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gunnerfc · 2 months

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One More Chance | Alanna Kennedy x Media!Reader (18+ ish)

Summary: You are a reporter for the upcoming Manchester derby and end up interviewing Alanna, your ex-girlfriend, after the match. It’s the first time you’ve seen her since the breakup and it brings back memories for the both of you.

Warnings: there are allusions to smut and a mention of masturbation but I don’t describe anything but still gave it the mature rating just in case! [angst with a happy ending]

WC: 3.3K

AN: this fic was kicking my ass and for no reason 💀😵‍💫 but to the anon that requested, I hope you enjoy!

Here you were, sitting in the stands watching Manchester City versus Manchester United in the rain. You loved your job, you got to report and interview players for one of the sports you loved watching, and in some cases, you got to travel the world for different games. However, being here in Machester meant the possibility of seeing your ex-girlfriend, Alanna, for the first time since she broke up with you even higher.

You had gone out of your way to avoid her; she had broken your heart, but a small part of you still loved her. Seeing her out on the pitch, playing the sport she loved brought back all the memories of when you would come to support her when you were dating. The rain didn’t make things better, you were wet and uncomfortable and the game still had fifteen minutes left of regulation.

Without realizing it, your eyes naturally found the tall Australian. You watched as she helped the defense keep City’s one-to-zero lead over their rivals, yelling out instructions to the midfield whenever a United player was on the ball. The rain might have been making things worse for you but you enjoyed seeing Alanna playing in the rain, even if you were supposed to be mad at her.

You watched the clock tick down, United was never quite able to capitalize on any of their chances. That is until the eighty-ninth minute when they broke through the high back line of City, but before a shot could be taken, Alanna tackled the ball away, sending it out for a corner. You subconsciously raised your fists with a quiet “yes!” as the City supporters cheered as Alanna’s teammates gave her a quick high-five as they set up to defend the corner.

The ball was delivered into the box perfectly but no one was able to head it into the back of the net before Khiara collected it. The City supporters cheered on their goalkeeper for keeping the ball out of the net to secure the win. Once the ball was back in play, you watched the fourth official hold up their sign signally one minute of stoppage time. You took a deep sigh as you gathered your things to move down to the field for the post-match interview, silently praying that it would be anyone but Alanna that you had to interview.

You watched the last few seconds of the game from the sidelines as your camera team set up near the home bench. The ref blew her whistle after the minute of stoppage time had passed, making Manchester blue. The City players celebrated on the pitch before shaking hands with their opponents and thanking the fans who came to watch. You went over the different questions you wrote in your notes app during the match, not paying attention to who was walking in your direction.

“Y/N, ready to go,” one of your team members asked from behind the camera just as you felt a familiar presence next to you. You didn’t have to look up to know the player that walked over was Alanna.

You cursed under your breath before you looked up to meet her eyes, neither of you made an effort to speak to the other before you heard your team count down to one. You took a deep breath before introducing yourself and Alanna to the camera before turning your body to face her.

Alanna’s eyes were locked on you the entire time you spoke, an arrogant smirk gracing her features as the interview went on. She knew you well enough to know what you were feeling and she’d be lying if seeing you again wasn’t affecting her. Alanna hated breaking up with you but at the time she thought it was the best thing she could have done for the two of you.

“Thank you for your time and congrats on the win,” you offered a fake smile to the camera and Alanna before your team signaled the camera was off.

You wanted to hurry up and get back to your hotel out of the rain and away from the Aussie. Before you could step away from the blonde, her hand reached out to wrap around your wrist to keep you close. You huffed in annoyance as you waited for her to speak, not wanting to hear what she had to say right now. Alanna didn’t give you any closure when she ended the relationship and even though you tried to move on, a part of you did want to hear what she had to say.

“Do you have a few minutes, please, y/n/n,” Alanna mumbled where only you could hear her, your nickname that she gave you falling from her lips effortlessly. You felt your face heat up despite the cold weather conditions hearing the pet name, you were more affected by her than you wanted to believe.

“No, not really,” if you continued to stand here in the rain with the blonde, you were sure someone in the crowd would pick up on it and there would be rumors circulating the internet before you could leave the grounds.

You pulled out of grasp and made your way to the exit with your team, putting as much distance as possible between you and Alanna. The car ride back to the hotel was silent, all of you were over being in the rain and were ready to shower before heading to bed. The whole ride back, your mind replayed some of your best memories with Alanna and you had to fight back tears.

Once you were back at the hotel, you quickly said goodnight to your team before sliding the key card into your door. You dropped all your things on the desk in the room before dropping into the desk chair, tiredness hitting from the long and wet day you had. You let out a small sigh as you rid yourself of the damp clothes and shoes before gathering pajamas to change into after your shower.

In the bathroom, you let the water heat up as you got ready to take a shower. You groaned when the warm water hit your skin, instantly warming you up. You did your shower routine pretty quickly, opting to let the water flow over your body once you were done. You stood under the showerhead with your head tilted back slightly as your thoughts were filled with the intimate moments with Alanna.

You replayed them in your head, each memory a bit dirtier than the last. Your breathing picked up slightly as your hands traced up and down your body. The warm water hit your body as you trailed a hand downward, needing to do something to get rid of the thoughts you were having about your ex-girlfriend.

A few moments later you turned the water off once it became colder and quickly exited the shower to find your towel. You got dressed and did your nighttime routine before leaving the bathroom, ready to fall asleep for the night. You hooked your phone up to the charger on your bedside table before hitting the lights, the only light illuminating the room was the TV.

Laying in bed, you tossed and turned trying to get comfortable but after twenty minutes it was no use. No matter how laid, nothing was comfortable enough to go to sleep. You huffed as you turned to your back, having an intense staring contest with the ceiling. You were ready to get out of Manchester and the quicker you fell asleep, the quicker that could happen. But it didn’t look like luck was on your side after about an hour and a half of not being able to fall asleep.

Your phone on the nightstand dinged with a text notification and you knew exactly who was texting you at this hour. You fought with yourself about whether you should check if you were right or if you should leave it until the morning. Your nosiness won out as you rolled over to turn your phone over, the bright light lighting up most of the room.

With squinted eyes, you saw that you were right. Alanna’s name at the bottom of your screen under the message app staring back at you waiting for a response.

alanna: are you up?

You debated on opening the message, knowing she would be able to see if you read her message. She hadn’t left your mind all day and now here she was at 1 AM asking if you were awake. You knew being in the same city again would make getting over her harder but you didn’t see yourself moving on anytime soon if you were honest.

You sighed as you clicked on the message, opening the app to send her a response.

you: what do you want alanna?

alanna: I need to see you, how far are you

You bit your lip as she replied almost immediately. You could tell her the truth, you weren’t that far from her apartment, or you could lie and tell her that you were nowhere near her and you wouldn't be able to see her.

You went with your heart instead of your brain as you texted her the name of the hotel and its address. You watched as she typed, nerves filling your body as you waited for what she had to say.

alanna: I’ll be there in five mins. be ready

Your eyes widen slightly at her message, you didn’t think she would actually come to get you. You quickly threw the hotel comforter off your body as you jumped up from the bed. You opted to just stay in the sweatpants and t-shirt you were already in but you stopped in your tracks when you realized the baggy shirt you were wearing was Alanna’s. You didn’t have time to try and change when your phone dinged again, Alanna’s text reading she was pulling into the parking lot.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your phone along with your hotel key before heading out the door. The entire elevator ride to the lobby you held your breath, you were nervous about being alone with Alanna again, especially after how affected you were at the game.

You spotted the blonde’s car the moment you stepped outside and quickly made your way to the passenger side. You took a deep breath before opening the door and getting in the car, Alanna already looking in your direction.

Neither of you spoke right away, too busy taking each other in. It had been almost a year since you’d seen each other in person and a year apart had been the longest you had ever been apart since you met each other a few years ago.

“Hi,” you both mumbled at the same time earning a small laugh from the both of you.

“I’m sorry for texting so late, I just figured you'd still be awake,” Alanna spoke as she backed out of the parking spot to head toward her apartment building.

“I was, I couldn’t sleep,” you muttered as you kept your eyes on the blonde. You took in her features for the first time in a year, not that you could forget just how good she looked.

“I remember you’re not the biggest fan of hotels,” Alanna said as she sent you a small smile. The blonde was right, you hated sleeping in any bed that wasn’t your own. It seemed like a small thing to remember but you felt your face heat up at the fact she remembered these little things about you.

You responded with a light ‘mhm’ as you watched the dark city pass by. The drive back to Alanna’s apartment was a familiar one and you knew it by heart. The drive back didn’t help in forgetting things that happened in your relationship, each time you passed a place you and Alanna went to on a date, it was all you could think about.

Neither of you spoke the rest of the way there, but both of you were nervous. Your breathing was heavy and Alanna could feel her palms grow sweatier. She didn’t think you would hear her out at this time of day but she was going to take any chance you gave her. The Aussie would be lying if she said she didn’t miss you or regret breaking up with you.

After arriving at the familiar apartment building, you took the elevator in silence, neither of you were sure what to say just yet. Alanna led you down the hallway and every memory you had of the two of you stumbling down the hallway as your lips moved against each other came rushing back. You were upset at the blonde but you needed to feel her lips on yours again.

You waited outside Alanna’s door as she unlocked it, gesturing for you to enter first. Looking around her apartment, you could tell not much as changed, just the little touches of you were gone. You frowned at all the pictures of the two of you not being up anymore, even though you understood why.

“Do you want something to drink or anything,” Alanna called out from the kitchen as you took a seat on her couch.

“Water would be nice,” you yelled back, uncertainty filling your body as you debated on trying to make yourself feel at home or keeping to yourself.

Alanna joined you after a minute, handing you a glass of water as she moved passed you. You mumbled a quiet “thanks” as she took a seat a few inches from you. She knew she should give you some space, but she couldn’t help needing to be close to you again.

“I wanted to explain everything, which I know I should have done a year ago but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Which I know isn’t fair to you,” Alanna rushed out before you could say anything. You didn’t try to interrupt her, you knew once she started talking about something she needed to get all her thoughts out before you should respond.

You slowly nodded your head as you took her words in, waiting for her to continue. Alanna took a deep breath before she spoke again, “I was worried about people finding out about us being together.” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, when you went over every possible reason for Alanna breaking up with you, this was not what you were expecting.

Alanna raised her hand slightly as you opened your mouth, telling you to let her finish. “I wasn’t worried about people’s opinions, that doesn’t matter to me. I was worried because I didnt want it to mess up your job, you had just started getting big opportunities and I didnt want people to think it was because you were dating a player. I didn’t want them to question your talents or whether or not you deserved to get those jobs because of your personal life,” the blonde explained as she fiddled with her fingers.

You kept your gaze locked on her side profile as she refused to meet your eyes. Her reasoning was much sweeter than the ones you came up with when you were angry at her a year ago. “You deserved to get those jobs because of your skills, not because of me and I thought breaking up with you would be easier,” she finished as she finally turned to look at you.

“I wish you would have just talked to me, Alanna. I would have understood where you were coming from and we could have talked about it a year ago before all of this,” you sighed. You understood the defender’s explanation but that doesn’t change the fact that you still got your heart broken.

“I know that, but I panicked! I didn’t mean to hurt you, I really didn’t,” Alanna sniffled, you could see in her eyes how much this hurt her as well.

You didn’t respond for a moment as you debated your words, not sure what you wanted to say. You still loved her, nothing would change that and you were glad the breakup wasn’t because of unfaithfulness or anything of that nature. Though, you weren’t sure if you were willing to just jump back into a relationship with the defender.

“I’m glad you told me the truth, even if it was a year later,” you joked, hoping to lighten the mood just a bit. Alanna laughed lightly at your words as she nodded softly.

“I would have listened then had you told me how you were feeling, I get where you’re coming from. I think it’s sweet how much you care about my career, but what’s the point if I can’t be with the person I’m in love with,” you declare, your voice strong and unwavering as you slide closer to Alanna.

You took her hands in yours and held them tightly as you kept speaking. “I love you, that hasn't changed in a year and I don't think it ever will. But I don't know if I can just jump back into a relationship if I don't know if you won't talk to me about something before making these big decisions,” you finished as you leaned closer to the Aussie.

“I get that,” Alanna started as she squeezed your hands slightly, “I really do.” Alanna tilted her head up some to give your forehead a small kiss before leaning back some. The blonde used to always give you forehead kisses randomly throughout the day and it used to always make you feel so loved.

“Maybe we start over,” you offered, you weren’t giving up on your relationship, not when you were still in love with her.

“I’d like that,” the blonde spoke with a content sigh but you could tell she wanted to say more.

“But what,” you asked with furrowed brows.

“But, I really want to kiss you right now,” the blonde spoke as her eyes dropped to your lips. You subconsciously liked your eyes as you watched her eyes lock on your lips.

You didn’t respond, instead, you leaned in meeting her lips. Your mouth moved against hers slowly, neither of you wanted to overdo it. A year without kissing her was hell and you missed having her lips on yours.

The kiss would have kept going but a yawn escaped from your lips, breaking the two of you apart. Alanna laughed lightly as you moved one of your hands to cover your mouth, the other hitting her arm lightly.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow,” Alanna asked as she looked at her phone to check the time.

“We were gonna stay an extra day to make up for the shitty weather so everyone else could explore Manchester,” you said before another yawn hit. You were exhausted and the long day you had was catching up to you.

“You could stay here then, you’d actually get some sleep that way,” Alanna shrugged, knowing that if you went back to the hotel, there was no way you would get a good night’s rest.

“You don’t mind,” you asked, not wanting to overstep.

Alanna rolled her eyes before standing from the couch, offering her hand to pull you up. You let the blonde pull you to her room before you both got under the covers. Without thinking about it, you cuddled into her side, resting your head on her chest as one of her hands wrapped around your shoulders.

“Goodnight, Lani,” you mumbled as sleep quickly took over and you were out.

Alanna kissed your forehead before closing her eyes with a small smile on her face. She was glad she was able to explain and that you were willing to give her one more chance. She wasn’t going to mess this one up.

