#my career coach needs to have that conversation with me

[curiosity-killed]

I feel like such a princess at work being like “No I don’t want to work on projects that compromise my morals” and “No I don’t want to be a full time proposal writer” but also

[ayyy-pee]

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Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them. 

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders. 

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so. 

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle. 

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him. 

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow. 

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard. 

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went. 

Life should’ve felt perfect. 

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times. 

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you. 

What are you doing right now? 

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with? 

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you. 

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you. 

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore. 

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him. 

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan. 

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone. 

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words. 

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway. 

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did. 

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room. 

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin. 

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release. 

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either. 

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears. 

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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[k4vehrtz]

STARBOY

-> Pairing: shōta aizawa / sub! (trans) male reader

-> Request: yes / no

-> Word Count: 1K (roughly)

➷...Summary: shō offers a helping hand (more like mouth) when you're in need.

-> Notes: not the fic that was meant to be posted this week but seeing as that one is yet to be completed i thought i would post this request in the meantime!

➷...Content Warnings: vaginal descriptions, use of the word cunt, mentions of testosterone, exhibition, age gap (though not specified, both are adults), coach/athlete trope(?), oral (reader receiving), squirting, being caught masturbating, biting, at some point it is implied that shō may have a negative reaction to the reader being trans but he does not. if i miss anything let me know.

“You've got to be—holy shit, this can’t be real.” He grunts, his voice a gravelly whisper amongst the sound of sneakers frantically shuffling across the court. Jesus. His free hand immediately goes to his mess of black hair, strumming his calloused fingers through the stray strands clinging to his sweaty forehead.

It’s a lost cause — it’s all a fucking lost cause. This team is the last nail in the coffin that was Shōta Aizawa’s career as an athlete.

The corners of his lips can’t help but curl upwards at that thought. An athlete? Maybe some ridiculously delusional part of himself still had a shred of his youthful shamelessness. He is, and has been, a disgrace for quite some time now.

His days of being a household name are long gone. You’ve taken his place now, haven’t you? You’re a good player, a team player, and not too hard on the eyes either.

Shō’s had his eyes on you for a while now. You’ve come a long way since he first saw you handing out water bottles to the members of your team. Now you’re destroying his team on the court. It takes every ounce of self-control in him to not laugh. Funny how the world works, right?

 Shōta Aizawa prides himself on how mature he is. He’s not going to pick a fight with you. You’re half his age for crying out loud. He’s above that because he’s incredibly mature; As most people his age would be.

So, it’s purely coincidental that he’s in the same locker room as you. He just happened to take a wrong turn when attempting to find his team. As their coach, it’s his duty to comfort them after such a…horrific loss. But accidents happen and he couldn’t just waltz in here without conversing with you. What if you misunderstood and painted him out to be some kind of pervert? It’s only right that he makes small talk.

But the words that were at the tip of his tongue disappeared in an instant. Perhaps his critical thinking skills have gone along with it. Well, this is quite the turn of events, isn’t it?

“…In all my years of playing this damn game,” He cocks his head sideways, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “I’ve never found it remotely arousing.” He says pointedly, clicking his tongue. Your skin warms.

You open and close your mouth once, twice, and then a third time but no words slide past those ridiculously beautiful lips of yours. Shō doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring. “Each to their own,” He shrugs and you want nothing more than the floor to swallow you whole.

“I…” You start, scrambling to find the right words to say. But in a situation like this, what could you say? The coach of the opposing team just walked in on you with your hands down your pants. Not a good look.

“Wh–What are you even doing in here, first of all?” You counter, fighting a heated blush as you not-so-discreetly pull your hand out of your shorts. Fingers coated in your arousal fluid.

Silence, then a moment later he deadpans, “Got lost, and then walked in on you…doing whatever it is that you were doing.” And before you can stop yourself, “It’s the testosterone, I can’t help it, alright?” you dig yourself into a deeper hole.

Shō blinks at you, once, twice, and then a third time. It’s like you’re taking turns leaving one another speechless. Before his mouth forms something of an ‘O’ shape. You grimace, bracing yourself for this embarrassing situation to take an even worse turn. But it doesn’t.

“Jesus,” He curses, more so to himself, and then takes a deep breath. “I can leave so you can finish—” He stops himself, sounding embarrassed, “…or I can help you with that problem of yours.”

“Go—You can go ahead,” you say, swallowing hard. Everyone has their needs, you remind yourself.

Shō’s gaze meets yours momentarily, silently requesting your approval once more. You nod, turning your head to the side as you lay on one of the benches, your legs spread. Dripping cunt on full display.

He lowers his face in between your legs without hesitation, warm breath tickling your sensitive thighs. As his teeth gently graze the fat of your thighs. He takes his time, gently nipping at your thighs before trailing light kisses up either one. Stopping just short of your drooling hole.

It’s torture, really. The way he alternates between light kisses, gentle nips, and then full-on sucking hickeys onto your inner thighs. Always stopping short of your cunt.

The rough pads of his fingers dig into the skin of your hips as he holds you in place. He’s a lot stronger than he looks. His tongue lapped at your thighs covered in arousal fluid. It’s like he’s never tasted anything sweeter and you squirm, utterly embarrassed. Embarrassed by how wet it makes you; Embarrassed by the sounds you’re both making.

After what felt like hours—You don’t know, you’ve lost track of time. His mouth moves from your thighs to your glistening labia. He presses a kiss to your outer lips, taking his time to spread them, before licking a fat stripe over your labia. You feel yourself tremble, biting down on your lower lip to stifle your moans. There are still people outside. But you’d be lying if you said that didn’t make it all the more exciting.

And then it happens without warning — his tongue breaches your entrance. Your eyes flutter closed, and you knit your brows together when you feel him squeezing your clit in between the rough pads of his fingers. It’s all so perfect. He’s dragged this out for far too long.

He’s so good to you. Your legs are shaking but he holds you in place with one hand as he laps at your sopping-wet cunt like it’s his last meal. You can feel your orgasm creep up on you and oh when it does, you’re squirting. Spraying your juices all over his face, and he doesn’t protest in the slightest. He pulls away, lips quirking, and licks what’s left on his face contently.

[tvseries-writings]

Heat Kills

Plot: Reader has an heatstroke caused by an intensive workout.

Maya Bishop x Carina DeLuca x reader

You can't stand the heat; you’ve hated it since you were little, always. When summer came, you were happy just because school was over but, at the same time, you hated the forty degrees you had to endure every single day.

Then you became a professional soccer player and, having always played on teams up north, you never felt as hot as you did this season with the OL Reign. Although the Seattle Women's soccer Team has been a great benefit in your career, this scorching heat is truly terrible, especially since you are not used to it.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you grab your water bottle and tuck it into your backpack, ready to face a scorching workout in the ten o'clock morning sun.

"Good morning Bella, where are you going?" Carina hugs you from behind, her breasts pressing against your back as she fondles your butt with an amused smirk on her face.

"Car I'm on my way to practice and I'm already late ... as much as I would like to slam you against this table, unfortunately I can't."

You turn around, staying in her arms and kissing the tip of her nose with a smile.

Carina pouts, and after a few seconds, just long enough for her brain to work and understand what you've just told her, her gaze changes to a frown of confusion and concern at the same time.

"The weather alert has been issued, didn't you see it Bambina? You can't train in this heat, it's going to be 104° F out there..."

You sigh and shake your head slightly. You knew this conversation would happen, and you also know how it will end. Probably with a gorgeous, sexy Italian doctor very pissed off at you.

"Car, I can't miss another workout. Less than two weeks ago I was sick and couldn't train for almost a whole week, I can't miss any more days. I have to earn my place on the team, you know it's important to me…like this"

Carina shakes her head several times, hard. She tortures her lower lip, clenching it between her teeth, and although you find it very sexy, the particularly pissed off look on the Italian's face gives you pause to comment on how hot she is when she does this.

"You'll get sick if you run in this heat. They can't make you train with a weather alert, è sconsiderato e stupido. Cazzo."

Your lovely girl rants in her native language, and you foolishly fail to control yourself and let your eyes wander to the clock hanging on the wall behind the angry doctor.

You had never done that before.

"Are you really thinking you're going to be late? No way, you can't really think about going y/n. Ugh, who am I kidding? Of course you want to go, sometimes I think you're worse than Maya...you know what, fai come ti pare."

"Carina, wait-"

Before you can even try to stop her and reason with her, the brunette locks herself in your bedroom slamming the door and making the whole apartment shake.

You know her, you know that she just has to let the pissing go now. So, despite the knot in your stomach from the fight and with the excuse of giving her the space she needs, you bend down to pick up your duffel bag and then leave the apartment, stuffing your car keys into the left pocket of your shorts, ready to head to the soccer field.

.........................................................................................

After only an hour and a half of practice, you realize you've screwed up big time when you start to lose all feeling in your body and feel like you're floating on air. Your teammates are no better off than you are.

You cast a glance at Coach Harvey, praying that she will notice the terrible condition you are in but you doubt it. After all, she is sitting in the shade and with all this heat you doubt she is really watching you. At least, not today.

The ball is put back in the middle, after Clarke has scored one of her famous goals, and the coach blows her whistle. You run nonstop to get to Clarke's side; you cross the half-court line and are careful not to be offside as you pass the ball between you over and over again.

You don't know how but suddenly you are no longer in control of your body and your right foot ends up over the ball instead of to the side. In less than a second, you find yourself on the ground groaning in pain as soon as you hit the ground.

"Fuck."

You snort, wrinkling your nose and taking the hand offered to you without even understanding who is offering it to you. Octavia gives you a smile, although she can't really hide the worry on her face.

She helps you to your feet and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"You don't look so good, are you okay?"

Meanwhile, the other girls have taken the opportunity there to take a break and drink some water, and you don't blame them, especially considering that you still have another hour of training ahead of you.

Octavia Blake is many things but she is definitely not a quitter. Never.

"You're really hot y/n, are you sure you feel good?"

You don't answer her, you don't feel good at all, and you can't even understand her.

"I don't think Carina and Maya would agree, you know? I'll take you to them."

You don't really understand what she is saying, not at all. The heat clouds your mind; you run a hand over your forehead, you have the impression that you are dripping with sweat but actually you are not, your hand is completely dry when you pull it back.

Not good, not good at all. A cold shiver runs down your spine as you lean against Octavia making her support you even more and she is the one who supports you even more.

From that moment until she takes you to Station 19, you don't notice anything, just her shaking you from time to time as you go, calling your name several times as you continue to lose consciousness. The only time you realize you are at the station is when Andy and Vic help Octavia get you out of the car.

They’re probably calling your name but you can't answer; honestly, you don't even know how you are there, really.

You don't know how much time has passed, but you only begin to understand what is going on around you because of your Italian girlfriend's warm hands caressing your face.

"Bambina, bambina look at me. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

Carina swipes a strand of wet hair from your forehead, bringing it behind your ear. The doctor pulls a small flashlight out of her gown, turns it on and holds it in front of your eyes while she holds your head still.

"Y/n, follow the light, honey. Follow the light, okay?"

You wrinkle your nose, and the nausea you have been feeling up to this point only increases as you are blinded by the flashlight.

You scan Carina with one arm, turn onto your side and vomit all the contents of your stomach onto the floor.

Carina strokes your back, trying to give you as much comfort as she can, while Andy shoves an IV of cold fluids into you.

"Andy, call Maya. I think the heat stroke is a lo worse than I thought. She's not even sweating..."

As soon as Carina sees Andy running down the hall to find your firegirl, she immediately turns to you and takes the thermometer out of Vic's hands. She sticks it in your mouth, even though you are not very cooperative, and waits for you to make the sound to check your temperature: 104° F.

Carina gasps and her heart stops for a few seconds; she is more than aware that such a temperature is very dangerous and could even make you convulse.

You start sobbing and try to reach Carina with clumsy and uncoordinated movements, seeking the comfort of a hug. You feel so bad that you do not realize what you are doing; it is as if you have no control over your body. Your confused state only makes the doctor more concerned.

"Bella we can't, your temperature is too high."

Carina bites her lip, trying not to cry. She wants to hold you in her arms but she can’t.

"Car..."

Carina feels her heart stop when suddenly your eyes roll back and your body is suddenly shaken by convulsions.

"Damn it, no no no. Come back to me, Bella.”

Carina turns you on your side, pulling up the arms of the cot and takes care of your head.

"Vic, give her a 12-mg Diazepam drip!"

