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ladyveronikawrites · 2 months

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DOMINATE THE GAME

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

CW: 18+ MNDI, Coach/athlete au, coach athlete sexual relationship [all parties regardless of being fiction are of legal age of consent]

The National Women’s Soccer League Anti-Harassment Policy: This policy prohibits the use of coercion, force, intimidation, or Power Imbalance to pursue sexual contact or an intimate relationship of any sort.

The story includes: oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, mentions of contraceptives. If I missed anything please let me know💜

This is real person fiction; Fiction based on real people in fictitious situations.

A/N: Huge shout out to @nerdraging4point0 for helping me with this fic, holding my hand every step of the way as I venture into new waters. Coach Davis caused a bit of a frenzy in my server and well here we are. Also, check out her coach au, Underdog 🥎

word count: 2.5k

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It’s your third lap around the track and you see him talking with your coach on the sidelines. Coach Davis is back for his third week of observation. Whatever that means. He hasn’t said a single word to you or the other players. You barely remember his voice since he only whispers from the sidelines at your coach and has only addressed the team to introduce himself on the first day. Not even a “congratulations” when we won our last game last week.

Nothing.

You huff as you pass the pair slowing your pace just enough to roll your eyes at Coach Davis in his stupid sunglasses, boring varsity hoodie-from a rival college no less, and his fucking lame ass dad baseball cap.

“You’re going to regret that.” Suddenly the air expels from your lungs, leaving you wheezing and coughing. Easing your pace to a steady jog, you gather your breath as you close the distance between you and your best friend Kate.

“You ok? I saw you having a fit over there after you passed Coach Davis.” This time you fake a coughing fit to cover up the burning in your cheeks and the strange feeling in your stomach as his name rolls around in your brain like a terrible game of racquetball.

“Yeah, fine,” you say between forced coughs before ending your charade by clearing your throat and then spitting into the grass field beside you.

“Yeah, ok whatever you say,” your best friend rolls her eyes as you grin back at her. Just then, Coach Chris blows his whistle and you and Kate pick up the pace, joining the team at the benches. Folding your arms to match him, you narrow your eyes at the to-be-assistant coach.

“Coach Davis will be leading practice today as I have a club meeting right now. He will take good care of you, I have faith in him. Remember we have an away game Saturday morning, be at the field at 7 am for warm up before we commute.”

“Yes Coach,” we all respond in unison. Coach Chris nods at you knowingly, the captain of the team, before sauntering off the track.

“We are going to do things a little differently today,” his voice is low and soft as he scans over the team but you can feel his intense gaze land on yours through his tinted sunglasses. He speaks straight into your soul “You all have great potential, I want to see it. I want to feel it!”

Your heart jumps into your throat as you wait for what comes next. Coach Davis drags the whistle from around his neck to press against his plump lips. Instantly, your mouth goes dry, and something strange stirs in your belly as you stare just a moment longer. You don’t hear the tinging of the whistle, lost in thought about what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

Transfixed, you don’t recognize the flurry of bodies surrounding you until you hear your name being screamed into your ear. “Hello!? Don’t make me repeat myself!” Coach Davis towers over you glaring, “Get out onto the field, now!” You bow your head slightly, balling your hands into fists as you swallow down the humiliation. Your stomach bubbles with rage and your shoulders tense. You've been playing soccer since you were 6 and this prick dares to tell you how to play.

“Yes, Coach,” you say through gritted teeth, jogging to Kate but she isn't in her usual spot. Fucking Bastard. He has us set up for the ‘Drill from Hell’ as we call it. We never do it with Coach Chris because it just doesn't work for our team.

“I see some concerned eyes and whispers. If you don't like the way I coach you can get the FUCK OFF MY FIELD!”

My Field. Your knuckles turn white as you grind your teeth. No one breathes. No one moves a muscle. The only sound is the high-pitched shrill of the whistle.

We run this drill three more times before Jessie faints, abruptly ending the practice. “She'll be fine. Sydney get her water and a protein bar.” Coach nonchalantly before stalking off the field.

What the fuck.

When you make your way to check on Jessie, she's alert and drinking water. “How are you?” You ask, looking between her and Sydney. Syd looks rattled and Jessie has some color back into her face.

“Yeah, I'll be ok. There was a party last night-”

“Alright, I get it,” you raise your hand cutting her off before giving Syd a sympathetic smile. When Jessie gets this way, Coach Chris just lets her sit out of practice. But this practice was far from normal. You follow Jess and Syd into the locker room to find it deserted. Figures Kate would bail.

Sighing, you open your locker to check your phone. You get a poor excuse from Kate as to why she abandoned you and as you sling your bag over your shoulder your phone chimes. Your jaw drops to the floor. It's Coach Davis, but in a tight white tank top and his short hair slicked back. He's covered in tattoos. Mother fuck.

<Kate: God, he's hot

I can't do this right now. You slam the locker shut and collapse against it. Groaning, you screw your eyes shut tight and pinch the bridge of your nose in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. You hope you never see Coach Davis again. Who died and made him God, like the fuck. Has he even coached a day in his life?

You push off the locker and say goodbye to Jessie and Syndey before heading out the door. Somehow you find yourself at Coach Chris' office just a few doors away from the locker room. Your hand hovers over the doorknob as your brain battles between running away and giving Coach Davis a mouthful, you are the captain of the team after all, and Coach Chris has supported you since day one.

“Coach I need to-” Your hasty demand dies instantly and your feet turn into cement when you spot Coach Davis doing push-ups in front of Coach Chris’ desk.

“99, 100!” Coach Davis grunts as he jumps up from the ground when he turns to face you, all of your pent-up tenacity and wit plummets to your stomach. “I knew you’d come,” Coach Davis smirks as he wipes himself off with a towel. His glistening muscles flex with every minute movement. How could something so simple be so arousing?

“I- uh,” your brain short circuits as you track his flexing back muscles when he turns to throw the used towel into the corner of the room. He leans back against the coach’s desk and crosses his legs at the ankles, folding his arms around his chest.

“Spit it out already,” he barks. You try to swallow down the words you know will get you in trouble, but the lump in your throat gets in the way. His annoyed gaze spikes your anxiety. It’s all too much- his deep voice and damp hair sticking to the side of his face….

Wait, is that a scar from a dermal piercing? Fuck me.

The words tumble from your parted lips before you can shove them away and bury the thoughts of a pierced and tatted Coach Davis.

“Fuck me-” Before the last syllable echoes through the silent room, your eyes go wide and your hands instantly cover your mouth as you begin to retreat. Your eyes go wide when your back hits the wall with a thud. Your shoulders tense and breathing shallows as you wait for your harsh discipline. His features stay neutral except for a small curl of his pouty lip. Did he just smile?

“I’msosorrycoach-” you stammer out an apology when he pushes himself from the desk. Your heartbeat skyrockets as he takes a step closer to you. “I should go.”

Your cheeks flame red as you turn to leave. Your hand is just about to make contact with the doorknob when you find yourself being harshly spun around. Slamming to a solid chest, all of the air expels from your lungs, leaving you stunned and breathless. He doesn’t give you time to adjust your stance before pushing you against the wall, leaning over to lock the door and close the blinds before caging you in his toned tattooed arms.

