maven

she/her

[loserlesbiancoded]

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

𖦹 i'm maven, she/her, lesbian, and i write for fun :)

𖦹 i'm never not swamped with college, so i'll probably take a while between posts

𖦹 of legal age (minors dni)

𖦹 requests open!

masterlist

[loserlesbiancoded]

hi, this is the mari friends to lovers anon!! thank u again for responding to my req :) i'm rly impressed w the quality and speed of ur output. i was wondering how long you've been writing and how many hours you write per day/week?

thank you!! you’re not the first person who’s told me that about the speed of my output and honestly i consider myself a slow writer lol. i think i’ve been writing fics for tumblr for about a year now? or maybe a little less? i used to dabble a little when i was a teenager (for other fandoms) but i wasn’t very good at it and never really followed through, but last year i decided to give it a go again.

as for the hours, it honestly varies. sometimes i’ll go the whole week without doing any writing, sometimes i’ll do a little (like an hour) every night, sometimes i’ll take a lazy day off and spend like 4 hours or so at it. i think i wrote the mari fic you requested in 4 days? i remember it was a pretty busy week so i got it done whenever i had some free time, but it really depends!!

[loserlesbiancoded]

☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ♱ nat scatorccio masterlist

⋆ oneshots

the eyes, they never lie - even though it’s been 5 years since you were rescued, the wilderness still haunts you. somehow, natalie finds a way to be there when you need her the most.

stress relief - you're not gay. still, for some reason, you can't seem to stop hooking up with the sexy stoner from your college soccer team, even when it means sneaking around behind your boyfriend's back in order to do so.

attention - natalie dumped you years ago, and as much as you like to pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore, that's not the truth. it only gets worse when she shows up to tai and van's wedding with her new boyfriend.

⋆ multiple-part fics

if only gravity was a choice - three years ago, you and natalie, your former hookup and high school soccer teammate, had a bad breakup, and you haven't heard from her since. it's like she completely vanished off the face of the earth, and everyone still walks on eggshells around you when it comes to her. so, when your friends van and taissa organize a weekend at their lake house for your former teammates, you're surprised to see nat decided to show.

matter of time - you and nat got divorced 2 years ago after repeating the same mistakes from the past, and you've been holding out... relatively well. the only problem is your son, luke, and his tireless insistence on celebrating his birthday on a camping trip with both of his moms.

[loserlesbiancoded]

♥ attention

♥ pairing: nat scatorccio x fem!reader

♥ additional tags/warnings: no crash, modern, ex!nat, angst, unresolved feelings, cheating, travnat

♥ word count: 6.9k

♥ summary: natalie dumped you years ago, and as much as you like to pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore, that's not the truth. it only gets worse when she shows up to tai and van's wedding with her new boyfriend.

You may kiss the bride.

The words echoed in your ears like a dream, distant, mere background noise to the view you'd had your eyes set on the whole afternoon.

Nat.

Refreshed, beautiful, as radiant as she'd ever been — standing out among the dozens of people in the venue so ethereally that everything seemed to slow when she moved. You swallowed thickly, hand twitching at your side with the urge to wipe away the tear that threatened to spill, because you saw it. The proud smile on her lips. The glint in her eyes that appeared every single time she was about to cry. The way she looked down for a moment, then back up, breath catching just enough for a trained eye to notice.

Nat was otherworldly, truly. It always made you weak, and today wasn't different — in fact it might've been stronger, the orange glow of the sun shining on her face like it was so jealous of her magnetism it had to try and compete. But it didn't win. It couldn't win, not against Nat, it never even stood a chance.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but your eyes stayed on the same place. On Nat's face, her smile, the way she glowed like a light and swept you off your feet for the thousandth time today with nothing but her beauty.

“Ugh, they're so great together,” Lottie nudged you lightly with her elbow, pulling you off your trance, making every cheer seem louder now that you'd torn your eyes away from where they'd been. “I'm so happy for them.”

You cleared your throat, finally remembering you were supposed to smile instead of just standing there staring daggers at your ex.

“Right. Yeah, they are.”

You watched Van lean Tai over and kiss her lips like a movie scene, genuinely happy for your friends, but you were already long past the point of pretending you could make that your main focus for the day. You'd tried. You'd been trying since you woke up this morning, knowing you'd probably see her at the wedding — I'm in a good place, I have a good life, it’s been a long time and I'm over her —, and for a moment you really thought you had it. You’d see Nat and you'd say your polite hellos and everything would be fine. You’d been repeating it to yourself all morning, it's been a long time. It didn't have to be awkward, and it didn't have to hurt.

Until she walked in with Travis fucking Martinez on her arm and you felt like you’d been punched in the stomach.

Your plan pretty much went down the drain after that.

Because sure, you’d heard (from fucking Jackie, of all people) that she'd moved to a different city after college — and you remembered Coach Martinez at the five-year reunion, drunk on cheap sparkling wine, babbling on about his son fucking off to the same place. And yeah, you'd wondered. Big city, two people from Nowheresville, Fucktown, and they'd always gotten along relatively well back in high school. You'd even teased it, long before everything went to shit and you were still allowed to joke around Nat — you know Travis only comes to practice with his dad so he can watch you play, right? She'd laugh. She'd always laugh. You're imagining things, she'd say with a squeeze to your hand and a kiss to your cheek, so calm, so Natalie — so you dropped it, because why wouldn't you?

Maybe you should have pushed harder. Or maybe you’d brought this on yourself, planting ideas in her head that matured over time until they finally flowered when their new lives crashed together.

Whatever it'd been, the whole spectacle was like a horror movie you watched through a gap between your fingers. Natalie bit her lip and leaned over to say something in Travis’ ear as Van and Tai turned toward the guests with big smiles, and you wondered if he even realized she was trying not to cry. His hand did something weird, probably rubbing her thigh over her dress, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. He laughed, light and quick, but he didn't put an arm around her, and he didn't say anything back — clueless fucking idiot. You wanted to chuckle, to whisper something mean-spirited to Lottie that would definitely crack the whole I don't give a shit facade you'd been trying to maintain all day, but you decided against it. What good would it do? Travis was the one sitting next to her, while you stared at them from across a crowded venue and dreamt of what could've been. You were already the butt of the joke, you didn't need to give them more fuel.

Tai and Van walked up the aisle hand in hand, glowing as they smiled at the guests and headed inside to freshen up for the reception, and everyone started getting up once they were gone. Shauna, who'd been just a few seats down, smiled at you, hand finding your arm as she pulled you close, leaning over till her lips were mere inches from your ear.

“Fix your face,” she whispered, friendly but firm. “You're gonna burn a hole through his skull if you keep staring like that.”

You forced a smile, trying to at least look composed, letting your hand find her lower back like you were simply greeting an old friend.

“Good,” you muttered under your breath, “I hope it works.”

Shauna chuckled, hugging you back, shaking her head slightly.

“For what it’s worth, I can't believe she brought fucking Flex. I'd be pissed too if I were you.”

You let out a half-laugh at the nickname, happy to at least have someone on your side, already pulling her toward the reception area because you needed a drink and you needed it now — and if Shauna's glares at her husband told you anything at all, she was going to be your buddy for the night.

