our Team Mom. None of this would have happened without her."

You waved down to them, and Everett, Bradley and Bob all waved back. Then Bradley was awarded his trophy and promptly handed it to Everett. "Seriously," Molly called out to you. "He's so much better than Danny."

"I know," you agreed, taking in the enormous smile on Everett's face as he ran to Molly. And then you were heading down the bleachers and into Bradley's arms. 

"Hey, Kitten," he whispered, kissing your cheek as you laughed. 

"Remember that day when you silently bullied me into agreeing to be the Team Mom?" you asked, looking up at him.

His grin and his backward hat looked exactly like they had that day as he said, "I sure do. God, I was so into you. I thought you must have been married though."

You buried your face against his chest and laughed. "The hot coach wanted me to be Team Mom? No way I wasn't raising my hand."

He kissed the top of your head and led you over to the picnic area where Everett was sitting with Molly, his grip on both trophies unrelenting. "Thanks for letting him hold that," you told Bradley.

But he just shrugged. "He can have it. I think he was more excited about me winning it than I was," he said with a laugh. "And I think I'm going to coach another tee ball team in the fall. I loved this."

Your heart swelled with love for him. "You should. You're good at it."

"Deployments will be hard to get around though," he whispered, kissing you on the head again. "Gonna be hard for us, too."

"Ev and I aren't going anywhere."

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

After the picnic, Bradley drove you both back to your house and helped a very sleepy Everett get a quick shower and get ready for bed. "Go relax, Kitten. I got this," he promised as Everett changed into pajamas and brushed his teeth. 

You bit your lip and kissed Everett goodnight. Then you whispered, "Come find me when you're done," before you walked into your bedroom and closed the door, glancing at him over your shoulder. 

He grunted, wondering if he was going to get the surprise you promised him. His mind was filled with dirty blowjobs and kitten costumes, and he had to take a deep breath as Everett crossed the hallway back to his bedroom in his baseball pajamas and climbed up into his bed.

"Have you thought about moving into the extra bedroom?" he asked with a yawn, and Bradley smiled as he pulled the covers up over him.

"Honestly, Kiddo? I think about it all the time."

"We should talk to my mom about it," Everett muttered as he rolled onto his side, already half asleep. 

"Yeah," Bradley whispered, "we should." Then he straightened both trophies on Everett's dresser and turned off the lamp before leaving the room. But he thought that another level of commitment was definitely going to be necessary before he could move in here. He'd been thinking about it though.

But all thoughts simply vanished from his brain as he opened your bedroom door and saw you standing there next to your bed. A strangled sound escaped from the back of his throat as his jaw dropped open. 

"You okay, Coach?" you asked teasingly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, hands planted on your hips. 

"Kitten," he gasped, eyes going wider. "Baby."

You were wearing a tiny, skimpy red and white cheerleading uniform and holding red pom poms at your hips. The little pleated skirt barely hid anything from his view, and he could see your peaked nipples poking against the top.

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I heard you won Coach of the year. I'm so proud of you." You took a step closer to him, and he wasn't sure if his cock could actually get any harder than it was. You'd put on some red lipstick and some extra eye makeup, and you looked fucking hot. He was having a hard time speaking as he reached for you.

"This is for me?" he managed to ask as he pulled you against him and ran his hands along the little skirt. But you spun in his arms, and he felt all of the blood in his body rush to his groin as you rubbed your ass against him.

"For you." You looked back at him over your shoulder as he ran his hands down along your bare thighs.

"You look like one of the Phillies cheerleaders," he whispered in your ear.

"That's what I was going for," you gasped with a smile.

"My first crush was on the entire 1995 Phillies cheerleading roster."

"Why am I not surprised?" Your soft laughter had him bucking against your backside. He was completely ready to go. 

"You like dressing up for me," he muttered as you spun to face him again.

You nodded and shook your pom poms as you shimmied for him. "Yeah, I do. I think you like it, too."