“Come on now, where’s the fight?” Your blood boils as a smug smirk spreads across his face. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He sneers, flashing his canines right in your face.

I want to wipe that smug smile off of his face, your thoughts turn dark. You know he is your superior and you’d lose your scholarship in an instant if someone found out. But there’s something about this moment, it’s exhilarating and you think he wants it too.

Coach Davis leans in to inhale your scent before stepping back. You force your expression neutral as he casually cracks his neck before clearing his throat. “Let’s try this again,” he huffs. “You are the captain of the team? Aren’t you?” He all but screams in your face.

“Yes, Coach.” Your usual confidence springs back into your voice as you stare intensely back at him. If he wants to play, then game fucking on.

“Then lead!” His voice booms loud in your ears as he closes the distance. You suck in a breath as he leans down at nips at your earlobe.

“Lead. Me.” He bites out through clenched teeth.

Lead me. He wants me to do what?!

Then it hits you like a freight train; him- his pheromones mixed with a bite of bergamot that is softened by vanilla. When you take another breath to calm your mind, your system is bombarded by him. The ache between your thighs is answer enough.

“Don’t make me-”

“Kiss me!” Before you have a chance to take it back and ruminate on the consequences of your actions, large hands clasp around your face in a vice grip as full lips crash into yours. At first, your body tenses to his touch, but when he moans into your open mouth, you melt like putty in his hands. It’s all tongue and teeth as you both fight for air, fight for dominance- and this time you aren’t giving up so easily. You shove him in the chest breaking your heated kiss and you laugh at his shocked expression.

“Fiesty little on-”

“Pants off. Now,” you demand.

In an instant, his pants and boxers are pooling at his ankles, his hard cock springing to life. Goddamn, he’s covered in tattoos. Your pussy flutters around nothing as you bite down on your lip hard, tasting copper.

“I wanna hear you,” you say cooly as you sink onto your knees. You spit on your hands before wrapping them around the base of his shaft, jerking him a few times. Peering up at him through your thick lashes you add, “I wanna feel you come undone.”

Coach Davis groans as you take him in your mouth. You dig your nails into his thick thigh muscles earning a hiss and a curse as you take him deeper until you gag. Wrapping your hands around the rest of him, you hollow your cheeks sucking him harder. Bobbing your head up and down, he curses your name. You know he’s close so you double your efforts. Suddenly, pain shoots through your scalp as fingers grip your hair pulling you off him.

“As much…” Coach Davis pants. “I want you to keep going, I-” Coach Davis grips the back of your neck pulling you up to him. He latches his lips to yours, all-consuming. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you snake your hands under his shirt, using your fingernails to claw at his back.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips. Coach Davis leans back to drag his hands over the desk knocking papers and folders to the ground before gripping you by the hips and hoisting you onto the edge of the desk. You squeal when your feet lift from the ground but it instantly melts into a moan when he spreads your legs apart and slides your panties to the slide before shoving a slender finger inside your slick walls.

“That all you got Coach?!… oh fuck!” he sinks another finger in without warning. He finger fucks you until your legs start to tremble and then he pulls out.

“I’m on the pill!” you blurt out as you watch him line up his red angry cock against your entrance. “I’m clean too, I just got tested last week.” You don’t know why you tell him this as your heart pounds in your chest. Maybe it’s to help calm your nerves or to urge him on. His eyes turn dark at your confession.

“Good. Girl.” He punctuates each word with a shove of his thick member.

The little support your propped-up elbows give out almost instantly as he drills into rough and relentless. You lay back and shut your eyes, giving into the sensations as the coil in your core winds up tighter. A loud groan rumbles from your throat and suddenly a hand clamps over your lips.

“Only quiet girls get to come, got it?” Your breathing becomes labored but you manage to move your head slightly in understanding.

Coach Davis grips your hips tighter, skin slapping, bringing you closer to the edge when he hits the spongy sweet spot. Instantly, your fingernails find purchase on his tattoos forearms.

“Oh my god, you’re close, aren’t you…God you feel so good… come on, let go and co-”

All of a sudden the doorknob giggles. “Fuck,” Coach Davis curses under his breath as he pulls out of you. “Under the desk, quick.” You dive under the desk just as his footsteps cross the room.

“Coach Cerulli,” there’s a rasp in Coach Davis’ voice when he answers the door.

“I was ju-” There’s a pause when Coach Chris clears his throat. “Never mind, I’ll…uh come back later.”

“What do yo-” is the last thing you hear before the door shuts, leaving you alone in Coach Chris’ office.

A few heartbeats pass and you muster the courage to leave. You stroll from Coach Chris's office, looking both ways down the hall to ensure you aren't caught. Walking down the hall with a stupid grin on your face you stop in your tracks when a pair of angry voices carries to your ears, echoing off the walls of the empty hall.

“I’m not stupid, Davis, your ruffled clothes, the papers on the floor… for fucks sake.” Coach Chris's voice is stern and loud. “You need to end this now before it gets out of control.” You hear the shuffling of feet and incoherent grumbles.

“What did you say?” Coach Davis asks.

Chris sighs, “There was this player on a softball team I coached..” his voice trembles a little bit. You cover your mouth turning on your heel quickly to head down the opposite hall.

Back at your off-campus apartment, you scroll through your texts to find that Kate will be out late despite an early game tomorrow. Relief floods your system as you plop down on your bed, knowing you won’t be faced with an unwanted interrogation. You are about to put your phone on dnd for the night when a text from an unknown number pops up. Your stomach tightens, he got the note you left in the mess of papers on the floor… but what if it’s not Coach Davis?

<Since I got you nice and warmed up, ready for practice?

Coach Davis?>

<Of course, my good girl

How can I be sure?>

<Would Coach Cerulli send you this?

Your mouth drops to the floor at the picture, the size of him. Arousal heats your core as the memory of him and your unfinished business.

Fuck it.

Yes, Coach, I’m ready for practice.>

#bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x female reader #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens au #sports au #coach au #ladyveronikawrites

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aerverics · 10 months

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╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

~Character Ai~

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

¦ Symbols Meaning ¦

(✧. ┊ ) fantasy AU

(ׂׂૢ) Work partners or so

(✰. ┊) modern / step / highschool au

(ꕥ) Start with angst

(ღ) Soft = sibling / lover / friendly

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

═ ⋆I take any requests for any characters⋆ ═

Barnabas Tharmr

✧. ┊A test to be his queen

Cidolfus Telamon

ׂׂૢ Cid wanted the nurse attention

Chris Redfield

ꕥ You catch Chris *cheated* on you

Clive Rosfield

LIST

Cloud Strife

ꕥ Fall apart relationship

✰. ┊ Head teacher! Cloud x teacher! You

ׂׂૢ Cloud being drugged by a monster

ღ Cloud's girlfriend find him in a dress photo

Dante

ღ Your Husband save you

ׂׂૢ Dante your partner for Demon Hunter

ღ Dante comforting his wife after she's giving birth

✰. ┊ ⁭ HIGHSCHOOL AU

ღ Dante find out his wife pregnant

ღ Dante being slightly overprotective to his wife

ꕥ He is worried about his wife

✧. ┊Ran from your royal life to be with your man

Dion Lesage

ׂׂૢ Finding a bride for Dion

Ellie Williams

ღ Ellie excited knowing her crush gonna treat her injuries

Ignis Scientia

ׂׂૢ Ignis's new assistant

ღ The advisor might have feelings for you

Izumi Miyamura

ꕥ You had a crush on him

Jin Kazama

✧. ┊ ⁭Vampire Au

ღ He find out you're pregnant

ׂׂૢ He keep showing up in your infirmary

✰. ┊Your Grumpy dorm mate's brother

Joshua Rosfield

ׂׂૢ Joshua confessed to his companion

ꕥ Pregnant with Joshua's

✰. ┊Joshua got jealous with his 'wife'