It only got worse from then on.

Apparently Tai and Van had decided it was a good idea to seat all of the old gang together, including plus ones, including the emo kid who used to lurk around the sidelines staring at your girlfriend. You tried to remain neutral, sat between Lottie and Shauna, silently wishing Van wasn't one of the brides so she could ease the situation with her light sense of humor. Nat and Travis approached the table a few minutes after you did — and while they were smiling obnoxiously and rubbing their happy couple status in your face, at least she had the decency to drop his hand before getting too close, which you appreciated. It also helped that you already had a glass of champagne in hand, half empty, eyes scanning the place for the waiter with the next one.

“Oh my God, you guys!” Misty was the one to do the honors, standing up like she'd ever exchanged more than two words with Travis back in high school — which you were pretty sure wasn't the case. “You two look amazing! Come on, come sit with us!”

Try-hard, you thought, but you obviously wouldn't say it. She gestured at the last two empty seats — directly across from you, of fucking course — and that's where they settled, smiling, Nat's eyes running through everybody but you, skimming past your face like you were part of the wallpaper. 

“Hey, guys,” she said, voice so annoyingly calm you wanted to grab her face and punch it. Or kiss it. Or maybe alternate between the two until you figured out which would feel the best. “I missed you, it's been a while.”

She didn't say anything about Travis, like it was natural for him to just be there, and that somehow felt worse than a formal introduction as a boyfriend or whatever she considered him to be.

The mood settled quickly at the table, with everyone saying their quick hellos and how have you beens and you look so goods while you stayed silent, smiling just enough not to be completely rude, clinging to that glass of champagne like a baby to a bottle. Your knee bobbed incessantly as your eyes periodically fell on Travis’ elbow, his forearm disappearing under the table, making you wonder where his hand was. On Nat's thigh? On her knee? Around her wrist? You didn't want to know. God, this was pathetic, you were pathetic. She'd broken up with you when you were twenty years old and here you sat, years later, still jealous of anybody that got too close.

Well, in your defense, she didn't have to bring him along.

“What about you, Y/N?” Laura Lee asked, leaning over the table, kind eyes set on your face.

You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of your name, feeling Shauna's light kick on your ankle under the table.

“Mm?” You asked absently, lifting your head in record time.

“What have you been up to lately?” Laura Lee doubled down, that patient smile still on her lips. “It’s like we only ever see you on occasions like this.”

You cleared your throat with a nod, forcing a smile, deeming it safe to keep your gaze focused on Laura Lee and Laura Lee only.

“Oh, uh, you know. Work. Friends. Got a pretty good deal on an apartment last year, so there's that…” You shrugged, picking up your second (or was it your third?) glass of champagne like it could singlehandedly keep you from going  crazy. “Pretty steady.”

“Ooh, a home owner!” Laura Lee smiled radiantly, somehow looking genuinely excited about your boring answer, bless her heart. “That's a miracle these days. Congratulations!”

Some of the girls raised their glasses in agreement, discreet and lighthearted, and you watched as Nat did the same a millisecond too late. You didn't react. Instead, you just smiled awkwardly until someone else spoke, finally changing the subject, letting some other poor bastard be sucked into the spotlight next.

The evening went on, everyone getting more and more buzzed by the minute, champagne flowing like Tai and Van had an unlimited alcohol budget in store for the party. Jackie — of course it was fucking Jackie — leaned forward, arms crossed over the table, smiling crookedly as she looked in Natalie and Travis’ direction.

“Okay, I just have to ask,” she said, leaning closer, clumsily bumping her shoulder against Mari's in the process. “What's the story there?”

You could feel the whole table deliberately avoid looking your way, and Shauna's sigh was loud enough for only you and Jeff to hear. Jackie had gone there. She'd really gone there, and you didn't know whether to scream at her or to get the fuck out of the venue before you had to hear Natalie's answer.

But you did neither. You just sat there, picking at the tablecloth, dead silent as you waited.

Nat's smile faded a little, and anybody could've noticed the question had made her uncomfortable — anybody except her fucking boyfriend, apparently, who looked at her face and waited for her to say something like a dog waiting to be petted. She looked back at him, lips curving in that small way that didn't reach her eyes, but of course he didn't see it. There was a lot he didn't see, you figured. She nudged him gently, a silent plea for him to take this one that you would've caught before she even had to move, but it wasn't your place anymore.

Travis, slow and clueless and perpetually doing justice to his old brainless stoner reputation, seemed to finally catch on (surprisingly so), looking back at Jackie with a proud grin on his obnoxious face.

“We, uh… ran into each other at the grocery store, actually,” his arm did something weird again, and you couldn't help but look this time, boiling as you realized he'd likely just squeezed her knee right in front of your face. “I didn't even know Nat was living in the same city as me. And then I bumped into this cool chick in line and… well, there she was.”

“Sounds like a Hallmark meetcute,” Jackie offered with a smile that was most definitely forced, if you had to guess.

“Yeah. I used to be super into her back in high school, so I figured I'd just… man up and ask her out already.”

You were thankful for the glass of champagne already on your lips when he said that, otherwise nothing could have stifled the dismissive scoff you let out. Super into her back in high school — yeah, you'd called that. And the whole man up bit? With you right there, sitting across from them like everything you'd been through with Natalie had never even fucking happened? Just distasteful. Plainly tone deaf, but if Nat tolerated it you wouldn't be the one to call him out.

You waited a few minutes before excusing yourself to the bathroom, not wanting to be too obvious about how their cute little story kept echoing in your head even after the subject shifted. 

On your way out, like the world's longest running cosmic joke, there she was. At the threshold, smoothing out her dress, avoiding bumping into you just by an inch or two. Natalie. Even prettier from up close, dark makeup highlighting the blue in her eyes like she hadn't thought to have at least some mercy on you before she left her hotel. Standing so close you could smell her perfume, still amber and vanilla, still so incredibly Natalie the thought of Travis being the one to feel it now made you want to die.

“Oh— sorry,” she muttered, lips pressed into a thin line once she realized it was you she'd run into, stopping awkwardly in place as she kept holding onto the black fabric with pale fingers. “Mari spilled champagne on my dress, I just… wanted to see if I can get some of it off.”

You cleared your throat, deliberately avoiding her eyes, knowing you couldn't be trusted to be alone with her for long without the words fuck you or I miss you  coming out of your mouth.

“Uh, good luck with that. I hear hot water helps.”

“Right,” she nodded, and you were already on your way out when you heard her voice again. “Hey, wait.”

As much as you'd have liked to pretend you didn't listen and go on about your night, you were never strong enough when it came to Nat.

“Yeah?”

“I just…” She hesitated, like she hadn't really thought of what she'd say past this point. “Uh, congrats. About the apartment thing.”

You blinked, surprised that that's what she'd chosen to go with.

“Uh, thanks. You too,” you breathed, a bit too drunk to hold your tongue. “About the boyfriend thing.”

You weren't sure if the sound of Natalie's breath hitching was real or just a product of your drunken imagination, but you figured you wouldn't stay to find out. You turned on your heel before she could say anything else, mumbling a soft “I should probably…” and walking out while you still could.