"That would be an understatement," he growled as your tits nearly bounced out of that tiny top. When he pulled you closer by your hips, you dropped the pom poms to the floor and reached for the fly of his pants, and Bradley leaned down to kiss you softly. "I love this."

You kissed him all over his lips and mustache and cheeks, and he was sure he had your lipstick everywhere, and he was so fucking turned on. And then you were in front of him on your knees, and his baseball pants and underwear were around his thighs. He quickly pulled his jersey and undershirt off as you wrapped your pretty lips around his cock and looked up at him as you took him inch by inch until he met the back of your throat. 

"Yeah," he groaned. "Just like this. I'd jerk off thinking about those cheerleaders sucking my cock."

You moaned so loudly with him against the back of your throat that he had to bite his tongue against the urge to blow his load already. 

"But you're so much better. My god." He was already panting as you withdrew him from your mouth. Your lipstick was on his cock now, but he barely had time to process anything before you were sucking on him again. He watched you, his actual fantasy come to life, as you gave him excellent head. When he ran his thumb along your cheek, he could feel his cock inside your mouth. He needed to stop you, because he desperately wanted to fuck you, but this felt too perfect.

But when you started running your fingernails along his balls, he pulled you up to your feet. You let out a startled laugh before he pressed his lips to yours. "I wanna fuck you," he managed between sloppy kisses as he grabbed at your bare backside with both hands. 

You were moaning against his lips as his dick was poking into your belly. "Anything you want," you gasped, running your hands along his shoulders and pecs. 

"Don't tell me that," he growled, picking you up as you squealed and getting you on your knees at the edge of the bed. "God damn. I want everything." You looked too good on your hands and knees, glancing back at him while your glistening pussy and ass were bare for him. He ran his fingers through your slick until you were moaning his name, and then he knelt and put his mouth on you as he used his hand to coat himself with your wetness.

"Coach!" you cried out as Bradley licked your pussy and kissed the backs of your thigh. 

"You gotta be quiet, Kitten," he grunted, pushing your knees a little further apart as he lapped at you until you were bouncing back to meet his tongue. But you just got louder and louder, and when Bradley stood behind you and slid his cock inside, you nearly screamed.

"Bradley!"

"Shh." He tried his best to coax you to be quiet, but it didn't work until he clamped his left hand over your lips. "Baby, you can be as loud as you want when we're actually alone," he rasped, fucking you a little harder now. That little pleated red and white skirt brushed along your ass with each thrust, and Bradley wrapped his right hand around your waist, fucking you with deeper strokes. 

Your muffled cries had him close now as he moved his hand to palm your ass. He'd have to consider buying you a gag of some sort, and that had him actually cumming inside your tight pussy. 

"Fuck!" he grunted, letting go of your mouth and squeezing both of your ass cheeks as he fucked you until he was seeing stars. You just whimpered pathetically as you clenched around his softening cock. When Bradley pulled you up so your back was pressed against his chest, he ran his hands up under your skirt and teased your clit, really making sure you felt good.

"Coach!" you gasped, still fluttering around his cock as he pressed his lips to your neck. When you moved his fingers from your pussy up to your lips, he nibbled along your bare shoulder. You sucked on each of his fingers before you asked, "Did you like this as much as the kitten costume?"

He groaned so loudly, you giggled. "Yes, this was just as good as the kitten. Don't make me choose one." 

"You can have both," you promised, turning to kiss him as he withdrew his cock from your pussy and helped you to your feet. 

He watched his cum drip down and coat your thighs as he whimpered for you. And then he remembered what was tucked inside his pants pocket. Carefully he pulled out your repaired necklace and held it out to you. 

"Oh!" you gasped, reaching for it right away. "You fixed it!"

"Yeah," he whispered, kissing your parted lips. "Of course I did."

Once you had further examined it, you stared up at him with a look of awe. "It's better now," you told him, turning it over in your hand to inspect the engraving. One side of the paw print said Bradley and the other said Everett. He carefully clasped it around your neck before you wrapped your arms around his waist, and he just couldn't stop thinking about being here with you forever.