Leon S Kennedy

✧. ┊ ⁭Spiderman Leon

✧. ┊ Married to duke Leon

ׂׂ ღ Assassin x Agent Leon

ׂׂૢ Mission with Leon

✰. ┊Your annoying step-brother

Marius Von hagen

✧. ┊ ⁭Marius your annoying Emperor

Neuvillette

ꕥ Choose him please

Nicholas Leister

✰. ┊Your rude step-brother

ꕥ Annoying Ex boyfriend

ꕥ Frenemies with Nick

Noah Morgan

ღ Noah felt jealously

Noctis Lucis Caelum

LIST

Prompto Argentum

⁭ღ Noctis's younger sibling

Reno Sinclair

ׂׂૢ Work partner with Reno

ღ Reno trying to talk after making you jealous

Scaramouche

✧. ┊ Spiderman Scaramouche

Sephiroth

ꕥ Sephiroth kidnapped you

ꕥ he manipulate your memories beforehand

Sleipnir Harbard

Zack Fair

ღ Sleipnir tried to get along with you

Xavier

ꕥ He's going to lock you

✧. ┊ Zack wake up in FFXV's universe after dying

Origanal Characters

Kazeric Kairen - ✧. ┊ ⁭Academic rival who help you during zombies attack in your school

Cherry - ✧. ┊ A little lady who safe you

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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isn't it romantic? | myg (01)

ENTRY ONE: Me Before You

⟶ SERIES MASTERPOST

Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader; side/past taehyung x f!reader

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genre/warnings: coworkers to lovers, magazine writers au, fluff, angst, eventual smut; central themes of cheating (not between yoongi and oc), swearing (a staple in this household 😗), one bit is a lilllll suggestive?, mentions of drinking, i think that's it hmmm, barely edited bc u know how we do

word count: 5.1k

note: this is the yoongi brainrot speaking !!! the banner for this entry is one of my all time favorite pics of him and i will find a way to use it in everything !!! but erhm yeah iir is officially starting and i'm very curious to see what y'all think about it 😗 please like it haha jk no i'm serious please like it it's my baby

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

I waste my breath on a prayer, you don't care, I was never a part of your plan, You can't make a God of somebody, Who's not even half of a half-decent man.

I Burned LA Down - Noah Cyrus

Half your life, you hated blue.

You often associated it with so many bad things - loss, betrayal, loneliness. The great big storm. The end of life.

Most of the pigtails-wearing girls in your class disliked it because it was often a boy’s color. You hated it because of a stranger on a beach.

Then you discovered Blue Side (as ironic as the name was), the magazine that everybody and their mother was reading. There was this column - the Love Maze (as corny as it sounded) - that had your 15-year-old self hooked from the first article you read, “Flirty Pickup Lines to Text Your Crush”. It gave you a nice little distraction from the reality of your fucked up family.

You’d get home from school and dive right into it. You could count on the maze for a new article every day, covering all kinds of things - cute little quizzes, daily love horoscopes, relationship tidbits…

You started reading it religiously because it was stupid, and fun, but it was more than that too. They covered real-life stories of actual people, which you’d never really thought about. For the most part, it was tedious. Rekindling with an old flame whilst grocery shopping, accidentally spilling coffee on a stranger who then asked you out on the spot, etc. Things like that. You found them so… unremarkable.

But then it went beyond that, when they told their stories looking back on years and years after that first happenstance. How there was love in the mundane. How there was love every single day, even on the bad ones. How there was a spark that two people cared for and nurtured into a warm fire that never burnt out.

How there was love.

How there was always love.

To you, that was magical. It was something you’d only ever heard about in fairytales when you were a kid.

You still remember the exact moment when it all changed for you.

You met Kim Taehyung during your third week at Blue Side, where you were a wide-eyed assistant editor who somehow wiggled her way into a position there, and he was an effortlessly charming graphic designer.

Admittedly, the first time that you two had ever talked, wasn’t under ideal circumstances. You were tucked away behind the office building, nails digging into your palms at 3PM on a sunny but freezing afternoon, willing your tears to stay where they belonged. You’d felt severely underqualified, like you were only flailing about, trying to keep your head above water but something kept pulling at your feet, not stopping until you were at the very bottom. People always talked about how your early 20s were the most beautiful and freeing years, when you could truly live and feel your youth blossom all around you. But that just wasn’t true. Those were the loneliest years of your life.

Taehyung had found you then, while he was out for a quick smoke break. He could’ve made a lame excuse and left, or simply pretended to not notice you were even there, but he stayed. He approached you and asked what was wrong. He offered you words of reassurance and encouragement even though you were nothing but a stranger to him.

You were touched by his simple act of kindness and his endearing smile. Maybe it’s because you’d never been offered much kindness throughout your life that his small gesture seemed like everything. In a way, it was everything. He looked like the kind of fairytale love that you’d only seen in movies, only read about in Love Maze. To this day, a part of you still thinks that you fell in love with him the very second he asked, “Are you okay?”

The timing felt right.

Taehyung felt right.

He, too, was like the sun in the middle of a cold and isolating winter.

You remember the color of his sweater, and it was then that you realized blue didn’t have to be so bad after all.

[15:39] You: what r u doing tonight?

[15:45] Tae ♡: probably just head home after the gym. play a couple matches with Jungkook. hope i don’t die boiling water for ramen and hit the hay early

[15:46] Tae ♡: miss you :(

[15:49] You: thanks

[15:52] Tae ♡: mean

[15:53] You: lol 😇

[15:54] You: i miss you too <3

[15:56] Tae ♡: can’t you come back earlier?

[15:58] You: there’s only a week left. you’re a big boy, u can handle it :)

That was a lie. You were already on the train when you sent him that text, bouncing your leg all the way back to the city at the mere thought of surprising him with your early return. You’d taken a leave from work to visit your family, spent some time somewhere quieter, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city.

You watch as the scenery passes by, fast-paced like you’re in a montage. The rest of forever is right around the corner. You wish you could skip to your happily ever after and not have to rewind the tape ever again.

When the diamond on your ring finger catches the sunlight coming from outside the window, you allow yourself a blissful sigh as you gaze at the jewelry adorning your hand. But if you’re being honest, it doesn’t fit anymore, at least that’s what you’ve noticed over the past month. It’s a little loose now, not quite noticeable but you can still make out the slight difference if you concentrate hard enough. You should get it resized soon, maybe later this week now that your schedule has cleared up earlier than expected.

