#the second set of doodles is an idea i had that if big z and the wol are different sides of the same coin

[herssian]

you know how some strays will adopt people by never leaving them alone

[newsies-geek]

Bowery Boy: Javid Fic Part 1

***

Davey felt his heart beat hard in his chest as he heard his parents' words from the other side of the wall.

It was one AM and Davey should have been asleep, but Les had woke up groggily asking for a cup of water, and as the older brother he had no choice but to oblige with a groan. He'd hesitated however as he heard voices coming from the kitchen across the hall, prompting him to flatten himself against the wall to keep from being noticed.

"We can't afford it anymore, Esther..." Mr.Jacobs sighed, "The house is too big for our wallets being this small."

"But we're already down to two bedrooms, darling, how much smaller can we get." Mrs.Jacobs leaned against the dining room table that her husband sat at with a frown.

Mr.Jacobs shook his head, "The cost, not the size...I'm afraid New York expenses just- aren't what they used to be.."

Davey felt his heart drop at what his father was implying, making him grip the wall behind him tighter.

"What are you saying?" Mrs.Jacobs fretted, voicing her son's thoughts.

"We...well, the country side is practically dirt cheap to afford living...the boys could take their working talents and harvest crops there-"

"We don't know the first thing about crop harvesting, Mayer." Mrs.Jacobs furrowed her brow at her husband, moving to sit in a chair across from him, folding her hands on the table.

"And Davey didn't know anything about selling newspapers either, but that boy said he's a natural born- ah what is it? News....z?"

"Newsie, dear." Mrs.Jacobs corrected politely.

Mr.Jacobs nodded, "Exactly. I'm sure they'll do fine in the country, and it'll give my arm time to heal anyhow.."

'That boy...' Davey felt his heart tighten, 'Jack...' ...and, moving out to the country? What a gimmick, right when the other boy had finally decided to stay, Davey would be leaving.

'If you're fadda' had had a union, he'd still have his job-' Wasn't Davey's job enough?

Clearly not, if they couldn't afford rent...but it wasn't like there was a job that paid more-

"Sarah and I could work a double-shift-" Mrs.Jacobs began.

"I'm not making my family work harder for me than they already are- it just isn't fair." Mr.Jacobs rubbed his temple, "We've got a week until the next rent payment is due...it'll be the last one we pay."

Davey felt his hands go to his face. He couldn't leave New York. Not now. Not after everything was finally going his way- They'd won the strike, he had friends, he had Jack!

Jack...

Davey felt his stomach twist with frustration and longing, hating how the other boy made him feel.

He couldn't just stand idly by and watch this happen.

He had to do something-

But first, he had to go get Les some water.

***

"And I-I really don't intend to be rude- I just thought if you had any extra work you needed, I'd be willing to take it." Davey shrugged his shoulders sheepishly as he looked at Medda.

"Honey, I would love to give you work, but it's already being done- it wouldn't be fair to take hours away from others..." Medda sighed with a frown as she looked at the pleading boy before her, sulking against an old set backstage.

"It's alright, I understand, I-"

"Medda!" A shrill voice came from the wings, causing the woman to turn around with a cocked eyebrow.

"Julia just tripped and twisted her ankle, I think she might have stapled a tendon." The blonde girl in a feathered dress fretted to Medda.

"Oh dear, and you girls go on tonight.." Medda felt her heart drop, "Does she have an understudy?"

The blonde shook her head, "No, she was just there to add a bit of kick to it in the back- y-you said it would be so easy to find her an understudy if needed that we didn't need to assign one." The girl shrugged her shoulders forward guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I-"

"Don't you be apologizing, it's not your fault." Medda  put an arm around the girl, "Is Julia alright?"

"They're takin' her to the hospital right now, I thought I should tell you." She nodded solemnly.

"Well, you can't have the Bowery Trio be a Bowery Duo now can we?"

"I, well yes, but how are we going to find someone to-?"

"I just might have an idea." Medda turned to grin at Davey who looked in confusion before muttering a quiet, "Oh no.."

***

Looking at himself in the mirror of the boys' dressing room, empty from not being used for quite some time, he wasn't sure how he felt.

Dread was one emotion- fear was another- but there was a sort of...appreciation, for how he felt in a dress and tights. It had been hell waxing his arms and legs for this, they still stung, but it gave him an almost charming look. His dress was a lovely lavender color with red and white accents. He had to admit, it felt nice to twirl and have the dress twirl with him.

He had makeup on that hid his face well enough- and a matching fan that also hid the majority of his features.

Medda had been right, the movements were easy to pick up- just some leg kicks that Davey found surprisingly easy...and some sauntering that he'd found embarrassingly difficult.

Regardless, he was being paid far more for than than he already had gotten from spending the day selling papers with Jack before leaving early to 'help with dinner'

A knock came from the door, "Five minutes!" Medda called.

"Th-Thank you five!" Davey called before hurriedly looking over his face to make sure everything looked alright. Medda had done the make up and it looked entirely stunning. It had been difficult figuring out where to put Les while this whole ordeal was going on, but they settled for letting him doodle on some blank canvases back stage for Jack to paint later.

Davey shook his shook and took in a deep breath before nodding, "Seize the day." He whispered.

***

Once he was on stage, Davey felt like a million eyes were on him. His fan was currently in front of his face from where he stood up stage. His hair had been curled at the ends and honestly- you would only think he was a guy if you knew it was him.

Honestly- Davey might not have been far off when he said all eyes were on him- because they really were.

His movements took place primarily from sitting on top of a crate in back, kicking his legs up and earning some whistling from the guys in the audience, making him inwardly groan. Not that he didn't want the attention of guys- just, a particular flirtatious cowboy in particular.

Davey was surprised he was able to kick his leg over his head for the finally, feeling as though it might dislocate, but apparently years of running to school, tripping, and doing the same as a Newsie, left his limbs strong and flexible.

He wasn't complaining.

The boy felt...pride...swell up in his chest as he received a booming amount of applause. He fluttered his fan in front of his face as he curtsied before heading back stage and quickly to the boy's dressing room.

This couldn't be that bad, right?

***

He must have been right- because after three nights of the same act, Davey was eating up the applause by the end of it, growing more confident in his movements and adding an extra sway in his hips. Something about his face being hidden...gave him the courage and strife to be out there and do something that he surprisingly enjoyed. He didn’t enjoy the cat-calling, or men trying to find him after the show and never succeeding- after all, they weren’t looking for Davey, they were looking for Lily. Davey hadn’t picked the name but he liked it well enough- he liked Davey better, and Medda had expressed how openly fine she had been with him using Davey, she wouldn’t stop him but she would warn him of how cruel people could be.

Davey took her word of advice and laid low- for as long as he could.

Which was only a matter of until Friday.

It caught him off guard, when he was walking back stage and into the dressing rooms. The look of abject horror on his face when he saw Les simply doodling on a paper on the floor made David almost have a heart attack right then and there.

Les was just as surprised, gaping at Davey in confusion as the boy quickly slipped into the dressing room and slammed the door shut, storming over to his brother with balled up fists at his sides, “What are you doing in here?” Davey was livid but tried to hide it.

“They was painting back stage so- um- I got moved into here- why are you dressed like that?” Les sat up with a cocked head.

Under his foundation, Davey blushed profoundly, wiping a hand over his face and smearing his make-up in the process, “Why is it your business..?” he murmured tiredly, not meaning to be rude to his brother, but not sure he wanted to explain.

“Well, I just wasn’t sure if you were havin’ a midlife crisis or something and- did you steal that from the girl’s dressing room?” Les gasped before grinning, “Davey!”

“I did not!” Davey snapped as he took a damp cloth to his face, rubbing at the makeup with kept-in anger at the situation.

“Why are you all dressed up then?” Les pressed, sitting on the stool beside Davey that faced a mirror with light-bulbs around it, half of them burned out.

“I was performing if you have to know.” Davey mumbled.

It took a few seconds, and you could see thoughts clicking into place as Les came to a conclusion, “Are you performing as a performer? Like the girls? Like with the he girls?”

“With the girls, yes.” Davey sighed as he finished getting his makeup off.

“Why? I-“ Les paused before gasping, “You’re doing this to be around the girls, aren’t you!” He leapt up onto the stool.

Davey furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to object before shaking his head, “Sure.”

“Oh man, wait until Sarah hears-“

Davey slapped a gentle hand over Les’s mouth with a stern glare, “Nobody hears, got it?”

Les pushed Davey’s hand out of the way, “Why not?”

“Because- this isn’t- something that I’d normally do-“ Davey sighed, getting up to go behind the changing curtains and changing back into normal clothes.

“But you are doing it.” Les pointed out, spinning in his chair.

“Still- just- lets drop it, okay? This stays between me and you.” Davey finished putting his regular clothes back on and stepped back out to the other side of the curtain with a sigh, “Ready?”

Les groaned, “Fiiiine.”

Davey gave an appreciative nod to his brother before they exited, leaving Davey to pray that the other would stay true to his word.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🏐 Guardian; Yuu Nishinoya (Sportember #013)

📑 Table of Contents | ⚾ Challenge Post

Genre: Angst, School, Friendship, Fluff

Word Count: 3,428

Pairing: Overweight Reader x Noya

World: Haikyuu!!

Prompt: Keep Going

Author’s Note: Even though this is number 13 in the set, it was actually the first one I wrote out!