#woso x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #man city women x reader #alanna kennedy x reader #alanna kennedy

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cosmicflw3rr · 9 days

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I NEED A FIC WHERE READER GETS HURT DURING RHEAS MATCH AT RINGSIDE AND DOM GETS ALL PROTECTIVE AND STUFF

care for me.

dominik mysterio x fem! reader

summary: getting injured was the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened to you at this stage in your career. dealing with the injury alone was impossible, you needed to let someone care for you. he was that someone.

A/N: this oness longgg😭😭 I got carried away guys I’m sorry😔 and I also kinda don’t like this but yea, I changed it a bit so I’m sorry if it’s not what you were looking for😔😔.

you were about to preform your finisher, a corkscrew senton from off the top rope. you had practiced it countless times and knew that you could pull it off, but it was still nerve-wracking every time. as you looked around at the crowd, the cheers and chants grew louder and more intense, urging you on. you could feel their energy coursing through you, giving you the strength and courage to take the leap.

as asuka rose to her feet, so did you. spotting a gap, you launched into a flip. but as you were about to collide with asuka, she sidestepped. you feet hit the ground with a jolt, a sharp cry escaping you as pain spiked through your right leg.

you crumpled to the floor, gripping your leg tightly, tears streaming down from the intense pain. the referee rushed over, bombarding you with a flurry of questions.

"are you okay?" overwhelmed, you could only respond with your actions, nodding before your voice could catch up. "can you continue the match?" once more, you managed to nod in, despite knowing you should've told him to end the match and acknowledged the pain, you stayed silent.

the referee stepped away, and asuka approached you, yanking you up by your hair hair before shoving you down. you winced, your hand instinctively reaching for your leg. she then snatched your leg away from you and delivered a kick that had you crying in pain.

she kicked your leg again, before locking it into a single leg boston crab. the pain was unbearable, and you found yourself tapping out frantically, your screams echoing in the air.

tears streamed down your face as you pleaded for her to stop. the referee quickly intervened, in an attempt to get her to cease the hold.

"get her off! get her off!" you pleaded with the referee, screaming for him to help you. finally, he managed to separate her from you, but the damage had already been done.

as asuka dancing around to her music, you gripped your hurt leg, tears streaming down. the ref assisted you to sit up, bombarding you with questions that your mind just couldn’t comprehend.

overwhelmed by the pain in your leg, the cheers, and the barrage of questions from the referees, “I can’t move it!” you cried out in frustration, “I can’t move it!!”

"listen," the ref urged, your sobs hushing as you looked at him. "we gotta take you to the medics."

"get dominik, please," you pleaded, your tears subsiding as you covered your face.

"I understand, but we need to get you medical attention first." the referee said, then another ref arrived, both assisting you to your feet.

they supported you out of the ring and onto the floor, your right leg lifted to avoid touching the ground. the audience applauded as you slowly but surely headed backstage.

when you guys reached the medical, the carefully set on the exam table, a wince escaping you as you shifted for comfort. “someone please get dom.” you told them as more tears escaped your eyes.

———

dom was backstage, eyes glued to your match. you were putting up a good fight. he watched as you climbed the ropes, hitting your chest, before doing the shoulder shimmy with your tongue out, paying homage to the late great eddie guerrero.

a soft chuckle escaped him, totally amused. he watched you launch off the ropes, fully expecting to land the move and put asuka away.

as soon as he saw her dodge and your legs buckle beneath you, crashing to the mat, he sensed something was wrong.

he straightened up, hand going to cover his mouth, worry washing over him as the cameras zoomed in on you, clutching your leg.

the camera caught the tears that were streaming down your face while the ref bombarded you with questions. dom glanced at damian beside him, both of them etched with worry.

turning back to the match, dom’s heart was racing.

dom saw the agony in your expression, but you gave a nod, and the ref backed off – he knew you were stubborn and were gonna be set on finishing the match. "what are you doing, amor," he muttered under his breath, cracking his knuckles nervously.

he felt totally powerless watching the attack . asuka approached, yanked you by the hair, and slammed you down.

watching her go after your injured leg, dom felt the anger boiling up inside. she was being ruthless on purpose.

he knew the industry – it's all about the win at the end of the day. but there's also an unspoken rule about keeping it safe enough so no one gets seriously hurt in the ring.

dom’s face twisted in a wince as he saw her strike your leg once more, locking in a single leg boston crab. your cries of pain pierced the air while you tapped out desperately.

the bell rung signaling the match's end, but asuka wouldn't release you. dom could hear your pleas on the TV, begging her to stop. his anger surged as the ref had to pry asuka away from you.

she showed no concern, just preoccupied with her win. dom watched, tense, as the refs swarmed to your side.

“what the fuck was that?" he muttered, taking a deep breath to mask his anger.

damian gave his shoulder a reassuring pat, "go check on her, I'll fill in the others." with a nod, dominkk acknowledged as damian left.

he glanced at the screen, shutting his eyes briefly at the sound of your distress. risinv swiftly, he left the screen behind, urgency driving him as he hurried to find you.

———

In the medical room, joseph, the medic was trying to talk to you, "we need to start checking out your leg to see what's wrong."

you shook your head, tears streaming down. "no, I'm waiting for dominik."

"but—“

"where the hell is he?" you snapped, the words coming out sharper than intended, pain and frustration getting the better of you.

"where is she—?" he stopped mid-sentence as he spotted you and stepped inside. "what happened? are you alright?" dom asked, just having come into the room. he moved closer, gently cradling your face and planting a kiss on your forehead.

feeling his presence, you eased up. "finally."

even with the comfort of his presence, you couldn't help but start to fall apart. he wrapped you up carefully in a soft hug, mindful not to cause you any more pain.

tears streamed down as you clung to him. "It's fucking hurts, dom. It hurts really bad," you wept, squeezing your eyes shut, the agony in your leg overwhelming.

his expression shifted to deep worry at your sobs. gently, he eased back, cradling your face in his hands, coaxing you to meet his gaze. "hey, look at me, please, look at me."

opening your eyes, you met his gaze, a frown etched on your face from the pain. you wished you could just vanish into thin air. your crying softened as you looked at him.

tears welled up again, the timing couldn't be worse—you were at the height of your career, and an injury was the last thing you needed. you attempted to steady yourself, but the mix of pain and stress was starting to wear on you.

he was worried for you, and felt how broken you felt. he felt powerless and wanted to do more to ease your pain. he spoke reassuringly, “you’re going to make it through this, just hold on. I'm right here with you, and everything's going to be alright." you nodded, brushing away your tears.

yet, new tears found their way down your cheeks.

joseph spoke up, addressing dom, "she refused any examination until you got here." Instead of scolding you, dom simply took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

you squeezed back, feeling utterly shattered inside—this injury was a nightmare come to life.

with that, joseph set to work, conducting the necessary tests on your leg. it wasn’t long before he returned with the results. you glanced up at him, your eyes pleading for him to tell you good news, as anxiety knotted your insides.

he gave you a sympathetic look, bracing to deliver the difficult truth. "I'll be honest with you, y/n. and there’s just no easy way to put this, but It's a torn ACL and meniscus."

you bit your lip, holding back the tears. the room was silent until he spoke again. "you probably know a bit about this injury," you nodded. he took a seat on the bed across from you.

"given the severity of your injury, it won't heal by itself. surgery is necessary. It's less common to have a meniscus tear alongside an ACL tear."

"post-surgery, you'll need plenty of rest. then we'll have you gradually start rehab to build strength and mobility in your leg."

you held onto dom’s hand tightly. "how long am I gonna be out?" you murmured.

"you might be out for 6-9 months, maybe a year in the worst-case scenario. It all hinges on how well rehab goes and your recovery process. we've got to be thorough to ensure your leg is back to its best."

a feeling of disappointment hit you. "a year?" you said softly, barely above a whisper.

"It's not a guarantee you’ll be out that long," he reassured, and you nodded faintly. "but we have to be realistic—it's a pretty long recovery," he continued.

you nodded again, masking your emotions. "I'm going to review the other tests we did on your leg. I'll talk to your doctors and we can go over your next steps when I return," joseph said, then left, leaving you and dom in a quiet bubble. the two of you just sat there, enveloped in the stillness.

dom could tell you were reeling from the news, respecting your space and thoughts. he quietly held your hand, providing a comfort while you processed everything.

he couldn't do much, but his support was clear. he believed in you, confident that you'd get through this.

meeting your gaze, dom spoke up his voice steady. "you’ve been through a lot, y/n/n, and you have always made it through. this is just another hurdle. you’ll get past this one too. everything’s going to be okay."

at his reassuring words, the dam burst, and tears cascaded down your cheeks, your hand muffling the sobs.

dom wrapped you in another tight embrace, tenderly wiping your tears and cradling you as you wept. he stroked your back, trying to ease your pain with his comforting touch.

"shhhhh baby, it's gonna be okay. you're gonna be okay." dom whispered, his voice soothing.

"It's just... this has been my dream since I was a kid," you managed to say between shaky breaths, struggling to steady your voice. "I’m at this huge part of my career, a part where-" your words were swallowed by sobs.

your tears began to subside, replaced by soft sniffles. "I'm at this point in my career, where I’m the top—" you paused as tears continued to fall, and you let out a sigh, gazing upwards. "I'm at the top, everything's going great, and now I have this injury and-."

"hey," dom interjected gently, halting your rush of words. he wasn't trying to downplay your feelings, but he wanted to make sure you understood this wasn't the end. his hands cradled your face, guiding your gaze to meet his with kindness.

“I know, I know. but this isn't the end. the last thing I want is for you to believe that all your hard work and dedication is going to waste." you sighed looking up, you knew he was right. but it just felt so hard to come to term with it at this moment.

———

a few weeks later

resting in the hospital bed with nurses bustling around, prepping for surgery, you glanced at dominik, a wave of nerves hitting you. yet you felt a little more secure knowing you had the best surgeons on your service.

dominik leaned in close, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, whispering just for you, "you'll be okay. they'll take care of you, mi vida."

his gentle voice enveloped you in a blanket of security. "I know, I'm just a bit nervous," you replied with a faint smile.

he kept his hold on your hand, his thumb gently caressing the back of it. "you shouldn't be," he murmured, "there’s no reason to be nervous, I’m gonna be right here until you get out and your parents are on the way, everything will be okay."

the nurses signaled it was time for surgery, he stepped back, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, leaving you with the lingering sense of his comforting warmth.

"I'll be right here," he whispered, giving your hand another squeeze, "te amo."

"I love you too," you responded, feeling his kiss on your forehead followed by a tender kiss on your lips. the nurses began to wheel you away to the operating room, where the stark brightness of the hospital lights was the last thing you saw.

———

your eyes gradually open, the glaring lights making you squint. glancing around, you spot dominik beside you, his thumb soothingly stroking your hand.

gazing at your leg, you notice the brace snugly fitted and bandages beneath it. the beep of monitors fills the air, and a chill from the hospital room wraps around you.

"hey," dominik's voice is a gentle whisper, "how are you feeling?" his hand gives yours a reassuring squeeze. "don't worry, mi vida, everything went well."

"hey," your voice comes out a bit rough, but you manage a soft smile in response.

"are you okay?" he murmurs, concern flickering across his face as he hears the rasp in your voice. he glances at the monitors, checking they're all reading normal, then turns back to you. "are you thirsty?" he asks gently, his eyes filled with care.

you nodded, he grabbed a big jug of water from your bedside table. he grabs the straw, holding it up to your mouth and helping you take a sip of water. you realize how thirsty you were, you drank quickly taking a few sips to quench your thirst.

“better?” he asked, putting the jug down you were done drinking water, you nodded.

suddenly, your gaze moves to the chairs in the room, you see your parents you smile. "mom, dad," you greet them with a gentle yet happy tone. they approach, your dad planting a soft kiss on your forehead while your mom takes your hand in hers.

dominik watches closely as you interact with your parents, he watches them both interact with you with such affection, he can see your face light up when you see them.

he observes the tender scene for a moment, then turns to you with a small, smile. "how are you feeling honey?" your mom asked.

catching her question, you respond, "I'm okay, just a bit sore," your voice scratchy from not talking.

"I’m going to go tell the doctors you woke up." dominik announces before he leans in, whispering, "back in a sec," and plants a gentle kiss on your cheek before exiting the room.

a smile lingers on your face as you turn to your parents. noticing their exchange of smiles, you ask, "what?" with a hint of curiosity.

your mom gently sweeps your hair aside. "he hasn't left your side since you got back from surgery," she shares.

"how long was I asleep?" you asked curiously.

after a brief pause, she calculates, "the surgery took roughly 2 and a half hours, and you've been resting for about three hours since. so, around five hours, more or less."

Surprised, you say, "he didn't get up once? not even for food or like to use the bathroom?"

with an amused look, your mom replies, "nope, he refused to leave your side, I tried to tell him to go take a break but he wouldn't leave. he insisted on staying."

as you reflect on it, butterflies flutter in your stomach. It's reassuring to know he stayed by your side, just as he promised.

you briefly close your eyes, "you tired?" she asked, you nod, allowing your parents to have their own conversation, a mix of worry and relief for your well-being.

a few minutes pass, before the door swings open, and dominik enters to the room. you stir awake at the sound of the door opening and closing.

he greets you with a warm smile, gently caressing your hand and planting sweet kisses on your forehead.

you smile back, and right on cue, dr. smith enters the room. your parents step aside, allowing the doctor to check the monitor next to you, ensuring that everything is running smoothly and your vitals are stable.

dominik stepped back to give the doctors space to examine you.

after the doctor finished up examining you, the looked at you, "your surgery was successful, and we've reconstructed your ACL and meniscus." you glance at your leg propped up on a hospital pillow and nod. "we’ll keep you here for a night or two to monitor your healing progress before deciding on the next steps."

"okay," you said a polite smile on your face as the doctor excused himself and left the room.

your parents embraced you warmly, your dad planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, before they headed out to the cafeteria. you mom told dom to call them if there was any problem or if you needed them.

dominik watches your family leave the room, leaving it completely quiet and still inside, he turns to you, “you alright, amor?” he whispers.

your eyelids were heavy as you murmured, "yeah, I'm good."

a gentle smile crossed dominik's face, noticing how tired you were. he tenderly swept a stray hair from your forehead. "want to get some more sleep?" he asked quietly.

with your eyes closed, you replied, "no, I just need to rest my eyes for a little while."

understanding, dom reached for his phone to update rhea and the rest of the judgment day, letting them know you were awake and all was well.