Vic goes to the station's medical supplies in a flash and rummages around until she finds what Carina asked for. She prepares the solution and inserts the IV into your left arm, which Carina says is your best arm for targeting veins.

In less than three minutes your body has stopped moving. Carina pulls your hair back from in front of your face and leaves a kiss on your forehead before unwinding the IV bag a bit to check the speed at which the drug is being administered.

"Carina!"

Maya Bishop, Captain of Station 19 as well as your girlfriend, comes running up to you. Concern fills her blue eyes that you love so much.

"What happened? Andy told me you were with her but she didn't tell me what it was about..."

Maya takes your hand between her own wincing in shock when she feels how much heat your skin is giving off.

"Shit, she's burning up. We have to get her to Grey's Sloan."

Carina and Maya exchange a glances. Carina twists her lower lip between her teeth and runs a hand through her hair. Both you and the blonde know that this gesture indicates that the brunette is very worried about something.

"No, you know how much she hates Bella hospitals. We can't, we can't do that to her. Let's take her to your office and use your shower to cool her down."

Maya leans over to take you in her arms but Carina stops her, shaking her head firmly.

"You have to be very careful Maya, we shouldn't even be moving her but we need to get her temperature down quickly. She had a seizure and I'm afraid she may still have another one.”

Carina whispers, her voice breaking as she thinks back to the feeling of a few moments ago. Maya takes a deep breath; she doesn't think she has ever been so scared in her entire life. She barely nods, taking you in her arms with such gentleness that she is surprised herself. Maya walks down the corridor to the door of her own office; Carina opens the door for you, and as soon as you cross the threshold, she closes it again.

The blonde firefighter lays you down on her bed, paying special attention to your head as Carina kneels beside you. She puts two fingers on your right wrist to check your pulse while looking at the clock on the wall.

"Pulse is dropping, we need to cool her down now, Maya-“

"Shit, she's seizing. Maya, help me!"

Carina turns you onto your side, removing the pillow from under your head and being very careful about the arm in which the IV needle is still stuck .

"Maya, Maya I need you to focus amore mio. She needs you; Maya look at me" Carina groans in frustration and concern for the blonde, watching her stand absolutely still in front of this horrible sight, "Maya!"

The firefighter blinks a few times before recovering from her shocked state and jumping into action. She lifts everything around that could hurt you and helps Carina hold you on your side so you don't choke on your own tongue.

It takes a good three interminable minutes before the seizure is over and Maya and Carina's arms ache from the force they had to use to hold you down.

"We're running out of time," Carina says, starting to remove off every layer of clothing but your underwear before taking you into her arms. Maya looks like a machine, she does everything Carina tells her to do - like turn on the shower, for example - but her eyes are blank, the Italian knows very well that the blonde is not in a good headspace right now but now the priority, as much as it hurts her to have to necessarily choose between the two of you, is you.

Maya turns on the tub's faucet and waits for it to fill. Carina steps in and slowly and gently losers you into the tub. You gasp, your eyes jerking open as your body feels the excessive change in temperature. A whimper escapes your lips as you try to pull away from the icy grip but firm hands hold you down, whispering excuses you don't want to hear right now.

"N-no, f-cold. I-I don't want to."

Chills run down your spine, making you whimper softly as you try to pulls your girls closer to you.

"I know Amore, I know... Shh, it's okay. You'll get better, you'll get better."

Carina rubs your back, somehow trying to comfort you without giving you too much heat.

The Italian puts her hand on your forehead, feeling that your temperature has dropped a bit.

"Maya I'm cold, I'm cold, I don't want to do this anymore. Please, I don't want to do this anymore."

The fever makes you start cry and your body is shaken by sobs that only make you feel worse.

Her name spoken by you make out of the near catatonic state she has been in.

“Baby, you need to calm down, this is not good for you okay? I promise it will be over soon but this way you are putting to much strain on your heart love. Please calm down."

Maya takes your hand and brings it to her own chest for you to follow her breathing and you do, unconsciously and maybe out of habit, but you do.

Carina keeps an eye on your heartbeat the whole time; her fingers never leaving your pulse for a moment, and her heart only seems to start beating again only when your pulse slows down and becomes stable again, at least for your current condition.

More than twenty minutes pass in the freezing water before you are finally covered with at least a T-shirt and then placed on the bed in Maya's office. Under cooling blankets, contrary to what you would have liked. Your mind is clearer and Carina and Maya are very relieved about that.

"What happened?"

Your voice is barely more than a whisper. You are struggling to find the words and your mouth feels as if it is stuck. It is also exhausting to talk right now, you can barely move your head towards them to look into their eyes as you speak.

"Heat stroke, Octavia brought you here Bella. You've had two convulsive episodes from a high fever. It's down now, but you're not out of the woods yet, so you need to rest."

Carina strokes your face as she points to the IV in your arm. As soon as you see it, you panic. You sit up and scratch your arm to pull the IV out. Under normal circumstances, you would think before you act but now, the delirium of heatstroke is just flying the last neurons you had.

"No no no, the press will go crazy with this news. I can't stay in the hospital, I have to get out of here; an OL soccer player in the hospital for heat stroke, n-"

Maya grabs your face and, to your and Carina's surprise, slaps you. Not so hard that it really hurts, but hard enough to bring you back to reality.

Although shock, fever, and heat stroke cloud your mind, you recognize where you are in a few moments.

"Oh...we're in your office."

You place the hand you were about to use to remove your IV at your side and give them a small apologetic smile.

"It's okay Bella, now get some rest. I'd like to keep you here a little longer for observation. We’ll take you home tonight, if all goes as it should."

Carina leans over you and plants a kiss on your lips, followed soon after by Maya.

"Now Maya and I will talk, you rest. Oh, and don't even think you've escaped the lecture. It’s waiting for you as soon as you feel better.”

Carina smiles at you with a wink and then leaves the office followed by Maya. Not before the latter mimics you an "I love you" with her lips and mentally asks you to pray for her. Surely, Carina won't let her get over the slap she gave you a few minutes ago.

Hey, thanks for reading. I know it's not much and it’s not that good but it's better than nothing, right? Write a comment and tell me what you think. Have a nice day!

p.s: I wrote this because it's like thirty-five degrees in Italy and I'm dying :)

Buy me a coffee ☕️

Taglist: @mmmmokdok @chaekhan @blackhill2245 @melatonindaydreamz @foggytidalwavefun @sevnheaven @budoxinha @gayshyandreadytocry @lighthousekiller @m456300 @blitzar-3 @in-love-with-heda @idontknownemore @lesbianbabe @speedup500 @differentranchempathfestival @mebeingthatbitch @jemilyswife @yuleni18 @whyamihere2673 @reggierizzoli

[doubledash7]

I always love more variety in my game, and I love the conversion of The Sims careers to The Sims 2 by LientebollemeiS2I. I wanted to make them more integrated though, so with the permission of LientebollemeiS2I, here are my amendment's to these careers to include:

Chance cards (for every level)

Different career levels (since some of the levels match other careers)

Connection to University Majors

LifeTime wants! The only things they don't have are specific career rewards and Wants that will roll in the Wants and Fears panel.

Please see below for a list of the career levels (the first three levels are matched for Teen/Elder) and also links if you need information such as job descriptions, wages, work days and skill requirements:

Animal Care (https://sims.fandom.com/wiki/Animal_care)

SimFileShare or MediaFire

Level 1: Dog Walker Level 2: Obedience Trainer Level 3: Sheep Custodian Level 4: Aquarium Technician Level 5: Zoo Keeper Level 6: Dolphin TRainer Level 7: Animal Acting Coach Level 8: Alligator Relocator Level 9: Veterinarian Level 10: Pet Stylist

Circus (https://sims.fandom.com/wiki/Circus)

SimFileShare or MediaFire Level 1: Popcorn Vendor Level 2: Ticket Taker Level 3: Midway Carnier Level 4: Sideshow Barker Level 5: Clown Level 6: Human Cannonball Level 7: Acrobat Level 8: Trapeze Artist Level 9: Lion Tamer Level 10: Ringmaster

Fashion (https://sims.fandom.com/wiki/Fashion)

SimFileShare or MediaFire Level 1: Department Store Clerk Level 2: Tailor Level 3: Makeup Artist Level 4: Painter's Model Level 5: Fashion Photographer Level 6: Tradeshow Model Level 7: Runway Model Level 8: Supermodel Level 9: Fashion Columnist Level 10: Fashion Designer

Hacker (https://sims.fandom.com/wiki/Hacker)

SimFileShare or MediaFire Level 1: Beta Tester Level 2: Support Tech Level 3: Web Master Level 4: Hacker Level 5: Security Consultant Level 6: Software Designer Level 7: Internet Entrepreneur Level 8: Software CEO Level 9: Venture Capitalist Level 10: Information Overlord

Xtreme (https://sims.fandom.com/wiki/Xtreme)

SimFileShare or MediaFire Level 1: Daredevil Level 2: Bungee Jumper Instructor Level 3: Whitewater Rafting Guide Level 4: Extreme Circuit Recruit Level 5: Bush Pilot Level 6: Mountain Climber Level 7: Photo Journalist Level 8: Treasure Hunter Level 9: Grand Prix Driver Level 10: World Surfing Champion

There are four files per career (eg. AdultCareer_AnimalCare, AdultCareer_AnimalCare_Conditions, AdultCareer_AnimalCare_LTW and TeenElderCareer_AnimalCare).

All four files are required and can just be put straight into your downloads folder.

You will notice some of the above career levels do not match the original careers. Some of the levels are already represented in other careers in the game, so I decided to swap some around and include some new jobs.

These files have new GUID numbers, so they should not conflict with other downloads, even the original versions of these careers.

The Lifetime Wants are also compatible with @lamare-sims 50 New Lifetime Wants for Sims 2: https://modthesims.info/download.php?t=669675

I'd like to thank the following members of our community for their assistance in these updates:

@sims2idea-lientebollemeis2i for creating the converted careers to begin with and providing their permission to share my amendments. Their original careers can be found here: https://s2idownloads.blogspot.com/search/label/SFS%20-%201t2%20Maxis%27%20Careers

@lamare-sims for creating the 50 New Lifetime Wants for Sims 2 mod and providing me assistance in making the Lifetime Wants compatible with their mod.

@sharlasims for her assistance and support with creating the chance cards.

@teaaddictyt For her Photoshop skills and support with converting the career icons.

@episims for their assistance troubleshooting the career outfits.

@rio-sims & @palominocorn for creating a tutorial on how to create Lifetime Wants.

I hope you enjoy my version of these careers and please do not hesitate to contact me if you run into any trouble. 06/07/2023 - EDIT: Thank you to @lamare-sims who found some errors in the files. I have fixed the LTW and Conditions files to reflect some correct instance numbers and I have reuploaded the zip files to include up the amended files. Please replace these two files for each career if you have already downloaded it. 05/08/2023 - UPDATE: @bothersomecryptid has touched up the icons and been kind enough to share them! They made them with to work better with the Clean UI. You just need to replace the images in the career file through SimPE. You can download at this link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1q5j3AniepLh_lE_kgWgOYOkZkq9EzHNJ/view 03/09/2023 - EDIT: Thank you to @equinoxts2 and @lamare-sims for their further edits to the conditions files. I have reuploaded all files as new links, so feel free to replace the ones in your game. Children should no longer roll LTW's and you shouldn't get any errors when choosing these LTW's. 06/09/2023 - @venomander has been kind enough to create alternative icons for the careers. You can download them at these links: MediaFile 1

MediaFile 2

[youcouldmakealife]

KS Fill: Bryce/Jared; quick learner

For the prompt: I would really like to see someone (coach or media) realize Bryce is not actually an idiot (at least about hockey)

SO: How is it, having Bryce Marcus back in the roster for this final run before the playoffs? Is it a relief to have him back? BF: We have faith in all our guys, but I mean, of course we’re glad to have Bryce back. LR: I wouldn’t use the word relief, though. That’s not the feeling I get. It’s a treat to have him back with us. BF: Yes. LR: And I don’t just mean on the ice. The guy’s a sponge, truly. Everything I teach him, he either picks it right up, or he knows it already. I’ve coached some of the best players in the world, here and internationally, and I’d like to think I’m pretty accustomed to bright hockey minds. But it’s a treat. It’s a treat. SO: High praise. LR: My guys know — I never give a compliment unless I mean it. BF: Is that why you never give me compliments? (Laughter) LR: The only thing I don’t like about that guy is that I won’t get to coach him in the Olympics. SO: You don’t see a defection to Team USA in his future? LR: Nah, pretty sure the guy’s heart is right here in Vancouver. BF: If there’s a place for a heart to be… LR: It’s a pretty good one. BF: Great one.

