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communicationthroughlyrics · 4 months

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I Just Wanna be Yours

Summer in Westview hasn't officially started until the Rogers throw their annual Memorial Day Beach Bonfire. Now the torch was passed to Y/N Rogers, the local playgirl little sister of the boy next door, Steve Rogers. Your reputation preceded you for most, but you really only had your sights on one person.

One Wanda Maximoff.

TW: Daddy kink, smut, orgasm denial if you squint? Lol

A/N: Not proofread- let me know if you find any big errors :] Enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6K

Memorial Day weekend marks a few things for most. A long weekend, the start of summer break, barbecues, parties, and a day of remembrance. For those who attend Westview High? They circle the calendar for another reason- the annual Roger’s Family Party and Bonfire.

Your older brother Steve had restarted the tradition after finding out that your father threw the same party when he was in high school. Steve had been the All-American, the school’s Football and Baseball team captain. He was every girl’s dream high school sweetheart, kind to all, piercing stare paired with his dusky blue eyes, blonde crew-cut hair, and always clad in blue denim jeans with a t-shirt. His athletic build and confident stature paired with his boyish charm were endearing to all who attended high school with him, earning him the nickname "Captain America".

Now, it was you, in your senior year, carrying the torch that leads the who’s who of Westview High filling the Rogers family beach house for a day of barbecue (courtesy of Steve, equipped in nothing but swim trunks and his Grill Sergeant apron), music, booze, and a traditional bonfire on the beach at dusk. You had branched the family image out. You were the athletic, mysterious bad girl. Leather, ripped jeans, band shirts, tattoos, and piercings were more your speed, a stark departure from your brother’s more traditional appearance. You had recently made the switch from your long, charcoal locks to a short, spiky undercut that displayed more of the tattoos creeping up your neck.

Your upbringing was charmed, the typical "busy" American family with parents who were less than present. Your father was a hedge fund manager, your mother a successful lawyer. Both led busy careers that led them all over the country. You hardly saw them as a result, your nanny was more of a parental figure than your own. Steve was the consummate gentleman, while you ‘played the field’, having slept with most of the female population and moved to the neighboring schools. Even in Steve’s shadow, you were able to maintain a large social group, but never, really let anyone in.

That changed your sophomore year when a certain brunette walked in the front doors for her first day of school. Wanda Maximoff and her brother Pietro were star athletes in their own right. Pietro, the tall, silver-haired goofball was a track star from a rival high school, and stud midfielder on the pitch. Wanda, was a quiet, scholarly type, always in the top rankings in women’s golf and tennis. She was always willing to assist others with their academics, her affinity for science and math making her an asset for many. Her stormy, dark appearance kept most at bay, but she did have a tight-knit group of friends you never seemed to be able to penetrate.

You never seemed to be able to corner the green-eyed woman, wanting just a chance to talk, to get to know her. You were sure that her friends had warned her that all you would try to do was add her name as a notch on your bedpost. But this feeling Wanda gave you, whenever she shot you a shy smile or her viridescent eyes found you in class or at a tennis match, the butterflies and sweaty palms feeling, was beyond what you felt with others. She seems oblivious to the flirting thrown her way, many guys and girls trying to pull back her veil of mystery.

“Hey, sis.” Steve came charging down the stairs, clad in only his swim shorts as he made his way to the fridge, grabbing a protein smoothie from the confines of the fridge.

“Morning,” you mumbled through your mouthful of Lucky Charms.

He rolled his eyes at your antics, polishing off his drink before throwing the bottle in the trash. “What time did you tell everyone? I need to start getting the food ready.”

“12 at the earliest. Open house, people can come and go.” You respond.

"And don't forget about the bonfire. It's going to be a good one." He grinned, nodding in the direction of the backyard. "I've got everything set up. Should be ready to go by nightfall."

"How could I forget?" you fire back, shooting him a megawatt smile.

You glanced at him over your shoulder. His smile was contagious, and it was easy to see why everyone liked him. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, but you pushed it aside. You had your own life, your friends. You didn't need to compete with him for attention. He winked at you as he turned away, heading out back to fire up the massive grill on the back patio and get it ready for the multitudes of burgers, steaks, bratwurst, and chicken that were about to be strewn across it.

Your thoughts drifted back to Wanda, and you wondered if she'd show up. You hadn't seen her at school yesterday, but you hoped that maybe she had plans to come. It would be a shame if she didn't make it, but you had your things to do, your people to see. You finished off your breakfast, glancing at the clock that read 10:15 am before grabbing your keys and cell phone and heading out the door to pick up the booze, sodas, and ice you needed for today.

Your car, a shiny black Maserati GranTurismo, started on the first try as you backed out of the driveway and made your way down the quiet residential street. The sun was shining, the sky a brilliant blue, and the air smelled of freshly mown grass and the sweet scent of blooming flowers. You hummed along to the radio as you drove, taking a right at the end of the block and heading towards the local liquor store.

The parking lot was mostly empty, save for a few other early birds like yourself stocking up on supplies for their parties. You grabbed a cart and wheeled it over to the back of the store where the beer and soda coolers were. You spent the next few minutes selecting just the right mix of beers and sodas, making sure to get a variety of options for everyone. As you approached the front checkout, the cashier gave you a bright smile.

"This must be for the annual Rogers summer break kick-off,” he quipped, grabbing the scan gun and walking around the counter to begin scanning the items on your flatbed cart.

You grinned, a little embarrassed that the liquor store clerk had recognized your family's party. "Yeah, well... it's going to be a good one," you said, trying to play it cool.

He nodded, glancing up at you with a knowing look. "I'm sure it will. And don't worry, I've been to a few of these parties myself. I know how much work it is to make sure everything goes smoothly. Your family does a great job." His smile was genuine, and it made you feel a little less self-conscious about the attention your family's gatherings sometimes got. "Do you need any ice?"

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I'll take 12 bags, please." You added, reaching into your wallet to pay for the booze and sodas. As the cashier rang everything up, you glanced at the clock on the wall. You still had plenty of time to stop by the grocery store and pick up the rest of the food and supplies you needed.

The drive to the grocery store was uneventful, and you managed to get in and out of there with all your items promptly. As you loaded your car up with bags of chips, dips, and other snacks, your mind drifted to Wanda again. You wondered if Wanda would show up today, and hopefully, you would get the chance to talk to her.

When you finally pulled into your driveway and parked the Maserati in its spot, the yard was already filling up with cars and people were starting to mill about. The smell of charcoal smoke wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and music. You had to make multiple trips inside, but luckily your best friends Natasha and Maria were already there and helped you carry everything inside.

You had a couple of large coolers set aside for food, so Steve could keep the waiting items cold, and you could keep the typical sides like potato and macaroni salad chilled while the food was cooked. You had 2 coolers of sodas, and 5 coolers of booze to fill, which Nat and Maria quickly took over because they just wanted to throw ice at each other.

Taking the moment before more people started to arrive, you ran upstairs, getting into your black bikini, and black swim shorts and pulling a black tee shirt over your torso. There was no point in shoes, so you padded back downstairs barefoot, and out to the outdoor bar you would be manning.

As you were setting up the bar, more people began to filter in, and soon there was quite the crown milling in and out of the house. As you began making some drinks for a large group of people, you saw Wanda walk up with a couple of her friends, their laughter ringing through the yard. You couldn't help but smile as you watched her, her long brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and a cover-up over her barely there red bikini. She looked stunning, but little did you know that she would be putting on a show today, and you were the sole reason.

You caught her eye as she was making small talk with her friends, and she smiled back at you before walking over to the bar. "Hey, Wanda," you said with a grin, "Glad you could make it."

She returned the smile. "Thanks, I'm glad I did too. I haven’t been able to make the last couple of Rogers Family parties, and this looks like it's going to be a good time." She glanced around, taking in the crowd of people before leaning in closer to you. You gulp as her breasts push up her bikini top, almost taunting you. "So, what can I get from the bar? You've got quite the selection here."

You chuckled. "Well, you've got a variety of beers in the coolers, the proverbial White Claws and seltzers, some sangria in the far tap, and of course, my signature tropical punch." You nodded toward a tap of punch on the counter. "That's my specialty. It's got a bit of a kick to it, but I've had plenty of people tell me they like it." You winked at her, hoping she would take the hint.

Wanda considered your offer for a moment, her eyes lingering on the punch tap. "You know, I think I'll try that. I've never had your punch before, but it sounds delicious." She flashed you a dazzling smile, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest at the compliment. "Thanks, Y/N." You grabbed her cup, poured her a cupful, and slipped some fruit slices into her drink.

"There you go, Wanda," you turn, flashing a charming smile her way before sliding her drink over. "Have fun at the party." You wink again before turning to make some drinks for the group at the other end of the bar. You pretend to not notice the blush creep over her chest and face before she turns and saunters away, making sure to sway her hips to garner your attention.

As the day goes on, the party gets going. People are dancing, laughing, and enjoying themselves. You can't help but steal glances at Wanda now and then, watching as she lets loose and has a good time. She's enjoying your signature punch, and you're glad to see that it's helping her have a good time. Natasha took over for you after a couple of hours at the bar, and you found yourself poolside, laying on a lounge chair talking to one of your teammates from the softball team. Carol nodded at something over your shoulder, causing you to turn and almost spit out your drink.

Wanda was now walking towards you, throwing a towel down on a lounger a few spots from you. She sent you a shy smile, before turning her back and pulling the cover-up off her body. Your mouth went dry as you raked your eyes over her body, her milky-toned thighs and athletic body driving you insane. This is when you were glad for your dark sunglasses, as she bent over, straightening her towel on her chair. You were sure you were flush, as it took all of your willpower to pull your eyes off of her.

Carol smirked at you, slapping your shoulder as Wanda dove into the deep end of the pool.

"Looks like she's enjoying herself," your teammate chuckled.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, she is." You glanced back at Wanda as she floated on her back in the pool, her long brown hair spread out around her. The water seemed to cling to her skin, revealing every curve of her body. You couldn't help but feel a surge of arousal as the water continued to bead off her body as she swam around, talking to people who were also meandering in the pool.

You looked back at your teammate, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "I didn't realize she was this... attractive." You stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I mean, she's always been pretty, but... I dunno."

Carol almost choked on her drink, before looking at you bewildered. "Bullshit, Y/N. You've had a huge crush on her since she started at Westview."

You blushed even deeper at your teammate's words. You couldn't believe you hadn't realized it before. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just... I've never really thought about her like that." You stammered, not wanting to admit your true feelings.

"Well, maybe it's time you did." Carol grinned, nudging you with her shoulder. "She's single, you're single. You two would be perfect together. And judging by the way she looks at you, I think you may have a better chance than you realize."

You shook your head, feeling even more flustered. "I-I don't know, Carol. She's drunk, she’s just being flirty. She’s made it clear since she started at school that she wasn't interested."

Carol sighed, shaking her head. "Y/N, think about it. Have you ever seen her date someone at school?"

"No...I haven't."

"Exactly." Your friend rolled her eyes. "Well, you should probably make a move before someone else does. She's been single for a while, and I think she deserves someone who appreciates her." She paused, looking over at Wanda, who was currently laughing with some of her friends. "And I think you're the perfect girl for the job. And my god, does she need to be appreciated." she smiles, nodding in Wanda’s direction, causing you to look over and see her on Pietro’s shoulders, playing a game of chicken against Steve, who had Peggy on his shoulders.

You watched as she fought to knock Peggy off Steve's shoulders, her muscles flexing, her intoxicating laughter as the pair fought for bragging rights. Both women soon fell off their partner’s shoulders in tandem, a loud shriek coming from each of them.

Wanda swam to the end of the pool by your chair, pulling herself out, and giving you an up-close view of the water dripping down her body before she made her way over to the lounger that was a few down from you. Your gaze drifted over her body again, before realizing she was watching you watch her.

Her cheeks flushed, and she cleared her throat, trying to play it cool. "So, Y/N," she started, her voice slightly deep from the exhaustion of being in the pool, "I heard you're good at beach volleyball."

You looked over at her, not sure if she was just being friendly or if there was something more to it. You smiled, deciding to go along with it. "Well, I've been playing for a while. It's not that special, though."

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she took a seat on the lounger beside you. "Oh, please. Everyone here says that, but you're really good. I've seen you play volleyball at school a few times now. You're one of the best."

You blushed, looking away from her. "Oh, I dunno about that. There's a lot of other good players too."

She chuckled, leaning in closer to you. "Well, a group of people were gonna start a match down on the beach. Care to join us?"

You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Carol and the others. They were all busy talking and laughing with each other, and you didn't want to leave your friend alone. But the thought of spending more time with Wanda was too tempting to resist. "Sure," you finally said, standing up. "I'll meet you down there." You winked her way before going up to grab another drink.

As you made your way down to the beach, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. You hadn't talked to Wanda like this before, outside of the occasional hello or passing comment in class. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how much you enjoyed her company. She had a way of making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were around a group of people.

When you finally reached the beach, you saw Wanda standing near a group of people who were already gathering, clad in their swimwear as another crown began to flank the sides of the makeshift court to watch. She smiled brightly when she saw you approach, and her cheeks flushed slightly as she turned away to hide it. You smirked, setting the small cooler with water and Gatorades off to the side, swapping out your aviator sunglasses for the sports ones you wore out on the water.

You couldn't shake the feeling of someone watching as you played with a volleyball in your hands as you awaited the rest of the people who would be playing. Steve was carrying down a speaker so you had music to play to. Turning ever so slightly, you saw Wanda’s gaze locked on you, rather, your hands, as you threw the ball up and down. Deciding it was time to tease her a little bit back, you threw the ball to the ground and decided it was time to lose the Van Halen tee shirt.

She blushed even harder when she realized what you had done, but she quickly regained her composure, calling out for everyone's attention. "Alright, alright, let's get this game started!" she shouted, clapping her hands together. You pretend to not notice how she bit her lip when your abs made their debut, your tattoo down your side and back on full display.

The game started well, with everyone splitting up into teams. You found yourself on the same team as Wanda, and you couldn't help but feel a little cocky. Having her on your side was the perfect way to bump her around a little bit, to get close to her.

As the game progressed, you and Wanda worked well together, communicating seamlessly and reading each other's movements like a well-oiled machine. Your team began to dominate, and the other players started to take notice. Carol shot you a warning look, but you ignored it, focusing on the game and the girl beside you.

"Alright!" Carol stopped the game, calling an audible. "Nat and Wanda, switch!" she yelled, causing the two teams to moan.

You and Wanda exchanged a look before she shrugged and jogged under the net to switch sides, putting you across from each other. As you took your place on the court, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of nervous excitement. It was one thing to be teammates, but something else entirely to be opponents. You both smiled at each other, the tension between you seeming to grow in the air.

You shot her a sly smile, winking before Nat served the ball over the net.

You both watched the ball as it sailed through the air and then you moved into position, bending your knees as you readied yourself to spike it. The ball came down, and with a powerful swing of your arm, you sent it hurtling toward Wanda's side of the court. She jumped up, meeting the ball at the height of her reach, her fingers just managing to touch it before sending it flying back over the net. The two of you continued to volley back and forth, your movements becoming more fluid and in sync with each other.

The game progressed, and the other players began to fade into the background as you found yourself locked in a battle of wills against Wanda. Every time you sent the ball her way, she seemed to be waiting for it, her reactions sharper than ever. You couldn't help but wonder how much of this was due to the competition between you, and how much was simply her natural talent. Either way, it made for an intense match.

As the tension grew, you saw your opportunity. Wanda had just hit the ball high into the air, and you knew she would have a hard time reaching it. You took a step back, bending your knees, and then exploded forward, leaping into the air. Your hands connected with the ball, sending it flying toward her with all your might. But instead of aiming it at her side of the court, you spike it right at her feet.

"Fuck!" Wanda yells as Carol shoots you a warning glare. You fire a cocky smile back their way, before heading off the court.

She looks furious as you return to the sidelines, her face flushed and her breath coming in ragged gasps. You can't help but feel a little thrill at the power you have over her in this moment. You want nothing more than to see her lose control, to give in to her anger and frustration.

As you watch her compose herself, you can't help but admire her determination. Despite her best efforts to remain calm, you can see the fire in her eyes, the passion that drives her. It's a strange mixture of attraction and intimidation, and you find yourself drawn to it in a way you can't quite explain.

The next game starts, and you and Wanda are once again on opposing teams. This time, though, there's an undercurrent of tension that runs between you. Every time you make a move, she's there, anticipating it, blocking it with ease. It's almost as if she's reading your mind, knowing exactly what you're going to do before you even do it.

Finally, after multiple set matches, your team won the best of 7. Deciding that now was the time to get more to drink, you left the volleyball game in your brother’s capable hands as the guys began to play. You scooped up your shirt and towel, using the shirt to wipe some of the sand and sweat from your body. Now was the perfect time for a dip in the pool.

"Hey, wait up!" Wanda called after you, quickly catching up to your side. "You looked good out there," she admitted, her voice a little less sharp, but laced with a little bit more innuendo than it had been before. "I didn't expect you to be so... competitive."

You smiled over at her, feeling the heat of her gaze on your skin. "I've always been a bit of a natural athlete," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Besides, it's not like I don’t play sports at school or anything, Wanda."

She pursed her lips, considering this for a moment. "Yeah, but you never really seem so competitive in school," she said, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It's... nice to see another side of you." There was an almost wistful quality to her voice that you couldn't quite place.

You shrugged, not sure what to make of her reaction. "Well, I'm just a complex lady, you know? You never can tell what you're going to get with me." You flashed her a cocky grin, trying to lighten the mood. You had reached the pool at this point, so you threw your shirt and towel onto the closest empty chair. "I need to cool off." you smile at her, nodding to the pool.

Wanda smiled back, following your lead. "Yeah, it is pretty hot out here." She hesitated for a moment, then looked around at who was at the pool. As she looked around, you took the distraction as the perfect opportunity to sneak behind her, giving her a gentle push into the deep end of the pool. She let out a shrill shriek as she fell into the crisp water. You jumped in shortly after, wiping the water from your eyes as you surfaced.

"That was cold!" she exclaimed, splashing you playfully. "You asshole." You smiled and swam closer to her, grabbing her around the waist. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She struggled against you for a moment, but eventually gave in, relaxing in your grasp. You couldn’t help but feel the butterflies at the skin-on-skin contact, the electricity was palpable. You quickly realized the position you both were in and let Wanda go. She sent you a captivating smile before swimming over to some people who were calling her name. You pulled yourself out of the pool, drying yourself off before heading up to where Steve's best friend Bucky was manning the grill.

"Hey man, what's for lunch?" You asked as you approached him. He grinned, flipping a burger on the grill. "Well, if it isn't the champ herself! You guys just get done playing?"

You nodded, stretching your arms over your head. "Yeah, just now. Tough match." He chuckled, nodding in agreement. "But enough about that. I was asking what's on the menu. You got anything I can help with?"

Bucky smiled, handing you a pair of tongs. "Well, since you asked so nicely, I could use some help with these burgers. But as for the menu, we've got burgers, dogs, and some of that potato salad you brought. Oh, and don't forget the chips and salsa." You took the tongs gratefully, picking up a patty and flipping it over on the grill. The smell of sizzling meat filled the air, making your stomach rumble.

"Sounds good to me," you replied, watching the burger cook. "And thanks for having me, man. This party is shaping up to be a real blast." Bucky smiled, and you nodded his way. You glanced over at Wanda, who was still talking to some of her friends, then back at Bucky.

"Of course, Buck. You're always welcome here, you know. Mom and Dad love you." you smile as he slips a burger onto your dressed bun, and you flip its lid over onto the meat.

The sun beats down on the grass as you take a bite of your burger, feeling the juices dribble down your chin. Wanda finally finishes talking to her friends and makes her way over to you, a towel wrapped around her hips.

"Hey," she says with a smile, "this is quite the party, Y/N. Thanks for putting it on."

"You're welcome, Wands. I'm glad you’re having a good time."

"Could you do me a favor, Y/N?" she asked shyly. You looked at her, a bit taken aback by the sudden request. "Of course, Wanda. What do you need?"

She bit her lip, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. "Well, I was wondering if you could maybe help me with something." You nodded, waiting for her to continue. She held out a bottle of sunscreen, a flush on her features.

"I, uh... forgot to put some on earlier. And now I'm kinda burnt, and it's starting to sting. Do you think you could...?" She trailed off, looking up at you with those big, green eyes.

You couldn't help but smile at her. "Of course, Wanda. Let's go find a spot where we can sit down and take care of that." You lead her over to a nearby table and pull out a couple of chairs. As she sits down, you kneel in front of her and unwrap the towel, revealing her bare hips. Her skin is indeed a light shade of pink, so putting the sunscreen on now would save her a world of hurt later.

"Okay, just lay back and relax, I'll take care of you." You say, as you gently push her back into the chair. She lets out a soft sigh and tilts her head back, exposing her neck and shoulders. You take the bottle of sunscreen from her and unscrew the cap, then begin to rub a generous amount into her skin. You start at her lower back and work your way up, massaging the lotion into her flesh as you go. You pretend not to notice the goosebumps that erupt in the wake of your hands as you rub the lotion into her skin.

As you work your way up her back, you can't help but take in the softness of her skin, the way it feels beneath your fingertips. Her shoulder blades are sharp and defined, and you find yourself tracing them with your fingers, wondering what it would be like to touch her like this under different circumstances. You snap back to reality as you finish rubbing the sunscreen into her shoulders, feeling a bit guilty for letting your mind wander.

"There you go," you say, sitting back on your heels. "All done." Wanda sits up and turns to face you, blushing a deep shade of red. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. "I-I guess I should meet up with Agatha and Peggy down at the beach now." She bites her lip, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. She sends you a shy wave before getting up and running to her friends on the beach, jumping onto one of their backs. You continue to watch her from afar as you finish your food.

"Hey, Bucky. You wanna toss the frisbee around with me for a bit?" You ask your friend, trying to distract yourself from the strange feeling in your chest. Bucky nods and stands up, grabbing the frisbee from the table. The two of you make your way over to the beach, joining a group of other guys as you all start tossing the frisbee back and forth. The sun begins to set, painting the sky in a warm, orange glow. You feel your muscles loosen up and your mind begins to wander. A chill begins to set in as Steve gets ready to light the bonfire, and you are sure that a large group of people have left for the day. You glance around, disappointed when you don’t see Wanda. You decide to make your way into the house, heading upstairs to your massive bedroom, so you could change into some sweatpants and a hoodie.

As you're changing, you decide to take a quick shower, washing off the day's sweat and sand. The hot water feels good on your skin, but you can't help but feel a little off. You step out of the shower, drying off quickly and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. As you're about to step out of your bathroom, you are shocked when you walk into your room and see Wanda on your bed.

"Wanda?" You ask, confused. She looks up at you, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes glistening with mischief. "What are you doing here?"

She grins and shrugs her shoulders. "I-I just wanted to see you." Her voice is soft and hesitant, but there's a newfound confidence in her eyes that you haven't seen before. "I mean... I had fun today, and I didn't want to go home yet. All my friends have already gone home, so I went looking for you."

You're taken aback by her admission. You weren't expecting this at all. "Oh... well, uh... I'm glad you had fun. You can stay if you want." You gesture towards your bed, feeling a bit awkward now. You stand there, shocked at who is currently on your mattress. This is the first time you are unsure of what to do, or to say with an insanely attractive woman in your bed.

Wanda grins and climbs over to the other side of the bed, plopping down on the pillow. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate it." She looks around the room, taking in the band posters and trinkets, her eyes landing on your guitar. "So... what do you usually do when you're bored?"

You chuckle and sit down next to her on the bed. "Well, I play guitar sometimes. Or I'll watch a movie, or just hang out with my friends,” you smirk, walking over to the chair by your desk and sitting down backward on it. "But those are just fillers for my favorite pastime."

Wanda tilts her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "Oh? What's that?"

You grin, feeling a thrill run through you at the thought of what's next. She fell right into your trap if you want to call it that.

"Well, Wanda..." you eye her up and down, a slight smirk on your face. "I'm hoping it's going to be you."

She blushes deeply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again. There's a newfound fire in her eyes that makes your heart race. “That's quite the line, Y/N," she smirks back. "What makes you think I'm like the other girls who have fallen into your bed?"

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Oh, I don't think you're like them. I mean, I've seen how you are with people. You're sweet and funny, and..." you trail off, looking her up and down once more. "...and you're gorgeous." You stalk over to her, placing your knee in between her legs, and leaning close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. "But most of all, I think you're honest. And that's something I appreciate. You're not like the others."