"rhea and everyone was pretty worried—" dom’s words trailed off as he glanced back to find you already dozing off, gentle snores escaping you.

he gave a tender smile and then did what he knew would be best for you right then. He took the blanket from the foot of your bed, draped it over you, and after positioning a chair near your bedside, he sat down to stay close.

———

as your blinked your eyes open, the room glowed with the soft light of early morning. near your bed, dominik was eating.

"good morning," you said, a sleepy smile on your face as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

dominik caught your voice, glancing your way, before flashing a smile. "morning, baby," he greeted, leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. the subtle, soothing scent of his cologne filled the air, calming you down.

"you grabbed some food?" you asked, your stomach rumbling a bit.

"no, rhea and damian dropped it off. they were going to stay till you woke up, but had to catch a flight to the next show," he explained, and you nodded, totally getting it. he motioned to his meal that looked like it came from the dunkin' donuts nearby. "they got something for you too," he said, sliding over with your food in hand.

"they also got your favorite coffee," he mentioned, pulling up a chair. “do you wanna eat now or later?”

"definitely now," you replied, your hunger making itself known loud and clear.

dominik gave a nod and set the food on the hospital bed tray before you. "everything feeling okay? any pain?" he asked gently, his eyes following you as you started to eat.

you shook your head, mouth full of food, swallowing it before you spoke, "just sore, so it's a bit uncomfortable."

he smiled, seeing how eagerly you were eating. "looks like you're enjoying breakfast.”

"mhmm, it's really good," you managed to say between bites.

"don’t worry when we get out of here, I’ll take you to get dunkin again." he chuckled, amused by your enthusiastic eating.

"please do," you agreed, slowing down a bit. you set the sandwich down, still chewing, as you looked at him.

"you’re the cutest when you eat, you know that?" he murmured with a soft smile, then took a bite of his own sandwich.

you gave a playful eye roll in response. "how's that even cute?" you chuckled, questioning the logic.

"I can't explain it," he chuckled, "you just remind me of a baby dinosaur." he laughed, taking a sip of his coffee.

you burst out laughing. he beams at you. "you don't think so?" he teased, and you just smiled, taking another bite.

you caught him looking your way again before he gently asked, "everything taste okay?"

"yeah, it's perfect, thanks.”

"good," he smiled, then took another bite of his food. “I can’t wait till we get you home,” he said, eyes flicking up to you as he continued eating.

you finished off your sandwich, murmuring, "me too." after wiping your hands, you reached out for his.

he set his sandwich aside and took your hand, fingers intertwining. the warmth from his hand infused into yours.

a small smile played on his lips as he looked at you, "thank you," you said to him.

he glanced at your interlocked hands, noting the size difference with a smile. "of course," he responded gently, appreciating the closeness.

he brought your hand up placing a gentle kiss on it, before giving it a reassuring squeeze, “no seriously, for everything.”

he was silent for a bit. "you don't need to thank me for being there and caring about you." his grip on your hand tightened gently. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

looking at you, his eyes brimmed with fondness. "te amo," he said gently, content to remain just like that for eternity.

"I love you too," you replied with a playful pause, "If you really love me, you'll let me have a sip of your coffee."

he chuckled quietly, "i guess." he said sarcastically after taking a quick sip, you hit his arm lightly as he lifted the cup to your lips for you to drink. It was pleasantly warm and delicious.

"thanks, babe."

with a grin, he replied, "anytime, amor,"

LIKED BY DOMINIK 35, RHEARIPLEY_WWE, ARCHEROFINFAMY, NIKKIGARCIA & 5 MILLION OTHERS

y/n: acl tear has got nothing on me.💪

VIEW COMMENTS

dominik_35: hurry back hermosa, shits not the same without you 🖤

y/n: love you baby🖤

rhearipley_wwe: I need you back to help me deal with the boys😔 heal up soon 🤍

y/n: dw I’ll be back before you know it💗

archerofinfamy: we have your back forever, heal up chiquita💜⚖️

y/n: thank you damian💜

yaonlylivonce: can’t wait for you to come back. 🤍

y/n: love you girlie🤍

archerofinfamy: we have your back forever, heal up chiquita💜⚖️

y/n: thank you damien🤍

jd_mcdonagh: it took an injury to stop you. hurry back sis, we miss you already! ⚖️🖤

y/n: 🖤🖤

finnbalor: you’ll come back stronger and better 💯💜

y/n: 🤍

wwelover: i miss her sm😖

ethereal.st4rr: women’s division isn’t the same without her😒.

nikkigarcia: been there! here to tell you it gets better! you’ll be back and better before you know it!! 🤍

y/n: ❤️❤️

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio imagine #dominik mysterio x reader #fanfic #the judgement day #the judgment day x reader #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagines

108 notes · View notes

featherandferns · 10 months

Text

underneath the gloves (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | the final part of the F.W.B universe, but can maybe be read as a stand-alone

content warning: mentions of drug use; fighting; mentions/discussions of SA/trauma (see here for context, or feel free to message and ask)

word count: 7k

Blurb: after you lose a match, things seem to spiral out of control. it seems to come to a head after a confrontation with Kelce, leaving you to confess to JJ why you sometimes are the way you are.

Your ears are still ringing. Head pounding like it had been thumped against concrete, over and over; brain feeling as though it had been rattled around your skull. Knuckles and fists aching. Limbs screaming for reprieve. Knees and hands on the floor. Chest heaving. Panting for air. Unable to stand. There’s only one thought, running on repeat:

You lost.

The crowd in the school gymnasium is cheering. Applaud and hollers and whoops. But none of it is for you. It’s for Beth Sunder, the Kook girl that you were so sure you could beat. She was smaller than you; not as accomplished. It should have been an easy win. Why wasn’t it an easy win?

There’s an arm on your bicep, helping you to your feet. You somehow stand, body crying out for rest. As you face the crowd, eyes unfocused, you still think the same thought. You lost.

You don’t look over to Beth as the ref holds her arm up in the air. You don’t look out to the crowd – search for the faces of your friends, your parents, JJ. You decide to stare at the floor, breathing heavy. You lost.

It’s on instinct that you leave the ring once it’s appropriate for you to be dismissed. You don’t do the sportsman thing and congratulate Beth. Don’t even look at her. How can you? If you meet her gaze, you’ll only hate yourself more. It should’ve been an easy win. The gloves come off first, and the bandages, letting your hands breath. You wince as you stretch out your fingers, feeling them scream. The mouthguard gets spat out into the sink. Your coach seems to know to leave you alone. Heading to the showers, you shrug out of your clothes and stand under the scorching stream. It doesn’t help. Everything feels vacant; like you’re floating through life, not really there. Wash your hair, your body, your face. Dry off and change into your joggers and a tee. Barely brush your hair and don’t bother to style it or tame it back. When you look in the mirror to inspect any injuries, there’s that voice again. You lost.

You look into your eyes. There’s some bruising coming up underneath the right. Your lip’s split. No tears come. The adrenaline hasn’t faded yet from the fight. It’s still pumping around your body, and it seems to fuel anger. You sigh and shake it off. Grabbing your gym bag, you hang up your gloves in your locker and tie your shoelaces.

September air is sticky and dense, doing nothing to sooth the anxiety building under your skin. The Pogues are waiting outside the school gym for you, with the Twinkie. John B and Sarah sit in the front, with Kiara and Pope in the back. The back door is open. JJ leans against the passenger side, arms crossed over his chest. When he sees you, he offers a smile. His expression and everything about his demeanour scream sympathy and pity, and it makes you feel sick. You lost.

JJ doesn’t say anything. Just holds out his hand to take your gym bag. You almost toss it at him, climbing into the back, collapsing onto one of the seats. Your body cries out in thanks as you lean against the wall with a pained sigh, tipping your head back and closing your eyes.

“How you doing?” Kiara asks.

You purse your lips.

How are you doing? You lost – how do they think you’re doing?

“Fine,” you mumble.

There’s the sound of the door sliding shut and you feel JJ take the spot beside you. Your arms are folded over your chest. He settles on patting your knee, squeezing it in consolation, and it takes everything in you not to shrug it off. Your mind isn’t on the conversation that awkwardly starts up between the gang. It’s on the fight. Replaying every swing. Every punch that you should have dodged and every hit that you should have landed. That last one that Beth ducked out the way of, and her upper cut that had you falling to the ground, vision blurry, jaw close to snapping. It was obvious. You would’ve seen it coming from a mile away if you were watching it unfold from the crowd.

“How’s that sound, babe?”

You seem to register that it’s JJ talking, and that whatever he’s just asked is directed to you. Opening your eyes, you look to him in question. His hand is still on your knee and he squeezes again.

“Up for a house party?”

“Sure,” you say.

“You don’t have to,” Pope offers from the floor. You look over to him and shrug. Stretching out your arms, you sigh.

“Why not? Free booze, right?”

“Yeah, but is it best to drink after a fight? According to research, after a head injury—”

“Dude,” JJ says, cutting Pope off on his spiel.

The intelligent boy closes his mouth and nods, apologetic, looking out the window. You feel bad. You didn’t mean to bring down the energy for the night. It’s then that you notice how tense it is in the Twinkie. The radio’s on but it’s so quiet and makes everything feel ten times worse. Nobody wants to look at you. You hate it.

“He’s not wrong,” you say, finding a chuckle. “Probably not best to drink but when I am ever one to do the smart thing?”

“You’re not JJ,” Kiara can’t help but joke. JJ flips her off. You force a laugh. Pope seems to come back around, smiling at you.

“Guess he’s rubbing off on me,” you shrug, winking at the innuendo. Sarah must’ve spotted this in the rear-view mirror because she cringes, groaning out your name in disapproval.

“Gross.”

The group laughs, finding their rhythm again. JJ squeezes your knee for a third time, catching your attention. His eyes almost make your persona break: that everything’s fine, and that you’re okay with losing. Like it’s not eating you alive, making you want to crawl out of your skin, peel off your nails, and tear out your hair.

“You sure?” he quietly asks.

No, you’re not sure. The smart thing to do would be to go home, or back to the chateau, and sleep. Come to terms with the loss in your own time, in your own way. Eat something, since you’ve been fasting most of the day and burnt off your energy in the hour-long fight. Drink water and not cheap beer and vodka-heavy cocktails. Curl up in bed to your comfort show, ideally with JJ by your side, pulling you into his chest.

But JJ’s never seen you lose before. You never wanted him to. And you don’t want his friends thinking you’re some lame chick who can’t deal with a loss in a fight that doesn’t even count towards anything. So, you smile and nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you tell him, saying it in a way that makes it seem like he’s crazy for checking.

JJ doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything. Just nods, eventually, and looks back to the front. You worry he’s mad at you, or disappointed, and the anxiety from it brings another round of adrenaline. To try and settle it, you lean your head on his shoulder and untangle your arms from yourself so you can take his hand into your hold.

Now that you’re acting like yourself some more, the group falls into their usual shenanigans. Conversation kicks up between Kiara and Sarah, with Pope chiming in from time to time. JJ begins to crack jokes, John B adding on to keep the humour flowing, and your fake laugh becomes so second-nature, it starts to almost feel real. Maybe this will be fine. A party would probably lighten your mood. The night was still young and things could easily turn around. You pull back to look at JJ. Take in his carefree smile, as he watches Kiara halfway re-enact some surf trick that she’d tried out the other day. Smile a little at his laugh when she mimics falling into the water. JJ seems to feel your gaze because looks down at you, brows furrowing in question. You don’t speak and instead press a kiss to his lips.

“Hey! No PDA in the twinkie,” John B heckles.

JJ flips him off in reply, not pulling away. When he does, he tells John B that he’s jealous. John B denies this, to which JJ says, ‘denial is a river in Africa’, with Pope soon correcting it to Egypt, earning the bird from your boyfriend. The ridiculousness of it has the girls laughing, including you.

There’s a few more twists and turns on the roads before John B’s pulling up into a spot on a street. Cars line the left and right side. There are people walking past, towards a house. It’s not quite Kook level but certainly nicer than something on the cut. Average, really. The gang excitedly chatters, getting up and fixing themselves. Sarah checks her hair in the rear-view and Kiara pulls on her beanie. Pope’s anxiously fixing the collar of his shirt. John B opens the back door for you all, and you and JJ jump out last, hands still intertwined. You all begin towards the house: the foursome slightly ahead, deep in effervescent chatter.

“You lemme know if you wanna leave early or anything,” JJ says to you.

You look away from the Pogues to meet his gaze. You nod, smiling. “Okay.”

“I’m serious. I’ve been to like a million of these things. We’re not gonna miss out on anything.”

The irritation threatens to come back. You push it away and try not to sound bitchy when you say, “I know, JJ. I’m no stranger to house parties either, remember? I had a life before I met you.”

JJ takes it as a joke, thankfully, and laughs, nodding. “Fair enough.”

Your arms sway lightly as the two of you walk up to the house. JJ fixes his cap as he jogs up the stairs, you in tow. Your thighs scream out. You’re tired and should be in bed, but you repeat your mantra (life is short and the night is long), and think about the drinks to be had and the weed to be smoked and the whole packet of cigarettes in your pocket that you’d pre-bought in celebration. Now, they’ll just be in consolation, you suppose.

The music can be heard from the front garden, so when you pass into the threshold of the house, it’s blaringly loud. You almost want to wince. The tinnitus from earlier still hadn’t worn off and the loud music only seemed to make it worse. For being fairly early in the night, there’s a good crowd of people about. Not so cramped that you can’t move, but enough that you must wriggle through a little. JJ calls out ‘hey’ to a couple of people he recognises. You watch as John B does a lazy handshake with someone from school as the lot of you head to the kitchen for a drink. Kiara and Sarah begin to grab some cans, passing them around. Finally, you remove your hand from JJ’s and crack one open. Kiara holds hers up in a proposed toast.

“To the rest of the night,” she announces.