-After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

*

Jared’s honestly a little surprised it takes as long as it does for the coaching staff to realise just how bright Bryce is. Or more, to pick up on just how broad that intelligence is, because it doesn’t take long for them to figure out how quickly Bryce picks up strategy, almost no time at all before he’s quarterbacking the power play, stage-directing before face offs. But Jared doesn’t know if it’s Bryce’s reputation preceding him or what, but the way they seriously pay attention to what Stevie has to say, to Gabe, Bryce doesn’t get that.

Thankfully that doesn’t extend to the team: they start listening to Bryce almost straight away, on the ice and off it. Jared thinks Gabe had something to do with that, letting everyone know Bullet has a good eye, that he’s worth listening to, but it probably would have happened even if Gabe hadn’t said a thing. This isn’t Calgary, nobody’s tuning him out, assuming the only things he knows about are scoring goals, picking up women, and taking bad penalties.

Bryce’s linemates are the first ones to notice, unsurprisingly. Usually where the first line goes, so too goes the team, and the Canucks are no exception. It’s only a handful of practices before Bryce is sticking around after the coaches leave, staying on the ice to give dudes pointers, give them a little extra practice on the things they need to work on.

It means Jared has to stick around a little longer, and Gabe too, if they’re carpooling, but Gabe claims not to mind, and whenever Jared gets impatient, he just has to think about how Bryce ran him through almost every single exercise before the combine, rented private ice time when Jared was getting too into his own head.

It’d be selfish, not wanting his teammates to get that too. And, far more importantly, it'd be completely counterproductive. It makes Bryce happy too, and Jared’s always going to be a sucker for that, though, thankfully, Bryce never seems to realise quite how big a sucker he is.

But in the final regular season stretch, Jared swears he can see it click, all at once, and suddenly Bryce is getting pulled aside by Coach, waved over to serious conversations with the team vets, Rutger leaning down to intently listen whenever Bryce turns to tell him something mid-game.

“Coach told me I should consider a career behind the bench after I retire,” Bryce says when they get home after one particularly long post-practice conversation.

He sounds a little stunned, like it’s something he never considered before, which is kind of funny, considering he was technically supposed to be one when he met Jared.

Jared would have laughed his ass off at the idea of Bryce coaching back then — and he did — but now?

Well, maybe he wouldn't be the best head coach, because Jared can see Bryce getting his ass thrown out of the game after losing it on the refs — he’s almost done it a few times as a player. He can see him being loved by his players, the kind of coach they’d run through walls for, but he can’t so much see him handling the disciplinary side of things, or delivering the bad news of roster re-assignments, scratches, which goalie’s in, which is out.

Not that he couldn't do it — Jared’s sure he could — but he’s equally sure that shit would stick with him at the end of the night, get in his head, follow him home. He’s too nice to be a head coach.

Jared’s not saying head coaches have to be assholes, except — maybe he is, a little. All of Jared’s best coaches were dudes he’d never be friends with, and that’s probably part of it. Better to be feared than loved, right? That’s Machiavelli, Jared thinks. Dude had some solid points, reputation aside.

But assistant coach, well — Jared can see that. Bryce running the power play, maybe, or special teams in general — he may not play on the PK, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t run a good kill. Or maybe be the coach that takes the lead on player development, the friendly one checking in how the rookies are doing and if anyone’s dealing with shit off the ice, helping them grow as players.

“Huh,” Jared says.

Bryce gives him a curious look.

“You would, you know,” Jared says.

“You think so?” Bryce says.

“I really do,” Jared says. He doesn’t know why Bryce lights up at that, when he’s just been told the same thing by someone who knows a hell of a lot more than Jared does, but he accepts the grateful kiss that comes his way. He hasn’t earned it or anything, but he’ll take it anyway. He always will.

*

SO: So I think it’s safe to say you’re both big fans of Bryce Marcus. BF: I know we’ve spent most of this interview singing his praises, but he deserves it. We’re lucky to have him. Delighted to have him back. LR: I think most people respect his hands, and his shot, but I don’t think very many people have realised what a keen mind for strategy he has. I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t realise until he was playing for me. BF: In hindsight, it might have been a better idea to let them stay in the dark on that one. (Laughter) LR: Maybe. But I think anyone paying enough attention will figure it out sooner rather than later. I think he’s going to make a lot of people eat their words. BF: I'm looking forward to that moment. LR: Me too. -After Hours, feat. Vancouver Canucks Coach Landon Rutger and General Manager Brian Foster

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I Think He Knows

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, flirty Roy being flirty

0.9k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

“I’ll take a burger,” you murmured as you handed the waitress your menu. Once she was gone, you had no choice but to look at the bearded man smiling across from you.

“A burger,” he repeated teasingly. “I like a woman with an appetite.”

Damn, you wished you had a menu to stare at. Or a waitress to pay attention to. Or a telly playing a football match behind his head that could distract you. But no, the only place for your eyes to land was Roy Kent.

As if he could hear the way your mind was racing, he cocked his head at you. “Is this alright? Having lunch?” He shrugged. “I just figured… I don't fucking know.”

His nerves were finally showing through all the confident teasing he’d been doing since he extended the invitation; funnily enough, that helped you to relax a bit. “No, it’s nice,” you assured him. “It was really sweet of you to invite me.” Despite your own anxiousness, you grinned. “You’re letting me pay though, right? It’s my turn.”

The laugh that came out of his mouth had your chest feeling warm. “I already fucking told you, you’re not paying for this. If you want to pay, you can invite me out.”

“Fine,” you laughed, pretending the idea of asking Roy Kent out wasn’t sickeningly exciting.

From there, the conversation was pretty easy. You swapped stories about managing a football team and a classroom, laughing at how ridiculously similar the jobs could be. He told you all about his career, his relationship with Phoebe, the books he liked. You couldn’t help feeling embarrassed that you were surprised by how well-read he was; he listed off classics and bestsellers alike, gushing about plot twists that had his jaw on the floor. You countered with your own favorites, as well as stories about your time in uni, feeling like they were inadequate to his tales about representing his country on the pitch. By the intense look on his face though, you’d think that the time your old roommate and you drunkenly sang in a Tesco and got banned from it was just as fascinating as international football.

When the check came, you didn’t bother trying to grab it; instead, you simply smiled at Roy and offered a soft thank you. He winked at you as he slipped the waitress his card and leaned across the table after she disappeared.

“Phoebe told me you have a field trip on Thursday. The zoo, was it?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’ll be pretty fun. Just need a couple more chaperones though.”

“How about me?” His face was earnest, as if he was begging for the opportunity to go on a primary school field trip.

“You want to come?” you asked with a laugh. “You want to get on a bus with two dozen eight-year-olds and go to the zoo on a hot day and make sure no one falls into the lion’s enclosure? Really?”

His smirk was intoxicating. “You’ll be there, right?”

“Supposedly,” you teased, praying you didn’t look too thrilled at the thought of him joining your class at the zoo. “But honestly, Coach, it’s alright. You really don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he assured you quickly. “I like the idea of helping you out.” The waitress returned with his card, which he slipped into his wallet as he stood. “Ready then?”

No. You weren’t ready. You had no desire to end lunch, to say goodbye to Roy Kent, to have to wait until the next morning drop-off to see that devilish smile that made your entire body purr. But you couldn’t say that; so instead you walked side by side back to the school, chatting about the girls’ team and how much they loved playing for Roy.

Instead of parting ways in the parking lot, Roy walked you to your car, watching the way you fiddled with your keys, the way you often did when he was around. Probably a nervous habit, he decided. A cute nervous habit.

“Thanks again for coming to the match,” he murmured, leaning in close. “The girls loved seeing you. You should make sure you come to more of our games.” He smirked. “As long as your boyfriend doesn’t mind losing you to me and the girls on Saturday mornings.”

He savored the way your eyes widened. “Oh, no,” you all but shouted. “I, um, don’t have a boyfriend.”

Roy raised his eyebrows at you. “No? I thought I saw a picture of you and some guy on your desk. The two of you looked pretty damn cozy.” He shrugged. “Figured that was your fella.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No, no, that’s a friend of mine. Ms. Bowen suggested it, to try to fend off the creepy dads,” you explained, realizing how silly it all sounded.

“Fend off the creepy dads?” Roy repeated, not hiding his grin as you nodded. He leaned against your car, the picture of flirtation. “Well, fuck, it almost worked on me.”

The mischief in his eyes had you speaking before you could think. “I’m happy it didn’t.”

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

His smile widened. “Yeah?”

Immediately losing any sense of boldness you’d had, you shrank away from him, averting your gaze. “Thank you again. For lunch.” You unlocked your car, desperate for something to distract you from those brown eyes. “You really didn’t have to treat.”

Roy opened your door for you with a casual shrug. “Just means you have to invite me out sometime. Then maybe I’ll let you pay.”

You slid into the driver’s seat, willing yourself to look up to that gorgeous face. “Maybe I will,” you hummed. “Have a good weekend, Coach.” With that, you closed the door and offered him a small wave, one that held the smallest hint of flirtation.

It was enough to have Roy Kent grinning like an idiot for the rest of the day.

Taglist:@infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld@taytaylala12@amieinghigh@klaine-92@misshall14@rosesheerio@goose-101@gee72sstuff@alainabooks143@lwritesstuff@hayden-maximoff@optimisticsandwichgladiator@veryprairieberry@scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir@jaymum@shakespeareanwannabe@axelsagewrites@kidd3ath @brainscabs @v-nest@just35yrsandtrying @idk1234567 @ohwauwdoritos @wearethecanadians@deliriousfangirl61@laukora1030@its-a-show-stoppin-number @blue-bujo @ohwauwdoritos @seatbacksandtraytables @amieinghigh @libsybum

[chimcess]

Waterlog || pjm (3) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Teaser wc: 391 Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, more in the official posting...

Release date: April 6th, 2024 at 6pm EST

masterlist || playlist

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple. 

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him. 

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening. 

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the taglist. -Lex

[bettsfic]

Venting-

When I hear people give the advice that writing is never a waste of time if you’re having fun or you should never feel like a story was a waste of time, you should enjoy the process. This advice I believe is real and true and works for some writers. But at the same time, there are writers who are very stressed when writing and feel better about their work when it’s finished. Not the “I enjoy having written.” But the “I have crippling anxiety and can only tell if my time, effort, and semi-breakdowns were worth something if I complete what I set out to do.”

Not to diminish anyone who agrees or resonates with the first statement, I admire those people a lot and wish I was calm enough to feel the same.

in my years of teaching and coaching, i've noticed there are two kinds of writers: "process" writers and "product" writers. rather, there exists a spectrum from one to the other.

on the process side, you have writers who reach a flow state fairly easily, who can become immersed in a world or idea of their own invention, and they write in large part to seek that immersive state. the end of a project seems more like a tragedy than an achievement because it marks the loss of the immersive state, and it will take energy and discipline and happenstance to find the next. i've also noticed that it becomes harder rather than easier to find that state over time; the more projects you finish, the fewer ideas appeal to you in the same way.

conversely, product writers get to feel that sense of achievement upon completing a project that process writers may lack, and that pleasure is worth the pain and turmoil of the act of creating something. product writing takes a lot of strength, patience, and discipline i think, to do something hard for the reward of having done it. it's the difference between an athlete and a surgeon. a person becomes an athlete for love of the sport, the act of playing. winning is important, but they wouldn't be able to win without first finding joy in the game. a surgeon, on the other hand, probably doesn't get into the job for the fun of operating. the fulfillment is in the operation's success; it's hard work with high risk. but the reward of saving or improving lives is worth it.

admittedly as a process writer it's always been hard for me to wrap my head around product writers. not only do i not have the patience to seek a sense of achievement, i think i'm mostly incapable of relishing any reward at all unless the reward is in the pursuit itself. looking back, i can't think of any single moment i've ever felt a sense of success. but also i've always struggled with concepts like ambition and competition. i've never had any drive to win anything, but also i've never felt much when i lose or fail. sometimes i wish those things mattered more to me, because then i would be a more driven and decisive person, and i'd be more successful in my career.

i know i'm on the extreme end of the process-product divide, and that colors a lot of my perspective of teaching and mentoring. but i think writers can shift on the spectrum depending on where they're at in their writing life or even with whatever project they're working on. i've been trying to have a more product-based mentality recently to at least develop the skill of shifting to the other side when i need to, so that i can get the patience and focus to write a novel that is not just me plopping my heart onto the page and hoping somebody out there cares. product writers have an easier time convincing other people of the value of their story, because the value of the story is a big reason why they write it. a purely product writer, like the surgeon, writes something because they feel that thing needs to exist in the world. meanwhile the only way for a purely process writer to be professionally successful is to happen by sheer coincidence to find an immersive state that also crosses with the interests of the current market. like the athlete, success involves training, hard work, and being at the right place at the right time. sure, churning out 100k words in a couple months and having a blast while doing it is great, but it comes from this wild inner place that can't really be controlled; meanwhile product writers can take that wildness and intentionally shape it into something. when you're feeling jealous of the other side, though, it's important to remember that both the meadow and the garden are equally beautiful.

