#best sport worse league | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddielations · 4 months

Text

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

#what if they’re both secretly famous and clueless about each other #this is called ‘Upstaged’#part two soon #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #baseball player steve harrington #famous steve harrington #meet cute #saved your life trope #famous eddie munson #rueswriting

3K notes · View notes

pers1st · 1 month

Text

remembered

pairing: alexia putellas x reader

notes: this is so short ugh i hate this tbh but oh well, little angsty, mentions of injuries

You remembered every single trophy, every single victory, every loss, every draw, every team, every teammate, as you sat on the countertop of your kitchen, watching your girlfriend hum along to the Rosalía song playing over your speaker system as she stirred the pasta you had been cooking for a while now. Alexia was still wearing the sweats she’d worn on the plane back from the most recent champions league match, one that you had, once again, sat out for. With an ACL injury over two years ago and not a single minute back on the pitch due to the never ending list of injuries added to your knee since, you had sat out for a lot of matches. Every one of your teammates knew that it took a toll on you, but more than anyone, Alexia knew. She had seen you the very night of your injury, although it had happened during an international break. She had seen you cry and thrash in her arms, she had seen you when you’d gone into surgery and when you’d come out of it, she had seen every step of your recovery, had been present for every moment another doctor shattered your heart, she had picked up every broken piece of it and attempted her best to hold you together when you couldn’t. Still, you felt nervous to tell her. Still, you didn’t know how she’d react- whether she’d understand.

Alexia bled for football in a way few did - it was her whole life.

“What’s on your mind?”, she hummed, lifting her gaze from the stove as she looked over at you fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt that hung over your body.

You shook your head.

“Not now, Ale”, you sighed. You had a plan for this. You had laid out every step of telling her how you’d announce the end of your career soon. However, one thing you hadn’t taken into account were your emotions, and how easily your girlfriend of five years could read them.

“You’re scaring me, amor. What’s wrong?”, she asked, her tone filled with worry and her eyebrows furrowed as she let the wooden spoon simmer in the pot, instead taking a hold of your hands, immediately stopping your fidgeting.

“It has nothing to do with you, Ale. Promise”, you murmured, taking a deep breath in to avoid your tears from falling, knowing that your girlfriend would abandon the food within seconds and force the words out of your mouth before you suffocated on them. But you had prepared Alexia’s favorite pasta with so much effort, wanting to welcome her back with something to make up for your lack of presence with the team recently, that you didn’t know whether you could take it.

“I don’t know why, but that’s making me feel worse”, she chuckled, squeezing your hands as she tried to find your gaze.

“I’ll tell you when we eat, okay?”, you asked, wanting to find a common ground with her and immediately, she nodded. That seemed to calm you, as you breathed a sigh of relief. Alexia understood that it was a serious matter, yet she didn’t push you. Maybe she’d understand that your knee had simply had enough. Maybe she’d understand that you had had enough.

The cartilage in your knee had, at one point, been down to only twenty percent, and through two very painful surgeries, the doctors of your club had been sure you’d be able to be integrated into the sport again. Yet, you had sought another conversation with one of the doctors who’d stayed behind in Barcelona, in the hopes of having some clearance on whether you actually would, at one point, play football again. The man had been insistent that this was a conversation to be held while more people, most importantly, your girlfriend was present, yet you had insisted on answers and had been told the one thing no athlete ever wanted to hear.

It’s very unlikely. If I were you, I wouldn’t push for it.

“All done, no?”, Alexia asked as she lifted one of the noodles from the pot for you to taste, gently placing it in your open mouth. You hissed at the heat in your mouth, yet you nodded.

“Sí”, you agreed, hopping from the countertop as best as you could, to take the plates from the table you’d already sat when she’d texted you she was on her way home.

After plating up the food, you took Alexia’s phone, shushing the woman’s protests as you changed the music to Taylor Swift.

“My monologue, my music”, you smiled, filling your girlfriend’s glass with water as you sat down across from her, taking a deep breath.

“Mi amor, you’re scaring me”, Alexia huffed, but you shook your head no, poking at your food for a second.

“I’m going to retire, Ale”, you started, missing how Alexia’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she searched for words. Your gaze was fixated on your plate, not knowing whether you could look at her right now, whether you could take her disappointment. You had been through so much in the past few months (really, it had been years), your girlfriend’s disappointment wasn’t something you were particularly searching for. Still, you knew you would have to accept it as she remained silent.

“I saw the doctor yesterday. He said if he was me, he wouldn’t push it.”

At that, you looked up at her, practically seeing her wires spin.

“Screw him, bebita. He’s not you, he’s not an athlete, he’s not-”

“Ale, I’m tired”, you interrupted her, a single tear rolling down your cheek. You knew she wouldn’t understand.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. Every time I go again, it ends in pain and more time out and- it’s too much. I’m done, Ale. I’m done fighting”, you said in one breath, dropping your fork onto your plate as you pushed your chair back.

“Wait, amor!”, she exclaimed, and made her way over to you within seconds. You didn’t know whether she was going to yell at you, silently disapprove or try to change your mind, but you didn’t have the energy to fight her embrace as she tightened her arms around you, letting your head fall into the crook of her neck as more tears escaped your eyes.

“It's okay, mi vida. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

Well, you certainly hadn’t expected that- her words in your ear only encouraged you to cry harder, to finally let go of all the weight on your shoulders as you sobbed into her shoulder. You didn’t have any way to fight the tears anymore, completely letting your guard down as you cried and cried. It seemed like hours, and if you were any more stable emotionally, you might’ve cursed yourself for letting the food get calmed, but if your girlfriend minded, she didn’t say as she wordlessly led you to the couch after what seemed like hours.

“Are you sure, bebita? I just- I don’t want you to regret it”, Alexia sighed, your hands in hers as she gently stroked your thumb.

“Sí, Ale. I’m sure. It’s going to suck, but I can’t cling onto nothing anymore. I need something to do other than wait for a potential comeback”, you spoke, your voice hoarse from all of the crying.

“Have you thought about this? Like, for long enough to be sure?”

You nodded. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since the follow up appointment of my surgery”, you huffed in an answer.

“Amor, why didn’t you tell me?”, Alexia asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she held your hands, still intertwined with hers, closer to her heart. You could feel it beat through her hoodie.

“I didn’t think you would understand”, you mumbled, suddenly insecure about what you had been so confident in before. Alexia was one of the most empathetic, most understanding people you’d ever met- and although it had taken her a while to get the gist of your knee problems, and hours to research every surgery in detail, you doubted yourself now- if anyone understood the toll this has taken on you, it’d be the person who had been there for you through it all.

“Mi vida, I don’t know what it’s like, for you. But I’ve seen you in pain for such a long time. I just want you to be happy, and I thought that you would be happy once you were back on the pitch. That’s why I pushed you. But if that’s not what you want, I understand. After everything that you’ve been through, I will respect whatever you want to do. And if you don’t want to play anymore, we’ll figure something else out”, she spoke, her voice firm yet gentle at the same time. You couldn’t help but lean into her at her words, the weight being lifted off your chest at once.

“Thank you, Ale. Thank you so, so much”, you whispered into her shoulder, letting her hug you once more.

“Of course, bebita. I’ll always have your back. You’ve had an amazing career, and you’ll be remembered for that, forever. No matter what you do next, I know it’ll be great.”

After a short amount of contentment, Alexia spoke again.

“Although, you might give Jana and Bruna a heart attack”, she laughed.

“I know. I don’t know how the team will take it, in general”, you gave back. This was another thing that had been cursing your mind for a while now. After a great time with Lyon, you had finally come to Barcelona three years ago, wanting nothing more than to finally close the distance between you and Alexia. With that, however, you had found a new family, and people who meant more to you than you could ever explain. Despite your foreignness, and your teammates from the US constantly making fun of you whenever they could find a video of you attempting to speak Spanish, this group of women had taken you in and transformed this city into what you hoped to be your forever home. Even when for the better part of your stay in Barcelona, you had been sidelined, on the injury bench or in an operating room.

“Well, it’s not like you’ll be gone, no? You’ll stay here, with Barça.”

“Sí, I will. But I won’t be at training, won’t be at every match. It will be different”, you huffed. You had no clue what you would do after your career- an after-football never having existed in your mind, but you knew that you wanted it to have something to do with the sport.

“They'll still support you. They all love you, especially the younger ones. They look up to you so much, mi vida. It will be okay.”

You believed Alexia. Because if your girlfriend was anything other than caring, gentle, and empathetic, she was also honest. If she said it would be okay, it would be okay. Despite the fact that you had no idea what you were going to do with your life, you knew that as long as you had Alexia, it would be okay.

#alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #barca femeni #spain wnt #barca femeni x reader #barca x reader #barca women

406 notes · View notes

dkisms · 9 months

Text

Warrior

Wonwoo x afab!reader /// enemies to lovers /// 5k words /// smut

You’ve hated Wonwoo’s guts for most of your esports career. He’s always targeted you, and you’ve had enough.

If one person on planet Earth hates Jeon Wonwoo, it’s you. In fact, that’s how you feel right now, with the stupid little grin on his stupid face looking at you from across the stage, brow arched at you. He’s teasing you for sure, and the bright red ‘LOSE’ on the stage above you does absolutely nothing to change that.

You honestly had no idea when Wonwoo started to act like this. As a woman on an esports team for League, you’ve always been careful of every move you’ve made. Two years ago, you joined ASTAR, much to the disappointment of many in the world. In fact, Wonwoo had been kind to you previously, going on stream many times to express how women belonged in the sport, and how he was excited to game with you.

At least, that was what you thought.

Now, every single time you play, either practice or in comp, your screen stains black and white, now matter what you do. Every move? Wonwoo’s there. Switch to top? So is he. At this point, even your team starts to feel bad for you. In any regular match against any other team, no one can beat your Seraphine (or fiddlesticks, if feeling frisky).

Your team captain gets up before you, patting your head. As much as it seems comforting, the steam coming from your ears and the blood boiling in your veins has yet to cease. You exhale loudly, getting up to follow your team. The next ten minutes go by in a blur, with the manager asking the team about the matches while heading to the bus, barely a blink coming from your face.

Even when you got to your base, all you could do was trudge to your dorm, and get in bed, wallowing in silence. The notification you got on your phone made you feel even worse, seeing your teammates go to stream and talk about the matches. To them, it wasn’t a bad loss, with Wonwoo’s team, JACKL, being number one in the country, and the easy contender to worlds, but it didn’t make the loss any easier.

Your phone dinged with a text from your friend. ‘He’s talking about you.’ Was all it read, and it took everything in your soul to not throw the phone across the room, opting to open Wonwoo’s stream instead.

“We don’t bash other teams.” Was the only thing you heard as the stream loaded out of the advertisement, Wonwoo spinning back and forth on his chair as he read his comments.

“Are they as good as my team? No. JACKL is number one for a reason right now. However, they’re one of the best teams I’ve played against in years. Their mid showed mine how you can’t screw around in a match and expect them to not crush you into the dirt. My support had to pretty much solo heal them. Not great, but he’s gonna work on it.”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, brushing his newly silver hair out of his face. He chuckled at a few comments that came in, eyeing one from an international fan.

“Yes, I did go after their support. They rely on her too much on bot lane, and can’t protect her. If they leave her open, it’s my job to go after-”

You killed the stream immediately after, the familiar anger coming back out. ‘Fuck Jeon Wonwoo, and fuck his team,’ you thought, throwing your phone onto the bed, and heading over to your computer, turning it on. As much as bed therapy helps, the fury in your bones could only be solved by crushing as many people as physically possible in the game, and enjoying the cheez-its you had left. Unfortunately for you, the stupid game hates you, and you nearly just decided to evaporate from the planet entirely seeing your team.

JAKCL_EveryWonwoo was on your team.

Jeon Wonwoo was on your fucking team!

It seems he noticed as well, as the chat started to roll through his messages at an alarming rate.

‘Boba???? ASTAR_BobA???’

‘Good to see you again, BobA!’

‘Are you my support??? This is crazy’

‘Yes, I’m your support. Now hurry and pick’ You wrote back, cooling down. The game loaded in, and you picked the route farthest away from Wonwoo. If you had to play with him, you refused to be near him only if necessary, and maybe let him die a couple times. Maybe.

As much as you hated Wonwoo, he was fucking good. Way too good at this damn game, with the amount of times he saved your ass. The bot lane was pretty much useless, leading you to have to take over, and he pretty much took over the south side of the jungle with you, killing as many as he could. The pretty 15/2/18 was growing by the second on your leaderboard, and his 28/6/13 made the two of you look like you were dancing with each other on the field as you finished the match, a ghost of a grin on your face. It was quickly removed, however, when you got a message outside of the match.

JACKL_EveryWonwoo has sent you an invitation.

Against every bone in your body screaming at you not to accept, you had to. What better way to learn how he plays than to play with him? Right? You even checked, he’s not streaming. You let out a sigh, making sure your headset mic was working, and joined the group.

“I wasn’t too sure you’d accept.” Wonwoo teased, the grin in his voice easily apparent.

“Had to get my mic.” You said, watching him change to a casual lobby.

“Mmm,” He said, hitting the queue. “You did good today.”

“Sure,” You said, clear in your voice that you didn’t want to talk about it. “So, why invite me?”

“I’m trying to show you that your team is taking advantage of you.” Wonwoo said, picking his character with you, and choosing to go bot lane.

“Listen, I don’t need you bashing my team, okay? We did what we could.” You snapped.

“I’m not bashing them. Yet. But I promise, you’re worth more than you think.” He said, shutting up as the game started.

While Wonwoo wasn’t… great at bot lane, he definitely kept up. In fact, he was shockingly right about your team. He was taking bullets and arrows with every match you played, and for hours, had you questioning your team’s plays. At four A.M., when he ended the matches, he sat with you in silence as you looked over match replays.

“Listen, don’t take it to heart. Just understand you might have to rework some stuff. I know your coach is retiring, so next year, you can work with the new one to find out about plays, okay?” He said.

“Yeah,” you said, voice dry. “I’m hopping off. Have a good night.”

“Night.”

——///——

You groaned at the buzzing of your phone, reaching over to grab it, and rubbing your eyes. The yell you let out seeing the 250+ notifications decorating your screen could have woken up anyone sleeping. JACKL_EveryWonwoo follows you, tagged you in a video, tagged you in a picture… the notifications kept going late into the morning, clearly after you had fallen asleep. The first was a picture of your characters emoting, one you had sent to him as a joke. Every video after that was VOD’s of every match you had, and the comments were endless.

‘She’s actually so good. Does her team just suck?’

‘He works well with her. If I was JACKL, I’d be calculating offers.’

‘I knew he was going after her for a reason. Man’s knew she held the team together’

As much as you could keep reading the comments to inflate your ego, you were NOT excited for the upcoming PR nightmare, especially with the lineups for the upcoming tournament to be announced this week. Knowing the industry, your team would be out in seconds with them Matching ASTAR and JACKL.

Your phone ringing broke you from your spiraling anxiety, with your friend’s picture on screen. You pressed the accept button, only for a piercing scream to nearly blow your ear drums.

“What. The. Fuck?!” Avia shrieked. “Why are you all over his Twitter?! I thought you hated him!”

“I do,” You said, exasperated. “He wanted to show me my team sucked at protecting me when I was vital to the lineup. He did.”

“I know, ASTAR is getting lamblasted on every media site, it’s hilarious. Your teammates are… trying to defend themselves,” She said, as you heard a knock on the door.

You ended the call, and opened your door to see your manager, who requested a statement about the play from the previous game. After a quick tweet, most of the internet was cooling off.

“So, we have a practice match,” Your manager said, pulling out a clipboard, as he walked with you downstairs to the rest of the group, already playing. “JACKL.”

You turned, startled, pausing before you sat down. “Is that really okay? After the Twitter BS?”

“We have no choice. We planned this weeks ago,” the manager said, and you just sat quietly, while they set up the custom matches.

At the start of the match, you knew it was going to be horrible. If your team was a little turned around during the first tournament, then this was like a tornado going off. In fact, it pissed you off more when Wonwoo immediately killed you. Actually, you barely remember a time you were alive, if any. At the end of the match, you were so pissed off, you shut yourself into your own room, pissed.

—-///—-

The moment the tournament matchups were announced a few days later, the stress in your body melted. Thankfully, JACKL were in the other side of the bracket, arguably harder than yours. Thankfully, this seemed to have also motivated your team, and within a few practice matches, they were back in order.

“Wake up!” The manager called, hopping onto the bus. “First match of the playoffs. I didn’t want to talk about this here, but I believe this is the best place for it. Listen… the company is gonna have to make changes if we don’t win. They don’t know if they want to keep everyone, or if they want to dissolve. Either way, you’ll be contacted shortly about your contract.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Seriously?!” Her mid laner said. “Dude- I can’t fucking believe this shit.”

The rest of the drive was relative silence from the group. Many wondered where they’d go, and you were no exception. The skin around your nails was raw by the the time you got to your locker room, filled with an ice cold fear of your future. The manager tried to comfort everyone as much as he could, up until your team took the stage.

The ice hardened into a lump in your stomach, one made even worse as you looked around at the crowd. Signs were decorating the audience, and you nearly choked on your own spit, seeing JACKL front row.

“Why the fuck are they here?” The top lane called over the headsets, your team agreeing.

“No fucking clue,” You said. “Watching us, I guess? To be fair, the news of a team revamp got put out. Maybe seeing if they can steal anyone.”

The midlaner just nodded in response, as the signal for the match to start was activated, and bans were chosen quickly.

“Going Senna,” you called, setting up a protect strategy.

The game was one of the longest you’ve had, knowing how intense team emotions were. After the first victory round, you ran up and down the hall stairs to gain some energy, and the second match was a breeze. Against your wishes, however, after your matches, you were stuck front row watching JACKL.

“They’re fucking good,” Your manager said, eyeing the plays. It was annoying, and to be honest, seemed a little showy.

At the end of the first match, the smirk Wonwoo gave you was enough to make you glare, knowing exactly what he was playing at. He was showing off at this point, and trying to get your attention. With the amount of times he had looked over in your direction, you were starting to get pissed off, and the manager was starting to notice.

“You really made him mad, hm? Play a practice match or something?”

“No. He’s fucking irritating, though.” You said, and your coach perked up.

“It reminds me of my neighbor’s kid. Idiot thought being an ass was his way of flirting. Y’know, messing with your crush…?” He trailed off, seeing your face. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t even,” You said, getting up. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

As you wandered into the player halls, after refusing to use the public restroom seeing the lines, you were sharply stopped by Jeon Wonwoo running into you.

“Ah, the golden girl! I wanted to see you today.” He said, a grin lighting up his face.

“Can I help you?” You asked, with pursed lips.

“Yeah. You see my match? It was pretty fucking good.” He said, teasing. “Y’know, if you joined my team, you’d get the same treatment. Princess and all.”

Your eyes narrowed as you scoffed. “As if, Jeon Wonwoo. Let me be straight with you. I don’t like you. You bash my time, try to steal me from my group, and post matches without my permission, which, mind you, had audio. If I said anything iffy, it would be a PR nightmare. Not only that, but it already was! My team had to make a statement twice. Now, I don’t know why the hell you keep messing with me, but I’ve had enough, seriously. I’m unable to do my job in any sense of the word. I know my teammates aren’t doing great, they’re at retirement age and are injured half the time, but I don’t want to hear about it. Enough.” You snapped, finally feeling some weight off your chest. All Wonwoo could do was stand silently, swallowing roughly at the words, as you sped walked off in another direction, away from him.

—-////—-

A week later, you finished your second match. To be honest, your conversation with Wonwoo had lit a fire, making you push to prove your team wasn’t useless, in anyone’s eyes. You dropped your headset onto the table, quickly exiting the stage, not wanting to talk to anyone, until you were stopped by the manager, and another woman.

“Hi. I’m Sasha, I work for ASTAR’s main offices. I wanted to talk to you about your work on the team.” She said, and the both of you quickly headed into a small meeting room.

“Now, I understand you’ve played with us for a year, at most. Unfortunately, you’ve seen us quite vulnerable this year,” She said, laughing. “I’ll be honest with you. Your bottom laner and jungler are retiring, and I’m only resigning you and the mid laner, if you’re willing. I already have next year’s team set, and contracts sent out for future prospects. I’m willing to offer you a salary increase, if you’ll have it.”

“I’d love to rejoin.” You said, and she quickly slid a contract, letting you read over it. “I’ve sent it to the company’s lawyers, so you can sign within the week. We won’t announce it until after the tournament ends.”

“Yes ma’am,” You said, smiling at the paper.

At least Jeon Wonwoo can’t fuck this up.

—-////—-

Two weeks later, you sat in the locker room, biting your nails, watching a random band play on the tv before the tournament final was to go. Your team had taken the cake on the left side of the bracket, but that left you with only one team left to go, and you weren’t sure if you even had a chance.

JACKL.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself. You were oddly calm going into it, knowing you still had a future with the team, but were still stressed. As you took a final sip of your drink, you headed to the stage, only to be met with Wonwoo’s piercing eyes, and a shit eating grin.

Well, fuck. There goes your screen time, was all you could think, scowling at him, and opting to set up. The keyboard glowed as you clicked away, checking the mouse, and remained silent as the announcers droned on about the game, and every playstyle, the crowd roaring at the game. You picked your character after the bans, quickly making it onto the field, and the bottom lane.

“We gotta be careful this round,” You said, moving back and forth. “They’re heavy on movement. If you see something, say something.”

“Got it,” Your midlaner said, as the game quickly began.

As the game stretched out, Wonwoo was noticeably gone. Before you could even note he must have listened to you, your screen turned gray, and you looked to see Wonwoo had killed you. Looking over to him across the stage, he didn’t return your stare, only smiling at the game, as you huffed.

The first match carried deep into a match against the dragons, but as much as you hoped you could keep up, Wonwoo stole nearly every dragon on the field, leading your team to play a losing game of catch up, until the match ended. 1-0 rang out on every screen as the crowd cheered for the other team, and you quickly headed off stage to recoup with your team.

The second match was a turnover, however, as your toplane deployed a new strategy of killing Wonwoo from a distance before he could ever get to you, leading your group to come out on top in this match, and for you to grin brightly.

“One left, boys!” You called, high fiving your team, and sticking your tongue out at Wonwoo, who could only shake his head at your antics.

The arena darkened with lights, as you sat down at your computer. The technology around you glowed with light, and your fingers almost felt as if they were pulsing with energy, as you made your final round bans and picks.