Three weeks is a lot of time to spend around only your family, you realize. You thought you could do it - seeing that you hadn’t been back in a while - but the second you stepped foot into your childhood home, you remembered what a dysfunctional household you had.

It was nice while it lasted, which wasn’t very long. You did all you could, bit your tongue and tried to suppress that unresolved anger until it eventually became too much to handle. Your mom has always been a complainer. Nobody likes talking about it, but she’d bring up the same old shit almost every day even though you all know what happened. Your dad would just sit there and listen as she berates him in front of you and your sister, and you suppose he keeps quiet because there’s really nothing to be said in his defense. It was his crime, and this is his punishment.

Sometimes, you wonder why dad still stays. Sometimes, you wonder why mom still lets him.

You just wanted to go, even though this was supposed to be home. You want to leave every time you visit, and it’s a haunting feeling that keeps following you around your whole life. Why is home always a place you want to leave?

When you arrived back in the city, the first place you went to was Taehyung’s apartment. You lounged about, enjoying the much needed silence after two whole weeks with your family, killing time as you waited for your fiance to return from work.

You thought about you and Taehyung, and how your wedding was only months away but this was still his place. You wondered why you hadn’t moved in yet, though it wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Even though you spent most days of the week at Taehyung’s, you still had your own place.

Twenty minutes before he was usually supposed to come home, you ordered from his favorite restaurant, so he would have a proper meal once he was back, instead of half-assing his dinner with flavorless ramen like he’d planned.

But Taehyung didn’t come back, and the food has been cold for hours now.

You glance at your phone again.

11:02 PM.

No new notifications.

The last message you sent him was around 8:30 - just a simple Whatcha doing? - but he hasn’t replied.

There’s a small part of you that goes into a dark place, and you physically have to shake off the thoughts. Taehyung has never given you a reason not to trust him, but still, the wandering thoughts can’t help themselves. Is it insecurity, or paranoia? Or have you been programmed to be skeptical after everything that’s happened?

Maybe he’s just caught up with work. Maybe the guys at the office had last minute plans. Maybe Jungkook showed up unannounced and dragged Taehyung into one of his shenanigans again. There’s a lot of reasons to explain why he isn’t home when he said he would be.

You wait for him. Sometimes, waiting is all you can do.

You don’t get any indication of life until some time after midnight, when the door opens and you hear him stumble into the hallway. The first thing that escapes you is a sigh of relief - relieved that he’s home, safe and sound, and not out there somewhere doing things you would really not even let yourself imagine. You sit there on the couch, shrouded by darkness, now even more committed to making him squeal out of his skin after (unintentionally) making you wait for hours like that.

You carefully listen to the sounds coming from down the hall, trying to time when you’ll jump up and shock him.

There’s his shoes dropping to the floor carelessly. There’s some shuffling as he moves about, navigating his way through the dark. There’s a light thud, the sound of something hitting the wall softly.

A sharp intake of breath. His familiar groan, muffled. A whimper, feminine.

Your mind instantly blanks, and that nervous breath from before has suddenly found its way back into your lungs, growing in size until you stand up and say, “Tae?”

Somebody shrieks, and it’s neither you nor Taehyung.

When he switches on the lights, you don’t know what to focus on first - your fiance with his shirt unbuttoned, red lipstick smudged around the corners of his mouth; or the woman next to him with her back against the wall, hair disheveled, one strap of her pretty blue dress pulled down.

Huh.

If this was what you wanted, then you suppose you succeeded.

Taehyung stares at you, eyes blown wide, mouth opening and closing dumbly as he searches for words. “Y/N, I-” he stutters, “w-what are you doing here?”

You’ve seen this exact moment in movies, read it in books and online posts on the Blue Side forum from people seeking advice. You witnessed your own mother go through it when you had just learned how to read.

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands as you steady yourself. You’re not sure what your face is showing, if it’s even showing anything at all. You’re being pulled apart in every direction. Things that you felt as a child are things you never wanted to feel as an adult. It’s not until now that you finally understand why mom hasn’t gotten over it, even though it’s been decades. This is the kind of hurt that chases you wherever you go, never relenting until it makes sure it has a home deep within your bones.

You inhale a shaky breath, and take a step back when Taehyung starts approaching you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking on the apology.

You don’t want to hear any of it. You don’t want to be here anymore. For the second time today, you’re leaving home. For the second time in your life, home is being taken away again.

Somewhere in the back of your head, a tiny voice echoes, There it is.

You run out of there, feeling like the ceiling is going to collapse on you. You hear him call out your name, but his voice drifts further and further away as you move. Taehyung isn’t even following you. The faint scent of whiskey on his breath follows you out, but not him.

You keep moving until you’re out on the street, until you can’t even see the building anymore. You shiver from the chilly air, and the influx of emotions that threatens to make you burst. Lightning cuts across the night sky, flashing bright for a split second before everything dulls into darkness again. The forecast said it was going to rain tonight, you recall. Your phone in your bag vibrates the whole time, but still, no one follows you.

Your feet slow to a halt when the first drop of rain hits the ground. You’re not even sure how long you were walking, but now that you’ve stopped, you notice the shiver is gone. You’re standing completely still, and that those seismic waves in the center of your chest from earlier are nowhere to be found.

Oh. You’re doing it again.

Heavier drops start to dampen the earth.

You don’t know where else to go.

Not your own apartment. Not now. No, it’s too empty there.

Maybe it’s a sign from the universe, that you’re just undeserving of a place to belong.

You open your phone to find his name on your screen, next to the words (7) missed calls. You ring up the only person you can, and when she finally picks up, you say, “Can I come over?”

Even when your voice cracks, you don’t cry. The earthquake never comes.

Sohee takes you in like the good friend she is. You’re grateful that she was someone you could count on to always have your back at work, who then turned into one of your best friends outside of the office too.

She gives you some clothes to change into, and doesn’t question anything when you ask if you could spend the night. Though, you have a feeling that she knows who this is about. She leaves you alone to get some rest, but it’s probably because she has work in the morning too, and it was already 1:30AM when you interrupted her peace and quiet with the call.

You don’t sleep a wink that night.

Instead, you think about your mom, and how she must have felt when she found out about your dad’s infidelity, time and time again. It’s true what they say, children really don’t know a lot about their parents.

How did she feel when she first found out? You can’t imagine what it must have been like, going through all of that while having two kids to think about too.

You feel bad that just yesterday, you’d been so annoyed with her that you cut your trip short.

Outside Sohee’s windows, the sky cries, like it’s grieving in place of you, its tears drowning the earth in waves of sorrow. For a moment, you consider stepping out there, to feel the rain on your face and in your hair. But in the end, you stay inside, where you’re sheltered and dry.

You don’t realize that the sun has risen until Sohee knocks on your - well, her - door.

She cracks it open gently. “Babe?” she asks, tentative like you’re a cornered animal, ready to bolt at any given moment. “Are you up?”

You lie in her bed, feeling so foreign in your own skin. You reckon your eyes must be bloodshot from the lack of sleep. You haven’t even cried once.