She bites her bottom lip, looking into your eyes as she nods slowly. "And what if I wanted to be?" she whispers, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Well, that would be a shame, Maximoff." you start, as her gaze darts back and forth between your eyes.

"Oh?" she asks, inching closer to you, her lip trapped in between her teeth.

"Yeah. That’s what I like about you. You aren't like anyone else."

You lean in slowly, feeling the warmth of her breath mingle with yours as your lips meet hers. Wanda's mouth is soft and yielding, her tongue dancing against yours in a rhythm that sends shivers down your spine. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and around your neck, pulling you closer still.

She moans softly into the kiss, arching her back off the bed and grinding her hips against you. You can feel the heat between your legs, and you're aching to touch her, to feel her skin against yours. Your hands wander down her back, over the curve of her ass, and up underneath her shirt. You can feel the soft skin of her stomach, the warmth of her breasts pressed against your palms.

Her hands slip under your shirt, feeling the muscles in your back, before moving up to cup your neck, her thumbs brushing against your jaw. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you deepen the kiss, wanting more. Wanda's tongue darts out, teasing your lips before delving back in, their rhythm growing faster and more intense. The tandem you made out on the volleyball court seemed to carry over to the bedroom, as you both responded to each other’s bodies.

When you both needed to come up for air, you pulled away, resting your forehead on hers.

"I've been waiting a while to do that," you whispered, staring at her kiss-swollen lips.

Wanda smiled, tracing a finger along your jaw. "I'm glad you finally did." She leaned in, pressing her lips against yours again, their heat melding together. Her tongue darted out, exploring your mouth as your hands tangled in her hair, holding her close.

The passion between you was palpable, and you could feel it building with each passing second. Her body was pressed tightly against yours, her hips grinding against your erection as she moved in time with your kiss. Your heart raced, and your blood pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else. You had all but forgotten the party downstairs as you pushed Wanda's bikini-clad body further onto your bed.

The arousal was obvious as you caught a glimpse of the darker spot on her bikini bottom, and the glimmer that coated the inside of her creamy thighs. You groaned as you hovered over her, trapping her beneath your body weight.

"Oh, I like you like this," you breathed, as she arched her back upwards, pressing her chest against yours.

She tugged at your hoodie as her blown pupils found yours. "For someone who has been waiting for this for so long, you sure do have a lot of clothes on."

Your heart skipped a beat as her words sent a thrill through you. You leaned down, kissing her neck, and her collarbone, before moving back up to capture her lips once more. The taste of her, the feel of her skin, was intoxicating. You could feel the heat between your legs, and the need to be inside her growing more urgent with every passing second.

With a groan, you peeled off your hoodie, and then your bra, tossing them to the floor before pushing her bikini bottoms down her hips, revealing her smooth, toned legs. She gasped as you parted her legs, laying yourself between them. You ground your hip upwards into hers, allowing her to feel the strap-on that was hidden under your sweatpants.

Her eyes went wide, and she arched her back off the bed, her hands clawing at your shoulders. "You've got a strap-on?" she breathed. You laughed, pecking at the side of her neck, up to her ear.

"Daddy is always packing, baby," you whisper in her ear, licking the shell.

Wanda shudders, her breath catching in her throat. She reaches down between your bodies, feeling the thick length of the strap-on, her fingers wrapping around the base. "Oh, God," she moans, grasping at the waistband of your sweats, trying to get them off as quickly as she could in her state.

Her movements only serve to further arouse you, and you lean in, nipping at her collarbone as you watch her fingers fumble with your clothes. You help her out, yanking your sweats down your legs, revealing the hard cock beneath. She gasps, her eyes going wide with desire as she takes in the sight of you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she breathes as you push her thighs further apart and position yourself between her legs. You grasp the base of the strap-on, guiding it to her entrance, you can practically feel the heat and wetness of her waiting for you. She arches her back, lifting her hips off the bed, practically begging you to enter her. With a groan, you push forward, watching the head of your cock slip inside her.

Her muscles grip you tightly, her walls milking you as you begin to thrust slowly, feeling her body stretch to accommodate your size. You look down at her, at the way her eyes are closed and her lips parted, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. You reach down between them, teasing her clit with your thumb, feeling her tense and shudder beneath you.

"Fuck, Y/N," she moans, arching her back and meeting your thrusts with her own. "So big... so good..." Her fingernails scrape down your back, leaving trails of pleasure-tinged pain as you continue to pound into her. She's so wet, so ready for you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the sensation of her greedy pussy swallowing the toy before you, her vanilla perfume mixed with sweat and the smell of the sunscreen you applied earlier invading your senses, and her whimpering, whiny sounds as you mercilessly thrust the dildo into her.

Her hips rise off the bed, her breasts heaving as she pushes herself up towards you, her expression a mix of ecstasy and agony. You can feel the tension building inside her, the telltale tightening of her muscles as she nears her peak. You slow your thrusts, savoring the feel of her body moving against yours, her body milking the cock attached to your hips with each slow, deliberate push.

"Ask for permission to cum, baby." you kiss the valley between her supple breasts, her hands running through your hair.

"Y-yes, Daddy," she stammers, her hips undulating against yours, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. "I want to cum so badly..."

"Aww, baby," you tweak her nipple between your fingers, causing her to clamp her eyes shut and a pornographic moan to come from her. "You can do better than that for Daddy."

Her breath comes out in ragged gasps as you continue your slow, steady rhythm, your hips moving in perfect synchronization with hers. Her hands grasp at the sheets, her nails digging into the fabric as she fights to keep herself grounded. "I'm close, Daddy," she whimpers, her body starting to tremble beneath yours. "Please..."

"Please, what?"

Wanda's eyes snap open, her pupils dilated as she looks up at you with a pleading expression. "Please let me cum, Daddy. Please let me feel you inside me." Her voice is ragged, her body shaking with the effort of holding back. You can feel her muscles tense and release, her pussy clenching, her breath hot against your skin.

You look down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and the way her breasts heave with each ragged breath. "You're doing so good, baby," you whisper. "Just a little bit longer for me, okay?"

Her eyes closed, her head falling back against the pillow in submission. "Please Daddy," she whimpers, her body arching upward in surrender. She holding on to everything she has, you can tell she is fighting for her release.

"Fucking beg, Wanda. Let me know how close you are."

Her eyes snap open, her pupils dilated, and her expression a mix of pain and ecstasy. "I'm so close, Daddy! I need you to make me cum! Please, Daddy, let me cum!" she whimpers and moans, burying her face into your neck as her nails rake down your back, leaving trails of fire behind them.

Her hips buck up against yours, her inner muscles gripping you tightly, her body tense with the effort of holding back. Her breath comes out in short, ragged gasps, her chest heaving with each one. You can feel the tension building inside her, the anticipation coiling tighter and tighter.

"Let go for me beautiful, let me see how I make you feel."

You watch as Wanda's eyes close, her head falling back against the pillow, her lips parting as she takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Her body tenses, every muscle in her abdomen tensing as she lets go. Her fingernails dig into your back, her hips undulating against yours, stuttering as her orgasm rips through her body.

"Oh, Y/N!" she screams, her voice muffled by your shoulder. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" Her inner muscles squeeze you tightly, her pussy milking your fake cock as her pleasure washes over her in waves. Her body arches upward, her breasts spilling from your grasp, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. Her eyes flutter open, looking up at you with a mixture of shock and ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," you whisper, your voice rough with desire. "Let it all out for me." Her hips buck wildly against yours, her nails raking down your back, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tries to catch her breath. Her orgasm seems to go on forever, her body shuddering with pleasure as she clings to you, her lips parting in a silent moan.

Her pussy grips you tightly, her inner walls fluttering around your fake cock as she comes down from her peak. You watch in awe as her features soften, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing begins to steady. Her body is still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure, her nipples hard and aching for your touch. You brush your fingers over them, circling and teasing as you continue to thrust slowly inside her.

"That's it, baby. Just relax and enjoy." You whisper, your voice gentle and soothing. Her body responds to your touch, her hips moving in time with yours as she leans into the sensation. Her eyes open lazily, meeting yours with a look of contentment and gratitude.

"Oh...my...god, Y/N," she started, her breathy, husky voice making you swoon. Her body trembled beneath yours as she reveled in the afterglow of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched tightly around your fake cock, her inner walls milking you with each gentle thrust. Her eyes were half-lidded, gazing up at you with a look of pure adoration and desire. Her eyes widened as you lowered yourself down her body, the realization of what you were about to do hitting her. "Y/N, honey I don't think I can..."

"Shhhh, Wands, I've got you. Don't think. You have one more for me, I know you do."

Your words seem to have the desired effect as her body tenses, her breath catches in her throat. Her eyes closed, her expression one of concentration and determination. You gently blow a burst of air to her sodden sex, before nudging her perky clit with your nose.

"Oh fuck, Daddy!" she groans, arching her back as her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands grab fistfuls of your hair, urging you closer, wanting more. Her inner muscles clench and release around nothing as you kiss around her lower lips. Once you dive into her, you plunge two fingers into her as you lick at her swollen clit. You alternate between lapping at her juices, sucking on her swollen clit, and twisting your fingers around to hit the spongy spot inside her, determined to make her cum harder than ever before.

Her legs tremble beneath her, her toes curl as her orgasm builds quickly. She cries out your name, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her body quakes as she holds her orgasm back. You can feel her pussy clenching tightly around your fingers and tongue as her inner walls spasm uncontrollably, her muscles relaxing and tensing in perfect rhythm with your ministrations.

Finally, with a long, drawn-out moan, she arches her back, her hands gripping your hair, her hips bucking wildly against your face. Her orgasm ripples through her, shuddering through her body as her inner muscles squeeze and release around you. Her juices coat your tongue and flow down your throat as you drink in her ecstasy. Her legs tremble, her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs locked you between them, and you swore that you could die then and there, and be happy.

Slowly, you pull back, watching her eyes as they refocus on you. She looks dazed, her lips swollen from your kisses and her cheeks flushed from her exertions. She reaches out, trailing her fingers down your chest, over your abs and lower, until she cups your sex that was surely dripping down your thighs. You had dreamt of this moment, of when Wanda Maximoff would end up here, and now, you wanted nothing more than to keep her here forever.

You fell next to her, a sweaty and panting mess, as she rolled over on top of you. "I am so glad I showered," you laugh, looking into her adoring eyes.

"Must be nice," she laughed, as your eyes drifted over her body once more, her breasts hanging before you as she hovered over your body. She sat back, resting on your lower abdomen, shrieking as the dildo still attached to your hips poked her ass.

"Well, now I think I need another," you laugh as you prop yourself up, pecking at her lips as her arms wrapped behind your neck.

"Yeah you do, Y/N," she smiled her million-dollar smile. "But, this time I think you should invite someone to join you."

You raise your eyebrow, gazing into the pools of sea green before you. "Oh really? Maybe I'll invite Nat. She said she needed her monthly shower."

Wanda giggles, shaking her head. "You're an ass, Y/N."

You feign offense, gasping as you rest a hand on your chest. "Wanda! Is that what you think of me?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "No, idiot. You should invite someone else. Like me. I could use a shower." she leans forward, tracing her finger between your breasts before looking back up at you, her lip caught in her teeth again.

"You keep doing that, Wanda, you're going to lose your lip," you pull it out from her teeth, before leaning in and kissing her gently and passionately. Your hands slid to her back, pulling her closer to you. She moaned into the kiss, grinding herself down onto your lap, causing you to moan when she pushed the toy into you. You shuffled her and yourself over to the edge of the bed, without breaking the kiss.

As your lips finally parted, you gazed into her eyes, seeing the lust and desire there, and knew that she wanted this as much as you did. "Well, if you insist, darling," you grinned, leaning in and taking her nipple into your mouth, sucking on it roughly. Her back arched, a quiet moan escaping her throat. "But I'm going to need you to be good."

She smiled down at you, her hands running through her hair, flinging it to one side. "Oh, Y/N," she sighed, "I'm always good." With that, she lowered herself down, taking the dildo back into her warmth, moaning at the intrusion. You groaned at the sight, watching as she began to rock her hips back and forth.

Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard and pebbled. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of your head, her hips moving faster as she began to ride you. Her skin was hot against yours, and the scent of her arousal filled the air.

"Fuck, Wanda," you rolled your head back at the feeling of her rocking against you, but her hands ran up the back of your neck and into your hair, guiding you back to her.

"C'mon, Daddy. Take me to the shower," she smirked, knowing that this was going to be a challenge. You firmly grasped her ass, stilling her motions as you lifted her till the toy was almost fully removed, before slamming her back down onto it. You smirk at the moan that left her, as you wrapped her legs around you, standing up to walk to the bathroom.

The cool air of the bathroom hits you both as you make your way to the shower, Wanda's nails dragging down your back as she holds on tight. You can feel her dripping down the front of you, her arousal making a mess of you. You step into your shower, slamming her against the wall and thrusting into her.

She gasps, her head thrown back as you take her roughly. Her hands slide up your chest, over your shoulders, and into your hair, tugging you down so that you're looking her in the eye. She leans forward, their lips just inches apart, her breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to come, Y/N," she whispers, her hips bucking against you.

"Fuck, Wanda," you gasp as you roughly fuck her against the cool tile wall. "You drive me insane."

She whimpers, arching her back as she comes, her legs wrapping tighter around you, her nails digging into your shoulders. Her inner walls clench around you, milking your cock, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Her lips part, and she gasps, her breath ragged as she tries to catch it. Her eyes close, her head thrown back against the wall as she comes down from her orgasm.

"Fuck," you groan, thrusting one final time into her, your release taking over. You grip her ass, feeling her walls clench around the toy as your orgasm drips down your thighs.

She sighs, her body still pressed against yours as she comes down from her high. You lean against the wall, watching her as she runs her hands through her hair, looking somewhat dazed.

"Well," you say with a smile, "That wasn't how I anticipated today going," You reach over and turn on the shower, letting the water wash over your bodies, helping to cool you down.

You can feel Wanda leaning against you, her breath still ragged from their exertions. "Yeah," she says softly, "I think... I think we both needed that." She presses her body closer to yours, their skin slick with sweat and sex.

You let the water rinse away the sweat and your cum, the heat from the spray adding another layer of sensation to your already overloaded senses. You idly run your fingers through the water, tracing patterns on her back, feeling the play of muscle beneath your touch.

Wanda leans in, pressing her lips to yours, her tongue darting out to greet yours, her hands slipping beneath the water to cup your ass. You moan into her mouth, feeling her strength and her desire pressing against you, the wet heat of her body. She breaks the kiss, breathlessly, her chest heaving as she looks into your eyes.

"I think we need to get down to the bonfire before Steve or Pietro come looking for us," Wanda laughs.

"You think they'd care?" you ask with a grin, as you step out of the shower and help her dry off.

Wanda laughs, shaking her head. "Probably not. But we don't want to give them an excuse to tease us, do we?" She winks, slipping on one of your loose tank tops and a pair of sweatpants. You nod in agreement, pulling on a clean pair of sweatpants and your hoodie.

"Y/N?"

You turn to face Wanda, who is leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, her expression a mix of mischief and concern. Her hair is still damp from their shower, and you can't help but smile as you take in her beauty. You swoon at the sight of her damp hair and her wearing your clothes.

"What's wrong, Max?"

Her expression softens at your use of her nickname. "Nothing, just... I don't want to go back out there and pretend that nothing happened, you know? I just want to stay with you."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Me too."

Taking her hand, you lead her back out through the house, watching the shocked gazes of those who remain. You wind through the sea of people, walking down the timber steps and out to the beach. The bonfire crackles and spits, casting flickering shadows across the group of people gathered around it. You can see Steve and Pietro laughing together, sharing a drink. They look up as you approach, their expressions changing from amusement to surprise as they see Wanda's damp hair, and her wearing your clothes.

"You two been having fun?" Steve asks, the humor lacing his voice.

Wanda laughs, shrugging. "You know, just us." She leans into you, resting her head on your shoulder. You wrap an arm around her, feeling the warmth of her body through your thin sweatshirt.

Steve grins. "Well, you two should get back out there. I'm sure there's plenty of people who'd love to party with you." He winks, and you can't help but chuckle. Pietro sends you a warning glare.

"Y/N, if you hurt her, I swear..." he growls, as Wanda blushes before burying her face in your chest.

You laugh, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Don't worry, Pietro." As you say this, you glance down at Wanda, feeling a pang in your chest at the thought of her being hurt. It's been so long since you've felt this way about someone. You've been alone for so long, just surviving day by day, that the idea of losing her... it terrifies you. "I may have a reputation," you continue. "but Wanda is the last one that I would do that to."

Wanda looks up at you, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She grabs your hand, squeezing it. "Thank you, Y/N." Her voice is barely a whisper.

Pietro nods, seeming satisfied for now. "Alright, you two. Have fun." He slaps your shoulder, then takes another beer from the cooler before heading back into the crowd.

You lead Wanda back towards the fire, feeling the warmth of it on your skin. She leans into you, her body pressed against yours as if she's afraid to let go. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close. The music starts up again, and the party seems to find its rhythm once more.

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marxism-transgenderism · 2 years

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As the key witness for the prosecution, the Houston rapper, real name Megan Pete, described her account of night of July 12, 2020, saying on record that the assault was the result of an argument she had with Lanez, real name Daystar Peterson, and Kelsey Harris, her former best friend and assistant, while driving home from a Hollywood Hills pool party in the early morning hours.

Wearing a purple suit, red-bottom, black stilettos and a black bob hairstyle, Pete, 27, testified that the shooting and its aftermath have impacted her health, both physically and mentally. "I can't even be happy," she said, her voice breaking during her afternoon testimony. "I can't hold conversations with people for a long time. I don't feel like I want to be on this earth. I wish he would have just shot and killed me, if I knew I would have to go through this torture."

The Grammy winner recounted that she and Peterson had an intimate but not exclusive relationship in 2020, one that Harris did not know about at the time. Pete knew Harris had a "crush on" Tory, so she hid the relationship. (When asked specifically why she had not previously revealed the nature of her relationship with Peterson, Pete said she was embarrassed, "because it's disgusting at this point. How could I share my body with someone who could do this to me?")

The fight in the vehicle started when Peterson hinted at the relationship to Harris and then tried to pit the two women against each other, calling them "bitches and hoes" in the car.

Pete testified that, after exiting the vehicle for a second time on the drive home, Peterson shouted at her, "Dance, bitch," then fired five shots at her from the passenger side, striking her in the feet. "I felt shocked. I felt hurt. I wasn't sure if this was really happening. I looked at my feet, I saw the blood and I fell to the ground," the "WAP" star testified.

When expressly asked about changing her story to police the night of the shooting — from stepping in glass to allegedly being shot by Peterson — Pete gave context for her choice in the moment, starting with her distrust of the police.

"I don't feel safe in the car. I don't feel safe with the police," Pete said between tears as she described the aftermath of the incident, when responding officers had her, Peterson, Harris and Jaquan Smith, Peterson's bodyguard, step out of the vehicle they were stopped in.

Pete, who shared that she's grown up deeply suspicious of cops, said that wariness was further stoked by the 2020 climate, George Floyd's murder and subsequent Black Lives Matter protests: "In the Black community — in my community — it's not really acceptable to be cooperating with police officers."

Pete then spoke briefly about how "women aren't believed when they speak out." George Mgdesyan, Peterson's attorney, objected on the grounds that the comment was tangential to the case.

Beyond fear of the police and questions surrounding survivor credibility, Pete also shared the concern that implicating Peterson could negatively impact her career in hip-hop.

"This situation has only been worse for me and it has only made him more famous," Pete said during morning testimony. "Because I was shot, I've been turned into some kind of villain, and he's the victim. This has messed up my whole life ... This whole situation in the industry is like a big boy's club ... I'm telling on one of y'all friends, now you're all about to hate me."

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edenesth · 5 months

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TWTHH Spinoff: Little Touch of Heaven [2]

Pairing: physician!Yunho x herbalist!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 8.1k

Summary: Dedicating his life to his work, Yunho had never bothered to entertain the idea of settling down. Despite encountering many charming women throughout his career, none had sparked his desire for companionship. But everything shifted when he met a certain herbalist whose medicinal knowledge seemed to surpass even his own. What began as mere intrigue might have gradually developed into affection.

Part 1 | Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist

"Yep, you definitely have a crush on her," Jongho's voice startled the physician as he appeared soundlessly by the entrance of the House of Lotus just as Yunho finished recounting what happened to the general. His wife listened patiently beside him, her smile knowing.

"What—hey! Have you been eavesdropping this entire time? That's rude. This is a private and confidential conversation between the couple and myself," the doctor stammered, feeling embarrassed beyond belief. He couldn't believe he had been foolish enough to think this could actually stay between him and Lady Park. At this point, the whole estate was going to find out.

"You seem oddly defensive, Physician Jung. That just further proves you are flustered and that you do indeed like Miss Ryu. Besides, I don't see anything private and confidential about that story. Sounds more like your desperate attempt to save face," the assistant retorted in his usual clever tone as he entered the room, having received a nod of approval from his master.

Yunho let out a defeated sigh, realising that while he might stand a chance at winning an argument with Hongjoong, the same couldn't be said for Jongho. The assistant could be merciless and would stop at nothing to have the last word. Glaring at the younger man, he muttered, "Yes, yes. Just you wait until your turn comes. I'd like to see how cool you are when you meet the girl of your dreams."

"Don't worry, that'll never happen," Jongho answered, his tone smug.

With a shake of his head, Seonghwa straightened up, "He's right, Yunho. Even the blind can tell you have a crush. But what is it, Jongho? Did something come up?"

The assistant nodded, "Yes, Royal Secretary Choi is here with the latest reports and minutes of the past week's assemblies. He's waiting for you in the study, unless you'd like me to bring him here too."

Choking on his tea, the doctor stared up at him, bewildered, "And why the hell would you do that? It's enough that you two already know about this, now you want the royal secretary to hear about it too?"

At that, the general and his wife burst into giggles. Finally satisfied and deciding not to tease the poor guy any further, Seonghwa pushed himself off his seat, "Have a little mercy on him, gosh," he said, turning to his wife and pressing a kiss onto her head, "You ladies continue. I'll see you later, my love."

"This is how you repay me for treating your wife," Yunho grumbled.

Pausing at the entrance of the room, the general softened and turned around, "You know, it's nice to see this side of you. This Miss Ryu must be pretty amazing to make you like this, I approve of her already. Make sure you invite us to the wedding," he said before leaving with Jongho.

"W-wedding? I don't even think she likes me at all. If anything, she probably hates me after what happened," the physician sighed.

Lady Park smiled reassuringly, a hand stroking her baby bump as she spoke, "I disagree. She did agree to teach you about herbs, tried to save you from your fall, and was even kind enough to bring you a change of clothes when she could have left you be."

"So, you think she likes me back?" His eyes brightened with hope.

She considered her words carefully before responding, "Hmm, not necessarily."

His disappointment was palpable as he slumped slightly, "My lady, please don't confuse me further."

With a gentle chuckle, the mistress clarified, "What I mean is that she probably does not hate you at all. Sure, you were a little clumsy around her, but that's not nearly enough to make her hate you. There's a chance she might grow to like you back. Don't be too dejected, Yunho; there's still hope."

God, I sure hope so.

Meanwhile, your parents hadn't stopped talking about the physician since that day. Your father eagerly handed over one of his many spare outfits kept at the store for emergencies, finally putting it to good use after Yunho's fall left his clothes soaked. You recalled trying your hardest to keep a straight face as the tall man emerged in your father's hanbok, which was slightly too short for him, ending above his ankles and making him look rather ridiculous.

"Right, well, I still have much left to do today. I don't think I'll be able to finish in time if I have to teach you. Perhaps you should come back another day, Physician Jung."

That wasn't a lie.

It wasn't that you were angry with him or anything; you could tell he was remorseful with his endless apologies. You could imagine the embarrassment he was feeling, and you didn't really blame him, but you genuinely wanted to finish up with your Sophora root harvesting, which you had obviously failed to even begin thanks to him. So you would really appreciate it if he could come back some other time for his session.

"Of course, Miss Ryu. Again, I'm so sorry—"

You lifted a hand to stop him with a shake of your head, "It's fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I really have no time to talk."

It had been a few days since then.

According to your father, Yunho had left somewhat dejectedly after purchasing a good amount of those Chinese herbs you'd recommended for Lady Park. You supposed that meant they were effective, and you were just glad you had been able to help.

"Sunshine, you must have been too blunt. You'll scare him away like that, and you shouldn't because he's such a good guy. For all we know, this could be the start of something great," your mother said as she handed you a bowl of congee for breakfast.