As you started the round, you opted to play as safe as possible in the start, gaining money. At one point, you were shocked, as you managed to kill Wonwoo, who eyed you from across the arena, daring you to try again. Again, you did.

If when you played together previously, it looked like dancing, this looked like war. You didn’t even care about the majority of the others, knowing they’d be fine, instead opting to go after the star player on the team. You and your bot lane pushed against Wonwoo, quickly taking him down time after time, until the first dragon appeared, and your own jungler lost it to their mid lane.

Around this time, you were positive the game was over. Wonwoo quickly turned the match on your head, giving back everything you were given, and then some. The match was going downhill, and nothing could stop them, as they approached your base, the familiar black and white screen turning red, as you lost the final match.

You let out a shaky breath, watching JACKL jump around in victory, and heading over to give you all a handshake, and your team quickly exited the stage, heading back to the locker room. A few members quickly left, but you opted to take a few interviews about your team, to help your fans stay calmer, promising victory next year.

After what felt like an eternity of interviews and pictures, you notice quite a few members of JACKL as they greet you, heading back home to their friends and family. You said goodbye to the others in your team, returning to the quiet locker room to grab your bag, only turning around at the sound of the door softly closing, seeing Wonwoo.

“Congrats,” You said, honestly. “As fucking annoying as it is to not be able to play much, you did your best.”

“Thank you.” Wonwoo said.

“But seriously? Pretty fucking annoying to be killed all the time. Don’t do it again next year.” You said, heading to the door, only for him to block it right in front of you.

“I know it’s annoying. Got a little feel of it today from you, to be honest.”

“Then why the hell do you do it so much?” You asked, exasperated.

“Honestly?” Wonwoo said, eyes scanning your face, the silence growing. “You’re really fucking hot when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m… sorry?” You asked, eyes blinking at him, bag falling off your shoulder.

Wonwoo moved closer to you, making you back up against the door. He let out a soft sigh, scanning your face, as he leaned in towards you.

“The first match I played against you, your teammate got you killed. I saw you curse him out over and over, and the angrier you got, I liked it,” he said, fixing your hair. “So, ever since then, I couldn’t help but piss you off.”

“Are- are you serious? You have to be joki-” You were cut off as Wonwoo kissed you quickly to shut you up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was joking.” He said, ears red.

For a second, everything clicked into place. The first match you ever had with JACKL should have been a tell from the beginning. Your bot lane had made a stupid decision, not checking the grass next to you before letting you go in, and had instantly got you and him killed. You had been pissed beyond belief after he had promised he checked everything, and you had reamed him out for an hour over it during and after the game. Wonwoo had been watching you, in shock, and you thought he was being annoying when he killed you again, and suddenly started killing you every chance he got.

Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t being a dick.

No, it turns out he was just horny.

Something in your brain fizzled out, and you honestly couldn’t think anymore, as you reached up behind his neck, pulling him back down to meet your lips. Wonwoo tasted like the stupidly sweet lollipops he always ate before a match, and always used to tease you with. You supposed they held a different meaning to you, now, as his tongue licked your lips to kiss you deeper. His hands pulled your waist closer, dangerously close to your ass.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before he had completely given in to grab your ass, muttering for you to jump. You hopped straight up, and wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried the two of you from the doorway over to the couch on the other side of the room, dumping the two of you onto it.

“Hey,” Wonwoo said, hands on your hips, looking more at your lips than your eyes. “If you want to stop here, I’ll get it. But you’ve gotta let me know now.”

“Jeon Wonwoo, if you stop now, I’ll actually hate you for the rest of my life.” You said, and Wonwoo laughed, reaching up to take off his glasses, and setting them on a nearby table, before leaning down to kiss you again.

The grip on your thighs felt like fire, and you couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he moved to attach his lips to your neck, sucking a spot where your jaw meets your neck. You felt painfully aware of the heat growing in your stomach, letting your fingers move to his hair to lightly tug, keeping yourself grounded.

Wonwoo’s hips pressed into yours, and his fingers moved from your hips up your shirt. You lifted up your back as he yanked your shirt off, leaning back to take his off. You oogled him for a good minute, opting to run your fingers down his abs.

“Enjoying the view?” Wonwoo teased, and you nodded, playfully licking your lips.

“Who said video game nerds can’t be fit?” You teased.

He chose to ignore your comments, instead moving to remove your bra, and tossing it somewhere else in the room.

“Good thing I locked the fucking door.” He said, mouth moving to kiss down your neck, to your chest.

The moment his lips met your nipple, you let out a breathy moan. His hand met the waistband of your shorts, and he gave you a second before moving further, hand reaching to cover your mound.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t like it.” He said, and seconds later, his fingers were plunging into your core.

The two fingers within you felt like heaven, while his thumb moved in circular ministrations along your sensitive bud. The heat grew in your belly with every movement, and Wonwoo was forced to cover your mouth.

“Listen, I’m all for you being loud any other time, but I don’t want to get caught.” Wonwoo said. “Be quiet, or I’ll have to quiet you.” He warned, and you nodded.

The fogginess in your brain grew, and heat coiled in your belly, letting out a warning whimper to Wonwoo, who quickly removed his hand, licking at his fingers. You would’ve thought that was the hottest thing ever, except for the empty feeling in your belly making you irritated instead.

“What the fuck, Wonwoo.” You said, irritated.

“I’ll let you come on my fingers any day, but I’d rather the first time you do be with me in you.” He said, and your face reddened at the raunchy statement coming from his lips.

Instead of letting you say anything, Wonwoo lifted your hips to remove your shorts and underwear in one fell swoop, eyeing your soaked core, as he removed the rest of his clothes.

“Hate me this, hate me that, but you’re soaked,” Wonwoo teased, pulling your hips closer to his. “Last time to back out, mortal enemy.”

“Wonwoo, please,” You said, long past annoyed, and more desperate to come. “I will find anyone in this building if you don’t fuck me now.”

His eyes glinted at the challenge, and slowly pushed into your core. He let out a groan as he bottomed out, feeling you pulse around him. Once you gave the go ahead, Wonwoo began his slow movements in and out of your core, the sounds you made egging him on.

“Wonwoo, deeper, please.” You begged.

Wonwoo obliged to your begging, shifting your hips to hit deeper, and pulling you into a deep kiss to keep you quiet.

“Wonwoo, I’m so close, please don’t stop.” You begged in his ear.

The breathy moans in your ear weren’t doing anything to help the heat in your core, and the cord was threatening you, ready to snap. His hip movements grew sloppy as he moved to hold your hips in place, and one final thrust from Wonwoo had you seeing stars, and biting at Wonwoo’s hand over your mouth as you came, Wonwoo letting out a moan as he came, filling you. His body felt shaky as he pulled out of you, moving over to a table to grab a tissue, and cleaning up the mess before any of the couch stained.

He pulled on his clothes as you got up, looking around for your clothes, and he helped you get ready, in majority silence. Before you looked for your bag, however, he stopped you.

“I understand if I’ve turned you away from me from my shitty actions. To be honest, I’d probably feel the same, but I really do like you, and I mean it. I didn’t want to fuck you to take any advantage.” He said, nervous.

“Wonwoo, please, calm down. You may have been annoying, but you’re not a shit person. I know you didn’t hook up with me just to hook up,” You said, handing him his glasses to put on. “Um. I’m not terribly good at this, but I’d be willing to continue this… something, or whatever it is, if you want. Serious or not.” You said, and he beamed up at you, and you felt your heart squeeze.

He nodded, and grabbed your bag for you. “Let’s go, then.” He said, unlocking the door for you, and heading with you to your car.

—-////—-

The sucker in your mouth did nothing to calm your nerves, as you texted Wonwoo. After your escapade, you and him had a very private don’t-tell-anyone set up, not wanting anyone to fuck with the two of you. It worked for the better, as Wonwoo was able to sign with a new team with a big buck contract, even if it was going to be away from you. To be honest, you didn’t care about being public, and neither did he. Were you sometimes jealous of attention? Yes. Did the pictures and videos you saved from fans help? Also yes. To be fair, though, he was in your bed, not theirs, and it was victory enough.

The manager ran over to you to knock you out of your thoughts, gushing about the new team setup, and how the world wasn’t ready. Your message to Wonwoo remained on delivered as you spun in your chair, anxiety rising. To be honest, you were starting to get worried, as you stressed, as you tapped away mindlessly on your keyboard.

You sighed at the delivered on text, again, as you heard a ruckus growing in the entry of the dorms. Not dealing with that, you thought, until a hand on your chair stopped you from turning, and your sucker was ripped from your mouth. You turned to yell at whomever was next to you, only to freeze, seeing Wonwoo stick it into his mouth.

“What the fuck…?” You trailed off, as your manager came over.

“Oh! Glad you’re getting settled in, Wonwoo,” He said, and turned to you. “Our new jungler!”

You nodded to the manager in shock, and Wonwoo held a shit eating grin on his face as he stared at you the whole time, and winked at you. You slowly put your headset back on as the manager requested a quick game, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt Wonwoo touch your hand quickly, grinning at his screen, as the game started.

No, you didn’t hate Jeon Wonwoo, but he was absolutely going to be the death of you.

#jeon wonwoo imagines #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #☀️ writes

425 notes · View notes

ally-holmes · 11 months

Text

Volunteer | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

My Fanfic Masterlist | Multifandom

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Reader: no use of YN, reader is a doctor, no precise description of gender or physique of reader.

Summary: You were a volunteer for the soccer team Aaron Hotchner coaches. When you decide to bite the bullet and ask the man out, he rejects you in what you felt was a humiliating manner. As you're trying to get used to your new life without seeing Hotch every week, you get called to help with a hostage situation as they need a doctor on site. The BAU is there.

NOTE: The summary is awful but I had no idea what to say without making spoilers.

Content Warning: hurt/comfort, hostage situation, inaccurate medical procedures, inaccurate baby delivery situation, explicit labor, medical complications, and lots of blood. Again, highly inaccurate, don't come at me with your medical degrees, I'm a historian, not a doctor.

Words: 6695

Rating: Explicit (Look CW)

Volunteer | Oneshot

Soccer had always been an easy sport to introduce to children in the US, that's why Haley Hotchner played with her son at any given time since he was three. Spending his fourth birthday in hiding was tough for them and Aaron could see that. When Jack kept watching the same tape repeatedly, Aaron decided to sign his son into a soccer team.

Belonging to a team gave Jack another social group away from school and an understanding of teamwork and camaraderie. It was also the perfect excuse for Aaron to keep his phone away and focus solely on his son on the weekends. Naming it an excuse might seem inappropriate, but for Aaron, having a semi-structured schedule to drive his free time helped him to push the work aside, avoiding hyper-focusing on the paperwork he took from the bureau. His implication with the team drove the other parents to ask him to coach the team, a proposition that he accepted with the assistance of his best friend, David Rossi.

Things were fine overall.

Then you showed up one weekend with Jessica who introduced you as the volunteer who was going to take care of the children's health. Aaron did his best to control his microexpressions but the sparkling look Jessica gave him behind your back spoke volumes to him.

When Jessica Brooks told you about the infant soccer league you looked at her with an arched eyebrow. You've finally graduated from med school and work as a doctor in the ER of a hospital. After three years there, it felt like your own home and the staff you worked with were your family. Jessica had become a new addition to the hospital's cafeteria, and she was so approachable and extroverted that it was easy for her to bond with the other members of the personnel.

Of course, you knew about the tragedy that hit her family when her sister was murdered leaving a child behind, and you've met Jack on several occasions. Yet, you were unable to pin down the moment, the insinuation, or the interaction that made Jessica corner you at the end of your shift to ask you if you'd be interested in volunteering your medical abilities for her nephew's soccer team.

"It's mostly scratches or sprained ankles at its worse," she insisted. "A little bird had told me you ought to socialize away from the hospital. It will be great for you!"

"Jessica…"

"Listen, Jack's dad has accepted to be the team's coach, and although I know that it has been a ruse of the soccer moms to ogle him every Sunday morning, he's going to take it seriously. Not like, he's going to be focused on winning every single match. They don't even keep scores for that age group. What I mean is that Aaron is going to concentrate on making it fun for the children, but also safe, and his medical knowledge is limited."

"You just said it's mostly scratches and sprained ankles. You don't need a doctor for that."

"Come on!! It'll be fun!!"

"Are you trying to set me up with him or something?"

Jessica scoffed, "He's way too old for you. I highly doubt you find him anything else than stern and intimidating. However, there are younger single parents. All I'm saying is that you should spend time with people away from these walls."

You cave in, as might be expected.

Aaron Hotcher was stern and pretty much intimidating, but he was also an absolutely cute little thing with the kids, sexy, and interesting. His assistant, David Rossi, was approachable and found a way to involve you in his conversations with Hotchner.

You were eager to please as a volunteer. You were very nice to the children, who seemed to attach to you almost immediately, and the parents soon rooted for you when they knew you were a medical doctor. Your awkward smile when one of the parents told you about the weird rash that had appeared on his rear made Aaron giggle inside.

From the point of view of a profiler, he could tell you had terrible social skills that you tried very hard to overcome and improve. You were more comfortable with children than with adults, maybe because you've been hurt in the past, you may have some trust issues and second guess yourself often in social situations but never in your work. He was unable to see the classic narcissism noticeable in surgeons, instead, you had a compulsive professionalism while being warm and caring. Aaron also saw some nerdiness and geekiness in you that made his heart melt without permission.

"To think that I brushed her off when she asked me if I was trying to set her up…" Jessica's voice pulled him out of his analysis.

"Is this a setup?"

"God, no. Not an intentional one, at least. I was not expecting you two to check each other out like that."

"I did not check her out."

"Aaron, it's me. I may not be a profiler, but I know your looks. You like her already and I know that as you get to know her better, you're going to like her more and more."

"It won't happen."

"Tell yourself that."

And he did. He told himself that along with other things but when he caught your eyes lingering on him when you thought he wasn't looking he felt a boost of self-esteem. Talking to you was a treat he rarely indulged himself with. The worst thing he thought he could do was to lead you on to think he felt the same because then he would lose the restraint that prevented him from falling in love again. It was too soon. You were too young. The 'what if' list got longer and longer as months passed.

That's how, after a few months you ended up crushing hard on that man that Jessica assured you was too old for you. Oh, boy, you didn't care. After the practices and matches, you stayed with Hotch to clear the place of the things you'd used with Jack's playful help, and that's what drew you closer. You found his deadpan jokes hilarious. You lived for his small smirks or full-on laughs, the tiny movements his eyebrows made when he found something amusing, the light in his dark eyes when he looked at his son laughing about what you'd said or done. Being of assistance was your main goal for the weekends and your supervisor in the ER was more than glad to fix your schedule so you could have those moments for the soccer team.

At some point, you inevitably thought of yourself as a needy puppy when you found yourself being always the first to comply with any of Hotch's requests. Due to the lack of major injuries (or injuries in any way or form), you didn't have much to do with the team, therefore you ran errands like buying snacks, or bringing gallons of water… To be honest you would've driven all the way to San Francisco if Hotch and Dave had asked you to. It was embarrassing.

Now that you were facing a pissed-off Aaron Hotchner, you were regretting accepting Jessica's push six months ago.

Mulling over your feelings for the past few weeks, you've decided to approach him and ask him out on a date. Just some coffee, really, nothing fancy. He frowned; his eyes ran through you seeing things you were fighting to hide. Little did you know that Aaron felt at the edge of an abyss.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Aaron tersely told you, and when your eyes wandered between his looking for a longer explanation, his panic clouded his mind, and he must admit was gratuitously rude to you. "With my work consisting in profiling people, do you actually believe that your behavior had been unnoticed? I've tried to put some distance between us to avoid confusing you and apparently, it hadn't worked. I don't intend to be mean, but if your sole motivation to volunteer here is to spend time with me or look at me, I think it'll be better for all of us if you stopped coming here. We don't need a doctor, anyway. The most you've done has been cleaning Travis' wound when he fell on top of a tiny rock and his hand started bleeding.

"I am sure that you are great in your work," he slowly assured you, "but we don't need your skills here. I'm doing this to spend quality time with my son, and I cannot enjoy it if my attention is on your stalking behavior."

"Stalking?" You whispered confused.

"It's not the appropriate word. I'm sorry. Just… This is a safe space for the kids to have fun, and we, parents, are here because of that. You have no connection with any of them, not the children and not the adults."

You press your lips to avoid pouting. The last thing you wanted was to break in front of him after that awful humiliation. Handing him the cones you'd collected, you had nothing else to do there, and knowing just how unwanted your presence was prevented you from saying goodbye to Rossi and Jack as you usually did.

Aaron's grip on the cones hurt his hands as he followed you with his eyes, a storm breaking in his chest. When instead of going towards Dave and Jack you kept walking out of the field, the old profiler looked at him across the field with concerned eyes. He bowed his head in shame.

Hiding from Jessica at work was easy for you, at least for the first few days after the humiliation, but on Wednesday, you decided to bite the bullet and face her. After sharing some pleasantries, you smiled sadly at her before telling her what you actually wanted to say.

"I don't know if Hotch has told you, but I asked him out for a coffee. He rejected me, of course," you laughed self-depreciatingly. "Um… I'm going to quit volunteering on the soccer team. Could you make sure he understands it is because I cannot face him after how he did it, and not because I'm unable to stop stalking him?"

"He said you were stalking him?"

"Not exactly. He said I had stalking behavior, apparently. I didn't notice. I– I've been fighting very hard to act normal around him. I promise that if he had just rejected my advances I would've kept my volunteering. I mean, it would've been awkward but I really do enjoy being out there. He made it pretty clear that I've been making him uncomfortable, and that's something I can't gut. Um… So, yeah, that's that."

Hotchner did not have it that easy to hide from his sister-in-law. Jessica narrowed her eyes at him when he came back home from a long work trip in Texas. As he asked about Jack, worried that her sour mood had to do with something regarding his son, she sighed crossing her arms.

"You told her you felt stalked? Really?"

Understanding washed over him.

"I might've misused the word," Aaron took accountability for his mistake.

"I cannot believe you can be so dumb! Aaron, she likes you! And you like her too, don't try to lie to me."

"She's too young and–"

"You're scared. That is normal, but listen to me, you deserve to be happy again. I'm pretty sure that a doctor will understand your crazy schedule better than anyone else. Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"It's done. Forget about it."

Pressing her hands against her eyes, Jess tried to calm down her anger. "Fine. I'm going to leave you alone, just one thing, Aaron, you've hurt her pretty badly and if you don't fix your mistake soon, you're going to miss your opportunity. She's a nice person, and she deserves better than to be humiliated that way."

"It wasn't my intention."

"Just because there was no ill intention in your behavior, does not mean that you're innocent of the damage you've caused." Gathering her things, she headed out the door. "Oh, and by the way, she asked me to tell you that she won't be volunteering for the team anymore. Not because she's unable to stop stalking you, but because the way you're rejected her made her believe that her presence is unwelcome and makes you uncomfortable, so… Well done."

Aaron did not give much thought to that until the weekend rolled over and you weren't there. While the parents and guardians were concerned about your well-being, the children stubbornly refused to start without you on the field because in their minds you were an essential part of the team, just as the coach was. Dave caught him lost in his mind more than once, but he never said anything out loud.

Three weeks after leaving the soccer team you were still surprised at how much you missed it. Weaver gave you all the hours you asked for to work on the weekends in order to fill your mind with work instead of daydreaming about how much fun the kids must've been having. Jessica told you once that Travis had scratched his knees but refused treatment even from his dad as he cried calling for you. That touched your broken heart; knowing that the little ones appreciated your presence even if it was irrelevant meant so much to you.

That Sunday you'd been working since Saturday morning treating everything from mild intoxication to hardcore injuries. Adrenaline was still pumping in your veins as you tore the yellow gown off to deposit it in the bin with the gloves you just used on the car-crash patient that Coleen was taking to the OR. Cracking your neck, you grabbed your white coat from where you'd dropped it to attend to the emergency. Slipping it on top of your scrubs (a patient had vomited on you during the night which forced you to change clothes) you approached the admission desk.

"Got something for me, Jerry?"

"Take your pick," he pointed to the row of histories.

"That's not fair! How is it I cannot pick?" said a petulant voice next to you.

"Because you're a student, Natalie. Here, take this. Seems the patient needs sutures."

"That's all I'm doing. Sutures, sutures, sutures," she mumbled as she went to gather the patient.

That's when a known figure caught your eye in the waiting room. Frowning, you looked at the histories, finding two familiar names. With the documents in your arms, you cross the waiting room towards them.

David Rossi was nursing his injured arm against his chest, standing next to Aaron and Jack, who were seating in the waiting room. He saw you at the admissions desk looking through the histories before taking two of them and walking straight towards him. That's when he knew it had been a good idea to make Aaron drive them to this concrete hospital. Aaron's eyes were locked on his son's injury, therefore he tensed slightly when he heard your voice after so long.

"Why, good morning, Jack," you cheerfully greet the young child that's sitting in his father's lap, who was pressing a towel against his son's head. "Didn't you have a match today?"

"I got hurt," the boy pouted although you could see he was enduring the pain.

"Why won't you come with me? Come with us, Dave," the man nodded with a glint in his eyes.

You haven't even glanced at Aaron's face, afraid that you may compromise your patient's needs by remembering the humiliating rejection you've suffered.

When he gathered the courage to look at you, his heart clenched in need as, for the first time since he'd known you, your beautiful eyes never landed on him. Not even once.

With Jack seated on a bed in the ER, you removed the towel finding a small wound surrounded by dry blood. It was puffy and bluish. Rossi explained that Jack had passed out while on the field and he had launched to get him, failing, and hurting his wrist on the landing.

"Very well, Jack, I'm going to ask you to do something for me," you said putting your penlight away after looking at the response in his eyes. "I want you to touch your nose with your fingertips, then pull the arms as far away as you can, and touch your nose again," you demonstrated what you wanted and the boy did it without trouble. "Well done. Now follow my finger without moving your head. That's right… Very good, Jack. Give me your hands. Grab mine as hard as you can. Good. Now," you put your hands on top of his feet, "try to push my hands up. As hard as you can. There you go. Okay.

"I'll listen to your heart now." After that and checking his reflexes, you sat on a small stool by the bed and asked him a few questions to evaluate his mental state. He was shy at first, but then he started babbling coherently, which was a good sign. "Jack, did you feel bad before the match?"