[iinsertblognamee]

purple to blue

summary ― you say goodbye to perth glory

pairing ― sam kerr x reader

warning/s ― fluff, angst?

masterlist

You and Sam had thrived in the Matilda’s. The wins coming one after the other. You had been fortunate enough to score multiple goals, bringing your team to victory. 

Although your skill caught someone else's eye. The offer to move to Sydney F.C. came after the Asian Cup Final. Kyah Simon was the first person you spoke to about the offer, she congratulated you with a cheer and a hug. You expressed your worries about moving over to the new team, and she assured you that the team was nothing but supportive and felt that it would be a great move for your career. 

You knew ultimately that Sydney F.C. would bring you the experience that you would need for your career, your parents agreeing that the change of teams could bring you skills and knowledge that Perth Glory didn’t have. Working with a new team, different coaches and trainers. 

The was one problem, Sam. The two of you had been playing for Perth Glory together for two years, it was one of the reasons you two had finally gotten together and you felt like you were cheating Sam out by moving. You knew the dreams you both had, holding that trophy for Perth Glory. Setting off the sunset with celebrations from your hometown. 

You had managed to pull Sam away from a night out with the Matildas, holed up in your hotel room. You had grabbed some room service, your nerves not helping with your appetite as you pushed the eggs around your plate. Sam caught on to it almost immediately but didn’t push. 

A few more minutes had passed, Sam’s plate empty whilst yours hadn’t been touched. The uneasiness radiating off you. You watched from the corner of your eye as Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times, debating if she should say anything. 

She does. 

“What’s going on Y/N?” 

Your mum had told you that the news was going to be hard for Sam to hear (she knew how much the two of you relied on each other) but you needed to just rip it off like a bandage so the two of you could work through it. 

That was easier said than done. 

“I-” the words got caught in your throat but you could hear your mum telling you to trust her. Trust Sam. 

“I-I have something to tell you, Sam,” you said hesitantly, trying to work out how exactly you were going to digest the rest of the information. 

Sam’s heart sank. She wasn’t stupid, the phrase often preluded bad news. In the back of her mind, she feared their relationship. Feared it was coming to an abrupt end. As much as she didn’t want it to happen, she couldn’t hear those words come out of your mouth. She needed to take some sort of control over the conversation. 

Without thinking, she blurts out “Are you breaking up with me?”. 

You notice the fear in her eyes instantly, tears welling up just as fast. Your head shakes. 

“No! No, god no,” You exclaimed, taking Sam’s hand as you continued to shake your head. “Sam I would never” you add, trying to establish where her thoughts were coming from. 

“Then what’s wrong? What’s going on?” her voice cracks, a clear sign she was on the verge of crying. The fear hasn’t left her eyes. 

“I’ve been offered a spot in the Sydney FC Team. They were impressed with how I played in the Asian Cup, my skills and consistency. It’s a really big opportunity.” 

The announcement hung in the air between them. You watched as the fear left Sam’s eyes, although her face expressed a range of emotions. Surprise, excitement, and disappointment. 

Sam knew how big this was, being a footballer herself she knew the importance of a team reaching out for you. She knew the answer was yes, no doubt in her mind and god, she was so happy for you. This was your dream coming true, but your dream meant leaving. Leaving home, leaving Perth Glory and leaving her. 

The silence prolongs as your face drops. Taking the silence as rejection. 

“Wow…” she pauses, trying to find the words. “Y/N. That’s…That’s great news!” Sam managed to stutter out, a smile appearing on her face but her eyes still held sadness. 

“Really?” you shyly ask, your eyes following her as she nods her hand with more determination. 

“Y/N this is great! Sydney wants you, I mean I can’t blame them. And they can offer you so much y’know?” 

“But what about us?” It was your biggest concern. As much as you loved Sam, you had never had to worry about distance. The furthest the two of you had been from each other was across the street. You knew that it would put a strain on your relationship. 

And was that really a risk you wanted to take?

“We’ll be okay. I promise. The distance won’t be forever, the season is only three months of the year, and we’ll see each other in the break weeks and the weeks we play against each other. And we have the matildas throughout the rest of the year. You’ll be with me more time than not. And we have phones and email. We’ll be okay Y/N. I’m not losing you this easily. I believe in us, love” 

You took Sam’s face in for a few more seconds, letting her words wash over you. She of course was right. Three months was nothing, and even then you would be able to see each other throughout it all. 

Your arms wrap around Sam, as you pull each other closer. A laugh leaves your lips as you start to bounce in her embrace. 

“I’m moving to Sydney FC!” you scream out, the excitement finally falling through. Sam joins in with the celebrations, cheering with you as you both jump up and down on the balcony. 

The paperwork was signed two days later, and pictures and jerseys were given out. Blue was your new colour. 

As exciting as the new team was it was daunting moving over for a short period of time. Kyah took you under her wing, the team welcoming. It helped that you weren’t the only new fresh face coming to the team. Miss Caitlin Foord and Alanna Kennedy joined the team alongside you. It was practically fate, the three of you falling into an easy-going trio. 

Being so close in age the three of you gravitated towards each other. The friendship bloomed almost instantly, stitched together by a shared passion and love for soccer. It wasn’t hard to get along, and the three of you found (as well as the rest of the team) that the three of you together meant trouble. 

In your first game of the season against Brisbane Roar, you managed to score the last goal, securing the team’s win. Caitlin and Alanna were first on the field running towards you as that final whistle went off. The three of you cheering and dancing, the rest of the team soon to join in. 

From there on out the three of you became a dynamic package. A hunger for dribbling past anyone who dared to stand between you and the soccer ball. You were all agile, fierce and almost impossible to defeat. Your instincts were your superpower, reacting in split seconds, a trait the three of you mastered through countless bruises and scraped knees (that didn’t stop any of you). 

Games went on, you cheered as Caitlin and Alanna both stepped foot on the field, scoring goals and dodging tackles. High fives and celebrations were constantly shared between the three of you as your friendship grew stronger and stronger. 

You spent countless nights on phone calls with Sam, sometimes the girls would join, and other times it was just you and Sam - sharing your secrets and telling point-by-point stories for the days that had passed. 

You had both agreed to keep your relationship private, your family knowing but that was the extent of it. You knew not everyone would be supportive of your relationship with Sam, and whilst you didn’t care what they thought you both knew it could create problems with getting selected for bigger and better things. With a clear understanding, the two of you decided for the best that you would maintain the ‘best friends’ relationship for the public. 

With that being said, it hadn’t taken long for your trio to now include Sam. The four of you moulded together into the tight-knit group of friends you were. When Sam came to visit you on her week off, the four of you painted the town red - getting yourselves in all sorts of situations that you couldn’t even begin to understand. 

It didn’t take long for numbers to be exchanged, as the three of you waved goodbye to Sam as she went back on her way. (You and Sam had said your real goodbyes the night before). The sacred secret was now shared with Alanna and Caitlin too. Although they claim they figured it out long before you and Sam told them. 

It was a relief having other people to share your relationship went. They helped you pick out gifts for your anniversary and made excuses for you when you needed some extra time on the phone with Sam. It also came with lots of teasing, sending Sam pictures of you moping around, and making kissy faces as the two of you talked on the phone. Sam absolutely loved it, she loved being able to openly show you off as her girlfriend. She’d get Alanna and Cailtin to give you flowers and chocolates on her behalf and when you got sick she gave them her mum’s homemade chicken soup recipe to help you get better. 

When Sydney FC made it to the grand finals Sam, your parents and Sam’s family made their way to Newcastle to cheer you on. Sam and her mum holding a homemade poster with your number in big bold letters with ‘Our Favourite Star’ written underneath. 

The game was tense, Newcastle Jets wanted the win as much as your team did. It was 1 - 1 by the 70th minute. The air was tense, Alanna had been subbed on and was showing the crowd exactly why she was put on. You watched the ball go back in forth between your teammates, ready on the side if they needed an escape. 

It happened in a blur, you watch Kyah pass the ball to Caitlin, an opponent close behind. She passes it over to you, immediately you start running. An open space breaks even as you dribble the ball past two other opponents and continue towards the goal. 

You were far enough out that you doubted your ability to score, looking around to see if there was anyone to pass to. You could hear the crowd screaming, you could hear Sam screaming. 

“You can do it, baby! Shoot. Shoot!” 

You manage to take a deep breath in and shoot. 

The ball flies through the air, an opponent jumping up to create a block, but the ball continues past her head and towards the goalkeeper. You watch as the goalkeeper dives, arms spread out but it’s not enough. The ball hits the back of the net. 

Silence. Your heart beating. 

The body jumps on your back and then cheers, more teammates joining the huddle as you feel them jump up and down. You manage to make out the crowd joining in with the cheers, you vision looking around at the cheering blue. Alanna screamed “Fuck yeah!” in your ear, the huddle breaking apart as people clap my back. 

You search for Sam, Your and her family jumping up and down with the crowd, her mum pulling yours into a hug. Your eyes meet, the pride on her face is enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“I love you” she mouths, blowing you a kiss. You pretend to catch it, bringing it to your lips as you mouth “That one was for you”. 

The whistle blows six minutes later, the trophy hangs in the air as your team celebrates. 

Celebrations go into the night and onto the next day. A brunch with yours and Sam’s family to bring it all in. It was nice being with everyone again, the last time you’d all been together was before you made the move. Stories were told throughout the day, Sam’s hand resting on your thigh. The conversation had moved along, Sam and you soaking in each other’s company. 

“Did you hear the good news?” Sam whispers into your ear, her attention still on the table as you slightly move your head so you can watch her face. You shake your head. “We’re staying an extra night” 

“Everyone? Doesn’t your mum have work tomorrow?” 

“No baby, just you and me. And an empty hotel room”. 

Well, you couldn’t say no to that.

[beybaldes]

but the rain is always gonna come, if your standing with me

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “i don’t want to understand, i want you to stay.” / “don’t let me lose you too.”

content warning : roy angst because we all needed some but I promise it’s a happy ending, takes place after his knee injury but before he becomes a coach

Roy had been pushing you away, it was as simple as that. And the worst part was that everyone else saw it before you.

It wasn’t like the two of you were a couple or anything, and he’d definitely pulled away from everyone at Nelson road since his career ending knee injury, but you hadn’t expected that he’d cut contact with you. In the past 3 weeks you’d sent at least 20 text messages that continued to go unanswered, knocked on his door 3 times which he didn’t answer even though you knew he was in, and called every evening after you got home from work and left a voice message. Whatever you and Roy had was special, and it didn’t take a genius to see that his ghosting was tearing you apart.

“He just needs time.” Ted told you for the millionth time that week alone, pulling you in for a brief side hug as the two of you made it to the car park, ready to go your separate ways for the night. “He’ll come to his senses eventually.”

You didn’t want him to come around eventually, you wanted him to already have come around; to come back and be here. Which was exactly how you’d ended up cross-legged in Roy’s doorway, headphones on and jacket wrapped tightly around yourself to keep as dry as possible now that the heavens had decided to open. Roy would have to come in or out of his door sooner or later.

“How long have you been out here?” Roy was stood before you, in black sweats and with a rolled up yoga mat in his hands. You didn’t question either item, standing from your seat in his doorway, not moving too far as you were conscious of the torrential rain that continued to pour down.

“Couple of hours.”

“Well, that’s just fucking stupid.”

You’d not come to shout at Roy, that wasn’t your plan. But the snark to his words and the fact he’d ignored you for 3 weeks had amalgamated into a boiling rage. “No, you know what’s fucking stupid? You acting like I don’t exist; that’s fucking stupid.”