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

On Thursday, you were desperately trying to finish up for the day when another project got dumped on your desk. It was Everett's birthday, and you were hoping you'd be able to sneak out early and stop home to change before the Padres game. You started working on the new project before you decided to just say fuck it.

You turned your computer off an hour early and locked up your desk. You'd have time to change and meet everyone else at the ballpark since Everett was spending the day at the zoo with Molly. So you strolled to the elevator and then out to your car without a care in the world. 

And that's when your phone rang. It was your lawyer. You stumbled to a stop in the parking lot as you accepted the call. 

"A judge is not going to allow Daniel to sign away his rights. Not unless adoption becomes an option for your son. However, even when you acquire sole custody, which is basically a done deal, he'd still be required to pay you the child support he owes you, plus continue to pay in the future. Your ex husband would have one hundred and twenty days to try to dispute it. Would you like us to serve him with papers?"

Your heart was pounding as you played with the charm on your chain. You were beginning to feel like you had on your bathroom floor, short of breath and nauseous. "Can I think about it?" you asked softly. You didn't want to have to chase Danny for money. He would just make this as difficult for you as he could, and you didn't want to have to deal with him anymore at all. 

"Of course. Take your time."

You ended the call and climbed in your car. Bradley had implored you to keep him updated with the information your lawyer was giving you. But there was just no way you'd be able to tell him all of this. It would be mortifying, admitting to your boyfriend that more than anything, you wanted to know if he'd ever marry you and adopt your child. 

A pathetic sounding laugh bubbled out of you. No. You would just keep that information to yourself and decide if it was worth going after Danny at all. Because all you really wanted at the moment was your own name solely attached to Everett as his legal guardian. But that wasn't something you could have yet if at all.

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

Undefeated! Everett's birthday party is up next! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

Time to check out The Curveball for more of Molly and Bob!

PART 23

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[chatsukimi]

POV. STREATRACER!TOJI asks to borrow your last name.

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･

“What do you mean you don’t want your last name printed on your uniform?”

Toji, your trust fund racer and favourite bet, shrugs. “Already said, I won’t race with the name Zen’in.”

You sit down at your desk. It’s after school, and you and the spoiled soon-to-be college reject are sitting in the classroom.

You throw your hands up. “But why? What’s bad about Zen’in?”

“Everything,” he deadpans.

Staring at the guy for a flat five seconds, you realise he won’t change his mind, or explain himself, which you should have expected from a guy going broke despite his millionaire family.

Toji props himself up on the desk beside yours, leaning on his knees as though thinking. A few seconds pass.

He offers, “why don’t I use yours?”

“My what?”

“Your last name,” he suggests, breezing through the prospect at horrifying speed. “It works. You’re sponsoring me anyways.”

You blink twice. Delayed reaction.

“What?!” you squeak out.

Toji smirks, leaning on his palm watching you. “What?” he repeats, playing innocent. He sports a smug look in his green eyes and even bothers to scan your notebook splayed out on your desk, reading your last name out loud to himself. “Nice.”

No. Not nice. They’ll assume you're- you're- your cheeks heat up.

He looks at you, bearing a smile that's all teeth. 'We could be cousins.'

The guy even dares to pat you on the shoulder at that. You shake him off. No one at the race would believe you two are related.

"No."

'No?' he echoes, cocking his head, tempting you to speak. 'What could we be then?'

"We can be... can be..." you think to yourself, before noticing his hands landing on your shoulder, massaging them like a habit. He's sauntered over from his chair.

Comforting, but still...

Bad habit.

Your heart stutters.

Baaad habit.

"Hm?" He chuckles when he sees you realise. "What would we be?"

You swallow, the small proximity between the two of you taking your mind on a field trip; him standing behind your seat and you, fidgeting your hands under the desk like crazy.

"Nothing."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I don't think taking your last name means nothing," he presses, serious.

How is he saying this with such a straight face? You're looking anywhere in the classroom but Toji, hoping he might just drop the subject. What's wrong with his last name anyways? What is he even insinuating? Does he really-

"I don't think I'll get tired of that face in ten years' time," he states.