The boy looked at his dad and at Rossi, "No."

"I might not be a profiler, but that seems like a lie to me. Do you want to try again?"

"I– I had a tummyache."

"When you went to the bathroom, was your poop very liquid?"

"Yeah…"

"You didn't tell your dad?" Jack shook his head, regretting it immediately. "Why not, sweetheart?"

"I want to spend time with him, but if he's the coach and I can't play, then I have to go with Aunt Jess or look from the sidelines. That's not fun."

"Perfectly understandable. Does your tummy hurt still? No? When was the last time you ate something?"

Opening the history, you scrabble and check several squares before facing Aaron Hotchner for the first time, pulling your most professional façade on. He was waiting, observing every single move with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I don't see any symptoms of concussion. Jack doesn't even react badly to the light when pointed directly at his eyes. I believe that he's caught the stomach bug that's been running among children for the last few weeks and he's dehydrated due to the diarrhea.

"I'm going to run some blood tests, just to be certain. Although the headwound is superficial I'm aware that you'll feel better if we take some X-rays. I'll give him some fluids, clean the wound, and he'll be free to go if the tests come back clear.

"Once at home, lots of liquids. Water, Gatorade… Bland food, the usual. Keep him awake at least until his bedtime, that way you'll be aware of something bad happening. It's not going to happen anything bad, though."

He nodded, unable to find his voice after feeling the way your eyes stabbed him. Aaron Hotchner made a life out of analyzing people and he could see how hard you were trying to stand composed in front of him, to hide how strongly he had hurt you.

"Now you, Dave," you palped his wrist and scrunched your nose. "It's not broken. I think it's dislocated. I'm going to send you to X-rays with Jack, that way you keep each other company, and we'll see what's the situation with your wrist before trying to put it in place. Any questions? None? Good. Haleh," you called the nurse, "blood tests and fluids for the little man. A round of X-rays for both of them."

"On it."

"Need some help!!" Carter yelled while running towards the entrance of the emergency where an ambulance was dropping an injured and bloody patient.

"I'll be back when the X-rays are done," you promised the three men before running for the second ambulance. "What do we have?"

As the paramedic was explaining the patient's situation, she started to code which made you copy one of Carter's most dramatic moves and jump on top of the gurney to start compressions as the paramedics kept pushing it toward box two.

"That's really cool," Jack whispered mesmerized by the display of action. Aaron caressed his son's head with love.

Time went by, busy as always in the ER so your hands were full with both complicated and easy cases. Rossi, Aaron, and Jack spent the time waiting for the X-rays before waiting in the ER again; it didn't annoy them much, and they understood how it worked. Overall, they were all aware that they would still be waiting for their turn if you hadn't been working that day and saw them in the waiting room.

You were exhausted when you saw the three men again. Haleh handed you the X-ray complaining about how rude the technicians were when overloaded with work. Greeting them again, you put Jack's rays on a light panel close by.

"Look, Jack. This is your head. Can you see these circles? Those are your eyes. Now, this is the side where you had hit your head. There's no trace of damage in the bone," you looked at Hotch to make your message clear. "I can see that the fluids bag is almost empty. That's a good sign. Blood tests came back clear as well. Jack is fine. As I said before, liquids and bland food until the stomach bug is over.

"Let's see Dave's hand now…" You changed the rays. Rossi's wrist had been dislocated, as you thought.

Getting ready the needed stuff for the cast before placing the wrist in place, you explained everything to Jack who watched your moves like a hawk. Using Rossi's distraction, you pull his hand, putting his bones in place. It hurt him, and he cursed under his breath so you gifted him with your most innocent smile.

"You need the cast to avoid hurting your wrist more. Be more careful, David."

"As you say, Doc."

Carter's voice calling for you prevented you from pointing out his age. You turned to see him pointing to the board. Right, your shift must've been over three hours ago. Thumbs up you wink at him before turning your attention to your patients once again.

"I'm going to put you in the cast while Jack's bag completely empties, and then you guys can leave. Sounds good?"

"Who is that?" Jack asked.

"Doctor Carter," you simply say, focusing on the cast.

"Is he your boyfriend?" the child insisted. Aaron tensed with his son's boldness.

"Nope."

"Jack, it's not nice to ask those questions," Hotch reprimanded, making him pout.

"I just want to understand why she's not coming anymore." That admission stabbed him right in the heart.

"I'm not coming because you don't need me, Jack," you smiled at him. Another stab clenched Hotch's chest, he'd told you that.

"But we want you there!! It's not the same without you."

"That's very sweet, but it doesn't change the situation. This is done. Haleh will take that out of you, Jack. Be good," you pointed to both of your patients, ignoring Aaron once again.

Leaving them behind, you approached the admission counter to fix the paperwork when Carter cornered you with his cheeky expression and half smile. You rolled your eyes, putting your arms up in surrender.

"Fine. Fine. I'm leaving. See? This is me leaving."

"You better get out of my ER before another ambulance comes by."

"Meany."

"Out."

Rossi hummed watching the interaction just as Aaron's jaw set in distaste. "Is that jealousy or envy?"

"Not now, Dave."

It didn't take you too long to get ready to leave the hospital, and just at the moment you were crossing the doors you saw an ambulance come to a halt. Standing on the tip of your toes, you try to take a good look at the patient but Carter gave you 'the look' and you gave up. You just wanted to keep yourself busy. It was lunchtime and although you wanted to eat, you didn't want to do it all alone in your small apartment.

Walking towards the bus stop, you pulled out your phone thinking about ordering from the Indian restaurant close to your place and picked it up on your way. With a sigh, you decided you were not that hungry anyway.

Once in their home after that long morning in the ER, Aaron tried to pry the real feelings from his son, who openly told him that yes, he missed you and that he thought that you two were going to date in the future.

"You smile way more when she's on the team, Daddy," he had told him.

His resolution was clear, he was going to confront you, take accountability for his mistake, and beg you for a chance. Work prevented him from doing it right away.

You didn't hear from the Hotchner men or David Rossi for the next few days, which you anticipated, but when Saturday rolled up you found yourself in an ambulance next to Doctor Carter and Nurse Patton running to attend a hostage situation.

The place is a grocery store. Hostages are pressed against its windows to prevent the shooters from having a visual of the suspect. There's a control area with local agents and the FBI, and as you're led there by an officer, you locked eyes with Aaron Hotchner. He seemed composed and focused, but the moment he saw you his frown deepened and his skin ashen.

The three of you were introduced to the agents and you let Carter take control of the situation. He's older than you, your superior, and he had proved his leadership countless times in the hospital.

"The unsub is desperate. He is a father who's seen his world crumbling in the last few months as social services threatened to take his children from him," Rossi explained to all of you.

"He's compassionate with other people but he won't hesitate to kill in order to keep the custody of his children. He has asked for a medical team as there's a wounded hostage and a pregnant woman in terrible pain," the agent introduced as Emily Prentiss continued.

"He is reckless. He's cornered and that makes him dangerous. Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him. Understand? He's volatile at this point and if he believes that you are the enemy, he will kill you on the spot." Although Hotchner's words were meant for the three of you, his eyes never left you for too long.

"Is there any plan?" Carter asked.

"He'll be distracted with you there. You just have to focus on doing your job. There's a CCTV system with video and audio that still work. We have eyes and ears on you."

"Fair enough. Patton, when we get in, you and I will attend to the wounded. You," Carter pointed at you, "go to the pregnant and check on the baby."

"Understood."

"Let's get you inside."

Following Agent Morgan to the end of the perimeter your heart quickened its beating rate pumping your blood faster through your veins boosted by the adrenaline raising in your system. The unsub, as the FBI called him, ordered the bunch of you to show that you weren't armed before allowing you to enter.

The man, in his late fifties but athletic, was sweating profusely. His eyes never focused on a spot for too long. His hands were running through his hair, drying his face, fidgeting anxiously. Saying that he was unstable was a huge misunderstanding. When Carter asked for his name, the man mumbled Eli almost unconsciously before cursing and aiming at the doctor with his gun claiming that they weren't there to talk to him.

Carter calmly explained his plan of action to Eli before proceeding. Patton and Carter found the wounded victim bleeding in abundance from a bullet wound in his thigh. As they worked fast and efficiently on it, Eli hovered over them with guilt written all over his face. The man kept promising that it had been an accident, that the gun had shot itself because the victim kept talking and talking. Carter deemed the wound not life-threatening itself as it hadn't pierced the artery; however, Eli wasn't sure how long it had been since the man was bleeding, which made the situation delicate still.

Meanwhile, you've approached the pregnant woman asking for her name with a soft calming smile on your face. Patty was focused enough to tell you that this was her first pregnancy, that she had gone to the grocery store craving pickles and peanut butter, and that she was in huge pain that had increased in the last few minutes. Putting on some gloves, you informed her that she needed a pelvic exam to see if everything was alright, but you started the exploration by touching her belly and auscultating both her chest and her belly in order to find a trace of the baby's heartbeat if possible. After that, you pulled up her dress finding a concerning hemorrhage.

"Alright, Patty. Can you tell me how often it hurts?" You removed her bloody underwear before proceeding to the exam and… "You're in labor."

"No. No. No. There's no way. It's early still. It's early."

"That makes your baby a bit impatient," you joked kindly.

The most important thing was that Patty remained as calm as possible, which wasn't much. After noticing how dilated she was, you found the baby's head ready to start its journey into the world. Then you palpated it. The umbilical cord was surrounding the baby's neck. As Patty started to scream you could feel the baby moving forward as she was pushing.

"No, Patty. Don't push."

"It hurts!"

"I know it does, but you can't push just yet. Mister Eli," you called for the unsub, "this woman is in labor and she needs a hospital."

"She's not leaving!!"

"I'm not making a suggestion, I'm stating a fact," you sternly answered piercing him with your determination. You weren't scared of him. "If this woman and her baby die here, it would be your fault."

Eli ran towards you pushing his gun to your forehead, you didn't even blink refusing to show weakness. "Then do your job."

"Oh, I'm going to. I'm not a miracle worker, though. And I need help."

Outside, in the control center, Aaron was losing his cool. On the inside, of course, he rarely broadcasts his emotions. Dave knew him well enough to put his castless hand on top of his friend's crossed arms to give him support.

"She's strong," whether it was a statement or a reminder, they didn't know.

The fact that you weren't cowering under Eli's aggressive behavior broke his resolve allowing two of the hostages on the windows to help you. One of them volunteered because she was a med student; she had been helping the wounded man before the arrival of the ambulance. You asked her to monitor Patty as the other volunteer helped you handing you whatever you needed at the moment.

Trying to calm down Patty, you winked at her as if saying that her condition wasn't as grave as you'd told the unsub. Focusing your senses on your hands, you tried to remove the umbilical cord from the baby's neck without hurting it or the mother. It took some time and deep breaths but in the end, you were able to move it around freeing the neck. Patty was close to collapse, sweaty and exhausted. You asked her to push with every contraction. Head out. Another push and there came the shoulders. Another big one and the baby was limp between your hands, blue and unresponsive. Clamping the cord, you cut it before depositing the infant on top of a bunch of towels the volunteer had gathered from the end of the store for you. You start the baby's reanimation.

"She's passed out," the med student told you anxiously.

Without stopping your compressions you saw Patty unconscious, bleeding way too much.

"Carter!!"

"I'm not done yet," he shot you a look across the place.

"Fuck… She hasn't expulsed the placenta yet, Carter."

"She has to go to a hospital," Carter spat to Eli.

"No one is leaving until they gave me my children back!!"

The newborn made a complaining sound before starting to cry. Taking a deep breath, you auscultated her to make sure that everything was fine. You wrapped her on the towels and handled her to the volunteer with the order of keeping her warm and to make sure that if she stopped breathing at any moment, you were called.

Turning your attention to Patty there wasn't much you could do at the moment. Her heart rate was decreasing, and she kept losing blood. There was a hospital a mile away, she could make it and they would be able to help her before it was too late.

"Under no circumstance try to approach him, antagonize him, or contradict him," Hotchner's words danced in your head as you got up from the floor peeling the damp gloves.

Fuck it.

"Are you happy now?" You spat at Eli. Carter's patient was receiving CPR uselessly.

"Don't move," Eli pointed his gun at you.

"You know? The officers out there told us that you were a compassionate man. That you just wanted your children back. I thought I could understand you then, you were just a father loving his children and wanting to be with them."

"Exactly!! I'm–"

"You're not," you calmly cut his outburst shocking him. "You're a disgusting piece of garbage. Did social services take your children? Well, if you behave out there just as half as you did here I'm surprised they didn't take them sooner."

"Shut up!!"

There was a commotion outside when Aaron grabbed his gun and headed towards the perimeter, Morgan and Rossi caught him before he could even take a step away from them. Dave took the gun out of his grip.

"What's wrong with you?" Morgan demanded.

"She's going to get herself killed!"

"I know this is tricky for you, but you can't just break protocol, Aaron."

"Dave, she's inside and–"

"She's giving us an opening," Reid's absent voice ran through them. "Look, he's so focused on her and their argument that we can approach the store and take him without him noticing."

After a moment of studying the situation, Hotch took his gun again and nodded. "Let's get ready."

They put on the earpieces that kept reproducing the conversation that was taking place inside the store in order to give them the correct tempo.

"Look at what you've done," you pressed. Your voice was low and stern, completely calm as you kept approaching him cornering him against the counter of the store without him noticing. "A woman that still had time to become a mother, is now dying on the floor because of you. A man is dead because of you."

"It was an accident. I– The gun–"

"They could've lived if you had left them to leave to a hospital. Compassionate, they said," you snorted in mockery. "You're just a selfish bastard that would kill his own children if they disobeyed."

"That's not true!! Not true. I never touched them. I– I'm a good man."

"You're a murderer. Funny thing how you assumed your children aren't here yet because the police won't take them, but you know the truth, don't you? They don't want to have anything to do with you."

"No!"

"They know what you are and they don't want to be with you."

It was fast. One second Eli was an anxious and sweaty mess moving from side to side with unfocussed attention, and the next he was ready to shoot you between the eyes. However, your change was just as fast. One second you were approaching him slowly, and the next you hit him in the face with your elbow in a perfect move. Eli lost his balance falling face-first to the floor. You kicked the gun away before he grabbed you, pulling you underneath him. He punched you in the face before Carter hooked his head with his arm tearing him away from you. The door burst open and the FBI took Eli away.

In the mess that was taking the unsub away from the store, checking on all the hostages, and guiding the EMT to the injured, Aaron was unable to take a proper look at you which made him feel antsy.

With Patty and her baby in an ambulance and all the hostages safe, except for the wounded man that had perished, Hotchner approached you. His stern demeanor hardened his set jaw and frowning brow.

"We had video and audio from the inside. What you did was reckless. What were you thinking? Did you not pay any attention to what I had to say before you got in? Eli Marsh could've–"

"I did my job, Agent Hotchner. I'm a doctor and my job is to help people in need. My patient was losing blood and she needed a hospital, so I got her out of there. I'd do it again if needed."

Before he could say something else, Rossi called for you to make your statement.

Aaron saw you leaving with steady feet and felt his chest puff with pride at how brave you'd been. Dave's look in the distance made him take a deep breath and handle the situation as the Unit Chief he was; he needed to clear his mind.

Back at the office, the team dispersed to complete their paperwork. He had no idea how long he'd been surrounded by papers to fulfill, but as he was writing his statement, his mind wandered away, and the images of you confronting and insulting a volatile unsub with such a strong stance and calm tone assaulted him.

A soft know in his office door pulled him away from that helpless memory. David Rossi observed him with those profiler eyes.

"Yes?"

"Stop being this stupid, Aaron. Go to her."

"I'm not done."

"There's no rush. Plus, Morgan and I will take care of all the paperwork that doesn't need your direct participation."

Looking out of his window to the bullpen he saw his whole team looking back at him. They all knew.

"Go." His friend insisted.

Despite the dangerous situation and nerve-wracking job, you had to perform that day, you went back to your hospital to check in with your bosses. Weaver gave you, Carter, and Patton the rest of the day off as well as the day after that. Patton left immediately, but Carter and you procrastinated for almost two hours in the staff room talking about the day.

When Carter decided he had energy enough to go home, he offered you a ride and you gratefully accepted. Heading out of the ER door, it took you a couple of glances to acknowledge that the silhouette you were seeing was actually there and not a side effect of the stressful day you'd had.

"Go ahead," you told Carter. He looked between the man and you as the distance shortened. He didn't seem pleased with leaving you alone but did it nonetheless. "Agent Hotchner," you greeted him. "Is there anything else I had to do with the case today?"

Shying away, Hotch fixed his tie, "This isn't an official visit. I just– Are you hungry?"

"That depends. Why are you asking?"

"I want to buy you dinner."

"Why?"

You weren't going to make it easy for him and when he noticed he smiled slightly. "Because I like you and I've been an asshole lately and today I– I was terrified when I saw you come down from the ambulance. I'm not ready to have you out of my sight."

"That sounds concerning."

"I'm sorry about what I said when you asked me out. I– I pushed you away because I wasn't sure about how long I could keep my distance. I wasn't fair and I know it. This doesn't have to lead to anything, but…"

"Nothing fancy, though."

Smiling more broadly, Aaron nodded. "Nothing fancy," he promised making a gesture towards his car.

The end.

#criminal minds #cm #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch #fem reader #aaron hotchner x reader #dr john carter #er #fanfic #fanfiction #hurt/comfort

452 notes · View notes

39oa · 1 year

Text

(nonsensical hrpf data exercise) degree centrality graphing & other archive insights

intro/prior work

hello 🙇‍♀️ i'm not sure this post will make any kind of sense at all, but i love analyzing ao3 data and i especially find it fascinating in the realm of sports/hrpf because of the amount of player- and team-related attributes that offer dimensionality to fandom analysis when examined in parallel with archive metrics. i've already kind of done hrpf overviews on two separate occasions over the past year or so, but my method of collection differed in each instance and also always gave me new things to chew on and potentially explore, such as expanding on the link between player talent and shippability and whether high-draft picks have more fic written for them on average.

i most recently examined player data based on aggregated relationship counts since 2022, but this was a limited snapshot meant to piece together recent ficdom trends (see top ships since 01/01/22) and not be representative of fandom overall. basically, things i want to visualize/talk about now are:

hockey is so widespread as a sports fandom because there are 32 teams in the league, which when compared to a community like f1 makes it difficult to succinctly summarize primary relationships for. there is no self-contained grid of 20 drivers that remains generally fixed within a season, where every move in/out of that "roster" is highly reported upon and instrumental to fandom makeup, but instead a more amorphous network of malleable rosters featuring high-variance cascading orders of character visibility; in short, the difference between the most and least popular driver in f1 fandom is not the same as the difference between sidney crosby and that one ahl lifer who was called up to your 4th line two months ago because your team is utterly decimated and gunning for bedard.

Still: because rosters are so malleable and trades happen with some amount of frequency, and because hockey is still an "insular" ecosystem in terms of geographic accessibility and junior-age development (for better or worse; mostly for worse, but that's neither here nor there), players intrinsically have a low degree of separation between one another, whether it be as teammates now or as friends growing up in the ohl, ntdp, etc. i therefore wanted to take that a step further and look at it through fic metrics especially: can we use a summary of ficdom's real, tangible output and visualize it through a similar network? (+ where and how does that network differ from player connections in practice?)

back to the impact of draft pick # and assessments of talent relative to popularity, i also wanted to look at the most "successful" ships in ficdom from this network and evaluate the different distributions and impacts of their respective attributes. are certain player positions more popular? which nationalities are the most commonly shipped?

etc. But let's just get into it.

process

getting any kind of information from a 60%-locked fandom on ao3 is a nightmare and introduces a myriad of data-collecting limitations, so i do feel it important to disclaim that what i present in this post functions more in the realm of Approximate Interpretation and Potential Correlation than any actual 100% objective representation of fandom metrics.

a perceived limitation i have with character tagging metrics on ao3 is that they don't exactly reflect shippability; that is, if q.hughes is tagged as a character in a n.hischier/j.hughes fic, it gets attributed to his character tag but doesn't actually say anything about how many Relationship Fics exist for him on a whole. my best solution for this was essentially uncovering most of a player's relationships and summing their individual fic counts to create an approximate # of "relationship fics" for each player. so any kind of shippability graph going forward will use that metric.

i used ao3's relationship tag search and filtered by canonical in the men's hockey rpf fandom and only pulled relationship* fics ("/" instead of "&") with a min. of 20 works. ao3's counts are... Not the most accurate, so my filtering may have fudged some things around or missed a few pairings on the cusp, which again is why all the visuals here are not meant to show Everything in the most exact manner but function more so as a "general overview" of ficdom. although i did doublecheck the ship counts so the numbers themselves are accurate as of time of collection.

(*i excluded wag ships, reader ships, threesomes to make my life easier although i know this affects numbers for certain players, hc/gm ships, and any otherwise non-NHL Player ship. for ex., this eliminated anna kasterova/evgeni malkin, tyler brown/tyler seguin, and kyle dubas/william nylander, just to name a few)

all ship data was collected march 16, 2023.