WARNING: This fic contains themes of bullying, body issues, and weight issues.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

You’ve been struggling with your weight all of your life, coming from a family where most of the members were large in size. Growing up, your family mostly feasted on fast food that was really unhealthy and, at the time, you thought you were lucky to have such a relaxed family. When you entered middle school, however, you started to meet people that made fun of you for being overweight. They bullied you, mentally, calling you names and telling you that you had no right to breathe the same oxygen as them. Just a waste of air, they claimed. That was the first time that you felt insecure in your own body.

You shared these concerns with your family, but they just laughed it off, claiming that you were ‘big-boned’ and that’s why you were heavier than the other children. They told you to stop caring what other people thought of you, that you were beautiful no matter your size. The message was nice, but it went much deeper than that. It wasn’t just about what others thought of you because, when you looked in the mirror, you hated what was staring back at you.

Your thighs like Christmas hams, the fat under your arms jiggling like a plate of jello, and your stomach that reminded you of a middle-aged man on a diet of alcohol. You hated the way you looked. You hated the comments and the looks. You hated feeling sluggish and lethargic all the time, but… you didn’t know how be healthy because no one ever taught you. You turned to the internet for answers and found a beginner’s workout video that was highly rated. Every night, you’d wait for your family to sleep before trying to follow along with the video.

The problem? Your body couldn’t handle it.

Jumping jacks? Your fat jiggled painfully, ankles unable to take the weight when you landed.

Push ups? Your arms were far too weak to lift your body for a single one.

Squats? You managed two before your legs started to shake so badly that they couldn’t lift you for a third.

At first, you told yourself that your body just needed time to adjust, but after two and a half weeks passed without any improvement, you started to feel disheartened and, finally, you gave up. How could you motivate yourself to continue when the workout left you feeling so weak and lightheaded?

Years passed by and you found yourself in your first year of high school at Karasuno. The bullying got worse, eventually turning physical, but you never fought back, believing that you deserved the abuse that was being handed to you. Around this time, you got paired up with the orange-haired Hinata that you shared class with on a project. He was one of the few kids who were actually nice to you, who didn’t judge you, so when he asked you to meet him at the gymnasium after school to discuss the project, you agreed without much thought.

As the day dragged on, though, you found yourself growing quite nervous.

The final bell rang and you slowly packed up your bag, nearly jumping when Hinata appeared by your desk with a bright smile. “Ready to go, Y/N-san?”

Your cheeks burned at the attention and you noticed the other students watching the exchange, whispering to each other. It made you feel self-conscious.

“Y/N-san?” The orangette tilted his head, blinking at you curiously.

“R-Right, sorry…” you cleared your throat as you stood, putting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. You clutched it tightly as you followed him to the door where Kageyama was waiting. As the three of you walked down the hall, you tried to hang back so people wouldn’t see you with them and get the wrong idea, but Hinata was determined to walk at your side. You could just hear the rumor mill running wild.

“Ne, have you thought of any ideas for the writing assignment?” He questioned. “I was thinking about writing for volleyball!”

Kageyama scowled at him over his shoulder. “No way! I’m writing about volleyball. Choose something else!”

Hinata puffed out his cheeks. “That’s not fair! You can’t just claim a subject, Kageyama!”

“I just did, idiot!”

“What do you think, Y/N-san?” His brown eyes snapped to you, shining with an intensity you had never seen before.

“Umm… I don’t really know anything about sports…” you mumbled apologetically, turning your gaze to the ground. You expected the pair to laugh at you and comment something like, ‘That’s pretty obvious, just look at you’ but they didn’t do either.

Hinata hummed, crossing his arms across his chest. “Okay. What do you like then?”

“Anime is nice…”

His eyes suddenly sparkled. “Really? Which ones? I’m currently watching Dragonball Z and it’s so cool! Goku is always like bam and then whoosh and boom! You know?”

You giggled at his enthusiasm. “I’m watching it, too, but I haven’t gotten very far yet.”

The rest of the walk to the gym was spent talking about your favorite characters and scenes within the anime. For the first time, you completely forgot about the other students that were staring at you and whispering as if you were a creature in the zoo. You forgot about the insecurities that plagued your mind and, instead, focused on the shared interests between yourself and your classmate. It was honestly so refreshing.

When the three of you approached the two-story changing rooms near the gym, Hinata paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Go on ahead, we’ll be out soon!”

You nodded, offering him a nervous smile before turning and slowly inching toward the open gym doors. The sound of shoes squeaking across the hardwood floor reached your ears and you peaked around the door, curiously. The ball was spiked, falling to the front of the court quite quickly and no one was close enough to get to it before it could land. Your eyes were just barely able to catch sight of the orange blur as it rushed toward the ball, a short boy diving to the ground with no regard for his own safety. His hand was just barely able to squeeze between the ball and the ground, but it bounced off the back of his hand and back into the air, allowing the grey-haired boy to toss it to the brown-haired boy who spiked it to the other half of the court.

Your eyes widened as you watched the short boy pull himself to his feet, high-fiving the others two. ‘He’s so… cool! And pretty cute, too.’ Your lips tugged down, hand gripping the door frame as you forced your eyes away. ‘But he would never like someone like me…’

A hand landed on your shoulder and you jumped, a soft squeak of surprise passing your lips as you whirled around, hand over your racing heart. It was just Hinata, eyes wide and hand suspended in mid-air. Embarrassment rushed over you and your face burned all the way to the tips of your ears as you felt multiple pairs of eyes burning into your back.

“Good job, idiot, you scared them.”

“I-I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry!”

Footsteps quickly approached, followed by the authoritative voice of the team’s captain. “What’s going on here?”

“Hinata scared Y/N,” Kageyama replied simply, pointing to you for emphasis.

“Hinata,” the grey-haired boy scolded him before turning to you with a gentle smile. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, unable to lift your eyes from the ground. “I’m sorry… it was my fault, not his.”

Hinata pouted at you. “I’m sorry, Y/N-san.”

“It’s okay, really!”

“Did you come to watch practice?” Suga inquired, putting his hand on his hip. “Or would you like to apply for assistant manager?”

“No,” Hinata shook his head. “We have a writing project together. Come on, let’s get started!”

You didn’t say anything as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you to the side of the gym where a row of wooden benches were placed. The two of you took a seat, angling your bodies to face each other as you pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, trying to ignore the questioning looks from the rest of the team. It was bad enough that you had embarrassed yourself in front of so many people, but it was worse because you had done so in front of the cute boy, as well.

“Hey, Hinata-san?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t glanced up from his notebook as he drew a caricature of Vegeta, his tongue poking out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated.

You glanced to the side, watching the short boy talking to the brunette haired spiker. “What is his name? Number four.”

He glanced up, following your gaze before returning to his doodle. “That’s our libero, Noya. He’s a second-year!”

“He’s our senpai?” You replied with surprise.

“Yup! And he’s super cool.” Hinata grinned. “You should come to our practice game against Nekoma next week so you can see him in action for yourself!”

‘I don’t know anything about volleyball, but…’ you bit your lip, looking back at Noya only to catch his eye. He smiled at you before returning his attention to the practice game. ‘I really want to see him play.’ “Would that really be okay?”

“Of course! I’m sure everyone would appreciate the support.”

“If you’re sure… I’ll come to the game, then.”

And you did, though most of your time was spent watching Karasuno’s libero who, in your opinion, was absolutely amazing. You wanted his attention, you wanted him to look at you and smile, to find you beautiful. You wanted that more than anything and that want quickly turned to motivation.

Since that game, you started walking to school rather than taking the bus, which meant getting up around four in the morning so you had enough time to get there. You felt exhausted and sweaty by the time you reached the school but, somehow, you felt proud of yourself. You knew that exercising wasn’t enough to lose weight, though. No, you had to change your eating habits, as well, but since most of your family’s meals were frozen or fast food, that was going to be a serious hurdle for you.

You decided to eat only once a day, which was a serious struggle for you because you were constantly craving food. Every time you caught yourself slipping, though, you thought of Noya and found your strength renewed. With this new addition to your life, you stopped being quite as upset about the bullying and they were not happy about that.

You started keeping a journal to keep track of your exercise and food intake, updating it periodically when you suppressed the urge to eat or to talk about how you were currently feeling. Unfortunately for you, your biggest bully, Atsumi, noticed you scribbling away in the orange notebook and she waited for the perfect opportunity to strike. This presented itself one afternoon when the teacher asked for your help carrying a box of paperwork to the office. You were gone no more than five minutes, but it was plenty of time for Atsumi to steal the book from your desk and slip from the room.

When you returned to gather your things, you searched for the journal, positive that you had brought it to school with you, but you had also overslept that morning and had to rush to get ready. ‘I guess I forgot it today,’ you frowned.

“Y/N, let’s go~!” Hinata grinned at you, jogging in place.

You chuckled at the boy’s antics, slipping your bag across your shoulder as you followed him and Kageyama from the room. Honestly, you had grown quite attached to these two boys over the past two months, feeling grateful that they accepted you and treated you like a human being instead of an animal.

When you stepped into the gym, it felt like your heart had been dropped into a bucket of icy water. ‘Why is Atsumi here? She’s… she’s talking to Noya… Does she like him?’ you frowned, heart skipping painfully within your chest.

“Okay, let’s practice!” Hinata bounded up behind you with a cheer, Kageyama at his side. This grabbed Atsumi’s attention, who turned to look at you with a wicked grin upon her lips and, in her hand, was your journal.

Your eyes widened, body shaking because you knew what was about to come. Your mind screamed at your body to run away, but it refused to listen, frozen in place.