You rolled your eyes in response, "Oh my god, mother. You've been saying that for the past few days. I heard you the first time."

Just as you were about to start eating, she smacked you on the arm, scolding, "Then why won't you reflect on yourself and change? You really want to give me high blood pressure, don't you?"

"Ow!" you rubbed your arm, pouting at her, "What do you want me to do? It's not my fault he hasn't shown up yet. Besides, if that was all it took to scare him away, then maybe he's not the one," you said before making a face when you realised what you'd just said, "More importantly, nothing is going on between us. He's only coming to learn more about herbs and improve as a medical practitioner. Seems to me like you and father are making a fuss out of nothing."

Your father sighed as he took a seat across from you, "Listen, sunshine. I can tell he likes you. It was evident in his behaviour that day. He's usually so composed, but he seemed genuinely flustered."

After hastily finishing the congee, you chuckled and set your bowl down, "Come on, father. You've only ever been in one relationship. Since when are you an expert in this department?" you teased before growing serious and wiping your mouth clean.

"And for the last time, my dearest father and mother, the two people I love most in the world, can you please respect my wishes? I won't be able to continue seeing Physician Jung if you keep making things weird like this. I've made my stance on marriage very clear. I'm not interested, and I still am not. I've finally found a friend who shares my passion for herbs, and I want to keep things that way. Please don't make me regret it."

As you spoke those honest words, a stunned silence filled the room. Your parents exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from surprise to realisation. They had always admired your patience, your selflessness, and your unwavering dedication to your family. But in their pursuit of what they thought was best for you, they had overlooked your desires and feelings.

Your father's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand, "Sunshine, we never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. We only wanted what we thought was best for you, but we see now that we may have been misguided."

Your mother nodded, her voice trembling with emotion, "You've always been so selfless. We should have listened to your wishes instead of imposing our own desires onto you. We're truly sorry."

Seeing the genuine remorse in their eyes, your heart softened. While you understood their actions were driven by good intentions, they may not have realised that their approach inadvertently caused you more distress than anything. You were just relieved they were willing to listen to you and acknowledge their mistake.

"It's okay, father, mother," you said softly, giving their hands a reassuring squeeze, "I know you only want what's best for me. Let's learn from this and move forward together."

"Here goes nothing," Yunho muttered under his breath as the apothecary came into view. This would be his first appearance since the embarrassing last impression he had left, and he was determined to salvage it. Holding his breath, he stepped into the store, expecting to see Mr. Ryu alone at his counter as usual. However, he was surprised to find you dressed more formally than usual, appearing to be preparing to go somewhere.

Upon hearing his entrance, you turned to face him with a raised brow, "Oh, you're here. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to teach you today. Our foreign medicine supplier has arrived, and I have to go to the ship dock to collect our latest batch of orders."

The physician felt like he could finally breathe again, relieved by your casual reaction to his presence. Perhaps Lady Park was right; you weren't angry with him nor did you hate him. Smiling, he reassured you, "Oh, it's alright. I understand. I can come back another day. Are you going with Mr. Ryu then? Will the shop be closing?"

You shook your head, "Oh no, not at all. It's just me. My father remains here, and business will go on as usual. He's at the back of the store; he'll be here soon if you wish to speak with him."

She's going alone? To the dock?

"I... uh, I'm just wondering, is it really safe for you to go alone? Places like that are often crowded with men. And how will you manage to carry all those supplies by yourself?" he asked, his worry evident.

With a smirk, you replied, "Are you underestimating me, Physician Jung? Do you truly believe it's my first time handling this? I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I'll manage just fine."

Right on cue, your father emerged from the back of the store, "Ah, you've come, Physician Jung! Are you here for another session with my daughter? She may have already mentioned her plans for today, but perhaps you could accompany her."

Before Yunho could respond, you firmly shook your head, "There's no need for that, father. I'm certain he's a very busy man and probably has better things to do than accompany me to the dock."

The physician quickly interjected, "No, I don't. That's why I'm here today. I don't mind going with you. It could be a valuable experience, and I might learn something from it too," he reasoned.

You sighed, not oblivious to the knowing grin your father was sending the taller man. With a roll of your eyes, you motioned for him to follow, "Suit yourself. Come along then, there's no time to waste."

As the two of you set out towards the ship dock in town, his tall frame loomed beside you, serving the fantastic purpose of shielding you from the glaring sun. Breaking the silence, you ventured, "So, I'm assuming the Codonopsis roots and Colla Corii Asini were effective in helping Lady Park feel better? Since you got more on your last visit."

He beamed, nodding in agreement, "Oh, yes! They really were. I was planning to tell you about it on my last visit, but, well, you know..." He trailed off, trying to move past the incident before continuing, "But yes, they did wonders. Her morning sickness and fatigue improved immensely soon after taking only the first batch. If we continue to administer this, she should be able to get through the first three months with ease. And I... I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you so much, Miss Ryu."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread in your heart at the knowledge that your expertise had been put to good use, that you had been of help. Moments like these made you feel as though all the hard work you had put into studying had paid off; the sense of accomplishment was truly remarkable. With a nonchalant shrug, you responded earnestly, "Just doing my job."

Becoming increasingly intrigued by the conversation about medicine, he eagerly delved further, "I've been pondering it, and I'm still astounded by your depth of knowledge, even in foreign herbs. Frankly, I believe you surpass some senior experts in the field. It may be impertinent of me to ask, but... what's your secret?"

With a soft laugh, you shook your head, "Sometimes, there are aspects that textbooks and conventional lessons fail to impart. That's why hands-on experience is crucial. There's no secret to my knowledge; I simply allow my curiosity to guide me and take the initiative to delve deeper beyond the fundamentals. You'll see firsthand in just a moment. Perhaps it's good you came."

Just when he thought his admiration for you had reached its peak, you consistently proved him wrong. Beyond your shared passion for medicinal knowledge, there was an intangible quality that distinguished you from other women he had met. You exuded confidence in yourself, not in a brash manner, nor did you conform to the typical feminine archetype attempting to win his favour. Instead, you were authentically yourself. Every action you took reflected your unique personality, which he found irresistibly appealing.

Where have you been all this while?

He couldn't fathom that you had been so close yet remained unknown to him for all these years. As a devoted patron of your father's apothecary, he had frequented the establishment without ever realising that you were nearby, just behind the store's walls. He couldn't be more grateful to fate for allowing him to finally cross paths with you.

"Woah, watch your step!" Your warning snapped him out of his thoughts as you pulled him close, narrowly avoiding a hole in the uneven road. You slapped him on the arm and said, "Please pay attention to where you're going. The roads here won't be as well-paved as the ones in the city, since we're now on the outskirts. Come on and stay close; we're almost there."

With a chuckle, he rubbed his arm and playfully saluted, "Yes, ma'am." He couldn't believe you had slapped him so casually; no one had ever done that. His heart fluttered at the interaction, realising that's what he liked so much about you. Since day one, you have been unpretentious. Around you, he felt comfortable enough to be himself again. There was no need to uphold the image of the perfect physician everyone knew him to be. He could be silly, clumsy, a mess, and you'd never make him feel bad about it.

As you arrived at the ship dock, Yunho's sense of wonder was palpable. The place bustled with activity, just as he had anticipated, mostly with men who appeared to be merchants conducting exchanges or, like yourself, collecting orders directly from suppliers. He made sure to stay close to you, feeling reassured when you took hold of his wrist to guide him through the crowd towards your destination.

"First time here?" you smirked, noting his slightly overwhelmed expression, to which he nodded hesitantly, "Y-yes."

You snickered, "Figures. Just stick with me, and you'll be fine."

He nervously bit his lip, "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere without you. Don't worry."

"See that ship right at the end?" you asked, pointing towards one of the largest vessels in the area as you both approached it. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"That's our supplier, kind of a family business," you explained, "The Guo family from China has been in this trade for years. They're known to grow their own herbs and supply them all over the region."

You smirked as the familiar face of Madam Guo came into view, "And there's the lady boss who handles customers while the boss checks the stocks. Don't worry, she's actually the owner's wife, so you won't embarrass yourself like you did before again," you teased, playfully reminding him of his previous mistake, which flustered him.

"Oh my god, it was one mistake—"

A new voice chimed in as you both reached the ship, "Ah, my dearest Miss Ryu!" The woman exclaimed with a thick Chinese accent as she stepped forward to embrace you. You chuckled, returning the hug, "It's lovely to see you again, Madam Guo."

"And who might this handsome young man be? Finally got yourself a chaperone, I see," Madam Guo asked, her playful tone evident as she wiggled her brows.

You scoffed in disbelief, "Him, a chaperone? More like the other way around. But anyway, he's a friend, or perhaps an apprentice, whichever works. He's a physician here to learn more about herbs."

Did she just call me her friend...?

"Y-yes, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam Guo. My name is Jung Yunho, and I'm a physician just as Miss Ryu said," he greeted, bowing respectfully, doing everything to remain composed and hide the fact that he was dying on the inside.

The middle-aged woman grinned knowingly, "Nice to meet you too, Physician Jung. But is that really all you are? What a shame, you two would make a cute couple."

While he sputtered like a fool, you snorted and gestured for her to focus, "Please, let's get down to business."

"Of course, sweetie. Follow me," she said, throwing a teasing wink at Yunho before wrapping an arm around you and leading you towards the bags of supplies lined up in front of the ship, "So, how are your parents doing, Miss Ryu?" As you engaged with the woman, the doctor couldn't shake her words from his mind. 'A cute couple' — he liked that idea more than he cared to admit. If only it could come true, he wouldn't mind being mistaken for a couple with you.

The bond between you and Yunho strengthened significantly after your eventful joint excursion to the ship dock. He proved to be quite helpful, offering to carry the supplies you had collected.

However, it was an incident during your return to the apothecary that truly changed your perception of him. As you passed by an injured man involved in a carriage accident, his demeanour shifted instantly. With remarkable professionalism, he attended to the wounded man, showcasing his expertise and skill. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and in that moment, you couldn't help but feel a newfound admiration for him.

For the first time, he embodied the charismatic and excellent Physician Jung who was widely praised by the townspeople. You finally understood why he had earned such acclaim for his expertise.

While you had grown confident enough to consider him a good friend, the doctor, on the other hand, was grappling with his feelings for you. After each session, he would return to the general's estate seeking advice from the mistress on the best approach to pursue you without being too forward. Despite his desire to openly court you, he wanted to ensure that your feelings were mutual before making any moves, fearing he might scare you away.

Following Lady Park's suggestion, he opted for a more gradual approach, using the opportunity to learn about herbs as a means to get to know you better, and vice versa. By taking things slowly, he hoped to foster mutual feelings between you.

As he prepared to enjoy his lunch break at his clinic, he couldn't help but smile at the thought of spending the evening with you. Tonight's session held particular significance as you would be teaching him how to harvest specific nighttime herbs for optimal quality. It promised to be a new and exciting experience, and he was just happy about the opportunity to share it with you.

"What's got you smiling like a creep?"

Just like that, the sound of an annoyingly familiar voice sliced through the doctor's pleasant mood like a knife, abruptly snapping him out of his reverie. His smile vanished as soon as he locked eyes with the dressmaker. With an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, he responded, "What do you want, Kim Hongjoong?"

Yunho held his breath momentarily, his mind racing with anxious thoughts. What if Seonghwa had betrayed him and told his friend everything about Miss Ryu? What if Hongjoong was here to tease him after finding out? Oh god, his life would be over—

But to his surprise, the older man's expression was one of genuine distress as he took a seat across from the physician, "Look, ugh... I never thought I'd say this, but I need your help. Can you lend me an ear? I'm... well, I'm in a bit of a situation."

What started as a brief lunchtime conversation stretched into half a day, with the dressmaker pouring out his heart about his latest client, the enigmatic Miss Baek, whom he clearly harboured feelings for. By the end of their exchange, though a bit flustered that Hongjoong had caught wind of his recent visits to Ryu's Apothecary and your presence there, he was simply relieved to have managed to extricate himself from the conversation in time to close up shop. But one thing was certain; any fleeting relief Yunho felt at the general's discretion evaporated instantly.

Of course, Seonghwa told him everything.

Relieved to see the dressmaker finally departing from his clinic, the physician wasted no time in packing up his belongings and closing the shop. If only Hongjoong hadn't taken up so much of his time with his endless chatter, Yunho would have already been on his way to the apothecary. He cursed the talkative man for being so long-winded; he had worked hard to gain your trust, and he didn't want to jeopardise it again due to tardiness.

"Ugh, I hope that Miss Baek continues to give him a hard time. If I end up late because of him, he's going to pay," the doctor grumbled to himself as he hurried out of his clinic and towards your store. While part of him knew you wouldn't mind him being slightly late, he didn't want you to be okay with it. He wanted to be a man of his word, to be someone you could trust.

Arriving promptly, Yunho found Mr. Ryu in the midst of closing up. The elderly man's face lit up at the sight of the taller man, "Ah, Physician Jung, right on time! She's in the back, as usual, waiting for you. Now, it'll be late by the time you two finish up. I'm trusting you to escort her home after your session, is that alright?"

Yunho straightened up and bowed respectfully, "Of course, Mr. Ryu! Don't worry, I'll ensure she gets home safely."

"Very well then, I'm leaving her in your hands," the apothecary said with a teasing wink, "You've got this."

Feeling a flush of warmth in his cheeks, Yunho waved your father goodbye, understanding the elderly man's implication. It wasn't a secret that your parents wished for you to settle down, and they had made it clear on more than one occasion that the doctor had their approval. The only remaining factor was you and your feelings.

"Oh hey, there you are," you greeted warmly from your usual spot amidst the plantation, a natural smile gracing your features as you met his gaze. It was a smile that stirred something in his heart, though he kept that to himself, "Before you come over, could you please grab me a pair of harvesting scissors and the herb stripper?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a salute, already accustomed to your directives. By now, he was familiar with most of the tools on your rack. Over the past few sessions, he had made an effort to acquaint himself with the intricacies of your work, determined to be helpful even as he continued to learn. Besides, he wanted you to know that you could rely on him, and that he could shoulder some of your burdens. He wanted you to see him the way he saw you.

"Thank you," you murmured, taking the tools from him and feeling him settle beside you. Your hands immediately got to work, launching into an automatic lecture tone as your focus zeroed in on the four moon garden herbs you would be harvesting tonight: the White Coneflower, the Lavender, the Culinary Sage, and the Silver Queen.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fixed on your side profile illuminated by the moonlight and the surrounding lamps instead of the herbs. It was the first time he had seen you in this soft, dim light, and you looked truly ethereal, the atmosphere lending an intimate and romantic feel to the moment.

Oblivious to his stare, you smiled in response, "They are exquisite, aren't they? Sometimes it pains me to have to harvest them. But they serve a greater purpose than just sitting here and looking pretty."

"Well, I believe that's what adds to their beauty, wouldn't you agree? The fact that they serve a purpose beyond mere aesthetics," he remarked, subtly hinting at his admiration for your depth and substance. To him, you were more than just a pretty face, and he found that incredibly appealing.

Noticing a stray strand of hair framing your face, he instinctively reached out to tuck it behind your ear. You tensed at his touch, turning to meet his gaze, and in that moment, he realised what he had just done. Clearing his throat nervously, he stammered, "I-I was just trying to help. It looked like it was bothering you."

You nodded, trying to mask the fluttering sensation in your chest at his gesture. He was probably just being polite, you reasoned with yourself, but you couldn't deny the allure of his presence in the soft glow of the moonlight. Quickly refocusing on your task, you blinked and responded, "Oh, umm... thank you. I appreciate it."

The tension in the air was palpable as you finished the remainder of tonight's session, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words and newfound awareness. It was as if a shift had occurred, leaving you both acutely conscious of each other's presence in a way that hadn't been there before.

As you locked up the apothecary for the night, the physician turned to you with a casual invitation, "Would you like to grab something to eat before heading home?" You paused, considering the offer. Your parents were likely done with dinner by now, so joining him wouldn't be a bad idea. With a nod, you replied, "Sure, let's go."

Despite his calm demeanour, a sense of anticipation fluttered in his chest as you walked side by side, his mind buzzing with excitement, "Come on, I know a stall that sells amazing black bean noodles," he suggested, leading the way with a smile.

Moments later, you were both seated at the stall, eagerly devouring the delicious noodles. With wide eyes, you exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, you weren't lying. This really is amazing." He chuckled at your enthusiasm before reaching over to wipe a stray noodle from the corner of your lips with his thumb, "You eat like a child, you know that?" he teased gently.

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through you at his words. Despite your unladylike eating habits, he didn't seem to mind. At that moment, you found yourself imagining what it would be like to be with someone like him, and surprisingly, it didn't seem so bad at all. In fact, it felt quite nice to imagine being by his side — Jung Yunho.

Just when the physician felt confident about the progress between the two of you, just as he was considering broaching the topic of a potential courtship, an unexpected turn of events threw everything off course. An argument erupted during one of your recent sessions, escalating into a silent standoff that led to his prolonged absence.

It all began innocently enough, during one of your routine sessions. Feeling more at ease around you, he summoned the courage to ask, "I was wondering... do you know of any herbs that could heal or remove scars permanently?" Your response was a curious look, prompting him to elaborate, "I've been searching for solutions to fully eliminate Lady Park's scars for a while now, but to no avail. I've sought advice from others, but no one seems to have a solution. Given your extensive knowledge, I thought you might be aware of any foreign herbs that could help."

After pondering for a moment, you nodded slowly, "Actually, yes. There's a herb called the Gotu Kola. It's renowned for treating various conditions, particularly wounds and skin issues. There have been rare cases of it being used to heal scars." His hope surged until you added, "But... it's native to India and Indonesia, and there haven't been any imports of this herb so far."

"Oh... I see," he sighed dejectedly, his shoulders slumping.

Disheartened by his disappointment when he left your father's apothecary, you became determined to find a solution. After diligent inquiries among experts, you finally unearthed a crucial piece of information: the herb was indeed present in Joseon, though in limited quantities and not widely known.

"Really? The herb is here in Joseon? Where?" Yunho's spirits lifted upon hearing your update. However, all hope plummeted when you disclosed its location, "Apparently, an Indian traveller planted some on specific parts of the Naksan mountain some years ago. It thrives in the well-drained soil, moist position, and full sun exposure."

"The Naksan mountain...? Then it's practically inaccessible," he murmured, his earlier enthusiasm extinguished once more. You furrowed your brow, "What do you mean? Of course, it's possible. We could embark on a journey to find it ourselves. Where there's a will, there's a way."

He massaged his temples, "Do you have any idea how perilous trekking a mountain can be? We're not seasoned adventurers. We might not even survive the trek to the plant, let alone make it back in one piece. If it were so simple, don't you think someone would have already ventured there to harvest it and capitalise on it? There must be a reason it's not readily available here, don't you think?"

"Forget it, just... forget I asked," he implored.

But you persisted, adamant in your determination. You went out of your way to conduct thorough research, pinpoint the exact location of the herb and gather information on all the necessary essentials for the journey. Excitedly, you broached the topic once more, only to be met with a less-than-favourable response. Yunho sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, "Please, Miss Ryu, let's just drop it."

Frustrated by his reluctance, you erupted, "If you're a coward, just admit it. You sought a solution, and I've offered one. How can you give up so easily without even trying?"

"A coward...? Is fear the only thing you hear from me after everything I've said?" he retorted incredulously.

"Well, is it not?!" you challenged.

He scoffed, "Please, don't be stupid. You're not thinking clearly, and I don't see the point in arguing further. I've made my decision. We're not doing this, and that's final. It's just not feasible."

And since then, there had been no sight or sound of him. According to your father, he would drop by only for medication, never staying to see you. It had been a week since then, and if he thought his silent treatment would deter you, he was sorely mistaken. It only fueled your determination.

I'll prove you wrong, Jung Yunho.

Using the week to make all necessary preparations, you informed your parents that you would be venturing out to gather herbs. It was technically true, though you omitted certain details to avoid a lecture. You understood that they would worry, believing it to be dangerous, especially if you were going alone. However, you had always been independent, confident in your ability to handle things on your own.

You couldn't wait to see the look on the doctor's face as you presented him with the herb, the look on his face as you called him a coward, and even more so, the look on his face when he realised just how wrong he had been and how right you were.

As you began your journey, optimism fueled your steps. Everything unfolded smoothly, just as you had envisioned. With a trusty map in hand, you followed the right path, guided by determination. Kind passersby, fellow travellers or herb pickers like yourself, helped point you in the right direction when needed. All seemed well until the distant rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning pierced the air, causing your stomach to sink. But refusing to let it deter you, you pressed on toward your destination.

Goddamnit, not now please!

In your haste, you brushed against branches, tearing your hanbok fabric and leaving tiny cuts on your skin. At times like this, you couldn't help but think about the physician. Perhaps you missed having that gentle giant by your side. Pushing aside such thoughts, you focused on the task at hand. Despite the drizzle, you persevered and were determined to reach your goal.

Nearing the spot marked on the map, you muttered to yourself, "Come on, it should be around here somewhere." Scanning the surroundings for the distinct plant with fan-shaped green leaves and delicate flowers. But as the sky darkened and the rain intensified, it became increasingly difficult to see. Frustration bubbled up as you searched, muttering curses under your breath.

"Shit, shit, shit, where is it?"

In a moment of distraction, you failed to notice a sizable rock in your path, resulting in a twisted ankle and a painful fall. With a cry, you landed on the ground, scratching your palms as you shield your face. As you struggled to rise, the realisation of your predicament set in. Your ankle throbbed, swelling with each passing moment.

Oh god, how am I going to get out of here?

Desperate and defeated, you leaned against a rock, tears streaming down your face. Regret washed over you as you cursed your decision to go on this journey alone. Maybe Yunho had been right; perhaps you should have listened to him. Now, stranded and injured, you felt foolish and vulnerable. But as you looked around for something that could help you walk, a glimmer of hope emerged as you spotted a patch of what appeared to be Gotu Kola.

With trembling hands, you retrieved the rough sketch you had brought along, confirming your discovery with wide-eyed astonishment, "Oh my god, I finally found you," you whispered, a surge of determination rising within you once more.

Meanwhile, Yunho entered the apothecary with a heavy heart, closing his umbrella as he stepped into the shop to collect his usual batch of medicine for Lady Park. His concern deepened when he saw your father pacing anxiously, "Is everything alright, Mr. Ryu?" he inquired, furrowing his brows.

The elderly man looked up, relief flooding his features at the doctor's presence, "Oh, Physician Jung! Look, I'm not sure what's going on between you and my daughter, but please, you have to help find her!" he pleaded, his voice trembling with worry.

Yunho's heart squeezed uncomfortably at the urgency in the apothecary's voice, "Wh-what? What do you mean? Where did she go?" he asked, his own anxiety mounting.

Your father began to ramble, explaining that you had mentioned going out to pick herbs earlier in the day but hadn't specified a location, "She's been gone for more than half a day now, and it's raining heavily. I'm worried sick about her. What if something's happened?" he fretted.

The doctor's breath caught in his throat at the revelation. He could hazard a guess as to where you might have gone, but he needed confirmation, "I... I might have a clue where she went, but I need to check. Can I please see her work desk?" he requested urgently.

"Yes, of course. Anything to help you find her," Mr. Ryu agreed with a nod, desperation evident in his eyes.

Approaching your desk, Yunho wasted no time searching through your notes, where you meticulously recorded every discovery. His heart skipped a beat when he reached the final page, where a rough sketch of Naksan mountain with a red X marked a specific area, accompanied by the words 'Gotu Kola' scrawled above it.

Oh my god, I cannot believe this woman.

Shocked and alarmed, the physician knew he had to find you, and fast. The thought of anything happening to you filled him with dread. He couldn't bear the idea of something befalling you, especially since your actions were spurred by his own request. If only he hadn't broached the topic of finding a remedy for scars. If only he hadn't spoken to you so harshly. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was all his fault.

"I'll find her, Mr. Ryu. I promise, I'll make this right," he assured your father before setting out, clutching your notebook in his hands and carrying a bag of essentials the elderly man had helped pack. Braving the harsh wind and rain, he made his way toward you.

In the meantime, you huddled under the protective canopy of a tree, knees drawn close to your chest, feeling utterly helpless. Despite succeeding in gathering as much Gotu Kola as possible, you were still stranded atop the mountain. The rain showed no signs of relenting, and your sprained ankle made descent impossible. As you sat there, feeling the cold seep into your bones, you could only pray that someone would pass by and notice you in your predicament.