“I’m not having this conversation.” Roy tried to walk around you to get to his front door, but you side stepped to block his actions, crashing right into him as you did.

A push to his chest and Roy’s face paled slightly. He’d never seen you angry before, let alone like this. “Yes you fucking are, right here, right now, Kent.” You’d only ever called him Roy before, never Kent, it made him want to crawl out of his skin and become someone else - someone who didn’t push you out because he didn’t want you to see him like this. Roy knew that you’d see right through him; and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. “I get you’re going through it, and I get you don’t want anyone to see you like this, but you’re fucking stupid if you think I’m going to let you go through this alone or that I’m going to let you push me out of your life when I’ve only just got my foot in the door.”

“You ever think maybe I don’t want your foot in my door?” Roy scowled, a frown deeply etched on his face. He wanted to smack away the finger that you’d poked into his chest, not because he was angry with it, but because the simple touch had sent sparks flying. “That all those calls, texts and showing up and my fucking house were annoying?”

For a moment to your face fell, and he regretted ever opening his stupid mouth. Maybe if he wasn’t so hard headed he could’ve seen you here, chastised you for sitting out in the rain for him and then invited you in, offered you one of his jumpers and cuddled up to you while he apologised and you got warm again. But that hadn’t happened, and as soon as your face fell, it had hardened again. “I don’t care if I’m being annoying, I care that you’re not going through this alone, that you’ve got someone to look after you, make sure you’re okay.”

Roy was great at many things; playing football, coaching phoebes team on Saturday mornings, cooking a full English or making some fancy dinner you’d never heard of before. But the thing he was the best at was pushing people away. “And what makes you think I need that, huh?”

“I don’t think you even know what you need right now.” The anger in your voice had lessened, but very still very much there. It was unnerving to Roy, having someone care so fiercely about him that it drove them to anger. “So I’ll tell you; you need someone to hold your hand and pull you out of this pit of despair you’ve dug yourself in. You’re still Roy fucking Kent even with a stupid fucking knee injury and with stupid fucking grown out hair that actually makes you look super fucking sexy.”

“Career ending knee injury, incase you forgot.” Roy was just being belligerent now. You were clawing at him and the entire persona he’d created for himself, pulling it apart brick by brick and Roy was terrified. He knew he needed someone to guide him through everything he was feeling; but he hadn’t expected someone else to tell him that. He’d thought, or rather he’d hoped, he’d be able to think about it when he was alone in bed at night and never again. “And you don’t know shit about what I need. What I need is for you to understand-“

“I don’t want to understand, i want you to stay.” The entirety of the anger you’d been feeling had disappeared. “I don’t care if staying means staying at the club or becoming a coach or just letting me be a part of your life still, but please stay, Roy.” The look on your face was genuinely heartbreaking and Roy couldn’t stand himself for the fact he had put it there; he vowed to himself that he was never going to make you feel that way again. “Don’t let me lose you too.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

The anger had come back just as quick as it left you. You’d poured your heart out to Roy and all he could come up with was ‘fuck you’? You weren’t having it. “Fuck me? Fuck me? Fuck you, Roy.”

His hands cupped your face and pulled you to meet him in a kiss before either of you could say anything else. After an initial moment of stilled surprise, you passionately reciprocated, tangling your fingers into Roy’s longer hair and smirking against his lips when a tug to it elicited a groan.

“Do you really think my hair makes me look sexy?” One of his hands moved to rest against the small of your back, the other continuing to cup your cheek with his thumb running over the apple of it.

“Super fucking sexy.” You answered honestly, breathlessly and slightly confused. Ten seconds ago you’d been ready to fight him to prove that he was worthy of the love you were dying to show him, and now? Now your hands were tangled in his hair, his were wrapped around you and you felt like Roy knew you loved him without you ever having to say anything.

“I’m gonna do all of this right with you.” A whispered promise, sealed with the press of another kiss, this time to your temple. The scruff of his grown out beard scratched against your skin, in a way that was strangely comforting and entirely Roy. “Come in, I’ll get you a change of clothes and we can put a movie on, or something.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

[pensat-i-fet]

No excuses (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Another fluffy slightly ansgty request for today. Hope you guys enjoy it ❤️**

Word count: 1623

Masterlist

Wattpad

Final matchday of the season. And it had been a long season. Especially once the team had nothing to play for and you could only think about what was happening once there were no more matches. It was football wedding season.

When you looked at the stands before making your way to the bench, you saw Rúben there. Last time he attended one of your matches as a fiancé. Next time, he’ll be your husband.

“You’re on”, you heard your coach say when there were only 20 minutes to go. You really expected him to not play you but you’d never say no to any game time.

“Ok”.

City had nothing to play for after a not-so-great season but your rivals were trying to avoid relegation, so the level of intensity was very unbalanced.

“Watch out!”, you said to one of their defenders who tackled you. She was being unnecessarily aggressive.

“Sorry”.

But her apology didn’t mean much when, a couple of minutes later, she tackled you again, twisting your ankle. The pain you felt was so horrible, you fell to the floor and tried to grab your foot. But touching it sent more pain to your ankle and leg, so you let go of it.

The team’s doctors were there quickly and ended up deciding to ask for the stretcher so you wouldn’t have to force your ankle more by trying to walk.

By the time you made it to the infirmary, Rúben was already there.

“How is it? You seem to be in a lot of pain”.

“Always so observant”.

He let your sarcasm slide, listening to what the doctors were saying.

“We’ll need to do an X-ray but don’t have the machines here so off to the hospital we go. You coming, Dias?”

“Of course”, he said, smiling at you but you didn’t smile back.

An hour later, you were still waiting for the results but you had been in this situation before. You knew it was bad.

“It needs surgery”.

The words no athlete wanted to hear. Rúben took your hand to squeeze it, showing he was there to support you.

“Will I need crutches after the surgery?”

“Yes, and a boot. For about…4 or 5 weeks I would say”.

“And if I don’t get the surgery now?”

“What?”, Rúben didn’t understand your question.

“With some rehab, you could move around without them but the longer we wait, the longer it’ll take for you to go back to training”.

“Can I think about it?”, you asked, surprising the doctor and Rúben again.

“Of course. We can’t force you to have surgery. It’s not a life-threatening injury. I’ll leave you alone so you can talk”.

The doctor could read the room well and knew there was a conversation that needed to happen between the couple in front of him. And three was a crowd.

“What are you doing? You need surgery now”.

“The wedding”.

“It’s in three weeks”.

“Yes, do you want your bride to walk towards you waiting at the altar in crutches? To not be able to dance?”

“Is that really the problem? You’re being ridiculous! Your career and your health come first!”

“Rúben! I’ve been dreaming about my wedding my entire life. And about our wedding since you proposed. I don’t want anything to ruin it and we're not cancelling it and waiting another year to get married”.

“As long as you’re there and say yes to the priest's questions, we’ll be fine”.

“Easy for you to say”.

“My love, the boot will be covered by the dress. We can sit during the ceremony and take the crutches away. There are solutions to this”.

“I won’t be able to walk well. How do I walk to the altar with my dad?”, your dad’s health wasn’t the best and he couldn’t walk you there if you were going to have to put a lot of weight on him.

“Mine can help”.

“I want my dad to walk me to the altar. That's non-negotiable".

“Both can do it. One for sentimental value and the other to help”.

When you started to cry harder, Rúben sat next to you to hug you. It wasn’t just the wedding that worried you.

“Stop finding reasons to make me do it”, you said, finally allowing yourself to cry.

“I won’t. I’m not letting you ruin your career for stupid reasons”.

“I can’t do all of this again”.

He already knew what you meant and felt his heart breaking. He should have guessed.

“If you could recover from an ACL injury, this should be so easy by comparison”.

“It took so long to feel confident on the pitch again after that injury. What if I can’t manage it this time? I’m tired of being injured. I’m scared the next injury will be the one that ends my career”.

“It won’t be. And I’ll be there every step of the way, ok? Should we…should we tell the doctor you’re getting the surgery now?”

You nodded, still afraid. And worried about your wedding. The happiest day of your life wasn’t looking to be so happy then.

                                       **

A couple of days later you were back home after your surgery. Rúben and your family had been spoiling you since the day you got injured. Treating you as if you were made of glass and while it was nice…it was also really pissing you off.

“I think I’ll take a nap”.

“Me too”, he saw your expression and it confused him. “Do you not want me here?”

“It’s not that Rúben. I just think I need some alone time”.

“Right”.

He nodded and left but you could tell he had been hurt by your rejection. You didn’t want to hurt him but…you also needed to be able to breathe for a second. Since the surgery happened, there was always someone by your side. And while it was nice to be looked after, your anxiety kept getting worse because of it. That plus all the wedding drama…it was too much.

However, a good three-hour nap did wonders and when you woke up, you felt like a new person. Hearing a light knock on the door brought a smile to your face.

“Come in”.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry. I’m a grumpy lady but I just needed a second alone. It’s been a crazy couple of days”.

“I get that. You just have to tell me and I’ll understand”.

You motioned for him to get closer so you could kiss him. “We can cuddle now if you want to”.

“I need to go get some food first. Anything you want?”

“Could you get me a coffee on your way back?”

“Sure”.

“It’s a long order, grab some paper”.

“I’ll manage. Tell me what it is”.

You weren’t sure he’d be able to remember but didn’t want to argue.

“Ready?”, he nodded. “It’s a Venti Salted Caramel Cream Cold Brew with an extra vanilla pump. You got it?”

“Sure. Easy”.

On the way out, Rúben wrote it down on his phone, trying not to forget anything. He was far from being a coffee expert since he didn’t even drink it. But come on. How complicated could it be to order one? Though that order of yours sounded slightly complicated to him.

When he got back, you were itching to get up and go help him put all the groceries away. But you were still stuck in bed. The frustration made you feel terrible again.

“Here is your coffee. And I got your favourite biscuits. Do you want some with it?”

“Sure! Thank you. You are the best”.

Rúben left to find a plate for your biscuits and you took a good look at the coffee he bought you. It clearly wasn’t the one you liked but it could be nice too. Even if the first sip tasted terrible. He couldn’t know you didn’t like it.

But when you needed to go to the toilet, Rúben was there to make sure you were fine and he saw the cup was almost full. You always took your time drinking your iced coffee but it looked like you barely had any.

"Was the coffee ok?"

"Yes, of course", you said, avoiding looking at him. "But I think it doesn't agree with the meds I'm taking".

"I got the wrong one, right?"

There was no point in lying. "Yes, but it's good too. And I always drink the same. It's fun to try new flavours".

"Don't treat me like a child".

"You are doing the same to me", you tried to laugh but he didn't see the fun side.

"Because you're injured. And I can't even look after you properly".

"Where is this coming from?"

"I feel useless. You have all this anxiety and I can't do anything to help. You might not even enjoy your wedding day and what can I do about it? Nothing".

"If you show up, that'd be quite helpful".

"It's not funny".

"It is. And I can't walk to where you are so come here and sit", you waited for him to do that and took his hand. "This injury is a pain in the ass. The timing couldn't be worse but I've made my peace with it. But I need you to relax. Even if I don't want to think about it, it all stresses me. So I need you to be the strong one who pretends to have it all under control".

"I could try and have it all under control too".

"Let's meet in the middle with a fake it till you make it?"

"Deal".

"Also, next time you can write down the coffee order".

"Or you could start drinking cappuccinos. That's easy".

"But I'm not".

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Four I Jump Then Fall

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: I have literally no clue how football works.

A/N: Enjoy!

Prologue One Two Three

Roy was back. I love Roy. Roy was straight forward and honest. The boys responded well to him. Maybe it was because he was one of them, but Roy understood them better. The Roy Kent effect they were calling it. Of course, that didn’t come with a fair bit of jealously. As much as I tried not to be jealous, of course Roy was getting more recognition for his work than I ever did. His dramatic return at the beginning of the Sheffield game was something to be inspired by.

But Roy and I got along. We had an understanding of the game that Ted and Beard and Nate just didn’t have. We were able to communicate in our own way. We stood on the sidelines, watching the boys scrimmage when Colin whiffed a shot at the goal. I rolled my eyes and glanced over at Roy who nodded at me in agreement.  

I was about to say something when Nate stepped forward.

            “Come on, Colin. You dolt!” he shouted at him.