“Guys, can I have your attention, please?” Atsumi called out, standing up on the bench so she could see everyone more clearly. “I’d like to read something to you all today. It’s a real comedy.”

Your lips parted, but no sound escaped. ‘No…’

She cleared her throat and opened the journal to one of the last entries. “‘I’m so hungry. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days, but that’s okay. Every time I think of food, I just have to picture Noya-senpai shining on the court.’”

‘Please… please, stop…’ Tears stung at your eyes, hands shaking.

“A confession?!” Tanaka cried out in surprise, looking between Noya and Atsumi.

Something about this situation felt wrong to Nishinoya, but he couldn’t quite understand why.

With her smirk widening, she continued. “‘Ever since I met him, I’ve been trying so~ hard to lose weight, but it doesn’t feel like anything has changed. I just want him to look at me once and call me pretty, but I know he never will. How could someone as perfect as Noya-senpai ever love a fat-slob like me?’”

Your bag slipped from your shoulder, books spilling across the floor. This caught the attention of the gathered boys, but you couldn’t see the expressions they held as you lowered your head, tears streaming down your chubby cheeks. ‘Why… why is she doing this? I don’t understand…’

Noya’s eyes widened in recognition and he rushed toward Atsumi, snatching the book from her hands and looking at the inside cover to find your name, scrawled across the page with a cute little doodle of a cat.

“Noya, what are you doing?” Daichi demanded, but the libero was far too angry to hear his captain.

His eyes flashed with anger as he glared at the girl, grip on the book making his knuckles turn white. “How can you be so cruel?!”

Atsumi simply shrugged, looking at you with a smug expression. “Because that fat pig deserves it.”

Hinata looked back and forth between you and her, confusion flooding him. “I’m confused, what’s happening? Why are you crying?”

Noya held the orange book above his head, not tearing his fierce gaze away from the girl. “This is Y/N’s journal.”

“What?!” Hinata’s wide eyes landed on your shaking form before narrowing at the girl. “What has Y/N ever done to you?!”

Atsumi scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Oh, please. Save the theatrics, will you? The pig has been suffering since their first day here and none of you noticed or bothered to care. Don’t start now, they aren’t worth the trouble.”

Realization sunk in as each member recalled a strange or questionable incident with you that you had waved off, telling them not to worry. Hinata was feeling the most guilty because he saw you every single day, but he hadn’t recognized the signs that you were suffering so much. He took a step toward you, the movement snapping you out of your frozen state. You suddenly bolted from the room, ignoring the cries of your name as Tanaka, Noya, Kageyama, and Hinata took off after you.

Daichi narrowed his eyes at Atsumi, his aura darkening. “You need to leave. You’re no longer welcome in this gym.”

She scoffed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “You should be thankful that I got rid of your pig problem for you.” And then she left the gym.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

You had settled yourself behind the equipment shed that belonged to the baseball team, the field located on the opposite end of the school grounds. Your knees were pulled up as far as your stomach would allow, head leaning back against the shed. The sun had already set, darkness settling over the land as the full moon slowly started its ascent into the sky. The baseball team had long since cleared out, as most of the school had, but you didn’t dare move for fear of someone seeing you. You were sure that the volleyball team had already given up and gone home, but you were too afraid to take the risk of running into them.

Tears slid down your cheeks, ice cold in the chill of the nightly breeze. Your uniform did little to keep you warm, but that was irrelevant to you. You would give anything for the ground to just open up and swallow you whole, but life didn’t work that way. How the hell were you supposed to face the team now? And Hinata, your classmate?

‘Atsumi is super persuasive, I’m sure they agree with what she said…’ The thought made you cry harder, body shaking with sobs. You were so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you didn’t hear the frantic footsteps approaching, nor did you notice it when someone knelt in front of you. A warm hand rested on your shoulder and your body tensed up, but you kept your eyes screwed tightly shut, willing the person away with your mind.

“Y/N,” Noya called softly, his fingers rubbing soft circled into your shoulder. “Please look at me.”

‘I can’t…’ you shook your head, choking back a sob. ‘Please, just go away…’

He frowned, shifting so he could sit beside you, shoulder brushing against your own. “I’m so sorry. None of us realized you were being bullied.”

‘It’s not your fault!’ you wanted to tell him, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate with you.

Noya rubbed his finger across the cover of the journal where you had drawn Hinata as Goku and Kageyama as Vegeta. He wanted so desperately to demand why you hadn’t confided in your friends, but he felt like that would only make you feel worse and he didn’t want that. But then, what the hell was he supposed to say? He had never been in a situation like this before.

“Do you want to know a secret?” He wondered, angling his body so he could face you. You tried to hide your face from him, but he gently took your hands, pulling them to his lap. “The truth is… you had my attention from the first time you stepped into the gym. I thought you were so adorable how embarrassed you got after Hinata scared you.” He chuckled, threading his fingers through your own.

Your sobs had calmed down to soft hiccups, but you still refused to look at him.

“I noticed your efforts, too,” he continued. “I saw that you started walking to school and you probably feel like it’s not helping but it is. I’m really proud of you, Y/N!”

Your heart skipped a beat, eyes growing wide as they snapped to meet his own. There were no traces of deceit within his warm brown eyes.

“There you are,” he smiled, bringing his hand up to brush away a stray tear as it ran down your cheek. “You can’t give up. You have to keep going until you reach your goal! But you’re not alone anymore, Y/N. Karasuno’s volleyball team is cheering you on.” A fresh round of tears filled your eyes and he frowned, wiping them away with his thumb. “No more tears, okay?”

You found yourself leaning in to his warm touch as he stroked your cheek. “I-I’ll try my b-best…”

He nodded, feeling his heart flutter within his chest. “You really are beautiful, Y/N. Inside and out.”

Your cheeks burned as he leaned his face closer to yours. “N-Noya-senpai…”

“Call me Yuu,” he whispered softly, his breath tickling your lips.

“Yuu…”

Hearing his name upon your lips drove him crazy and he wasted no time claiming your lips. With his heart upon his sleeve, he used his mouth to convey how he truly felt about you. In such a short amount of time, you had become the center of his world and vice versa. He didn’t care about the size of your body, but he would support you if you decided you wanted to lose weight.

Nishinoya Yuu was already Karasuno’s guardian, but now he wanted to be yours, as well.

━━━━━━༻🎾_🏀_🏐༺━━━━━━

[ffamranxii]

I draw a manga/write a light novel series based on that manga, which is essentially an amalgamation of my favorite series and giving some of my favorite characters, who I feel were shafted in their source material, a better ending. That series is called C’est la Vie 5, because it originally featured five fandoms that I LOVED enough to have created an original character for.

Now, like many people, I’ve created a fuckton of OCs for a fuckton of series. However, unlike, say, Dragonball Z and Pokemon (RIP to Son Mei and Cissy the Eevee breeder), I still use these characters. I am still active in these fandoms. Some of these characters are nearly as old as I am. Some have gone through so many iterations that they’re nearly unrecognizable from their original forms (looking at you, Haruhi, Suzuka, and Kinoko). But they have ALWAYS been there.

C5 the way it is now started as a fun little project in college to help me memorize my Japanese vocabularly. It was a series of one shot or 4koma doodles in the margins of my notebooks, featuring PGSM+Hina. Then the doodles got mutated. I replaced Makoto with an original character named Sun Hwa, who then was replaced with Ayumi Yamada from Honey and Clover. I added in Hagumi Hanamoto from H&C too. Ami was renamed Moeco, and her appearance changed. I ended up splitting Ami in two, because I loved her Dark Mercury arc so much, and ended up with Moeco and Akumi. I added Mio Kuroki but called her Arisa Kuroki, because my Usagi at the time was called Mio. I added Mikasa from Attack on Titan. Misa Amane (named Erika after her actress in the live action). And it spiraled from there. C5 went through a TON of iterations as well over the past ten years. There was a character called Haruhi, but she was from the Haruhi Suzumiya series.

Now it’s pretty ironed out. The cast is so big I’ve split the series into a set of volumes into one big volume, so it doesn’t become Naruto. Each volume has a set of plots, two of which are contained within that volume. It’s pretty easy and I like it.

HINA is a mishmash of three fandoms (two if you count PGSM and Sailor Moon as one fandom). I fell in love with Boys Over Flowers (the Korean version) after discovering the live action Sailor Moon, and had a complete fit the entire time that Jandi chose Junpyo. (WHY, Jandi. WHY. Jihoo was BETTER for you. BETTER!) I had a Korean friend in my Japanese class, and it was at this period that my Makoto doodle was replaced with Sun Hwa (another Korean) and that Hina Kusaka (who is exclusive to PGSM, and whose name I stole for my OC) became Hina Ku (after the actress who played Jandi, not Goo Junpyo). Hina and Sun Hwa had small side conversations in Korean that my friend taught me, while the group as a whole reinforced my Japanese lessons. C5 has plenty of Boys Over Flowers characters (a mix of the Korean, 2019 Chinese, and Japanese versions), but I never made an OC for the series. Hina filled both roles. In PGSM and Sailor Moon I kept her name as Kusaka, but in C5 it’s Ku, and she is a zainichi - Korean-descended. Hina also plays a different role depending on which series I’m using her in. In PGSM, I used her as Sailor Sun. Sailor Sun has been a character I’ve had since I was five years old. She’s changed style and looks considerably over the years, but she’s always been there. In every other iteration of Sailor Moon, I prefer the theory that Naru and Unazuki are Sailors Earth and Sun, and Hina is one of Usagi’s many friends. In the pre-C5 era, she, Usagi, and Erika were part of the 3 Bakas, for their bad grades. 