You didn't go back to the table, not yet, you couldn't deal with Travis’ face or his smug grin or the sound of his voice as he bragged about his oh-so-perfect relationship with your girlfriend.

Your ex. Your ex-girlfriend. God, the champagne was really doing its job already.

It was probably good that you stayed away for a little while. You'd already made that pointed comment to Natalie in the bathroom, God knows what you might say next. So you wandered over to the dance floor, scanning the place, eyes landing on Tai and Van as they swayed together like there was nobody else in the room. You hung back for a moment, crossing your arms and simply watching, a little smirk popping on your lips despite all the shit you'd been through tonight. They deserved it. They were happy. They were really good for each other.

It made you think about all you'd lost.

Yeah, you were tired of the woe is me bullshit you’d been pulling all night, but you couldn't help but compare. You and Nat had started dating around the same time as Tai and Van, sophomore year of high school, young and wide-eyed and thinking nothing could touch you as you snuck behind the bleachers to make out and smoke cigarettes together. You'd gotten into a college just a few hours away from hers, which worked for a while, and then the problems started. You couldn't make the drive one week, and then she couldn't the other, and by your second year there were days when you’d barely talk. You’d kept waiting to come home over break and finally have some real time together, only for her to tell you she needed to find herself first thing after you showed up with flowers to her mom's trailer, tears streaming down her face, your heart shattered into a million different pieces.

Well, whoever it was that she was looking for, she'd apparently found her. And now she was with Travis Martinez — fucking Flex, for crying out loud.

“They're perfect for each other, aren't they?”

Someone pulled you from your thoughts, an unfamiliar voice, a beautiful woman in a bridesmaid's dress with a smile on her lips.

You nodded, polite, trying to let go of your own bitterness for a second.

“Yeah. They really are.”

“Can't take my eyes off of them. I love Van so much, I'm so glad she's part of the family now.”

You forced a smile.

“You're Taissa's family?”

The woman nodded, introducing herself as Tai's cousin, making light conversation about the ceremony and the music and how beautiful both brides looked. It was a nice distraction — though you knew you weren't your most charismatic self tonight, you figured small talk with a stranger beat watching Nat and Travis make eyes at each other from across the table, so you stayed there.

The waiter walked by and offered you both more champagne, and though you shouldn't, you still said yes. Tai’s cousin kept talking and smiling and generously laughing at the stuff you said, which was weird because you were painfully aware of how unfunny it all was, but you took the win. It wasn't until she touched your arm and slowly let her fingertips drag through it that you realized what she was all about, what this was all about, why she'd been pretending to laugh at every bad joke you’d been telling for the past half hour.

“You wanna dance?” She finally asked, leaning closer, still touching you.

You weren't really in the mood, but you figured it couldn't hurt. You could use the distraction and hey, maybe that'd get your head off Natalie for a little bit. Maybe that'd make you stop scanning the venue for a hint of her every five seconds, wondering if she was still thinking about what you said in the bathroom.

This could be a good thing if you let it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling a bit more deliberately now, choosing to simply go with it. “I'd love to.”

You let her lead you to the dance floor, wrapping an arm around her waist and moving side to side in tune with the soft ballad, her hands circling your shoulders. You stayed there for the rest of the song, not leaving when the next one started, the smile on your lips almost confident enough for yourself to believe you actually wanted to be there.

Gradually, as the band proceeded to play a collection of slower, more romantic songs than the upbeat ones from before, couples started crowding the dance floor. Among them, out of the corner of your eye, of course — Natalie and Travis, his hand on hers as he led her, fingers grazing her hip when they finally settled in place.

You kept dancing with Tai's cousin (whose name you honestly couldn't even remember at this point), but your eyes were somewhere else. While she settled her head on your shoulder, apparently committing to the bit, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Travis. His hand, pulling Nat closer by the waist, possessive fingertips crinkling the fabric of her dress. His chest, nestling the side of her head like that's where she belonged now, with him, letting herself be led by someone who clearly didn’t know how to do it right. It's not that Travis was a bad dancer, he was okay, but he simply didn't know how to dance with her. It made you mad. He stood so tall, so smug, smiling to himself all night like Natalie was the prize for some competition he'd finally managed to win, but you saw it. The cracks, the silent pleas, the one hundred hints he didn't take. He didn't know her. Not like you once had, not like you still did after all these years if you'd been reading the signs correctly tonight.

You swallowed, now blatantly staring, but you didn't care anymore. He moved his hands, pulling her closer by the hips, a mere inch away from her ass, and it made you see red. Didn't he know Nat hated that? Didn't he know she didn't like to be claimed that way in public?

Your blood was boiling, it was all too intimate, it was all too much. God, he was the one who touched her now. He was the one she lay next to, the one who took off her dress, the one she made love to. Did he do enough to satisfy her? Did he care about how she felt, or was it just another time when he treated her like an accessory to fulfill his ego? You could throw up just thinking about it. He didn't deserve to be there, he didn't deserve to be hers.

Your eyes wandered further, finally falling on Nat’s, only to realize she was looking right back at you.

And from the look on her face — that pathetic, ridiculous, beautiful guilty expression with the parted lips and the round eyes —, she’d probably been staring for a while.

This time, you didn't back down. You didn't chicken out like you did in the bathroom — you locked eyes with her, staring right into her soul as you swayed with another woman and she stood inside the arms of her fucking boyfriend. It was petty, it was immature, but you wanted her to see what she'd done to you. You wanted her to see just how she’d wrecked you. You wanted her to see that you saw what she was missing, what someone like Travis simply couldn't provide, not in the way you could.

Nat met you right where you were, looking back at you, barely registering it when Travis’ hand pressed down on her lower back like he was handling dough. You stared at each other for the entirety of the song. You didn't even remember blinking, to be honest, too entranced, too lost in the moment to focus on anything but her face, gorgeous and guilty, looking at you like she could see exactly what was going on inside your head.

She could always read you better than anyone else.

The song came to an end eventually, some upbeat 2000s tune signaling the floor was no longer for sappy slow dances, and the moment was broken. You pulled away from Taissa's cousin, suddenly too overwhelmed to be under Nat's gaze for even a second longer, offering her an apologetic smile and a pat on the shoulder.

“I— I had fun, I just… sorry, I need to step out for a smoke.”

And you walked away before she could even answer. You didn't look at Nat, you didn't check to see if she'd stayed on the floor with Travis or gone back to the table. It was all too much too fast, and the way your head spun around because of the champagne wasn't helping.

The night air felt crisp on your face once you stepped out of the venue, but it didn't do much to cool you down. You were burning — caught between a weird mix of jealousy, rage and longing that you couldn't sort out, Nat's face under the lights tattooed on your brain in a way that only made it all hurt worse. You couldn't be trusted to go back inside, not right now, not like that. Not when you felt everything that intensely. Not when you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your tongue if you saw his hands on her again.

You took a deep breath, not even carrying the cigarette you said you'd gone out for (you hadn’t really smoked since Nat left), settling for the night breeze and the buzz from the champagne instead. It was the first time all night you'd managed to just stop, still hot from the dance floor, head pounding with a billion thoughts of Natalie running through it.

“What the hell was that?”