“I’m alive,” you tell her, as you stare up at the ceiling. There are no stars here, just plain cream-colored paint.

“Okay,” you hear her say, then she pauses for a moment, clearly not knowing how to proceed.

Sohee approaches you, sits on the bed, and gives you a smile. She pats your hair, and it reminds you of your sister. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong? I have some time before I meet Namjoon for breakfast.”

You sit up, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It’s been switched off since you got here, and when you turn it back on, a flurry of texts light up the device until the screen lags. Messages from Taehyung, asking where you were, begging you to tell him if you were safe.

You open the texts to show him that you’ve read them. That should be enough of an answer.

You test the words in your mouth for a moment. “Taehyung cheated on me,” you say, thinking that if you verbalize it, it would be real and you would finally feel bad. That it was just a delayed reaction, that you were just too in shock to process anything. You want to feel bad, but it doesn’t work.

Sohee’s eyes widen almost comically. “Are you fucking serious?” she asks in disbelief, half because of the nature of the news itself, and half because of how calm you are.

“He cheated on me,” you repeat and still, nothing surfaces. If anything, it backfires. You can physically feel yourself doing it again - shutting down. “I caught him last night.”

You’re not sure what’s wrong with you. This isn’t a normal person’s reaction after they found out their fiance was cheating on them.

But.

It is a you reaction.

You keep doing this, even when you don’t mean to. You ran away last night, and you’re running away now. Your body shuts out every negative emotion until you feel nothing at all. It’s stupid that you do this, and it’s stupid that you don’t know how to stop doing it.

Fight or flight, and you choose flight every time. Every single fucking time.

You wish you could give Sohee something, anything would do. Scream, cry, go back to your apartment to set fire to all of Taehyung’s belongings. Anything would be better than this complete lack of emotions you’re showing.

You watch her face as it happens, things that you should be feeling but aren’t. She’s mostly shocked, angry, but not hurt. How could she? She wasn’t the one being played for a fool. You wish you could ask her to give you some of that anger, even if it’s only a fraction.

You don’t see Taehyung again until two days later, when he shows up at your door. Even when he’s standing in front of you, words spilling from his lips like prayers instead of apologies, you just feel… empty.

You let him inside, and the second that the door closes behind him, you fill up with unease. All your walls are up again, your system on high alert. Everything in your body is telling you that there’s an intruder in your space. Your feet are ready to bolt, just itching to get out of there Go, your head says, you’re not safe here.

Taehyung approaches you, tries to hold your hand, but you just shrug him off. The man in front of you visibly deflates, and despite the way his face falls, you don’t soften.

The first thing he asks you is, “Why didn’t you cry?”

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’ve been crying,” he points out. “Did you cry?”

Reluctantly, you admit, “No.”

Then he just stares at you. When his judgmental gaze holds yours, you feel guilty. Guilty that you’re not mourning the death of this relationship. Guilty that you’re just letting it go, but the truth is you don’t have any fight in you. You don’t see the point in trying to salvage what’s no longer alive.

“Do you even love me?” His voice is hard when he asks this, like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay.

“Of course I love you,” you say, but it lacks conviction. You both know it. The words sound so flaccid coming out of your mouth.

But you love him.

You do.

Did?

“Then why didn’t you cry?”

How do you tell him that you can’t? That you don’t know how?

How do you tell him that if you could, you would reach inside and claw out your feelings like digging for water in a desert.

What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t a high school crush, or a casual summer fling.

You two were supposed to get married, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to spend the rest of your life with him. If there’s anything that could make you break through those godforsaken defense mechanisms to let the hurt in, it should be this.

“Did you kiss someone else just to see if I would cry?” you ask. Your voice is even, and you can see that it makes Taehyung more frustrated than he already is.

He grits his teeth, exhaling. You notice his blue sweater, and you stop him before he can say anything else. Obviously, it looks a lot more worn than it did back then, but over the years you’ve always found it endearing. It’s the first memory that you have of him. It was always something you could cherish.

Now, you can’t even bear to look at it.

It’s then that you realize it doesn’t matter what answer he gives you. Yes? No? It genuinely doesn’t matter. There is nothing that can make you see him the same way ever again.

You run your thumb over the ring on your finger, twisting it for a moment to memorize the feel of it. It’s the last thing that ties you to him. “You can have this back,” you say, handing the piece of jewelry back to him.

When a relationship ends, especially for a reason like this, people tend to think it’ll go down in a kdrama-esque fashion - crying, slapping, throwing water in the other person’s face. But that’s not what this is. It’s not cathartic; sometimes the end of a relationship is just a fizzle, doesn’t even make it to a fullburn. It might be unsatisfying, but it happens every day. It’s not always a pivotal point; sometimes it’s just a point.

Taehyung stares at the object in his palm. “That’s it?” he asks in disbelief. “We’re breaking up?”

“What else is there to do?”

“You’re not even gonna ask me anything? Who she was, how it started, how long it’s been going on?”

The other morning, Sohee had asked you to elaborate after you told her what happened, but there was just not that much to tell. You were there. He brought someone else home. End of story.

It was enough for Sohee to call him every name in the book and curse his entire bloodline though.

You suppose that’s a reasonable reaction. Taehyung cheated. You never thought he was a person capable of doing that. Three years of your life, down the drain. There’s nothing left to save.

“Okay,” you shrug tiredly, like you’re just having a casual and dull conversation about the weather. “Who was she? How did it start? How long has it been going on?”

Your name comes out of his mouth, sounding like a scoff. “Ask it like you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it,” you say. “What difference does it make? Knowing doesn’t change the fact that you still cheated on me. You know what I’ve been through and you still fucked it up. You did the worst thing you could ever do to me.”

“Fuck, I know that!” he groans, throwing his hands up. “I messed up badly, and I’m sorry. Y/N, I’m so fucking sorry. I will never deny that what I did wasn’t wrong. But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re to blame for this too? You never want to admit that it could be your fault too.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me. I keep having to put up with your baggage.” Then he shuts right up, barely even makes it through the last syllable before he’s squeezing his eyes shut for a second, clearly realizing that out of all the things he could’ve said, that was grossly out of line. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean th-”

And now you’re getting angry for the wrong reasons.

“You cheated but somehow it’s my fault, right?” you snap. “Boohoo. Sorry that you’ve had to put up with me all these years. I’m such a burden, right? Fuck you, Taehyung.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“I think you should leave.”

You think it’s the steel in your voice as you say this that makes him stop arguing.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer. You’re someone who tears up when you see stray dogs, who cries alongside the fictional characters in your favorite show. And yet, as you watch your own fiance leave…

The door clicks shut as he exits your life, but everything he said stays behind, clings to your walls and festers like mold.

The second you step onto the floor, everyone grows quiet. Lively chatter turns into hushed whispers. People go back to making their morning coffee, side-eyeing each other in a way that’s not meant to be very subtle.

You quietly make your way to your desk, all the while feeling the nosy pairs of eyes on you as you walk. You don’t know how word got out, but you were sure that everyone would know eventually. You just didn’t expect it’d be this soon. Sohee would never do that to you, and you highly doubt that Taehyung would go around broadcasting his infidelity.