AKIHO is my newest OC and holy shiiiiit I have cleaved to the Persona series hardcore. Rather than create a new OC for each entry in the series (though I may change my mind when Person 6 comes out), Akiho’s look, style, and role in the story changes (I reconcile this to be something akin to Clara Oswald in Doctor Who). In P5, which she was created for, she’s a Phantom Thief. The idea came to me when I learned there has never been a playable character of the Temperance arcana, Hifumi was supposed to be a PT, and the general consensus that Mishima and Shiho should have been PTs. Akiho has been through several iterations herself but her general look is based on Tae Takemi from @scruffyturtles ‘s Adult Confidant AU. Her personality seems very calm and serene, but she is a secret metal head and a huge fan of Eikichi Mishina’s band Gas Chamber. Her PT mask is based off a butterfly. Her role in C5 is a shrine maiden, where she gets along with Rei (Sailor Moon), is the sister of Akira Kurusu (who is a separate person from Ren Amamiya), and the daughter of a pair of mobsters.

KINOKO is my second oldest OC, having been around since I was twelve. Her original name was Cherry (like every other Tokyo Mew Mew OC) and her original animal is lost to the sands of time. Luckily, my favorite animal is a red data animal, so she can be fused with that now! Kinoko has been through so many iterations it isn’t funny. In the TMM world, her hair is an auburn, a dark brown with red undertones, mimicking how some mushrooms (where her name comes from) appear. (It’s a callback to her original name). Her Mew outfit has also changed considerably and I still haven’t settled on it completely. The Mew Mews are not a unit in C5. Zakuro is a model with Ann and dating Minto, Ringo (LOVE Ringo) is a middle schooler who hangs out at an arcade and is best friends with Bu-Ling, Ichigo is a waitress with Berii, Retasu works with Ryou. And Kinoko works at a karaoke bar, chasing troublemakers like Bu-Ling out. She also interacts with the new Au Lait boys.

SUZUKA is also an old OC, her name having originally been Meiling. She’s from Fushigi Yuugi, which I was obsessed with as a child. She’s nearly as old as Kinoko - I was introduced to the series at around the same time. Suzuka’s original role as Meiling was Miaka’s attendant and general Mary Sue, and she was one of my first attempts at exploring fanfiction (along with Kagami the cat demon and Teiten the Thunder Sister from Inuyashs, RIP), because I couldn’t decide which of the original Suzaku warriors I loved most. Everyone had such a wonderfully tragic, lovely backstory, and I needed to give them all blankets and hugs, and Miaka was just a dumbass, okay? (I think I settled on Tasuki. Love me some Tasuki.) Anyway. Suzuka eventually morphed into the Priestess of Kouryuu once I learned that Fushigi Yuugi was based on real Chinese legends, and one legend sometimes included Koryuu, the Yellow Dragon of the Center. (Fun fact: There’s a video game that explores this option, but in it, Kouryuu, is treated as a false god.) In my OC world, Kouryuu is the Great Unifier, only able to be summoned once the first four priestesses have summoned Suzaku, Seiryuu, Byakko, and Genbu, and it is he that will stop the war that threatens the four countries of the Book of the Universe of the Four Gods. In C5, Suzuka works at a bookstore owned by Hifumi Togo that specializes in rare books.

HARUHI is the last old OC, but she’s also new? Haruhi was, for the longest time, existant in a stage of limbo. Fruits Basket was introduced to me as a teenager, when I was about thirteen or fourteen, and I didn’t quiiiite embrace the message, behind it. I couldn’t get past the art style (I was very picky about what I visually consumed back then), I couldn’t get into the anime for the same reason, and I couldn’t quite get past the whole “it’s called Fruits Basket wtf and also they turn into animals? And it’s not a magical girl anime? What in the actual fuck?” But like many things I of course loved the characters, I adored my baby Kyo, and I of course made an OC specifically for him, because I back then did not ship Kyoru (sacriligious, I know). I don’t even remember what Haruhi’s original name was. I just decided that she was a Sohma and the rooster, because the curse of the original rooster was broken, and broke a long time ago, so it was entirely possible for Kyo to have a love interest who was a Sohma and the rooster who was around his age (in my teenage mind). That old Sohma OC, is of course, RIP. I can’t even. And recently, I discovered Fruits Basket Another, and I somewhat resurrected that OC in the form of Haruhi, but as the child of the OG cast. Sawa needs more friends, more protectors, and there’s no tsundere besides Hajime. It always bothered me that Kagura never got any canon love interest or story wrap up after she let go of Kyo, and then in Another she doesn’t have children. :( I love Kagura, so Haruhi is hers! I’m also sad that no one in Another dresses in kimonos when so many in Furuba did (Ritsu, Akito, Shigure, Kazuma, Kunimitsu), so Haruhi dresses in them when she isn’t in school. 

KEIKO is special. Not only is she the newest, but she is also the only character exclusive to C5. While the other characters in C5 are based on characters from other fandoms and have their personalities and such shaped by the new series, Keiko is entirely unique. Her name is a combination of the two things that birthed the series: Sailor Moon and Persona 5. Keiko is for Keiko Kitagawa, the actress who played Sailor Mars in PGSM; and Makigami is for Kazuya Makigami, a major character in Persona 5 the Daybreakers. Kazuya is also Keiko’s brother in C5 and he is... not a great person lol. Neither is Keiko. Her appearance is based on how I wear my hair irl and the clothing of Jim Hawking from Outlaw Star, my favorite anime of all time. (I sadly never made an OC for that series. I tried but I am not good at space opera.)

None of the OCs ever cross paths in C5. It would create a temporal paradox and probably result in one of them fainting or dying lol. Since they’re all essentially the same person. Fun fact: I, Ffamran (known in-universe as Bideru the author) also occasionally make cameos, and I also cannot cross paths with the OCs. Luckily Tokyo, where C5 is set, is a very big place. 

If you stuck with me through this very long post about OCs, thank you! I just really wanted to go off about them since I’ve been in a writing mood and I’m on volume 2 of C’est la Vie 5 now. 

[brianc521]

Team Manager

** Essentially this is a whole series into one, please enjoy and tell me what you thought and if you want more like it **

Growing up in the stands, living off ball park hot dogs and soft pretzels. Playing in the bull pen when it wasn’t in use during practice. Having your own pair of cleats and a helmet so you can pretend to be a third base coach. Being a ball girl at 13. Knowing the in and outs of the game. Meeting player after player, coach after coach. It’s been your whole life.

Being the head coaches daughter for the Toronto Blue Jays Baseball team meant you were born and bread a baller.

That’s why you grew up on peanuts and cracker jacks, 7th inning stretches and many homeruns.

You loved it, lived to watch the game. Kicked and screamed when it was time to leave the stadium.

When you were 11 you drew up sketches and had a whole speech as to how you could live and survive in the stadium, that way you never had to leave….. Yeah it didn’t go over well with the parents, which is why you slammed the door to your bedroom that night, vowing that you’d hate them for forever.

Forever lasted until the next morning when your Dad knocked on your door, announcing he was leaving for the stadium in 5 minutes and if you weren’t in the car then you weren’t going.

And you can bet your ass that you were in the car.

Now at 18, being team manager was just what you wanted. And when your Dad and the other coaches asked you if you wanted to be you didn’t even wait half a second before you answered ‘Yes! Oh my god yes!’

It was all you ever wanted; to be apart of the game.

This was your second year at the job. They welcomed your focus, and smarts of the game. Keeping stats that they didn’t even think of keeping, knowing every player front to back, A to Z. You could be counted on to be a trusted opinion when you were needed. You dedicated your life to the job, and you didn’t want to live life any other way.

But when a new rookie pitcher walked into the compound your life changed. You were suddenly distracted by the cute curly haired 19 year old from Pickering Ontario.

He was tall, and thick. Toned, but slim. And man oh man did baseball pants fit him well. Every day you were thanking the gods above for inventing baseball pants, that and tight black under armor shirts. Ones that let you see every defined muscle he had. Which was all of them.

But Shawn, the new rookie, he was the same way.

Shawn grew up playing baseball. He loved the game more than he’d loved anything else in his life. It was just his thing, and growing up everyone knew that Shawn was ‘that’ kid. The one who was gonna make it big with his sport. And he was determined to make his dreams of playing in the big leagues come true.

But the day he walked into the stadium, cleats laced up, long legs taking him to the pitcher's mound where the group of coaches were standing, along with you, he’s whole life changed.

He’d never seen a female team manager.

But most importantly he’d never seen anyone like you.

From the way your hair fell around your face, trapped under a backwards ball cap. Your loose team logo shirt and short jean shorts with your white converse through his whole mind out of whack

“Shawn, this is my daughter and team manager Y/n.” Your Dad introduced.

His eyes went wide when he said daughter, because now you were this forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to have, but oh my god did he want it.

“Nice to meet you Shawn,” You sent him a small smile, waving a bit.

“Back at you.” He nodded, clearing his throat.

“Y/n’s gonna get you all set up, uniform and all that jazz. She’s also gonna watch you practice, take down info on your game. She’s gonna help figure out where you can be an asset.”

He looked at you as he was spoke to, eyes locked with yours as you both seemed to not be able to look away. The idea of you being around all the time was exciting, and he hated to admit that he was now nervous.