“To the rest of our lives,” JJ grins, clinking his can to hers. The rest of you follow. Your smile feels genuine once more. It’s like you’re zipping back and forth from emotion to emotion. Alcohol will definitely help. Yep.

Necking half the can, you cringe at the bitter taste as it crawls down your throat.

After that, the group begins to split off. One beer turns to two, then three, then five. You do a couple of shots for good measure: vodka and sambuca. Beer pong with Kiara against two Kooks doesn’t seem like the worse idea, until you’re seven drinks under just from that. The walls begin to bend and stretch. There are some little gaps of how you get from one place to the next: skipping out the dull parts. You stumble through the doorway of the kitchen, the cup in your hand empty.

You’ve lost all the Pogues by now, including JJ. Part way through beer pong he got roped into a conversation and then you lost track of him. On the basis that you barely knew where you had been or where you were going, it seemed futile to search for him. The sting from losing didn’t hurt that bad anymore though. It felt like the memory of a bad dream; miles away and unable to hurt you. You couldn’t tell JJ how much it was bothering you. You didn’t think he’d get it. Didn’t think he’d understand. He had enough problems, anyway. Your dumb insecurities were nothing that needed to be added. They seemed almost pathetic when stood against his troubles and concerns.

There’s a couple chatting when you get to the counter where the drinks are. You sort of elbow them out the way, ignoring their murmurs, grateful when they get the hint. You sigh and try and focus on the labels. As you go to reach for what you’re pretty sure is the vodka, there’s somebody shoving to stand beside you. They’re crowding your personal space, stand tall enough to cast a small shadow over you. You roll your eyes and bite your tongue. After the fight, your patience had been worn thin.

“Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

The lid that you’re halfway through unscrewing gets abandoned. You look up at who had come to stand near you.

“Great. As if today can get any better,” you mumble, looking back down to the vodka. There’s a new urgency to fill your cup.

“That anyway to greet an old friend?” Kelce asks, sardonic.

“That’s a generous use of the word,” you tell him.

The cup is halfway full now. It’s hard to judge things when your vision won’t seem to stay straight.

Before you can reach for the orange juice, Kelce is topping up your cup. “Vodka orange. You really don’t change, do you?”

“Is there a reason you’re tryna piss me off right now?” you ask sharply, looking up to his side profile.

He raises his brows, as if shocked by your comment, and it makes your stomach contort. Leisurely, Kelce puts down the juice and turns to meet your gaze. It’s weird how similar he looks to when he was younger. Just taller, more grown, some ageing around the jaw from the beginnings of stubble. When he holds your cup out to you, you feel reluctant to take it - taking anything from him is like accepting help from a corrupted cop - but you do. The memories his presence brings up feel easier when washed down with alcohol.

“You forget your manners?” he wonders. He picks up his own drink and takes a sip. JJ likes to tease you for the same thing, but when Kelce does, it doesn’t make you roll your eyes with mirth. It makes you annoyed.

“Thank you so much for your help, Kelce.”

When you say it, there’s a sickly-sweet smile on your face. It’s as fake as a politician’s candidacy. You move to leave, but Kelce starts speaking again before you can slip away.

“Heard you lost your fight,” he says. You freeze and look back to him. The sympathy he feigns makes your blood begin to boil. “I remember you were a sore loser. How you holding up?”

“Like you care.”

He shrugs and takes another drink. The plastic of your cup is beginning to warp in your grip.

“Lover boy doing much to ease the pain? Where’s he at, anyway?”

He seems to know he’s touched a nerve. There’s a smirk beginning to show.

“None of your business,” you tell him, bordering on a sneer.

“So you can’t find him either, huh? Probably for the best. Last I saw, he was chatting with some pretty brown-haired chick in the sitting room. Think she goes to Kildare High.”

You know Kelce’s ways. How he likes to get a rise out of anyone, especially you. The grovelling that he does to anyone above him - like a pathetic follower like a rescued puppy, afraid of being abandoned again – and the sneering he shows to the people below. You know how half the things that leave his mouth are disingenuous. But for some reason, you feel yourself lean into his words. Entertain him for a little too long.

“I told you to mind your business.”

Kelce ignores you. Goes on. “Yeah, yeah. They seemed pretty cosy, too.”

You feel your intestines warp at the thought. You know it’s bullshit. Makes the anger worse.

Clicking his tongue, he looks down at you. “Guess being the slut of Kildare isn’t everything, huh? Can’t keep even the scummiest of boys happy.”

It’s funny how easy you hear it. Over the pandemonium of overlapping conversations, the clambering of voices fighting to be heard, the bass of whatever house song is currently being blasted, you can easily make out Kelce’s flippant insult. What’s funnier is how quickly it takes effect. It hits you the same way Beth’s upper cut had. The adrenaline that had been lingering in your body for hours turns to gasoline in a split-second, and Kelce’s barely-there smirk is the spark. You don’t register tossing your cup to the side, or the closing of your fingers into a fist. The power behind the punch you throw is second nature. Maybe you yell before you throw it; you’re not entirely sure. The alcohol is making everything blur together into one confusing, continuous nightmare. Everything from the night is scrambling into this magnanimous, Machiavellian, murderous mess. The fight. The loss. The Pogues. JJ. Kelce. This.

If people stop their conversations and pause to watch, gasping and shouting in panic or jeer, you don’t know. Your focus is on landing as many hits to Kelce’s face as you can. You’ve somehow managed to catch him off guard. He goes to bring his hands to defend himself, reflexively lashing at your face, and when the slap hits your cheek, it only adds more kindling to your fury. You lay another and another. You shrug off someone’s hands on your back, wanting to swing at them too. It’s then that you realise you’re screaming, hurling abuse at him. Any word you can think of. Any word that you know. Any word that’s ever been said to you. It starts to contort in your drunken haze, and it feels as if you’re attacking yourself. Berating her and heckling her.

“JJ!”

It’s Sarah screaming. Calling for help.

“Stop it!”

Kiara’s the one that’s been clawing at you. Trying to pull you off.

“JJ!”

When two arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you away from Kelce, you know it’s JJ before you hear his voice, angry and loud in your ear. “What the hell are you doing? Stop it!”

You’re still throwing punches, even though there’s no way they’d land on Kelce. Through the blur of it all – of your anger and the alcohol – you can make out Kelce’s face. It’s bloody and banged up, nearly bruising already, but it does nothing to appease you. It’s not enough. He needs to hurt like you hurt. You’re seething. Panting through your teeth that are barred like a lioness about to strike. Jaw tense and fists still clenched. Eventually, you register that you’re being half-carried-half-dragged outside. You violently shrug out of JJ’s hold and the move of it all makes you stumble forward. The dizziness hits in full force. A hand comes to your arm as you lurch forward in an attempt to catch your balance, but you shake it off.

“Would you stop it?” JJ snaps, trying to grab you again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Get off of me!” you shout. It makes the dizziness worse and you close your eyes.

JJ’s saying your name, trying to calm you down, trying to grab at you over and over. He’s angry, voice loud. You keep fighting out of his hold and usher him away. Stumbling further down the front garden, you can barely make out where you’re going. Someone’s looking at you, whispering to their friend, and you start shouting at them too. Cussing them out. JJ tries to barter with you once more when you do, this time coming to stand in front of you. You push him away, feet scrambling backwards in the process. It takes a while for you to get your balance.

Everything’s a mess.

You bring a hand up to rub at your forehead as if trying to erase the fog. The world won’t stay still and your vision won’t level out and now that the adrenaline is wearing off, everything hurts more. The pain in your knuckles and the ache in your muscles and the sting of Kelce’s slap to your cheek. When you lick at your lip, you realise the force from it had opened the cut again, tasting the copper of blood on your tongue. But all of it is so minute, so insignificant, to the clenching in your chest. You can’t breathe.

“Baby, just stop,” JJ’s saying. He’s not angry anymore – at least, he doesn’t sound it. He’s almost pleading, desperate to have you listen, his touch more tender as he grabs at your biceps. “Stop walking, okay? You need to focus on getting your breathing right.”

You shake your head and try and pull away again. But there’s nothing left in the tank. Everything hurts. Why does it all hurt?

The tears start to come. No. No.

You shake your head again, uselessly willing them away. JJ doesn’t seem to understand though; thinks you’re shaking your head at him. There’re murmurs from other people and the music is still loud and your ears are still ringing and all of it hurts. It just hurts.

The ground meets you quickly.

It’s the feeling of a hand on your back, stroking under the fabric of your shirt, that draws you back to reality. You’re lying on your side, it seems. Everything about it disorientates you and you whimper, trying to open your eyes.

JJ’s shushing you. It’s his hand, moving up and down. Your head’s on his lap. Can feel the move of one of his legs as he shifts in the seat.

“We’re nearly at the house,” he tells you softly.

You don’t really know what that means but you feel like it’s a good thing. A weak nod is your answer and you close your eyes again. It feels nicer to have them shut. There’s a conversation happening above you, hushed and impossible to follow. You focus on the stroke of JJ’s hand and let it ground you. The more you come around, the more you notice. A foul, lingering taste in your mouth, as if you’ve thrown up, and a sticky dryness on your cheeks from tears. When you stretch out your fingers, you wince. The cuts that had formed on your knuckles crack open and air stings at the open wounds. There’s a dull ache in your head. Jesus Christ - what a mess.

The car stops. You have enough sense in you now to figure out that you’re in the twinkie. The voice that had been talking to JJ goes quiet. A door opens then shuts. The cold air hits your arms when another opens, nearer to you. JJ’s shaking your shoulders gently.

“Come on, baby. Gotta sit up for me.”

You try to nod. Slowly easing yourself up, relying on JJ for help, you weakly slink out of the car. It’s John B, of course, waiting outside the door. He takes your forearm gently and lets you lean on him as you both wait for JJ to climb out. JJ and John B chat some more, quick and quiet, and then JJ’s coaxing you towards the house. Your legs feel like jelly. The van’s engine starts up but you don’t turn to look, instead focusing on making your way up the stairs of the porch.

“How you feeling?” JJ wonders.

“Like God’s having a migraine in my head,” you mumble.

He chuckles, solemn. “Yikes.”

Through the dark living space and the corridor you go, finally walking into the spare bedroom which yourself and JJ have unofficially claimed. The squish of the mattress and scratchiness of the quilt is like the embrace of an old friend. You sigh as you crawl to the pillows, curling into yourself. JJ rubs at your shoulder.

“I’m gonna grab you some water, alright? And a trash can in case you need to hurl again.”

Slipping in out and rest, you pull your knees closer to your chest. The dip of the bed when JJ sits down pulls you awake again, but there’s no energy left in you to open your eyes. There’s the shuffling of sheets and clothes, and then a blanket’s draped over you. Underneath, JJ wraps an arm over your waist, spooning against your back. You feel him press a kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

You don’t reply. A part of you wants to cry at how sweet he’s being when you don’t deserve any of it, but there’s nothing left in you to produce a tear, led alone shed it.

Before you drift off, you hear JJ’s whispering voice.

“I love you.”

The hangover is brutal, like a train hitting a brick wall. It’s the thing that wakes you up. Groaning, you hesitate to open your eyes and face the music.

There’s barely a moment of peace before the memories of the night before come shooting back. Each one makes you want to wince as if taking an oncoming bullet. You shift in bed and roll onto your back. Sighing at the ceiling, you open your eyes. Step one, done.

Looking to your side, you see JJ. He’s still asleep, facing you, lips parted in silent snores. It makes you smile. The expression soon turns sombre, as you remember the chaos of the party. The sound of his voice, shouting at you, and then the worry shining through stronger whilst he kept trying to hold you. After everything else that had happened, the lost fight seemed like the set-up of a skit. Blacking out and riding home in the twinkie would be the punchline, you suppose.

You ease the blanket off you and try your best to sneak out of the bed without waking him. You can stand on two feet pretty good. Trudging to the bathroom, you relieve yourself before shrugging out of your clothes. The shower takes a few minutes to heat up and you kill the time by inspecting your injuries in the mirror. Black eye, split lip…Vague outline of a handprint on your cheek. Joy. You didn’t exactly blame Kelce for it; if somebody was throwing punches at your face, you think you’d react in a similar way. You also didn’t feel any pity for doing what you did. Was it completely unhinged? Yes. Was it rightfully deserved? Abso-fucking-lutely.

You brush your teeth to try and rid the awful hangover taste from your mouth and then climb into the shower. Wash your hair again and your body, as if trying to rinse away any remnants of yesterday. Dry off and walk back to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, clothes tucked under your arm in a bundle. You inspect the bedroom floor for clothes and steal one of JJ’s shirts. A pair of boxers is retrieved from the closet draw. You dress in the morning sunlight that sneaks through the few inches that the blind hadn’t closed. As you pull on the boxers, you stumble backwards into the dresser, causing it to bang against the wall. It startles JJ awake.

“Sorry,” you say meekly.

He blinks, taking you in, delirious from the lingering sleep.

“Is your hair wet?” His voice is croaky and low (and truthfully, kind of sexy) from want of use.

“Yeah,” you reply, bringing a hand up to tease through it. “I got a shower.”

“Oh.”

He sighs and sinks back down into the bed, now lying on his front. The blanket is down at his waist, bare back on display. Now dressed, you walk back to the bed and climb over him, sitting atop of the sheet, back against the headboard.

“Thanks for looking after me last night,” you eventually say, quiet.

JJ shrugs tiredly.

“I’ll always look after you,” he casually mumbles into the pillow. He doesn’t know how much weight is held in his words.

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, resting your chin atop. Closing your eyes feels the only way to keep from crying.

“How’re you feeling?” JJ wonders. You open your eyes to look down at him.

“Like shit,” you admit.

“Hangovers can be hell,” he says.

And, yes, the hangover sucks, but that’s not what you mean. Telling him so is harder, though. The power behind your voice is feeble and it gives you away.

“Not because of that.”