PART 1. SC87 ship networking

when i first began this exercise i tried graphing ships for all the first-overall picks from 2003-2022 because i wanted to get an overarching sense of their connections. however, doing so made me realize that sidney crosby was by and far the most-connected node in the graph (and basically all hrpf in general) with a degree of 11, and that he was centering one huge component to which only two ships failed to connect (op/kj and slaf/xhekaj). basically:

so then i was like, right! let me instead use sidney crosby as my sole starting node, map out all ships with 20+ works from him specifically, take the players he connects to and map out their corresponding ships (excluding sid) and just keep iterating until i basically reach a final child node. through this, i yielded 112 ships and 98 unique players, with my final connecting node coming 9 degrees of separation away through brady tkachuk ↔ tim stützle/quinn hughes. unfortunately i can't actually host this little code snippet anywhere lol but i also wrote an input to check the pathways between any two players which was kind of fun:

here is the actual network graph with colors from automatically generated clustering, which doesn't really mean much but i thought was one nice way of presenting it. the edge width refers to the sum of fics for each ship and the node size refers to the degree, or number of ships, for each player.

i then also joined my player set with a dataset that included draft year, drafted team, position, etc... and through that color-coded the graph with the team each player was originally drafted to (i always struggle between using current team and draft team because which one matters more is super contextual, but... using draft team made my life easier this time so i hope it's still interesting.) here i only included colors for 13 teams that had 3+ players each:

→ [full-size graph]

we can do a bit more analysis based on this specific sidcros network, like which players are the "most-shipped" or overviewing cross-team shipping tendencies:

but! of course, not ALL big hrpf ships lead back to sc87. using him as a central node essentially just helped me filter out excess "noise" when searching for relationship tags on ao3, because now i could exclude anyone connected to him at all (note: the relationship fics from my set equaled upward of 19,000 works, accounting for 60.4% of the entire men's hockey rpf archive) and hit other significant tags more efficiently.

through this method, i singled out a new set of 76 ships and 134 unique players (notice the significant decrease in overlap), which i then combined with my sid ships to create one massive set of Hockey Ships With Over 20+ Works On Ao3 that i could analyze holistically. no idea if this makes any sense but bear with me:

PART 2. general ship insights

i won't bore people with endlessly listing out ship rankings but here's the previous top chart with the new ships slotted in:

now for some overall player analysis!

first i wanted to look at how attributes like draft round, nationality, and position (F/D/G) are represented in the player set.

the nationality distribution is pretty close to all active nhl players this season, so there aren't major disparities there. however, the vast majority of players 1) were drafted in the first round and 2) are mostly forwards, with the forwards also seemingly reflecting the general philosophy of faster development/higher recent-round representation. we can take this overview a step further and actually examine the fic averages for each characteristic as a proxy for measuring shippability/ficdom popularity.

first, i scatterplotted all players by their draft pick and number of fic to (try and) show the heavy skew toward top picks (inspired by the gar draft pick value curve and other similar plots). this is... well, limited in many ways, and if i had an actually adequately large dataset i could specifically plot averages per distinct pick number and try to present something there, but the problem is that a lot of these later pick numbers only have like one player so there's way too much variance LOL.

but just for the sake of this exercise i excluded j.benn as an outlier and grouped fic averages by round (left below). again, noting the sample sizes, let's just say that first rounders on average seem to have the most fic written about them, even if it's not a particularly shocking insight. we can also try creating a histogram for "shippability" by draft year, binning here for every 2 years, to see which draft years appear to have had the most success (right below). note the peaks around 2005 and 2015, aka the sc87 and cm97 ~Generational Years~ 🤔

i've also been interested in figuring out which positions are commonly preferred—since centers are so often the faces of a franchise and are essentially the most sought-after position, and since goalies occupy a positionally static role/are less oriented toward contact (and the presumed homoeroticness thereof) in the way skaters are, is that reflected in the fic metrics as well? turns out: yes.

some ship analysis

learning more about player data in a vacuum is fun, but we also have all of this relationship data that lets us examine how different characteristics interact with each other, which is meaningful as well! for example, we know that forwards are heavily represented in the dataset, but is center4center the most common combination? or is there love for a franchise center and his beloved winger or the team's dependable 1d?

(fought for my life trying to figure out how to map this properly so please accept a horrible bar chart instead) as it turns out, the most common combination is centers/wingers, followed afterward by centers/centers. i don't know whether this really means much to me because i'd like to dissect the combos even further (is C/C more often 1C 2C or cross-team rivalry 1C shipping? are C/W usually linemates? etc.) but 🤷‍♀️ here's a graph.

i also distributed ships by their nationality combination, displaying to the surprise of no one a heavy preference (a whopping 66.4%!) for north american-exclusive shipping. i also thought stacking by "draft year" (= averaging the draft year between both players for each ship) offered some interesting insight into usa4usa shipping having slightly younger representation. also i do think usa/germany being singlehandedly driven up this chart by one family is remarkable and hilarious LOL.

also in the realm of draft year analysis, i wanted to look at draft year differences and whether fandom preferences seem to lie by way of same-age-ish pairings and In-Class Bicycling so to speak. graphing ships by these differences spanned a range of 20 years, with the oldest "age" (draft) difference being 20 years between zdeno chara and charlie mcavoy. overall, of 175 ships with a drafted player, 60.5% were drafted within 2 years of each other (18.2% in the same draft), and only 5% had a draft difference of 10 or more years.

then, of those 32 ships drafted within the same year, i distributed their counts by year to see which draft classes featured the biggest in-class clusters, leading us again to the Famed Class of 2015:

closing thoughts

i'll stop here :saluting_face: something else i had on the agenda that i don't really know how to adequately explore with this dataset is basically stanley cup champion stuff, e.g. looking at players and ships and fic counts from winning teams and how/whether a sort of "winning bias" has been trending down as of late (see the relative success of ships from teams like phi/ana compared to tbl/stl)—temporal data is so particular and difficult to wrangle with ao3 though so i'll have to let this one percolate a little bit.

finally, another thing (!) that i love examining is captaincy and how it often helps inform shippability; C/A/guyswithletters shipping obviously generously overlaps with being drafted early, high-impact players, some positional stuff like Young Star Center having the role foisted onto him, etc. and many of these aspects are immediately identifiable in top ships like 8771, 1634, 1386... just to name a few obvious ones. unfortch i don't really have the time or space to look at that here but it's something i'm still interested in maybe expanding on, and i also never ended up collecting actual skater *performance* data which would be super fun to eventually get to, e.g. mapping ficdom output to not just background identifiers like draft year/pick but also 1) actual tangible evaluations of player goals/points/(salary?!?)/etc. and 2) some dimension of draft outperformance/underperformance, which is pertinent for scenarios like late-round picks who have defied career expectations (see outlier jbenn having a shit ton of lifetime fic) AND early-round picks whose trajectories have not panned out as expected for whatever reason; often the ~tragic~ frustration of being a bust actually invites more narrative focus and scrutiny, but at the same time ficdom trends have pointed themselves to being attracted to many historic, talented, generational, and so on players, who more often than not are also winners, which potentially posits a need for some sustained line of access/visibility to high-expectation players significantly before they're regarded as "busts" in order to organically grow and generate initial interest that can survive the renewed reality of their situation. but who knows

again, i don't know whether any of this even makes sense or is interesting to literally anyone at all, but i personally enjoyed just dicking around graphing shit and getting to join a ton of tables together for absolutely no reason lol. that's all!

#(extremely long post warning)#*m #stats #>guy who needs to reflect

478 notes · View notes

bagopucks · 1 year

Text

J. Hughes - Need You Now [Lady A]

✄————————————

Jack Hughes x Fem!dancer!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 5.4k

Warning(s); that good ‘ol fluffy madness

This is getting proofread again when I wake up. Again, song in the title is the song of choice for this fic. Not set in stone tho <3

—————————————

Mondays had become a routine. I got up. I texted Jack. We go to school, we hung out. He goes to hockey, I go to dance. We meet up at the Hughes household after, and spend the rest of the evening together.

When Jack and I first got together, we took note of our busy schedules. He had his own hobbies, and I had mine. That being said, our proximity to one another made dating much easier than first expected. Our relationship worked best because of that proximity. And sure, we may have always been exhausted after attending our own practices and rehearsals, but being exhausted together was better than being exhausted apart.

Ellen made late dinners, considering her boys all got home from hockey at a later hour in the evening, but it was a schedule I’d grown comfortable with on Monday afternoons.

I’d been over at the Hughes household helping Ellen with dinner, but I slipped away at the sound of the front door opening. Luke bounded in first, and I playfully rubbed his hair as we passed each other. He was on the hunt for his mother. As was Quinn, who passed by me shortly after with a quick greeting. I chuckled. Jim stepped inside after Jack, and my smile faltered ever so slightly when I saw the looks on both of their faces.

I hesitated. I knew those looks. Jim gave his son a careful pat on the shoulder before locking the door and walking through the house. Jack’s eyes followed his father before they landed on me. He looked defeated. I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Hey?” I greeted in question, and watched as he approached. He dropped his hockey bag on the floor. It didn’t take long for him to wrap his arms around me.

“Practice didn’t go so well?” Jim was a good father, but like most sports dads, he could be a bit hard on his kids. Especially when they had big dreams. Quinn was in the process of being looked at by NHL scouts, and Jack -while spoken of by the league- had gotten a hockey scholarship offer from the university of Michigan. He had plans for the NHL too, but either way, he had to keep his skills sharp for both. Which was what Jimmy was always tough on the boys about.

Of all three, I wouldn’t lie. I’d expect Jack to have a lazy practice here and there. Sometimes he just didn’t feel like it, and unlike his brothers, he never pushed through when he was lacking in motivation. It’s something that’s always frustrated his father. Sometimes Jack just couldn’t be bothered to do things.

“I have a headache,” Jack mumbled into my shoulder. I nodded and stroked the back of his head before pulling away.

“Dinner’s almost ready.” It was the only thing I could think of that was going to cheer him up. I grabbed Jack’s hand before I led him into the kitchen, and I could tell Jim must have gotten on him pretty badly by the way Quinn and Luke both tensed when we entered. Like they were afraid Jack just might implode.

“Hey, sweetie! Since when did we start greeting your girlfriend before me?” Ellen teased softly as Jack found his way over to her. He leaned into her side as she gave him a half hug. She picked up on her middle child’s emotional funk as well, and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before she patted his back as a signal to step away so she could move a pot full of sauce off the stove.

Ellen was just as liable to get on her kids about laziness and a lack of effort. She was a sports parent too. But nothing was worse than hearing it from your dad. And Ellen knew better than anybody that her husband and Jack got into arguments at times. Jack just wanted to be understood, and Jimmy just wanted Jack to understand. He was the difficult kid. By no means were any of her three boys problematic, but Jack definitely put up the most hassle.

“Quinn, why don’t you set the table for me?” Ellen piped up, and earned a nod from her oldest.

Sometimes I found it a miracle that she and Jimmy had managed to raise such obedient kids. Especially after having three boys.

Once the table was set and the food all laid out, Ellen travelled upstairs to find her husband, and I was seated at the table with the three Hughes brothers. I usually sat down at the opposite end of the table from Jim, closest to Jack. Ellen’s place was across from her oldest boy and diagonal to her husband. At the head of the table I felt I could see and speak to everybody from a good angle. Jimmy agreed with me on that.

“Alrighty.” Ellen eventually stepped into the kitchen with a bright smile, but there was tension behind it. I had no doubt she and Jimmy spoke about Jack. He followed in behind her. He looked slightly more jovial than before. Which I was thankful for, because when I turned around to look back at Luke and Quinn, they seemed to overlook the facades of their parents, and they relaxed.

Food was served and conversation was struck up. What was discussed at school, who was taking what tests, and how grades were looking. I chimed in here and there, but I knew the conversation was more of a ‘catch up’ for the parents and their boys than it was for me.

Still, Ellen made a point to praise me for my own good grades and accomplishments. She always wanted me to feel included and welcome.

“How was dance today?” The conversation shifted, and I found frustrations from earlier in the day dawning on me again. I rested my fork on my plate and sigh. Whichever sets of eyes were on food, had quickly set on me. Concern and curiosity in the faces of the family I’d grown to love.

“It was good. We got paired up for group routines today. The guy I got paired with wasn’t there today, and usually that’s fine, but he called in to say he was in the hospital for a stupid broken foot and now I don’t have a partner.. the class is an uneven number now.” I tried not to sound too tense. I’d hate to ruin the family dinner with my own problems.

Jim leaned forward with a smile, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was about to slip past his lips. I loved Ellen. I loved her with all my heart, but Jim and I had the relationship I always wished I had with my own dad. His jokes could cheer me up on a cloudy day when it’s hailing and pouring all at the same time.

“Can’t imagine you’ll have much issue dancing alone, eh?” I smiled. I knew what he meant. I’d won many competitions in the past. I was one of the most skilled in my studio.

“That’s not the point though,” I chuckled and shook my head. “It’s a group routine where everybody is paired. If I don’t have a partner, I can’t be in the routine.” I playfully sassed, and earned a quiet chuckle from the man across the table, as well as his wife. Quinn smiled, but he was never one to give me the gratification of knowing I made him laugh. So he tried to hide his face in his shoulder.

Jack was eyeing me, but he didn’t say much. I cast him a glance before I moved my foot beneath the table to nudge him.

“Well you’ve got three boys here. How hard is the routine for the boy parts?” Ellen asked, and I heard the clinking of various stainless steel silverware pieces on glass dishes before my head whipped to the three who were staring wide eyed at their mother. Jim coughed on a laugh at his boys.

“It’s not impossible.” I answered and watched as the boys slowly looked at me.

“So? Jack? Why don’t you do it with her?” Ellen’s encouraging words earned an uncertain gaze from her son.

“I don’t know, mom..” Jack looked back down at his plate, and I saw his two brothers visibly relax once they thought they were out of the danger zone.

“I think that’s not a bad idea.” Jim chimed in, and I stiffened when I saw him make eye contact with his son. There was subtext in his words that I didn’t understand. That had to do with whatever they were tense over when they came in the house. I watched Jack as he grew uncomfortable again. He looked away. He looked shameful.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at it.” His words made me smile and nod. I didn’t want to upset him further by arguing.

“It’s really fine. I wouldn’t mind sitting out on it.” I shrugged as I tried to find the right words to deescalate the conflict that had been slowly rising at the table. I heard Quinn sigh.

“I’ll help if you want me to.”

My brow shot up in surprise. I smirked.

“Quinn Hughes? You’d wear tights? For me?” I teased him, and heard his mother giggling when he glared at me.

“I’m out if tights are involved.” I knew his words held no true threat. Quinn would have worn the girliest leotard in existence if I needed him to. He was always there for me.

“What about me? Maybe I wanna help.” Luke joined in, simply because he felt left out of the conversation. His input surprised everybody. It even managed to earn him a look from Jack. Jack, who was usually quick to make a joke. Especially in a moment when he would have the chance to call his younger brother a ‘little girl.’ Instead it was Quinn doing so.

“Woah bud.. didn’t realize you were so interested in wearing tutus.” Quinn gently patted his brother on the back. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Luke. I love you, but I don’t think you’d last a minute in my dance class.” He looked offended at the fact that I had ganged up on him with his brother.

At that point, Ellen had a hand over her mouth and she was desperate to stop herself from laughing at her kids. Jimmy wasn’t to the point of laughter, but I could see his smile out of the corner of my eyes.

“You guys suck.” Luke mumbled, out of the goodness of his heart, and he stood to take his empty plate to the sink.

“Luke, be nice.” Ellen had quickly scolded, through quiet bouts of laughter.

“Take my plate while you’re at it, Lukey.” Quinn handed his plate over, and eventually everybody had given their plates and silverware over to Luke, except for Jack, who was still picking at his food despite his mood.

“Alright Luke. It’s rematch night.” Quinn spoke excitedly as he left the kitchen dining area, followed by the youngest after the plates were in the sink. I could hear them moving things in the living room, a thud, then a quiet ow.

“Quinn! Let your brother use the player one controller!” Ellen jumped up from the table, going to solve the problem between her boys before it escalated.

I spared a glance at Jimmy, who nodded at me in understanding before he stood and took the empty drink glasses to the sink. He stepped out of the kitchen soon after, going to be the backup his wife needed.

It gave me a moment with Jack.

“Hey, bud.” I leaned forward and rested my pointer and index finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards. He was reluctant to make eye contact with me, but he did so anyway.

“What’s up?” It was a general question, not necessarily asking what was upsetting him, but more so what had been on his mind.

“I don’t want Quinn to dance with you.” I noded and smiled at Jack as I reached for his hand.

“You never answered my question earlier.” Jack huffed and shrugged his shoulders. Frustration was bubbling up.

“No. I didn’t want to be there.” At practice. “And.. I got a bad grade on the stupid algebra test. My dad’s all over me for it.. I just- I don’t get it.” I gently squeezed his hand. He hated math. I knew he did. He hated feeling stupid too.

“I told you I’d help.” I whispered, carefully angling my seat to face his as I leaned forward and rested one of my elbows on my knee.

“I know,” his voice was quieter than mine, and I could tell he was disappointed in himself for not reaching out.

“Ya know what I find helps best when I’m stressed?” I flashed him a playful smile. Jack eyed me.

“Dancing.” I tried to coax him into helping me. As much as I appreciated Quinn’s offer to dance with me, I wouldn’t have as much fun with him as I would with Jack.

“You really want me to do that with you?” The middle brother sounded unconvinced.

“You’ll be the most handsome boy out there..” flattery was a tactic I saved for a rainy day with this boy. It didn’t take a lot to convince him of something, but a few compliments never hurt.

“God… you’re so pushy.” His dramatics made me laugh. But they were a telltale sign I had him in the palm of my hand, and that he was feeling a bit better.

“C’mon, Hughes. I’d be your left winger if you ever needed it.” I reasoned and watched him smile.

“I’d never ask you to do that.. you might get hurt.” I rolled my eyes and pulled away to lean back in my chair. I folded my arms across my chest, awaiting his final answer. He could tell I was.

“Fine. But I’m a horrible dancer. Like.. the shittiest dancer you’ll ever meet.” He whispered, not wanting to get caught cursing. It made me laugh.

“Can’t talk your way out of this Hughes. You’re my partner now.”

——————

I don’t know why I asked Jack to do this. It was a risky decision really. I hadn’t seen him dance yet, but just stepping into the studio with him in tow had everybody looking. He was an attractive boy, but he was my boy. It was only worse that Jack thought it best to wear compression pants under his shorts. He looked good. He looked great even. I had always loved the way those pants fit him, but I didn’t anticipate all the other girls loving the way his pants fit him too.

Jack was unbothered by the stares. I showed him where to kick his shoes off and where to leave his things before we stepped into the empty studio. My teacher was upstairs and I wanted a moment to actually stretch him out before he made a fool of himself in front of everybody else. Aside from that, I had a good feeling Dance stretches were not going to benefit him as much as his usual hockey stretches, considering he’d have no clue how to do any of mine. I kicked the door shut and watched him look around.

“The mirrors are- they’re a little much… don’t you think?” I always loved the way Jack’s voice sounded when he was nervous.

“It’s so we can all see each other. I promise you’ll be fine.” I walked around behind him and dragged my hand across his back as I went. I was hopeful some physical contact would help him relax.

“You do some hockey stretches first, yeah? Dance stretching is a little weird.. I don’t think you’ll be any good at it.”

Jack nodded, and joined me on the floor, side by side. We did our own things, but we did them together. He looked so focused that I couldn’t help but giggle every once and I while when I looked at him in the mirror.

“Quinn wouldn’t last a second in here.” Jack finally struck up conversation, and I found his confidence amusing.

“Class hasn’t started, hun. I’d wait before you start talking like that.” I slowly stood up and made my way over while he was doing his own version of what was usually considered a frog stretch. His knees were tucked up beneath his body as opposed to stretched out behind himself. The hockey players always did it that way, and I’m sure they had their own methods to their madness.

“Lean forward?” I rested my hands on his back and pushed down gently while I let Jack do most of the work. He stopped when his face was still a foot from the floor. I rubbed his shoulders and laughed softly at the sigh he let out.

“You have to breathe through it. Doesn’t help if you hold your breath.” He nodded, but he didn’t listen to a word I said. He still held his breath. I assumed if I made him keep the position long enough, he’d learn, but when the door opened, I quickly stood upright. Jack unfolded and leaned back against my legs to catch his breath.

“Mrs. Jenny.” I greeted, the dark haired teacher shot me a wave in return before her eyes trailed down to the boy who fought for his breath and rubbed his legs, leaned back against my own.

“Is this one of Ellen Hughes’ boys?” Her question caught me and Jack off guard.

“Yeah?” Uncertainty laced my tone.

“Oh my god-“ the rest of the class poured in, just as confused as I was. “Are you Jack?” She walked over, and Jack hoisted himself to his feet to shake her hand, nodding to her question.

“I met you when you were like.. four.. Ellen and I used to be so close.” Jenny looked him up and down, bewildered. Like most random people were when they saw a kid they hadn’t seen in a while. And of course, Jack looked as uncomfortable as he could possibly get.

“Then she had Luke and just got so busy. It’s a thrill to have one of her kids here. I always assumed it might be Luke.”

Jack and I both laughed. We saved that information to torture Luke with later.

“You’re gonna be a fun pair to work with.”

——————

And it seemed we were. Jenny got Jack and I on an individual schedule. One that worked around my normal dance classes and one that worked around his hockey practices. She was beaming every time she stepped into the studio and got to work with us, and Jack seemed to love her as much as I always did. Jack admitted to me that the classes were fun, and even helped with the hockey burnout he’d been experiencing. When I spent nights in the Hughes household, I could only assume the classes were helping, seeing as the tension between Jack and his father was practically nonexistent.

I found myself occasionally stumbling over our dance when I looked up into the mirror, only to spot that bright smile on Jack’s lips he gets when he knows he’s got the hang of something. He was so distracting, the way his eyes lit up and his hair bounced. Jenny invited Ellen in one day to watch, but Jack insisted she didn’t see a thing. Ellen tried her best to get her son to give in, but Jack shut her out of the studio and pulled the blinds in the window. He knew his mother well enough to know she’d have videos. And then his brothers would have them.

I had to remind him that he was only prolonging his fate.

Eventually, Jack and I got the hang of not only the dance, but the mental link of communication that came with it. Our rehearsals went from Jenny interrupting every so often or her spending the bulk of her time on Jack, to her sitting back and watching us. Critiquing at the end of each run through, and helping us perfect what we had.

At the end of the week, we were professionals. Jenny got such a kick out of watching us, consistently praising our chemistry and professing her love for instructing a young couple. Jack and I never had responses for that, but it always made us blush.

When the practices ended, and it came up on the eventual public performance, Jack and I were clearing out the living room in the Hughes house to go over everything.

“Jack!” I shouted through laughter. A light tug on my arm caused me to fall into step and twirl into his side. We’d stopped rehearsing close to an hour ago. At this point, we were goofing off to the song that was playing through his phone. He was laughing too, with an arm wrapped around my side while he swayed us back and forth.

“I’m by your side,” he sang horribly in my ear, causing me to pull away and push him.

“God Jack, shut your mouth.” I giggled and allowed him to grab my hand and pull me back in. He rested his other hand on my hip as he continued to ‘serenade’ me. His voice was flat. He was a horrible singer. But in my mind he sounded prettier than the birds.

“Our friends would all make fun of us…” I rolled my eyes at him. If you can’t beat them, join them.

“The world will never ever be the same!” I quickly joined in, and soon we were yelling the lyrics, our motion ceased as we stood and held each other, heads thrown back to deliver the lyrics of the soft song to the ceiling.