“Call us over when you’re warmed up and we’ll get you started.” Your Dad nodded, patting Shawn’s shoulder and walking away with the rest of the group, leaving the both of you standing on the mound, staring into the others eyes.

**

About a month into practices Shawn was getting better, and bigger. His workouts were working in your favor and it was making it harder to concentrate.

“Hey Kid,” Your Dad said taking a seat next to you behind home plate.

Shawn was on the mound, throwing pitch after pitch into the catcher's glove.

“How’s he doing?” He bumped his shoulder with yours.

You looked down at your clipboard with the little notes you had been making.

“Think that if he didn’t bend over as much he’d get a little more speed on the ball, and you can tell when he’s about to throw a changeup because he doesn’t hide it will behind his glove.”

Your Dad chuckles, scratching at his stubbled chin, watching Shawn wind up and throw.

89 mph

His arms were crossed, nodding, impressed.

“Really think he could bump it up more?” Your Dad asked.

“Yeah, he’s a bit off balanced when he finishes. If he stood up just a bit more he’d be steady, letting him use his full potential.”

Your Dad huffs, nodding again. He looks over patting your knee, “You tell him then.”

“What? No!” You whip around to look at him.

Your Dad laughs, because you all know what happened the last time you tried to give him a pointer.

His shoe was untied and you went to point it out but he looked at you with wide scary eyes, hissing at you to shut it.

Mainly, he was worried that if looked like he relied on you to tell him things that it would make him seem like he wasn’t the player your Dad wanted him to be.

So you shut your mouth, and then proceeded to laugh when he rounded two, cleat getting caught in the loose lace, eating shit. He was tagged out in the scrimmage because of it and when he returned to the dugout where you were seated he glared at you as he threw his helmet in the designated shelf.

“Tried to tell you,” You whisper as he walked past, making his glare burn at you.

“You have the idea, you tell him.”

“He doesn’t like me, remember.”

Shawn was talking to the catcher now, standing at home plate. But you’re busy talking to your Dad, looking over, not realizing that he can now hear every word you were saying.

“I’m sure he does.” Your Dad rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, that’s why I get the silent treatment and long glares from the mound.”

“Why wouldn’t he like you?” Your Dad asks, eyes flicking up to see that Shawn’s staring intently at you over the catchers shoulder.

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “Probably because I’m a girl in the dugout.”

Shawn scoffs silently.

“I doubt that’s it.”

“Well what else would explain it? I mean I was just trying to tell the boy his shoe was untied and you would think that I told him to go fuck himself. He goes out of his way to greet everyone else but me when he arrives and he asks how everyone’s day is going but mine.”

Your Dad doesn’t say anything, trying to decipher the tone of your voice. Which was hurt, you were hurt by Shawn’s actions towards you.

“He’s not my biggest fan, so why would you think it would be a good idea for me to try and help his pitching. If I can’t tell him about his shoe how in the hell can I tell him about his job?”

Your Dad grins, looking back to Shawn whose eyes are wide, cheeks flushed red.

“I’m telling you to try, if you think it would help then the least you can do is try. And he if gives you shit then give it back, we know that if any one person in this stadium we’re to give him shit you’d dish it the best.”

You smirk at that, because that was true.

Your Dad stands, walking away after give you a side hug. You shake your head, looking back down at your notes, playing with the doodled corner of the paper.

“Pst.”

You look up, eyes going wide when you find Shawn standing in front of you. Fingers curled into the net that is up to protect the crowd during games. Looking around you notice that no one else is on the field anymore.

“You have pointers?” He asks softly, deep voice like music in your ears.

Gulping you nod, clutching your clipboard tightly.

“Can I hear them?” He asks.

“Do you want to?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you the other week about my shoe. I’ve learned now that if you have something to say that I should probably listen because it’s in my best interest. So if you have pointers on my game I’d love to hear them, because I need the help.”

You look into his eyes and try to read him. He’s sad, insecure and you feel your heart hurt for him.

“Give me a minute.” You stand, walking out of the stands, racing to the dugout and meeting him on the field.

“That was fast.” He chuckles.

“I know all the shortcuts.” You smirk.

“You’ll have to show me.” He whispers, watching you walk closer.

His heart rate picks up, and he shoves his left hand into his mitt to hide the fact that it’s shaking a bit.

“Okay, um well first, you’re off balance.”

He gives you a quizzical look, and you sigh.

He was nervous because you were finally within arms reach, but you were nervous because you didn’t know how he was going to treat you, and right now it was what you worried it would be.

You walk over to home plate, pulling the net over, pointing at it.

“Pitch.” You say picking up the baseball at your feet and flawlessly throwing it to him, creating a snap when he catches it.

He looks at you with wide eyes for a second, why was you throwing him a baseball a turn on?

He clears his throat, turning and setting himself.

“Stop!” You demand, walking over and kicking at his toe. “Keep this straight.”

He changes his stance and looks at you to see if he’s allowed to continue. You nod, and he continues his wind up, throwing the ball into the net.

“Don’t move.” You say while he’s still in his landing position.

You move in front of him, his eyes following you as you observe his stance.

“You are too bent forward, if you,” You step forward, using your index finger to push his shoulder a bit. Making him stand taller. “If you finished,” Still pushing, “Here! It will allow you to be able to end steady that way you can use more leg power to get more speed.”

He stares at you, shallow breaths leaving his lips as your hand is still on his shoulder.

“Try it like that.” You say walking away, swinging your hips a bit more because you know he’s staring. You grab the ball, throwing it back to him, prompting him to start with your new pointers.

“Should I trust you? I mean I’ve done years of pitching practice with many famous coaches.”

“Right now you are averaging 88 miles per hour. I want to get you up to 90. I think with this it will get you there, but if it doesn’t work than forget I said anything and never speak to me again.” You shrug.

His heart twinges when you said that, he really tainted your opinion on him with that one off day.

“I’d still speak to you.” He mumbles.

He purses his lips, setting his right foot the way you told him to, and then winding up, ending in the same way you told him to, sending the ball flying into the net.

You clap, squealing quietly as you rush over to see the speed.

“Well?” He asks, hands on his hips.

You laugh as you look at him, “91.”

“No fucking way.” He says jogging over and looking at it with you. “No, fucking, way.”

The proof is in front of him and the smug smirk on your lips is doing more to him than you know.

“Wanna see if I can get to 95?” He asks, a glint in his eye.

“I know you can,” You say softly, and for some reason it feels nice to tell him. You like giving him the confidence he needs, almost like a girlfriend would.

“If you know, then it has to be true,” He says, hand brushing against yours as he goes to pick up the baseball.  

He goes back to the mound, setting.

“Wait,” You say softly.

He looks at you, face blank.

“If you would just relax a little.” You giggled, walking behind him.

Your hands reach up to land on his tense shoulders, and he inhales when your small hands start massaging them.

“Feels nice,” He mumbles.

“Then relax,” You sigh, and you can feel him relax under your touch, melting into you.

“Now what?” He says was bated breath.

“Now throw.” You move away from him.

He wants to whimper at the loss of contact with you.

But he rolls his shoulders, setting, staying relaxed, winding up, throwing, but ending the way you showed him too.

You rush over to the speedometer and gasp.

“What?” He asks, watching you intently. “What is it?” He asks.

“99.”

“No way.” He shakes his head. “Guess you were right.”

**

You’re sitting in left field, laptop placed on your lap as you type the stats away into a excel doc.

“Hey,” Shawn says taking a seat next to you.

“Oh hey,” You look over at him, offering him a small smile.

He leans over to look at your screen.

“You really keep track of how many pitches it take me to hit 90?” He says staring at the screen.

“Yeah, I keep track of a lot.”

He hums, nodding and reading your screen.

“Can I help you with something?” You ask sweetly.

“Was gonna see when you were gonna break for lunch.” He says softly, watching your Dad walk off the field and into the dugout.

“Um, usually I go for lunch when everyone else does.”

“Well everyone else is,” He says motioning to the now empty field.

“Oh,” You giggle. “Then I guess now, why what’s up?”

He laughs, hanging his head. “I’m bad at this aren’t I?”

“Well I guess it depends on what you’re trying to do?”

“Ask you on a date?” He says biting his lip.

“Oh.” You perk up.

A smile crosses your lips, making Shawn breathe a little easier.

“Well my Dad usually goes out for lunch.”

“Then we’ll stay in.” He says looking around. “I can run across the street and get sandwiches from the food cart, and we can picnic in left field.” He smiles.

A picnic in left field, you love that idea.

“Sounds perfect.” You smile.

“Okay, I’ll be back in 10.” He’s feeling brave so he leans over and kisses your cheek.

Shawn’s been affectionate since you helped him out that night. He had walked you to your car, wished you a nice night, leaving a searing kiss to your cheek.

The next day he was chipper, smiled and walked in with you. Offering to grab your bag for you, to which you let him.

And it’s been like that since.

He meets you by your car when you pull in, takes your bag, walking you to the offices before he parts for the locker room. Once on the field he smiles, and waves, and stares.

But this was a first, asking you on a date was a first.

And you know you shouldn’t, because you’re the manager and he’s a player, but you can’t help it. He shares the same love for the game you do, he gets it, and he gets you.

He seems interested in you, and not just for your looks, but for your brain and charisma.

You get up, rushing your laptop and paperwork to the dugout, leaving it on the bench.

You look around in the back storage room, finding an old ratty blanket with the teams logo on it.

You’re sitting on it when Shawn returns.