It seems enough to wake JJ up. He lets out a quiet grunt as he pushes himself up. Your eyes are shut again, not sure if you can handle watching him as he looks at you. There’re the sounds of sheets moving as JJ sits. You wonder if he’ll move to hold you. He must choose not to and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or not.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“It’s so dumb,” you sniffle through a self-deprecating laugh. Your skin smells like soap. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, you nearly K.O’d Kelce and then did a pretty good passing-out-throwing-up move after so…I feel like it does matter,” JJ lightly presses. It helps; makes you smile sadly against your skin. He sighs. “I just wanna know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. JJ goes to protest but you lift your head, turning it to meet his gaze. The worry in his eyes makes your tears worse. “It’s so fucking stupid compared to all the shit you’ve got going on.”

JJ frowns.

“It’s not a competition,” he says simply. “Just cause someone’s got a broken leg doesn’t mean your paper cut doesn’t hurt.”

The metaphor makes you laugh. It’s tearful and weak and pathetic, and all the things you’re not, and you hate it. You hate that you have to admit to yourself and to JJ that maybe you’re not all that you scrub yourself up to be.

“You gonna let me in on the dialogue you got going on in your head?”

“All that it’s saying is that that was a really cheesy analogy,” you weakly joke.

JJ rolls his eyes and smiles. “I’ll take on the feedback.”

The sound of a bird outside has your attention switching. You turn your head away from JJ to look to the window. Through the sheer blinds you can just make out the banks outside of the chateau. Daylight shines happy, outlining the horizon and water reeds and tree trunks and canopies. Seeing it makes things feel simple. It grounds you enough to speak.

“I didn’t think I was gonna lose the fight,” you confess quietly.

JJ doesn’t speak. You wonder if maybe he didn’t hear you.

“It wasn’t like it was an important fight, baby,” he tells you. You keep staring out to the scenery through the blinds, trying to make out more details. “It came close, as well.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like to lose.”

“You can’t win all of them,” JJ replies.

You chuckle, sadly. If only it was that simple. Shaking your head, you try your best to verbalise it.

“I have to win. It’s…It’s like it’s the only time I feel truly good about myself.”

You don’t give JJ time to reply. Turning away from the window and back to your boyfriend, you sit up straighter and wipe your cheeks.

“I always feel like I’m the worst, so I try to act like I’m the best. Try to be funny and cool and aloof. Unbothered. Truth is…I care what people think about me, all the time. Too much for it to be normal.”

JJ’s lips are in a line, bordering on a frown. He’s watching you like he’s trying to understand; or maybe he does, and he just wants to let you continue. Either way, you keep talking.

“This…thing happened to me in school, when I was thirteen, and I feel like it was this formative experience that shaped the rest of my life. Made me the way I am.”

The memories flicker to life in your mind like watching home movies and it brings more tears. You shakily inhale, glancing up at the ceiling as you gather some courage. You’d never told anybody this before. Never spoken about it since it happened. It’s hard to know where to start, exactly.

“Me and Kelce used to date,” you reveal.

In your peripheral, you see JJ’s lips part at the news. It makes you chuckle, rolling your eyes at your past self.

“I know, I know. I’m not proud of it. It was this dumb thing when we were thirteen. He had a crush on me after seeing me at this church thing, and some notes were passed and whatever, and somehow, we ended up dating. If you can even call it dating. Truth was, I was kinda excited. He was this cute guy who had more money than I could even comprehend, and he wanted me. Weird little pre-teen me. It felt kinda nice, being the only girl with a boyfriend, and a Kook one at that. God, every girl was jealous of me at school.”

You laugh at the memory. School was so fickle back then, as were your emotions. You could recall planning your wedding and your friends falling out as to who was going to be the maid of honour. It all feels so foreign now.

As you go on, you fix your gaze on the wall ahead.

“The longer we went out, the more he wanted to fool around. I knew I wasn’t ready for that. I barely had a grasp on kissing; I wasn’t in any place to have sex. But he really, really wanted to. And I really, really liked him. Thought I loved him, in my stupid little thirteen-year-old brain. I didn’t want him to stop liking me.”

When a quiet comes, as the painful memories begin to push past the puppy-dog ones, JJ hesitantly fills the quiet.

“Did you? Have sex with him?”

Pursing your lips, you shake your head. “No. But…He asked for some pictures, one night, and I couldn’t see the harm in it. I sent them on Snapchat, cause I thought they’d delete. He never screenshotted them either, so I figured that it was all done. He seemed really happy about it. I didn’t deep it that much and we just kept on dating for a bit.”

The room begins to feel a little claustrophobic and you pull yourself away from your knees. Stretching your legs out, you lean against the headboard again and look up at the ceiling. JJ’s eyes are on you, watching and waiting patiently. You search your head for the words.

“You ever gone somewhere and know that people are talking about you? I don’t mean in a self-obsessed way. I mean in the worst way. Like you’re a spectacle for them to look at. Well, I went to school one day, and I just knew that everyone was looking at me and talking about me. It wasn’t until later on that I knew why. I remember it so clearly, even though it was like five years ago now. I went outside for lunch and was sat with my friends, and this girl on the table across starts showing her phone to her friends. They all start laughing.

And then they all start looking at me.”

When you look to JJ, his eyes are closed, as if in pain.

He knows.

“There’s this app you can download, where pictures that you get sent on Snapchat automatically save onto your phone, without ever telling the other person. Kelce didn’t delete them. He saved them and he showed them to his friends. The wrong person got them and made this anonymous twitter account. Leaked them online. And suddenly everyone at Kildare High and Kook Academy had seen my nudes.”

You’re crying now, trying to suppress your sobs and failing.

“And thirteen-year-olds are stupid. They can’t comprehend in their little underdeveloped, fucked up heads, that they’re looking at a person on their phone. That they were laughing and talking and looking at me. That it was the most humiliating, horrific feeling in the world, to know that everybody knows what you look like naked without you wanting them to. And for your boyfriend to be the reason why.”

JJ’s shaking his head. His jaw begins to tense, a clear shot sign that he’s angry. You look down at your legs and begin to mess with the ring he gave you – twisting it around your thumb.

“You wanna know what he said, when I confronted him about it? When I asked why he showed people them? Showed them to his friends?”

JJ doesn’t answer. You scoff as you recall it. The look on Kelce’s face – innocent like butter couldn’t melt in his mouth – when he shrugged off your hurt.

Another tear falls as you shake your head, lifting it just high enough to say, “he told me he wanted to ‘show me off.’ Like it was this romantic thing he’d done.”

From the corner of your eye, JJ’s shaking his head, running his fingers through his hair. You shakily take in a breath, wiping at your cheeks.

“Thanks to him and his kindness, I became the slut of Kildare. That’s what he said to me last night; the thing that set me off? He told me you were trying to get with another girl at the party, and then called me the slut of Kildare. It all just came screaming back and, after the fight and everything…I don’t know. I guess I just lost it.”

“Kinda wish I didn’t pull you off him, now,” JJ mumbles, hardly joking.

You laugh through your tears. The effort of it makes you cry more.

“I remember that happening. I remember hearing about the pictures and stuff at school.”

You turn to meet his gaze. There’s something blank in his look and you can’t quite tell what he’s thinking, but you feel like you might have an idea. You smile sympathetically, as if in understanding.

“It’s okay if you saw them, JayJ. I’m not expecting thirteen-year-olds to have the strongest moral backbones.”

But before you can finish your sentence, JJ’s shaking his head. “I never looked at them. Never felt right to.”

You pause, taken aback. “Really?”

He nods, pushing his fingers through his hair. It might be the most serious you’ve ever heard him, when JJ says, “I swear on my life, I never saw them.”

Swallowing, you close your eyes and nod. He never saw them.

“It’s so dumb, cause like a month later, everybody had forgotten it was a thing for the most part. Me and Kelce broke up – obviously – and never really spoke again. Except when we run into each other at parties. He likes to bring it up from time to time. Like he wasn’t the reason why I got the nickname.

I decided that being a slut wasn’t really a thing, and after my first proper boyfriend, decided that I actually like having sex. That it feels good. And I've sent nudes again, after, cause I wanted to.

I act like it doesn’t bother me, and usually it doesn’t, but sometimes…Sometimes I just find myself wondering after I get with someone, if they’d seen the pictures. If they were just curious to see the ‘where are they now’ version or whatever.”

At your solemn laugh, JJ chuckles. He shakes his head at the reference.

You sigh and shrug, wiping at your face once more. The tears have begun to slow. It feels like a weight’s been lifted off your chest. Like you’re breathing properly, with both lungs, for the first time in five years. The truth behind your competitive nature and your need for control. The insecurity behind your relationships that you never voiced and never confronted, brushing it under the rug, always knowing it to be there.

The prod of JJ’s toe on your foot brings your attention back.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I really like the ‘where are they now’ version,” he says.

You laugh. It feels like he's picked a pebble from out of your heart, making it lighter. “You do?”

“Mhm.”

“And it doesn’t bother you that you’re dating ‘the slut of Kildare’?” As you say the stupid nickname, you put on a voice as if presenting royalty.

JJ’s hand finds yours and loops your fingers together. “Honestly, I’m honoured that she’s settled for me.”

“Settled?”

He shrugs, smiling at you. “Everybody knows I’m punching.”

You shake your head in disagreement, jokingly adding, “let’s not talk about punching for a while, m’kay?”

JJ laughs at that. He tugs you nearer as his humour dies down, though his smile stays, and you lie against his chest. A kiss is planted to the top of your forehead.

“Thanks for telling me all that.”

You look up to him and take in his face. The slant of his brows and the cupid’s bow of his lips, smiling at you like you’ve given him the secret to the universe in your childhood-trauma-tale. Nothing’s changed in the way he looks at you; he still just sees you. You’re not sure you’ve ever had somebody understand you in the way he does, and get you like him. You worry that you may never find someone like JJ again. It’s a stupid worry, because you haven’t lost him.

Leaning up to kiss him, feeling fully at ease once you do, you can’t help but wonder how the hell you got so lucky.

“I love you,” you tell him. You feel it’s the only way to verbalise all you want to tell him. The two of you had never been very good with words.

A flush comes to his cheeks and the smile he gives you is one that you know is reserved for your eyes. Could solve any problem and heal any injury.

JJ kisses you once more, hard and certain.

“I love you too.”

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #obx #obx fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #jj angst #jj maybank angst #jj x reader angst #jj maybank x reader angst #pogues #pogue preference #pogues fic

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overtrred28 · 6 months

Text

Stargirl | matildas x original character fic [part three]

Words; 2.1k

Pairings; matildas team x astrid taylor (OC)

Warnings; none (i don't think)

A/N; part three everyone. longest one so far, if they're too long please lmk and i can make them shorter if needed. hope you enjoy this one, favourite part so far.

masterlist

The day had finally arrived and Astrid didn’t even know that today could be the day she was waiting for. It was game day, 8th of April 2022, a friendly between Australia and New Zealand at the Queensland Country Bank Stadium in Townsville.

The starting 11 walked out onto that pitch and the rest took their seats on the bench, anxious to see how the game would pan out today. It was in the 32nd minute that New Zealand scored their goal, officially taking the lead. After the halftime break and some substitutions the game began again, the Matildas managing to keep strong possession on the ball down their side.

It was nearing the end of full time and New Zealand were still in the lead 1-0 and the girls were struggling to just get that ball in the net, the opposing defence strong as ever. Astrid was sitting on the bench, nervously watching the game ahead of her when Tony approached her.

“Taylor.” Tony called out to her, Astrid instantly looking up at her coach. “Start warming up again, you’re subbing for Fowler.” Tony smiled watching the young player’s face light up and give him a firm nod. Charli gave her a shoulder shake and let out a small squeal as Astrid got up, moving over to the sidelines to warm up again. It was finally happening, she was finally making her debut for Australia.

“Ready kid?” Tony caught Astrid’s attention as she ran back over to where the assistant ref was signalling for a substitution. And before she knew it, Mary was running over, engaging Astrid in a small hug before she ran on the pitch. The crowd cheered as the youngster came on with 13 minutes till full time, taking her position on the right side of the field.

Only 3 minutes later Steph Catley is set to take a free kick. The players are all lined up, ready for the ball to fly towards them. Steph nods to the ref and uses her trusty left foot to shoot it towards the wall of players, angles the ball slightly further from Astrid who’s already running, Kerr goes for a header goal but it falls short.

Astrid feels as if she's suddenly going in slow motion. She sees the ball leave Sam's head and she runs faster, lifting up her right leg to catch it and knock it towards the goal. And as if the universe was on her side, the goalie had run slightly away from Astrid's position of the goal, giving her the perfect opportunity to sink it into the top left corner of the net.

As they see it ripple the crowd roars with cheers, every player on the bench rising to their feet in celebration, Tony making a run for the edge of the technical area in celebration. Astrid stood still with her mouth agape, shocked as to what had just happened. It wasn’t till Foord came running to her, gripping her body in celebration that she could breathe again, turning to face Caitlin as a wide smile grew on both of their faces. The rest of the team on the field came charging down on the pitch to jump all over the young player, screaming and yelling their excitement.

GOOOAAALLL! And it’s a magnificent one to equalise the Matildas with New Zealand by none other than number 3, Astrid Taylor in the 80th minute! This is her first ever Matilda's goal and what a shot it was by the 17 year old, with only being on the pitch for less than 5 minutes AND in her international debut! It’s unbelievable.

At that moment Astrid almost started crying. 17 years old, finally playing her first game for her country and a game changing goal 10 minutes from full time in front of a massive crowd. Her teammates were beyond proud of her, not only for her first goal but for bringing them to an equaliser after a long and tough game.

Full time ended and still at a tie, the team patiently waited to see how many extra minutes were given to hopefully score once more and take the win. An additional 5 minutes is shown after Cortnee subs Hayley, Astrid giving her a high five and focus is pulled back to the game. Astrid bounces on her feet, body now pumping with adrenaline to take this home.

And with the magic right boot of Emily Van Egmond the Matildas gained a goal in the 93rd minute, bringing them in front of New Zealand. The stadium erupts once more after the ball ripples the net, Emily running straight for Polkinghorne as the rest of the team follows suit, celebrating with her before returning to their places, focusing on the last 30 seconds of time.

Australia wins a corner and Steph runs to take it, officially over stoppage time when she shoots it over to the goal, it bounces backwards off Alanna’s head and by miracle Sam Kerr knocks it over the players and past the white line.