Neither of us heard the quiet thudding on the steps, or Quinn’s frustrated grumbling, until he was in the living room doorway, glaring daggers at us. Jack noticed him first, my back was turned to him. When I saw the look on my boyfriend’s face, I quickly moved to get a view of his older brother.

“I’m trying to study, dude.” Quinn sounded exasperated. I pursed my lips and giggled. Jack wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back into his chest. He rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Study harder,” Jack taunted.

“I can’t when there’s dying animals in my living room.” Quinn’s words were sharp, but I took no offense to them. “Sorry,” he apologized in my direction, but I shrugged.

“Just study outside.” Jack suggested, knowing the best ways to get on his brother’s nerves.

“In the rain, Jack?” Quinn placed his hands on his hips. “Why don’t you go dance in the rain?”

“‘Cause she’ll get sick!” Jack gestured to me.

“But it’s okay if I get sick studying in the rain?” Jack reached for his phone as his brother spoke, and turned up the volume.

“Jack!” Quinn raised his voice in warning. I snickered. “Jack!” He repeated his brother’s name as Jack began to sway with me back and forth. He held instigating eye contact with his brother. Challenging Quinn.

“What?” The middle child called. I winced at the volume of his voice.

At that point, all the noise had attracted Jimmy, who stepped in the room beside Quinn. He looked confused and frustrated. I chuckled when I noticed he and his son wore the same expressions.

Jack quickly reached for his phone to pause the music.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy’s question had me slowly pulling from Jack. To detach from the situation at hand.

“Jack’s being loud.”

“Quinn’s being rude!”

I felt like I’d heard them having this fight before.

Jimmy sighed. Sighed like he’d heard it all one too many times.

“Jack, turn the music down and stop yelling. Quinn, just go back to whatever you were doing.” I heard another set of footsteps down the hall, and I watched Jimmy turn, point a finger, and say ‘no’ to the figure I couldn’t see. It had to be Luke, I had no doubt he wanted to investigate and instigate.

Jimmy ushered Quinn and Luke back up the steps before he made his way to the basement. Jack and I were alone in the living room again.

“I don’t even care if we royally screw this up. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” I wrapped my arms around Jack’s neck as I spoke. I leaned back as he leaned forward, holding my hips.

“I’m gonna ace it. You just watch.” His excitement made me smile.

——————

“Alright. Don’t laugh.” I stood outside the boys bathroom in the school hallway. It was a Saturday night. Jenny decided to hold the recital at our public school because of the size of the stage. “How do I look?”

As Jack stepped out, I took time to examine his figure. He wore a tight fitting black shirt, and a pair of black pants that resembled sweats, just not as loose. I wasn’t sure what I wasn’t supposed to laugh at until I saw his hair.

“Jack.” it made me nervous. He knew what I was staring at.

“I was wearing a hat all day! I had a bad hair day!”

“Is there anybody else in the bathroom?” My question was answered with a shake of the head, and I was quickly shoving Jack back into the bathroom. Water had to fix it. If it didn’t, I had no other solutions.

“Mom said she was bringing hair gel.” Jack informed me as I ran my hands under the faucet and reached up to smooth down his hair. My prayers were answered when I saw the mess become more tame.

“It’s alright.. I think I got it. Your hair doesn’t look the best gelled anyway.” My words were subconscious, but they made Jack scoff out a playful gasp nonetheless.

“Rude.”

We stepped out of the bathroom in time to spot Ellen, and I smiled at her while she approached with a matching grin on her lips.

“Seems like you got that sorted.” She spoke as she inspected her son’s hair. “I’m so excited. Watching my baby do something new… I don’t get that very often any more.” Her words made Jack blush. “Good luck!” She gave her son a tight hug, and I was quick to accept the one she offered me as well, before we made our way backstage.

I was bewildered by Jack’s calm attitude while we watched people from behind the cover of the offstage curtains. He seemed so patient and relaxed. I on the other hand, was fiddling with everything I could. When he noticed, he grabbed my hand, and he didn’t stop holding it, even as the next blackout came and we were stepping out on stage. It worried me when Jack still didn’t let go, even as we were trying to get set. And I realized that he was as nervous as I was. Just more reserved about it. It was gutsy, but I turned to press a kiss to his cheek before I pulled my hand from his own, and reset myself.

I heard an ‘awww.’

I smiled.

I knew it was Ellen.

It was a different world when the lights came up. It was a world I shared with Jack. A more mature world, to a song we two loved but emotionally knew nothing about. Jenny said our chemistry and passion made it look like we did know.

When Jack wrapped his arm around my back and I dropped to hang there -folded backwards like a towel on a rack that was his arm- he walked me across the stage and I couldn’t help but lift my head to look up into his eyes. He could drop me. But I knew he wouldn’t.

And when I got the chance to travel around him and turn his body into mine, I gave him every physical signal I could that he was doing a good job, even as his eyes searched mine for approval. I held his face as he stepped forward, and I, back.

He held my hips. I held his hands. He holds my body. I hold his heart.

Dance is a different type of communication. But there was a type I knew we were better at, and in one song I’d managed to fall deeper in love with him.

When the lights dimmed, and I froze in his arms, we were quietly heaving for breath. He’d learned to stop holding it.

His eyes flickered to my lips. Mine told him, ‘not here.’

He kissed me anyway.

When he pulled away, we were breaking out into huge smiles, and I grabbed his hand to drag him off the stage.

“We did it!” I jumped into Jack’s arms the moment we got behind the curtain, and he held on for dear life.

“I’m never doing this again!” His words caught me off guard, and my brow furrowed in question as he put me down. “I thought I was gonna throw up.”

I realized what he meant, and I chuckled softly.

“You were so pretty out there,” he whispered as we made our way out of the backstage area, stepping back out into the dimly lit hall.

I turned to face Jack and placed my hand at the nape of his neck. I brought his lips in for another short and sweet kiss.

“You’re a trouble maker. You know that?” I whispered.

“My mom’s probably got a million pictures of us,” he tried to change the subject, but my quick wit got us back on track.

“Probably a million of us kissing too.”

“Oh god..” he sounded devastated, but I knew he wasn’t.

“Consequences of your actions, bud.” I gently patted his chest and pulled away. “Very risqué move out there.”

“We’ve had others.” His mischievous smile made me roll my eyes.

We have had others.

“Come on.” I led him back to one of the empty classrooms used as a makeshift waiting from for the rest of the company. We sat there side by side for the rest of the recital, occasionally talking, occasionally scrolling through our phones. Every once and a while, Jack would turn to me and kiss me. It helped pass the time a lot faster.

When the recital was over, Jack and I were slipping on our shoes and gathering our things. Despite this being my event, he seemed more eager to get us out there to see family and friends. He dragged me behind him as we entered the auditorium, searching for his family before we caught sight of Quinn talking to one of his own friends. When Ellen spotted us, she was beaming. And waving.

Jack and I quickly closed the distance between ourselves and his family. Ellen hugged me first this time, and I couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s gasp.

“Greeting my girlfriend before me,” Jack mumbled, surprise flashing across his face when Jimmy pulled him into his side.

“Proud of you guys.” Jack shared a look with his father, before giving the man an actual hug. Ellen was quick to reach into the seat in front of her, pulling out two bouquets of flowers.

“Quinn thought you both needed flowers.” She explained as Jack pulled away from his father.

“Oh my-“ Jack paused, turning to look for his brother before Ellen tapped his shoulder, turning his attention back to her.

“Not now, Jack.”

We got a few pictures with the flowers, and Ellen got a few of us when we weren’t looking. I congratulated a few of the girls I was friends with on their performances, greeted some friends I knew that had attended, and had a few pictures taken with my mother, who Jack helped me find.

After that, Jack convinced his father to let us take the spare car out for ice cream. Jack argued with Luke for a good ten minutes about not going before Ellen told the youngest to let it go, and Quinn informed Luke that they’d go on their own.

I couldn’t have been bothered to feel bad for the other two boys. Jack spent our evening after the dance in the parking lot of an ice cream shop, giggling and joking back and forth in the car. Sharing another moment, where it was only us in the world.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

411 notes · View notes

chelscait · 9 months

Text

stupid, but i still love you. | Laura Wienroither

category: angst with a civil ending.

summary: where you thought what you were doing was right but Laura disagreed, causing you to say some pretty mean things. (kinda)

word count: 3.3k.

a/n: this was another ficlet req. probably really bad, rushed the end and i haven’t proofread. also probably makes no sense.

A champions league game is always a game you want to be playing the full 90 minutes, especially a semi final.

Due to arsenals long injury list, the team was only travelling with half of the squad they started the season with, making it all the more important to stay focused and prepared.

Arsenal didn’t need another player added to their ‘end of their season’ long list.

On the way to Germany, you couldn’t help the anxiety flow through you. The strikers in this historic team weren’t living up to its standards which put a lot of pressure on yourself and Stina.

Also the fact that you’ve started every game since Beth and Viv got injured, it’s fair to say you were rather exhausted. This game wasn’t the one where you needed to feel it’s affects.

As much as you were heaving under tired eyes, you didn’t fail to notice the cautious looks of your girlfriend whenever you visibly showed the affects. Apparently you weren’t being as discreet as you thought.

She chose to keep quiet though, not wanting to risk anything to do with the teams communication and cause a dispute.

When the day came for the game, you sat unsocially in your locker with your headphones on after tactics were discussed, your name and number being up front on the starting line up as always. You didn’t often huff at the picture but now it was a different story.

You felt a tap on the top of your head, your eyes opening to reveal the number 26 on the girls shorts, looking up at your girlfriend who mimes to take your headphones off.

You sat up from resting your elbows on your knees, sighing as you shifted them to lay around your neck.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.” You gave her your curt answer, attempting to return back to your music.

“Hey, i’m not finished.” Laura gave you a slap on the shoulder at your bluntness whilst her other hand snatched them off your head. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nerves is all.”

“You need to stop putting pressure on yourself, it’s not just you playing and making the chances. It’s a team sport, Y/N.” Sighing, she sat beside you with your knees touching for that discreet support.

“Yeah, but i’m the one that’s expected to get it in the back of the net.”

“Not all the time, you’re only human. Don’t over do it.”

“Laura, the reason i’ve been picked at senior level and on the starting team is to over do it, to perform at my absolute best. You have to over do it, otherwise you’re not good enough.” You leant back in your cubby, rubbing your hands over your thighs as you let out a deep breath.

It was too much to explain, women’s football was too much to explain.

“I don’t over do it and..”

“That’s why your not in the starting eleven. Always on the bench.” You nodded towards her training kit that was still on, not thinking about what just came out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Hearing the tremble in her voice made your heart sink, however your face didn’t show it. “Fuck you, Y/N. Sort yourself out.”

You caught Kim’s eyes from across the room after Laura had rushed to wherever she escaped to, disconnecting your view by covering your face with your hands.

The game started worse than any of the team was really expecting, the ball was always on Arsenals side and every shot was on target, inching closer towards the back of the net.

Your position as a forward was not what you were playing in the first half, the whole 11 players was in the back line, desperately trying to limit the risk of a goal but it didn’t work out.

You didn’t know the perfect techniques around playing in defense, only thinking tackles was all they had to put in. How wrong you were, and you thought playing up front was hard.

Halfway through the first half you had managed to find yourself on the wing, chasing against Jonsdottir to recover the ball.

She was quick, too quick and managed to shoulder you to the side, yourself not managing it too well when your studs got caught, your ankle twisting with all your body weight resting on top of it.

The pain shot up your leg and you fell onto the floor, covering your face with your hand whilst your other grabbed hold of your ankle, wanting to withdraw the small snapping sound you just heard from your mind.

You could still just about hear the continue of play around you, as well as the erupt of the crowd as they managed to get one in just as you sat up. Noticing the physios on the sideline, watching you, you decided to try your best to stand up and continue.

Doing so with a hiss, placing your foot flat on the ground before taking small steps. The pain was near to dull, but you think the adrenaline was wearing it off a bit allowing you to ignore it.

“She is hurt. It’s affecting her.” Laura spoke to nobody in particular, but mostly towards the physios keeping her eye on you as you tried your hardest to keep up.

Arsenal was down 2-1 by the half time whistle, thankful for Rafa for doing your job.

Hobbling off the pitch, you held eyesight with your girlfriend, her face did not look to happy but it had a hint of concern.

She brushed past you into the tunnel and you stared at the back of head as she made her way to the changing room, glaring at you as she pushed it open.

Once sat back in your cubby, you lifted your sock up from your ankle and tugged down your ankle sock, noticing the top of what possibly is a large bruise a long with a bit of swelling.

“Knew it. You’re injured.” You jumped as a voice appeared beside you, wincing as you quickly covered your ankle up and placed your foot down on the floor.

“What, no? It just a cut that’s all.”

Laura completely ignored you, plopping down beside you and harshly grabbed your ankle off the floor and into her lap.

“Laura!” You yelped as she did so, the pain escalating throughout your whole body. Nearly letting out a cry.

Your teammates heads snapped towards you, staring in confusion as you tried to tug your foot away from her.

“Laura, please.” The look on your face revealed a whole lot of vulnerability you never normally showed, especially not since the season started.

Laura couldn’t remember the last time you acted human and not some kind of machine with no thoughts of feelings whatsoever.

“I’m going to get the physios.”

“No! Do you want this team to lose?” You gritted your teeth at her, grabbing her arm to pull her back, her face full of shock at your tone.

“Y/N, stop being so arrogant. This isn’t you, i don’t even recognise you. You are injured and you’re going to make it worse, not better, for yourself or for the team.”

“I have to play.” You didn’t look at her as you spoke, voice calming as you realised she was right but you couldn’t give in. You couldn’t let the reds down, not now.

“No, you don’t.”

“Hey! What’s going on?” You both snapped your heads up at the voice of your captain, who was at that moment injured like most of the team was.

Your argument was the first thing Kim saw as she opened the door, you both squabbling in the corner as the rest talked about the second half.

“Ask Y/N. She’s..”

“Nothing, everything’s fine.” You cut her off along with a glare, your fingers gripping the edge of the bench as you hunched over.

She rolled her eyes at your naïvety, you knew you had fucked it up earlier and you can’t stop yourself which is consequently making it worse.

“Well, both of you get a grip, this is champions league not a sunday league game down your local rec.” Kim’s accent was broad, which only increased the stern attitude, like a mum telling off her kids. “Get your asses in gear, we can’t be showing any signs of weaknesses in this club anymore, we’ve been through far too much.”

You open your mouth to reply before being cut off.

“And, if you are injured and are going to continue playing.. i won’t take it lightly if i found out you lied to me.” She poked a finger in your face and it felt just like school times, your eyes wide as she stared you down before making her way out of the changing rooms.

“Now what? You still going to play?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “I’m not injured.”

“You’re such an idiot, Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when you have to miss the rest of the season.”

You were subbed off in the 70th minute, your performance decreasing and your pace faltered, your ankle now betraying you.

Weirdly, you were being subbed off for Laura and you saw her mention something to the physios as you tried to hide your limp.

You immediately knew what she had done and you didn’t bother to make any effort with her, brushing past her before she ran on the pitch.

“Y/N?” The physio called you as you tried to make your way to the bench, groaning as you turned to her with a timid smile.

She saw straight through you, raising her eyebrows at your stance, quite used to your antics by now.

“I’m fine, i don’t need treatment.”

“Y/N, I can see you’re in pain. You’re not hiding it from me this time, come on.”

At this point your club physio was a bit like your mother, stern face and a ‘get in there now’ attitude. Yourself accompanying it like a child.

She told you to get on top of the bed in the medical room after she allowed you to sort yourself out in the changing room, no sympathy laced in her voice as she sorted what she needed.

You slumped into the plastic thin mattress, your arms crossed with a pout on your face, one which the woman laughed at as she turned around.

Trying not to wince or groan, she took your boot off as well as your sock before gasping in a deep breath at the sight.

“Y/N.. you really didn’t feel any pain with this?” She let out the breath she was holding as she spoke, hands resting on the end of the bed as like she was unsure what she was supposed to do.

“No, it’s not even that.. bad…” You sat up to get a better look at it. “oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Y/N, that could be fractured.”

Her face made you panic, your breathing quickening as you moved your foot closer towards you and away from her.

“Well can’t you tell?”

“Not without an x-ray, but by the amount of swelling and bruising i’d say you have a positive chance of being out for a while.”

“No.” You shook your head as you swung your legs over the side, careful to not bang your ankle as the aim was to escape.

“Y/N! Don’t let me call in you know who.” She took hold of your shoulders, almost restraining you from getting up.

“I’m sure just some ice will do, no? I bet it’s a small sprain.” You panicked, tears welling up in your eyes.

You didn’t want to let the team down with being another of the many injured players.

“It is not a small sprain, Y/N. Now, back on the table.” You heard another voice enter, groaning as Kim sauntered into the room with a disappointed face.

You gave your physio a pleading look to make her leave, she only gave a shrug as a response making you whine.

“What did i say, Y/N? You’ve ruined it, for yourself and for the team. If you had gotten treatment earlier and not have been so selfless to continue playing, you may have avoided such a season-threatening injury.”

You stared at her as she rambled on, her words going in one ear and out the other. Responding to her frustrations with a simple shrug.

“Is that it? You don’t ca-.”

“I don’t know, Kim. Try putting yourself in my shoes right now, all of these injuries aren’t just affecting the ones injured but also the players that are left to play for this club. The pressure is way beyond even describing, i mean, look at me! I barely played before beth and viv got injured. I was put on the pitch like a headless chicken.. and i needed to prove myself and i tried, you cant blame me for that.” You let the tears spill as you reacted, known to the fact that what you did was stupid but you had your reasons. You didn’t need another telling you.

“You didn’t need to put your health at risk though.” Her voice was calmer than before, pulling your head in to her chest. “I don’t blame you, Y/N.. but sometimes you have to be selfish, for your benefit. If you don’t, then you won’t have a very long career. Believe me when i say, i was the same as you.. but I turned selfish and did what was needed for me and look where i am now.”

“Injured?” You huffed out a laugh through your tears, peaking out of her jumper as you felt pressure on your ankle which reminded you both weren’t alone.

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes, pushing your head away jokingly. “For me, Y/N. Don’t do this again.”

“Promise.”

“Also, apologise to Laura. She was only trying to help and you were a bit of a cunt to her.”

You winced at the strong noun that was used to describe your behaviour, threading your fingers through your hair as your remembered what you had said to her, the guilt and regret encasing you.

You nodded at her before she left, leaving you and you looked at the end of the bed where your physio was staring at you.

“I’m fucked, she isn’t going to forgive me that easily.”

“And who’s fault is that.” She grinned sarcastically, patting the boot that was now on your foot a bit too hard.

“Ow!”

After half an hour of trying to hype yourself up to reveal yourself and your new ‘accessory’ to your team, you made your way out and towards the changing room where everyone stopped and stared at you. Including your girlfriend.

You ignored everyone’s questions, heading straight towards Laura who was busy stripping her kit off.

“Laura.” You tried to catch her attention, her name guiltily slipping out your throat.

She ignored you and you could see the way you’ve made her feel from her expression, biting the inside of her cheek as she began chucking stuff haphazardly.

“Laura, can i please talk to you?”

She kept her silence, snatching her towel and knocking her shoulder into yours, making her way towards the showers.

You were about to give up before you caught Kim’s glare again, urging you to make more of an effort and you nodded before gradually making your way to the showers.

You poked your head round the corner to be able to see inside the shower room, spotting Laura, whom you couldn’t help but admire. “Laura..”

“Y/N, for fuck sake, leave me alone!” She examined as she moved to cover herself from you, her front partially pressed to the shower wall.

“Just please let me talk to you.”

“I’m naked and in the shower right now, Y/N, now isn’t the perfect time.”

“I’ve seen you naked before, hardly makes a difference.” You explored how you said that, fingers tapping the edge of the wall whilst you made sure no water was touching your boot.

“Well i dont feel comfortable being naked around you right now and i still wont be with the conversation you want to have.” She turned her head over her shoulder, elbows shielding anything from your view. “Just.. wait out there.”

You pursed your lips as you nodded but didn’t make any movement other than that, your eyes still staring into the room.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry.”

Hobbling back into the main dressing area, you cowered as some of the girls stared at you, though mostly your foot.

You didn’t mention anything, letting them figure it out for themselves that you were in fact injured and you now couldn’t do anything about it.

You decided to sit down in front Laura’s cubby, that way she couldn’t avoid talking to you as she’d have to get you to move if she wanted to successfully get changed.

You reached over towards your own locker, rummaging for your phone to update your family that you were most likely out of playing for a while and they wouldn’t be able to see you at the emirates.

Spotting a pair of feet in front of you as you leant your elbows on your thighs, you traced your gaze up towards her face.

“Move. Get out of my locker.”

You shuffled slightly to the right, still in reach of her and she rolled her eyes as she reached for her clothes and started to redress.

“I’m sorry.”

She scoffed as she pulled her joggers up, her wet hair falling in front of her face pulling you in to tuck it behind her ear but before you could she slapped your hand away.

“Don’t pull that shit with me.”

“What else do you want me to say, Laura? What i did was wrong but it was in the spur of the moment.”

“You embarrassed me, made me feel like shit.”

“How did i embarrass you? All i did was say i could play.”

“Yeah whilst you said that, you basically continued to say that you deserve to play more injured than i do not injured.” She mentioned as she tucked her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms over her chest.

“Bullshit.” You moaned, lulling your head back.

“My god, Y/N.. you can never admit you’re wrong. Always trying to argue back your innocence.” She stopped what she was doing to glare at you, the words practically seething from her mouth. “I told you that you needed to stop playing, you ignored me and here you are. That’s one way you were wrong, the bits you said about me and to me just added to it. This never works, we can never communicate in this relationship!”

You spotted a single tear flow down her face, biting her lip as she tried to suppress any following emotion.

“I’m sorry, i’m really sorry, Laura. I never meant to take my insecurities out on you, it’s just that i’m fed up with not being able to live up to the fans standards. I wanted to prove myself and i can see how i’ve taken it too far. I love you, please don’t.”

You reached out to her, gripping her hands in yours so she couldn’t escape your touch.

“Don’t what?”

“Break up with me.”

She sighed and sat down beside you, leaning the side of her head against the wall as she looked at your joint hands.

“I couldn’t break up with you. Even though you’re downright stupid and fucking annoyingly hard to persuade, i still love you.”