“You found a blanket!” He smiles, dropping next to you, handing you a wrapped sandwich. “Ham and cheese on white with mayo, no tomatoes.” He grins.

You stare at him in shock, “You know my order?”

“You only order the same thing every time.”

You blush now, biting your lip as you look at his blushing cheeks.

“Tell me something I don't know about you.” He says taking a bite of his sandwich.

“I wanted to live here when I was younger.”

“Oh?” He says with a mouthful, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I had a powerpoint, spreadsheets, the whole nine yards to convince my parents that I would never have to step foot outside of the stadium again.”

“And how were you going to do that?” He laughs.

“I was gonna use one of the offices as a bedroom, the stands were a great source of food, bathrooms provided, locker rooms for shower, and if I ran out of clothes I could borrow from the merch store.”

“Sounds like you had it all planned, but considering I haven’t seen your room around here I’m gonna say it didn’t work out?”

“No, and I was so upset.” You giggle at yourself. “Told my parents I’d hate them for forever,”

“How long did forever last?” He asked with a smirk.

“Till the next morning when my dad said he was going to the field and I could come.”

Shawn laughs, throwing his head back. He leans back on his hands, arms extended, and his fingers brush against yours.

You look down, then back at his face.

“What about you? Tell me something.” You say inching your fingers closer.

“I started with hockey.”

“Canada boy played hockey, shocker there.”

“Hey, it’s what everyone does. I was convinced that I was gonna be a pro.”

“Yeah? And how did that work out?”

“The closest I get to the ice is in my gatorade cup from the dugout.” He laughs. Making you laugh as well. “No yeah, I didn’t even know how to skate when I started. I mean you learn quick like that, but I just wasn’t, I don’t know enough?”

“Bet you were better than you think,” You say with a small smile.

“Bet you’re putting too much faith in me.” He chuckles.

“Why do you do that?” You ask making him look over at you.

“Do what?”

“Always tear yourself down? You are a damn good player, you’re averaging 89 miles per hour right now and the season hasn’t even started yet. That’s amazing for a rookie. Yet you ask me if I think you are falling behind and what else you can do to get better.”

“I guess I just am a little insecure about it. There’s a lot pressure on me right now and I don’t want to let anyone down.”

“But if you push yourself too hard you are gonna burn out and let yourself down.”

He just stares at you, smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re good with words, did you know that?” He asks.

“I’ve heard that a time or two.” You shrug.

“I wanna do something,” He says softly, leaning closer. “Stop me if you’re uncomfortable.”

You nod, watching him get closer. He’s leaning in, eyes locked on your lips, his parting. You lean in too, feeling his breath on your lips. He hesitates for a second, but when you don’t pull back he closes the gap between you.

His lips move against yours and you’re in heaven. You didn’t know kissing could feel this good, his lips fit perfectly to yours. They move together in a sync, and his hand is reaching up to cup the side of your face.

You pull away, looking down and giggling a little bit.

“How was that?” He asks softly, your eyes flicking up to look into his eyes.

“That was good.” You giggle nervously.

He’s about to say something when you hear the sound of voices from the other side of the fence.

“That’s my dad.” You panic.

“Fuck,” Shawn says looking up at the big clock in the stadium. “He’s back earlier than I expected.”

“Had other plans?” You ask.

“Maybe I wanted a few more kisses, is that a problem?”

You’re packing up your lunch, grabbing the blanket and rushing with Shawn back to the dugout.

You can hear your Dad getting closer and you toss the blanket in the storage room, grabbing your paper work as Shawn fiddles with his glove.

“Oh hey,” Your Dad says walking up to you both. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you join us for lunch Y/n?”

“I had a little extra work I needed to catch up on, so I ate here.”

“Oh okay,” He kisses the top of your head and turns to Shawn.

They are talking about signs and new pitches.

Shawn’s eyes flick to yours, smirking as he watches you bite your lip.

Your Dad moves to the field and you step closer to Shawn, before he can move to the field you curl your fingers around his belt loop, pulling him back.

“Wait for me after we’re done. You’ll get your kisses.”

He turns, watching you walk away.

**

It’s opening day, the first home game.

Shawn’s nervous, your Dad’s nervous, you’re nervous.

Since that day you and Shawn had been secretly seeing each other.

As it wasn’t exclusive, you both made it very apparent that you weren’t seeing anyone else.

You button up your jersey, 00, on your back, jean shorts on with your signature white converse that now have Shawn’s sloppy heart drawn on them.

You made him watch a movie with you, That Last Song, the other night and yesterday at lunch he stole your sharpie to draw a heart on your shoe.

You smile at the heart, holding your clipboard to your chest as you make your way to the dugout. Before you can get that far a hand reaches out of the storage room and grabs you, pulling you inside.

“It’s me, don’t scream. It’s just me.” He says before you can react.

You turn and look at him, smirking at his attire, admiring his ass a bit.

“Hey there,” You giggle.

“Hi,” He breathes out.

“You okay?”

“I’m freaking out.”

“Why?”

“Joey got hurt in warm ups today.” He blurts, tugging at his unruly curls.

“Oh my god is he okay?” You ask, eyes going wide.

“He’s fine, but now I’m starting.” He covers his face.

“I should check on Joey, why wasn’t I told? Where did he-”

“Hey,” He says making you look at him. “I’m your boyfriend here, and I’m freaking the fuck out. What the hell do I do? Help me!” He whines.

You smile, blushing at the work ‘boyfriend’ because he’s never said that before.

“You’re my boyfriend?”

“Yes, and your boyfriend is about to pass out.”

“Okay,” You say nodding, holding onto his wrists since his hands are holding your face.

“Help me.”

“Why are you freaking out? You’re okay. You are amazing, you know what you’re doing.”

“That helps.” He nods, eyes shut.

“You are gonna strike em out, and kick their ass. They are never gonna wanna face Shawn fucking Mendes again.”

“Yeah,” He sighs.

“And,” You raise up on your toes, lips brushing against his ear. “Boys who start,” You pause, nibbling on his ear a bit, “Get extra special treatment.”

His eyes go wide, as he stares at you.

You drop back to your height, smirking up at him. “But boys who pass out, they just get to sleep.” You shrug.

“That’s evil.” He smiles, pulling you closer and kissing you feverishly.

“Where’s Mendes? Is he puking? He looked like he was gonna puke when I told him, and find Y/n too. I want her to help me rearrange everything.” Your Dad yelling makes you both pull away, pushing the the other away.

“Fuck!” You hiss, looking at Shawn.

“Go, I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Okay, and Babe.” You look at him, his eyes locking on yours. “You’re gonna be great, because I know so.”

“And if you know, then it has to be true.”

“That’s right.” You grin, giving him one more peck. “Go kill it Baby.”

**

The first mistake your Dad made today was taking Shawn off the mound.

Shawn was pitching amazingly, he could honestly say that he had never pitched that well before, and he likes to think that it was because his lucky charm was watching from the dugout.

With her 00 jersey tucked into the front of her short blue jean shorts, her tan legs glowing in the sun, and his breathing picked up every time he looked over for a sign, eyes flicking to her.

Her, being you.

When your Dad took him off the mound he claimed it was because he didn’t want Shawn to tire out, or to hurt himself. But the second he took him out of the game and the next pitcher came in to take over for the last 4 innings the whole game went to shit.

Shawn was a new pitcher no one had ever seen, with his new coaching he was unhittable, and had your Dad kept him in he might have pitched a no hitter because the score was 4-0, Toronto leading.

But the the first pitch the new guy threw was a homerun and so were 5 more after that.

The game ended and was, 7-4, Yankees.

The team was sad, gloomy, pissed. They lost the first game of the season, the first home game.

Shawn was annoyed, he just couldn’t figure out what he had done wrong to get taken out of the game. His arm felt great, he was giving all the pitches he was told to, it just didn’t make sense.

“Hey,” You whisper before he steps into the locker room.

He looks over to see you, your smile falls from your face when you see his sad eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You want to reach up and comb through his curls, kiss his pout away.

“We lost, were you watching?” He spits.

You look at him with wide eyes, looking down at your feet, swallowing.

“Sorry, nevermind.” You whisper, taking a step away from him, rolling your eyes a bit.

“No,” He reaches out, clutching your fingers. “Stop, come back.”

“It’s okay, you don’t want to talk. I get it.”

“No I do,” He looks around, everyone is now in their offices or the locker room, and it’s only the two of you in the dugout. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

You look up at him, and he dips his head a bit.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little worked up. I’m disappointed.”

“What? Why?” You ask stepping closer, his hand drops yours but lands on your waist, pulling you into him.

“I was taken out, I must have done something wrong.” He shrugs.

“No,” You shake your head. “No you played great, he just didn’t want to show you off to much. You’re our secret weapon.” You grin.

He stares into your eyes, “You’re sure? He’s not mad at me?”

“No, Baby he’s not mad.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No?” You stare at him confused. “Should I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, I was just an ass.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay, I should have known better. Taking a loss is never easy.”

“You’re making it better.” He smiles.

“I can make it a lot better if you’d let me.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Means that my boy pitched a 5 inning no hitter, had a homerun in the 3rd inning and looks really hot in his pants.” You smirk, his eyes going wide. “So,” You lean up, lips brushing his ear, “Take a shower, change, and meet me at your car because you may have lost the game but,”

“I won the girl,” He answers quickly.

“And she’s ready to celebrate, so hurry.”

He gulps, nodding. “Give me 10 minutes.” He says, pecking your lips and rushing off to the locker room.