Sam runs straight to Steph with her arms outstretched, catching her up high as they meet, everyone else following behind with outcries of excitement, jumping on top of each other in celebration. The time is still running and the players are instructed to return to their positions. The ball is played and all though it gets shot down to Lydia in the Aus goal, no one runs to defend, the final whistle blowing before there's even a chance it could go in.

They’ve done it, they've won. 3-1 over New Zealand and Astrid could not be more ecstatic to have been a help in that. The Townsville crowd erupt in cheers in favour of the Matildas and they all release massive smiles before they go off and shake hands with their own players and those on the New Zealand team. The players on the sideline slowly make their way onto the field, Charli running directly to Astrid, engulfing her close friend in a tight embrace, spinning her around on the field.

“YOUR DEBUT AND A GOAL?! I’M SO PROUD.” Charli yelled over the loud stadium music. Giving a final squeeze they let go and Charli rests an arm over Astrid's shoulder, pulling her into her side, incredibly proud of her friend as they walk the pitch to meet their teammates. So far this was the best day of Astrid’s life and one she would remember for the rest of her life. Tony reached the pair on the pitch and held Astrid’s hands.

“Congratulations, I’m very proud, Astrid.” Tony nodded his head at the young player as she looked at him.

“Thank you Tony.” Was all Astrid could get out without her voice cracking, trying to not cry tears of happiness. Kyra and Cortnee ran to hug her first, squeezing her tight with pride. As they began to do their lap of the pitch, the rest of the team embraced Astrid, congratulating her, saying how proud they were, and grateful she brought them to that equaliser.

Eventually a presenter called out to Astrid and she ran over to them, fixing her hair as best as she could and removing some sweat from her face.

“Astrid, do you mind doing a small post-match interview?” The lady from Channel 10 asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” Astrid nodded and straightened out her shirt.

“Great.” The presenter waited for the go ahead before talking again. “We’ve got Astrid Taylor here, only 17 years old and scoring her first Matildas goal in her first appearance, and an impressive one at that. Astrid, congratulations and how do you feel?” She pointed the mic to Astrid.

“Oh thank you. Ah yeah. I don’t even really believe it myself. I mean I wasn’t really expecting to be going on at any stage and making my debut tonight, but Tony told me to get ready and then it happened.” Astrid laughed as she talked.

“I mean it was quite impressive. Only being on for 3 minutes before you were able to sneak it in. What was happening in that moment for you?” The reporter asked and Astrid swallowed.

“Yeah it was crazy. It was Steph’s kick and I saw it go to Sam and I just began running in that direction, and as it bounced off her head, I caught it and just shot it in the direction of the goal and hoped for the best. I guess it was my luck that Esson was more focused on Sam than me!” Astrid made everyone around her laugh, heart still beating fast with adrenaline and nerves from being on camera. “I’m also just really happy we got the win, Emily and Sam helping us turn the game around so late.”

“Absolutely incredible. And so is your score sheet with your club Sydney FC. I mean you only joined back in November and you have scored at least 16 goals with them.”

“Oh thank you. Yeah that club is incredible and I’m so glad I’ve got Viney there with me to get those with.” Astrid smiled brightly.

“Well again congratulations and thank you. Enjoy the celebrations!” She reached out to shake Astrids hand as she muttered a small ‘thank you’ before walking back to the last lingering teammates that gathered near the tunnel, watching her proudly.

The bus ride back to the hotel was as expected, loud and full of excitement, obviously preparing to scream their winning chant.

“BUILDING UP SUSPENSE, BUILDING UP SUSPENSE, BUILDING UP SUSPENSE, BUILDING UP SUSPENSE, BUILDING UP SUSPENSE. WOOOOOOO.” The team began to chat, banging on seats and windows as Lydia stood up to lead them.

“IT’S A GRAND OLD TEAM TO PLAY FOR, AND IT’S A GRAND OLD TEAM TO SEE, AND IF YOU KNOW THE HISTORY, IT’S GONNA MAKE YOUR HEART GO WOAH. WE DON’T CARE WHAT THE OTHER TEAMS SAY, WHAT THE HELL DO WE CARE.” The noise from the bus was getting louder and louder as all players and staff members joined in. “FOR WE ONLY KNOW THERE’S GOING TO BE A SHOW AND THE AUSSIES WILL BE THERE.”

“WAS IT ONE?” Lydia yelled, awaiting the response.

“NO.”

WAS IT TWO?”

“NO”

“WAS IT THREE?”

“YES.” Claps and cheers ran through the bus.

“HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, HERE WE GO, WOOOOOO.” Everyone cheered in celebration, clapping loudly, Kyra rubbing Astrid’s hair from her seat next to the other girl. A large smile erupted on the young girls’ face, still in disbelief of what just happened.

After dinner the room quieted down, everyone paying attention to their captain at the front of the room.

“Um, obviously a very special game today, glad we got the win today and an incredible performance. Astrid,” Sam directed her eyes to the young girl sat next to Charli and Kyra. “You have worked so hard these past few months and I think I speak on the behalf of all of us when I say we’re so proud. You’ve really proven yourself and today a miracle really happened. Not only your first cap but your first goal in 3 minutes of being on the pitch! I mean I think that might be the most impressive debut in Matildas history.” The room erupted in cheers and claps, Astrid shook her head and covered her face with her hands.

“Yeah Stargirl!” A shout comes loudly from Charli and the room falls to laughter.

“So congrats and we’re so happy to have you as part of this team and family.” Sam finished, Charli and Kyra pushing Astrid to get up and walk to the front of the dining room. The girls clapped and cheered for her, a smile on her face as she approached Sam.

“Thank you.” Astrid mumbled as they hugged, Sam patting her back with a final squeeze, letting go to hand her the official Matildas cap. Astrid looked at it for a second before turning around to face the team, her team. “Um, thank you everyone for making this day so special. A little bit lost for words right now,” She let out a small laugh. “Obviously I can’t take all the credit for the goal, Steph and Sam were the ones who even made it possible, I was just there to help you out. Getting to make my debut today with this group of girls just makes it so special and I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the inspiration of every one of you. Thank you for all the support and I love you all. Thanks.” The room clapped again, Astrid moving over to the side for a photo with her cap.

Sam then made her speech for Caitlin who played her 100th cap, reminiscing on their journey together before presenting her with her shirt, while also giving a cheer to Katrina who had returned to her first game tonight after having Harper. The night ended with team celebrations before heading to bed to recover from a big game.

to be continued...

A/N; also i know this may seem a bit unrealistic but we're in a fake world with a fake character who's just really good at football so idc. xx

#auswnt #kyra cooney cross #matildas #matildas x reader #auswnt x reader #australia #charli grant #steph catley #caitlin foord #mackenzie arnold #sam kerr #alanna kennedy #cortnee vine

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sednonamoris · 1 year

Text

let me love the lonely out of you

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: Faced with your first off-duty Christmas in years, you’re excited to go home and see family. When it seems like Price doesn’t feel the same, you make sure he gets his fill of holiday cheer by coming home with you.

Warnings: Language, pure unfettered fluff with little to no plot lol

Word count: 2,162

A/N: Technically follows the events of this fic, but you don’t have to have read it to get the point

—

It starts off, as so many things do, with an innocent question.

“And how do you celebrate Christmas, Captain?” from Gaz across the rec room where he’s tormenting everyone with similar interrogations over his game of ping pong. 2-1 right now. Soap is losing.

Tucked into a loveseat in the corner of the room with a book you’ve been trying to finish for the past month, their banter has mostly been background noise. Now your ears perk up, though you keep your eyes on the page.

Price lets out a puff of air from where he stands reffing the game, drags a hand through his beard. His silence is punctuated by the tic, tac of the lads’ current stalemate.

“Quietly,” he finally says, “and away from you lot.”

Gaz and Soap both start in with their heckling immediately, which Price reciprocates in his usual manner. But a quick peek over your paperback reveals a strained humor in his eyes, and you suddenly wonder if he has anyone back home to celebrate with. A frown twists your lips at the thought. Cold-blooded killer you may be, but no one should spend the holidays alone.

Especially since you and Price are… well. You’re something. Sneaking around base to have sex without alerting the other members of your squad hardly needs a label, but it’s more than that. To call him your boyfriend feels juvenile, and ‘partner’ is terrifyingly official.

So you call him ‘Captain’ in public and ‘John’ in private and wonder if Christmas in Ireland might suit him instead.

“What about Hound?” Soap turns the question on you. Gaz takes the opportunity to score again.

You shoot a flat stare over the top of your book. “What about me?”

“Come on,” he drags the syllables out, “how do you celebrate?”

“Not in fucking England, I can tell you that.”

Gaz gasps in faux-offence. Soap cackles and manages to win a point while his opponent is distracted.

It’s Price who looks over at you with a question in his eyes, one that you tilt your head towards the door in answer. Five minutes later he tells the lads that this has been fun, but he’s got paperwork to attend to. Surely they can manage the score on their own from here. 5-4. Soap is still losing. Ten minutes after that you mark your book, have a stretch, and leave the tic, tac, tic of the ping pong game and Soap’s impassioned defence of MacTavish holiday traditions behind.

Price waits for you in his office. He’s perched with arms folded on the edge of his desk. You lean in the doorway to admire his broad frame and the way he looks at you, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in the air. You’re not sure how to say this.

“What is it, love?” he asks.

You duck your head at how easily the endearment rolls off his tongue, cross the room and cup a hand to his cheek. His whiskers are scratchy beneath your palm. You spend a moment idly rubbing your thumb across his skin just to feel the texture when he reaches up with his own hand to cover yours, warm and calloused and terribly sweet. When you look into his eyes you think you could melt into that blue, let the cerulean sea whisk you on its currents with no lifeboat or anchor.

“Come home with me,” you say. It doesn’t come out a question so much as a request.

He blinks in surprise. “Neither of us has had leave over Christmas in years.”

“I know, and if you have plans with your family I would never keep you from them. But if you don’t,” you forge ahead, mustering up all of your courage, “you’re more than welcome to join mine.”

For the holidays. Forever. You’re not picky.

John Price looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. Like you’re a wonder. A smile he can’t seem to help tugs crooked at his teeth as he melts further into your touch.

“I’d love to.”

You’ve completed covert operations in sweltering desert conditions and full gear without sweating this much. Quite frankly it’s embarrassing, especially given the cool December temperatures that have everyone else buttoned up and rosy-cheeked.

It’s just that you’re nervous. In all your years on this earth you’ve never once brought someone home to meet your grandfather.

The house that normally feels so welcoming looms ahead as you linger at the end of the drive. There’s a bushy wreath on the door that you’re sure Mrs. Murphy from nextdoor brought over, and the lights young Davey on the corner hangs every year glow soft and warm in the early evening light. The ‘Welcome’ sign you gifted your grandfather three Christmases ago leans up against the post box that’s still crooked where you backed into it as a wild youth on a brand-new license.

Nostalgia sinks its claws into you, but still you can’t take that first step.

“Does your granddad know we’re coming?” Price asks. His distraction is perfectly timed, coupled with an arm around your shoulders. He takes the leap for you both, and you can feel some of the dread ease out of your body at his touch.

“No.” You never tell him when you’re coming - his favourite surprise, he calls your visits.

“Are you trying to give him heart failure?” his brows are raised, caught between surprise and amusement.

“Your man lived through a World War. Showing up at his doorstep unannounced on Christmas Eve is hardly the worst surprise he’s gotten.”

Price laughs, but there’s a stitch of concern between his brows when he looks over at you.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks softly when you reach the door.

“I’ve… never done this before,” you admit with an awkward smile.

He mirrors the expression with a tenderness in his gaze that makes your heart ache. “Me either. Shall we?”

You square your shoulders and give the old mahogany three smart raps that your grandfather would know anywhere. There’s a commotion behind the door as he shuffles to get it, and then it opens to your favourite gap-toothed smile in all the world.

“My darlin’, you made it!” he exclaims.

“Happy Christmas, Old Man!” you say with a bright smile. “I brought you a Brit to bully.”

Nerves forgotten, you all but launch into your grandfather’s waiting embrace. When you pull apart he’s quick to give Price the same treatment.

“This is Captain John Price,” you introduce as they clasp hands, “and this is my dear Old Man.”

“I’ve heard all about you, son,” your grandfather says with a twinkle in his eye. “This one says you’ve been enjoying my biscuits.”

You cough awkwardly and move everyone along inside, but don’t miss the shade of pink that dusts Price’s cheeks and the tips of his ears when he mutters a yes, sir, thank you, sir.

“Come in, come in, I’ve just put on a kettle.” Your grandfather eyes Price with the disdain and suspicion only a true old Irishman can muster. “We’ve no English Breakfast, so best get used to an Irish brew.”

You cackle bright and loud as he wastes no time taking the piss out of poor Price, who looks like he can’t decide if this is the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to him.

The kitchen is just as half-clean and kitschy as it’s always been. Mismatched dishware and loudly printed wash rags occupy every space that’s not taken over by unread mail or plates of holiday goodies the neighbors have dropped by. The kettle sings on the stove, caught just in time, and you make sure to snag the chipped candy cane mug that’s always been your favourite.

You turn to find Price staring.

Not at you, but everything. The walls are littered with pictures of you; as a child lined up for your first (and last) Irish Dance recital, as a teen with bad hair posed next to the clunker of a car you bought yourself, as a beaming young soldier with your squadmates after a successful mission. Your medals for exemplary service are inlaid on velvet and framed next to an old Polaroid of your grandfather holding you as just a wee thing, still in nappies.

There’s so much love in this house, hanging on the walls and poured in steaming mugs and squished into too-tight hugs.

There are other pictures, other children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, but it’s painfully obvious who reciprocates that love. Who still comes around and who keeps the table and heart of an old man full. When he turns to meet your gaze Price has a misty look in his eyes that punches the air from your lungs.

Did he ever feel this kind of love growing up? Is it too late for you to give it to him now?

Your grandfather shuffles back in with his arms full of something bright and hideous to break the moment. He holds them out to reveal the ugliest jumpers you’ve ever seen.

“Can’t get in the Christmas spirit without a proper set of civvies,” you grin and toss the larger of the two over to Price.