You perked up at her confession, herself raising an eyebrow as you shuffled closer to her and raise your hands closer to your body.

“I love you too, and i promise you i will not bother you with my problems when it come to my rehab and i’ll come up with many ways to make you forgive me.”

“Why the first part?”

“Because i vaguely remember you saying to not come crying to you..”

“You know i’d still help, you’re too useless to do it alone.” She smiled slightly, sitting up as she did so.

“Hey, not funny.”

#laura wienroither x reader #laura wienroither #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso oneshots #woso #wwc 2023 #awfc x reader

308 notes · View notes

notsopersonalcharlie · 2 months

Text

Mid-Game Superstitions

(American) Football Star!Bucky Barnes x gn!reader

Note: Based on this idea I had watching the game last night and inspired by the fact that I like watching the sports ball sometimes. I'd apologize for the length but I wouldn't really mean it :)

You were nervous as all hell, nearly bit off your press ons in the car. It had been pandemonium when you arrived with the other partners, some of the wives coming with their kids in separate cars, but most of you all together. A few of them had done it before, been to a Super Bowl as the second most important people in the stadium, and Peggy had clasped a hand around your forearm as you stepped out of the limo.

You were glad for the anchor against all of the screaming. To your surprise people weren't just screaming for Peggy, or Sam's supermodel girlfriend, but they knew you too. It was delightful if not a little off-putting as you all posed to people screaming your name each of you wearing some form of the team's colors, red, white, and blue.

You'd gotten used to the hubbub of metal detectors and being ushered in a pack of security guards up to the box designated for all of you. Once things had calmed down, and you'd all taken copious numbers of photos and got drinks, you slipped away from the people you'd well and truly decided were your friends after a year of breathless wins and harrowing injuries, and made your way over to one of the security guards by the door. There were two at the door and one moving around the room, just in case anyone got by the first two.

"Uhm, excuse me?" The man turned. He was massive, but you were no more intimidated by him than by Bucky or any of the other equally massive players on the team. You'd learned through the season that the sweeter you were, the quicker you got things.

"What can I do for you?"

"I usually go down to meet my husband outside the locker room during half time. I just wanted to make sure there was an easy way to get there and that you knew beforehand!" Usually that's all it took, a smile and a little shrug. Today though, the man frowned and leaned back out the door to say something to his partner, you didn't catch it all, but he said something about security and concerns. When he turned back around he was still frowning.

"I'm sorry, I have to check with the rest of the security team. They're running things a little militant around here."

"Oh, I know a thing or two about militant! Bucky and Steve were in the Army before they joined the league. I'm sure there will be some way we can make it happen." You hoped you sounded confident, but not too forceful. You were already antsy from not being able to see him right before the game like normal, but you knew this was not a normal game. He nodded with a small smile and stepped outside, the door closing behind him. You loitered there, glancing back at the rest of the teams partners, many of whom had looked back over at you and given you hopeful thumbs ups.

It hadn't seemed like a big thing in the beginning of the season, the stop by the locker room at half time. It was Steve's fourth season in the league, second as first string quarterback. Bucky had played tight end in high school and college, and Steve had practically begged when the Commandos were planning their draft picks to get his best friend on the team. He would have done anything to keep Bucky playing, that included letting you sneak down to give him a mid-game pep talk and kiss.

It wasn't until it was clear they were going to the playoffs that the players and their partners noticed that the games you weren't there or the games where you weren't able to follow through with the ritual between the halves, the Howling Commandos would lose. It wasn't a perfect measure, and it didn't even seem like the team played worse when you weren't down there, it was just like there was one missing piece.

The door reopened and the man seemed surprised to see you still standing there.

"I'm really sorry, but we've been told we're not allowed to take anyone down there between the game. There's too much chaos with the half time show dancers and teams." You floundered for an excuse, but 'they're going to lose if I don't' seemed pretty weak, so you were left standing there when he closed the door.

"Darling? What did they say?" You turned to meet Peggy's eye and shook your head.

"Oh dear." Most of the rest of the box seemed to have caught on and pats on the back were accompanied by nervous looks. Even though it had been your ritual with Bucky, it had kind of become the whole team's ritual. Peggy said Steve had mentioned that it wasn't that Bucky played worse when you didn't go down, it was his dark expression and lack of usual energy and camaraderie that brought them all down.

"I'm sure it'll be ok!" someone's wife called, "They're going to be so caught up in the game that they won't even have time to dwell on it. They've been practicing so hard." Before you could have too long a thought about it, they were called your attention back to the field and you watched them run out onto the field, all of you hooting and hollering as you saw your boys get on the field.

-/-/-/-/-/-

Bucky was ecstatic coming off the field during the half time. They were up by one touchdown and the energy was electric, every single move gained praise.

"Everyone take ten, do not, and I repeat! Do Not! Think about sitting for longer than five of those minutes. We'll huddle up then." Coach Fury lived up the name, but he kept them all ready to play.

"Buck, you are a beast out there man! Insane!" Sam practically bowled him over with the unexpected chest bump.

"Me? What about you!" Bucky gathered up a bottle of water and Gatorade, wiping away sweat and grass stains before slipping off down the hall to the way they had come in. There were a few people loitering around and security by the load, but he didn't spot you.

"Scuse me." One of the security guards turned and his eyes widened.

"Ma-Sir, you have to go back in the locker room."

"Oh, I'm just checking if my partner came down here. They usually do. Black jeans, shirt with my name on the back?"

"Sorry sir, we aren't allowed to let anyone but the half time crew in here. No one was allowed down." Bucky frowned.

"But-" He was cut off by loud music and the security guard shook his head, practically backing him towards the locker room again. Steve couldn't help but spot Bucky hanging his head and nearly swore out loud. He knew that look.

-/-/-/-/-/-

When all was said and done, they had fought hard, but the other team had a few last tricks up their sleeve. All of you had made your way down to the back doorway, where the players had come in and gone out, and were waiting for your freshly showered, if not very dejected football players. Bucky and Steve were nearly always the last ones out of the locker room, and Peggy and you waited patiently as they began to stream out. Sam was the first to say it, but it came like a steady stream after.

"They shoulda let you down here." It wasn't a specific blame, not on Bucky and not on you, but mid-game rituals were habits, and the habit might have cost the team the game. Finally, very last, you spotted the duo coming out, hair wet and heads handing.

"Hey peach," Bucky sighed, falling into your open arms and pressing his face into your neck.

"Hi Buck. You played great." He mumbled something against the hem of your shirt that sounded something like 'could'a played better' and you kissed the top his head, the smell of his conditioner reminding you of home.

"Next time," Steve said as he and Peggy began to walk away, "Next time I am telling the security team that you gotta come down no matter what." You could feel Bucky smile.

"Next time," he said as he pulled himself away from you, "If they don't let you come down, I'm coming up."

"Next time Buck." He leaned down and pressed a warm kiss to your lips.

"Let's go home."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #football star!bucky #charliewrites #marvel #mcu #Sebastian stan

70 notes · View notes

milaisreading · 1 year

Text

Ahhh~ Thank you so much! I'm glad you like and enjoy writing and that requests don't bother you!

I've read the part too and I like it very much! Thank you for making my day better again and again! ^*^

Can I ask you please for part 3 (maybe 4 too?) for any U-20 and Neo egoists league characters like Oliver, Sae, Kaiser, Ness etc and coaches like Ego (I really want to read about his relationships with manager-chan. I feel that he warms up for her too x)), Chris, Snuffy, Noa etc.

Thank you for your answer, I was happy to get it!~ Have a great day and I wish you a lot of inspiration!~

With love,

Garden

Author:Thank u for the request! Oohhh I have so many ideas when it comes to the coaches! So I will be doing them individually! For the other players I have smth in mind and will be doing it later on! For now I wrote abt Ego, so I hope u like it🩷 also if u are looking for some cute platonic HC with the coaches @/maochira has great ones! They always leave me so happy ^^

Warnings ⚠️: none in particular. Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to:Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Interview day...

"This place is really huge... they didn't lie when they wrote it's a huge, nationwide project." (Y/n) thought as she stood in front of the Blue Lock headquarters. A week ago she received an invitation for an internship at Blue Lock, and as she was excited joining it, she was terrified. Will she be good enough for it? Will the players like her as their manager? Will the people interviewing see her as fit for the position?

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) walked inside already seeing a woman with reddish-brown hair waving at her.

"You must be (L/n) (Y/n). I am Teieri Anri, I will be interviewing you along with the head of this project." The woman smile as she approached (Y/n) and the girl bowed.

"Thank you for inviting me, it's an honor." The girl said with a red face.

'Teieri-san is so beautiful! I saw her on TV a few times, having her as a possible mentor would be so cool!' (Y/n) thought as the woman lead her down the hallway, explaining that it's just some formalities they will go over.

"By the way, don't let yourself get scared off by Ego-san... he seems scary at first glance, but he means well." Anri warned the girl, who simply nodded her head.

Black eyes bore into (Y/n) as the girl kept fidgeting in her spot. Ego Jinpachi, as she came to know him, was scarier than (Y/n) had expected, but she shouldn't be surprised.

'You would expect him to be like that if he has to deal with a bunch of high schoolers.' The girl thought as Ego sighed, finally speaking up again.

"Alright, this one might do. Cancel the other interviews we had planned." Ego told Anri.

'Did... did I get the spot?!' (Y/n) thought alarmed as Anri nodded her head.

"And you think you will be able to stand the pressure?"

"I... well I have some experience from working with my school's football team, as I stated in the beginning. I also have some basic knowledge in the sport."

"Alright, Anri-chan will give you a little tour. You are expected to move here in 2 days. Now go."

'Harsh and straight to the point.' (Y/n) thought as she followed the woman out of the room.

"It went better than I expected! Some of the candidates folded 10 minutes after speaking to him, I think you will fit in here just right."

"R-really?! He was worse than this?!" (Y/n) asked, shivering at the idea.

"Not really, he is the same to everyone. You just argued with him on some points and maybe you didn't notice."

"I-I did... Sorry, I get lost when u talk sometimes." (Y/n) said, ashamed a little, but Anri kept reassuring her that it was fine.

"Don't you think this is brutal? To eliminate them just because they lost a tag game? And Kira is one of the best high school players too." Anri argued after the entrance exam was finished and both her and (Y/n) witnessed Ego argue with the white haired boy.

"It's final, if he can't think fast, he is not made for a striker." Ego said simply as he ate his yakisoba.

"Well, I am trusting you with them." Anri gave up.

"What is the next step? Will you start the matches soon?" (Y/n) questioned as the man shook his head.

"First we have a stamina training, then the real challenges will start. This is a game of elimination and survival of the fittest. Only the strongest egoist will survive this." (Y/n) nodded her head, looking at the monitors that showed the various teams.

'Ego-san sure is brutal, but in order to build up football from nothing we need the strongest... and so far it's these guys.' (Y/n) thought as she wrote down the names of all the players who are going further.

'Hmmm.' Ego raised an eyebrow, deciding to say nothing for now.

"Did you-"

"The goal was put just in the height you requested and every training area is equipped with water."

"And the-"

"The alarms are set just as you requested with that blaring sound."

"Also-"

"Ordered the Yakisoba."

Anri held back a giggled as Ego kept on being interrupted by the girl as she answered everything. It had been 2 weeks by then and (Y/n) finally got into a routine. It was funny for Anri to watch Ego pout in defeat as he told her to go assist Team V.

"I see you found someone who can't be easily intimated or angered." The woman teased as Ego shrugged his shoulders.

"Or you are growing soft."

"Shut up. You talk too much."

The next few days went somewhat peaceful and it was the night before the final match. Ego decided to do some more research on the players and prepare for the next step, when he heard noises from his office.

"I didn't leave anything on..." He muttered and opened the door, only to find (Y/n) inside, looking intensely at the game Team Z and Team Y had.

"What are you doing up so late? Watching a game at that?"

"Ego-san? I am taking notes of some of the players, you said you wanted to do some analysis but didn't have time."

The man was surprised as her words, but didn't show it as he took the notebook from her. He read it through, surprised how well detailed she was on the players.

"Why are you doing this? And how are you sure this is right?"

"I just like analyzing, I did the same in school too. And I am not a 100% sure, but 9 times out of 10 I was right, so I am pretty confident in this." (Y/n) answered calmly as Ego handed her the notebook and sat down next to her.

"Continue, u want to read these later."

Nodding, (Y/n) did as she was told while Ego just kept watching the screen.

"What did I say about feeding her garbage?!" Anri yelled as she saw (Y/n) and Ego eat the Yakisoba from the fridge.

"It's good food. In order to be a good at analyzing, she needs to eat." Ego argued as Anri handed (Y/n) some vegetables and fish.

"Here, eat this instead. We don't want you to get sick." Anri said, sending a side glare at Ego.

"What arebyou two even doing now?" The woman asked, looking down at the papers on Ego's table.

"I am teaching (Y/n) the essentials of reading the enemy. Now, as I said..."

Anri sighed as she watched Ego talking and (Y/n) nodding her head from time to time, with questions coming from her.

'This looks oddly cute... to see Ego-san have a soft spot for anyone is a once in a lifetime thing.'

Anri smiled softly and went on with the paperwork she had left for the day.

"Code red." Anri whispered to Ego who turned to look in the direction (Y/n) was.

"Not him now..." Ego sighed as he got up to pull the girl away from Oliver and Sae, but Bachira and Rin beat him to it. The boys pulled the girl away, saying some nonsense.

"Or maybe not." Anri laughed.

"Now I know for sure you have a soft spot."

"I don't. I just don't want more issues than I already have." Ego protested, keeping an eye on the U-20 team.

"Sure, sure~" Anri mucked.

#bllk #blue lock manga #blue lock anime #ego jinpachi #anri teieri #platonic #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock requests

363 notes · View notes

petals2fish · 3 months

Text

Pinky Promise (Tummy Hurts)

He’s in love with her.

Lily Evans couldn't shake off the irritation that manifested as a clenched jaw as she observed the way James Potter gazed at Cassie Gregory during the first five minutes of the Quidditch game. She hadn’t been able to eat that morning, anticipating this scenario in countless ways in her head. It was worse in real life, and now anxious bubbles were building in her stomach, making her queasy.

Cassie Gregory was a remarkable blonde standing at an impressive six-foot-one, perfectly complementing James' towering six-foot-three frame. It was no surprise that she seemed to captivate him, she caught everyone’s eye. Lily observed Cassie's radiant golden locks glimmering in the sunlight as she confidently leaned on her broomstick, overseeing the Quidditch field with sharp, hawk-like eyes in pursuit of the elusive Snitch for Gryffindor’s victory. Cassie's determined jawline and flawless physique were evident even from Lily's elevated position in the stands.

Lily knew why James was smitten with Cassie, but that didn’t make the matter any less annoying. (Read on A03)

Cassie was older, a skilled Quidditch player, and embodied the attractive sports girl aesthetic. Despite her popularity, Cassie's leadership in the dueling club, coupled with a penchant for jinxing those who crossed her, revealed a somewhat narcissistic nature.

Naturally, Cassie prioritized personal victory over the team's success. She wasn’t captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but she sure as hell acted like it sometimes. Even now she was shouting orders at Marlene, one of Lily’s friends, to stop missing passes. Lily half wished Marlene would tackle the blonde off her broom, but Marlene was better at self control than Lily was.

“And Potter’s got the quaffle, he’s heading down the field!” The commentator announced loudly.

Lily looked through her binoculars and found James, leading a chase with the quaffle down field. His arm muscle flexed over the ball, and Lily felt her heart jump when he turned his head and she got to see his cocky smile directed at his opponent. She’d give anything to see that smile aimed at her, in a dark hallway.

Sadly, they were just friends, and she likely couldn’t hold a candle to Cassie fucking Gregory. Lily was the opposite, as far as Cassie was concerned. Firstly, she was James' age; secondly, she did not fly a broomstick. To top it all off, her tits might be good to look at, but her arse was no contender as it was flatter than a pancake. At five foot two, she was tiny standing next to him and probably reminded James of a third year. Her compassionate nature and tendency to care deeply also made her quick to erupt into tears, thanks to her big heart.

Good tits and a big heart, Lily had certainly thought that’d be enough until now.

As James passed by Lily’s side of the stadium, a high-five exchange with Cassie ensued, briefly illuminated by the sun. Lily's discomfort intensified when Cassie blew James a kiss. Her face collapsed and anyone who actually cared about her, would’ve noticed she’d gone completely still. Stillness was never a good sign where Lily was concerned.

She heard James’ laugh chase the wind, and she felt her knees weaken. He had the biggest, loudest, most intoxicating laugh she’d ever heard. Jealousy sprung into her throat as she realized he was laughing because of something Cassie had said, and that was not okay. Lily didn’t understand why it wasn’t okay, but Merlin, she’d love to block Cassie from even looking his way.

Lily sighed deeply.

"Ugh," came an agreeing tone next to her. "Two jocks flirting in mid-air. They're disgusting."

"For what it's worth, they'd make beautiful babies," she murmured to Severus Snape, her best friend, trying to sound as if she were casually discussing the weather rather than the stomachache she had from realizing she wasn’t even in James’ league.

"Yeah, and raise them up to be a couple of monsters like their mother and father," Severus rolled his eyes.

“They aren’t monsters, Sev.”

"People as dimwitted as those two airheads shouldn't be able to reproduce."

“Cassie is the best dueler in her year, and James is—”

“A bully?” Sev counted off on his fingers. “A idiot, a showoff, a arrogant toe—”

“He’s all of those things,” Lily placed a hand on Sev’s knee to calm him down, “but Potter can still outpace us both in test scores.”

“He probably cheats,” Sev picked lint off his robes. “I’m sure he cheats, actually.”

“Okay, Sev.” Lily rolled her eyes, knowing for a fact James wasn’t cheating; he was just too smart for his own good.

It’s what got him into trouble the most.

It got Lily in trouble too.

Turns out, she had a type, and arrogant jocks with good grades were it.

Lily chewed on her lip, her green eyes zeroing in on James, who had just captured the Quaffle from Ravenclaw. Actually, no, Hufflepuff was playing. Oops . Lily just didn’t really care to notice, given that she’d been fixated on the interplay between Cassie and James. She was obsessively trying to decipher if the rumor about them was true, and it was eating her alive inside.

She hadn’t even been able to eat breakfast that morning.

Severus nudged her gently, breaking her concentration. "What's with you today?"

She tore her gaze away from James and Cassie, glancing at Severus with a half-hearted smile. "Just not in the mood for Quidditch, I guess."

Severus raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You love quidditch."

Lily sighed, admitting defeat. "Not today, I don’t."

Severus snorted. "Well, then why did you drag me out when we could’ve been looking for bowtruckles for my potion?”

As Lily tried to redirect her attention to the match, her mind continued to wander back to the topic of James and Cassie. The Quaffle passed between players, and she half-heartedly cheered when Gryffindor scored. The game was fun, but Lily couldn't shake the knot in her stomach, wondering about the truth behind the rumors.

Everyone was buzzing about James Potter supposedly snogging Cassie yesterday in Hogsmeade. Lily had been occupied with prefect rounds and missed the first half of the Hogsmeade trip, while everyone else seemed to have witnessed it. Even her own housemates claimed to have spotted James Potter and Cassie Gregory engaging in a passionate display.

Marlene McKinnon had practically erupted in outrage when she returned, screaming at Mary MacDonald about the alleged incident. It wasn't necessarily because she wanted James Potter for herself; Marlene genuinely despised Cassie with a fiery passion. This animosity had ignited when Cassie 'accidentally' broke the rules at the dueling club to beat Marlene in a duel of charms. Anytime anything good happened to Cassie, Marlene took it as a personal affront.

Lily couldn't blame Marlene for her tantrum. She, too, had been furious. She had closed the curtains to her bed frame and cried into her pillow for thirty minutes after hearing the news. It felt like a knife in the back, as if she'd been betrayed by the young black-haired Quidditch star.

After all, Lily had kissed James three weeks ago.

The kiss had been a secret one.

But the fact was still a fact.

In the quiet solitude of the library stacks, they had found themselves alone. Engaging in a casual conversation, the topic shifted to the revelation that neither James nor Lily had ever been kissed. James expressed his frustration, feeling out of step with their peers who had already experienced such things. In response, Lily shared her own apprehensions on the matter.

Lily, perhaps impulsively, had offered to be James's first kiss.

Initially he had conveyed uncertainty. "I don't know if it's a good idea. I don't want to ruin our friendship.”

“I pinky swear it won't ruin our friendship.” Lily had stuck her pinky finger out, grasping it with his own.

His eyes were lighting up as she forcibly shook their pinky fingers together. “A pinky swear doesn’t seem legally binding.”

Then he kissed her anyway.

Officially, he had kissed her more than once. After the initial kiss, neither of them had separated for more than a brief moment. It felt as if he were a magnet, drawing her in each time. She had even tried a little tongue on the last go, the way Witch Weekly said, carefully tracing his lip. That had only intensified his grip, keeping her securely in place.

As it turned out, Lily discovered that she liked kissing.

The sensation of their lips meeting was a delightful surprise, and she might have gladly continued the exchange if not for an unexpected interruption. James had pulled back, and had been touching her cheek adoringly. Then, in the midst of that peak romantic moment, Sirius Black stumbled upon them, catching them standing mere inches apart, their faces flushed with feeling.

Caught off guard, James hastily conjured a feeble excuse, claiming he was searching for a nonexistent quill mark on her cheek. The awkwardness hung in the air as he and Sirius hastily retreated, leaving Lily to stand in solitude for what had felt like an eternity, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

In that thirty minutes, she somehow became totally enamored with him. She loved the way he kissed her back so slowly, so methodically, she could practically hear his brain overthinking every move. She loved his hazel eyes, which were darker in the stacks, and held her with such an intense golden warmth. She replayed the meeting once, ten, or fifty times before heading back to her dorm for a long and hot shower.

Having her first kiss at fifteen must have done something to alter her brain chemistry because she spent that night drawing hearts next to his name in her diary. She hadn’t done that since second year, and never in her life had she imagined doing it around James’ name. They’d been friends, always friends, and now she wanted him as more than friends.

Sadly, the next day after their rendezvous in the library, James totally ignored her.

Then the day after that, he acted like they hadn’t kissed behind the stacks at all.

Lily felt a tinge of disappointment, her affection for him somehow deepening despite the letdown. She yearned for him from a distance, reluctant to jeopardize their five-year friendship over something as trivial as a couple of kisses.