You giggle, shaking your head and turning and bumping into your Dad.

“Hey, you ready? I need a drink.” He says twirling his keys around his finger.

“Actually, I have plans.” You say playing with the wave ring on your thumb.

“Oh?” He says, frowning a bit.

“But you should go out with the coaches Dad. Larry would love to join you for a beer, I’m sure of it.”

“Yeah I guess I can ask.” He says turning to look at Larry’s, the fielding coach, office door. “What time will you be back?”

“I’m not sure,” You nibble at your lip.

“Keep me posted then.” He says smiling.

“Okay,”

“Have a nice night then.”

“I will.” You smile.

He walks away, and you let out a sigh.

“Thought he wasn’t gonna let you go, thank god you’re so trustworthy.” Shawn smirks from behind you. 

“Shut it,” You turn to him.

“Lying to your Dad, how irresponsible.”

“You want me to be responsible?” You raise a brow.

“God no, you’re mine now.” He says grabbing the front of your shirt and pulling you into him.

You giggle when you crash into his chest, your giggles being swallowed by his lips on yours.

“Stop, not here.” You push him away. “My Dad could turn the corner at any second.”

“Then let’s go.” He says grabbing your hand and rushing the two of you out of the stadium and to his car.

**

Three hours later you stand in his bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair is a mess from his pillows, lips swollen from him nipping at them, and there’s a new hickey sitting between your breasts.

Claimed he wanted to mark his territory, but only in a place that he gets to see.

“Babe, what do you want for dinner?” He calls from the kitchen.

You giggle, giving your lingerie clad body one more glance before you walk out to greet him.

You lean over and pick up his jersey from the floor, slipping it over your shoulders.

“Shawn it’s almost midnight, it’s not dinner time anymore.” You say walking into the kitchen as you button up jersey. You admire his bare back, muscles moving as he digs into a cupboard. He’s standing in just his grey sweats, the elastic of his boxers peaking over the top.

He turns at the closeness of your voice, eyes widening at the sight of you.

“Oh fuck,” Falls from his lips.

“What?” You look down, worried that something’s wrong.

“You look so hot in my jersey.” He sighs, hands gripping your hips, pulling you into him, lips attacking yours.

“This isn’t making dinner,” You mumble against his lips.

“Kind of want this for dinner.” He dips his tongue into your mouth. “Delicious.”

“Really? Because I kind of want pizza.” You pull away, meeting his shocked face.

“Really? I was trying to be cute, and you want pizza?”

You giggle, turning to look away from him. You grab his phone from his counter and start looking up to see if there are any pizza joints open this late.

His hands are caressing your sides, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“There’s a 24 hour pizza place, fuck yeah!” You say clicking the call button.

“It’s hot when you cuss.” He says into your ear, lips at your neck sucking a new bruise to your skin.

“Not in a visible spot- Hi! Can I get a medium pepperoni and medium cheese pizza?” You order.

He chuckles against your skin, licking at the sore spot he just created.

“I need the address.” You whisper, holding back a moan.

Shawn turns away from you, leaving a shiver to run down your spine. He returns with an advertisement paper from his mail pile, pointing to his address in the middle of the rectangular paper.

You give the address to the pizza guy and thank him after he tells you it’d be 30 minutes.

“We have a half hour.” You say turning back to Shawn.

“Oh all the things we could do in a half hour.” He smirks, leaning in and capturing your lips again.

You giggle, reaching up and tangling your fingers in his hair. He leans down a bit, grabbing the back of your bare thighs and setting you on the counter, your legs wrapping around his narrow waist.

For the next 15 minutes the two of your make out in his kitchen, his hands are wandering a bit, slipping up under his jersey and stopping at your sides, fingers digging into your skin.

You squirm, giggling a little and he pulls back.

“Are you ticklish?” He grins.

“No,” You lie.

“You’re totally lying, I can see it in your eyes.”

He tries to tickle you but you push him away, “No, don’t!”

“Oh you’re in for it.” He smirks, and you jump down from the counter running away from him.

“No stop Shawn!” You laugh as he chases you.

You run to his living room, running around his coffee table with him right on your heels. You jump up on his couch and that’s where he corners you.

“Oh no,” He chuckles, “You’re stuck.”

“Fuck,” You sigh.

Right as he’s about to attack there's a loud knock at his door and he pouts.

“HA!” You tease him.

“I’m gonna get you.” He warns you. He turns to go to the door, but before he can get away you jump on his back. “Hey,” He says immediately reaching back and gripping your thighs so you don’t fall.

“Hi.” You giggle into his ear, kissing his cheek as your arms wrap around his neck.

“How am I supposed to get the pizza like this Spider Monkey,” He walks to the door. “You’re gonna fall,”

“Nope, I’m pretty secured.” You say tightening your legs around his waist.

He laughs, causing a fit of giggles to escape your lips as he pulls the door open.

“Shawn! Sorry it’s so late have you see-”

You and Shawn deadpan, both hearts stopping.

There on Shawn’s doorstep is not the pizza delivery guy, but your Dad.

“Y/n?” Your Dad asks with a shrill in his voice. His eyes land on Shawn with a glare.

“Shit.” You slide off Shawn’s back.

“Sir, I can explain,” Shawn speaks up.

“Nope, she’s just who I was looking for.” Your Dad puts a hand up to stop him. “Get your things.” He glares at you. “It’s late.”

“Dad,”

“Get. Your. Things. We’re leaving.” He says turning and walking back to his car.

You look at Shawn with wide eyes.

“What do we do?” You whisper.

He sighs, looking down. “Just go, we’ll fix it in the morning.

“But I don’t wanna go, I wanna stay with you.”

“I want you to stay too, but it’s gonna be better if you go.”

“We could just,”

“Y/n just go.” Shawn says picking up your shorts and handing them to you.

You look at him with hurt eyes, slipping your shorts on and grabbing your purse from the chair by the door. You stare at him as you walk to the car.

The pizza guy passes you on the walkway.

You sigh, looking down at your ring and fiddling with it nervously as you get in the car.

Your Dad drives you home in silence, intentionally going out of his way to avoid you at all costs.

When you both walk in the door at home you stop him in the kitchen.

“Well, what are you gonna say? Because you have something to say so you might as well just spit it out.”

“I’m disappointed.” He says shaking his head walking to the stairs.

“Why?”

“Because I caught you naked with a player Y/n!”

“I was not naked! And so what if he’s a player?”

“It’s unprofessional, and having just a shirt on does not mean you were covered.” He crosses his arms.

“How is it unprofessional? It’s not like I’m a coach or really matter anything to the team. I’m 18, I can date Shawn if I’d like.” You argue back.

“You mean so much to this team, and you just fucked it up.”

“What?”

“They were gonna give you a bigger job, starting at manager was just the stepping stone. Larry’s retiring and guess who was gonna be offered his job. But now you won’t be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“And why won’t I be offered the job anymore.”

“Because you’re sleeping with players.”

“Player, not plural.”

“Well, don’t bother coming back anymore.” He says turning to walk away.

“What does that mean?’

“It means you’ve been fired.” He says slamming the door to his bedroom.

You stand in the kitchen stunned.

Your Dad just fired you.

**

“Y/n, talk to me. I’m, I’m going a little insane without you. You’re worrying me and I just need you to answer or call me back. Please.” You’ve replayed Shawn’s message 45 times now.

You sit in the living room, ESPN on the tv as a bowl of cereal sits in your hands.

“I’ll be back later.” Your Dad gruffs walking out of the house, and when the door shuts your tear drops.

How could this be you? You lost the game, you lost the boy, and it feels like your losing your Dad in the process.

**

“Mendes!”

He’s called to the circle at the mound, a few other players standing around. He walks up, a new guy he’s never seen before standing next to your Dad.

He’s been looking for you all day, when you left Friday night he fell apart. Staring at the two boxes of pizza he was supposed to eat with you, your shirt on his floor, hair tie in the bathroom, smell on his sheets.

“Everyone meet the new team manager Brad.”

Everyone gasps, eyes going wide, staring at Coach.

“What happened to Y/n?” Center field speaks up.

“She’s will be no longer working with us,” Your Dad answers harshly.

“Why?”

“She didn’t understand the professional aspect of the job, and that’s all I’m gonna say.”

Shawn’s heart stops, he looks down at his cleats. His jaw clenches as Brad introduces himself, speaking to the teammates about things only you know about.

He starts to walk away from the group, needing to see you, to fix this.

“Mendes? Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m gonna be sick.” Is all he says, walking straight out of the field, dugout, stadium.

His fingers are drumming on the steering wheel as he races to you, parking on the street, jumping out of his Jeep and running up to your door.

He knocks until you answer, and his heart stops when he sees your puffy eyes and messy hair. Even when you feel like shit you look so damn beautiful.

“Shawn?” You croak.

“Why’d you quit?” He asks softly, his voice cracking at the sight of you.

“What?” You ask, wiping the tear on your cheek away.

“Why’d you quit? Was it because of me? Don’t quit because of me.”

“I didn’t quit.” You shake your head.

“What?” He asks confused, “Then why was I introduced to a new manager today?”

“Because I was fired.”

He deadpans, eyes going wide.

“Excuse me? Why were you fired?”

“Because my Dad caught us.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Means that I’m unprofessional with my work.”

“It’s not like your a coach, you can’t show favoritism, not like you would anyway.”

Your tears pick up again, and he pouts at your red face and frown, “That’s the thing,” You hiccup, “They were gonna offer me a coaching position.”