A voice interrupted you, raspy and cutting, the sound of the door opening and closing aggressively filling the previous silence. Natalie stood there with a heavy chest and furrowed brows, staring at you in a way that was now less guilty and more confrontational, the same she used to save for touchy opponents back in your soccer days.

“What?!” You played dumb, a dishonest attempt to buy some time or at least figure out what she was so pissed about, but you knew what you’d been doing.

Nat scoffed bitterly, taking a step closer like she was ready to fight, and you remembered how she’d get when those guys from the baseball team yelled mean spirited things to you both from their car. It’s not worth it, baby, you’d tell her, secretly loving the protective aggression — but, as it turned out, it didn’t feel good to be at the other end of the stick.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” She chuckled, crossing her arms like she needed to balance herself, shaking her head in pure sarcasm. “You have some nerve. Rolling your eyes at everything Travis said all night. Saying that shit in the bathroom like you’re better than me. Fucking… judging me when I was with him just now, I fucking saw it.”

You matched her energy, letting out a chuckle of your own, offering her a petulant smile and a head tilt.

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Projecting?” You apparently accomplished exactly what you’d tried with that little comment, because Natalie looked like she was about to breathe fire. “You were making out with some random girl all night just to try and get to me and I’m projecting?”

Oh, bingo.

“I wasn’t trying to get to anyone. And we weren’t making out,” you smiled deliciously, savoring the temporary win. “See what I’m talking about?”

The words flowed heavily with the weight of however many glasses of champagne you'd both had, filterless, spat out after years of silence. You didn't expect her to get this mad, and you didn't expect to actually act on the lump you'd had in your throat all day, but now it was like you just couldn't hold it in anymore. If that's how Nat wanted to do this, you weren't gonna be the one to back down.

“God,” Nat ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, dropping both arms with exaggerated force, “don't do this. Don't fucking do this, it's pathetic.”

You were the one to cross your arms this time, confrontational, raising your chin like that would somehow make you seem taller.

“And what exactly am I doing?”

“Acting like I'm fucking crazy. Like I've been seeing things all night. I'm not blind, Y/N, and I'm not stupid.”

“I'm not fucking acting like anything, Natalie, God!” You huffed, rolling your eyes, throwing your head back. “Don't flatter yourself like that.”

“Right. I'm flattering myself. That's why you've been looking at me with that fucking… condescending look on your face all night. Like I'm a fucking monster for, what, finding someone else? Moving on?”

You laughed bitterly, nodding mockingly, turning your eyes away from her.

“Yeah, Nat, because I care that you’re with fucking Flex now,” you did, and the tone in which you said it was so pointed that it wasn't even hard to figure it out, but you weren't about to admit it. “Real upgrade.”

Nat scoffed dismissively, disappointed at your use of the nickname.

“Really? You're gonna go there?”

“You're the one who brought him to the wedding. Tai and Van's wedding. What, you thought no one was gonna talk about it? You thought everyone would think it was fucking normal for him to be here?”

“He's my boyfriend, Y/N,” the word came out of her lips raspily, lower now, and you would have preferred it if she'd just come out and punched you in the face. “Am I supposed to not bring him to things?”

You sighed, shaking in your heels in a way you hadn't expected to, moving two steps back like you'd taken a push. You hated it. You hated looking weak in front of her, you hated that you knew it was all over your face. You hated that word, boyfriend — God, Nat had a boyfriend, it didn't sound right, it didn't feel right.

Nat swallowed, looking away from you with her lips pursed, crossing her arms again — this time less angry, more deliberate.

“Do whatever you want, Nat,” you said weakly, the combat wearing off like that simple term had been enough to fully drain the fight from your body, and now all you wanted to do was turn around and get the fuck out of there. “Congratu-fucking-lations. You needed to find yourself, I'm glad you finally did.”

Her brows furrowed as she took a step forward, not letting you off the hook, and you could spot the slight shake in her knees too.

“Wait, is that what this is about?” She asked accusingly, like that had been the most offensive thing you'd said to her all night. “Something I said when I was fucking twenty?”

You looked down, out of fuel now, not even able to come up with an answer because yes, it was about that, and you'd set yourself up. Nat let out an exasperated huff, almost a chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched you shrink in real time.

“Whatever, Natalie,” that was the best you could do at the moment, and you were well aware of how pathetic it was.

“Oh my God, Y/N, that was years ago!” She exclaimed, frustrated. “I didn't know shit back then! And now you're using it against me after all this time because, what, you think I'm supposed to feel guilty about it forever? Would that make you feel better, if I'd shown up miserable and alone?”

“Don't say that,” you rasped back, still not looking at her, wanting to disappear. “Don't say you didn't know shit like you were just some stupid kid and you're above it all now. I know you're not.”

Nat let out a snort, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm not?”

“No, you're not,” you doubled down, figuring there was no use hiding it anymore, the champagne and the hurt making you say what you really felt for the first time tonight. “You fell out of love with me, fine, we grow up, we grow apart. But don't stand here and tell me that you think Travis is right for you, because I know that's a fucking lie.”

She swallowed thickly, turning her gaze away for a second — enough for you to see you'd stricken a nerve.

“You don't get to tell me what's right for me,” she said, voice shaking, confirming your suspicion. “You don't even know me anymore.”

“Bullshit, Natalie,” you shook your head. “Yeah, you're right, I was watching. I was staring. And all I saw tonight was him repeatedly taking you for granted. Missing signs. Talking about you like you're some prize he got after being a sorry fucking idiot his whole life. So if I don't fucking know you, don’t try to tell me that he does.”

Natalie ran her hands through her face, apparently not caring that she might mess up her makeup, taking a few steps to the side like she didn't know what to do with herself.

“God. You're— you're infuriating,” she muttered, muffled by her hands, dropping her arms. “You don't get to do this. Just— talk about who knows me or how he treats me when you ignored every single text I sent after we were done. When you didn't even care that I tried to reach out. And now, what, suddenly you give a shit?”

You froze, because she was right. She'd reached out a couple of times, texts popping up on your phone screen a few months after the breakup, no longer than two or three words. But still — that didn't count. You didn't want her pity check-ins, you didn't want her guilt-ridden half-words. So you’d ignored them, heartbroken and humiliated, figuring you'd spare yourself from any more embarrassment than she'd already put you through.

“I'm not sure you can call a fucking ‘you there’ text in the middle of the night reaching out, Nat.”

“Well, it was something,” she stepped up defensively. “And you never even said anything back. I didn't think you'd move on that fast.”

You chuckled humorlessly, shocked, unable to believe just how much she'd misread the situation.

“You think I didn't say anything because I'd moved on?” You took a step forward too, brows furrowed in utter disbelief. “I was heartbroken, Nat. I spent months trying to pick up the pieces after you dumped me. Do you know how offensive it was to wake up to your drunk texts like, what, you were trying to absolve your guilt and call it a day?”

Nat stopped in place, lips parting as she let out a tortured breath that seemed to come right from the pit of her stomach.

“I wasn't trying to—” She closed her eyes, sighing, shaking her head once. “It was never about guilt, Y/N. I was trying to fucking talk to you. Tell you I’d made a mistake. That I shouldn't have let you go. But you never even answered, so I thought— I just figured you'd— I thought you didn't wanna hear it.”