My eyes widened in surprise at him. Even if Colin wasn’t my friend, which he was, that’s no way to speak to your team. Roy seemed to feel my discomfort and stepped forward in front of me.

            “Colin, you're leaning too far back. Head down, fucking whip it!” Roy instructed, in his aggressive yet endearing way.

            “Thanks, Roy,” Colin called back, grateful for the advice. “I am a strong and capable man.”

I was about to mention my concerns about Bumbercatch when Roy continued. “Bumbercatch, great pass, but it don’t mean shit if they see it coming. The rest of you in the box, when the shot goes, you fucking follow it in!”

            “You smell that, lads?” Isaac asked, letting in a dramatic sniff. “That’s the Roy Kent Effect.” The lads laughed, and I thought I saw the ghost of a smile on Roy’s face as he stepped back to stand by me.

I felt my smile fall at their praise. It was stupid, it really was. Roy was new. Roy was loud. Roy was funny. They flocked to him like he was their savior. And he was! The four-game winning streak was enough to convince anyone of that. I shifted to stand up straight.

            “Anything for me, coach?” Jamie ran up to the front of the group, looking desperately at Roy for his advice.

But Roy ignored him, clapping his hands and instructing the boys to start up again. I let out a low breath. Forgiving Jamie wasn’t easy. Especially when Jamie had all but single-handedly ended his career.

Jamie looked over at me, the disappointment rolling over his features. I gave him a sympathetic smile, shrugging indifferently.  I was jealous. Jealous of Roy Kent because he was so fucking wonderful and great at his job.

I stewed as I sat back in my chair during lunch. I tuned myself out of the conversation that Keely and Ted were having, trying to convince myself to not be jealous. Jealousy was not my favorite emotion, and it was downright embarrassing. What caught my attention was when Jamie walked into the room half dressed.

            “Hi (Y/N),” he greeted. I felt my heart speed up as he singled me out in a greeting. “Hey Keely.” And back to normal speed. I shook my head at myself. I was all out of wack today. Jealous about Roy, disappointed when Jamie greeted Keely, his friend. Just silly. “Gotta tell Roy he needs to start coaching me.”

Of course, he was here about Roy. I tried not to roll my eyes as I stood up, grabbing my bag.

            “Oh, wait, you want me to tell Roy Kent what to do?” Ted retorted quickly. “That’s a great idea.”

            “Yeah, he’ll love that,” Keely giggled, shooting Jamie a side eye.

            “Yes, I’ll totally drop it into one of our conversations where Roy talks about his life and asks me for advice,” Nate chimed in.  We all laughed before Beard turned and blew a raspberry at Jamie.

            “Philistines!” Oh! Big word for Jamie. “I’m asking for help here!”

In his defense, he did truly seem desperate, but the whole situation was just so hilarious to me, I couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

            “Philistines? What is that your word of the day?” I jabbed, moving to lean across from Keely. He glared at me, crossing his arms. I found myself looking over his features, his tense jaw, the way his shirt hugged his biceps. Were his biceps always that big? Oh, god, what was I doing. It was just Jamie. Yeah, he was attractive, but so what? I tuned back into the conversation just as Ted and Keely were leaving. I sent them away and hit Jamie on the shoulder.

            “Grab your lunch, and lets go,” I told him as I walked out of the room.

Jamie and I liked to enjoy our lunches sitting on the pitch. It's where we enjoye most of our free time together. Usually, he would ask me advice on some football technique or play he was trying and I would help where I could. But today, Jamie sat across from me, stabbing aimlessly at his salad. I shook my box, getting the dressing nice and mixed into mine.

            “Jamie, what is going on with you?” I questioned. “You’ve barely touched your summertime strawberry salad!”

I reached forward with my fork and tried to stab at it, but he warded me off.

            “It’s Roy! He just knows how to get under me skin,” he complained, finally shoving a strawberry in his mouth. “I thought I was finally making headway here.”

I couldn’t help but let out a groan. “Jamie, it’s Roy. You two have always hated each other.”

            “I don’t hate, Roy!” Jamie exclaimed, stabbing particularly hard at his food. “Well, I think he’s a pretentious old twat, but I don’t hate him.” He leaned back, setting his fork down. “I just want him to coach me.”

            “For fucks sake,” I burst out. I was sick of everyone looking for Roy’s approval, he was just a man. “He’s just Roy! If you want something from him, just be upfront. Don’t go looking for something in any kiss uppy, or brown nosey way. And anyways, aren’t four coaches enough, why are you all so desperate for Roy’s attention?”

I couldn’t keep the desperation out of my voice and Jamie could tell. He cocked his head at me.

            “Why do you care? We all listen to you anyways. It’s getting you to shut up that’s the problem!” He smirked, sticking his tongue out at me. But I was not in the mood for jokes. No matter how much I felt my cheeks burn watching the way his eyes squinted when he smiled. But no, I was angry.

            “Fuck off, Jamie,” I mumbled before standing up. I turned on my heel and left, heading back inside.

            “Wait! I was just joking,” Jamie called after me.

I didn’t turn around and I heard him curse loudly as I went inside. I walked back to my office and saw Ted sitting there, on his phone. I slumped into my chair, starting to spin. Everything was so fucked. I felt like my emotions were out of control. I was so angry. It felt like I was spiraling out of control. For some reason, the only thing in my head was Jamie. Jamie and his stupid smile, his cocky, smug, stupid smile. Why didn’t he want my coaching? Why wasn’t he fighting to get my attention? God, I felt so stupid.

            “(Y/N)!” Ted’s voice broke my chain of thought, and I stopped spinning. “Hold on there! If you spin any faster, you’re gonna whisk away a little girl and her dog.”

I felt the aftereffects of the spin setting in and leaned back, staring straight ahead. “Isn’t it a little corny to make a Wizard of Oz metaphor? Seeing as you’re from Kansas?”

            “No! That adds to the charm!” Ted exclaimed. “Now why don’t you tell me whats wrong?”

I weighed my options. I could tell Ted everything. He was great at listening and usually gave good advice. But what if he laughed at me or told me to get over myself. Though that thought along was ridiculous enough. Ted was kind. He would never laugh at me.

         “It’s just…” I began, taking a deep breath. “I feel so… weird? I’m jealous! And I’m not a jealous person. But with Roy being back, it feels like… no one needs me around anymore. Like I never got any of the kind of attention that Roy is getting now. ‘The Kent Effect?’ What about the Clemen’s Effect?” I shook my head, realizing how stupid I sound. “And now I’m realizing that I sound like a jealous third grader.”

Ted chuckled.

“I was gonna say you were turning into that giant green bean fella but jealous third grader works too.” I let out a breath laugh, closing my eyes and shoving my face in my hands. “Hey, though, don’t beat yourself up! I get it. I do. But don’t let that make you forget just how much we need you here.” I looked up from my hands to look at Ted. He gave me a smile. “The boys respond to you well, they always have. Heck! You know more about this game than Beard or Nate or myself. Roy is just… new. But there’s one thing that you have that Roy doesn’t.”

            “What’s that?” I asked, looking for an answer.

            “The ability to show by doing,” he stated. “Ever since you showed Jamie that trick about dragging his feet, he’s made more free kicks than ever. Roy’s too old and crotchety to actually be able to do anything anymore. But you! You’re in the prime of your career. You can teach these boys in a way none of the rest of us can.” He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. “And one thing I want you to understand is that we need you. We will always need you. Don’t forget that.”

For some reason, his words really hit me. My eyebrows furrowed together and gave him a sincere smile. I opened my mouth to say something, thank you, or anything, when Roy and Jamie flew in from the hallway.

            “You fucking asshole!” Jamie shouted.

            “I know you are but so are you,” Roy grunted back, starting to walk into the coach’s room. Ted and I shared a glance before both of us started to rise from our seats.

            “I’m trying to build bridges here!” Jamie’s exasperated voice called out.

Roy turned on his heel, rounding on Jamie. “You couldn’t fucking build Jeff Bridges.”

He pushed Jamie back. I flew up forward and raced out into the locker room, getting in between Roy and Jamie. I stepped in front of Jamie, feeling a rush of protectiveness flooding through me.

            “Hey, hey, hey!” Ted joined, spreading his arms between them. “What’s going on here?”

            “This man refuses to coach meh!” Jamie accused pointing over my shoulder.

            “He refuses to stop being an asshole,” Roy retorted.

 “Hey, we both know Jamie has come a long way in his journey to not be an asshole,” I defended.

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” Jamie chimed in.

“Okay Roy, you’re not going to like this but, right now, Jamie here is being the mature one,” Ted began, moving to standing next to Jamie.

“It’s true. I’m being super mature, you big, dumb, hairy, baby twat,” Jamie whined. I turned and gave Jamie a side eye. Roy suggested that it was Ted’s fault that Jamie wasn’t as good of a player as he used to be.

            “Cause, Jamie, deep down, at your core, you are a prick,” Roy stated, firmly. “So just be a prick.” I tried to glance over at Jamie, trying to wage his reaction. But he wasn’t giving much away.

We decided on a signal. A signal to give Jamie when it was time to be a prick. Or I should say, Roy decided on a signal. One we would find out about later, I suppose.  

Nonetheless, it seemed to qualm the fight that Roy and Jamie had built, and the rest of the day went smoothly. I was packing up my stuff to leave when Roy cleared his throat from behind me.

            “Hey Roy, what’s up?”

            “You’re a good coach.”

I pause and turn to face him. “What… what do you mean?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I mean, you’re a good fucking coach. The boys respond well to you. You know what you’re doing. Which is more than I can say for Ronald McDonald.”

I laughed, looking down. “I think Ted knows what he’s doing.”

            “I was talking about Nate, but the point stands.” He reached out his hand for me to shake. Maybe it was my crazy emotional whirlwind of a day, but I knocked his hand aside and pulled him in for a hug. His arms didn’t warp around me at all, but he didn’t immediately start to growl so I took it as a success.

As I walked out to my car that night, I saw Jamie leaning against his car, scrolling on his phone. When he saw me coming out of the door, he put his phone away and shot me the biggest smile. Not his normal, cocky one, but a softer, for sincere one.

            “Hey (Y/N),” He started, walking to meet me. “I wanted to apologize, for before.”

            “Jamie, you have nothing to apologize for.” I shook my head, holding my hands up to stop him. “I was being so moody earlier. Just a weird day.”

            “S’lright, just wanted to make sure you was okay,” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Seemed upset.”

Goddamnit. That was so fucking thoughtful.

            “Yeah, I was… I was having a bad day.” I shrugged. “But, I’ll be okay.”

He stared at me for a moment longer before nodding his head. We stood there, staring at each other in a not-too-uncomfortable silence. Finally, I popped my lips.

            “Alright! I guess I’ll see you this weekend. Tottenham won’t know what hit them!” I moved passed him, walking backwards towards my car.

Jamie smirked, turning with me to leave. “That’s for sure, already told Colin you’re filling in for him.”

            “Hah! That’s- that’s really- “I bumped into my car, slamming my hip against the handle. “Ah, fuck, ouch.”

            “Shit, are you-“

            “Yep! I’m fine!” I cut him off before he could be concerned. “Just great, I’ll see you Saturday.”

I opened the door to my car and got in before he could say another word. What was wrong with me?

…

This Saturday filled me with so many feelings. If I thought my emotions were out of wack at the beginning of the week, the anxiety that filled me about Tottenham just made things worse. We were one win away from going to Wembley and playing Manchester for the FA Cup semis. If we won, it would be to the excellent coaching of Ted Lasso and stellar skills of our players. If we lost it would be because of the female coach dragging the team down.

My normal routine of cheering on the lads in the locker room was replaced with my anxious twirling in my chair. Not even Ted tried to get me to stop. What did get me to stop was when Jamie came into the door way.

            “Mornin’ Coach,” He stopped when he saw me, clearly frazzled in the corner of the room. “Should I ask?”

            “Definitely not,” Beard answered for me.

Jamie cocked his head, pursing his lips at me. “Bit scared about the game, yeah?”

I shot him a glare as my feet planted themselves in the ground before twisting so I was facing the wall away from them.

            “I just told you not to ask!”

            “What do you need, Jamie” Ted interrupted before Beard could escalate things forward.

Jamie’s eyes stayed planted on me for a moment longer before he dragged them over to Ted.

            “I was just wondering if you decided on a signal for me?”

            “I told you; you’d know it when you see it.” Roy entered the room coming over to spin my chair to face them again. “You, need to stop spinning or you’ll blow chunks on the field.”