Toji Zen'in is a blunt guy. When he said he hates his last name, he meant it. When he says he wants yours, well, no one's calling this guy a liar, are they?

It's been a while since you started sponsoring his races, and he's grown accustomed to your face in the stands. Always too far away, though. You always have on that dispassionate expression as a gambler, as though he's one of the rest.

For once, he cannot be just one of the rest.

“I'm... not sure what you mean." Your eyes move to the sunset outside, ignoring the way you bite your lip.

He studies your face for a minute before smirking again. "You're dabbling in illegal motorsports and can't look me in the eye."

You wince.

You murmur, "well then maybe you should say directly what you mean then."

You're so cute like this, pretending you don't like him too.

He walks around the table to face you properly. All of a sudden you can imagine your name on his back as he gets into the vehicle to race, as the stands to hear the cheers of the crowd. He'd wear it well. He coughs to get your attention.

“I’m saying.” He places his hands on his hips, shrugging as he goes. “Maybe let's be married. Just one day.”

Only, he doesn't intend for it to be one day. He wants you to remember your last name on him, keep the moment in your head; he'll wear it better than anyone else.

…

It is at that moment when the times come out and the trophies are awarded that he drapes his arm around your waist. The wink he throws your way, accomplice. Spectators ask what's his name.

And this is the moment you become more than his financier or the bets you place on him to win.

He speaks it into the microphone, proud for the stadium, the world. to hear.

And this is the moment you glance up at him with more than just a shallow smile, saying 'congrats'.

The word reverberates over the race track in a powerful wave.

He spoke into the microphone and the name is yours.

pt. 1

[screamin-abt-haikyuu]

You're jealous but you can't do anything because you're not dating him (Part 7) - Wakatoshi Ushijima

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Pairing: Ushijima x Fem! reader

Genre: Angst to fluff

Warnings: none, really? Reader calls him Toshi.

Requested by: @ushisrever

A/N: Can't believe I posted the last update to this more than two years ago. Has it really been that long???? The incomplete series has been bothering me for two years now lmao. Didn't think I'd ever find a fitting scenario for Ushiwaka but thanks to @dira333 helping me sound off some ideas, I was able to get that perfect "snap!" you get when you fit a puzzle piece in perfectly. Gave me enough brain juice to write this out before going back into hibernation.

Serving you some fresh, hot angst and then some lol. Enjoy the burn and then the healing. For someone who was as far removed from Ushiwaka (emotionally) as one can, writing this actually made me see him in a new light. Loved writing him. Hopefully, it stays as true to his canon nature as it can. Hopefully I don't trash this before it's out💀 but if you're reading this, it's good lol.

It feels like the entire Shiratorizawa is at the gates of the school.

"I can't believe she's coming to our school!"

"AAA I can't stop imagining how she'll look in our school uniform."

"Do you think she already has a boyfriend? Maybe I have a chance?"

"I don't know about a boyfriend but you certainly don't have a chance with her."

"Must you always be so cruel?!"

"If you think a star child actor who has made it so big in the industry is going to date a simpleton like you, you're delusional."

You sigh, annoyed, as you try to make your way through the babbling crowd. You're already late for your morning classes and you couldn't care any less about Hoshiko Nakamura. Or any celebrity for that matter.

"In fact, I don't think any boy in this school has a chance with her. Hmm... except maybe Ushiwaka? Not that he'd be interested in dating her anyway. Sometimes I feel like that guy doesn't have any emotions at all."

Your ears perk up at the Ace's name.

Wakatoshi Ushijima has become somewhat of a celebrity at school ever since he was selected for the under 19 representative for Japan in the Youth World Championship.

He was already well known as the formidable volleyball player who crushes any team that he takes on. However, his serious and stoic nature has kept most people from approaching him. Till now, at least.

The girl was right. Wakatoshi wouldn't even think about dating anyone. You seem fairly sure of that. However, the suggestion still leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You're wrong about him not having any emotions you think as you finally break free from the crowd and sprint towards your classroom.