Yet, the crush persisted.

With each stolen glance in his direction, her infatuation intensified—beginning with a subtle blush and escalating into a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. She found herself captivated by him, and was wondering if Severus was beginning to discern her secret feelings for him. Suspicious looks from Sev had become more frequent, especially when James lingered nearby.

Even now, as she stared out at the field, Severus eyed her with suspicion.

“Go, go, Gryffindor!” the voices in the stands erupted, some cheering for James.

Lily took a deep breath as James skillfully maneuvered his broomstick, tossing the Quaffle to Charity Jones. Unaware that Hufflepuff had caught the Snitch simultaneously, Lily's focus was on James, their eyes meeting in midair. He mouthed her name, accompanied by a wave. A rosy blush crept up her cheeks as she eagerly waved back.

Severus, reacting with disgust, lightly shoved her. Lily laughed, attempting to brush off her embarrassment as she watched James descend to the ground. The game had ended, but her heart continued to race, wondering if he was experiencing the same surge of emotions. The intensity was almost unbearable, leaving her jittery with unspent energy. She knew it was stupid, but the desire to kiss him in the stacks again greatly outweighed anything else at that particular moment.

“I can’t believe you waved back,” Severus muttered moodily as they stood up to join the crowd funneling down the stairs. "Do you like him or something?"

“James?” Lily feigned disgust a little too well. “Sev, he’s got a head so big, I’m surprised he can even fly a broomstick without toppling over from being top-heavy.”

Sev chuckled, tossing his hands into the pockets of his cloak as he responded joyfully, “he and Cassie have ego in common.”

“I just can’t believe he’d date her,” Lily remained even-toned, though the topic infuriated her.

“I know,” Sev let her through the stairwell door first before following with the quip, “I thought Black and he were a thing.”

Lily laughed out loud at that, earning an appreciative look from her usually reserved friend. “You can hardly see one without the other,” she commended, “but I can’t say either one of them has been caught snogging the other—unlike Cassie.”

Sev’s hooked nose scrunched up. “Why do you even care who is snogging who?”

“Because James is my housemate, he’s my friend,” she ignored Sev’s almost perpetual eye-rolling when James was involved. “And I personally think he deserves someone who’ll keep him humble.”

“Humble and James Potter don’t belong in the same sentence as the other.” Sev snorted as they both left the field and started walking back to the castle.

“You don’t know him like I—“

“Lily!”

The butterflies in her stomach had turned to lead weights. Her feet stopped dead in the frosty grass, her face heated back up, and her shoulders straightened. Severus was quick to disappear at the sound of the voice. Lily glared after him for abandoning her, but he just ignored her and fell into step with someone else.

“Lily!” James called her name again, this time he was closer, almost right on top of her.

Lily turned, and James was suddenly right there, inches away. He hadn’t changed from his Quidditch gear, and he had no glasses on, just his goggles pushed up his forehead. Lily eyed his wind-swept hair, admiring the twists it made on top of his head. His hazel eyes sparkled—no, they glowed with happiness at the sight of her.

God, she’s in love with him.

“Hi James.”

“Did you enjoy the game?” James asked cheerfully as students funneled around them.

Lily blinked widely before answering, “yes.”

She would have liked to have said, ‘I enjoyed you,’ but that seemed a bit forward.

“Good.” He walked closer, damn him, and slung a confident arm around her shoulders, leading her in a walk back to the castle. “I saw you in the stands near the end; you look really pretty with your hair down today.”

Lily looked up at him, twirling one long red strand of said hair around her finger. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You guess?” He scoffed, “take a compliment, Evans.”

And then, because she was stupid, she blurted out, “how was Hogsmeade with Cassie?”

She hoped he looked like he was in as much pain as she was because he actually winced when she mentioned Cassie. “Oh, you heard about that, huh?”

“It’s all over the castle,” Lily mused, “I think the student population truly believes you two might be one snog away from bringing peace and prosperity back to our hallways.”

James pinched her shoulder. Hard.

“Ow!” She pushed him away. “That hurt!”

“You deserved it for that snark, Evans.” He rubbed his own arm as if she had bruised him.

Lily eyed him grumpily, noting that he shared her expression. She fell back into step beside him as they crested the hill, the castle rising up over the landscape. It was a rare moment alone with him, despite the sea of people. Lily was hardly ever without Sev, and James had his own ‘glued at the hip’ friends as well.

She preferred them like this, alone, together.

“She’s pretty,” Lily commented, trying to keep her voice even again for the sake of prosperity.

“Who?”

“Cassie Gregory.”

James’ hand reached for his messy hair, and he ruffled it as if agitated. “She is,” he agreed shortly.

“Do you like her?”

His hazel eyes skirted to her green ones. “Why do you care?”

Because I like you. She was too scared of rejection to say it out loud. “Because I’m your friend.”

James’ expression remained taut, and then he hip-checked Lily playfully. “Well, just like all my other friends, you’re going to have to wait for the details on my love life.”

“But you will tell me, right?”

“When I’m in love?” James asked with a sharp tone.

She held out her pinky finger to him, “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”

His smile widened, he was likely thinking back to their last pinky promise. She held his gaze, not for one second regretting asking him. She liked when she flustered James, normally it was the other way around.

James’ pinky suddenly looped with hers. “I promise, once she’s ready, I’ll tell the whole school who I’m in love with because I won’t be able to hold it in.”

Lily's stomach fluttered once more as she recognized the sincerity in his words. He had that earnest gaze, the one he reserved for moments of honesty. Blushing, she averted her eyes and focused on her feet, feeling the nervous energy radiating from his intense stare. He held onto her pinky, only letting it go once they started walking again.

“Well,” she muttered, attempting to inject humor, “save me a seat at the wedding.”

James snorted, as if finding something ironic in her comment. “You'll be right up front, I don’t even need to pinky promise that.”

"I'm sure Cassie will love that." Lily said smoothly, pretending to check her nail beds to avoid looking directly at James.

"As if I'd marry Cassie," he scoffed, and her heart flew joyfully at the words. "She's a sore loser."

"You said it, not me." Lily almost hugged him, she was overjoyed by the news.

James grinned down at Lily perceptively, "I knew you didn't like her."

"I for one, am disgusted you didn't get my approval before snogging her." Lily mocked, her mood lifted by the turn of the conversation.

James laughed once, tugging on her red hair playfully with his free hand, "I didn't kiss her, it was just a rumor."

He didn't kiss Cassie.

Lily allowed her grin to widen as they entered the Great Hall together. James was immediately bombarded by his friends, who had been searching for him, providing Lily the perfect opportunity to slip away before potentially embarrassing herself. She seamlessly blended into the group of girls near the doorway, stealing one more glance at James. She felt a surge of happiness when she saw him returning her look with a wink.

She waved.

He waved back.

Later that evening, during dinner, James took a seat beside Lily, and she ate everything on her plate.

#jily fanfiction #Jily one shot #lily evans #james potter #jily #jily fic #renee rapp #tummy hurts #pinky promise

68 notes · View notes

maxislvt · 2 years

Text

Know That You're Mine

Summary: You and Pietro were an unlikely duo. He was the loud and flirtatious party animal and you were just a bookworm that had your head in the clouds. It was a strange friendship that got you wrapped up in some rather interesting situations. The most interesting of all being the complicated relationship you had with his sister. You felt guilty about it. Wanda wasn't your girlfriend and you two were just barely friends. To make matters worse, you'd somehow manage to lead her on your entire college career.

Warnings: Dubious Consent/Coercion (?), strap ons, semi-public sex, teasing, praise, possessiveness, fingering, questionable relationship dynamics

Normally, people dread their highschool reunion. Being forced to see old bullies again, realizing your old classmates were leagues ahead of you socially, or seeing an old crush with someone way hotter than you. For most people, it was just a day wasted opening old wounds and then pouring salt all over them. However, you were beyond excited to receive the invitation to speak at your reunion.

You were well aware that you would be one of the luckier attendees. You had colleges from all over the country banging at your door just about everyday before you were even done with your Sophomore year. Scholarships piled up for stuff ranging from writing competitions you'd won to playing multiple sports throughout highschool. You'd graduated as the valedictorian for your class and it was an endless uphill climb from there. You got accepted into your dream college. You had enough money to comfortably rent your own apartment. Then, you began a paid internship for your dream job. Everything was going well for you.

None of those things were what made you so excited for your reunion. In reality, you just really missed your old friends. The new people you met and friends you made during college were amazing, but there was just something special about the ones you made back home. They were with you at some of the worst and best points of your life. The memories you had together were irreplaceable. You were elated to be able to make more with them.

There was one friend in particular that left a him-sized hole in your heart. Pietro Maximoff. Sure, you'd always been "one of the guys" or "part of the gang", but the connection you had with Pietro was different. You two were inseparable during highschool. No matter how busy your schedule was, he always found a way to wiggle his way into your life. Even if that meant sneaking into the classes he didn't even take or pretending to read while you studied in the library. To many people, you two were an unlikely duo. He was an outgoing party animal with playboy tendencies and you were a soft-spoken bookworm with a habit of picking up stray animals. You were a charming person for sure, but not enough to go hoeing it up with someone like Pietro. It wasn't until you two hit the track that it became clear why you two were friends. Track and field brought out the best in both of you. It just so happened that your best and his best went together perfectly.

When you moved away for college, it did put a bit of distance between you two. Time zones, tournaments, and classes alike made it nearly impossible to actually talk to each other. It got a tiny bit easier after freshman year. During the slower parts of the school year, you found yourselves drinking or taking tours of the other's colleges, but it wasn't the same. A few days would never make up for the months apart and you hadn't time for each other since last year.

So of course, you were beyond disappointed in yourself when the reunion came and you let yourself fall back into his twin sister's arms. It was supposed to be your day for him and all your friends. A day to catch up and talk about every achievement you missed for each other. You even planned to tell him that you were moving back in town because the laboratory you were interning for was expanding. Instead he got a rushed explanation of the letter you'd thrown in front of him before you scrambled off to the restroom.

You'd always felt bad about your secret relations with Wanda. She was your best friend's sister. It wasn't right to be sneaking around with her. Even if "bro code" was something you all had grown out of, you didn't want Pietro thinking you put up with him just to bang his sister. Granted, Wanda was always the one coming on to you, but it was so hard to deny her advances.

This wasn't the first time Wanda had ruined your plans with Pietro with her lust. Study sessions where you genuinely had her brother's best interest in mind gone to waste because she couldn't keep her hands to herself. The amount of times she had whisked you away during parties because she insisted your shorts were too short. The worst of it came right before your graduation when she snatched you up and ate you out in the backseat of her car minutes before you had to give your speech. It only stopped because you'd gained some semblance of a backbone when you were away at college and refused to let her take away from the little time you had with Pietro.

"You've been so mean to me lately."

You bit back the groan that threatened to escape your lips. You hated the way she could speak so casually as if she wasn't knuckle deep in your pussy and locked in a restroom. A shaky breath came out through your nostrils as you attempted to think of a response. "O-oh, really?" You despise the games Wanda would play with you during sex. No matter how many orgasms you had or fingers she had in your cunt, you absolutely had to respond to her teasing.

Wanda rewarded your compliance with a deliciously slow curl of the two fingers buried in your heat. "You never call, hardly ever text first, and you never made time for me when you came back." Her fingers slowed down to an insufferable pace. She liked to watch you crack underneath her. Seeing you pretend to be tough and act like you weren't about to lose yourself to pleasure. "Do you not like me anymore? Don't tell me you're trying to replace me with one of those girls back at college."

"You're Pietro's sister, I can't just fuck my best friend's sister!" Your hands clamped over your mouth to suppress the moan that nearly escaped your mouth. You were so close to cumming, Wanda knew that too. It was the way your hips would desperately grind against anything to get you closer to your climax. You would suddenly become so compliant no matter how prideful you'd been hours before.

"You have no problem letting your best friend's sister fuck you though." Wanda rolled her eyes. No matter how many dates she took you on or gifts she bought, you refused to make things official with her. It was the same reasoning. "You're moving back in a few months, yea?" Wanda wasn't going to let herself be some play thing. You were hers, you just hadn't realized it yet. Her fingers slipped deeper inside your pussy. She pulled you impossibly closer and buried her face in the side of your neck.

"I'm gonna ruin you for all those other girls and you're gonna like it."

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And ruin you she had. It wasn't just the endless night of pleasure you received after the reunion. It wasn't even the endless teasing you'd received during the rest of your vacation. Wanda was in your head now. No matter how much you tried, she always snuck her way into your thoughts. You found yourself hopelessly grinding against pillows or using all your fingers to satisfy yourself the way Wanda did. Nothing ever worked. You often found yourself sweaty, overstimulated, and unsatisfied. It was the worst six months of your life.

Moving day was arguably the worst of it all.

All your friends insisted on helping you. Wanda, unfortunately, included. Your eyes constantly found themselves glued to her muscles. All because of that hideous muscle shirt and those stupid track shorts. She didn't even run track! It was ridiculous. Wanda had always had a petty streak, but this was a new low for her.

After hours of stumbling around and organizing your furniture, the boxes slimmed down to an amount you could handle on your own. Everyone left you to do your decorating and cleaning. Well, almost everyone. Of course, Wanda took her sweet time moving the last of her boxes and conveniently finished the second Clint had left.

You decided to focus on fixing up your room, assuming she'd leave the second she realized you weren't up for her antics. Unfortunately, she was intent on having you that night.

"How were those last six months, hm?"

Your jaw clenched immediately. It was unfair how she could make such a simple question sound so sexual. You swallowed the lump in your throat and continued working on the dresser in front of you.

Wanda slammed her hands down on the front of the dresser, leaving you trapped between her arms. "That whole ignoring my existence doesn't work, so just be good and answer my question." She pushed her hips forward, letting you feel the bulge in her pants. "I brought this just for you and I'd really hate for it to go to waste."

You shivered but didn't move away when Wanda started grinding against you. "I, uh, it was okay…" Your cheeks burned when Wanda chuckled. Just once, you'd like to stick to your morals and put your foot down. Tell Wanda to back off and go on about the rest of your life without her looming over your shoulder. You nearly jumped out of your own skin when you felt a cd hand slip underneath your shirt. "Wanda, stop it, you're-"

Wanda rolled her eyes and began rutting against you. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll stop." She pushed harder against you and squeezed your breasts. She could feel you tense up underneath her touch. "Or, you could be honest with yourself and we can have so much fun together." Her hips came to a complete stop, earning her an unrestricted groan from you.

You attempted to grind back against Wanda only for her hands to keep your hips pinned against the dresser. You huffed out in frustration. "Fine, fuck, I like you! Is that what you wanna hear? I like you and I've liked you since we first met !" Your teeth immediately clamped down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from rambling any further. You dreaded the endless teasing and whatever torture Wanda would put you through.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Wanda began placing soft kisses across the back of your neck. Her hands worked quickly to get you undressed. Your shirt and bra came off with ease. Then went your shorts, but she opted to keep your underwear on. "Did those girls back upstate treat you right?"

Your face went hot and you lowered your eyes to the detailed wood before you. Part of you considered lying just to piss her off a bit. She'd see right through it, but the thought of getting back at her was undeniably appealing. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath. "There were no girls upstate…I waited for you." You gasped as the possessive squeeze Wanda gave your inner thigh. She wanted you to keep going. "I…I couldn't even touch myself without thinking about you."

Wanda pulled away from you. She sat down comfortably on the edge of your bed and twirled her finger in a circle. "Take 'em off and turn around." She scooted further back to get a better view. Her eyes followed your hands as you slowly bent down and removed your underwear. "You know exactly how I like it, give 'em here." A smirk overtook her features as you slowly crawled onto the bed and put the soaked fabric in her hands.

"You're having too much fun with this," You grumbled as you settled into her lap. Your hands nervously toyed with the sheets and you took a deep breath. It was a painfully familiar situation. Wanda would have you as naked as possible and on edge while she laid back fully dressed. You wanted to hate it, but it was arousing. She could do anything she wanted to you and you'd let her.

Two of Wanda's fingers dragged up your slit. She raised her hand and spread her fingers "You seem to like it." Her slick covered fingers stroked the dildo that stood proud between her legs. Her eyebrows raised at the needy groan that you let out. "Oh? You can deny me for five years but can't wait a few minutes til I fuck you?" Her hand slid down to the base and guided the tip between your folds. "God, you're so wet for me. It's always gonna be for me, isn't that right?"

You whimpered when Wanda's fingers eased themselves into your dripping heat. They pumped in and out slowly. It wasn't even half of what you wanted, but you missed being filled. That endless ache you experienced had suddenly disappeared. "I'm all yours I promise," You whispered. Your arms wrapped around Wanda's shoulders to steady yourself. You bucked your hips in sync with the rhythm Wanda set. "Please, lemme cum, please."

Wanda's free hand rubbed your back as she continued to fuck you. "Shh, that's it, just let it out. " Her fingers continued to stretch you out as you rode them through your orgasm. "You look so good taking my fingers, you're just a needy little thing, aren't you?" She slowly laid you down on the mattress. "Do you think you could give me just one more? I promise to be gentle."

"I need you to fill me up." Your tongue dragged itself across your bottom lip before your teeth clamped down on it. You let Wanda push your legs upward and get situated between them. It had been so long since You and Wanda had sex, her gentleness was almost jarring. You half expected her to just snap and rip you apart. Yet, she had never been any sweeter. The soft kisses she placed down the inside of your thigh and the sweet praises that casually fell from her lips felt like heaven. "Please, Wanda, I need you so bad."

Wanda nodded and eased the dildo inside of you. "Shh, I know, baby, I know." Her hips pushed forward slowly. She fixated on the small bulge forming in your abdomen. Her hand pressed down against the bump gently causing you to squirm and whimper at her touch. "Oh, I bet you were so frustrated without me to take care of you." Her hand moved up to cup your cheek.

You leaned into Wanda's and let out a content sigh. It never ceased to amaze you how Wanda just knew what you needed. The way you could feel your wall desperately cling around the toy whenever she dared to pull out even the slightest bit. Being filled to brim and stretched just the way you liked. It was something you couldn't even give yourself. "Fuck, Wanda please I'm so close," You whimpered. Your back arched off the bed in an attempt to get closer to Wanda. The firm hand on the small of your back was the only thing keeping you from falling.

"That's it, show me how good I make you feel." Wanda leaned down to kiss you as your second orgasm shot though you. She hungrily swallowed every whimper and whine you let out. "You look so perfect for me, I love you so much," She whispered. She reveled in the way you hopelessly grasped at her shirt in an attempt to pull her closer. "Shh, breathe, I got you. Just relax for me."

You nodded and slowly let yourself fall down against the mattress. Despite your uneven breathing, your brain continued to run. All the fears you originally had about being with Wanda began to surface. What would Pietro think? Would it make your friendship weird? Would the others view you differently? What if they all stopped hanging out with you? They were childish concerns to have, but ones that plagued your mind nonetheless. “I’m so screwed, Pietro won’t ever talk to me again. " You huffed out.

"You think too much." Wanda laid down next to you and pulled you into her chest. Intimacy was a foreign thing in your relationship, but it started to feel increasingly natural. She placed a soft kiss on the top of your forehead while she played with the baby hairs on the back of your neck. "If you're screwed, then I'm screwed. Whatever shows up at your door in the morning, we'll deal with it together. Got it?"

"Got it."

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff imagine

1K notes · View notes

elsfleur · 11 months

Text

⋆·˚ ༘ * WHERE THE FLOWERS BLOOM | 0.1

ellie williams x reader x abby anderson

summary: the small tight knit city of jackson anticipates scandal in the arrival of brooding newcomer ellie williams who finds herself drawn to local flower shop girl, though she is not the only one.

content warning: this is a rewrite for something on my old account if it seems familiar, lightly nsfw content, modern!au and presence of original characters for the sake of world building. this is a slow burn fanfiction but hopefully worth the wait.

word count: 1,684

🪷 ʾ ⠀

you exchanged glances across the room as though sharing a secret in code neither of you fully understood but remained too stubborn to demand translation. abby, your abby, if you could call her that, was always the one to break eye contact first, a sip of her drink, a rub of her eyelids. months have passed since she had been truly vulnerable with you, a wretched mess of pouts and tears– the way she had arrived drenched by the rain, nearly falling against herself at your doorstep, begging for kindness, left you imagining terror scenarios for weeks. you held her till the shivers stopped and the sobs softened, dragged her muscular figure onto your bathtub and undressed her into the warm bubbly water.

and you felt sixteen again, caring for the girl who would not hold your hand in public but melt at your fingertips behind closed doors, she who was jackson high school’s basketball captain and miss all star in all her glory, she the daughter of a prestigious surgeon destined for great things and ivy leagues, she who dated owen from soccer but you the girl she truly wished to kiss.

she would call you her little secret as though it was endearing, a pet name, and it drove you sick to your stomach but you were down at your knees with her thighs pressing your cheeks and the moaning echoing louder than the wetness of your tongue by her clit– whenever she would brush the hair away from your face coo you pretty girl with her fingers down your slits you convinced yourself there were worse things to be than hidden, for starters: not hers.

dina caught on to your staring game, clearing her throat as she poured you a second drink in raised eyebrows and suggestiveness. your best friend and her unacquaintance of subtlety had stained your relationship with abby beyond repair, acting as though one trustworthy person having conscience of your affair was equivalent to a stab in the back, you remembered the way she’d screamed at you: i’m not gay! i just… i just liked you. just you. that doesn’t make me anything we are not the same! there were hardly excuses to be made, there were no repairs possibly done. you were an average nobody doomed to jackson and girls forever, whilst she was abigail anderson, trademarked by standing ovations, promising rising star.

you bitterly guessed her ego bested her once the injury happened, stealing away an nba future and a full ride ivy league sports scholarship until all that remained of her was the same honey blonde braid and a new pair of uniforms to replace the basketball jersey, sheriff slacks. abigal anderson, an average nobody doomed to jackson and girls forever, just with an added layer of self hatred on top. you dismissed both your old lover’s and best friend’s stare.