As time dragged on, your hopes of being discovered began to wane. Despite the rain lightening, the darkening evening sky brought a fresh wave of anxiety, your heart pounding in your chest. No one was going to find you now. Would you even survive the night on the mountain? You shivered uncontrollably in your wet clothes, your untreated ankle throbbing with pain, and wounds scattered across your body. It seemed unlikely you would make it.

Damn, I wish that idiot was here...

Oddly, amidst the despair, your thoughts turned to the physician. If only he were here with you, perhaps the situation wouldn't feel so distressful. With hooded eyes, you stared blankly ahead, silently wishing for him to miraculously appear before you.

You furrowed your brows as a figure approached, the sound of your name echoing through the rain-soaked air. The voice was unmistakable, and you snorted in disbelief. Could it really be Jung Yunho? But as he knelt before you, his hands gripping your shoulders, his concern felt all too real.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice urgent.

You blinked several times, reaching out tentatively to touch his cheek. To your astonishment, he was solid, undeniably present. Tears welled up in your eyes as you broke into sobs, throwing your arms around his neck and holding him close, "Oh my god, I can't believe you're actually here," you whispered through your tears, "I guess you aren't such a coward after all."

He sighed in relief, returning your embrace and stroking your head gently, "No, I am. I am a coward because I was so afraid, so scared of... of losing you," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. As he pulled back slightly to look at you, his expression was filled with worry, "Please don't ever scare me like that again. I told you it was dangerous. Look at you," he scolded gently.

"I can't believe you ventured all this way alone. I thought you were smarter than this, but I guess even smart people can be idiots sometimes." The doctor in him immediately began assessing all of your injuries, retrieving a bandage from his bag. With careful hands, he secured your sprained ankle to support it and prevent further swelling and bruising. Once he finished, he pulled out an extra layer of cloth from the bag your father had packed and wrapped you snugly in it, ensuring you stayed warm for the time being.

You scoffed, defiance flashing in your eyes despite the fluttering of your heart at his earlier words and his caring actions, "Say what you want, but I have no regrets because I found it..." you said, holding up the bag full of the Gotu Kola herb, "The only regret I have is not knowing it would rain. Otherwise, I would have made it just fine."

He was momentarily speechless before a small laugh escaped him as he shook his head, "As much as I love how determined you are, it frustrates me sometimes."

"You do? Love how determined I am...?" you echoed shyly, feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks, or maybe it was a fever.

He smiled warmly, gently cupping your cheek, "I do. But as much as I'd love to confess my feelings to you right now, we really need to get out of here. We'll have plenty of time to talk when we're safe. Now, come on, hop on my back." Turning around and gesturing toward his back, he offered you a way out of the predicament and perhaps, into a new beginning... with him.

Somewhere along the way, you lost consciousness on Yunho's back. Trying to maintain composure, he carefully navigated the descent from the mountain. Fortunately, upon reaching the bottom, kind townspeople offered a ride back to your home on their cart. He held you close throughout, hoping to provide warmth with his body heat, knowing the fever was taking its toll.

He found it hard to believe he had actually climbed a mountain to rescue someone. Normally, such feats were beyond his capabilities. But the mere thought of you in danger propelled him forward. If only you knew the power you had over him, driving him to extraordinary lengths.

Upon arrival, your parents swiftly attended to you, guiding the physician to your room where he diligently treated your wounds. Drifting in and out of consciousness, you found solace in the familiar surroundings of your room as your mother changed your wet clothes. Spotting Yunho beside you once more, tending to your injuries, you caught his gaze. He smiled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, whispering, "It's okay, you're safe now. Rest, sweetheart."

And you did, your heart finally at ease.

The following days passed in a blur as he visited you daily to check on your recovery. Today was no different, and upon his arrival, you recognised the familiar scent of the tonic he brought. It was the standard blend of herbs used to revitalise patients with colds. As he attempted to feed you, you protested, "I can do it myself."

Yunho clicked his tongue, moving the spoon out of your reach, "Just be good and let me take care of you," he urged gently.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you relented, allowing him to feed you. Swallowing the bitter medicine with a wince, you remarked, "You've already been taking good care of me for the past few days. Don't you have a clinic to run, Physician Jung?"

He chuckled, wiping the corner of your lips with his thumb, "Are you worried about me?"

Blushing, you looked away while he continued, "Don't worry, I have a substitute physician for whenever I'm not around. Besides, how can I focus on work there if I'm busy worrying about you?"

Turning back to him, you bit your lip nervously, "So, about that confession you were talking about..."

With a grin, the physician set down the bowl on the table beside your bed before reaching for your hand, "I've been waiting for you to ask for some time now. It's probably no surprise, but I... I have feelings for you."

As you squeezed his hand, he continued, "I'm not sure when it all started, but perhaps I might have liked you since our first meeting. Despite usually being composed, seeing you just threw me off. Truthfully, I've never given the idea of settling down a thought. All my life, I've been married to my work. Sure, I've met countless women who tried to appeal to me, but I've never been swayed."

Gently intertwining your fingers, he added, "Just when I thought I never would, you came along and changed everything. Initially, I thought it might have been your extensive medicinal knowledge that intrigued me, but now I realise it's much more than that. I've been waiting to be sure you liked me back before making my move, but then..."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he confessed, "God, you have no idea how much I regret putting you in danger. I should have spoken to you instead of avoiding you. When I found out you were gone, I felt like my life was over... I wouldn't have forgiven myself if anything were to happen to you," his voice cracked with emotion.

"I'm here now, you saved me," you reassured, gently cupping his face and turning it towards you, tears clouding your own vision.

He sighed, leaning into your touch, "You are, and I need you to know that I care deeply about you. I want to be the one to protect you, to be the one you can rely on, and to be there for you. Most of all, I want... to be loved by you. Will you let me be the one?"

"If not you, then who else?" you teased.

The atmosphere instantly lifted, and your smile illuminated his mood. "You'll be my only one, Yunho," you whispered, closing your eyes as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. Pulling back slightly, he murmured against your lips, "And you'll be mine."

Your father jumped with excitement outside your room, while your mother's joyous tears flowed as she eavesdropped. Finally, their hopes and dreams were becoming reality. They had worried you wouldn't give Yunho a chance after declaring your disinterest in marriage. They were relieved to see you letting him in. With a smack on your father's arm, your mother scolded him, "Alright, now that's settled, get back to work." Despite the playful reprimand, your father left happily, a smile adorning his face.

As weeks passed and your routine continued, with sessions held every few days, the significant change was evident – the physician was now more than just a friend. Stepping into the apothecary, he greeted, "I'm here, Mr. Ryu!" The elderly man grinned, waving back, "You might as well call me father already, Yunho-yah," he joked.

He blushed, bowing before hurrying to the back to tell you what your father had said, "Sweetheart, you won't believe what your father just said to me..." he began, trailing off as he realised you weren't there.

"Sweetheart...? Where are you—"

His words were interrupted by a mischievous "Boo!" from behind, startling him. In his surprise, he yelped and stumbled over his own feet, falling backwards. You reached out to help, but he grabbed your arm, causing both of you to tumble down together. As you landed on him, laughter erupted, reminiscent of the first time it happened.

"You cheeky thing," he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. When you pulled back sooner than expected, he let out a small whine, "Wait, what did my father say to you?"

"I'll tell you if you kiss me again, pretty please," he teased, a smirk spreading across your face, "Only because you asked so nicely," you replied with a chuckle.

Just as you leaned in to kiss him again, your father's voice interrupted from the entrance, "Hey sunshine, is the latest batch of ginseng ready yet— oh. Gosh, don't mind me, kids!"

As the elderly man hastily left, you buried your face in the doctor's chest, feeling embarrassed by the interruption. It seemed this was something you'd both have to get used to - the occasional interruption in your private moments. Yet, when you looked up and saw Yunho grinning, you realised he didn't mind. Like you, he was simply happy to be part of your little family.

You once thought it impossible to find someone like your father—someone patient enough to love you despite your unladylike habits, borderline stubborn nature, and no-nonsense attitude, someone who could accept you and all your flaws wholeheartedly—only to realise he had been here all along.

You were right, mother; he's the one.

You won't believe how many times I went over this. I'm not entirely happy with it even though I've managed to put in everything I had in mind. Maybe I'm overthinking it, but I sincerely hope this was decent!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/9):

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

@lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim |

@scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa |

@ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 |

@naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

#edenesth #the way to his heart #little touch of heaven #twthh spinoff #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #jung yunho #jeong yunho #ateez yunho #historical au #joseon era #yunho x reader #yunho x you #ateez fic

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meazalykov · 2 months

Text

invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!lyon!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter since I have to split this up into three parts, changing things that happened irl just a tiny bit for the plot of this, google translated language.

the pathway of your career was never simple, or original.

growing up in the states, you participated in many youth programs. sacrificing a chance at a normal childhood, you took the chance to fulfill your 5-year-old self's dream.

before you know it, you’d grow up to be the best teenager in the country– in terms of soccer.

just before going into high-school, you were called up for the usynt for the first time. your parents wanted to see you happy, so you were sent into homeschooling.

it wasn’t easy leaving public-school. you barely had time for your non-soccer playing friends and eventually– you seemed to forget about them. your friends and teammates on your club and national teams were your new priority.

breaking records on the national level, it seemed like the youth team was too easy for you.

and then 2018 came along, when you were 16 years ol–

well, not yet. just a day before your 16th birthday, in January 2018, you were having your debut on the uswnt.

against denmark, you were thrown into the game in the 50th minute, not long after halftime. being an attacking midfielder, you were expected to contribute to any attack or opportunity given for you.

playing with the current world champions intimidated you. your new mentor, christen press, noticed this when your leg and foot tapped against the grass as the both of you waited to get subbed in.

“hey! you gotta relax.” christen whispers over the crowd, her tone stricter than usual which causes your leg to stop tapping.

a goal came from mallory pugh that same second, so you were distracted for a few seconds celebrating.

luckily, this gave you enough time to take deep breaths.. something your sports therapist recommended for situations like this.

“i will, sorry.” you quickly spoke after, moving your tongue to press on the inside of your cheek. you didn’t notice how nervous you could’ve looked from the outside.

“you don’t need to apologize, you’ll do great i promise!” she patted your upper back a few times before the ref blew the whistle for the subs.

after the whistle blew in the 93rd minute, you breathed a huge sigh of relief. most of your older teammates ran to your side to congratulate your contributions to the 5-1 win.

1 goal and one assist on your senior team debut didn’t happen to players everyday, especially to newly 16 year olds.

a year later, after 16 more caps, happy tears ran out of your eyes when your coach, jill, called you.

this wasn’t too long after you made your professional club debut for sky blue fc, or what is now referred to as gotham fc. jill let you know that you were going to the world cup!

now being 17 years old, you were the youngest person on the uswnt roster to play in the women's world cup ever.

being referred to as “baby blue” by the rest of the team, due to your age and the club you play for, they all made an effort to make sure that you had the best experience for your first world cup.

you attached yourself to christen, megan, alex and tobin when it came down to needing mentors to guide you in france– and your closest friends mallory, tierna, and rose.

in the football world, you’re treated like an adult. something you struggled with.

your parents, siblings, and other relatives came to france to support you on your journey– but due to the everyday training (twice a day), media days, strict meal plans, and mental stress before the tournament– you couldn’t see them at all.

thankfully, they were able to see you along with the rest of the world during the group stages.

against thailand, you scored a goal with three assists after you were substituted in the 60th minute. the 13-0 win gave you a rush that would last throughout the entire tournament.

you didn’t play against chile, or sweden. sitting on the bench and observing your team was enough for you though– they’ll call you whenever they need you.

one moment throughout the tournament, there was a four day break between the group stages and the round of 16.

adidas, the brand you chose to sign for, wanted to do a photoshoot with many internationals who signed their brand. the world cup is the only chance they’ll be able to do this collaboration– and with fifa's approval– over 20 players from different countries are there in a big conference room, ready to get their picture taken.

standing in the red uswnt kit, you felt intimidated– unaware that you could’ve been the most intimidating.

unfortunately for you, lindsey and you were the only americans at this photoshoot. you attached yourself to the blonde before she was pulled away by staff. this left you alone sitting on a random chair– at a random table.

(i know giulia gwinn is signed for nike, but pretend she is signed to adidas for the plot)

“um– hey?” a girl your age– or maybe a bit older– with blonde hair stands in front of you with a confused, yet amused, expression.

your eyebrows knit together as you respond back with a smile, “hi!”

before the blonde could say anything, you turn your head to see a table card in the middle of the circle table. its labeled under germany so your eyes widened before you quickly stood up from your chair.

“oh my goodness i’m sorry– i just found a random seat to sit in because i’m bored.” you talk a bit more than necessary, afraid that you did something disrespectful.

“its totally okay– i’ve been wandering around myself– i’m giulia!” she reaches her hand out, her german accent strong.

you reach your hand out to meet hers, “i’m y/n. i’m with the us team.”

giulia smiles, “i know– its hard to not notice the current world champs in the room.”

you smile, your social anxiety fades as you engage in a conversation with the german footballer.

“so when are you getting your pictures done?” giulia asks, wanting to continue the conversation with you.

“oh i had my individuals and duo pictures with horan done earlier– i’m just waiting for the big group photo we have to take in–” you check your apple watch, “20 minutes.”

“oh same!” giulia says, looking down at your apple watch too, seeing that it's 11:40am.

“congratulations on getting on top of group B, i watched a little bit of the game during my lunch break yesterday!” you compliment as you cross your arms naturally.

“thank you! it wasn’t easy.” giulia smiles.

“i feel you.” you relate.

before you could talk to giulia more, another girl jogs up towards the two of you.

she is wearing the same german kit as giulia, so you know she is her national teammate. she's taller than you, brunette, and you figure that she has short hair, since her hair was tied up in a small bun.

the brunette looked very cute, but you brushed that thought aside. you have no idea what her name is and you need to put all of your focus on the world cup.

“Da bist du ja! Ich habe dich gesucht, aber ich sehe, du hast einen neuen Freund gefunden.“ (There you are! I've been looking for you, but I see you've found a new friend.) the brunette nudges giulia’s shoulder, looking at her before looking at you with curiousity.

“relax! this is y/n.” giulia waves her hand towards you.

“hey.” is all you say, smiling at the cute girl.

“hey.” she responds, smiling with the same cheeky smile you had.

“wer ist das? sie ist süß” (who is that? she is cute) the brunette says to giulia. you didn’t understand german, but you could tell that she was asking a question through the tone of her voice.

giulia rolls her eyes before giggling,

“this is y/n, like i told you. she plays for the united states.” giulia responds in english, which you’re grateful for. the girl looked you up and down for a few seconds before talking to giulia in german again.

over giulia’s shoulder, just 20 feet behind her, you see horan waving her hand for you to come to her. you look back at the german girls, hating to cut them off from their conversation.

“sorry girls but i have to go. it was so nice meeting you giulia!” you quickly hug giulia, and she hugs you back tightly before you walk away.

ten days later-- when jill called for you to warm up in the final against the netherlands, your legs felt like pencil lead that could’ve snapped in half.

in the 75th minute, the united states were up by 2. however, the euro champions against you had a point to prove. they weren’t going to let themselves lose the world cup without a fight.

tobin heath got injured during the semi-finals and doctors made it clear that she couldn’t play the full 90 minutes in the final, so jill made the last decision to call you up.

every commentator on broadcasts, radio stations, and television networks were wondering why jill was putting you– a seventeen year old with no world cup experience– over people like carli lloyd who's on the bench.

you couldn’t make a single mistake on the pitch. your mind repeated that sentence back to you as you warmed up with sprints and stretches on the sidelines.

five minutes go by and you’re on the pitch. focusing on the ball, you made beautiful passes to the forwards and midfielders around you.

when your eyes were on the ball, it was distracting from the neverending stadium around you.

blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 83rd minute comes along. krieger pushes the ball away from a dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards rose lavelle, the girl who scored the second goal moments before.

rose, being closed in by dutch defenders, passed the ball behind her to kelley o’hara. kelley saw you were free and there was open space between you and her, so she launched the ball towards you.

this was your chance. usually, you never tried to seek personal glory. however, something changed when that ball hit your ivory colored cleat.

your feet take the ball towards the goal. veenendaal, the dutch goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position as she sees her defenders failing to take the ball from you.

as you race closer to the goal, the crowd gets louder. the orange defenders close in but you dribble around them effortlessly, a skill uswnt fans love seeing from your younger self.

an oranje defender hit your body from the left side but it was too late. your foot was angled on the left side of the ball, making the outside of your right foot clear to launch a powerful shot at the goal.

veenendaal dived a second too late, the ball hit the lower corner of the net, going in for the third goal of the world cup final.

you didn’t take a moment to process your thoughts before you lifted yourself off of the grass and sprinted towards the corner of the pitch, the same corner megan raphinoe celebrated the first goal at an hour before.

your hands were spread out wide as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes in joy. the look of happiness that you’ve never felt until now.

“Y/N L/N THE YOUNGEST GOALSCORER IN A WORLD CUP FINAL!!” commentators screamed on television broadcasts as your teammates, both on and off of the pitch, ran to you and squeezed your adrenaline filled body.

one month later, you’re back home in new york city. the rush of winning the world cup is still fresh– along with your popularity in the community skyrocketing due to your amazing world cup campaign.

you missed france already-- a little too much. the bond you’ve had with your uswnt teammates there was indescribable.

the world cup distracted you from your unfortunate situation at gotham fc too.

you’re an amazing player and the world cup showed the world that, but your coach at gotham seemed to have an agenda against you.

at first, you didn’t think so. you arrived at gotham six months ago and started for the first few games in the NWSL season, but it seems like the coach forgot about you after.

the defensive style of the squad is something you didn’t prefer as well. your play style fit well with an attacking style of play, but your coach didn’t want that.

after being benched for the big game against san diego wave, you had enough.

your agent and yourself filled a request in to transfer clubs or go on loan.

luckily for you, many clubs all over the world wanted the best U17 player.

when lyon came knocking on your door, you were happy to accept a year long loan deal.

at first, moving across the atlantic scared you. your older sister, whos much older than you, agreed to live with you until you’re eighteen that january, but you’ll be far away.

however, lyon is the best club in the world. you would never say no simply because you were “a little uncomfortable” with the move. oh well, football comes with uncomfortable events.

the uncomfortable events paid off well, since you're a starter for the champions league final against wolfsburg.

twenty minutes in, and you nearly had an opportunity to have the first goal of the final.

the ball was at lucy bronze's feet. you were free to accept her pass and did so. before you could pass the ball up to sommer-- Alex popp knocked you from behind and you were on the grass.

you were okay, and you got up fine afterwards. in fact-- you felt like that knock helped your nerves from playing your first champion's league final at the age of 18.

minutes later, sakina had the ball which prompted you to push forward. ingrid engen from wolfsburg kept her eyes on you, since she knows how fast and precise you were with the ball.

sakina tried to pass the ball up to kumagai, but pernille harder takes the ball. luckily, you were able to side tackle the ball from her. she fell, but you were at the ball so no yellow card was needed.

the noise around you were coaches yelling and players shouting at others in many languages. french, german, swedish, dutch, you name it.

its 2020, and there was no crowd due to covid. the empty chairs made it easy for your voice to echo.

you were close to being fluent in french after living in lyon for the last year, and having sakina and selma as your closest friends, so you opted to yell out to your teammates in that language instead of english--where the whole pitch might understand you.

renard had the ball with no wolfsburg player coming at her, so she took her time deciding on who to pass the ball to.

her pass to buchanan was clean, but svenja huth takes the ball from lucy as she runs to the middle.

svenja tries to pass the ball but it goes back to the defender in navy blue, renard.

the tall defender launches the ball at you running towards the right side. cascarino and you swap places as your feet quickly get inside of the box with the ball.

your left foot shoots the ball but the ball hits off of repohl-- wolfsburg's goalkeeper's, foot. the ball bounces towards le sommer, who shot the ball into the goal at the 25th minute.

le sommer high-fived you and hugged you as you both ran back into your positions. all season at lyon, you've had the highest number of assist-- and the third highest amount of goals.

the french club hopes to buy you from gotham, if there is no issue. your contract does say that there is no buy option involved, but they hope to try.

in the 44th minute, everyone was struggling to get their feet onto the ball. you were standing directly in the middle outside of the box when the ball was bounced back to you.

your left foot, your non-dominant one, launches the ball into the goal at a lightening speed. ingrid and alex popp didn't have the chance to stop you before your teammates screamed in celebration.

"when it fell-- it fell kindly for the american international who scores the second goal for lyon." a commentator speaks to the television audience as you ran to hug majri.

before the end of halftime, as you're ready to head back out onto the pitch, you frowned in realization.

after this fun season, you'll head back to the united states with a coach who wants nothing to do with you. you tried to stay optimistic and think about everything after the final is over, but the end of the season is in 45 minutes plus extra time.

"y/n bébé, garde la tête haute, tu as déjà marqué" (y/n baby, keep your head up, you've already scored) cascarino says as she places her hands on your shoulders. you relax into her hands as your head turns to face her stressed facial expression.

"ce n'est pas ça, je ne veux juste pas te quitter après ça" (that's not it, i just don't want to leave you after this) you whisper. your head leans back onto cascarino's head as she sighs.

"garde espoir, Lyon est content de t'avoir ici. Peut-être trouveront-ils un arrangement avec ton club d'origine" (keep hope, Lyon is happy to have you here. Maybe they will find an arrangement with your original club) cascarino whispers before you both jog out to the pitch.

"maybe.." you whisper to yourself after cascarino jogs away from you.

nothing much happened after halftime started, until alex popp scores a header. you weren't too afraid, since lyon are still up by one, but it's anyones game with thirty minutes left.

subs were made in the sixty-first minute for wolfsburg, so you stand beside cascarino to talk to her. as you look ahead at ewa leaving the pitch, you spot a familiar face entering.

the girl with a determined look jog onto the pitch, and you continue to look at her as she scans around the field. your mind itches, you know you've seen this girl somewhere before.

as she turns around with her back from you, you see 5 oberdorf.

again, you have no idea on who she is. you haven't played against wolfsburg until now, so maybe you played against her national team before? you had no idea.

wolfsburg had more possession this time around. you made a few tackles and won a few duals, but the german club was hungry to score an equalizer.

lucy got the ball away from pernille and passed the ball up to you.

you ran with the ball up the field. you dribbled around ingrid and alex popp effortlessly and your next move was to pass up to le sommer who was free.

all you heard was sakina yell "derrière toi!" (behind you) before you saw someone's leg coming from under you. your first reaction was to jump as the persons leg tripped you onto the grass.

your arms stopped your head from hitting the ground, but you turned to see that it was "oberdorf" who side tackled you.

"that should've been a yellow." you groaned to yourself as you stood up and wiped the grass stains off of your navy blue shorts.

"it was all ball, so no." oberdorf said back. your head quickly turned to her as she smirked at you.

so she's german.. hm. you thought as you recongized the accent.

a few minutes later, as lucy was preparing to throw the ball in-- oberdorf marked you as she stood beside you, not giving you a chance to escape her defense.

"get off of me!" you quietly said when she tried to hold your arm.

"lena, mark her!" ingrid yelled out as you quickly moved back to where lucy might throw.

you were sweaty at this point, but not too tired. a goal before halftime was what you needed to recharge your motivation and energy.

"you aren't getting another goal passed me." oberdorf says quickly. you shake your head as you look at her. the audacity.

"who are you talking to?" you snap.

"you." she smirked.

"well, oberdorf-- if you look at the scoreboard, you guys need another goal to equal us." you say as you both push back with bouhaddi, lyon's goalkeeper, was ready to hit the ball up the pitch.

"my name is lena." she scoffs as you went to saying her last name instead of her first.

"well, lena. its nice to meet you." you look ahead to see bouhaddi's kick.

the ball goes up to cascarino who heads the ball over to kumagai. you ran closer to offer help away from popp, but lena is chasing you.

the japanese decided to kick it back to renard so you move back to your natural spot. oberdorf follows you since she is assigned to mark you.

"what do you mean its nice to meet me? you met me last year." the german comments.

your mind seems to ease at this, you know that you've met her somewhere, and its fortunate that lena knows.

after a few minutes, you couldn't respond to her since the game is heating up. lucy cleared the ball out a few times, which caused a bunch of throw ins to occur.

fridolina rolfo almost scored after kicking from outside of the box, but the ball came straight to you. your body turned quickly, so her shot deflected off of your back and away from a chance of goal.