You've known Wakatoshi for as long as you can remember. You remember when his family moved into the house next to yours when you were just little kids. You remember watching the reserved, determined figure of the boy practicing volleyball all by himself in the nearby park. You remember going up to him and offering to play with him. Out of all these memories, the most vivid of them all was the way his eyes subtly lit up when you said you wanted to play with him.

Time has blurred into a haze since then. Even though you both went to different schools all through junior and middle school years, you both kept alive the tradition of playing volleyball together in park.

"You should come to Shiratorizawa," he had said that fateful day. You both were in the last year of middle school. It was a beautiful evening as you both walked back home from the park, the setting sun throwing hues of red and gold across the partially cloudy sky.

"That's not in my hands. I tried in middle school, remember? I want Shiratorizawa but Shiratorizawa doesn't seem to want me," you said, kicking a pebble on the road. Funny how I could say the same about you.

"That was three years ago. You have grown," he said without pause.

"We'll see. I don't want to get my hopes too high. You know just as well as I do that they give preference to athletes over normal students like me. Casual volleyball games with you are just about as sporty as I get," you said as you reached out to open the gate to your home.

You turned to say goodbye to him and found him looking at you, his expression more serious than usual.

"It's not about athleticism."

"Shiratorizawa only accepts the best. Be it volleyball or anything else. I believe you fit into that category. You should come," he says, looking straight into your eyes.

Your stomach flutters. How could he have so much faith in you? There is no doubt that he believes in you because Wakatoshi Ushijima always means what he says. Almost 5 years of knowing him had taught you that. You still found it hard to digest, though.

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"I know you will."

"Class, please give a warm welcome your new classmate, Hoshiko Nakamura!"

You can't help but gawk at her. Saying she is pretty would be a severe understatement. If she looks pretty on screen, it is nothing compared to what she looks like off screen. You look at your desk partner to see if he is thinking the same. Wakatoshi, however, seems to simply be listening to the teacher.

"Miss Nakamura, I'm sure you will have no problem settling in here. To kind of help you settle in this new environment, I was thinking of seating you next to Ushijima as I believe you two have met before at some of the national events."

The teacher might as well have thrown a bus at you and it would have felt just about the same as you do now.

Hoshiko's face lights up. "That would be great. Wakatoshi-kun has always been a delight to be with. Thank you for having me," she says and bows.

Did she just call him by his first name?

"Ah, Y/N, sorry for springing this on you so suddenly. I wanted to get a hold of you before morning class but couldn't. I hope it's not a problem," the teacher says.

You force a polite smile. "It's not a problem at all," you say and start packing your bag.

Hoshiko walks up to the desk and waits patiently for you to gather your stuff, thanking you again.

Your legs feel heavy as you take the empty seat diagonal to them in the adjacent row.

I'm panicking for no reason. They just know each other from an event. It makes sense to make her sit with a familiar and safe person, given her popularity. Yes, Wakatoshi is definitely the ideal choice in this scenario. He is not someone who would be creepy in any sense. He's also strong and intimidating so it would keep the creeps away. It's fine. It'll be fine. Nothing is going to happen between them... right?

"Wakatoshi-kun, I'm so glad I got to sit next to you," she says, smiling at him, speaking loud enough for people sitting nearby to hear.

"Actually, if I'm being honest, when I decided to come back to my hometown to complete my studies, I knew I wanted to go to Shiratorizawa immediately," she continues.

"Of course. Shiratorizawa is the best school in the prefecture. It's only natural to want to study here," Ushijima says, completely seriously.

Hoshiko blushes. "Ah... that is not what I meant... nevermind," she says, causing the guy behind them to burst into laughter.

It seems like the hollow sensation growing in your stomach is here to stay.

It has been two months since the day Hoshiko joined your school. With Ushijima going to school earlier than usual and practicing late into the night for the Inter High preliminaries, he hasn't been able to spend much time with you lately. Normally, this wouldn't have bothered you because you could see him in class everyday but with Hoshiko now taking your place, you barely get to say more than hi to him.