It took a moment for you to let that sink in.

“You… you were trying to…”

“To get back together,” she interrupted, defeated now, voice lower. “To beg you to forgive me and take me back. But I knew how much I hurt you, so when I thought you'd moved on, I just figured I'd leave you alone. I didn't wanna drag you back into my bullshit.”

“You should've—” You stammered, head spinning so hard you couldn't bring yourself to say a full sentence. “You should've tried harder. You should've— I don't know, you should've showed up. I’d have taken you back in a second,” you admitted, not above the truth at this point.

Nat swallowed, a sad smile popping up on her lips, like she'd also realized how different things could've been if you'd both just let go of your stupid pride while you still could.

“I didn't wanna risk hurting you again. If you were already over it, I didn't wanna…” she trailed off. “I was a fucking idiot.”

You both stayed quiet for a moment, looking at each other in painful realization now, the fire of the argument fading in the night breeze. You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, figuring you should say something to at least try and make things a little better.

“I'm sorry I was such a bitch tonight. It was just…” You sighed. “Tai and Van got married, and I guess deep down I always thought that we'd… anyway. I saw you with Travis and it… opened up an old wound I thought had healed by now.”

Natalie shook her head.

“It's okay. I didn't have to get so defensive.”

“No, no. It's not okay. I shouldn't have said those things about your relationship, you're right, it's… it's been a long time. I don't know you anymore.”

She took a step forward, closer now, the closest you'd been all night since the bathroom. A sad chuckle left her lips as her eyes turned to the side, like she was ready to say something she'd been keeping in for a while.

“Travis is nice,” she started. “He… does shit like get doors and offer to carry my bags or whatever, and he… he likes me. But you're right. We're not… good together. Whatever that fit is, we just don't have it.”

You looked at Natalie, honest and beautiful in the moonlight, and your heart stopped for a second.

“You don't?”

She shook her head.

“No. He's… a stand-in,” she took another step closer, now at arm's length, making every inch of your body burn with the desire to close the distance. “A distraction. A familiar face I saw after months of living in a city where I didn't really know anyone, and he seemed interested enough. It was never gonna amount to anything.”

You didn't say anything, you couldn't. All you managed to do was stand there, waiting, dying to know what she'd do next.

“You know, it's stupid,” she said, quieter now, low enough for her words to be carried by the breeze. “I wasn't even gonna bring him today. I figured I'd avoid the whole… thing with the girls, the stares, the comments. I didn't think it’d be worth it for something that's just gonna fizzle out soon anyway.”

You licked your lips, eyes set on her face.

“Why did you bring him, then?”

“Because of you,” she took another step, shortening the distance more and more with everything she said. “I was scared you'd show up with someone else and I wouldn't be able to hold my tongue. That I'd make a fool out of myself. Or if you didn't bring anybody… I guess I was just trying to get your attention.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself go light as if her words had stricken every bone in your body.

“You wanted my attention?”

Nat walked closer, now mere inches away — enough for you to smell her perfume again, enough for you to feel the champagne in her breath.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed. “I wanted you to look at me like you used to. Like he doesn't, like no one else has. I wanted to know you still saw me.”

Your knees shook, hand aching at your side with the need to reach up and touch her.

“Of course I still see you, Nat,” you admitted, figuring there was no more use hiding it, it was all over your face. “You wanted my attention? You have it. You've always had it.”

Natalie finally brought a hand up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips on your cheek making your entire body light up.

“And you've always had mine,” she whispered, eyes darker, lost between your gaze and your lips like she couldn't decide what she'd missed looking at the most. “All these years and we both could've just… said it. Like that. But we've been too busy being stupid.”

You leaned in, lips nearly brushing hers now, sharing the same breath.

“Guess we should stop wasting time, then.”

When Nat kissed you, it wasn't slow. It wasn't hesitant or tame or riddled with doubts that came with years of silence and miscommunication. It was electric. Her lips crashed into yours like she'd been starved, tongue claiming your mouth in a way only she ever could, and you fired back with the same intensity — you just needed her close, her there, you needed to crawl into her skin and never let go, not again. Her hands roamed through your body like no time had passed, still knowing every inch of you and taking advantage of it, warm and possessive and so good you forgot where you were for a moment.

And if Nat hadn't forgotten, it didn't seem like she cared. She pushed you up against the wall behind you, pulling a delicious gasp from your lips before diving in again, right where anybody (including her boyfriend) could walk out and see. You didn't stop her. You wouldn't stop her if the whole party came out to watch. Natalie was touching you, kissing you, and it was so much better than any old memory or dream you'd ever had, because it was real. And it was now. And the intensity with which she did it left no room for doubt that she wanted this — that she'd missed it just as much as you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, forehead against hers, neither of you said anything. Words weren't needed. They'd already failed you once, you weren't about to let it happen again, not now. You could talk later. You'd have all the time in the world for that.

Instead, you just enjoyed it for what it was. A big, wide, gorgeous smile took over Nat's lips, giving you all the answers you needed. Travis was still inside, and you had years of unspoken, complicated feelings to figure out, but it didn't matter. In the end, you were still hers, and she was still yours. Just like that. Like no distance or time or failed shot at a rebound could ever fully erase it.

You smiled back at her, a silent promise that you wouldn't let history repeat itself, that no matter what happened you wouldn't let her go, not anymore.

And then you kissed her again.

[loserlesbiancoded]

i actually love bear with me so much, i love the exes dynamic in jackie fics. keep them coming!! i keep coming back to reread it

i'm so glad you like it anon!! it's actually a personal favorite of mine <3 love love love writing ex jackie and i'm open to requests if you have any

[loserlesbiancoded]

part three of the plan pleeeeeeeaaassssseeeeeeeeee it’s so good

i’ll get on it 😭 i actually started writing a while ago but i was kinda busy at the time so i stopped and lost the inspiration. i’m on vacation now so who knows… maybe i’ll get to it soon

[loserlesbiancoded]

oh my gosh your recent mari ibarra fic is one of the best fics i’ve read in such a long time i need more mari fics pls🥹🥹

thank you <33 loved writing it! i’m open to requests if you have any!

[loserlesbiancoded]

hello, i'm the one who requested the mari fic!! i loved it sm, thank u for posting so fast. the part where she checked her nails while talking about hookups made me laugh :D

thank you anon! ur so kind for saying it was fast 😭 i’m glad you liked it <3

[loserlesbiancoded]

i’m finally on break from college

[loserlesbiancoded]

may I pls request friends to lovers mari? she still says things like "gaywad" but it's a reclaimed slur bc she's wlw!! and when they finally start dating, people are like ?? mari, aren't u a homophobe?

thanks for the request! i kinda took your idea and expanded it a bit, i hope you don't mind. you can find it here! <3

[loserlesbiancoded]

✰ ruin the friendship

✰ pairing: mari ibarra x fem!reader

✰ additional tags/warnings: no crash, college, oblivious reader, friends to lovers, mentions of homophobia, down bad mari, alcohol use, some angst, fluff

✰ word count: 5.8k

✰ summary: mari has a lot of opinions — especially when it comes to your love life —, and you've spent years swallowing comments, convinced she's just another straight girl who doesn't get it. when you finally confront her, you realize that you were the one who had it all wrong. (request here)

The last thing you registered was the loud thud of a body collapsing against yours.