"where did we meet?" you ask as you end up near her again, waiting to defend the ball away from a free kick for wolfsburg by their goal.

"the adidas photoshoot during the world cup." she quietly says.

your conversations were quiet, since the empty stadium could echo your voice loudly if you were loudly talking.

the free kick was cleared by renard, but being on wolfsburg side of the pitch made you concerned. if lyon kept this up, wolfsburg might equalize.

luckily, in the 87th minute, lyon had a corner kick.

the kick was taken and it landed at your foot. you shot the ball towards the left side of the goal but it deflected off of janssen's foot.

the deflected landed on the back foot of gunnarsdottir and landed in the goal for the third goal of the final.

the group hug was filled with shouts that echoed throughout the stadium. after hugging dottir, cascarino and sakina patted your back as they jumped up and down around you.

"three goal contributions! you are insane." sakina says with her strong French accent, you smile as the end of the game is nearing. wolfsburg will have to pull of a miracle to beat lyon now.

in the last minute of extra time, oberdorf had you marked again. remembering what she said earlier, you smirked as you looked at her tense body position.

"I might've not scored against you, but I did get another assist." you say.

lena looked towards you with a straight face before responding, "ha ha" sarcastically.

when the whistle blows, you run to selma bacha who was on the line ready to be subbed in. she held you tightly as you repeatedly yelled, "we did it! we did it!"

after ellie carpenter hugged you for your one goal and two assists, you saw lena pulling pernille into a quick side hug.

saying that you didn't look at lena differently than all of the other girls would've been a lie. you found her attractive, and you know she knows she's attractive. that smirk wasn't fooling anyone.

"hey, great game lena." you said as you quickly hugged her. playing all 90 minutes made you tired, but you were okay since you're a champion's league winner.

she hugged you back. not to be weird, but you liked the way she smelled.

"thank you. can I have your shirt later?" she asks. you smirk at the idea of her wanting to swap jerseys with you.

"sure, as long as I can have yours." your eyebrows knitted together as you put your hands on her shoulders. lena smiled through her sad eyes and nodded her head at you.

part two here

#lena oberdorf #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #christen press #tobin heath #giulia gwinn #wwc 2027 #bayern frauen #gotham fc #uswnt imagine #uswnt players #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso appreciation #olympique lyonnais #delphine cascarino

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diana-bookfairchild · 9 months

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Not a fan of how Elementary gave all three main women (Joan, Moriarty, Kitty) children, but definitely am a fan of how each woman got them, dealt with it, and was never villainized for it.

Moriarty has a daughter, but that doesn't mean she stops her criminal masterminding. She can't be a proper mother, but she gets her child adopted by a nice, well to do family. No one who watched that episode can deny that she loves her kid, or that her daughter at least knows her mother.

Kitty has a son by accident, with a man she doesn't want to be in a relationship with. And that's okay! She coparents with him. She loves her son. She steps back from her job, and that's also okay, because that happens. People change their lifestyle when they have kids. It wasn't in an 'all women must step back from careers, especially risky ones, when they have children' but in a 'it was time and healthy for me' way. She's clearly still the amazing badass she was in S3.

Joan's progression to motherhood is gradual and deliberate. She wants a child. And after getting him with a lot of effort, she rearranges some of her life for Arthur, but is still on the job. She has friends to care for him. She hires an ex-military nanny. She has a personal assistant. She is a single mother via adoption who has a dangerous lifestyle.

All three of their motherhoods are at least somewhat unconventional, but all of them love their kids and yet still work, which I think is pretty good rep even if I would have liked a couple of childless women in the main cast.

#cbs elementary #elementary #jamie moriarty #joan watson #kitty winter

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trulyhblue · 9 months

Text

Communication

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Dutch! Reader Blurb

Warnings: fluff, REALLY bad translated Dutch, language barrier.

Masterlist

___________________

Moving from your childhood club AFC Ajax was the hardest change of your life, but the easiest choice of your career.

You signed your first professional contract with them when you were fifteen, making your club debut in the same year. After six months of fitting into the squad, and having the opportunity to play in the Champions League as a substitute, you were asked to play for your first international camp against New Zealand, where you came away with a 2-1 win. From then, you have continued to be chosen for the National Team’s 23-player squad, continuously representing them as both a starter and a sub.

You were known for your agility, speed, and footwork, both on the ball and against both attacking and defending players. Being a midfielder, your job to maintain possession and create chances felt like a breeze to you, and your pure, sheer talent landed you with many of the most assists for the past three years.

Despite the friends you made at Ajax, you knew that opportunities to strengthen your player profile and widen your skills across the world were a dream of yours. You were a huge fan of Arsenal growing up, your parents taking you to games when they could.

When the opportunity arose to represent your country at the 2023 Women’s World Cup, you don't remember doing anything but crying for the days following your selection. You played your heart out that whole tournament. And while you didn't make it to the Semis, you walked away with a once-in-a-lifetime experience, with clubs worldwide wanting you as a part of their team.

Moving to Arsenal was a no-brainer. Not only were you a massive fan of the name itself, but they were among the best players in the world. You knew Victoria and Viv from the Oranje Leeuwinnens, and you had been told that you’d move in with Vic for the first couple of months upon your arrival, so the weight of the move felt lighter than many anticipated. You were roommates with Vic during Camps. But, in contrast to your Netherlands teammates, you didn't know an inch of English.

Well, other than the obvious words like Hello, Good Morning, and Goodbye, you were hopeless.

So, when you arrived on your first day of training alongside Victoria, you couldn't help but cringe at what was about to unfold.

“Ze weten dat je geen Engels spreekt, y/n.” They know you don't speak English. She spoke, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders, squeezing you into her chest. “Ze zijn allemaal erg aardig.” They are all very nice.

You didn't reply, choosing to keep your arm around Victoria’s waist, your eyes filtering over each of the girls.

“Ah, hier is ze!” Ah, here she is. Viv said, walking out from beside Beth Mead, jogging towards you, eloping you into a crushing hug.

“Ik heb je gemist, y/n, hoe gaat het met je?” I’ve missed you, y/n. How have you been? She asked, holding onto your shoulders as she kissed the top of your head. The London chill meant that you were wearing a black long-sleeve under your shirt, its hem being detained in your hands. The chill of the air nipped your cheeks. The Netherlands were cold, but so was London.

“Hetzelfde. Ik ben goed.” Same. I'm good. You let out meekly, noticing a bouncy Beth Mead waddle over to the three of you, holding her hand out for you to shake. You had played against Beth before, and of course, you knew her from Viv, so you made sure to look her in the eye when you shook her hand.

“Hi!” She sounded cheerfully, keeping a ball at her feet. “I’m Beth!”

“Y/n.” You replied, trying to reciprocate her delight with a small smile. “I'm Y/n.”

Your eyes widened slightly when a ball came flying at the four of you, causing you all to yelp out and duck before it hit anyone. Everyone looked in the direction the ball had come from, a strong, Irish and Australian accent on cue to yell out.

“Sorry!” The duo cringed, running over to retrieve the ball with a grimace.

“Katie kicked it.” The Australian one said, but you didn't understand. You saw the pained expression on her face, and how the Irish woman, who you knew as Katie, glared at her in shock.

“It was a joint effort, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, fuck off, no it wasn't—”

“Ze vechten.” They’re fighting. Victoria muttered to you, making you laugh.

“Ik dacht.” I figured.

The two girls were silenced after another woman came marching up to the growing group, looking at you with a stern expression before softening the crease between her eyebrows. You knew she was Kim Little by her motherly stare.

Next to her was Jennifer Beattie, an Arsenal Defender. She had her arms crossed around her chest, shaking her head in false disapproval before strolling over to you, calling out to Jonas, whom you had met when you discussed your contract.

You felt like crawling into a hole and dying, the whole occasion of being introduced to everyone made your skin crawl. Of course, no one necessarily made you feel out of place, but you refused to let Victoria’s arm go throughout the whole ordeal. You knew most of the players due to their prominence in women’s football. Most of these women set the scene for how the sport is seen today, and the mere thought of them knowing who you were was surreal.

The two girls that were arguing before, Caitlin Foord and Katie McCabe were the first to come up to you. Victoria told you they were sorry, and you shook your head and brushed the apology off, not really knowing how to say the right words in English.

Steph Catley and Leah Williamson came up to you next, saying very few yet simple words before hugging you and wishing you luck. Alessia Russo was next, and you couldn't help but giggle as her cheeks went red as she started to speak.

“Erm— sorry, hold on.” The striker looked at Pelova, who prodded her on with her hands. Russo looked back at you, trying hard to remember what she wanted to say.

“Leuk… Leuk je te ontmoeten. Erm- sorry. Ik hoop… Ik hoop dat je geniet… van… Londen.” It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy London. You knew from her strained expression that she was well aware of how much she butchered the language with her English accent, but you pursed your lips together and smiled gratefully. The thought was genuine.

“Thank you.” You muttered, your slim vocabulary in English coming in handy. “It’s… nice to meet you, too.”

Alessia looked to be most accomplished with herself, asking Victoria a question before she was cut off by Jonas’ booming voice.

You waited, trying your hardest to latch onto an idea of what he was saying, but gave up when you felt someone behind you pulling you away from Vic’s side, leading towards the other end of the pitch.

When you faced the girl in front of you, she must've realised that she had startled you, since her eyes widened at your expression.

She was short, but your height, with a scrunchie in her hair and a training jumper over her Jersey. You couldn't count the hundreds of freckles that patterned her face, her doe-like Brown eyes looking at you with a mix of shock and awe.

“Hello, my name’s Kyra. Steph told me your name is Y/n… Jonas said that we are partners, so you can start if you want.”

You didn't say anything. You wish you could, but the words that left her lips were foreign. You felt a flush run across your face, humiliation at your lack of words hitching your breath. You must've looked so stupid since the girl waited for you to reply. Everyone was set off into pairs, a ball adorned between each of them.

The girl in front of you had the ball, picking it up and fidgeting with it in her hands. You stared at each other in silence, neither of you particularly knowing what to do. It wasn't until the girl put the ball to her feet, kicking it towards you, that you communicated in some way.

Instead of talking, the girl showed you the drills, pretending to be Jonas by overexaggerating her actions by marching around, waving her hands vigorously, and using the ball to make you laugh at her ridiculous impression of your Manager.

Her number was thirty-two, yours was thirty-three, and somehow it made you feel more of a connection with her. She was very patient if you didn't understand what you were doing the first time around, and you began to wonder if number thirty-two was trying hard not to talk just for the fun of it.

She never made you feel as if you were annoying her with the lack of audible contact, in fact, she looked to find it a fun game between the pair of you.

No one chose to interrupt or try and sever the consecutive numbers, finding Kyra’s unusual silence amicable in contrast to her typical outgoing self. Both Viv and Vic were eyeing you from where they stood with their respective partners, hesitant about the choice of Kyra as your partner, as you two were very different personalities. But after a while, the two Dutch women stopped looking to see if you were okay, hearing your faint giggles from the view of a giddy Kyra enough to reassure them.

Because of this, training went by quickly for everyone. Today was a pretty easy session, similar to the ones you knew from back home. You knew you were wrapping up when Kyra started juggling the ball, singing a loud tune before passing it over to you.

You moved your feet up and down as you juggled the ball from one foot to the other. Kyra giggled when she missed the ball you passed to her, tripping over her own feet and rolling around on the floor, clutching her stomach in laughter. You did this for a while, before Kyra dragged you across the field and to the stack of drink bottles.

You didn't really know where you were going, so you let Kyra take your hand and lead the way, walking behind her as you passed the bike rack and towards the indoor fields.

You didn't begin to doubt Kyra until you had pretty much walked the length of the training centre, where you had long discarded the fields you were once training on.

“Kyra.” You ushered, making the Australian stop in her tracks at the sound of your voice. She pivoted on her heel, staring at you absolutely gobsmacked.

You looked around, trying to find the words to get across what you wanted to say.

“Say it in Dutch,” Kyra answered, catching a glimpse of your reticence.

You thought to yourself for a second before nodding. “Waar gaan we heen?”

Kyra’s eyes widened, obviously not comprehending a word you said. She looked around, trying to find a solution.

She grabbed your hand again and led you down another corridor, pushing past a few doors, weaving through the never-ending maze of rooms before finally making your way back to the locker rooms, where Vic had taken you to drop off your possessions before training.

Kyra rushed to pick up her phone, waddling over to you, typing away vigorously and smiling up at you when a voice rang from the device.

“Ik kom uit Australië.” I'm from Australia. The voice spoke.

You laughed, taking the phone from the girl’s hands and writing down a reply.

“I know. I can tell by your funny accent.”

Kyra gasped, snatching the phone off you and furiously writing down a retort. You couldn't help but gape at her fondly, biting your lip at the sight of her concentration.

“Mijn accent is niet grappig, mijn grappen wel.” My accent is not funny, my jokes are. The phone sounded.

Before you could type out your own reply, Kyra went back to typing, but instead of letting the audio play, she squinted down at the translated sentence.

“Ik zou je… veel grappen kunnen… vertellen, weet je? Zou je ze graag… willen… horen?” I could tell you heaps of jokes, you know? Would you like to hear them?

For some reason, the Dutch that left the Australian’s lips left you gushing, nodding your head up and down as you grabbed her phone.

When you translated the sentence you had written down, looking down at the words in utter confusion, you sighed. Kyra was definitely no expert in your language, but you were just downright pathetic in hers.

She must've noticed your dismay since she looked over your shoulder, pointing at the first word. “Yes… but do you… have time... to tell… them all?”

She waited for you to sound out each word, humming and nodding in recognition when you repeated the sounds.

She smiled at you, taking her phone. You waited for the audio to play back to you. Kyra’s smirk only grew when she handed her phone back to you, the Contact App up on her phone — your name typed in and phone number blank.

You laughed, and she did too.

You could get use to this communication.

(just pretend it's you)

arsenalwfc : Cooney-Cross showing Y/L/N the ropes before our big clash on Sunday!

Comments:

kyracooneyx — best partner‼️ Laten we gaan gunners (let's go)

^ yourusername — 💗💗

^ user2 — THE DUTCH 😭😭😭

^ user3 — sleeping on the highway tonight, they're so cute 💔

User7 — the eyes chica 😍😍

katie_mccabe11 — quietest training session yet LOVE YOU Y/N

^ kyracooneyx — um rude 😡

vivannemiedema — Where did you two go after training?!

^ kyracooneyx — um, home? 🥰

^ victoriapelova — HAHAHAHA

kimlittle10 — welcome Y/N ❤️

^ yourusername — 💗

User1 — the duo we never knew we needed 🙌🏼🙌🏼

*liked by kyracooneyx

bethmead_ — happy to have you here Y/n!!!!

^ yourusername — Thank you ❤️

^ kyracooneyx — what about me?

^ caitlinfoord — what about you? 🤣

^ user4 — HAVSJDVSJSHSJS I'm dying

User5 — Y/n doesn't speak English, how did they even talk? Lol

^ user6 — Viv and Vic are there. I'm sure she was fine.

User7 — she's not even that good, at this point they're just getting anyone.

^ kyracooneyx — womp womp

* liked by yourusername

_____________

Number Thirty-Three 💗

You : what does ‘womp womp’ mean?

Ky : Niets, net als het. Xx Nothing, just like it. Xx

__________

#kyra cooney cross #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #katie mccabe x reader #caitlin foord #kim little #leah williamson #vivianne miedema #beth mead #woso community #woso fanfics #fluff

565 notes · View notes

house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

legally binded - 2

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. ♣ prev part | next part

Chapter 2: Lakers, Headlines… New York?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual pov, famous!reader, actress!reader, mentions of substances, intoxication, mature language, real people. (do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: part 2 of legally binded! I hear yall and I see the comments! This will be a series, got a lot of ideas for this one. But of course, I am open to hearing what you guys think and want to see! A little bonding moment for R and Jenna 😮‍💨

Word Count: 6.3k+ (lol sorry, may have gone overboard!)

“So… what does this mean, exactly?” Jenna asks for both of you.

“We’re gonna make the two of you the talk of the town. And hopefully get people to back off on the allegations that Jenna is difficult to work with and that Y/N is entering her Justin Bieber phase — and not the good one.” Your PR agent, Liv, purses her lips.

Jenna can’t help the snort that leaves her lips, awkwardly coughing to hide it. But you catch it anyway, throwing her a glare.

“Difficult to work with huh?” You speak up — in faux interest. “Not hard to see why.”

This time Jenna is the one glaring at you. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me either.” You huff.

“Enough!” Jake yells. Anger steadily rose in the man’s bloodstream.

You and Jenna flinch at his loudness. Sliding down the chair, you feel ashamed again; ignoring Jenna’s piercing glare.

Liv is sighing but opts not to add fuel to the fire. “It’s going to take a few hours to get the paperwork and contract drafted —but once it’s done we’ll have it sent over to you. For now, get to know each other, I don’t know.”

You shoot Liv a scowl. She was making this already awkward situation so much worse.

She catches your look, sighing, “Just–pretend this is another job and you’re new castmates. Anything please. ” She rolls her eyes, already fed up with what disaster this morning has been.

“You can do that, right?” Liv crosses her arms, staring at you two in question.

“Yes.” Jenna mumbles.

“Mhmm.” You hum lazily, changing the subject. “Can we tell people? That this isn’t real?”

Liv glances at Jake and Sarah sharing a silent conversation. They nod at each other. “If they sign an NDA. Only family, your team and us. This cannot leave the room.”

You feel pale. You couldn’t even tell the people around you about this fake relationship without binding them to a contract? Suddenly, the situation starts to feel more real; the carpet of delusion being pulled from under you.

You’re standing up, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape that rings terribly against your ears. “I need some air.”

“You’re really leaving in the middle of a meeting?” Jenna questions with a snip, crossing her arms.

“Sorry your highness, I got better places to be. Liv you can send the contract to my assistant. Ortega, wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you… but well.” You trail off, shrugging.

Liv and Jake are fuming red in the face at your words, but you were still hungover and the comedown was begging to wreak havoc – your irritation getting harder to restrain.

Jenna’s face scrunches, offended. You walk away, not bothering to listen for a response.

“There’s no way I can work with her…” You catch it anyway.

●●●

“I mean can you believe what they’re asking me to do!” You pace up and down your living room.

“Oh come on, I don’t buy the allegations that she’s difficult, you know they love to tear women down when they get their come up.” Link reasons tapping on his phone.

“I mean how can this face be rude?” He holds up a picture of Jenna at the SAG awards and you furrow your brows because you don’t remember seeing her there — you might have been late.

You were just nominated anyway. So you pulled a Beyoncé and only showed up for your category.

“Maybe Jenna’s not so bad?”

“Quit it.”

It was now mid-afternoon and the battering Californian sun was shining bright above clear skies and through your floor-to-ceiling windows. You bought this house in the Palisades for the peace it provided you. Not too far from central L.A. but still tucked away enough for a moment of solitude with a life like yours.

It was your own version of a sanctuary – like a home should be.

“Okay, that sounds crazy, I agree. But dude, you fucked up. Big time.” Your long-time friend Link said.

You and Link grew up together and when you got your come up, best believe you took your best friend with you. You offered to help him out while he lives with you as you achieve your dreams but ever the stubborn guy, he refused. Only agreeing to move to Los Angeles with you if he works as your assistant to earn his keep.

He’s a good guy like that.

Since then, he’s been by your side. Through every disappointment, bad news, great news, red carpets, and movie premieres. You couldn’t do this job without him.

He’s like your brother.

“I know!” You groan, dropping to the couch. Why the hell did you let your designer choose these couches? They were stiffer than a plank of wood.

“Look at this article online, 2-time Grammy winner and Academy Award Nominee, Y/N L/N’s fall from grace? Sin City indeed! The actress blacks out at a Vegas strip club! Click here to see exclusive mugshots.”

“They’re selling my fucking mugshots?” You lift your head above the headrest horrified, watching Link sit across the room on a bar stool reading his phone.

“I’m pretty sure they’re public domain.” He refutes.

Falling back, you groan louder – hiding your face behind your palms.

“I don’t see how you have a choice, buddy.” He sighs, placing his phone on the bar top.

“There has to be another way. Why can’t I just run away? I’ll fly back home for a couple of weeks, and let all of this shit die down. It’s worked before.”

“Yeah, I told Jake and Liv you’d say that.” He rolls his eyes, walking to you. “I don’t think you can run from this one, Y/N.”

The softness in his voice has you sighing in defeat. He’s right, you know he’s right. This wasn’t just some tiny mistake you can brush under the carpet like all the other ones. This was serious.

You got arrested. For blacking out with someone who had drugs on them. In a strip club, no less.

What a mess.

Something like this could seriously hurt your career. You could lose roles, relationships, connections, brand deals – the blood, sweat, and tears you poured in; everything you worked so hard for – gone.

“I know… Doesn’t make me wanna do it more though,” You mumble, distantly staring at the high ceiling.

He chuckles, “I know bud. But this is what we signed up for, right?”

You frown. It’s what we signed up for.

It’s a mantra that you have adopted in all your years as a working performer. It certainly wasn’t the most comforting and loving thing to say, but it works because it’s true and there’s no greater motivator than a slap in the face to reality.

You much preferred tough love anyway.

“Right.” You mutter.

“Come on, I think Jenna’s manager just sent me the signed contract, they’re just waiting for your signature.” He walks off to his office.

You close your eyes, letting the sun warm you up through the glass panes. A few moments pass until Link comes back out with a tablet and pen. “Sign here, under Jenna’s signature.”

She has pretty handwriting – you note as you sign the electronic document.

Call it weird but you had a thing for people with neat handwriting, steady hands and all that.

But then you remember who the professional signature belonged to and forced yourself to snap out of it.

“Did you even read it?” He arches a brow.

“That’s what lawyers are for.”

He scoffs, “Okay, superstar. It basically says what you and Jenna need to do. Public spottings at first, then dates, appearances at each other's events. Maybe posts on social media, but the idea is to be discreet – we can’t have it seem like we’re using this to scrub away the Vegas incident.”

“But that’s exactly what we’re doing,” You sigh.

“Yeah, but they don’t know that. And it’s your damn job to make sure they don’t ever find out either.”

You rub your forehead; a headache beginning to form. Not sure if it was from the hangover or from all this PR mess.

“Anways,” He takes the tablet out of your hands. “I’ll send these over to Liv. Now as for you. Go upstairs, take a shower because you smell horrendous and then put on what your stylist picked out.”

Wrinkling your nose, you ask, “What, why? I literally just got back, I already have to go out and show my face? The paparazzi will hound me.”

“We have to beat the Vegas headline with a bigger story, so you need to be seen with Jenna ASAP. That means out for a late lunch at a well-known spot downtown. You have to act like the news doesn’t bother you – like you’re moving past it.”

“Who goes out for late lunch?”

He sends you a pointed look.

“I’ll be upstairs…” You mumble, dragging your feet as you ascend the steps.

●●●

You tap your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing up at the modest house through your sunglasses.

A mid-modern century house in Glendale. Not where you pictured her to live but whatever. Her front yard was bare but professionally trimmed. No signs of any plant life that made the space look a little… dull. The only signs of life in the house was the humble SUV that you assumed belonged to the young actress.

Your tapping grows impatient the longer you wait.

As if staring harder at the front door will make the actress come out faster. Another five agonizing minutes pass – you seriously consider pulling away to go home and sleep off this hangover but Link stood a good half-foot taller than you.

He’d lock your ass out of your own home.

Eventually, the door opens and the short brunette walks down the driveway in confident strides. Dressed in jeans, combat boots and a cardigan; those headphones around her neck, again. Somehow, she looked consistently gothic and you pondered if she really was like her character in real life.

You see her scan your Mercedes-AMG GT3 for a moment before pulling the passenger door open; sliding into the cushy seats. “Nice car.”

You blink, “Thanks… you sure took your time though,”

You couldn’t stop the slight attitude that accompanied your words.

She gives you a sharp glance, “why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“You had to unlock the gate to let me in, you knew I was waiting outside.” You huff, staring at her back.

“Then would have waited in the living room if you had knocked. What difference does it make?” She shrugs.

“That’s not the poi–” You gruff but stop, inhaling a deep breath. The pounding in your skull was begging for you to cool down.

“I think I much preferred waiting in the car… alone.” You whisper the last bit then shoot her a sarcastic glance; shifting the gear in reverse.

You don’t bother to check if she had her seatbelt on as you aggressively pull out her driveway; leaving skid marks on the pavement.

She jerks forward at the sudden movement. “Shit– a little warning next time?” She glares bracing herself on the dashboard.