He shuts his eyes, head tilting back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows the lump in his throat.

“Then I’ll quit.” He shrugs.

“No! No way.” You shake your head.

“No, I’ll quit so you can Coach.” He says determined.

“No Shawn, you can’t quit. You have a future here, you’re gonna do great things.”

“You are too.” He argues.

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head. “I’m just a girl with a dream,”

“One that should come true, and I’m standing in the way of it.”

“Shawn,” You sigh, “You have a dream too, and yours is coming true. You’re gonna break records, reach new potential, become an inspiration to millions. You’re dream is too much to give up just for mine.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re a major league baseball player Shawn,” You state. “I’m just some girl who’s been sitting in a stadium seat her whole life.”

“That’s not true.” He shakes his head.

“Your dream is more important, simple as that. So if you quit I’ll kill you.”

“Y/n, I don’t know what to do.”

“Play Shawn, play the game you were born to play.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Always,”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, and I know it’s a crazy thing to say but,” He shrugs, “It’s how I feel. And I want to be able to feel that with you.”

“I want to feel that too, because I feel the same but Shawn if you quit and I do this then you’ll resent me. It will be my fault your dreams didn’t come true.”

“But the same goes for me, if I play and you don’t work then you’ll resent me. Because your dream since you were 5 years old was to be apart of the team, and I’ll be the reason why you aren’t.”

“Then what does that mean?” You ask, voice cracking as more tears pool in your eyes.

“I don’t know, what I do know is that I don’t want you to resent me.”

“And I don’t want you to resent me.” You repeat.

“I really don’t like where this is going.” He chokes, trying not to cry himself.

“It has to happen Shawn. For the both of us to be happy it has to happen.”

“But you’re still gonna resent me. Because either way I play and you don’t get to coach.”

“It’s okay, I’ll try and find a new dream.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“But that’s life.” You swallow. “This is my life, and I have to accept that. I don’t get the job, or the boy. My fairytale life I was living is now a nightmare and I have to accept that.”

“You don’t deserve that.”

“Obviously life thinks I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Don’t make it harder Shawn,” You say starting to close the door.

“Please don’t.” He cries.

“It’s the way it has to be.” You say before closing and locking the door.

His heart shatters at the sound of your sob when you turn around. He bangs on the door, begging you to open it. He just wants to hold you and make it all better. You don’t deserve this and he didn’t know how to fix it.

**

You sit at the table across from your Dad that night, your eyes are red and bloodshot, your face is swollen from crying.

“Shawn stopped by today.” You whisper grimly, voice completely wrecked from sobbing all day.

“I know,”

“He offered to quit so I could continue to work.”

“I know,” Your father says again.

“What?” You look up.

“He came to my office when he left here. Told me that you didn’t deserve this and that he’d quit so you could work. I didn’t let him, but oh man he wasn’t happy with me. Yelled and told me that you deserved so much more than crying by yourself. That your dreams are so much more important than his and that he’d do anything to see your dreams come true, even if that meant that his didn’t.”

“You didn’t let him quit right?” You sit up. He just stares at you. “You didn’t let him quit, RIGHT?” When he doesn’t answer you panic. “Oh my god, I fucking him told him not to do this. He’s gonna accomplish so much more than I will. He is so much more important.” You head is in your hands, pulling at your hair.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because we all know that I’ll be called coach but not a single person will listen to me, but he’s gonna break records and become one of the best pitchers in the MLB.”

“He said you’d say that.”

“What?” You look up.

“How long has this been going on?”

“My relationship with Shawn?”

“Yeah.”

“Um well we were friends when you made me coach him, and since then we kind of just spent every moment we could together. We didn’t start dating until a few weeks ago.”

“He cares a lot about you, it’s not often that a man is willing to give up his dreams that are right in reach for a girl.”

“I won’t let him give them up.”

“That’s how I know you’re in love with him.”

“Excuse me?”

“You care for him too, because you want to see him succeed more than you want to see yourself succeed. And vice versa. You’re playing Romeo and Juliet here, giving up something for the other. But the thing is,” Your Dad pauses, “There’s no need for that here.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you have your job back, well not your job per say. You’ll be shadowing Larry so you can get a feel of what you’ll have to do next season. And Shawn will continue to pitch. Both of your dreams will come true, together.”

“Really?” You ask with a smile.

“He’s very persuasive about you.”

“I know,” You bite your lip.

“Oh, and he’s sitting in the driveway.”

You look over, spotting his Jeep through the window.

“Shawn,” You whisper, getting up and running out to him.

He’s sitting on the hood of his car when you come running out. He jumps down just in time to catch you. You wrap your legs around his waist and squeeze him tight.

“Hi.” He says once you’ve stopped squealing.

“Hi.”

“What did he say? Did he give you your job back?”

And just to tease him you go, “No. He didn’t.”

“What?”

“He gave me a new job though.” You smile.

Shawn’s eyes that were wide and sad brighten and find yours.

“That was so mean.” He laughs, tickling your side now that you can’t runaway.

“Shawn!” You laugh, squirming in his hold.

He stops, chuckling as you look at him.

“You still mine?” He asks softly, blinking slowly.

“Yeah,” You nod, leaning in and kissing him softly.

“I told you I’d get you.” He mumbles against your lips.

**

Three weeks later Shawn stands on the mound, hat sitting on is precious curls, dressed up in his uniform.

“Y/n, what do you think?” Larry asks nodding to Shawn.

“About what?” You ask cautiously.

“Is he good or should we take him out.”

“He’s pitching a no hitter right now, if you take him out of the game I’ll beat your ass.” You say with no shame. “Don’t do that to him. You’ve taken it away once, do it again and make him hurt the way he did the first time and I’ll take care of it.”

Your Dad is chuckling from behind you, patting Lary’s shoulder.

“She’s a bit protective of Mendes, so watch it.”

“I just wanted to see what she was gonna say.” Larry laughs, nudging your knee.

They keep him in the game, and he’s down the to last inning, last batter. He just needs this last strikeout to pitch a no hitter.

Your chewing your nails, bouncing your left leg, watching intently.

He can feel the pressure, you can see it in his shoulders, which is why he’s thrown two balls now.

“Call time.” You speak up.

Larry looks at you confused, “He’s good,”

“No I need to talk to him, call time.”

“Call time Larry, if she thinks he needs a minute give it to him. He’s about to throw the best game he’s ever pitched in his life.”

“Time Blue!” Larry steps out of the dugout.

You step on the field, Shawn’s eyes going wide when he sees you and your Dad making your way to him.

“I’m okay,” He says when you make it to the mound. “Don’t take me out Coach.”

Your Dad laughs, “I wasn’t the one to call time.” He looks to you.

“Y/n?” Shawn looks at you. “I’m okay,”

“I know,” You sigh, biting your lip.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I have a pointer though.” You smirk at him, and he grins. “And you said that if I had pointers to tell you so it would help your game.”

“And what’s your pointer?”

“To relax.” You sigh. “Take a breath. You’re too uptight. If you keep your shoulders tense you won’t throw a strike for the rest of the game. Chill a bit.”

“You called time to tell me to chill?” He looks at you with a raised brow.

By now your Dad is chuckling and walking away from you two.

“Questioning my coaching again?” You ask, looking up at Shawn.

“Gonna massage my shoulders like you did that night?”

“That might make this a little too personal, but if you finish this game I will.”

“Oh? What if I want more than just a massage?” He leans closer.

“We both know that massages between us lead to so much more.”

“You saying that I’m gonna get some?”

“You gotta strike him out.” You shrug, winking at him.

“Still evil.” He grins, watching you walk away. “Thought the new job description would change you.”

“Never.” You giggle walking back into the dugout.

He’s relaxed now, rolling his shoulders and setting.

Strike One.

He’s looking at you, tossing a wink your way.

Strike Two.

He’s biting his lip, blowing you a quick kiss.

Strike Three.

And that’s the game. Shawn just pitched a no hitter.

The team is rushing out of the dugout, crowding him on the field.

You stand with the coaches, applauding him.

“What are you doing?” Your Dad asks, pushing you forward a little bit. “Go congratulate him.”

“I’ll wait,”

“The kid just pitched a no hitter and you’re gonna just sit here and clap for him. Don’t be stupid, go kiss him.”

“Did you just tell me to go kiss my boyfriend?”

“Don’t make me say it again, go.” He pushes you towards the group of rowdy boys.

You lock eyes with him and he smiles, waving you closer.

That’s when you start running, and he catches you with ease.

Lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around his neck, fingers clutching his curls as you take his hat off.

“You did so good Baby.” You whisper to him.

“All because of your pointers.” He smirks.

You tug on his curls a bit, giggling.

“Come here.” He squeezes your thighs, making you lean down and kiss him.

His lips are soft against yours, working in a rhythm together.

“I love you.” You whisper when you pull away.

“I love you too.” He smiles, planting a kiss to your neck. “I also really love your jersey.” He smiles.

You claimed to not be able to find your jersey, so you just borrowed Shawn’s extra. Leaving you in a 08 Mendes jersey.

“It looks so good.” He smiles.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You sporting the name Mendes? Yeah, I like that. A lot.”

“Me too.” You giggle, kissing him again.

You revel in the fact that you are living your own fairytale.

Sure it doesn’t have dresses and heels, dancing balls and parties.

But it does have tight baseball pants and cleats, pitching nets and opening days.

You got the job, you got the boy, you got the love story and you got the happy ending.

Seems like a home run to you.