One second you had the ball to your feet, eyes focused forward on the clear path you'd taken eighty-five fucking minutes to find — and the next, poof, it was gone. You'd been clinging to your last drop of determination for this shot, somehow managing to move past the sweat that glued the jersey to your back and the fact that your legs felt like jello at this point, so close you were already celebrating in your mind. The match had been dragged out, difficult for both teams, a frustrating 0-0 draw that left you and your teammates pissed off and exhausted — which apparently also applied to the girls from the other school.

So when you saw the chance, you took it. The fullback missed a pass and you didn't think before stepping in, envisioning the play in your head, knowing you'd finally gotten a real opportunity against the other team. It was going to be the winning shot. You were so sure you had it, for the first time today confident about your odds — then, next thing you knew, your body met the ground as your hands unconsciously reached for your ankle, the sound of your scream drowning out the referee's whistle.

You lay on the grass as the world shook around you, a tear (or maybe a drop of sweat) rolling down your face against your will. The sun was too hot and everyone was talking over each other and you couldn't believe you had missed your fucking shot. To top it all off, your ankle burned, leg slightly bent at the knee in an involuntary attempt to keep it still, your thoughts immediately shifting to desperate wishes of please don't let it be broken, please don't let it be strained, please don't let it be torn.

The first girl to come check on you was Shauna, then came Laura Lee, then Jackie. Soon enough, you were surrounded by blue and yellow, a swarm of Yellowjackets kneeling at your side as Tai brought a steadying hand to your back.

“Are you okay?” She asked, concerned, clearly just as tired and frustrated as you were. “Can you move your foot?”

“I think so,” your voice wavered — half on account of the pain, half because of the tears you tried to hold back. “Fuck…”

You groaned, feeling the sting when you rotated your foot, but at least you could move it. Maybe — hopefully — you'd just need to ice it and call it a day, maybe you'd actually be fine in time for the next game the following week.

“Good. That's good,” Taissa nodded methodically, always calm in a crisis, which you were thankful for. “Coach Scott went to get the—”

“Hey!” The captain of the other team approached the circle around you, face flushed and sweaty, eyes angrily set on Jackie. “Control your players!”

She gestured toward a herd of girls in red jerseys on the other side of the field, one blue and yellow dot sticking out in the middle, the ref repeatedly blowing his whistle like an ill-mannered toddler.

“Oh, Jesus— Mari!” Jackie jumped to her feet with a sigh and an eyeroll, fixing her ponytail as she stormed over to where the mess was. “Take it easy!”

“Fucking asshole!” You could hear Mari scream in the distance, pointing a finger dangerously close to one of the opponent's faces. “That was fucking foul and you know it! Can’t play for shit so what, you had to fucking maim her?!”

You were too overwhelmed to register anything beyond Jackie practically launching herself between Mari and the other girl — she really couldn't afford to get carded again today —, and before you knew it someone was already pulling your cleat off as you got rolled onto a gurney.

Later that day, you sat in the athletic training room, ankle swollen as you held an ice pack to it — thank God it wasn't anything serious, the team doctor had said, you'd probably be cleared to play the next game if the swelling went down within the next two days. While you were still upset about the missed chance right at the end of the match, it could have been a lot worse. So now you sat there alone, silently letting the adrenaline die down as you waited for the next half hour of icing your ankle to be over.

If only someone had thought to bring you your phone, at least you’d have something to do.

You leaned back against the examination table, the sound of footsteps approaching the open door pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey,” Mari entered the room still in uniform, cheeks flushed and hair messy in her ponytail, approaching you with shallow breaths, the previous anger gone from her face. “How bad is it?”

“The doctor said my Achilles is fine,” you said, relieved to finally have someone to talk to, glad it was Mari who came to see you. “Gonna take some pills and ice it and I should be fine in a few days.”

She let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping with instant relief as her hand found your forearm.

“Thank fuck,” she muttered, eyes drifting down to the ice pack on your ankle. “Everyone was shitting their pants when they took you away. Allie actually said she heard a pop when you fell.”

You laughed at the profanities, light, needing the distraction.

“Allie's full of shit,” you retorted, shaking your head slightly, Mari's hand still warm on your arm. “She gets off on the attention. I'm perfectly fine. Just pissed I couldn't get the shot in.”

“Holy shit— right, you still don't know!” She pulled her hand from your arm, which you would have been more upset about if she hadn't immediately stepped closer to the examination table. “Scoot.”

You didn't protest, you wouldn't, not when it was Mari asking — body carefully sliding to the side until your shoulder met the wall. She sat right next to you, squeezing into the tight space, careful not to touch her foot to your injury, one leg hanging off the table to give you more room.

“So,” her upper arm was practically glued to yours, making your heart leap in your chest for reasons that had nothing to do with the post-match high, “the ref carded the girl who tackled you and we got a penalty shot, which Lottie absolutely murdered. Their goalkeeper actually cried out of frustration.”

You let out a surprised laugh, the lingering pain of the injury (thankfully much weaker now) overshadowed by the sweet taste of knowing the Yellowjackets had won. Good. Served the other team right.

“She cried?”

“Full on sobbed like a baby when the ref blew the final whistle,” Mari chuckled with amusement, clearly replaying the moment in her head. “I mean, hold onto your fucking panties, right? It’s not even knockout rounds yet. How embarrassing.”

“Jesus,” you laughed more, tilting your head down for a moment, letting the moment settle between the two of you. And then you nudged her shoulder with your own. “Hey, I saw you go all Mari on the girl who fouled me. Thanks for having my back.”

“Someone had to. That asshole ref was ready to turn a blind eye,” she nudged you back, leaning just a bit more into you, head bumping yours for a split second. “Don’t get used to it, gaywad.”

Your face fell, the smile on your lips dying for a quick moment before you caught yourself, having to force it now.

Because there it was — the thing Mari always did. The one part of her that left a bitter taste in your mouth you couldn’t quite let go of.

The comments. The little names she’d throw here and there like they didn’t mean anything, like she had any right to. The same ones that left you feeling misplaced way back when you used to hang around popular girls in middle school. The fucking gaywads and the jokes and the way she’d always imply you were into every girl you’d ever met.

It was complicated, because deep down you knew Mari wasn’t a bad person. She was your friend, for fuck’s sake, one of the first you made when you got to college — God, she was ready to beat a girl up for you less than an hour ago. Sure, she was loud and abrasive and her temper was way too short, but she wasn’t bigoted. She hung out with you, and she’d once drunkenly admitted she considered Van her sister, joking about wanting to be a bridesmaid at her and Tai’s wedding.

Still, the comments hurt you somewhere specific. You’d been around plenty of girls who acted like your friends and ridiculed you for your sexuality the first chance they got. Maybe Mari didn’t mean any harm, it didn’t make sense for her to do so, but that’s what you thought all those times before, too. And every time she said something it got a little bit harder to ignore.