“Hands off the leather,” You bite as you pull off her street and to the restaurant Link sent you the directions to.

She scoffs. “My driveway!”

●●●

“Table for 2 under Ortega? Please follow me, can I be the first one to say how delighted we are that you two decided to dine here.” The host enthused a little too much.

“It’s our pleasure.” Jenna answers politely.

You plaster a tight-lipped smile keeping quiet; sliding a modest hand on Jenna’s back when he leads you past other patrons and to a secluded table – heads already turning in your direction. Jenna jumps, sending you a menacing glare and for a moment you feel slightly scared by the fire in her eyes – dropping your hand immediately.

Okay, no touching. Got it.

“Here we are, the best seat in the house. We have complementary champagne on the table to start your evening. We’ll give you a few moments to get settled,” He sends a tight smile causing his wrinkles to show – definitely trying too hard but you’d never say no to free alcohol.

“Thank you,” You bid, pulling a chair out for Jenna.

She walks to claim the opposite chair, assuming you’re taking the one you pulled out. But she stares as you stand behind the open chair, awkwardly. Only then did she seem to realize that the seat was for her.

Raising her brows, she looked a little surprised but wordlessly and a bit awkwardly (she sends a tight-lipped smile) sits over to the chair allowing you to push it in for her, before taking your own seat across.

The first thing you grab is the bottle of champagne and the flute.

You miss Jenna’s tracking eyes as you pour a hefty glass. “Is that really the best thing for you to have, especially after last night? Also, it’s like 4 PM.”

“I didn’t know you were the alcohol police and it’s 8 PM somewhere.” You take big gulps of the champagne, savouring the way it burned but also felt cool on the way down.

“Trust me, I’m not. But my ass is on the line here too and there are people watching.” She grits out the last part, signalling with her eyes. You glance up catching two girls from another table with their phones up, no doubt taking pictures and recording you and Jenna.

Looking away, you place the glass flute down, sitting back in your seat with a slump. “Fine…”

“When are you going to take this seriously?” She whispers, tone: sharp.

“I am taking this seriously,” You fight to keep your face impassive knowing there are eyes on you both.

“No, you’re not. You couldn’t even sit through the meeting this morning and now you’re acting like a child. Might I remind you, we’re in this mess because of you.”

You clench your jaw, trying your hardest not to blow up in this fine establishment.

“I’m the reaso—“

“Are we ready to order?” The waitress cuts in.

“Yes, we are.” Jenna turns to her with that large, sweet smile that sells millions.

●●●

‘New Gal-Pals in Hollywood, Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega spotted out for lunch’

It was now the following day after your ‘lunch date’ with Jenna and you wish to say it only got better as time went on but that would be a lie. You two did not get along – at all. How was it possible for your management to find the one person on this planet that you just couldn’t get along with.

You know difficult, you can handle difficult. You’ve worked with the likes of Shia Lebeouf, Gweneth Paltrow, Michael Bay… just to name a few. You’ve had your fair share of difficult colleagues.

But this girl? She’s something else.

“Gal pals? Really?” Your nose scrunches in distaste.

“No wait, this one’s better! Wednesday star Jenna Ortega supports new bestie, Y/N L/N amid Vegas arrest.”

“Stop.” But Link’s loud laughter overpowers you.

“Oh! We got one that’s different, Trouble-maker, A-lister, Y/N L/N, will drag down rising-star Jenna Ortega!”

“Okay, that’s just bullshit.” You pique up.

“Rising star?” Jenna voices in disdain.

“Enough!” Liv’s voice echoes from your laptop speaker. “This isn’t the headline we wanted.”

You roll your eyes, scanning the candid photo of you and Jenna sitting at the restaurant.

The images look tame enough and can definitely be interpreted as just two friends out for a bite. News outlets don’t buy it, but the internet is already freaking out; spewing out unsolicited opinions on this new pairing. Some think you two are just friends, some think it’s a date, others think it’s for a movie role.

“I thought I did a good job,” Jenna speaks up on the other line of the Facetime call.

“Clearly not…” You mumble, but she catches it anyway, rolling her eyes.

“We need to up the ante, this is not good enough.” Liv sighs and you can hear the trepidation through the call.

“Like what?”

“There’s a Lakers game tonight and you two are making your first official appearance.” She grins with mischief.

“Lakers?” Jenna rouses, sounding excited.

“How would they interpret that differently than before?” Shaking your head.

“I got a plan already, darling. I have a guy in TMZ who’s going to break the first official headline that you two are in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage. Which is where you two come in… after the game headlines of your guys’ date night will be the number one trending topic.” She explains, eyes lighting up in excitement.

Liv loves to lay out her plans to whoever was willing to listen — you’re already tuning her out.

You are sure her plan is genius like she says it is.

“Are they versing someone decent, at least?” You ask tiredly. When were you going to get some time to yourself?

“Celtics.”

“I’m in.”

●●●

“Do you really have to wear sunglasses indoors? Everyone knows we’re here.” Jenna whispers from beside you.

“It’s part of the look.” You retort, sliding down the foldable chair. Why are courtside seats so uncomfortable for all the money I’m paying?

“What look.”

“We got two stars in the Lakers house tonight! Everyone, please give a warm welcome to Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega!”’ The announcer booms through the stadium speakers.

Looking up at the jumbotron, you and Jenna are plastered big and bright on the screen. You flash a dazzling smile and force your body to untense – ignoring Jenna’s quip.

You embrace the loud cheers and applauds, waving and sending the camera that dazzling smile you have mastered. Jenna copies your movements.

Eventually, the camera pans away from you two and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“God, I think my eardrums ruptured.” She complains, clutching her earring clad-ears painfully.

You laugh, “Oh come on, you don’t have people shouting for your attention at you at every turn?”

She frowns, shaking her head, “Not at this level… I like to think I still have some anonymity.”

Snorting, you say, “Yeah well, just wait. That’ll all be gone — so enjoy it while you can.”

You don’t see her frown deepen because you spot a familiar face. “Look who’s in the house!”

“Hey!” You stand briskly. Lebron James comes barreling over in large steps; greeting you with a hug and a pat on the back.

“Feeling ready for tonight?” You ask, smiling up at the athlete. Being a big name in Hollywood definitely came with nice perks like knowing world-renowned athletes.

As much as you complain about your life – this is certainly a perk you can’t deny.

“You know it! We’re gonna mop the floors with your lil Celtics team.” He smirks making you laugh.

“Okay, save the trash-talking for the court... This is Jenna by the way.” You move to the side to reveal Jenna sitting; watching the two of you with a flabbergasted look on her face.

“Nice to meet you, Jenna. My kids loved Wednesday, I think my daughter might dress up as you this Halloween.” He jokes; shaking her hand.

It was quite an amusing sight to see Jenna crane her neck to meet the basketball player’s eyes. And you really tried your hardest not to snort when her tiny hands slide into his gigantic palms – her upper arm practically disappearing in his grasp.

They continue talking for a few more moments before the basketball player eventually bids his goodbye to continue warming up.

“You’re friends with Lebron James?” She asked in disbelief when you sit back down.

“Yeah, is that surprising?” You arch a brow.

“Yes?” She asks like you were stupid for even asking.

You chuckle. “Well, now you know.”

“Also… a Celtics fan, really? That’s just disgraceful.” She shakes her head.

You scrunch your face in faux annoyance, puffing your chest proudly, “Hell yeah the Celtics! We’re gonna wipe the court with your little Lakers in their own house.”

“Don’t let people hear you say that, you’ll be stoned,” She laughs heartily.

For a brief moment, you watch as she shakes in laughter at her own joke – unable to fight the infectiousness of her laugh. Her bangs shake with her movements as she attempts to hide her smile behind her hand.

Were you guys getting along? Nah, impossible.

“I’ll just use you as a shield.”

“I’m like five-foot, I don’t think I’ll be much help.” She snorts.

“Pocket-sized shield – makes travelling easier.” You shrug, smirking.

She shoots you a side-eye but you see the smirk she tries to hide from you.

Eventually, the national anthem is sung and tip-off begins. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying yourself right now. After the weekend disaster in Vegas, all you wanted to do was sleep away your fuck-ups. But this… isn’t so bad.

Jenna seems to have loosened up and allowed herself to enjoy the game.

You cheer enthusiastically when the Celtics go on a 12-0 run in the fourth quarter.

The score is 94 - 90, with the Lakers in the lead. You were standing now, your concession drinks and snacks forgotten under your chair. The energy in the stadium is infectious as everyone cheers for their respective teams.

“This is what I’m talking about, now we got a game!” You clap loudly, yelling.

“$100 Lakers win this one.” The sweet voice shouts over the crowd.

You turn, grinning. “That’s it? $1000, Celtics win.”

The quiet contemplation is burning bright in her eyes, but eventually, she gives in extending her hand. “You’re on.”

Somehow, your grin stretches wider when she slides her hand in yours to seal the deal. “I can’t wait to be a $1000 richer.”

“In your dreams,” she clicks her tongue, focusing on the court.

“Come on ref, that was a foul!” She shouts at the checkered-shirt man as he runs past you.

She’s not looking at you but you find yourself unable to look away from her.

Granted, you barely knew anything about Jenna before meeting her yesterday. But you think you like this laid-back version of her more than the one you met at first.

A whistle-blowing breaks your staring before it becomes too obvious.

Eventually, the game goes into overtime with the score being 104 - 104 when the Lakers gets both free throws in. You’re practically shaking in excitement as you watch from courtside.

You are bent over, hands on your knees like a soccer mom watching their kid get a penalty kick. You miss Jenna snapping a photo of the court with you bent over in the corner of the picture.

“Come on, Tatum!” You shout, a vein on your forehead protruding.

“Did you say a $1000 richer?” She mocks, using your words against you.

“Don’t go on a victory lap yet,” You stand as the last time-out is called, “The score’s even and there’s still 5 seconds on the clock. It’s anybody's game right now.”

When the whistle blows signalling time-out is over, you are tense again. Jenna seems to share your sentiments as she absentmindedly grabs your jacket when the Celtics shooting guard walks behind the line to inbound the ball.

Anticipation getting the best of her.

You ignore the touch – unsure if you wanted to pull away or never move your arm again.

“Shit!” You yell when someone on the Lakers intercepts the Celtics attempt to inbound — sloppily passing it to another player in gold and purple.

3 seconds remaining on the clock and a fast-break on the Lakers side ensues; green jerseys struggling to keep up.

“Schroder tips the Celtics inbound and manages to pass it off to Thompson, to James! James with a hail mary from half-court with 2 seconds, will he make it!” The announcer exclaims.

It was like the movies when everything goes silent and somehow you see everything in slow motion. You watch as the ball spins high above in the air with the powerful throw from the Laker’s power forward. The only thing you feel is Jenna’s fist gripping your arm, bunching the jacket in her hands.

You unconsciously lean into her; the intensity of the room bouncing off you.

The ball continues to spin until it amazingly flies through the basket with a satisfying swoosh and the buzzer rings loudly.

The crowd explodes – bursting into loud cheers.

“Holy shit!” Jenna jumps, cheering.

“No fucking way.” You groan.

You feel her grab your shoulders to face her, still jumping up and down; a large smile on her face. You find yourself matching her grin despite your team not winning.

Nodding in defeat, you admit, “Okay, okay… that was a pretty great game.”

“Great?” She shakes you like a rag doll, “That was the best game I’ve ever seen!”

“Are you turning into a basketball fan, Miss Ortega?” You tease as she pulls away from you.

Still with a grin, she says, “Never… Football will always have my heart.”

“I didn’t peg you for an NFL fan but I guess I’ve heard stranger things.” You tease as she rolls her eyes.

“Soccer, Y/N.”

“Why didn’t you just call it the proper name then?”

“We are not starting this.” She holds a hand up, turning to sit back in her seat. The high of winning the bet, dwindling away.

●●●

“This is me…” Jenna says into the quiet night air.

You shifted on your feet as you stood by your car. The night had been an unexpected…. success. After the game, you two made sure to stick around to chat and take pictures with fans in the crowd.

The more eyes that saw you two together, the better.

“Um… this was nice, I guess.” You mumble, feeling a bit awkward now that it was just you and her.

She blinks up at you, surprised by your admission. “Uh – yeah, this wasn’t bad. Surprising, but not bad.”

A small smile creeps on your face, “Okay, well I guess I’ll see you later… or whenever our managers say we need to be seen together again.”

She laughs, nodding, “Yeah…”

A bright flash from your peripheral has you blinking, unfocused. “What the–”

“Paps…” She sighs. “Kiss my cheek.”

“What?” You asked bewildered.

She sends you a pointed look, turning her back from the direction of the flash so they couldn’t see her face. “Kiss my cheek, they’ll take a picture and then they’ll know we’re not just gal pals.”

Jenna is rolling her eyes but you’re still stuck in your spot. “Y/N.”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you clear your throat, “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Something indecipherable shines in her eyes, but it disappears as she blinks, “You’re not asking for my hand in marriage, Y/N. Just kiss my cheek.”

Blushing, you lean down. Shyly placing your lips on her soft-dimpled cheek – she leans into the contact, placing a hand on your neck. Immediately, a flurry of bright flashes and sounds of clicking interrupt the moment.

“Goodnight, Jenna.” You say softly once you pulled away; ignoring the goosebumps that rose on your skin.

“Goodnight.” She takes a moment to look at you before walking to unlock her gate.

You wait until she opens the metal door; not missing the kind eyes she shoots you as she shuts the gate. Only once Jenna’s out of your view did you let out a deep sigh, turning around.

“Y/N! Over here! Did you just kiss Jenna Ortega? What about the singer you were with in Vegas? Are you two over?”

You didn’t want to give the paparazzi lurking on her street more reason to stay, so you keep your head down ignoring their shouting and slip into your car.

●●●

“How was it?” Her sister’s voice can be heard on her phone.

“Awful – she’s a menace, Mia.” Jenna replies as she opens her fridge, looking for a mid-afternoon snack.

It was now Sunday afternoon and as predicted – you and Jenna are the top headline of every major news outlet in America.

“Did you tell her that you loved her in Little Women?”

“What? No, of course not! I’m not gonna tell her that.”

“Why not? You watched that movie like five times when it came out.” Her sister reminds.

“Shut up, Mia.”

“Okay, anyways…” She trails off, laughing. “I saw the pictures. You’re smiling pretty wide with her. Also the kiss on the cheek when she was dropping you off? Chef’s kiss. Just perfect.”

Jenna rolls her eyes, “It’s all part of the act. Of course, I look happy.”

“There’s videos of you jumping on her. I can barely scroll through my Twitter feed without seeing an edit of you two at the game.”

“Stop. I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” Jenna snaps.

“Okay, okay…” Mia laughs and Jenna can picture her raising her hands in surrender. “Let’s talk about New York, are you excited?’

Jenna lets out a repressed sigh. With all of this PR mess with you, she hasn’t had time to think about how busy her schedule is about to be. The Scream VI premiere and SNL is inching closer and the Coachella native is feeling the familiar phantoms of anxiety rumbling in her chest.

“Yeah, of course, I am. It’s SNL…”

“But?” Aliyah, her younger sister’s voice comes out of nowhere.

“But it’s SNL!” Jenna exclaims, “It’s a big deal! What if… what if I fuck up? Or I break character?”

“Okay… let’s take a deep breath,” Mia speaks up. She recognizes her sister’s looming anxiety and knew she had to act before the young actress sends herself into a panic. “You will kill it, like you always do and you won’t mess up. It’s okay to be a little nervous.

“Right, right.” Jenna agrees but the weighted pressure in her chest was still to creeping in.

Mia hums over the line unconvinced, “Listen, the whole family is flying in before your premiere. So don’t worry, we’ll be there, cheering you on!”

Jenna can’t fight the smile that creeps up on her face. The thought of her family being there on one of the most important nights of her career is all she needs. They always had her back, picking her up when she felt like she couldn’t do it anymore. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that.”

●●●

“You want me to fly to New York, to what– be her personal cheerleader?” You dead-pan, watching as Link frantically throws clothes and shoes into a suitcase.

It’s been about a week since the Lakers and Celtics game and news of you and Jenna’s night out in town are still abuzz. The two of you made a couple more subtle appearances over the last couple of days and the media is eating it up shamelessly. Pictures of you and the star are plastered on the front pages; be it grabbing coffee or grocery shopping or walking your dog at the park.

Now, you couldn’t even step outside without someone hurling Jenna’s name at you.

But you couldn’t lie. It was nice to have some company while you run your errands. Only yours though — you hated when you had to do hers. Jenna always thought too hard about which cereal to get, like she’s ever home to eat it.

‘New budding romance in Hollywood? Do we have a new power couple on the rise with Y/N L/N and Jenna Ortega? These two seem to be getting to know each other well… click here to read more’

Was the first thing you read when you turned on your phone this morning.

Of course, it’s never that easy because there are still a handful of nobodies sending hateful messages about your criminal escapades – not everyone was convinced.

Some well-known people on social media – people you personally know are adding fuel to the fire; engaging in discourses of you and Jenna and if you are dragging her down just by being associated with you.

Fake-ass motherfuckers.

“Yes, I think those are the exact words Jake and Liv put in their texts, actually.” He reaches for his phone to read over the message; mocking you.

“Stop, Link…” You run a hand on your face, “Tell them I’m not going. I have better things to do, Coachella is right around the corner and I literally have a song I need to send to my producer.”

He watches as you childishly cross your arms, scowling.

If you weren’t his best friend he would’ve said goodbye to the Hollywood life – too rich for his blood. Link wasn’t sure how he still put up with your attitude after all these years. Could you have said those words any more snobbishly?

“Are you done?”

“No.”

“Well you don’t have a damn choice. Now, take a shower – Marcus will be here in an hour to drive us to LAX. And you can record in New York, no one said you had to be attached to Jenna’s hip.”

“What if I don’t want to.” You stand your ground.

“Don’t do this today, Y/N.” He sighs.

For a few moments, you hold your ground; contemplating if you should dig a hole and barricade yourself – metaphorically, of course. But never say never.

Link raises a challenging brow – daring you to try him today.

Wow, someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed…

Knowing what that look meant, you knew when to pick your battles and accepted the loss, trudging over to the master bathroom but not before slamming the door behind you.

“Don’t be slamming doors ‘round here! I don’t care if the house is under your name.” He shouts from the other side.

“Fuck off!” You yell back, yanking your shirt off as the water turns hot.

He is such a dad.

–

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too, Jenna. How was your day? Mine was great, the flight was a bit bumpy but I can handle a ‘lil turbulence. Thanks for asking.” You reply, ignoring the furrow in her brow hidden behind the silky fringe.

You wonder what conditioner she uses to get her hair looking that soft.

“Y/N…” Jenna sighs, walking past you to enter your hotel suite. Walking into the living room to place her shoulder bag on the coffee table then she turns to face you, crossing her arms still waiting for an answer. “I’m serious, why are you in New York.”

You lean against a wooden panel, crossing your arms as well. “Didn’t your team tell you?”

Her frown deepens, patience thinning the longer you beat around the bush. “Obviously not or I wouldn’t be here.”

“Okay relax…” You warn not appreciating her tone. You literally just landed an hour ago and it’s almost midnight East Coast time. The timezone switch is fucking with you and her attitude is the last thing you need.

“Don’t tell me to relax.” She snaps. The young actress hated those words, it always made her more riled up.

You scoff trying your hardest not to snap back but controlling your anger has never been your strong suit. “Why do you think I’m here? Liv told me I had to show face for your premiere and SNL episode. Be your cheerleader or some shit.”

She drops her arms, frown still etched on her soft face. What? Ignore that.

“Shit, I think Sarah might’ve mentioned it but I was just so busy with rehearsal and fittings with Enrique that I didn’t see.” Jenna sighs, rubbing her forehead.

For the first time since she barged into your room – you take a moment to scan her. Her face is bare and makeup free but you can see the dark smudges from her eyeliner earlier today just under the lashline. She was dressed in a large sweater and mismatched sweatpants; the sleeves are so long it covers half her hands and her short wavy locks tied into a messy low bun.

Her clothes practically engulfed her tiny stature. You figure this is a pretty rare sight that most people aren’t privy to and suddenly you’re unsure as to why it’s so hard to look away.

“I didn’t mean to snap… I’m sorry.” She says quietly, looking at you like she was genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine…” You shrug and pushed off the wall to sit on the couch. Everyone has their days, you thought.

“I didn’t mean to ambush you. I really thought you knew I’d be here.” You turn on the TV, not being to stand the silence in the large room.

Jenna sits down beside you, tucking her feet against her chest. When did she take off her shoes? “It’s not your fault.”

The sigh she lets out is heavy and something tells you there’s some meaning behind it too. But you didn’t feel like it was your business so you zip it and continue watching the TV drone on about a program you don’t care about.

“I saw clips of your SNL promo… I thought it was hilarious – you were great and that reporter outfit? So cool.” You change the subject. It gets her to smile as her dimples poke out, a little shy now.

“It’s so cringy.” She covers her face.

“Awh, nah… the internet loved it.” You laugh, a little amused that the actress was all flushed by a single compliment.

Call it big-headed, call it ego, call it whatever you want but you personally relished it when people fawned over you.

“Of course they did. They’re the whole reason for the meme.” She rolls her eyes after dropping her hands but she still had a toothy smile.

“I bet that dance follows you everywhere…”

“Every. Fucking. Day.” She says then raises a brow at you, “How do you know about the dance, though?’

You send her an affronted look, “I’m not a grandmother, Jenna. I know what’s hip with the kids.”

She snorts, “You’re an idiot – I just mean, I didn’t think you were on TikTok like that with a schedule like yours. Also, that app is toxic.”

“Every social media app can be toxic.” You quip, “But get off your high horse, your majesty. I literally just saw a couple of edits on Twitter of it.”

“Uh huh…” She hums, unconvinced, if the side glance she throws you was any indication. “But yeah the writers wanted to do a bit with Wednesday and this is what we came up with.”

“Well, I think it’s genius… from a business standpoint.” You offer up, nudging her shoulder then turning back to the TV.

You miss Jenna’s bothered frown. “Business standpoint?”

“Yeah,” You say off-handedly, “It’s smart, good for you.”

“Are most things a ‘business standpoint’ for you?” She asks, genuinely curious about what you could mean.

“Hmm. I guess I never thought of it like that but now that I’m saying it out loud, yeah, kinda.” You shrug, thinking about it.

Most of the interactions in Hollywood that you have had are based on transactions and is usually for your own self-interest.

“...That’s kinda sad.” She says getting you to turn.

“What does that mean?” You frown.

“I’m just saying… there’s more to this industry than business deals and brand offers.” This time Jenna offers up a thought but it sounds a bit judgemental to you, shrugging.

You’re furrowing your brows, sitting up straight. “Look, you don’t even know me. Just forget what I said.”

But the laugh she lets out grinds your gears in the most unpleasant way.

Jenna holds up her hands in surrender but it feels mocking. “Clearly…” She emphasizes. “But I’m just saying, there’s no need to get all defensive.”

“Okay, I don’t know what kind of shit you were dealing with today but don’t take it out on me. Don’t come to my room talking about things you know nothing about.” You glower.

She matches your frown, standing. “It kinda sounds like you’re the one dealing with something, actually.”

“I think you should leave.” Your glare turns sharp and cold, standing too.

“Already on my way out.” She scoffed, snatching her bag aggressively off the coffee table then turns to walk to the front door.

You follow to make sure the door hits her on the way out but she stops abruptly by the hall causing you to trip on your own feet to not tumble over her.

“I think you should go back to L.A.” She glares up at you, tightly clutching her shoulder bag.

The laugh you let out is humourless, stepping back to create space between you and the other actress. “And get my ass handed to me by Jake, Liv and Sarah? They’re like four horsemen of the apocalypse – just searching for their last member. No thanks. You got a problem with me here? You deal with it.”

She clenches her jaw, “Done. Leave it to me.” Then turns and leaves making sure to slam the door shut.

Those hotel doors weigh a fuck ton, how did she do that? And what did she mean leave it to me?

“Can I come out now?” Link peeks his head out from the adjoining room; fear present on his features.

●●●

tagging who comment so far:

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #wednesday netflix #legally binded

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tippenstoepens · 2 months

Text

Prettiest Girl in the Room

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

Wordcount: 1.2k

You couldn’t hold it against Joe. As an adult woman, you knew better by now. Kisses don’t come with strings attached and just because a person kisses you, doesn’t mean they want to spend the rest of their life with you - especially if that kiss happened while both parties were drunk.