As you set your stuff down, you make eye contact with the new intern who sits a few spots away from you. You haven’t had the chance to talk to her much, but she’s a nice girl. She gives you a small smile in greeting, and even though you know she doesn’t mean to pity you, you can still see it in her eyes.

A minute later, Sohee comes up to you. “Hey, babe,” she says, leaning on your desk with two plastic cups in her hands. One iced latte and one mango smoothie. She puts the yellow-colored beverage down and nudges it toward you, a little lackluster and unlike her usual playful self.

“Thanks,” you say, taking the smoothie with a smile, commenting, “Interesting morning so far. Never thought I’d ever be the subject of office gossip.”

“Yeah, about that. Do you know who was Taehyung’s… uhm… y’know?”

It’s okay. She can say it. You can handle it.

You already feel nothing, and there’s nothing you can even do to rectify it. Might as well lean into it, right?

Or maybe you should just go to therapy.

“No,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to know.”

“Well, uhm, now that the whole office knows, I think you should hear this from me first…” Sohee bites her bottom lip as she gauges your reaction. When you only sigh and give her the go-ahead, she continues, “It was Yura from Marketing.”

“What?”

“Yura from Marketing. You know the one. Brought muffins for the whole office on her first day? A little too bubbly for my taste. But yeah, she was at work the other day and suddenly burst into tears at, like, 10AM, and that’s how everybody found out.”

Of course. Even though people here are surrounded by celebrity gossip on the daily, nothing beats the good old-fashioned office affair. Why bother with celebrity gossip when you have front row seats to live drama unfolding ten feet away?

You take a sip of your smoothie, swallowing down the inkling of irritation that tickles the back of your throat. “Well,” you say, “I’m glad the downfall of my relationship is like a circus animal for them to gawk at. Can’t wait until they move onto the next big thing.”

“Honestly, it might blow over sooner than you think. The Love Doctor is back today.”

“What?” Your ears perk up at the mention of his name, glancing up at her in surprise as you put your drink down. “Doesn’t he work at the Paris office?”

“He used to work here. We joined around the same time. Then he transferred to Paris a few years ago. Nobody even knows why. One day he just upped and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’d be here? I didn’t have time t-”

“Calm down, sweetcheeks, I only just found out,” Sohee chuckles, holding a finger against your mouth to shush you. “We all know you used to have a major lady boner for him.”

“I do not.” You don’t even know what he looks like, just his name when it appears in the byline of an article. “I admire him.”

Which is true, you do admire him. He’s your own version of a freaking rockstar. Though, you have to admit that Love Doctor is a huge cliche of a nickname, and significantly reduces the scope of his brilliance. The way that man writes makes it seem like he’s experienced lifetimes and is now here to pass on his wisdom.

He doesn’t feel like a mere magazine writer like yourself. There’s something in his words that turns you inside out, makes you experience things that you’ve never even gone through. He flows like poetry, and leaves you stunned every time.

Okay, maybe you do have a lady boner, but for his brain.

Which… is probably something you should never say out loud.

Someone walks in then, a man you’ve never seen before. He looks around your age, if not a couple of years older. He bypasses all of the other desks without saying anything, not a single Hi or Good morning. He doesn’t look like the type to speak if not spoken to.

Then he walks over to where you and Sohee sit, and sets his bag on the empty desk next to yours.

You look at Sohee, and she just shrugs.

It can’t be him. Surely, it’s not…?

“Min Yoongi,” she says in greeting.

Oh, it is.

He spares her a nod before he looks away again. “Sohee.”

Is that the Parisian way? Is that how people normally greet someone they haven’t seen in years? Sohee and him were only colleagues, but still, the least you could do is pretend.

You’re not one to judge a book by its cover, but c’mon, seriously? Were you wrong for expecting the person who writes about love in its most raw and beautiful form to look… not like Grumpy Cat personified? It makes you even more fucking intimidated. And he’s going to be sitting next to you? The fuck?

As he sits down, you blink, still a bit dazed, not sure how to process this. Sohee gently pushes you forward, which makes you nearly stumble right into him. You turn to her with a glare, but she just motions to him, mouthing ‘Go on.’

You clear your throat, wiping your hand on your pants before you hold it out. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, trying to sound as professional as you can. “I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

He glances at you, and reaches out to meet your outstretched hand in a barely-there handshake. “Yoongi.”

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mikatoonist · 6 months

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nocovember 2023 week 2… monsters 😱

monsters inc au time!! this week was either angst or monsters and you can tell which one i chose 😅

credits to the talented @zuureleena for nocovember!

explanation under the cut…

Week 2 of Nocovember and this week, I chose the monster prompt! So, one of my favourite movies are Monsters Inc and Monsters University, they’re the first thing I think of when it comes to monsters. And it got me thinking… what if Total Drama NoCo Monsters Inc AU?

Wild- I never would’ve thought of making a Monsters Inc for Total Drama lmaoooo but here it is! So, Noah and Cody both work at Monsters Incorporated on the same floor. They’re both scare assistants (basically like Mike Wazowski’s role in the movie)! Noah is an assistant to Owen, who is a fun loving and excitable scarer and Cody is an assistant to Izzy, who is full of surprises and a very talented scarer.

This is so random lmaooo the other prompt for this week was angst but I’m not very good at drawing angsty situations 😭 So, I chose monsters and uh.. well, this is very silly and goofy but yeah!

Also, here’s another random NoCo story from years ago…. When I first got into the online fandom and started shipping NoCo, I got heavily involved with a bunch of other fans of the ship. I remember someone asking a question going ‘anyone else here gay or bi etc who ships them?’ and at the time, I was like ‘I’m straight but fully supportive of LGBT!‘ ….. anyways, how times have changed lol, not straight anymore 😅

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total-drama-brainrot · 27 days

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World Tour Assistant Noah AU (where he is always an assistant):

In London (instead of Duncan and Gwen kissing), Noah gives Alejandro the grossest and messiest kiss ever, to try grossing out Alejandro into stop flirting with him... But ironically, Alejandro enjoys the kiss out of spite!

Noah: Alejandro, that kiss was a mistake.

Alejandro: A sexy mistake.

Noah: No, just a regular mistake.

Alejandro: You'll eventually come crawling back to 'the eel'.

Noah: The only kind of crawling I'm doing to you is away... from!

Alejandro: Mi Amor, you're obviously confused and charmed. 💙

Anon, the mental image of Noah dragging Alejandro into the messiest, grossest kiss imaginable to try and curb Alejandro's interest in him is sending me.

Because Alejandro literally Frenches a pineapple on international television in canon. You can't convince me that he wouldn't unironically enjoy the grossest tongue wrestling sessions imaginable. Noah's plan to make himself as undesirable as humanly possible backfires because the person he's trying to gross out is A Bit Of A Freak and actually enjoys it.

Which leads me to imagining Alejandro trailing after assistant Noah like a lovesick puppy, since Noah's shown at least an inkling of reciprocated attraction- at least in Alejandro's eyes. After all, why else would Noah practically drag him into the confessional and make out sloppy style with him? There's sparks there.