Well, it’s not like you were actually going to say anything, though. You didn’t want to be the person who was always policing her language. You tried convincing yourself she didn’t mean any of it — it was all a reflection of her small town, of not having examples at home, of hanging out with girls just like her her entire life, right? You didn’t want to be the sensitive one, the one that took everything to heart. Still, every time she said it, it landed somewhere in your chest and it stayed there. You laughed it off, you let it go and changed the subject, but you noticed.

In hindsight, it probably served you right — that’s what you got for falling for a straight girl. You’d sworn to yourself over and over that you’d never do it, that you were stronger than that, that you could control it if you set your mind to it. And then you went and fell in love with Mari Ibarra.

In your defense, how could you not? Mari was funny, loyal, gorgeous in a way that left you bare and disarmed every time she smiled. Passionate about the things she liked and the people she loved. Quick witted and honest to a fault and so fucking hot you felt like you’d burn if you got too close sometimes. You didn’t even have time to fight it — it hit you like a stack of bricks, all at once, merciless and painful, while all you could do was accept your fate and let yourself be crushed.

So, once again, you swallowed it. You looked past it and let the moment pass.

A few weeks later, you found yourself sitting on Mari’s bed, cross-legged as you tapped your fingertips against your knee and watched her pace around the dorm with two dresses in her hands.

“It’s a frat party, Mar,” you let out a snort, she’d been debating what to wear for way too long for it to be acceptable. “Not Paris Fashion Week.”

“Doesn’t mean I should look ugly, though,” she stepped in front of the mirror, holding both dresses in front of her body as she carefully analyzed each one. “The red one’s cute. I mean, it goes with my skin tone, it’s sexy but not slutty, it’s got the whole… cleavage thing going on. And I guess the black one’s good too.”

“Just go with the red,” you leaned back against the bed, tired, knowing you’d set yourself up when you agreed to help her pick an outfit for tonight. “You clearly like it better anyway.”

“Yeah, but I’m asking which one you like,” she looked at your reflection impatiently, like it was obvious she wanted validation. “You are here to help, aren’t you?”

“Any more helping and we won’t make it to the party,” you groaned, hands coming up to your eyelids in dramatic exaggeration. “They’ll be cleaning up the place by the time we get there.”

“Ugh, you’re no help,” she rolled her eyes, moving over to where you lay, letting her body flop next to yours onto the mattress. “What’s with the rush, anyway? All of a sudden you’re excited about going?”

You pulled your hands from your eyes, ignoring the warmth of her skin so close to yours, sitting up.

“I was never not excited. I just wasn’t as into it as you.”

“You sure seem into it now,” Mari propped herself up on her elbows, watching you with a curious head tilt, a smirk popping on her lips. “Alright, spill. Is there a girl or something? Is that what this is about?”

You didn’t even flinch at this point anymore, Mari always found an excuse to ask that before a party. The ritual was just as familiar as it was torturous by now — she’d bug you for days over some party Nat told her about, ask you to help her choose an outfit, start talking about hookups and who you were interested in like she wasn’t the same girl that confused the hell out of you with friendly gestures followed by hurtful names.

You really couldn’t tell what her angle was here. What, just because you were a lesbian she went and assumed you were constantly pining over some girl? (You were, over her, but that was beside the point!) Or maybe it was all just Mari being nosy. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know what to think.

You sighed, feigning impatience, looking back at her.

“There’s no girl. I’m just tired of looking at dresses.”

“Huh,” Mari studied your face for a moment like that’d magically pull information out of you, jerking her head forward. “So you’re not gonna hook up with anybody tonight?”

“I don’t know, Mar,” you shook your head, ready for this conversation to be over and done. “I’m not really planning to.”

She nodded lightly, pouting for a moment, eyes turning away from yours as she absently checked her nails.

“Okay.”

Somehow that was even worse than the prying. You sat back for a second, turning your head, wondering if that tiny okay meant she was silently judging you in her head for your sexuality or something just as bad.

And then, just because you couldn’t help yourself:

“Why,” you muttered in the most casual tone you could, “are you?”

Mari let out a scoff, rolling her eyes, sitting up in bed.

“As if. These parties are full of losers and creeps. I’m probably just gonna get fucked up and try to bump Nat’s weed or something.”

You should’ve known. For a girl as incredibly beautiful as Mari, her love life just never seemed that interesting. You’d never seen her actually get with anyone at parties, and it wasn’t like people didn’t try — she was constantly the center of attention, attracting a crowd of big and buff frat guys wherever she went, but she never seemed to pay them any mind. Her standards must have been unbelievably high, you thought, she must’ve not thought anyone there was really worthy of her time.

They probably weren’t.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you chuckled, still on the tough quest to act natural. “You’ve been fussing over which dress to wear for forty minutes.”

“Yeah, because I wanna look hot,” she shrugged, stepping to her feet, walking over to the desk where she’d lay both dresses. “And you still haven’t helped me. Come on. Red or black?”

You sighed, knowing Mari wouldn’t let up until you finally chose — she never did.

“Red,” you leaned your head down a bit, playful, having no choice but to smirk at her petulance, “obviously.”

Mari’s lips curled into a dizzying smile as she tossed the black dress aside, pulling the red one closer to her body.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She looked at herself in the mirror one more time before dropping the dress on the chair, hands moving to the hem of her t-shirt — your cue to stare at your phone screen like it was the most interesting thing in the world for the next minute.

You scrolled through your apps for a while, not really registering the words on the screen as all you could pay attention to was the sound of rustling fabric in the background. Her t-shirt hitting the ground, her shorts’ zipper being pulled down. The creak of the chair when she reached for the dress. The soft gasp as she tripped over it.

And then, Mari’s voice, low and cruel as she turned toward you:

“Zip me up?”

You got up from her bed because it’d be weirder if you didn’t, still careful not to do it too fast or too eagerly — because that might make things even more awkward. You walked in her direction (not too slow, not too quick), almost forgetting how to do it for a second, stopping as you finally got close enough.

You had one goal: touching as little skin as you possibly could. Mari was already driving you crazy with the jokes and the names, you didn’t need her thinking (knowing) you were down this bad.

So you grabbed the zipper, and the zipper only. You pinched your fingers around it in a way that was almost surgical — and, if you were honest, absolutely ridiculous, but that would have to do.

“You have so much hair,” you muttered, frustrated that her long, luscious, coconut shampooed hair kept getting in your way.

Instead of bringing a hand up and pulling it away herself — and probably on a personal quest to make you lose your fucking mind —, Mari simply shrugged, eyes set on your reflection in the mirror.

“So? Just pull it away.”

Your knees shook. Your heart was beating so fast at this point you were afraid she was going to call you out.

Get a fucking grip, you told yourself, feeling pathetic about the way Mari managed to completely dismantle you with the mere thought of her skin brushing your hand for two seconds, but you couldn’t help it. It was her back, bare aside from the thin bra that went around it, so close you could count exactly how many breaths she took while you stood there.

Don’t shake, don’t shake, don’t shake, you repeated multiple times in your head, reaching for her hair before things got weird, fingertips lightly brushing the back of her neck as you pushed it over her shoulder. You didn’t dare look at Mari’s face in the mirror, figuring you’d just do what she asked, not wanting to give her any ammo for possible assumptions. Once her hair was out of the way — which only created another problem, because now her back was completely exposed and you could actually see a hint of lace just below the small of it —, you gulped, focused on the task of pulling that damn zipper up.