I frowned at him but stood up and brushed past Jamie into the locker room. As I did though, he grabbed my arm. My breath caught in my throat as I turned back to look up at him. I never realized how much taller he was than me. To my surprise, there was no hint of humor. Just a sea of concern.

            “Are you okay?” he murmured; his face so close to mine I could feel his waiting breath.

I bit my lip, suddenly overcome by my emotions. The same emotions that had been drawing me to his body, his lips, his eyes, every single day this week. I found enough breath to reply a soft: “I’m okay.”

At my reply, he let go of my arm and shot me a comforting smile instead. “Good, ‘cos I was beginning to worry that my salad choices had come back to haunt you.”

“No, our salads were fine.” I chuckled at his concern. “But I am concerned about your ability to play well after too many strawberries.”

“Don’t you worry about me Strawberries,” he smirked. “In a few hours you’ll be begging for my strawberry salad recipe”

He shot me a wink before turning and heading back to his locker. Why were my cheeks burning?

The game was more mediocre to say the least. Nearing the half, the score was nil-nil with only a few attempts at a goal. I could feel the energy leaving the players as Jamie passed the ball to an unprepared Sam. A Tottenham play swiped the ball, kicking it out of bounds. I groaned, running a hand through my hair.  

            “Fuck,” I spat under my breath, turning to Ted. “What’s the plan?” Roy suddenly appeared beside me, causing me to jump slightly. “Christ.”

            “Reckon it’s time to use the signal, huh?” Ted asked, hesitantly.

            “Yep,” Roy answered.

            “Yeah, okay…” Ted looked around nervously. “You didn’t by any chance come up with a better one, did you?”

            “No”

            “Alright.” Ted sighed before cupping his mouth and shouting. “Hey Jamie! Jamie!”

On the field, Jamie turned to look at us. In unison, the five of us all raised our middle fingers at him. I didn’t know how to react when Roy told us the signal he had come up with. It wasn’t exactly surprising, but I wasn’t sure how the crowd would react. Of course, the second we made the signal, the crowd burst out in laughter. Jamie’s face contorted in confusion before a look of realization dawned on him.  

He quickly ran over to one of the Tottenham players, Barnett, and started chatting to him. Whatever he said to him must have pissed him off cause soon the two of them were racing towards the ball. Jamie took control of the ball when, from out of nowhere, Barnett slid into Jamie’s legs, causing him to fall and roll to the ground.

            “REFEREE” Beard shouted, throwing his hands up.

Of course, the ref blew his whistle giving Jamie a penalty. Jamie hopped up off the ground and on his face was his signature cocky, sideways smirk. He approached Barnett and got in his face, saying something snarky I’m sure, because the next second, Barnett was pushing Jamie and having to be pulled away by his teammate. Jamie ran backwards, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

            “Hmm, glad he’s on our team, you know?” Ted nudged me, but I found myself unable to take my eyes off of him. I muttered an agreement as Jamie turned to face us for a moment as Barnett was cleared off. His eyes were shining with mischief as he raised his eyebrows at me. I shook my head at him, unable to keep the smile off my face.

            “Hey, what do you think? Trick play?” Ted huddled us in a moment. I shook my head. It was a long shot for sure, but one I knew he could make. In fact, it was the same distance I had shown him how to hit that day after training. He could do it.

            “You don’t need it,” Roy, as usual, could read my mind. “The little prick’s gonna fucking score from there.”

Nate scoffed in disbelief.  But I knew what Jamie could do. I watched as he placed the ball on the ground in front of him and took a breath. Then one by one, he dragged his feet backwards, just like I’d shown him. The turf disrupted slightly as his red boots tore up the soil. Then, it was like the world stood still, he jaunted forward, hit the ball with the side of his foot and watched as it flew through the air. Then, with the sweet swish of the goal, the world exploded into cheers. The stadium flew into a state of celebration as the team ran to Jamie’s side.

            “YES!” I cried. “FUCK YES JAMIE!” Jamie turned again, to look over at us. In one swift motion, he flipped us off with both of his fingers. I laughed and shook my head, feeling that flutter in my stomach again. Then it hit me. Just as quickly, as if it was a football to the face. It hit me, staring at his tongue sticking through his lips, as he celebrated with his teammates. It hit me that I was most definitely in love with Jamie Tartt.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!

Tag list: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @ajax-petropolus-wife

[mapileonxputellas]

Hola (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Request found here. Yes! Yes! Yes! Love this! So I contemplated making this a bit more saucy but then I wasn't too sure so this is like just sexual tension! 3.5k words x

If your friends and family had to describe you using one word, it would be confident. You learnt from a young age confidence is everything in sport, especially being a striker, without that you would never be where you are today. That confidence was needed to take you on your next journey and led you to Barcelona. Having spent your whole career at Arsenal, from the academy to a regular player, when it came to renewing your contract you felt that now was the right time to make the change, at the age of 25 you were ready for a new challenge. Having made a name for yourself in the WSL and in the Euro’s, when Barcelona approached you it seemed like the perfect fit. Having Lucy and Keira also making the move was a massive help to you, settling into the city together and having someone you could speak English to with your very basic Spanish knowledge.

What you would say was definitely your best season to date was rewarded with a Ballon d’Or nomination, though you knew it was already staying in the arms of your current teammate. A teammate who you were yet to meet. Though you’d been in Barcelona for over two months now and were loving your new life and teammates, it seemed like fate didn’t want you and Alexia to meet. Even though she was injured she still attended the odd training session but you never seemed to be in the same place.

You knew that would change today as you arrived at the pick-up point to head to the airport, you would be heading off with the men’s team and staying overnight before making your way back to Barcelona tomorrow. Asisat, Lucy and Frida had already arrived by the time you got on the coach, sitting at a table to yourself, but you were just missing the final leading lady.

You could hear the commotion at the front as she arrived, greeting the men’s players before joining your group at the back and the first thing you noticed was how attractive she was in real life. Of course she was attractive on photos but in real life she definitely hit another level.

“Hola,” She finally came around to greeting you with a little smile as she took the seat opposite you. “I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met.”

“I was beginning to think we never would, it’s like you’ve been avoiding me.” You replied, which received a wink in return. “Are you excited?”

“Si, if not just to spend the night with you.”

“Always the charmer Putellas.”

“Always.”

If this was any other situation you would be the first to spark up the conversation but for some reason the girl in front of you was making you nervous, the odd look shared between the two of you but for the most part the conversation was initiated by the others in the group.

Not much changed on the short plane journey either though Lucy did bring up an awkward topic on the group after you’d all moved around one table on the private jet, Alexia to one side of you as Lucy was opposite you with Frida and Asisat.

“So how’s Ana?” Lucy tried to tease you with that cunning look in her eye that you knew so well.

“I mean I think she’s fine, why’d you ask me?”

“Oh come on we can all see it, you two are like always together.”

Whilst that may have been true and you had made a good friend in Ana, there was nothing more than that to it but before you could reply Alexia made her feelings known. “Wow and you say I have good charm.”

“I never said mine isn’t better but just to confirm we’re friends, I can’t just spend my whole time third wheeling you and Keira.”

“That makes a change.”

…..

The rest of the journey carried on in the same vain, mostly just a lot of you and Lucy teasing each other and the other girls joining in. You kind of wished you would have had a bit of time to get to know Alexia, of course you were going to be teammates at some point but the girl next to you intrigued you. You were alike in many ways in that you exuded confidence on the pitch but you wanted to know about the other side to her.

Arriving at the hotel, the club had organised a make up artist for each individual player in their rooms and all was going well until you realised once she had left you had no-one to help you get ready. If there’s one thing you were known for other than football it was your quite bold fashion statements and this time you had chosen a cream suit with a lacy bralette showing underneath attached to a chocker made of pearls. You’d barely even got through the first piece without encountering an issue and that came in the form of your bra which had a set of hook and eyes leading up to the neck. You tried with all your might but you just could not get them to do up properly, which left you with only one choice and that was to go and get some help. The problem was that you hadn’t taken enough notice of who was in the rooms around you and you knew the girls probably wouldn’t answer their phones.

Taking a deep breath you fixed the bathroom robe over the loose garment and went out into the hallway and with no idea who’s it was, knocked on the door across from your own.

Things could not get much more awkward as the girl you only met today opened the door, already in her own dress. “Hola, are you not going to get ready?” You barely heard the question as you took her whole outfit in, from the slick back ponytail to the incredible dress, she looked amazing. “Y/N!”

“Sorry, I was hoping you could help me, it’s got a fiddly fastening.”

“You better come in then.”

“Thank you.” You walked further into the room, noticing the stark contrast in her organised room compared the chaos behind your door. “You look good by the way, more than good, incredible actually….”

“I’d return the compliment but I don’t think you’re going in that bath robe.”

“No this is for your eyes only.”

“I’m honoured.”

Turning your back to her, your first instinct was to just drop the bath robe completely but you only realised once it was too late that doing so left you stood in someone else’s room in only a see-through bra and matching thong, quickly bending down to secure it round your waist. “Sorry.”

“No don’t apologise for that.” Her cold hands left shivers down your spine as she lightly made contact with your back whilst doing up the fasteners, continuing to work her way up until she reached the final one. “Cold? You’ve got goosebumps, I thought it was pretty warm in here.”

“Something like that.” You quickly muttered before pulling your robe back up. “I’ll see you later.”

“I look forward to it.” Just as you went to open the door a hand on your back stopped you. “You look great too by the way, breath-taking.”

“Smooth talker Putellas.”

“Like you said, I’m a charmer.”

You quickly escaped the room before your cheeks became anymore red, completing the outfit with your matching suit and killer heels that your stylist had forced you to wear. Forgoing a bag, you stuffed your phone into the inner pocket before rushing down to meet the others, knowing you were already slightly behind schedule.

“Here she is.” Lucy announced your arrival as you walked into the entrance hall, all eyes on you as you grabbed a quick glass of water before the photos started.

As Alexia and yourself were the highest in contention for the main award, you took your places in the middle of the group photos, Alexia to your left and Gavi to your right. “I was right, you look incredible.” Alexia whispered in your ear as everyone settled around you, her arm wrapped around your waist much like your own onto hers. “Fucking incredible.”

“Can’t let down La Reina over here”

It felt like you were stood there for hours taking photos, different combinations of people with the president coming in for some and the managers joining for others, but finally you were loaded off into the cars to the venue.

“Now I can’t get rid of you.” Alexia joked as she joined you in the car for just the two of you, a healthy amount of distance between you both as the car started though you could still feel her eyes trailing up and down your body. “Do you have a stylist for events?”

“They offer suggestions and then I have the final choice, this was my suggestion though. I don’t know suits kind of make me feel powerful, in control. Some might say dominant.” Now it was your time to turn on the charm as you could see her slightly moving in her seat. “What do you think?”

“You definitely look dominant right now.”

“Good.”

“Do you enjoy evenings like this? The paparazzi are always crazy at anything like this.”

“I like that we’re finally getting the chance to have some praise for our achievements. Interviews and all that don’t bother me, it’s just the initial photos. I don’t know sometimes the bright lights panic me, I know it’s stupid because we play in front of thousands every week but just standing there….”

“It’s not stupid.” She reassured you, gently placing her hand over your own on the middle seat, lightly tracing her finger over your hand. “No-one is the same on that field and with our family and friends as we are with the media.”

“What about you, you must be getting used to this all now?”

“I’m still not comfortable with it but I just know that tonight I’ll just be getting questions on the whole Spain situation and the injury. Like if I win, no-one will even be talking about the football.” She was obviously trying to be conservative but everyone knew Alexia would be the one taking the award home tonight.

“You’ve just got to remember you’ve had an amazing season and you got voted to be in this position, no-one can say you don’t deserve it.”

“I won’t say it was a positive because it was a shit time all round but this injury did mean that I got to watch a lot of you at the Euro’s and you deserved the player of the tournament. If anyone should win tonight it’s you.”

“Thank you.”

….

All too soon you arrived at the venue, the red carpet lined with photographers up to the interviewer at the end. You could feel the panic in your chest when you all stood for the photos but the ever-present hand on your back from Alexia grounded you. Every few minutes she would check you were fine before the both of you conducted a joint interview.

“Alexia how does it feel to be nominated tonight for your second Ballon d’Or in a row? You’ve got stiff competition this year.” The woman asked.

“It feels incredible to be here tonight, celebrating football and how it can be enjoyed by everyone regardless of their gender. The competition this year just shows how competitive the women’s game is and I’m in awe of every single player nominated tonight, including Y/N.”