It’s fire truck red and has a knitted reindeer pattern complete with bells sewn onto sleighs. There’s a soft jingle as he clutches it to his chest. Yours isn’t any better; an alarming shade of green covered in dancing elves.

You’re both quick to change. Price steps out with his arms wide for inspection, one he passes with flying colours if the smile on your grandfather’s face is anything to go by. He’s being a terribly good sport. You can feel how sappy your own smile is as you watch them together.

He herds you and Price back into the kitchen where somehow a space has been cleared for baking gingerbread men. It’s a Christmas Eve tradition that has carried on from year to year, but neither you nor your grandfather are particularly suited to the task.

You make up for it with attitude.

Somewhere between, “That’s too many eggs,” and, “Are you sure we have enough molasses?” and, “Get your fingers out of that bowl! We haven’t even rolled the dough out yet,” you manage to get a viable batch on a baking tray. They are perhaps the most misshapen, lopsided effort yet, but when you see the smile on Price’s face when he bites into one fresh out of the oven you decide they’re the best all the same.

As you stand around the kitchen waiting for the last batch to finish, your grandfather chatters away about all the neighborhood gossip you’ve missed out on lately. You gasp in outrage at all the appropriate moments, and even Price chimes in with a smart remark or two that send you all into fits of laughter.

You thought it would be jarring, seeing him in your childhood home like this, but it fits. In a way you can’t explain, Price belongs here.

You only hope he feels it, too.

As the evening grows older everyone migrates from around the kitchen counter to the sitting room, where Nat King Cole sings Christmastime into the air through the old record player your grandfather has had for decades. The tree lights up the room, plastic branches gleaming with multi-coloured lights and an eclectic assortment of ornaments. On sunken couch cushions your old man regales Price with wild tales from your youth. You’d be embarrassed if they didn’t look so happy. Content, even. Price hasn’t been this relaxed in a long, long time now. You try to memorize how it looks on him.

It’s well into the night when your grandfather announces he’s off to bed. There’s a twinkle in his eye when he tells you to behave, both you and Price stuttering out awkward reassurances that only make him laugh.

“Thank you,” Price says into the quiet when just the two of you are left.

The lights from the tree shine in his eyes as he looks at you with something treacherously close to love. You hope it’s love.

“What for?”

“Everything. I haven’t had a Christmas like this…” he smiles in that self-deprecating way that breaks your heart. “Well, it’s been a long time.”

You reach out to squeeze his hand. “I couldn’t let you be alone. Not on Christmas.”

Not ever. Not if you can help it.

He squeezes your hand back, then slowly pulls you to your feet. His sleigh bells jingle softly as he walks backwards and leads you into a clumsy dance. ‘The Christmas Song’ croons in the background. The dance ends up an unpracticed sway, your arms wrapped around each other and your head tucked into his chest. You stay like that even after the song ends and the scratchy sound of empty vinyl takes over.

“Happy Christmas, John,” you kiss the words into the fabric of his jumper.

“Happy Christmas, love.”

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #fran writes #cod x reader #cod mwii x reader

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judgementdaysunshine · 6 months

Note

Can i get a angsty Hook fic but with a happy ending please

Oooh first aew request!

Standing up

Pairing: Hook x Fem reader

Description: Hook fights Ethan Page after he steps up to page for harming you

You became afraid when you see Ethan Page in front of you grabbing and pinning you with his hand to your throat against the wall trying to fight back especially when he lifts you up and you see the table. You knew that you would be hurt if you hit the table due to your previous back injury that could have been the end of your career from how bad and painful it was but no matter how hard you fought you were no match for the strength page had until you were suddenly on the ground looking to see Hook on top of him beating the life out of him as Danhausen comes around the corner pulling off page and managing to throw him in the table as hook gets to his feet immediately helping you up wiping blood from your nose off his face not noticing any other injury other than the mark on your neck that was likely the start of a forming bruise which made him more mad as the three of you get ready for your matches taking out all your pent up anger and emotions out in the ring against Anna Jay smiling as hook pulls you in a hug backstage. You roll your eyes when page talks shit in the ring then he starts talking about you making you boil with rage but before you could run out you suddenly see hook walking in the ring vibrating with anger "You want a match with me? You got one! And plus I'm doing this after that shit you pulled earlier almost throwing Y/N into a table!" he has the footage rolled and every fan boos page as hook gets good hits in before leaving the ring sharing a hug together after anxiously waiting as the next two weeks go by always becoming afraid when you saw or heard page but hook was not far behind ready to give a beat down and he sure did when page tried to interfere in your match against Hikaru Shida only to be shoved down by danhausen then beaten down by hook, accompanying him ringside to the match cheering him on and smiling when you get your great hits in while hausen distracted the ref before sliding out as hook gets the pin and win. A hug is shared between the two of you in the ring before heading backstage with smiles feeling stunned when he grabs your face and kisses you but you burst into joy by the action returning another kiss wrapping your arms around him in another hug as laughs are shared "Thank you Hook you didn't have to do that for me" he smiles holding your face in his hands gently "I wouldn't do that for anyone but you" you melt hiding your rosy face in his palms before he chuckles kissing you again before the two of you sat in his locker room for the rest of collision enjoying small sips of soda and bites of chips planning to spend the next day together for your day off.

#aew x reader #hook #hook x reader #aew

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whyareyouhere66 · 2 years

Text

Dean Portman x Fem Reader - Reunion

Dean Portman x Female Reader

Set in the second movie

*unedited so sorry if it's trash*- this one is also quite old so it’s also shitty, I hate it a little bit but it’s ok. It’s inspired by a tumblr post I saw a couple months back, but either the author deleted it or I just can’t find it in the seemingly limited Dean fics.

Summary: Y/n and Dean have been dating for 3 years. They both live in Chicago, but after Dean went to California for the Jr Goodwill Games they could only ever talk over the phone. She decides to surprise him.

2nd person POV

You watched as number 22, or Luis Mendoza, sped off towards the goal, leaving the rest of the players on the other end of the hockey rink. He came to a quick stop in front of the goal, flakes of ice covering the goalie. He stopped for a second, eyes filled with excitement. "I stopped!" He grinned, looking at the boy in goal who was now covered in ice.

"Put it in Luis!"

With this, the boy seemed to come back to realization, remembering he was still in fact playing a game. He quickly hit the puck into the goal, tying up the score. Everyone in the stands cheered, and you clapped your hands excitedly. "What'd I miss?" You turned to your right to see your older brother, Aaron, standing next to you holding a bowl of nachos. "22 scored, it's 5-5 now!" You said, and your brothers face lit up.

He started cheering, before shoving a handful of nachos in his mouth. You laughed, before the arena's lights dimmed. You looked forward and saw that the shoot out started. "Here we go..." you muttered, watching closely.

The tension in the air was thick, as everyone watched the game in front of them. They only ever made sounds when one of the players made a shot, and then was when they would cheer and clap aggressively. You cheered especially loud when number 44, Fulton Reed, made a shot.

You had heard and seen great things of him, mostly during your phone conversations with Dean. 'The Bash Brothers', they called themselves.

And finally, the last round of the shut out came around. It was Gunner Stahl from Iceland, up against Julie 'The Cat'. You had heard from Dean that she was quite the goalie, and boy you hoped he was right cause this goal, could either cost them the game, or win it for them.

You bit your lip in anticipation as Gunner began to skate towards the goal. 'C'mon..just this one shot...'

As he neared the goal, you saw Julie raising her glove slowly. He hit the puck towards the goal, skidding to a stop only a few feet ahead. Julie lowered her glove and stared at it, before glancing back to Gunner. '....what's happening?'

Finally, Julie stood up in threw the puck in the air, signaling her victory. You jumped up and cheered loudly, a large grin visible on not just yours but everyone's faces. The rest of the Ducks skated towards her, tackling her in a hug. "HELL YEAHHH!" Aaron yelled next to you, and you laughed while hitting his shoulder lightly.

The ducks all huddled together, skating around the rink while carrying the USA flag. You smiled to yourself when you saw Dean and Fulton butting their heads together. 'Dorks..'

"...Well what are ya waiting for?" Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow. You looked at him confused. "Huh?"

"What do you mean wHaT?! Get out there!" He said, pushing you towards the rink. "Wha- is that even allowed?" You said, stumbling a bit. He rolled his eyes before pushing you again.

"Go!"

"Alright alright I'm going!"

You stumbled down the bleachers, avoiding bumping into the fans who were celebrating. You carefully stepped onto the ice, surprised that none of the refs had stopped you. 'Is this actually allowed-?'

You walked across the ice, stopping a few feet ahead of the group of hockey players. They didn't seem to notice you, too caught up in their own celebrations. "Hey Portman!" You shouted, sticking your hands in your pockets. They all turned to face you, confused as to who was shouting. The way you announced yourself must've been a bit passive-aggressive, as some of them seemed to get a bit defensive of their teammate.

But in the crowd of confused looks you got, you saw Dean's face light up as soon as he turned to look at you. He looked surprised, to say the least, making the others even more confused then before.

You took your hands out of your pockets, and held them outwards besides you, gesturing for a hug. "You made it, baby" you smiled, stepping closer to them.

He laughed, skating quickly towards you. "Y/n!" He shouted, scooping you up and pulling you into a tight embrace. You laughed, leaning into him. You put your head in the crook of his neck, as he slowly came to a stop, skating in a circle so you both were now in front of everyone else.

They all stared, wide eyed, at the scene in front of them. Fulton put the pieces together soon enough, recognizing you as the "famous Y/n". Dean had lots of stories about his girl back home, but he never thought he'd meet you.

Dean pulled away from you, before smashing his lips against yours. You happily kissed him back, and the rest of the team finally started to come to realization. They too, had heard stories about Dean's girlfriend.

"Dammnnn, get it Portman!" Jesse cheered, earning a laugh from the others.

Dean placed you down on the ice, his hands never leaving your waist. You pulled away from the kiss and smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "I missed ya, you dork." You said. He laughed, and you could feel the vibrations through his chest. "I missed you more, Bash Babe."

You pulled away, chuckling at the name. "Bash babe? That's a new one." You said. He shrugged. "It fits, don't ya think?" He smirked, looking down at you. You laughed and shook your head, resting your head on his chest once again.

"It's perfect.."

#the mighty ducks #the mighty ducks x reader #dean Portman #Dean Portman x reader #fem reader #md2 #d2 #fluff

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livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 · 5 months

Text

My Oh My- Jey Uso

Jey Uso x Savannah Morgan

Warnings: Smut, 18+!!!!

Word Count: 754

A/N: This is the first fic in the M.O.M (My Oh My) series. I was listening to this song (which is up top) when I decided to make a fic out of it like I do for some reason. So I hope you enjoy it. Let's get into it.

Savannah had been dreaming of wrestling at WrestleMania for the longest time. Her popularity has finally taken off after she debuted and after she’d been seen training with legends like The Undertaker. She never thought she'd be able to wrestle in front of thousands of people at WrestleMania. It was like her dreams were coming true!

No one knew who she had feelings for or more importantly who she was dating. If they had they might have assumed that was how she got such a huge push in the wrestling world. Savannah wasn't a push over by any means but she would let that man do things to her that the men she had dated before could only have dreamed of! The way he took her for another round on the dining room table after dinner, eating her pussy like she was his last meal, bending over the table and pulling her arms behind her back "who's pussy is this?" He said, letting go of one arm and grabbing her hair "answer me!" He'd growl and she'd scream for him to fuck her harder. "What's my name baby?"

"Savannah, are you ready to go?" One of the crew member said snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Huh? Oh yeah I'm ready to go!" She smiled knowing that he was gonna be out there but she had to keep herself together and not let him know she was missing him. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

She'd done this a million times before, wrestling in front of thousands of people but he was never around to see it and now her heart was pounding. Was he gonna tease her while she was in the ring wrestling in front of thousands of people? All she could do was wait. But she had a plan. They had both discussed how they were gonna announce they were a couple and she came up with an idea. After she was done with her match she was supposed to say "Yeet" and he was gonna come up and give her a kiss but knowing him like she did he would always change shit at the last minute.

"Here we go!" she said, psyching herself up. She walked out to the ring with a smile. She'd had her clothes custom made. She wanted something sexy but something that she could move around easily in and the designers had made the perfect ensemble!

She heard her opponent's entrance and the cheer of the audience.

"You got this Savannah! You could take her down. You’ve been training with legends for gods sake. You can do it!" Scanning around the audience for him she found him just before the bell rang "Everything’s good right? They have to catch you if they can!" She winked at him. "There he is “Main Event” Jey Uso. He’s also my man."

This match was her favorite because she could tease him and he couldn't do anything about it... Yet!

"Come on! 1, 2, 3 ref" Her voice said, annoyed as her opponent kept kicking out. As she winked at him again he adjusted in his seat trying to hide the bulge that was forming. He was gonna make her beg him later. She looked sexy as fuck in that outfit! He wanted to jump in the ring and take her right there not caring who saw but this was a family show /event and he couldn't. "1, 2, 3. Yes I’m the new Women’s World Champion" she said directly to him watching him lick his lips. "Yes. That training and me constantly putting in the work paid off. '' As the match finished and the crowd cheered she prepared herself for what was to follow. Taking a deep breath she put the microphone to her lips and yelled "Wrestlemania!!" Giving a pause for cheers "YEET!!" Everyone in the crowd cheered and up the ramp he walked to her grabbing her in his embrace and kissing her in front of thousands of people.

"Jey Uso is dating Savannah Morgan. The new Women’s World Champion" Michael Cole said through the announcer's mic.

She lowered the microphone and felt the tickle of his beard against her ear "MINE" he growled making her bite her lip.

"That was an amazing match baby girl" he said admiring her performance "But that outfit" he growled in her ear "is coming off later! I'm gonna make sure we leave our DNA all over the hotel room!" She lightly punched his arm and they left the arena.

-I hope you guys enjoyed this! I had fun writing it. I love you guys so so so so so much. <33333

#wrestlemania #jey uso x oc #jey uso fic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso smut #jey uso #Spotify

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love-islike-abomb · 6 months

Text

Kiss the go-goat

Roman reigns x Y/N

Warnings: lots of fluff, errors I may have missed. Jimmy, Jey and solo are also in this fic briefly.