Which Joe made pretty apparent when he didn’t call you the morning after your kiss. Or the three mornings after that. Or the three months after that. All you had heard from Joe was his reaction notifications from the cast group chat when someone would send a Twitter meme made of the show. Everyone fancied one of Jackson’s character screaming “Well, you can shove your ham up your ass!”

“Joekeery loved an image”

That’s all you got.

You went about your life the way you always did between gigs: waitressing during the week, babysitting your friends’ kids on weekends, and sending out the odd self-tape in hopes your career wasn’t over before it had even begun. It was a nice, simple life. Not every actor was fortunate enough to afford a roof over their head in New York City, no matter how many doubles they worked. You consider yourself spoiled rotten every day. What could possibly be missing?

You didn’t date. That was probably part of the problem. That’s what made Joe’s silence ache so deeply. You wondered if it would change anything if he knew that the most action you had gotten in months before the kiss was getting catcalled in the streets. A simple kiss meant the world to celibate, touch starved women like you.

Maybe you should be the one to call him… And maybe you should crawl on your knees begging him to pay you a modicum of attention with “DESPERATE” written on your forehead in red Sharpie just to put the icing on the idiot cake.

He popped into your mind way more often than he was welcome. At the grocery store when one of the songs he always played in the makeup trailer started harassing you over the intercom. In your kitchen when you removed fish bones from your salmon. In bed when you were trying to… Well, that’s no one’s business.

“Guess who has two thumbs and just got renewed for a second season,” the director bubbled in the group chat.

“Oh, I love this game,” David texted. “This show. Our show got greenlit.”

It was time to shake it off. Not just for the sake of the show, but for your own sake. It wasn’t healthy to dwell so much on the past.

On the first day back from hiatus, the producers and director had the cast sit for a table read of the first few scripts they had written. As Joe’s TV wife, you’d expect to be sitting next to him considering most of your scenes were together. Maybe you should talk to Joe and clear the air before the table read started. Yes. That’s the mature thing to do.

You arrived twenty-five minutes early - which is on-the-dot on time in the acting world. Joe wasn’t there when you arrived. Or ten minutes after you did. Or five minutes after that.The anticipation of Joe’s arrival was turning your stomach into knots. He was usually punctual. Surely, he wasn’t tardy because of you.

“Any word from Joe?” The director mumbled to his assistant.

“Haven’t heard from him,” they replied.

You began to worry. Was he skipping out on the table read because he didn’t want to see you? Had his avoidance of you gone that far? He’d have to get over it eventually. He had a contract to fulfill. Just as you began your descent into a catastrophizing spiral, the clock struck eleven and Joe jogged into the room - beads of sweat forming at his hairline. “So sorry,” he panted. “Traffic was terrible.”

“It’s okay, we wouldn’t get started without our golden boy,” David teased. “I hear he’s up for sexiest man alive this year.”

Joe blew a short raspberry in response.

“Alright, alright, let’s get right into it, shall we? From the top of episode one.” The director chirped, no doubt relieved that he didn’t have to read Joe’s lines for him. “Interior. The Henderson bedroom. John and Jane Henderson lie in bed, covered only by their silk bed sheets. They’re snuggled up together. Post-coitus is implied.”

Say sike right now. You had never done a scene like this with Joe before. Never! The Henderson’s didn’t even have a scene like this in their honeymoon episode.

Of course this would be the first scene on the first day back after your first time seeing Joe after your first kiss. It was fan service. Every girl, guy, and person wanted to see more of Joe’s skin these days. But why did you have to be dragged into it?

You turned to look Joe in the eyes as you would have at any other table reading. Normal. This is normal. Business as usual. But it didn’t feel as easy as it was before. At first, you struggled to make eye contact and when you finally did, the intensity of his gaze made you blush a bit. Only a bit. The show must go on.

“That was amazing, sweetheart,” he scooped the line off the page and met your gaze again.

God, the script writing was really going downhill this season, huh?

You sighed contently as the script dictated. “You’re tellin’ me!”

The whole cast chuckled.

The rest of the table read went on without a single hitch. After the ice was broken, things weren’t nearly as awkward as you dreaded they would be. The cast went through the entire table read five times before the lunch break. The first thing you did with your free time was approach Joe.

“You didn’t call.”

“Neither did you."

Fair, but not really because Joe was the one with a booming career and Joe was the one everyone tuned in to the show for and Joe was the one with most of the power in this dynamic and Joe was the one who initiated the kiss and infinitely many other reasons that he was to blame came to mind before you finally came to the conclusion that you didn’t call Joe because you were afraid of the possibility of rejection. What if you followed up only to find out that he wasn’t interested in you? Your low-self esteem convinced you that reaching out to a person like Joe was asking for embarrassment.

“So what now?” The rough exterior melted, revealing the vulnerable little girl inside that just wanted a boy to like her back.

“Well, that’s up to you,” he shrugged.

Not necessarily the answer you wanted. You just stared him down until he said more things.

“If it was just a drunken kiss, I understand. We’ll never speak of it again. We’ll keep things professional.”

“And if it wasn’t?” You murmured while making sure to avoid eye contact lest you be made a fool of for saying that.

“If it wasn’t… I’d like you to have dinner with me," he blushed. "Some time. If you… I dunno if you have free time- Well, of course you have free time, but I meant- If you want to have dinner,” he stammered and stuttered.

“I’d love to.”

Joe sighed in relief. “Great. Do you like Italian?” He smiled a bashful, closed lipped smile and it made the corners of his big, brown eyes crinkle.

“I love Italian.”

“I know a spot in the lower east side near Ludlow. Friday at eight? I’ll pick you up if you like.” God, his eyes.

The submissive in you wished he would stop worrying about what you like and make you do what he liked. The romantic in you found his sheepishness so charming.

“I’d like that,” you beamed.

Taglist: @thefrontofmymind, @bejeweled13swiftie

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #a quiet place day one #eric aqpdo #hoard #hoard film #jq #eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x y/n #joseph quinn fandom #joseph quinn rpf #fluff

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padfootagain · 27 days

Text

Love in Verses (IV)

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Hi, everyone!!! Chapter 4 is here! Lots of angst in these first chapters, but we need to get the plot fully plotting!

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2888

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Never Give All the Heart

Never give all the heart, for love Will hardly seem worth thinking of To passionate women if it seem Certain, and they never dream That it fades out from kiss to kiss; For everything that’s lovely is But a brief, dreamy, kind delight. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play. And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost.

W.B. Yeats

You decided to meet in a pub. Frank was staying with his brother for now, you were keeping the flat you used to share. It felt empty without him, filled with blank spaces. Clothes missing in the dresser, a shelf unused in the bathroom, empty spaces on the bookshelves. Every time you looked up while you ate, you expected to see his face and found nothing but a wooden chair instead. And it was killing you slowly, how much you missed him, how much you missed your lives tangled together, sharing space and habits and everything in between.

Frank’s brother’s place wasn’t an option to meet up, and the home he left seemed unfitting, you reckoned that it had witnessed enough farewells already. So, a neutral land it was, a pub you knew but had spent few nights at. Laughter had been shared, along with kisses and drinks, but only a few times, nothing worth crying over.

Only, when you stepped into the pub, easily spotted Frank sitting there, on a chair at a small table with one spot left empty for you opposite him, you could feel the tears rising to your eyes…

It had been two weeks, since Frank had left, and you were still in shock. Reality had started sinking in, you were beginning to understand what it truly meant to lose him. You were beginning to realise that he was truly gone. And what a terrifying thought that was…

He smiled when he saw you approaching, welcoming, like he was genuinely happy to see you. Was he though? Then why did he leave?

You had broken up your engagement, you had to announce the news to your family, had broken down on the phone with them as you did so. You had warned all the people you had invited that this was over, that you and Frank were breaking up, that there would be no wedding, after all. The humiliation was almost as painful as seeing him again. Almost as dreadful as the knowledge that you would not hesitate to take him back, you were hoping to make him change his mind still… that was how desperate you were to get your life back on track, to set it how it should be again.

You said your hellos, you smiled to each other, he seemed emotional to see you as well. You sat down and took off your jacket like you were on autopilot. Something happening outside your own mind, your own chest, your own body. You expected him to tell you about his day, to say something about sport and any of his interests, to order some drinks for you both and to ask you what you wanted to eat tonight after you got home together. Instead, he smiled, asked you if you wanted a drink, and then he looked at you in silence for a moment.

“You look well,” he said, and you congratulated yourself for the efforts you had put in earlier that evening to look somewhat presentable.

“Thanks. You too.”

It was true, he looked surprisingly well, considering he had shattered the last six years merely a couple of weeks ago.

“Thank you for meeting me tonight, it means a lot.”

“Sure, I… I’m glad you called to ask for this. I… I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

There was so much hope within this stupid, lovesick heart of yours after those words…

You gave him a weak smile, imagined him apologising and asking for forgiveness and begging you to take him back after this crazy mistake of his…

Instead, he asked you about work, you asked him about his day, you chatted for a while, dragging the moment along as if you knew already that things weren’t meant to last anyway, that he was about to break your world again, that you were wrong to hope…

… and eventually, you got to the reason behind his call, to what he wanted to get out of this conversation.

“Look, Y/N… you know you’re important to me. So important… I’m sorry about the wedding. And I’m sorry to have ended things the way I did. I reckon that I should have handled this better, ease you through it better so you wouldn’t hurt so much.”

Every word was a slide from hope to pain, a slope that got steeper and steeper, that pushed you towards the edge of a cliff, to a pit you knew you would fall into because you loved him too much not to.

“I really hope you won’t hate me. I… I know that it was sudden, I know that it might have looked like a shocking decision, and it was, even to me. I really meant to marry you when I proposed, but then, I… I just realised that we weren’t meant for each other. We weren’t meant to spend our entire lives together. And I think that’s okay, really. I still have so much love for you, it’s just… it’s just not strong enough for us to go through with this wedding. Do you understand?”

Slowly, you nodded, trying hard not to cry.

He didn’t love you enough…?

“It’s just… Sometimes, it’s a lot to be with you, to take care of you. It’s not that you’re too much to handle, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re grand, Y/N, you really are. But your career takes a lot of space, you’re moving regularly, and you just… I don’t know. I just want something else, I think. I want… I want someone else.”

He heaved a sigh, rubbing at his forehead like he was the one breaking, like he was the tired one, like it was he who suffered when you struggled not to cry, when you felt the pain of rejection and heartbreak wash over you all over again.

“I still care about you, Y/N. It doesn’t mean that all of my love for you is gone, it only means that… I… I can’t be with you romantically anymore. Do you understand? But I… Y/N, I don’t want you out of my life. I care about you too much, you are too important to me. So, would you… What would you say if I asked for us to remain friends?”

Friends… the word echoed in a mixture of horror, pain and disappointment.

Friends… you should have been about to get married, engaged, in love… and instead he wanted friendship?

It was such a blow to your pride, your self-esteem. But then you thought about it, and a glimmer of hope was alit again, foolish and sickeningly in denial.

But if you remained friends, you would keep in touch, you would keep on seeing him.

And if you remained friends, perhaps you could make him see reason, show him that you were the one he belonged with. You wouldn’t be able to do that if you didn’t talk or see each other.

Friends…

He reached for your hand across the table, sneaking his arm between his drink and yours, hand warm against your cold fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. You’re so important to me. I just… don’t think that it would work out for us if we keep on having a romantic relationship, that’s all. It doesn’t change the fact that I care about you. So much, Y/N…”

You stared at his blue eyes, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through. He was making a mistake, and that was all there was to say about it.

“Okay,” you breathed out, the word escaping without you even noticing its passing of your lips.

He raised a surprised eyebrow, and yet he had a relieved expression painted over his features.

“Really?”

“Yeah, okay. We can still be friends.”

“Oh, Y/N! You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear you say that!”

Happy…

You swallowed back the lump in your throat, forced a smile.

You would make him see reason, he was making a mistake, nothing more…

Things would get back to normal, and you would have your life back. You would have your life back…

She wanted to come over, Andrew wanted to refuse at first. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see his partner, of course he longed for her company. Except, tonight, he was busy. Busy sorting out his thoughts, busy worrying about the sadness that surrounded his colleague, busy worrying about his father, whose medication had been slightly changed, busy trying to write and coming with nothing but a blank page.

It used to be easier, to fill up blank spaces. When he was younger, in his late teens to early twenties, he filled notebooks after notebooks with song lyrics and poems. When Sam and Andrew had met, it was so easy for him to write about love. He was awestruck by her all the time, and he still was, in a way. But then they had grown out of the naïve phase of youth, into proper adults; ones that thought about rent, about food, about taxes, about sacrifices, about laundry and grocery lists and the work to be done the next day. She had turned him down when he had offered for them to move in together, had always refused to speak about marriage. And Andrew tried hard to hide how much her reaction saddened him. It turned off a switch in him, the words were harder to find these days. Growing up, or rather, starting to grow older, that was tough work, tricky work. The kind that left all poetry behind.

He still wrote, the two books he had published were proof, as well as the poems he published regularly in journals. But these days, he couldn’t get a word down, and how was he supposed to communicate and let his feelings out when he struggled so much saying them out loud? Speeches had never been his strong suit, it was through the mask of metaphors, the rhythm of rimes, the cadence of alliterations that he managed to express himself. It was therapeutic, in a way.

But in the past few weeks, Andrew had not written a word. He was too worried for that. There was something off with Sam, and he didn’t know what it could be. It made him anxious. He tiptoed around her a lot these days, worried about what would happen if they started fighting over anything, no matter how small the issue. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t write, he wasn’t sure… No matter the reason, his sudden inability to produce anything even vaguely decent made him spiral into doubts and anxiety. He didn’t need that to second-guess his decisions, to doubt his own worth…

He heaved a sigh, closing his laptop, checking the time. Almost 9 p.m, Sam would soon be there. As if on cue, Elwood barked twice when a knock on the door broke the silence of Andrew’s flat.

She was early, as per usual, when he was always late to everything. It annoyed her to no end.

Andrew went to open the door, welcomed Sam with a forced smile, but she seemed not to notice. She merely hummed a hello, let him kiss her cheek, before walking inside the flat. Elwood approached, unhurried, looked up in hope to be petted. Sam granted him a few scratches, before turning away. The dog merely huffed, and walked over to Andrew, rubbing his side against his human’s leg, looking for the attention he craved for. Andrew granted it to him easily.

“How was your day, baby?” he asked Sam in a sweet tone, but she shrugged, waiting for Andrew to move out of the hallway and into the living room.

“Not much. You?”

“I’m fine, yeah.”

He wanted to talk about his research, and how he wanted to start writing a new article, how he was almost done planning out his class for Yeats’s poetry, how sad you looked still, how worried he was for his family these days. Instead, Sam claimed the conversation, and he didn’t try to fight against it so he could speak again.

“I wanted to talk to you, Andy.”

“Sure, what’s up?” he asked back, standing straighter, quitting Elwood’s petting and following Sam to sit on his sofa.

She seemed nervous, in a way she rarely was around him. He was nervous too now, had a bad feeling about all of this.

“I don’t know how to say this,” she spoke in a weak voice, he reached for her hand to reassure her.

“Straightforwardly,” he answered with a smile.

He pushed back a strand of hair behind his ear, tiredly adjusted his glasses. Slowly, she nodded, took a deep breath before speaking.

“Andy… you know how important you are to me. You’re… you’re the first man I ever truly loved, the first person I could see myself with on the long run. And I care about you, about your happiness… I care so much. And this is very hard for me to do this to you, to us, but…”

She took another deep, slow breath, and Andrew could see the tears in her eyes, the way she struggled to hold them back. He knew what was coming, didn’t want to think it true, but it was.

He knew his world was about to get shattered before she spoke the words he dreaded.

“I’ve been happy with you, genuinely happy. But this… I’m so sorry, Andy, but I think we need to break up.”

Andrew blinked at her, his brain refusing to understand her words, refusing to work now. He forced himself back to the present, forced himself to repeat her words.

Break up…

“What… What do you mean? What do you mean ‘break up’? You… you want us to take a break?”

“No, Andy. I want us to break up. For good. I’m so sorry.”

“But, I… I love you. We’re… we’re good together, we… we belong together.”

“I’m sorry, Andy. But I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

“What triggered this? Did I do something wrong? Are you angry at me? I… I can change for you. I can make things better. I can make you happy, do whatever you want me to do…”

“I’m sorry… there’s nothing to do. It’s not… it’s not you. I just feel like… we’re not on the same page, anymore. We were so young when we got together, we’ve grown into different people. I… I’m sorry.”

“Why now? What happened?”

“Nothing…”

“I know you, Sam. I know you better than anyone. I know you’re lying. What happened? What triggered this?”

“Andy…”

“I don’t want you to leave… we can make things work!”

“We can’t…”

“We can make efforts, we can…”

“I don’t want to, Andy. I’m sorry. I just… I love you, but… not enough, anymore.”

These were the words that made him break, that turned his desperate tone into silence, his begging eyes into teary ones. He started crying.

She didn’t love him anymore…

Not enough…

“But I love you…”

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

He let tears overcome him, drown him into silence. Sam was crying as well, but not as violently.

“Why? Why now?”

“I just… nothing, I just…”

But she fell silent, and Andrew wasn’t a fool.

“Is there someone else?”

She looked away, looking guilty.

This couldn’t be happening…

“We met just about two months ago. I just… I think I’m falling in love with him. And if I can love him, it means I don’t love you the way I should anymore…”

He buried his face in his hands.

This could not be happening…

He refused to ask her if she had been having an affair, Andrew knew he didn’t have the strength to hear her answer.

He was falling; falling into an endless pit and he would die once she would have left with the ground in her care.

They fought after that, he tried to hold her back. And perhaps she didn’t deserve it, but Andrew was in love, and he had thought for years that she was the one, that them, their couple, was the constant element in his life. He fought for her, there was nothing he could do. When she said she would only be happy with someone else, he let her go.

He cried all night, called in sick the next day. He answered your worried email, explaining what had happened in a clear, concise way that left out any detail. You said you were sorry. It didn’t make him feel better at all. In the evening he got so drunk he had no memory left of that night in the morning. For a moment he thought none of this had happened, the pain through his skull was too vivid for that. But then reality came back, and when he hurried to the bathroom to throw up, he wasn’t sure whether he was sick because of the remnants of alcohol in his system or because of the pain of losing her.

When she texted a few days later asking if they could still stay in touch, Andrew was too heartbroken to see the red flags. He answered yes, dreamt of having Sam back in his bed, thought about ways to win her over again, and fell asleep that night out of exhaustion and too many tears.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfic #hozier series #hozier professor au #hozier au #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #series

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leveloneandup · 2 months

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For Christen Press, the Joy is in the Journey

Progress isn’t perfect.

That’s been Christen Press’s motto over the 781 days since she last played in a soccer match—and not just when it comes to her recovery from the ACL tear she sustained in June, 2022, but also when thinking about life as a whole.

“You have to accept that things won’t go the way you think they will, but maybe they’ll go better,” she explains. “Progress isn’t linear. It’s up and down and back and forth. But in that movement there’s more than what you ever imagined. So the imperfection—the struggle, the setbacks—those are actually the greatest gifts as you get to learn about yourself and you have the chance to grow.”

Press has had more than her share of setbacks over the last two years, as an initial surgery turned into two, then three, and finally four.

“I think every single time that I was told I’d have to have surgery, from the first ACL reconstruction and the three scopes that I had, I always thought I would be on the quickest timeline possible,” said Press when she returned to Angel City training in June. “I think that's part of who I am. I'm just relentlessly optimistic. I'm naively positive, and just thinking that everything's going to work out for me—and I never want that to change, you know? And I got off course of all of those timelines so many times that I finally had to actually relinquish that expectation of myself.”

In her two years off the field, Press says she’s grown and healed in more ways than just physically, but the goal was always to return, even if that possibility felt far off at times.

“I never thought about giving up,” says Press, “but there were moments that I thought I’d have to accept that I wouldn’t make it—or that ‘making it’ might not look how I expected.”

One of the hardest things about this process has been accepting that the outcome was not fully under her control. “I’m able to do a lot of suffering for success, and I’ve been that way since I was a child,” she says. “The question I had to answer was how to accept and be open to things I cannot control.”

Press had access to the best medical and rehabilitation care in the business—first at the Meyer Institute of Sports, an El Segundo rehab and performance facility specializing in elite athletes, and then with Angel City’s training staff, including VP of Medical and Performance Sarah Smith, Head Athletic Trainer Manny De Alba, Head of Sports Science Dan Jones, Director of Rehabilitation Sarah Neal, Performance Coach Michael Roman, Assistant Athletic Trainer April Seymon, and Senior Physical Therapist Joscelyn Shumate Bourne.

Ultimately, bodies don’t always heal the way we hope they will. All she could do was show up every day and try her best.

“I had to make decisions that centered my well being and full personhood,” she says. “To start to find my inherent value outside of excellence in the pitch.”

In part, that meant finding joy in other areas of life. She worked on her business, re–Inc, including starting a podcast with (business and life) partner Tobin Heath, initially focusing on the 2023 World Cup, then branching out to cover women’s soccer more generally. She went to the beach. She spent time with family.

In some ways, this time away from the game Press loves has been freeing. “The last two years have been the first of my career that I wasn’t evaluated on my performance,” she says. “I showed up for PT every day with a smile on my face and gave max effort. That’s all I had to do.”

Press’s return comes at a perfect time for the club: they’ve begun to build momentum with two convincing Summer Cup wins, against Club América and Bay FC, as they look ahead to the back half of the regular season. Playoffs are still well within reach heading into this stretch, a fact that Press’s return can only make more tangible.

“Her quality is inevitable,” says First Assistant Coach Eleri Earnshaw. “Last week in training, she scored a couple of goals that we haven't seen anyone else do yet this season in training.”

Returning to play after such a long hiatus isn’t easy for anyone, but Earnshaw says there’s a point the coaching staff have emphasized both to Press and to other injured players eyeing a return to the field: “your ability doesn't change overnight,” she says. “There are some things that just stay with you. Her chance creation, her separation from defenders—you’ve got to be in the right physical and mental place to be able to perform those things, to be confident to do it, but she is building those things up every day.”

“If we can get that quality onto the pitch for any number of minutes, great,” she concludes.

As Press anticipates her return to what she calls “the real world of professional sports”—one “filled with stress and pressure and often angst,” as she puts it—she’s going in with a fresh perspective.

“I’m determined to enjoy it,” she says. “I know who I am as a player and person, and I see this opportunity as a chance to do what I love. I told my teammates today: football is a miracle. It’s a miracle we get to do the thing we love.”

#christen press #angel city fc #cp off sei #article

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eimids · 10 months

Note

I would love another part to the lionesses x reader series! maybe where they are meeting fans after a game but people get a bit aggressive and lucy steps in to protect reader and makes them feel safe after

Overwhelmed

Lionesses x reader (part 5) once again a quick blurb!

Warnings: Some angst and talk about being overwhelmed, some nasty man being a bit handsy as well, but nothing major!

"Y/n here, come here" Someone yelled from the crowd after the game against Netherlands which ended in your win. You managed to get a goal as well as assist Russo to make one.

Meeting fans wasn't anything new for you. You were used to it at Arsenal and at Lionesses. It was fun to see all the fans and interact with them. You loved to see the joy on their faces, especially on young girls. You wanted to inspire them to love football and have a career in it.

That day Wembley was packed full. There was too much noise, the lights were too bright and you were overall just tired and overwhelmed. Beth was next to you signing some shirts. She was happily chatting with some fans and even gave her jersey to one of them.

You went to the fan who was yelling your name the loudest. It was a teenage girl and couple of her friends.

"Hi there!! Did you enjoy the match?" You asked them as you got closer. The girls started screaming.

"OMG CAN I HAVE YOU SIGNATURE!!" One of them yelled. You didn't enjoy the yelling but happily signed her jersey with you name and number 12 on it.

"There you go!" You said as you gave the shirt back to them.

"Pleas a photo?" Another of them asked hopefully.

"Yeah sure" You answered and took the phone that was put into your hands.

You smiled to the camera and snapped a photo. Then you just gave it back to the girls who were screaming once again. Next there was a young girl, about 6. You signed her shirt as well and she had the biggest smile on her face.

Next was a man asking for a photo. He was wearing your shirt and you thought it was nice to see men supporting the women's football.

"Take my phone please" He yelled and you took it. You once again flashed a smile and snapped the picture.

As you were giving the phone back the man grabbed your hand. You tried to pull it back, thinking it was just an accident but it didn't work. He had a strong grip on your hand. He even gave a kiss to your hand. You couldn't speak, a wave of panic flashed through you.