“i hope whoever rented the shop is nicer than flora was”

“i don’t mind either way as long as they’re as hot as flora is to make up for it–“ dina answered with a side smirk retorted by her on and off boyfriend eavesdropping a few tables away with a glare “you know anything about them, anderson?”

the entire town of jackson had stopped on its tracks to peek into the blacked out windows of what used to be flora’s bakery, an exciting guessing game at every arrival of trucks unloading black leather chairs and tall unopened boxes that according to jesse made heavy noises to the shake. the owner, whoever they may be, haven’t made their way to the building yet, and all pointed towards a newcomer. jackson wasn’t used to those.

abby licked her whiskey coated lips before speaking “didn’t take you for a gossip, dina”

“we both know you did”

her eyes were on you again, pale blue like a stormfront, searching your expression. abby anderson was a different kind of beauty, ragged around the edges, rough and sharpened. everyone guessed college would straighten that out of her, ivy league with the rich and powerful far enough from jackson you’d think nostalgia was a disease amongst the trophies and gpas. the cowards wouldn’t look her in the eye since the return, stamping failure further into her skull. she just drank.

“you should get them flowers” jesse cut the tension “from your shop, like a welcome to the neighborhood sorta of thing”

a silly game blossomed into your heart years ago, the inspiration for your flower shop really: how everyone you meet could be described by the floral language. dina thought hers too common, but it was your favorite, a daisy, standing for loyal love and “i’ll never tell”. jesse, a white jasmin, sweet love, amiability. even abby, forget-me-nots. you hoped to see the newcomer before blessing their arrival, if not, daffodils. new beginnings. a safe choice.

“i doubt they will like them” abby scoffed “it’s gonna be a tattoo shop, the owner, ellie, doesn’t really seem like the flowers and sunshine type of girl”

“tattoo shop” dina mused “hot”

🪷 ʾ ⠀

…and she was. the week had ran through you like water between your fingers and with daffodils in hand you were ready, flipping away the open sign from your shop and skipping towards your neighbor. hands busy with the plant pot, you pressed your face against the tinted glass windows as to search for the newcomers who had just hours prior been described to you over the phone with multiple flamable metaphors.

“are you looking for something?”

you were startled, nearly knocking down the vase in your hands and you understood, dina’s voice echoing gasoline, fondue, forest fire, cinnamon liquor through your brain to the point it fogged your response and reactions. freckles like starry war paint, eyebrow scar, pale green iris, peach pink lips, auburn hair gently brushing her shoulder at length. breathtaking, you immediately named the feeling, but she looked worn, tossed around. you blamed it on the lightly bruised eye she carried, caught onto sky grey vibes. you damned the daffodils, immediately thinking of something better: without knowing a single trait, you saw red carnations grow behind her in the way spiritualists would claim to see auras. red carnations; “my heart aches”.

she caught your eye for a second while awaiting your response, taking you in under her shuddering gaze in such precise detail you were sure all the lines and dots connected into the paiting of your face had made themselves a maze under microscope. she searched for something in you, a reaction, you barely even noticed how your breath had hitched until you ran out of air. her hand slowly reached towards your face in what appeared at first to be a cheek caress, before she tugged a leaf from behind your ear, stuck to your hair.

“uh yes! you! hi i’m your neighbor, the flower shop girl” you commented embarrassingly quiet, nodding your head at the leaf and the bouquet as though a flustered explanation.

“hi flower shop girl, i’m ellie”

ellie. you tasted her name on your tongue and melted into the feeling before she took the gift from you, arms extended. the heightened sleeve of her grey t-shirt exposed a beaming sun by her bicep, detailed sad expression in black ink across its center. you took notice of everything. ferns and a moth grew from her hand to the very end of her forearm and covered scars you could only assume to have been self inflicted. a sword pierced through the spare space of skin next to a phoenix and finally angel wings alongside a well hidden initial: J. you wouldn’t ask, but you wanted to.

“welcome to the neighborhood” you finally managed to say “those are daffodils, the flowers for new beginnings so i figured it fit”

“they’re beautiful, thank you” she answered, clearing her throat in uncertainty “anyways i have a tattoo appointment to get to in a couple of minutes, but it was nice meeting you”

“oh! yeah! of course! nice meeting you too, ellie”

you planned out your next meeting in your head, showing up with cookies as they do in the movies, catching glimpses of her sketches on the wall, giving them backstories to fill the gaps. it wasn’t so strange to be eager as you were taking into consideration how rare these opportunities had presented themselves: you never left jackson, not even on vacation. the world was meant to turn on its axis but you were destined to stay still, an agoraphobia rooted into your veins like movement would burst your chest open, bloody and broken. the flowers had been a therapist’s idea: to take care of something innocent as a purpose, exist outside the shell of a body you painfully cared for in pure obligation. your personal garden arsenal though, had meaning. yellow tulips, that’s what you were. the flower for unrequited love. the one tattooed by ellie’s hipbone you were yet to see.

too busy watching ellie walk away you barely caught abby’s gaze from the corner of your eye, her patrolling uniform perfectly neat and spotless in the same way she pretended to be, you too enthralled in the newcomer to watch her jaw clench. the return to your shop was hasty, the same daily people in line for a new centrepiece bouquet until the pleasantries and weather talk went quiet, jackson preparing itself for early slumber with the sunset.

🪷 ʾ ⠀

you were about to head up to your apartment when she opened the glass door, bells echoing out throughout the store “we’re closed” you called out, not turning around from your position rearranging pots until the heavy breathing made itself known to you, not following any steps towards the exit, the anxiety suddenly sending you shivers before your eyes could meet the entryway and harden at abby.

“we have to stop meeting like this-“

“shut up” she stopped you bluntly, in a stride finding her way towards your body and pressing it against the counter with her hips and grabbing your neck in a chokehold before rushing her lips against yours in a breathless sloppy kiss.

#abby anderson x reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #lesbian #abby anderson fanfic #ellie x reader #abby x fem!reader #elsfleur

270 notes · View notes

unboundprompts · 3 months

Note

hi im not able to consolidate a comprehensive storyline, i just have fragmented pieces of what i want to write.

Storyline- two best friends who are popular and are suffering from their own problems

character A is an athlete who is depressed after seeing his stats in recent matches

character B is also an athlete who rarely gets a chance to play in the matches which has tremendously affected his self esteem

also they kiss when they drink but they don't always remember and shrug it off as a mistake if they do.

Pls help me :)

Hi friend! It looks like you've got a great start, your story sounds like it has a good backbone to it. (I love the "also they kiss when they drink" lol it made me laugh)

I've got a couple ideas that might help you out, feel free to ignore them or alter them in a way that suits your story best.

Setting:

Are they college athletes? On an adult league? Professional athletes?

The setting of your story can help develop your plot and your characters, as well as provide extra obstacles for your characters to overcome.

If your story takes place on a college campus, your characters will have to worry about keeping up with their studies, balancing their friendships with their studies and their sports, etc. They'd also be living close together (maybe in dorms or a shared apartment near campus). You can have them go to college parties together, train at the gym together, etc.

If they are professional adult athletes, perhaps you can have them traveling to different places for their matches. Sitting together on the bus, the plane, etc, staying in the same hotel, spending time together at the hotel bar.

Their Relationship:

Are they athletes in the same sport? Teammates? Rivals?

I imagine Character A venting about their stats and Character B responding, "At least you get to play." They offer each other some comfort because they both understand what the other is going through to some extent.

Maybe some of their other teammates grow to dislike them because one of them is playing poorly and the other is a "benchwarmer." The two of them becoming outsiders on their own team force them to grow closer to one another (maybe reluctantly, in an enemies-to-lovers kind of way. One of them still clings to popularity and is rude to the other until they realize they are more of the same.)

After every game they go out to celebrate with the team (If they're in college, maybe it's at a party with other students. If not, maybe it's at a local bar). Somebody insults one of the characters, either for playing poorly or not playing at all, and the other comes to their rescue and defends them. (And then they kiss obviously)

I really love the idea that they both mutually want the other, but are too afraid to admit it so they just chock it up as a mistake. If you're looking to make their romantic relationship a part of your story, I think having one character in major denial about their feelings would suit this scenario very well.

The Root of Their Problems:

Maybe Character A is dealing with an outside problem (unrelated to the sport) that causes them to play poorly and their stats to drop. Their sport was a distraction to the problem, but it is being affected by their performance and it only makes their depression worse. They go from being a great player to having one of the lowest stats on the team. Will they ever open up to Character B about their problem?

Character B rarely gets to play (is it due to being underestimated by coaches? Do they not have good chemistry with any of the other players and therefore can't partner with anyone? Or are they unable to attend the matches for another reason? Why are they not being allowed to play?) and therefore has low self-esteem. What else does this low self-esteem effect? Their performance in classes? Their personality around friends? Does Character A notice? What does Character A do about it?

Will these problems ever escalate to a point that they quit their sport? Will the coach temporarily stop them from playing until everything is sorted out? And what kind of effect will these consequences have on your characters?

How do you plan to resolve their problems? Obviously, depression and a low self-esteem don't just go away. Will their relationship make it easier for them to cope with what's going on? Will they both begin to play in the matches better? Maybe they start to work together more than they did and their performance improves?

Timeline Suggestions:

I think if you start with having at least Character A still being a major player on the team and doing well, then seeing their performance slowly decline throughout the story will be more impactful to the readers (obviously just a suggestion).

If you go with the route that an outside problem is affecting their performance, you can reveal what that problem is early in the story, or maybe you'd like to save it for a moment between Character A and B when they're having a heartfelt conversation.

You could have the characters celebrate their match and establish the relationships between them during this scene through dialogue and actions. If Character B, at this point, is not playing in the matches and you want to start their relationship off rocky, then you could have Character A give them a hard time. If you want them to be good friends from the beginning, then Character A can drunkenly comfort them (and then they kiss?).

Slowly, Character A's problems are starting to affect them more severely. Maybe show them interacting with other people, have them not do good at practice, etc. If the coach would ever prevent them from playing later in the story, you could foreshadow this by having the coach sternly talk to them. Tell them to clean up their act and get it together.

Does Character B notice A's mood? Do they intervene? Does A appreciate this gesture? Does it start an argument or do they grow closer together?

First match since Character A has been off their game doesn't go well. Are they angry? Sad? Do they just shrug it off? Do their teammates tell them not to worry about it? Are they offered comfort or are people upset with them for not doing well? Did their team lose because of them? What does Character B do?

Their performance slowly continues to decline. How does this affect their mood? Does Character B offer them comfort? Try to talk to them about what's going on? How does their team react? Their coach?

If Character B tries to comfort A and it doesn't work, how does this make B feel? If A gets angry with B, how does B react to this? Does A notice their reaction? What do they do about it?

More bad matches that lower Character A's stats, and they feel like they've hit rock bottom. Maybe they finally open up to B about their problems and they have a heartfelt moment. Feelings begin to develop?

You could start to focus on their relationship more here. More drunken kisses, more motivational conversations. Maybe they start to practice and work out together more.

If you want to go this route with their relationship, maybe some other character starts to notice that they are getting oddly close. Maybe they bring it up to one of the characters and that scares them away. Alternatively, it could bring them closer together.

Raise the stakes. Perhaps the coach is unhappy with their performance and gives them an ultimatum? Their team turns on them? Their relationship is in rocky waters?

Begin to resolve the problems. Solidify their relationship (if you want them to get together as a couple, that is), have them find motivation for their matches.

And then happily ever after! Unless...

I hope this helps you! I love angsty scenarios so I feel like I set you up for a lot of heartfelt conversations and breakdowns in each other's arms. That might not be the direction you want to take but I just couldn't help myself haha.

Obviously, these are all just random ideas for you, you can take them or leave them. I'd love to see what you do with this story! If you end up posting on Tumblr, I'd love to be tagged so I can read it!

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

#I have no idea what to tag this #writing prompts #creative writing #writeblr #story prompt #prompts #ask box prompts #writing help #writing advice #writing tips

30 notes · View notes

pollenallergie · 1 year

Text

Eddisms

The much more aptly named sequel to “Eddie-isms”

As always these hc are miscellaneous and not in any particular order. Enjoy!

best friend!Eddie masterlist

reblogs are most appreciated!! :)

taglist: @gaysludge @heavymetalbabyy @luvrsbian @munsonology @tayhar811 @stolen-in-moonlight

Eddie is so insufferably loud in every single thing he does. It’s honestly a mystery how he managed to sneak up on Chrissy because that man can be heard from miles away. He’s so heavy-footed when he walks that it rattles the trailer a little bit from time to time. Nothing about that man is deft or graceful. <3

He snores and I mean SNORES. He always has, even as a little kid. At first, his snoring scared the crap out of Wayne, but now it’s just sort of become background ambience for his uncle. Wayne almost finds it reassuring, in a way; at least Eddie’s breathing, right? <3

Despite what Dustin says, Eddie has a very short temper. Granted, it takes a lot for him to get truly angry, but it doesn’t take much at all to get him cranky. In fact, Eddie’s just as much of a mean girl as Steve. Though he lacks Harrington’s resting bitch face, he’s absolutely just as bitchy. <3

Eddie’s always been obsessed with cars, but not in the way you might think. He doesn’t really give a shit about the typical sports cars or anything like that, what he finds the most fascinating are the niche, funky-looking cars. Citicars, Firebirds, Scarabs, he loves ‘em all. He’s especially a fan of station wagons and vans, probably because those were the kind of cars your mom always drove. His favorite of all time has to be the 1948 Tasco because it combines his favorite types of cars; weird looking ones and vans. He won’t ever admit it to anyone but you and Wayne, but he also really likes pick-up trucks; specifically the old, somewhat worn ones like Wayne used to have. <3

Eddie definitely had race-car bed sheets growing up. Honestly, he still uses them in the winter because they’re a lot warmer than his usual sheets. <3

He asked Santa for a race-car bed for six years in a row. For his ninth birthday, he finally got one. Though it was a hand-me-down from your older brother, he loved it like it was brand new. <3

As kids, you and Eddie used to “rescue” (kidnap) wild turtles and beg your mom and Wayne to let you keep them. <3

When he was six, Eddie got kicked out of little league baseball for mooning the umpire. </3

Eddie doesn’t use 3-in-1 shampoo, he does something way worse. He uses Irish Spring on every square inch of his body; hair included. His scalp is practically pleading for death at this point. <3

Eddie doesn’t see the point in using lotion, so he simply doesn’t. The most he’ll do is use vaseline on his lips when they get all dry and cracked in the winter. <3

Eddie’s routine is so simplistic that it’s really not much of a routine at all and, yet, it takes him nearly an hour to get ready every morning. Does that at all make sense? No. Nothing about this man makes sense, he’s an enigma, a silly lil enigma. Well, not so much of an enigma… The reason it takes him so long to get ready is because he moves like a sloth in the morning, getting ready in 0.25x speed due to his residual sleepiness. <3

Eddie watched Zardoz and made it his entire personality for like two years. Seriously, he quoted it non-stop for two years straight. <3

Eddie has a thing about toenails. Not feet in general, just toenails. They absolutely disgust him. He gags every time he cuts his own toenails. So, yeah, Eddie’s the kinda man to chew with his mouth open and belch in your face just for shits and gigs, but cower in fear when he’s faced with a human toenail. <3

I know I already said that Eddie cries when he watches emotional movies (The Color Purple, Old Yeller, etc.), but here’s the thing about Eddie… He’ll sob like a baby while watching those movies, sure, but while he’s actively sobbing he’s also making fun of you for doing the exact same thing. He’s like “You’re such a crybaby. *sniffle* It’s not even that sad. *sniffle, sniffle* God, who cries during the happy parts of movies?? *sob*” <3

Eddie used to steal your clothes so much that eventually you just cleared out a drawer in your dresser and filled it with clothes that you were willing to share with him. Of course, your clothes are too big for such a lithe lil stringbean like Eddie, but he still loves wearing them. You don’t mind much, though, because you get to reap the benefit of your comfiest t-shirts and sweatpants smelling like Eddie. <3

In direct response to you making a drawer for him in your dresser, Eddie went out, bought a bunch of comfy clothes in your size from Goodwill, and filled a drawer of his dresser with them, that way you’d both have drawers of shareable clothes at your respective homes. <3

One time Eddie walked into the living room wearing a baby pink t-shirt with some CareBears and a vibrant rainbow printed on the front, and Wayne almost keeled over from laughing so hard. His amusement was doubled when he noticed the matching pastel scrunchie in his nephew’s hair, something Eddie had also “borrowed” from you. <3

Eddie’s weirdly into soap operas, especially Dynasty. The man loves Dynasty. However, he’ll only watch soap operas when he’s high because he thinks it makes for a better viewing experience. <3

Eddie never wears boxers underneath his sweatpants nor under his pajama pants. Why? Because he’s a whore. Because he firmly believes that you should only wear underwear with uncomfy pants (for example, jeans) and that cozy pants do not warrant underwear; it’s just a waste of good, clean boxers to wear them beneath sweatpants and pajama pants. <3

All of Eddie’s shirts are either just a bit too tight or entirely too big for him. This man does not know his real shirt size. <3

Eddie does not wash his feet when he showers. He also rarely washes his arms or legs. He feels that you really only need to wash the “essential” parts when you shower; the essential parts being his armpits and naughty bits. <3

Eddie once got you a purse for your birthday… sort of. Really he just haphazardly sewed one of the straps from his backpack onto an old, cloth sack and painted the words “Miguel Cores” on the front of it. It actually works really well as a reusable grocery bag for all of your nonperishables. <3

Eddie’s right eye gets all twitchy after sleepless nights. The boys always see it and think that he’s pissed off about something, but really the sweet man just needs his rest. <3

Eddie sucks at holding grudges. I’m not kidding, the man is genuinely horrible at holding grudges, mostly because he often forgets about whatever has happened within a few days; his anger vanishing along with the memory of what’s transpired. Case in point, you both had a severe falling out during the summer before your freshman year, which ended up in the two of you being at odds for two whole years. Or, rather, it ended up in you being mad at him for nearly two years. Eddie, however, consistently kept forgetting that you were mad at him during that time. In fact, he would often approach you in the halls of Hawkin’s High so that he could banter with you like he had in middle school, only to be reminded of your steadfast dislike of him by your short responses, refusal to meet his gaze, tense posture, and clipped tone. </3

He chews his gum like a cow munches on grass, just annoyingly loud and with his lips constantly smacking together. <3

Eddie’s fancy, old-fashioned silver lighter -the only good thing he ever got from his shitty old man- also doubles as his preferred fidget toy. The man always needs to have something to do with his hands. <3

He’s a wizard with some sidewalk chalk. It used to drive you crazy as a kid because he would always do these really detailed drawings with the crumbly chalk that your mom got from the dollar store, meanwhile you were always just stuck writing your name or drawing hearts and stick figures. <3

At 10 years old, Eddie invented his own language while cooped up in the back seat of his uncle’s car on an annoyingly long summer road trip to Myrtle Beach. He hasn’t taught the language to anyone, not even to you, but sometimes you’ll hear him mumble things to himself in his strange tongue. You, Wayne, and your mom have picked up on the meanings behind certain words and phrases over the years, simply because he uses them so frequently, but other than that, it’s mostly gibberish to the three of you. <3

Eddie spent a solid two months trying to convince his elementary school crush that he was, in fact, Mick Jagger. He even nailed the Mockney accent from listening to his radio interviews. Unfortunately, they weren’t buying it. <3

Eddie refuses to touch you when/if you’re wearing anything made out of velvet simply because the feeling of velvet makes his skin crawl. So, no hugs, no playful wrestling, and absolutely no cuddles while you’re wearing velvet. <3

In the summer of ‘85, Eddie won a goldfish at one of the carnival games at the local fair and named him Tater Tot, but he knew that he couldn’t afford all the stuff the little guy needed to stay alive, so he gave him away to some little girl that had been trying to win one of her own for nearly an hour. <3

Let’s be real here for a second: Eddie’s not straight. Actually, due to a lack of terminology available to him, Eddie doesn’t really know what he is. He knows that he likes women, he knows that he likes men, and he knows that he likes people who are neither women nor men, but, given that it’s the 80s and he lives in rural Indiana, he’s not really sure if there’s a word for that. Truthfully, he’s not really sure if anyone else in the world even feels the same way that he does. Obviously, there are tons of people out there with the same sexual orientation as him, but, fuck, he doesn’t know that. When he was much, much younger he felt incredibly isolated and insecure about his sexuality, but as he’s grown up he’s become less unsure of himself and more accepting of his sexual orientation. Of course, he still likes to keep a low profile, at least when it comes to his sexuality, because, as I said, it is the 80s and he does, indeed, live in rural Indiana. However, he’s at least become confident enough to come out to his closest friends and family. Hence, the rainbow mug in the Munsons’ famous mug collection. <3

Eddie’s a crafty lil goblin, he loves to craft. Papier-mâché, fuck yeah. Hot glue, hell fuckin’ yeah. In fact, many of the props in the theatre room were crafted by Eddie during his time at Hawkins High. Even after he stopped doing theatre, he still always volunteered to help the drama club set up for their performances and craft their props. <3

“But why did he quit theatre?” one may ask. Well, there was the Great Egg Incident of ‘82, in which a bunch of upperclassmen (mostly jocks) literally threw eggs at the drama club during their spring production of Guys and Dolls. More specifically, their onslaught began right as Eddie began uttering his most iconic line in the show, “Nicely, nicely, thank you,” so Eddie, understandably, took that pretty personally. As a result, he left the drama club at the end of sophomore year and, instead, opted to focus all of his creative energy on the hellfire club. </3

You and Eddie took the same art class senior year and it was honestly one of the only classes he passed that year. Every Friday, you guys had to turn in a weekly sketch for that class and his favorite one that he’d done was of you; he’d drawn it while you were working on homework together at the picnic table near his trailer. At the end of the year, he’d asked the teacher for it back so that he could keep it. <3

Eddie’s a massive worrywart when it comes to the people he loves, that’s especially true when it comes to you. <3

Eddie once risked further social ostracism to help you take the little kids you babysit to Build-A-Bear when Starcourt Mall first opened up. In the end, you rewarded him by making him a stuffed animal of his own, a spotted dog named Ozzy who’s adorned in the most metal (or metal-adjacent) outfit Build-A-Bear had to offer. Perhaps that shouldn’t have been so rewarding for a 19 year old guy, but 1) he’d never really had many toys growing up, at least none quite as nice and soft as Ozzy the Dog, and 2) watching you kiss the little cloth heart before gently stuffing it inside the toy did funny little things to his supposedly cynical heart. He’ll never admit it, but he sleeps with that stuffed dog far more than a guy his age probably should. <3

Although Eddie never makes his own bed, he’ll gladly help you make yours because he knows that fitted sheets are the bane of your existence. <3

223 notes · View notes