Tag list: @angelreigns444 @acknowledge-reigns @windhamsrotunda

_______

I was so nervous watching him through the screen backstage then I saw him smile at the camera and knew he knew I was watching!

My face got bright red and I smiled back without even realizing it.

"y/n what you grinning like a Cheshire cat for?" Jimmy asked before he looked at the screen "oooh" he smiled. "I gotta head out there I'll see you in a few" he said patting my shoulder. "Get em Jimmy!" I said before he headed out to the ring.

I kept watching on the screen until I saw solo at the ramp and waited. where was Jimmy? "There he is!" I said watching him put Romans foot on the rope. "Thank the gods!" I smiled. The tables started to turn and Roman hit the spear on LA. I watched the ref count 1....2....3!!!

"YYYYEEEESSSSSSS!!!" I screamed before dancing around. "y/n is everything ok?" I heard Jey ask. "Oh... Yeah Roman won!" I smiled.

"you really do love him don't you?" Jey asked

"I do!' I smiled "why?"

"because.i know how he feels about-" Jey got cut off by solo "uce let's go!" Solo said still in character.

Jey looked at solo and then back at me "talk to him y/n!" He said before catching up to solo. Just then Jimmy came backstage and I gave him a hug. That was awesome!!" I smiled "we whooped LA's ass!!" Jimmy smiled.

"yeah we did" a deep voice behind Jimmy said.

"I was just heading to the locker room uce" Jimmy said walking away.

"did you watch?" He smiled.

"I did! I was so happy when you won that i started dancing!" I giggled.

"dancing? Really?" He smiled

"yeah I was worried at first but I'm glad you won! It's late though I should head back to the hotel" I said turning around to walk away but he gently grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. I looked from his eyes to his lips before he closed the gap between us as we had a soft, yet passionate kiss!

"it's about damn time!" I heard Jimmy and Jey yell in unison.

"oh my gods!" I said blushing, trying to hide my face in his chest. He slowly lifted up my chin so my eyes met his "so what do you say y/n... You wanna be my girl?"

I smiled "of course!" Inside before our lips met again and Jimmy and Jey started cheering! He shooed them away with his hand, never breaking our kiss.

"let's head back to the hotel! I need a shower!" He said wiggling his eyebrows.

I winked at him "I do to!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fluff #wwe x yn #roman reigns x y/n #wwe fanfiction #crown jewel 2023 #wwe

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h0tchner · 3 years

Text

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

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spideyanakin · 2 years

Text

Fast Ferrari

Tom Holland x F1 Driver! Reader

Synopsis - You show off your driving skills while driving through fields.

I rewatched Rush and got inspired lmao; I hope the people who have watched this film will get the ref lmao. Also I can’t stop making f1 driver! fics and im not sorry lmao

🧚🏼‍♀️Masterlist🧚🏼‍♀️

“So Y/n” Robert Downey Junior raised an eyebrow as he turned his attention towards you. “I did hear you were a great driver.”

“Indeed.” You smiled as you gripped the wheel of your Ferrari a little tighter. This was by far your favorite car to drive around - the one Ferrari had given you after you scored formula 1 world champion under their team and you couldn’t believe you were driving RDJ, Chris Hemsworth around with your boyfriend; Tom who was grinning like an idiot from the passenger seat.

“People say I’m- well, world champion of driving.” You smirked.

“So I've heard.” He nodded along which made you crack a smile.

“I’ve always wondered how it would be like to be drive in those race cars.” He sighed looking out the window. “All fast and all.”

“Downey what game are you playing at?” Chris raised an eyebrows.

You looked around the road with a glim of mischief. You knew the roads around here, and you knew when to be careful of other cars.

“Alright.” You nodded. “Does everyone have their seatbelts on?” You wondered and they all nodded.

You were in the middle of no where, worst case scenario you would have to run into a field if a car got in the way.

“Y/n what are you doing-” Before Tom could even finish his sentence you pushed on the accelerator and everyone was pushed into their seat. The whole car screamed in excitement as you were going faster and faster, making a sharp turn that sent butterflies in everyone’s stomachs.

“Tom can you tell me if there’s a car coming?” You blurt out as you were getting closer and closer to the turn in the road.

“Huh?” He was too stunned to react. Trying to suppress the fast driving as much as he could, as he was gripping the seat for dear life.

“IS THERE A CAR COMING?” You yelled over the sound of the engine and Tom quickly turned his head realizing there was indeed a car coming from where you were suppose to go.

“Hang on.” You knew very well you could do this easy. It would scare the hell out of the driver in front, but you knew how to pass without crashing.

Suddenly you went even faster and everyone in the car felt like they were going so fast they were flying. RDJ was cheering from the back, and Chris’s face had gone white in fear.

“Y/n what are you doing?” Chris screamed as he closed his eyes.

“Making sure we don’t get into an accident.” You took another sharp turn and indeed passed right by the car without a scratch.

You faintly heard the honk of the driver you had passed, and realized the man had been so scared he had rolled into a field.

You started to slow down, and couldn’t stop your laughter as you saw Chris’s face.

“Y/n promise me to never do that again.” Tom gulped as he shrunk into his seat.

“C’mon! That was fun!”

#Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x you #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #tom holland #Peter Parker x reader #formula 1 driver reader #Peter parker

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uswntxfootball · 4 years

Text

Worth the stitches (Lindsey Horan x Reader)

request: @kweens14 ; ooo could you do protective lindsey horan x reader? thanks! love your fics :)

word count: 1831 ish You’re a quiet, non-confrontational forward for the uswnt, and in the eyes of Allysha Chapman, the perfect target for her illegal tackles. What she didn’t factor into the equation however, was a certain protective, very confrontational blonde midfielder. a/n: hfjsns the gif i wanted wouldn’t upload :( it was the one of horan shoving arod and i thought it would be fitting but tumbr was like haha nope so yeah :( anyways! its my first request that i’ve ever done! hope i did it justice! :)

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The game against Canada had been nothing short of brutal. It began with a quick goal for the US, courtesy of Carli Lloyd’s boot, but less than fifteen minutes into the game, the US found themselves tied with Canada after a sly chip from Sinclair. The game remained deadlocked in a tie for the next half hour, and just before halftime was when the Canadian national team began their attack. Illegal tackles began slowly finding their way into the game, with the refs turning a blind eye to what are obvious yellow and red card fouls. And when Alex Morgan is subbed off in the 31st minute with an injury, Canadian defender Allysha Chapman decides you’re going to be her next target. You were a quiet player, and you weren’t one to complain to refs or fight back against players. Chapman knew this, and she planned to take full advantage of it. ~~ You fall to the ground with a grimace as Chapman lands a particularly hard tackle on you, knocking you off of your feet. The first person by your side is your best friend and fellow Portland Thorns teammate, Lindsey, who’s patting your back and giving you a soft smile. “Are you okay?” she asks, you nodding your head, blushing, as she helps you to your feet. Your crush on the midfielder was painfully obvious to others, but lucky for you, Lindsey was oblivious to that fact and you planned to keep it that way. “Just a bruise on my hip but I’ll be okay” You reassure her. Lindsey nods reluctantly and walks away, not before giving Chapman a glare that could scare off a wild bear. The whistle sounds and just like that, the game continued. Even though there were only a few minutes left until half time, you had ended up on the turf six times after that initial tackle. Your uniform began to become stained green from the amount of time you spent on the turf. Lindsey had been at your side helping you get up every time you went down, your cheeks flushing every time. But it was now that you could see the rage swirling behind Lindsey’s eyes, watching as you went down and down again with no fouls being called. You give her forearm a reassuring squeeze, completely missing the way her eyes soften and cheeks flush, as you tell her you’re okay. The midfielder nods and lets out a few deep breaths to calm down, as you both head back towards the game. And not even a few seconds later, the seventh tackle hits and you’re back on the ground. You watch from the ground eyes widening as Lindsey grits her teeth and her hands begin to clench up into a fist all the while walking towards Chapman. You quickly scramble off the ground and run towards the woman before she can make it there. You put your hands on her shoulders and turn her head so she faces you. Your eyes widen at the sight of pure anger on her face, and just as you’re about to speak, the whistle blows, signaling the end of the first half. You grab her hand and drag the midfielder off the field, leading her into the hallway behind the locker room. ~~ You let go of her hand when you reach the back, opting instead to place your hand on her forearm, giving the midfielder a squeeze. “Just stay calm. It’s okay.” “But it’s not okay! The refs are literally blind considering that Chapman has made tackles that are definitely red card worthy!” She growls, throwing her arms up in frustration. “I know I know, but murder is unfortunately illegal”. You joke, hoping it’ll cheer her up a bit and lighten the mood. The blonde relents and gives a small smile and chuckle, leaning her head down onto your shoulder. Lindsey’s eyebrows furrow when you move out from under her, but her cheeks flush red as you then turn to wrap your arms around her, your head against her chest. “I’m okay I promise.” You say, pulling back to look her in her eyes. “I just don’t want you to get hurt”. “Aw you actually care about me?” You tease, Lindsey rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Of course I care about you doofus, I actually like having you around” She says, completely missing the way your cheeks heat up. You lean back into her chest, and you stay there, listening to her heartbeat. Lindsey stands there, cheeks flushed as she wraps her arms around you, silently hoping you don’t hear how fast her heart is pounding in her chest. Just as she opens her mouth to say something, Kelley yells from the locker room, “Eyo Horan! Y/LN! Time to go!” You pull away from the blonde reluctantly, and with a wave of courage, You lean in to give her a quick peck on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you for caring about me though”. Lindsey stands still with her mouth agape, hand on her flushed cheek as she watches you walk back towards the pitch. You’re halfway down the hall when you turn around to see the woman still standing there and you call out, “Linds?” “Coming!” ~~ Unfortunately for you, things weren’t much better in the second half. Chapman was still on you, tackling you left and right whenever the ball was at your feet. Lindsey was right by your side every time, you reassuring her every time, and her reluctantly agreeing to not rip Chapman’s head off every time. But at the 78th minute is when everything changes. Lindsey’s eyes widen when she sees Chapman coming in behind you, sliding in for a tackle, studs up. And to her horror, this time you let out a pained wail as you fall to the ground, gripping your calf. Lindsey like usual, is at your side, but this time, you weren’t telling her that you were fine. You weren’t telling her not to rip Chapman’s head off. You were crying and your sock and leg were soaked in blood. The medics are at your side immediately, and when they roll down your sock and take one look at your calf, they turn to Vlatko and give him the sign for the need of a substitute. Lindsey can only watch, frozen in shock, as you’re carried off of the field and into the back. The rage she felt inside her earlier was back, but this time, it was ten times stronger. Christen, who came on as your sub, along with the rest of the team, witness with wide eyes from across the field the result of Lindsey Horan’s fury. What she screamed at Chapman and the ref couldn’t be heard by the rest of the team, but what the team could see was the solid punch that sent Chapman sprawling onto the ground. Plus with the crack that came from the impact to Chapman’s face, what was most likely a broken nose if not more, and as a result, the look of true terror spreading on the Canadian defender’s face. Lindsey doesn’t even wait for the ref to pull out the red card when she bolts off of the field in search of you. ~~ You sat in the locker room with your leg stitched and bandaged. Chapman had left some nasty marks in your leg with her cleats, and you’re sure you’re going to have a permanent scar because of it. You could hear the roar of the crowd in the stadium, meaning someone probably scored, but you could care less as your mind was focused elsewhere. Specifically, on a certain blonde midfielder. Since the game was still going on, your brows furrow when you hear cleats clicking on the tile floor, and you look up to see the woman you had been thinking about a few seconds prior. “What are you doing here?” You ask, your brows furrowed in confusion. “That’s not important. How’s your leg?” She asks, before taking a seat on the bench next to you. “It’s okay, I got it stitched up. No major injuries, just some flesh wounds, so I should be okay playing next game.” “Can’t say the same about me.” Lindsey snorts, your brows furrowing in confusion again before you ask, “Linds... what did you do?” After much silence she mumbles quietly, “I may have broken Chapman’s nose.” “You did what??!” “Yeah” She muttered, looking down at her cleats. It’s then that you notice her right fist, knuckles swollen and colored with angry red and purple blots. “Oh Linds..” You sigh, grabbing her right arm to take a closer look at her hand. She turns to you with a blush, gasping when you take her hand in yours and place a light kiss to her knuckles. When you look up at her, you notice a glassy sheen over those green eyes you adored so much. “Wha-“ You’re cut off when Lindsey surges forward and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. You blink once. twice. Lindsey Horan was kissing you. And you weren’t kissing back. Before you can reciprocate, Lindsey pulls back and starts to apologize. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me and I jus-“ You shut her up by grabbing the front of her jersey and pulling her in to give her a kiss. The kiss is a short and sweet confession, and when she kisses you back, your life is complete. You pull back after a few seconds and press your forehead against hers, and all you can do is smile. “Go on a date with me.” Lindsey states after a while and you let out a snort saying, “Isn’t that supposed to be a question? Like will you go on a date with me?” “I mean duh right of course I’m sorry I meant, will you go on a date with me?” Lindsey stutters nervously, hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m sorry I just assumed tha-“ You interrupt her with a kiss. “Yes of course I’ll go on a date with you, you dork.” You say while rolling your eyes. Lindsey’s face splits into a huge grin and she leans in for another kiss when the team bursts into the locker room. Megan’s eyes widen when she sees the two of you and she nearly screams, “KELLEY YOU OWE ME FIFTY BUCKS!” Kelley winces and opens her mouth to speak when Ashlyn steps up and slaps Lindsey on the back. “Y/N, you should’ve seen her dude. She went all Rocky Balboa on Chapman and totally rocked her SHIT!” This makes the whole team laugh and earns her a slap on the back of her head from Ali who chides her on her language. As you watch the team bicker amongst themselves, you lay your head on Lindsey’s shoulder and stare up at her, the woman looking back at you with a loving smile. And so a few months later when the US played Canada again, all it took was one glare from Lindsey (who by now is your girlfriend btw), and Chapman made sure to keep herself far, far away from you.

#lindsey horan #lindsey horan imagine #lindsey horan x reader #uswnt #nwsl #portland thorns #uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader

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