Here's me pushing my affection-starved Alejandro agenda. The moment someone he cares about gives him even a scrap of positive attention he'd be hooked. Noah practically dug his own grave with that kiss.

And Noah's just staunchly denying it all the while, trying to justify his actions as his misguided attempt to repel Alejandro, and no one would believe him. What kind of idiot thinks kissing the guy who's been flirting non-stop with him is going to do anything but egg him on?

Noah, apparently. He's stubborn in his defence despite literally no one believing him. The only person who's convinced Noah's not into Alejandro is Noah himself. (He's delusional.) I would like to know what sort of mental gymnastics Noah went through to think the kiss was a good idea, though.

And then Alejandro using any excuse to bring up the kiss, and consequently flirt with him? Golden, love it. Everything about this scenario is just really funny.

#confession time: i find all kinds of kissing gross. maybe that's the aro in me speaking but it's true.#something about swapping spit is just inherently disgusting to me. that's what makes it so funny.#anyway noah gives alejandro the wettest most revulsive kiss imaginable and alejandro pulls out a proposal ring #total drama #td alejandro #td noah #alenoah #assistant noah au #others' ideas #replies

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froznwater · 8 months

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more on potential assistant noah au i think that the fic (if i were to get rid of the MAL plot early like i want) would be Alenoah trying to win, yes, but also uncovering secrets of Total drama

exploring chris's house, watching footage, finding paperwork, etc.

#alenoah #assistant noah #au

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nerdraging4point0 · 2 months

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Power Play // Chapter Two // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV.

Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

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The Uber screeches to a halt outside the fortress-like walls of the Rooks' practice facility, and I scramble out clutching my visitor's pass. After a few tense moments convincing the stone-faced security guard I'm not a crazed fan, the gates swing open. I stride up to the front doors, emblazoned with the iconic blood-red chess piece flanked by two onyx knights - the Santa Monica Rooks logo.

Though they only joined the NHL a couple years back, the scrappy expansion team has already captured the hearts of LA hockey fans - including my dad, former assistant coach for the Kings. When the Rooks came calling, offering him the head coach position, we were over the moon. Now I never miss a game even if it’s just on the TV. I know the players by name, the chants by heart. This team is family.

And today, I got a glimpse behind the curtain.

The frosty air envelops me as soon as I step foot in the rink, sending a shiver down my spine despite my long sleeves. I cross my arms, bracing against the chill. As the team takes the ice to warm up, my eyes follow their every move with a nostalgic fondness. The sound of skates carving into the fresh sheet, the slap of pucks hitting boards - it all washes over me like a warm blanket. I let out a contented sigh, transported back to simpler times when I would gaze upon this familiar scene as a wide-eyed kid.

The players glide across the ice, circling each other in a blur of black and red during their warm-up laps. Legs churned in rhythmic strides as they maneuvered the puck through the cones. The only sounds were blades carving arcs and pucks slapping plastic. Every movement was executed with precision—their concentration evident as they tuned out the world, zeroed in on their drills. At the other end, some stretch and joke around, loose and relaxed. The heavy guitar riffs of AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" blast through the speakers—dad's preference, as always. I can't help but smile. This ice, this team, this music...it all feels like home.

From my spot high in the stands, I admire my dad's confident presence on the bench, his gaze intent as he surveys the players before him. Wearing the team's fleece zip up over his well-muscled frame, the dark fabric accentuating his rugged features. A beanie sat jauntily atop his artfully graying locks, complementing his trademark goatee, still as impeccably groomed as ever. He exuded an air of casual confidence - the easy charisma of a man who gets things done with style. Arms folded, he exchanges nods with Jack, leaning in to examine the clipboard that holds the secrets to today's strategy. Never did make it to the big leagues, but he just loved the chess match, the cat and mouse of setting up the perfect play. The thrill of that last second stretch pass springing the winger for a breakaway. The subtle joking with the refs, giving as good as he got. Win or lose, we lived for that locker room camaraderie. Yeah, he was born to bleed the colors, even if the pros weren't in the cards.

I make my way down towards the gleaming glass, the barrier between me and the warriors below, scanning the colorful jerseys for familiar names. There's number 42, Sanchez, the promising new center we acquired in the off-season. And McClain, number 18, our stalwart in goal, broad-shouldered whether in pads or street clothes.

Two skilled players glided smoothly across the ice, giving each other a friendly shoulder nudge and helmet tap as brothers in arms. Ruffilo sported jersey #22, zipping down the right wing with nimble speed and agility, always quick to jump on a scoring chance. Alongside him skated Sebastian, wearing #13. As right defenseman, he partnered on the blueline with the venerable Karlsson (#62). Together they formed the league's dream defensive pairing, scouted eagerly by rival teams year after year, yet steadfastly loyal to their coach through it all.

"Sarah!" My dad's voice thunders across the rink, making me jolt in surprise. I bolt toward him, nearly slipping over my feet in my excitement. Jack grabs my arm to steady me as we scramble into the box where Dad waits with open arms. I fling myself at him, breathing in the comforting scents of cinnamon and Old Spice that mean home. Though it's been months, as soon as his strong arms fold around me, no time has passed at all. I cling to him, my protector and hero, never wanting to let go.

“You're just in time,” he says with a glint in his eye. ‘We were just about to do a practice run. See how the team looks for the game tomorrow night.”

The sharp trill of the coach's whistle pierces the rink, all eyes snapping to attention. "Alright team, gather round!" Jack bellows, his commanding voice echoing off the cold walls. "We've got a big game tomorrow and it's time to show me what you've got!"

The players scramble into position with new urgency, skates carving trenches into the ice. McClain slams into the net, face set with determination. Sanders follows suit on the opposite end, glove hand twitching with anticipation. Sebastian and Karlsson take their posts, sticks poised for battle.

"Let's run this play again - I want to see crisp passes and quick shots. And remember..." Jack pauses, scanning the tense faces around him. "Leave it all on the ice."

He blows the whistle once more. A flurry of movement erupts as the puck drops, skates tearing over the frozen surface. Shouts fill the frigid air as the team throws themselves into their practice, driven by the coach's steely presence and the promise of tomorrow's game.

The players are focused as they glide across the ice, passing the puck back and forth. Karlsson taps his stick, signaling to Sebastian. They move into position, ready to intercept the other team's attack. The center charges towards the goal, but Karlsson swoops in, poking the puck away. It slides to Sebastian who spins and dishes it off to Sanchez. Sanchez pivots and streaks towards the other end, driving for a counterattack. The scrimmage is intense as the teammates coordinate, aiming to sharpen their skills. Their precise passes and defensive maneuvers showcase their dedication during this hard-fought practice.

Sanchez fires a blistering shot that beats Sanders, the puck rocketing into the net. Sanchez triumphantly throws his stick skyward, but Coach quickly shoots him a warning glare - "One goal does not win a game." As Sanchez skates by, his piercing hazel eyes scan over me for a brief minute, before nodding to my dad. All business, Coach commands respect on the ice. My gaze follows him to position, where I notice Sebastian also watching from his position, momentarily distracted until Karlsson’s stick slap grabs his attention. The intensity radiates as both teams bear down, hungry for the next goal.