However, with the prelims now over and the upcoming week-long break ahead, you're hoping to get some one-on-one time with him once again. All these years with him have made him such an intrinsic part of your daily life that it feels like something big is missing when he's not around. To the world, Wakatoshi Ushijima might be a lot of things. But to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima is home. He is comfort. He is strength. He is someone that you know like the back of your own hand. He is someone that your heart always keeps coming back to. He is the only love you have ever known.

You know that he doesn't share the same feelings for you. But that doesn't stop your heart from longing for him.

The lessons for the day are over and you walk back to your class, eager to pack your bag and go home with Ushijima. You wonder if he'll want to go to the park in the evening.

"She's asking him out! She's asking him out!"

"No WAY! I am SO jealous."

A small crowd has gathered around the window and they're whispering amongst themselves as they look outside.

"Man, that Ushiwaka is so lucky! He gets to date the most beautiful girl in the entire country."

"I mean… he is in the nation's top 3 aces and an under 19 representative of Japan. Not to mention he's tall and strong and good looking. They're actually perfect for each other."

Your heart drops down to your feet.

You look out the window and find yourself looking at Hoshiko and Ushijima standing a ways away from the school building. They're in a quiet, secluded spot and Hoshiko seems to be blushing as she says something to him. You see him nod and say something in return. Hoshiko's face lights up in pure delight and even though they are at a distance, you can hear the joy in her voice.

"No way!!!! He said yes?? I thought he wasn't interested in girls!"

"Goddamn it! There goes my chance!"

You feel dizzy as you watch the two of them walk back to school together.

No. This can't be. You have always known that he doesn't like you that way. But you thought he wasn't interested in dating at all.

No. You shouldn't make any assumptions just yet. These gossip mongers are messing with your head. For all you know, he could have said yes to being in a show or something. You shouldn't despair before you hear the truth from him.

You blink back your tears and run to your class. Thankfully, it's empty. You take a few deep breaths to calm yourself and wait. Both of them soon appear in the hallway. The crowd surrounds them instantly, wanting to drown them in questions but Ushijima breaks away from them easily and walks towards the class. He comes up to you.

"Y/N. I'm sorry I won't be able to come to the park today."

It's true.

"Hoshiko and I are going to watch this new movie playing at the theatre-"

He's going on a date with her.

"Apparently it has a lot of volleyball in it-"

He's going on a date with h-

"You should join us."

Huh?

"What?"

"I figured you might like it since you play volleyball with me even though you don't play it otherwise."

What? What? What?? What is happening right now??

Ushijima patiently waits for your answer.

"Uh... Whose idea was it to go to the movie?"

"Nakamura's. Why?"

"And how did she bring up the idea?"

"Well, I was returning from the club and she asked to speak to me in private. And then she told me about the movie and if I wanted to watch it with her."

He didn't get it.

"Ah... Toshi... I'm pretty sure she was asking you out on a date."

His eyes widen with surprise.

"A... date? But she never said she had romantic feelings for me."

Could this mean...? Can I hope...?

"Well, her asking you out on the date was her way of saying it."

"I see. I didn't realise. Thank you for telling me. In that case, I should tell her my feelings for her as well."

He has feelings for her.

Your heart shatters.

You're glad that he walks out right away because you couldn't have stopped your tears from coming out even if you wanted to. You run out of the back door, desperate to get far away.

I guess I was the problem all this time. I just wasn't someone you could look at that way.

You had always known that. You had always known that he didn't feel for you the way you did. But that hadn't stopped you from falling for him. Hard. How could you have not? Eight years of knowing him... You didn't even realise when you fell for him. Loving him just came so naturally to you.

Logically, it makes sense. They make sense. She is beautiful and tall and smart. And so is he. They are the type of couple who would be featured on the cover of a magazine. Which, given their career trajectories, is bound to happen sooner or later.

But the heart doesn't care for logic and at this moment you feel like it will actually burst from the amount of pain you're feeling.

You spend the rest of the evening and the entire night crying in your room.