“Y/N this is your first Ballon d’Or, you had an incredible summer but would winning tonight top it all off? Is this awkward trying to steal Alexia’s crown?”

“It was an incredible summer and of course it was nice being nominated but I know what incredible season’s everyone on that list had. In terms of Alexia, she’s an incredible player and she deserves this award, I’m just glad I can spend more time with her this season and I’ll see if she can give me any tips.”

“Good luck tonight girls.”

“Thank you.”

Both Alexia and yourself were shortlisted into the top 5 players and had managed to be seated next to each other as you awaited the final results and for the winner to be announced. Before the camera panned to yourselves you leaned over in the seat to whisper into her ear. “Good luck making the speech if you get nervous just picture me earlier. You know the effect you had on me, I wanted to be powerful tonight and you made me want to get on my knees for you.”

“And the winner of the Ballon d’Or is… Alexia Putellas.”

You thought she would just send you a smile before walking onto the stage but she leaned over to pull you in for a hug instead her arms low on your waist, taking the chance to whisper in your ear. “You don’t understand how much self-control it took to not rip that off you.” Thankfully she managed to compose herself, quickly making her way up to the stage, you watched on almost in awe as she nailed the speech, thanking her teammates and her family and friends before she looked your way. “I also want to applaud and congratulate my fellow nominees, I for one cannot wait to see you all thrive this year, especially those at Barca, we all have so much to show one another and the world. Thank you.”

@yourusername: Ballon d'Or 2022.

Comments:

@/alexiaputellas: 🔥🔥 photo creds?

↪️ @yourusername: always ❤️

…..

That night felt like months ago though in reality it was only a few weeks, the only negative being that straight after the awards Alexia was whisked away and didn’t even travel back with you all. The most disappointing thing for you came in the lack of contact between the two of you, she’d probably forgotten all about you once the night was over. It’s fair to say you hadn’t though, you could remember all the tension you felt between you both, the spark you felt when her hands touched your skin. Everything. You’d kept an eye out for her during the training sessions but you never spotted the girl who was in your thoughts all the time.

Two weeks had passed since the ceremony and you were celebrating a 2-1 win over Levante having scored both of the goals.

“Y/N I’ll pick you up tonight.” Ana shouted just as you were about to leave the changing room. “9 alright with you?”

“I’ll be ready, thanks.”

The team had organised to celebrate with a few drinks at an exclusive bar, come club, that had recently opened. With it being an evening kick off you only had a few hours to get ready and into the outfit you had chosen, a black silk shirt and skirt combo which you left open at the front.

“You look great.” Ana said as I got into her car that night. “Out to impress anyone?”

“Only myself.” Through spending a lot of time with Ana you’d told her vaguely about what happened that night, she tried to persuade you to just message Alexia but your nerves of getting rejected pushed you back each time.

“Good for you.”

“How’s your girl been?” Ana had also confided in you that she had been dating someone but didn’t want to make it public just yet.

“Really good, I have officially have a girlfriend now.”

“Shut up! I’m really happy for you Ana.”

“Thank you, now we just need to get you one.”

Arriving at the club you spotted all the girls in a private section, stopping at the bar for a shot to take the edge off and a drink for yourself and Ana as a thank you. After the initial welcomes, you took your spot on the dance floor, messing around with a few of the girls, letting your hair down and forgetting about the pressures of being a footballer.

That came tumbling down when you spotted the brunette in the corner of the room, her eyes trailed on you as she nursed her drink. Your eyes locked together, neither managing to turn away as you continued to dance with Ingrid and she tried to vaguely listen to what Mapi was saying.

“Are you even listening to me?” Mapi asked, noticing Alexia was barely even focusing on their chat anymore. Following her eyes she was met with you dancing with her girlfriend, your eyes though only meeting the girl next to her. “Wow I didn’t know you two even knew each other.”

“We don’t… not really anyway.”

“But you find her attractive.”

“Of course I do, I mean have you seen the girl.”

“Follow her.” Mapi almost pushed the Ballon d’Or winner out of her seat noticing your retreating figure. “Go.”

“I’m going.”

“Don’t come back without her.”

You didn’t know how long you could take the tension out there, even across the room it felt like she was invading all your senses. Retreating into the bathroom you took a deep breath, giving yourself a silent peptalk in the mirror.

“Hey.” Your thoughts were interrupted as Alexia walked into the bathroom, leaning on the counter next to you. “I thought you’d forgotten who I was.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“I’m sorry about that night, I really wanted to spend the night with you girls, especially you, but then the media duties took over and I had to spend an extra night in Paris.” She admitted, her hand coming up to stroke down your face as you lent into her touch. “I thought I must have read the signals wrong when you didn’t message me.”

“I was waiting for you to message me.” You admitted. “I thought I misread the signals. I guess we both got the situation wrong.”

“Where’s little miss confident gone?”

“What can I say? You make me nervous, even tonight I would usually be the first to go over but you just paralysed me.”

“I saw you arriving with Ana and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by approaching you.”

Before you had the time to reply you could feel footstep approaching and grabbed Alexia’s hand to lock yourselves in a cubicle, a mere few inches between you both that were immediately removed as you backed her into the wall behind her.

“I thought I told you there was nothing going on there.” Every inch of your bodies was touching as you left no room between you both, your lips grazing her ear as you tried to whisper. “She’s not the one I think about in bed, she’s not the one who’s hands I can feel on my back when I’m alone.” You traced your hands up her sides in the cut out of her dress, you could feel both your hearts racing as her leg wrapped around your thigh.  “She doesn’t drive me crazy after one meeting.”

“I’m guessing she doesn’t do this then.”

Before you even had the chance to reply she’d propelled you backwards, your legs instinctively wrapping around her waist as her lips crashed down onto yours. You’d never felt like this just from a kiss before as her tongue battled with your own, one hand holding you up whilst the other knotted itself in your hair. You own hands wrapping around her neck. She definitely had the smoothest lips you’d ever felt as her lips detached from your own only to trail down your neck, sucking on your sweet spot.

“Stop.” You whispered before crashing your lips together once again, not wanting her to leave a mark.

This time when you separated you stayed in close proximity, your forehead resting on her own as she let you get down. “Did you not have anyone to help you today? You seem to be missing something.” From her position she could see your lack of clothing underneath your shirt.

“I should have asked Ana.”

“Say that again.”

“Maybe Ana might not want to help.” Even though you knew that was a complete lie you couldn’t help but tease the other woman as her anger began to show. “Especially if we lose contact again.”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea when I’m the one you’re thinking about.” You should have known she would use that against you. “Let me take you out on a proper date, maybe you can tell me about these dreams you’ve been having.”

“I’d like that.” You admitted. “About the date.”

“Of course.”

Taking one final glance at you, she pecked your lips once more and gave your behind a pat to move out of the cubicle. Only there you were met with Mapi and Ingrid washing their hands at the sink, your cheeks blushing as your eyes locked with their smirks.

“Good night?”

“You have no idea.”

[collegetennisoriginstory]

that G/MC one that got away ask has me imagining something like that with Tobin. Tobin's comments during dinner about going pro and the level dedication required becoming somewhat prophetic when they end up breaking things off because there just wasn't enough of MC to dedicate to tennis and their relationship at the time. In my head it's not a fight, but it is a necessary and painful conversation that ends it, maybe with Tobin recognizing how things are trending and wanting to mutually end it before things started getting nasty at the same time MC's spotlight was getting bigger? They genuinely try to stay friends, but in the immediate aftermath both sides are pretty raw and by the time Tobin feels safe MC suddenly seems so much farther away.

Flash forward some time and MC's settled into the rhythm of a pro career when their coach/trainer abruptly retires or takes some sort of leave, and they find themself in need of a replacement for their next tournament on relatively short notice. Seems like it's going to be tough until they just happen to run into a familiar face - a certain someone who hasn't made a name for themself in the industry quite yet, but one who knows MC's tennis (singles or doubles) better than most and how they tick better than maybe anyone. The results of the new partnership speak for themselves on the court, but what about off of it....

AHHHHH. ❤️ 💔 🔥

The complication of ex-tobin as MC's coach and both their careers / dreams once again hinging on their ability to keep it in their pants/keep it profesh and civil after things fell apart previously is too damn good!!!

Yall have been K I L L I N G me with these post-college 'rekindled romance" scenarios (link to the G one) and I am now convinced that if CT:OS ever gets a sequel, these should absolutely become canon.

The journalist who's made a name for themselves in sports reporting for... REASONS, the currently unknown young coach... I feel like for Rayyan, maybe there could be a breakup that resulted from the tension of always competing against each other, and the media pressure that comes with it, plus Rayyan's obsessive drive to be No. 1 (possibly MC's too?)

Not sure about Sam though. Maybe Sam's the only one you're allowed to stay with in the sequel.

Love love love these, you have made my day anon!

[camellia-thea]

What would Tamerlane's life had been like if Annabelle Lee had gotten to keep sole custody, do you think?

:eyes::eyes::eyes: long post so under a readmore

okay so. i indeed have thoughts about this. so, we know that without the deal point blank, roderick would've been a poet and frederick would've been a dentist (rip). not quite the same scenario as annabel lee keeping custody of course, but a good stepping stone.

another interesting thing i feel about tamerlane is that she is the only one who i think's Issues:tm: would continue without the deal/roderick and madeline/fortunato's influence. she'd still have severe ocd and identity issues and these would still colour her life experiences.

i think the key difference between tamerlane with annabel lee alive/having kept custody is that she wouldn't have lost her ability to see other people as people. it wouldn't have become (something i personally see as) a coping mechanism for fame and riches at a young age, and also a way to protect herself from the mental illness i interpret she has (mentioned above, though that's a discussion for another time). i think that annabel's presence also would've turned that coping mechanism into being a bit of a people-pleaser; she already cares so much about her image and how people see her, i think that there was a coin toss made (one side of the coin being madeline, the other being annabel lee) and it dictated which side she favored.

i actually think freddie would still end up with roderick, because, from what i gather from the conversation in the last episode, roderick asks them to move in with him, and they accept because he's been, essentially love bombing them with money. tammy saying no to this would be really interesting. but, it leads her to being happier in the long run. i don't think she ever stops wondering about what would've happened if she said yes, but i think after a point, i think she stops caring, even as the thought crosses her mind.

i think she probably, at least from my interpretation of her, would've taken a similar route, minus the business degree i assume she has; that is to say, studying nutrition and kinesiology, with a focus on wellness. i think that she'd probably have stepped into being a (less... predatory) life/fitness coach, with a primary focus on matching her client's abilities and needs to try and give them a little control over their health (as always, it's all about control). if we're playing around with tamerlane keeping the heart condition i hc her as having, it only makes the drive to help people more important, as she'd be aware of just how difficult it is for disabled people to find care that actually accounts for their conditions and illnesses. it's also a profession that would help her see people as people, i think, because you have to get to know your clients to do your job well (and she's a perfectionist, she doesn't believe in less than 110%).

the other route i see, which would still play into tamerlane's Issues:tm:, would be a nurse. specifically this would be interesting in comparison to victorine being the daughter of a nurse and going into medicine as well. this would be really interesting to examine if annabel lee died in tamerlane's early-mid twenties. roderick and madeline try to bring her back into the family and she ends up as almost half an usher. freddie trying to convince her to come back -- or maybe he tries to push her away, because she's a threat? i'm not sure -- and victorine absolutely feeling threatened by tamerlane's approach. tamerlane would feel like an imposter, in this situation, with victorine being "her but better" in a way that links the really awful systemic disrespect of nurses against other medical careers. i think those comparisons would push her to cut all contact.

i like to think she would've met bill anyway, and they'd have had a far healthier relationship, just because the touches of honestly we get from tamerlane about how she cares about him is important to me. she'd still be incredibly insecure in said relationship, don't get me wrong, but i think she'd be more ready to work with bill over it. i don't think they'd have kids together, but they'd have a dog (this features in my tamerlane wip), and a nice but small house. tamerlane would value privacy, i think, and so i doubt they'd live in a city. suburbia maybe?

the deal still taking place, verna would make her die in her sleep, quietly, knowing she was loved. her funeral is planned by bill, who doesn't let roderick and madeline sweep in.

i think overall, she'd still be tamerlane; capable of being really cruel when she's feeling defensive, but i think that she'd have the capacity to step back and admit that she was at fault.