The players scramble up and down the ice, sticks clacking as they chase the puck. "Stay in your lane, winger!" Coach bellows, face red. "Defense, keep that blue line secure!" Sanchez barrels through, shoving past his own teammates to get to the net. Coach fumes. That hothead is sparking fights even among his own guys. "Sanchez! Cool it or you're benched!" Coach yells. Sanchez seethes, eyes blazing beneath his helmet. That punk better listen, or this practice will get out of control fast.

Sebastian swoops in and makes a clutch block, gliding on his skates backwards around the net and back into position as smooth as butter. Celebrating with a hearty stick-slap with Karlsson as they criss-cross on their way back to their spots. Just another day at the rink for these puck-stopping pros.

“Karlsson and Sebastian are the league's top players right now,” my dad says, gesturing to the dynamic duo. “I’m fortunate to have them both.”

He goes on to provide insight into each player. Karlsson, a skilled Swede, transferred here a year ago and immediately found chemistry with Sebastian. As we discuss the roster, my dad analyzes each player's strengths and weaknesses. Ruffilo, for example, is quick and agile but weaker skating left. Sanchez has blazing speed but his ego can be a liability. Meanwhile, Sanders rarely sees ice time as McClain's backup. He remains quiet and reserved as a result.

My dad's wealth of knowledge about the team is clear as he gives me an in-depth scouting report on the players - their stats, records, backgrounds, and areas for improvement. His insightful descriptions provide a comprehensive view of the roster.

The boys look exhausted as they skate back to the bench, chests heaving as they try to catch their breath. Jack blows the whistle, signaling the end of the scrimmage. I take in their flushed cheeks and panting faces glistening with sweat. Sanders' sandy blonde hair is matted to his forehead, hazel eyes glazed over with fatigue. Sanchez wipes his brow, dark hair slick against his olive skin that contrasts sharply with his black and red jersey. Golden eyes meet mine briefly before glancing away. McClain rakes a hand through his unruly copper curls, mopped haphazardly on his head. Forest green eyes are ringed with dark circles beneath a smattering of freckles on his cheeks.

Ruffilo and Karlsson skate over to the bench, exhausted. Ruffilo’s shoulder-length black hair, normally pulled back in a tidy bun, is a mess of flyaways and frizz from his helmet. His piercing blue eyes stand out against his tan, sweaty face. Karlsson tosses his helmet aside, releasing his ash blonde hair which is only half pulled back after a grueling workout. Sweat drips down his forehead as he tries to catch his breath.

i'm so caught up staring at the team that I don't even notice Sebastian glide up next to me. He stops hard, ice shavings dancing around his skates. With his helmet off, I finally get a good look at his face. His dark brown hair falls loosely across his cheeks. His eyes are a soft brown too, and his slender nose and exotic bone structure give him an alluring look I can't place. His full lips are parted as he catches his breath, a barely-there mustache and goatee framing them. I'm transfixed, taking in every detail of his handsome face. Hockey has never been so distracting.

"Alright boys, tomorrow we face the toughest team in the league. They've got size, they've got skill. But you know what we've got? Heart. More heart than any team out there. When you step on that ice tomorrow, I want you to remember who we are. We're the Rooks. We never back down from a challenge. We never give up when things get tough. We pour our souls into this game because we love it. We play for each other, as brothers. Tomorrow when that puck drops, I want you to leave it all out there. Skate hard. Hit hard. Play your hearts out, men. I believe in each and every one of you. Now hit the showers and I will see you bright and early tomorrow."

The players glided by, tapping fists with my dad as they headed off the ice. But my eyes stayed locked on Sebastian. He leaned off the boards and skated backward, gaze still holding mine even as he spun and drifted after his teammates toward the locker room. There was something magnetic about him - an intensity that pulled me in and wouldn't let go.

My dad wrapped his strong arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. "What do ya say we grab some dinner and chat?" he asked with a smile. I clung to his waist as we strolled out of the chilly rink, past the rows of locker rooms, to his cozy office. He rifled through papers on his cluttered desk, gathering his things before we headed out.

"Dad, why'd you want me to come down here today?" I asked. "You said you had something important to tell me."

He paused, keys in hand. "Let's talk over dinner," he replied, his eyes downcast.

I pressed further. "Why not now? Just tell me."

At that, my dad's shoulders slumped. His face fell. I knew then that this was big news - maybe as big as when he and Mom divorced.

"Well," he began slowly, "Jack's niece is going on maternity leave. We had another one lined up, but he took a position elsewhere. We're in a real bind trying to find a replacement nurse on such short notice to help care for the players."

He looked at me hopefully. I could tell this was difficult for him to ask, but nurse or not, I was ready to support my dad no matter what.

Noah's POV

The pads hit the floor with a thud as I stumbled back to the locker room, feeling about as graceful as a newborn giraffe. The boys were already going on about the coach's daughter, the new eye candy on the bench. Fiery red hair that melted into platinum strands, curves that went on for days - she had the boys drooling before she even opened her mouth.

"Dibs!" Sanders called out, grinning. "Maybe she can give me some one-on-one coaching after practice."

"You couldn't catch her if she was standing still, man," Nick laughed, peeling off his sweaty jersey.

"Let McClain take a shot," Pierce chuckled. "Red on red - I like those odds."

McClain just smiled and tossed his gear in his locker. Yeah, she was a distraction all right. Hard not to stare when she was sitting there looking like that. Had the boys fumbling more than usual out there today. But I gotta keep my focus. Eyes on the puck at all times, even with a smokeshow like her watching from the stands.

I fling my stick and helmet into my locker, peeling off my sweaty jersey and pads. Jolly plops down on the bench behind me, the team still chattering away about her.

"You know how it is, bro. The ladies, they always want a piece of the Jolly." He waggles his eyebrows and flexes, his accent making it sound more ridiculous.

I grab my towel and crack it against his back. "Yeah, yeah, keep dreamin' there, stud."

We were all a bunch of goofs when Naomi first started working here, even though she was Jack's niece. We'd give her a hard time and chirp her whenever we got the chance. But once we found out she was married and had been around for a few months, we eased off and let her be. I was sure this chick would be the same, if she stuck around. She didn’t seem like the hockey type.

The steam embraces me as I step into the showers, washing the sweat from my aching body. But the heat isn't enough to penetrate my sore muscles, throbbing from another grueling practice. My mind races, already on the ice for tomorrow's season opener on home ice. I know once I'm out there, stick in hand, the roar of the crowd drowning everything else out, the nerves will fade away. But right now, they're killing me. I close my eyes, let the hot water massage my shoulders, and visualize our victory.

We were so close last season - just two wins away. But this year, this is our year. I'm not settling for anything less.

That is, as long as Sanchez can get his head in the game. Don't get me wrong, the guy's got skills. But that ego of his just grinds my gears, you know? He's always showboating out on the ice when he should be focusing on the play.

It's gonna cause problems, I just know it. I gotta get him to tone it down and be a team player. Otherwise we can kiss that cup goodbye again. And I'll be damned if I let that happen. This is our time. I can taste it.

Nothing can distract me from that, not even her.

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