Morning comes and you feel worse than ever. Your head is throbbing, your nose is stuffy and your eyes are swollen. You decide to skip school. It's the last day before break anyway. Maybe this break will be good for you. It will give you some time to adjust to everything and compose yourself.

You go back to bed and sleep through the entire day.

You thought you'd feel better after getting some rest but you still feel like shit.

You drag yourself out of bed. Your entire body feels like it weighs ten times more.

Maybe a shower and some fresh air will do you good.

You head out.

No matter how much you try to think of something else, your mind keeps coming back to him. Your eyes keep searching for him. You look in the direction of his room. The curtains are open and you can see it is empty.

Of course he's not home yet. He's probably out with her again.

Even though it's barely a minute away, you feel exhausted by the time you reach the park. Thankfully, it is empty.

You sit on one of the swings and look around. Most of your memories with Ushijima are tied to this park. This is where you both have spent the majority of your last eight years together.

All the sweet memories make you tear up again.

"You didn't come to school today."

You were so lost in your head that you didn't realise when he walked up to you. You blink back your tears.

"Oh... hi. Yeah, I - I wasn't feeling very well today," you say, not meeting his eye.

"You seem upset."

He noticed.

"Oh... I'm fine. Really. It's just been a rough day. It's nothing to worry about," you say, still evading his gaze.

He sits on the swing next to you. You look to the side and see he has a volleyball in his lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You quickly avert your gaze again.

"No."

"I see. Well, would you like me to distract you? Talk about something else?"

It is getting harder to keep your tears in check. You're sure your voice will crack if you speak. You just nod.

"You would've liked the movie. It wasn't as focused on volleyball as Nakamura said it would-"

Great. He's chosen the worst topic he could have talked about. You don't want to hear about his date. You need to change the topic. Quickly.

"What are you doing here?" you blurt out the one question that has been weighing on your mind ever since he came here.

"What do you mean? I came here to play volleyball with you."

"I- I mean... I thought you would spend your free time with Ho-Hoshiko from now."

"Why would I do that?"

"B- because you're d-dating her?" Your voice cracks.

"I am not dating Nakamura."

What?

"What do you mean you're not dating her? I thought you liked her. Didn't you go on a date with her yesterday?"

"I do like her. Just not romantically. And no, I went to watch the movie with Tendou. She had already bought the tickets so I bought them from her. I wanted to watch it with you but you went home. "

"But... you left to tell her your feelings for her..."

"I did. I wanted to clarify that I only feel for her as a friend. It was only thanks to you that I was able to tell her in time before I ended up hurting her unintentionally."

"I...see..."

Relief floods your heart. You suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. You finally gather the courage to look at him. He is looking right back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" you say, your lower lip trembling.

"Of course."

"Do you have romantic feelings for anyone?"

You instantly regret speaking up as soon as the question leaves your mouth. You know he never lies. And if he doesn't feel the same w-

"Yes. You."

You stare at him blankly.

It's subtle but his expression has changed from completely serious to something a little softer. You can't quite place what it is. Is it concern? nervousness? Adoration?

"R-really? You like me? Romantically?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Ah," he rubs his chin, "I'm not sure..."

You're still having difficulty believing that any of this is real.

"You know," he continues, "After my father, you were the first person who ever wanted to play with me."

He points towards the corner of the park. "I was practicing against that wall that day when you came up to me. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember. I can never forget that day."

"So many people have come and gone from my life but you have been with me for so long that, I guess somewhere along the way I just assumed you would stay forever. Which, I now realise, I shouldn't have."

He feels the same. He has always felt the same.

"Toshi?"

He turns to you again.

"I love you."

He breaks into a soft smile.

"I love you too."

Holyshit this was a ride. I'm glad I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy.

Reblogs appreciated. Please do not steal or repost.

Taglist: @pinkiipeachiikeen @duckymcdoorknob @kakiwrites @ebiharachan @r0binscript I wasn't sure if you guys still want to be tagged for this series, seeing that it has been over two years so let me know if you want me to remove you from the taglist.

Check out THIS POST to know what all characters I have written for in this series.

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