"What the fuck mate, let her go" You heard someone yell. You just felt uncomfortable in the situation.

Millie Bright and Lucy Bronze were quickly by your side, before the security. They yanked your hand away from the man and Lucy took you in her embrace and walked you away from the situation. You still heard Millie and now Beth also yelling to the man and security.

"It's okay y/n. Let's get you to the changing rooms" Lucy explained as you walked to the tunnel and to your changing room. You were just overwhelmed by the entire situation and tired from the game.

Lucy sat you down in your cubby and undid your boots. You were still in a bit of a shock and Lucy kept explaining what she did as she did it.

"Thank you Lucy" You whispered. Lucy looked up at you and smiled. Lucy was always there to protect you and take care of you.

a tiny blurb <3

#woso community #wlw post #woso fanfics #woso x reader #lucy bronze #alessia russo #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #angst #beth mead #millie bright

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devilzukin7-johnny-cage · 2 months

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Everything will be okay...💜

Johnny Cage was always cheerful, arrogant, self-centered and a joker, but part of that was a mask to hide his worries and weaknesses, he is not someone who is vulnerable in front of anyone and we see him with a smile all the time. But a famous actor like him must face criticism all the time, the pressure of having to do everything well and not make any mistakes since he is in the public eye, studying hundreds of scripts and perfecting his performances so as not to let his career fall, among others things.

Before he was completely alone, he did have dates or invite women to his dressing room, but all that was superficial, a temporary distraction, but even in those moments hid his true emotions behind a façade of arrogance and flirtation. He kept everything to himself until he ended up drowning his sorrows in alcohol or other things that the Hollywood world itself offered him.

Everything changed that day when he went to a town far from the city to distract himself and practice his fighting skills, in addition to taking a break. The monks helped him realign himself on the right path while the pure air purified him. There he met some other townspeople who showed him something different from what he used to see on the streets of California, and among those townspeople, thanks to his temporary mentor Bo' Rai Cho, he met his daughter, Araceli, who made him curious from day one, being the daughter of someone so important to the people of the town and also a fan of his movies.

Johnny began to approach her and talk often with her, forging in those days a genuine connection and friendship that he had rarely had, although he was a little disconcerted every time he tried to advance with her and she didn't understand his advances. Her naivety was a little worrying for a fighter bartender, he thought.

Before leaving town to resume his normal life, he decided to take the risk of taking her as his assistant. At first he doubted his decision a little because she was not only inexperienced but also clumsy and sometimes still smelled of onions and fields, but after a few weeks of scolding and frustration, everything improved more than he expected.

With this, he little by little began to loosen up a little more, since he had already gotten used to being more direct since if not, she would not fully understand his words. He could be himself without feeling that he would be seen as weak man because for her it was normal to show emotions openly and be honest, everything was different in the town where she came from and she reflected it in her way of being, infecting a little of these customs to the actor.

Even though Araceli sometimes seemed to not understand anything about her surroundings or even know where she was standing, she immediately noticed when Johnny felt frustrated, sad, angry, there was no way to hide it from her, she already knew him very well and it was difficult not to notice (especially when he was quieter than normal and scolded her for silly things). Those months working together served as a healing for both of them, as she had her own internal problems that he would soon learn about through her own words.

While Araceli learned about the world out there away from her town and matured little by little, Cage now had loyal support and someone to whom he could show his vulnerable side knowing that she would see him the same way no matter what he said. Even though the actor was constantly keeping her busy with work and asking her for favors all the time, she had become his emotional support and the feeling was mutual. He no longer had to hide from his own feelings.

Characters:

Johnny Cage (Mortal Kombat)

Araceli Cage (my OC)

Mortal Kombat (c) Netherrealm Studios / WB / Midway before

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cherrycola27 · 1 year

Text

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

...........................................

Chapter 13: What's In a Name?

After the holidays, you and Bradley fell into a comfortable rhythm. You'd decided to stop taking your birth control, and whatever happens, well, happens.

After the New Year, it's Valentine's Day, and soon, you're celebrating another birthday. Bradley's gift to you is a weekend away at Camp David, just the two of you. He jokes that it's because he has run out of oval shaped diamond jewelry to give you. You throughly enjoy your uninterrupted time with him.

During the first weekend of May, you host a two day camp for teen girls who are interested in STEM careers. You bring in women who are experts in their field to teach classes, host demonstrations, and answer questions. It ends with a gala for all the attendees and volunteers.

The Tuesday after, E! News tweeted a photo of you with some of the girls from the camp with the caption "First Lady Y/N Bradshaw host first annual 'Girls in STEM' gala at the White House." You click the link and read the article about your gala.

You decide to retweet it, but make a subtle correction. You type out your response. "Thank you for the wonderful coverage, E! News, but it is First Lady Y/N Wiseman."

You tap the button and send it out into the digital universe before returning your attention to some logistical things you were working on in your office.

Across the White House, Bradley's phone dings with an alert that you've posted something. He sees that you've tweeted about your gala from this weekend. He smiles at the photo and article, but his smile quickly drops when he sees the caption you've added. "What the hell?" He mumbles.

He immediately stands up from his desk, putting off his work for another time. He needs to talk to you— now.

After a quick conversation with your assistant, he learns that you are in your office. He bursts through the door without knocking. "Bradley!" You shriek as you jump in your chair.

"What the hell is this?" He asks as he points to his phone.

"Your cellphone?" You say skeptically.

"I know that, I mean this!" He huffs as he makes his way over to your desk and shows it to you.

"Oh, the E! article. You should read it. I thought it was great." You tell him.

"Not that, the damn article, woman! I meant what you tweeted about it. First Lady Y/N Wiseman? You're Y/N Bradshaw. Why would you go by your maiden name?" He asks you with an annoyed tone.

"Actually, I never changed my name when we got married. Legally, I'm still Wiseman." You reply nonchalantly.

"Wha—why? Why didn't you change it?" He sputters.

"Beacause, Bradley, when we got married, I was planning on divorcing you in four years. I didn't see the point." You shrug.

"Is that still your plan?" Bradley asks with an edge of anger. "No. It's not. I have no plans on divorcing you, Dearest." You tell him with a smile.

"Then why haven't you changed it? We've been married for over eighteen months." He states.

"There's no law that says I have to. It's the twenty-first century. Why is it such a big deal? You ask him.

"It's a big deal because I've always called you Mrs. Bradshaw. That's who you are to me. If we don't have the same last name, it's like we aren't a —united front. It means—I don't know how to explain it." He says, frazzled.

"It's just a name, Bradley. It doesn't matter." You say before turning back to your work.

Bradley's jaw ticks. "It doesn't matter?" He says as he stalks over to your desk. He stands in front of it and plants his hands firmly on the wood. You can tell he's tense. You get up and slide in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck. "Don't get yourself all worked up, Mr. President. I mean, what's in a name, really?" You ask as you thread your fingers through his hair.

"I want you to change your name." He gruffs.

"I'll think about it." You tell him.

"You've had time to think about it. I want you to change it. He states, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Bradley, it's not a big deal. Chill out." You sigh. You move to slip out from in front of him, but he locks you in place with his arms.

"You're my wife. You're going to change your name, so that way everyone knows you're mine." He growls. You narrow your eyes at him before saying those two faithful words. "Make me."

You stood in front of your desk, your eyes locked with Bradley's silently daring him to say something back. He had half a mind to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom and fuck the brat out of you. Instead, he spun you around and pushed you flush with the top of your desk. He hiked your skirt up and tugged the lace of your underwear down your thighs before delivering a harsh smack to your ass.

"Bradley!" You gasp from pain and pleasure. "You wanna act like a brat. I'll treat you like one." He breaths in your ear before delivering another smack.

"Fuck!" You groan as you arch your back to him. He chuckles and spanks you again before sinking to his knees and burying his face in your already dripping cunt.

Your fingers grip onto the edge of your desk as he fucks his tongue into you and sucks your clit into his mouth. It's hot and fast and dirty, and you're already about to tip over the edge. "I'm going to cum!" You warn him. But right before you fall, he stops.

You whine in protest. "Bradley! I was so close." You tell him.

"I know." He responds back with a smirk. He slaps your rear again before gathering up your wetness on his digits and sinking them into you. He has no trouble finding your gspot, and he strokes it over and over again while his thumb toys with your clit.

"Fuck! Feels so good, Bradley. Please!" You gasped as you feel your release approach. Bradley can feel you clenching around his fingers but before you can cum, he pulls them out and wipes them on the back of your skirt.

"What the fuck!" You scold him. "Brats don't get to cum." He tells you. "Now, I'm going to fuck you, and you don't get to cum until you decide to be a good girl for me." He growls before slamming into you.

He doesn't give you any time to adjust to his size before his hips are roughly smacking yours. He has one hand gripped on the back of your neck. The other his holding both of your arms behind your back. This gives him the leverage he needs to hold you in place or pull you back against him while he fucks you.

He's so deep you can feel the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. Within minutes, you're already close to the edge, after being denied twice.

"Fuck—please. Bradley, I'm so close!" You practically cry. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?" He grunts out. "Yes—yes. Please." You moan. "Tell me who you are then." He commands.

"I'm you're good girl." You pant.

"Nope. Not right." He moans.

"I'm you're little brat." You preen. You're so close that you feel like your body is on fire.

"Still wrong." He groans.

"Fuck. I'm the fucking First Lady!" You whale.

"Close but still not it." He hisses as he tries to hold off his own finish.

"Mrs. Bradshaw. I'm Mrs. Bradshaw!" You scream.

"Yeah you fucking are. Now cum for me Mrs. Bradshaw." Bradley moans. He doesn't have to tell you twice. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves as tears stain your cheeks. Bradley grunts as he finishes deep inside of you. Painting your walls white with his release.

He collapses on top of you. The room is filled with your gasps for breath and the scent of sex.

"I want you to change your name because you're my family now. You're the only family I really have. I'm the last Bradshaw if you don't." Bradley admits to you. As you both come down from your highs.

"Okay." You breathe out. "Okay?" He clarifies. "Okay, I'll if it means that much to you, I'll make it Mrs. Bradshaw, officially." You tell him.

He smiles and kisses the top of your head before slowly pulling out of you. He grabs some tissues to help clean you up before sliding your underwear back into place. He spins you around and kisses you deeply before exiting your office.

He walks down the hallway whistling and greets Jaycee as he passes her. She rolls her eyes and has a knowing smirk on her face.

She strolls into your office moments later.

"I was going to see if you were free for lunch, but it looks like you've already had some afternoon delight." Jaycee snickers as she plops onto your couch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You blush as you try to deny her.

"Oh, so it's just a happy accident that Bradley just so happened to be walking down the hall with his suit crumpled, and you just have thst freshly fucked look on your face because it's a Tuesday?" She prods. You try to come up with a witty remark, but you know you've been caught.

"Hey, I'm not judging you one bit. Lord knows what Jake and I have gotten up to in the middle of the day in his office." She laughs.

"Oh, trust me. I know. I've seen it." You shudder at the memory.

"Alright, enough talking about office sex-capades, or I'm going to end up having a vice president for lunch. The new secretary service agent, Alex, I think, is downstairs waiting for us." Jaycee says as she hops up to take your arm to escort you out.

......................

A few weeks later, you wake up early. You have a very busy day. You spend a few extra minutes cuddling your husband before both of you get up. You enjoy breakfast together. Bradley asks about your day, and you tell him that you have some errands to run, but you'll be home in time for dinner.

He briefs you on his day full of meetings and budget proposals, and there are two new bills on his desk that he had to take a look at.

You promised you'd help him look over them tonight, and you let him know you had a surprise for him this evening.

You kissed him before heading out to the garage with your new secret service agent, Alex.

Bradley finished his breakfast before heading to the bedroom to get ready. He was eager to get this day over with, because the quicker this day was over with, the quicker he was able to find out what your surprise for him was. He was praying that it was that little black number he saw you sneaking into the closet last week.

..................

It was getting close to five in the afternoon and Bradley was just finishing up his last look over for this new bill. He was anxious because he knew it was almost time for you to be home, but suddenly, an eerie feeling washed over him. Something felt—off.

He ignored it before continuing to work.

He was just about to wrap up for the day when Dante burst into his office with wide eyes and a heaving chest.

"Dante? What's wrong?" Bradley asked as he abruptly stood up. Several other members of the security team and Jake filed in behind him. Bradley's heart dropped.

"Dante—" He began as he gripped the side of his desk, terrified his legs would give out.

"Sir, the First Lady has been taken."

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futbol16 · 2 years

Text

Me and the Devil • Alexia Putellas

This is my first time trying something like this but I hope you like it! Also, this fic does not follow the exact dates and scores, awards etc as they were in actuality.

Song - Me and the Devil - Soap&Skin

Word count: 2,6k

Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

The first time Alexia Putellas and Y/N Lavigne - or more commonly known as La Reina and La Sang Bleue - faced each other was in 2015. It was also your first meeting with Spain’s rising star. While it had been well into her international career, it was only the start of yours at age 19. Yet if you were to ask any of the players on the field or the people watching that day, no doubt they’d say you were a natural.

You quite literally shocked the world with your talent, maybe even Alexia.

She hadn’t been paying too much attention as she shook the hands of the French players until a new face appeared in front of her, one she had not seen before. Though she gave herself a second to think about it, waiting to recognize you she eventually came up with nothing and moved past you.

However, your presence was harder to ignore during the game. You were everywhere. While the friendly ended in a 2-2 draw you were causing havoc for the Spanish who struggled to chase you down every time the ball came near you. It was so frustrating that for a split moment Alexia lost her cool and took your legs out.

She expected you to go off on her but you only brushed it off, hopping right back up and continuing to play. It wasn’t a clean tackle either but it looked like the referee hadn’t seen it.

That friendly match marked the beginning of your rivalry, a rivalry that would last years, almost a whole decade.

Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

It had come as quite a surprise for the brunette when you approached her just a year later after another friendly, a game in which the only goal came from you, a late goal with an assist from Toletti.

You were held tightly in a hug by Wendie Renard, your teammate who had taken you under her wing, literally, when you spotted her. Alexia was hanging near the tunnel talking to Jenni, seemingly closer than before but that didn’t bother you too much as you bounced over to her once Wendie let you go.

Jenni watched in wonder as Alexia simply turned to you when you interrupted their conversation. If it were anyone else the 22 year old would have shown her annoyance clearly. But the beaming smile on your face forced Alexia to give you a gentle look, waiting for you to say what you wanted.

“Can I have your shirt?” you nervously chewed on your bottom lip, no longer having to keep up an image in front of the cameras. You rocked on the balls of your feet at the rather shocked look on her face and glanced at Jenni who was grinning widely.

Hermoso jabbed her elbow into the other’s side subtly, who nodded at you and pulled off her jersey. Once you had thanked her and made small conversation with the two women you bid your goodbyes and headed to your changing room, not wanting to make the team wait for you. Though just before you could turn away a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Don’t I get your shirt?” Alexia’s sweet voice rang out from behind you and you turned back to her in disbelief.

“You want it?” Jenni nodded next to her, Alexia following along even though with the way she stood slightly in front of the dark haired girl she couldn’t see her movements. It was evident how in sync the two were.

“Of course” with a smile of her own Alexia made you more nervous than when you asked for her jersey and you scramble to pull the material off yourself. She takes it gratefully and with a wave of your hand, you’re off, sprinting down the corridor.

“I have a feeling this won’t be the last time we see her.”

“Jenni obviously, we play against her team a lot” Alexia deadpanned, staring at the older woman who raised her hands in surrender as the two of them started walking towards their own locker room.

“That’s not how I meant it, Ale!”

And I said hello Satan, ah

I believe it is time to go

It didn’t take long for the fans of the football world to start comparing Spain’s number 14 and France’s 11, numbers which were coincidentally switched when you played for your respective clubs.

Every game of yours and Alexia’s was thoroughly analyzed by the fans as they started pointing out each of your best skills and weaknesses. They praised Putellas for her passing ability, her vision and her playmaking ability and leadership while you were praised for your dribbling, goal scoring ability and physical attributes.

Who’s the best women’s footballer, is the question and some commentators choose to analyze the differing physiques and playing styles of the two of you, while part of the debate revolves around your contrasting personalities.

Alexia is often thought to have a more reserved character, humble and even sometimes camera shy.

You were the opposite, loud and making sure to celebrate each of your goals in the best way, and despite praising your team for each game you were still referred to as cocky.

“If you have something to show off, why not?” was your answer to an interviewer who was asking you for a response for the comments about you.

There was not one game you or Alexia played that didn't end with people comparing the two of you, asking who the better footballer was.

Your rivalry with the Barcelona captain was without question the biggest rivalry in the history of women’s football.

Me and the Devil

The 2019 World Cup, it was something everyone was excited about but especially France. The tournament was held in France, the country oh so dear to your heart, much less to the Spanish players.

The knockout stage was a hard fought battle between Spain and France, a long 120 minutes of football and way too many tackles and fouls to count. It was the first match where the hatred the fans thought the two of you had for each other, was actually there.

Both teams were under immense pressure, starving for that win to survive the round of 16 and with a game so important, it came as no surprise when every time the camera panned over to one of the players they were glaring down the opposition.

But a certain camera man seemed to only want footage of you and Alexia resulting in even more rumors surrounding the two of you and the supposed bad blood between you, fueling your rivalry.

With a bit of luck, Spain would say, the final whistle was blown after France took the lead and the Reds were knocked out of the tournament. Truth be told, both teams avoided each other as much as they could, only interacting for the mandatory shake of hands, but again, the focus was on La Sang Bleue and La Reina.

Barcelona captain, Alexia Putellas - still salty from another champion’s league loss - now loses Spain's place in the World Cup

Rival, Y/N Lavigne's French team knocks out Alexia Putellas' Spain in round of 16

Y/N Lavigne blatantly ignores Spanish rival after World Cup match, is she arrogant?

Walkin’ side by side

While the Spaniards took the next plane back home France moved onto the quarter-finals against the Netherlands before winning the final against the United States, another grueling match.

You ended the tournament with a World Cup trophy in one hand and a best player of the tournament award in the other. Still, the first thing you packed in your suitcase before leaving the team’s football center was the red Alexia Putellas jersey.

Yet another jersey you got from the Spaniard herself, Alexia taking your French one home after being knocked out.

And even though she and Spain were still less than happy about the loss, the brunette was amongst the many to congratulate you on your World Cup win.

"I believe they sometimes push each other in competition, which is why the competition is so fierce." your French coach opined in a conference interview. "I don't think their rivalry with one another bothers them. I believe they have a sense of personal pride in wanting to be the best."

Me and the Devil

Champions League, a championship where teams get to prove why they’re still considered the best or where other teams get to show how much they’ve improved, surprising the fans with the unexpected turn of events.

It is a championship Barcelona tries to win every single time, much like any other team but it’s more expected from one of the best clubs of Europe. Unfortunately for the fans and the Barca players, more often than not they’ve failed at winning it.

Each and every single time they reach the quarter-finals, the semi-finals or even the final, the players of Barcelona think; this is it, this could be the year.

But Lyon are best at this, your team has won the championship more times than any other team and it’s often the players in white, your home colors, that snatch the win away from the Blaugrana women.

The number of spectators that show up for the final of the 2021/22 Women’s Champions League comes as no surprise as Barcelona and Lyon face off once again. There’s a mix of colored shirts supporting the teams in the stands but it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out which players’ shirts are worn by more fans.

‘Alexia’ and ‘Lavigne’ are the names you could read off every other person’s back, but ‘J. Hermoso’ and ‘Renard’ come in close second and third.

You’re always excited over a Lyon vs Barca match and while your excitement roots purely from the want to play against some of the greatests, Barcelona’s eagerness for the game comes from the hunger for revenge.

It’s a beautiful match, on both sides but Lyon seem to be off to a better start with a 3-1 lead before half time. The Barca girls are itching to at least get an equalizer but the way you’re linking up with your teammates is making it very hard on them. Frustrations are let out on every inch of the pitch resulting in Ellie Carpenter, Lyon’s defender being stretched off the field.

The match ends with both yourself and Alexia scoring another goal but the win is, once again, Lyon's.

Barcelona was disheartened over the loss and Alexia watched with tears in her eyes as your team walked up to the stage. She watched when you lifted the trophy with Lyon your first time in 2018 and the following year, until finally it was her time and Barca won it for the first time in 2020, only to be defeated by Lyon again and watch you lift the Champions League trophy for a fourth time.

Barcelona Femení lose another Champions League, Lyon is just too good

Has this settled the debate - Lavigne over Putellas?

Alexia Putellas, Barcelona’s star player is for sure despising Y/N Lavigne after this one - find out why…

Walkin’ side by side

"It's only the media, the press, who wants us to be at odds, but I've never fought with Y/N."

Alexia had denied such accusations but ultimately it meant very little to the football community, a simple statement wouldn’t change the news and rumors about the now 6 year long rivalry between the two of you.

Fanatics still kept their eyes peeled for any interaction, wanting to prove their theories on the ill feeling between the pair of you.

Except they didn't know that yours and Alexia’s Champions League medals sit next to each other on the shelf of your living room, in the home you share with the woman.

When the news about your transfer came out in the summer of 2022, many were questioning why you were leaving your beloved French club while others were asking where you were going. Supporters of the French club were furious at the news, you had become a club legend after all. But you needed a change of scenery and with everything going on with the national team you wanted to make a move to somewhere new.

The picture that fcb femeni posted just a week after you ended your contract with Lyon has the fans of the football world floored.

Y/N Lavigne to betray Lyon with this shocking move?

Barcelona Femení sign French striker Lavigne, is this the transfer of the decade?

Never would have anyone dared to guess you’d transfer to Barca, but the team welcomed you with open arms despite the many losses they suffered from you previously, some of them even on the international level.

Instantly rumors and speculations are spread regarding what the environment at Barca could be now that you and Alexia would be playing together.

For the first time ever the biggest rivals in women's football are going to be teammates, how will this end?

We wonder how Barcelona's changing room will be after Summer signing of Lyon's star.

All those words and comments are far from the truth though, which shows in the way the two of you link up in games. Your chemistry is unmistakable and an already successful Barcelona team only find themselves being more successful, winning games with astonishing numbers.

But behind the scenes, that chemistry of yours and Alexia’s extends beyond the ‘they know where the other is without having to look up’.

No, your chemistry is far from just teammates, if the soft lingering touches were anything to go by.

And I’m gonna see my man

Until I get satisfied

La Sang Bleue and La Reina’s statistics of the season are very similar and when you land in Paris for the Ballon D’or ceremony, it is evident it would be one of you winning.

“It’s not the kind of rivalry where ‘Oh this player is better or that player is better’. It’s more like a ‘She’s amazing but I gotta admit, she’s good too’.” the commentator spoke during the half time at your last Lyon vs Barcelona clash.

“Like Messi and Ronaldo?” his partner asked, keeping the conversation going for the fans watching from home. She let out a small chuckle at the comparison.

“Yes, like Messi and Ronaldo.”

The only question is, which one of you would be winning your second Ballon D’ors?

Although the fans kept guessing, some even saying that they’d find a way to have you both win it, you know who you want to win.

When Alexia’s name is read from the envelope she’s sure you have the biggest smile on in the crowd as you urge her to walk up to the stage and accept her award. She’s rather stunned by the fact that she’s won it for a second time but as she starts her speech and her gaze stays on one particular person in the crowd of people, she knows you’re the best thing she’s ever won.

You are shocked yourself when you get pulled along with her mother and sister to accompany her on the stage, but any nervousness you had melts away when your eyes connect with hers. There’s a silent conversation the two of you have but Alexia already knows the answer to her question when she recognizes the beaming look in your eyes.

Though to keep it appropriate for the event, the sweet kiss you share isn’t very long but the way you melt into each other is endearing to the ones applauding the two of you and the people watching from home.

‘This hard launch definitely tops Kelley O’Haras World Cup kiss!’

‘Best way to come out!’

‘I guess the hatred has been resolved’

Rivals, Putellas and Lavigne share celebratory kiss at Balon D’or ceremony

Announcement of the year? Barcelona’s stars reveal their relationship at the Gala

See, See, you don’t see why

And you would dog me around

The almost decade long rivalry of Alexia Putellas and Y/N Lavigne ends in the best way possible. Though if people would have been less focused on the possible hatred the two of you might have had for each other, they maybe would have seen the signs way earlier.

Because Alexia might be Barca’s La Reina, but she is your Reina too.

Now you'd only need to find sturdy enough shelves to hold the both of your awards.

#alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #futbol16 #woso x reader

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