When you were finally, finally done with it, you took a polite step back, breath steadying when Mari turned around with a smile like she hadn’t been able to read into your quiet frustration.

“So,” she posed, placing a hand on her hip, looking down at her own body and then up at you, “do I look hot or what?”

You cleared your throat discreetly, forcing a chuckle, seeking solace in your jacket’s pockets.

“You look great, loser,” you used the last drop of nonchalance you had in your body in order to make that sound right. “Now can we go?”

“Yes, yes, let’s go.”

Mari grabbed her purse from the corner of the bed, thankfully already packed with everything she needed — her key card and a watermelon vape —, nudging your elbow as she walked past you.

“I knew you’d like the red one, gaywad.”

You followed Mari out of the dorm in silence, nodding absently as she kept talking about how great tonight was going to be, her words replaying in your head the whole walk to the frat house.

What the hell did she mean by that?

The fucking gaywad again, and now she was saying she knew you’d like her dress? Had she noticed something? Did she see the way your hands trembled or your eyes fell on her underwear for that goddamn second?

God, was she going to think of you as a pervert now?

The worst was how normal she still seemed after, talking a mile a minute as you walked, bringing the vape to your lips so you’d take a hit. What did she want from you? Did she pity you? Was she just waiting for an opportunity to bring it up and completely humiliate you in front of the team?

You decided against dwelling, it was just Mari being Mari, it’s what she did. You weren’t going to worry about it tonight. Tonight was about getting fucked up, having fun with your friends, and hey, maybe you’d actually give the whole hooking up with someone thing a shot, if only you weren’t so busy thinking about—

“Fucking Mari,” you muttered as your back met the kitchen wall, already nursing your third drink at this point, looking at a sympathetic Van while Mari danced with her friends in the other room. “I lost track of how many shots she’s taken. And I’m pretty sure she’s gonna find a way to make that my problem.”

“Lighten up,” Van took a sip of her beer, annoyingly collected. “She’s Mari. She’s just having fun.”

“You’re not the one who’s gonna have to carry her all the way back to the dorm,” you rolled your eyes, used to this dance by now. “She’s heavier than she looks, you know.”

“Yeah,” Van walked past you, raising her beer bottle once she spotted Tai across the room, stopping right by your shoulder to whisper. “Because you hate that.”

The implication made you panic a little. So Van noticed. And if Van noticed, then it wouldn’t be such a stretch to assume Mari did too, maybe that’s why she kept making comments — to subtly hint that she was aware and uninterested.

You stood there frozen for a moment, Mari’s words when you left her dorm earlier still echoing in your head even though you’d promised yourself they wouldn’t, not tonight, but it was pointless. The damage was done. And the alcohol in your system was only making it worse.

When the music got too loud and you started to feel like you were annoyed at everybody, you stepped outside. You wanted to leave. To call it a night and sulk in bed, alone, away from prying eyes and judgy best friends. Away from brown hair that smelled like coconuts and brown eyes that crinkled every time you made her smile.

But you couldn’t leave. Mari was drinking a little too much and, well, she wasn’t the one who made it your problem. You were. You’d hang around for as long as she wanted to stay even if it killed you — you just had to make sure she got back safely at the end of the night.

So you sat on the back porch, feet dangling, crossing your arms over the banister — and that’s where you stayed, waiting for the feeling to pass.

“Hey, I was looking for you!” Mari showed up out of nowhere, giggly and radiant, followed by the sound of clacking heels and the smell of watermelon smoke. “You totally disappeared on me!”

You turned your body just enough to catch sight of her face, smiling softly once you noticed the obvious drunkenness there, not that you had to look for it.

“Hey, Mar. Just getting some air.”

She gripped the banister tightly, knuckles turning white as she ungraciously contorted enough to fit into the space next to you.

“You’re missing out on the fun,” she nudged you with her knee once she managed to settle, a bit too strong for your taste, proof of the alcohol clouding her perception. “Everyone’s being extra tonight.”

You let out a soft chuckle.

“Everyone?”

Mari nodded exaggeratedly, that smile still on her lips, shoulder bumping yours in the process.

“Yup,” she confirmed, popping the ‘p’. “Allie’s making out way too intensely with a guy from my econ seminar and Nat’s threatening to beat someone up and don’t even get me started on Jackie and Shauna.”

You couldn't help the smile, small but there, scrunching your nose as Mari's vape smoke flew into your face.

“What about them?”

“Ugh,” she groaned, leaning further into your arm, drunk and heavy. “They're so obvious. Everyone knows they wanna hook up! Jackie says she doesn't wanna ruin the friendship, but I mean… what's the point if they're just gonna keep staring at each other like idiots all night?”

You shrugged, not unfamiliar to the drama surrounding those two.

“Maybe Jackie's right. They're good friends,” they were, you didn't think you’d ever seen one without the other, so you got exactly where Jackie came from. “Wouldn't wanna mess with that.”

Mari sighed, not exactly impatient — just a bit frustrated, maybe, like she'd spent long enough gossiping about your teammates’ situation to form a solid opinion on it.

“I think it's dumb,” she muttered, eyes dropping to her knees. “If it's mutual, if they both want it… I mean, just go for it. Ruin the fucking friendship. Stop overthinking and do something about it.”

“I don't know,” you took a sip of whatever you had left in your cup, pushing it aside. “I think it's more complicated than that.”

“It's as easy as it could possibly be. They obviously want it but they're both too chicken to make the first move,” Mari took a hit from her vape, resting it between her thigh and her palm once she was done, holding the smoke in for a second before blowing it up in the air. “Unless Jackie read it all wrong and Shauna doesn't want her like that.”

You let out a genuine chuckle, because that was the most ridiculous thing you'd ever heard in your life. You'd seen the way Shauna looked at Jackie from across the soccer field, the way she lit up when Jackie laughed at her jokes, the way she stepped up to defend her whenever somebody did so much as hint that she wasn't that good a captain. It was obvious, painfully so, anybody could spot it from miles away.

“Shauna wants her.”

“So she should get out of her head and do something,” Mari turned her attention to you, shifting so she now lay her head on her crossed arms over the banister. “Maybe Jackie's getting tired of waiting.”

You frowned, confused, figuring that was just drunk Mari not making any sense.

“You just said Jackie doesn't wanna ruin the friendship. Why's Shauna the one getting dragged now?”

She sighed, more exasperated this time, face sinking into her forearms.

“I don't know. They should just stop being such lezzies and work their shit out already.”

You felt a pang in your chest at her words. Again with the slurs, with the name calling, with the inappropriate terms she didn't get to use. Again with the fucking slip that had happened so many times by now it couldn't be considered a slip anymore.

Lezzies, was she being serious? God, it made you want to smash your head into a wall. You didn't know what to think anymore. You'd heard the word so many times in your life, ugly and hurtful and used against you, that even if Mari didn't mean anything by it — which you honestly couldn't tell if she did at this point —, it still stung. Hard. And you were too drunk not to say anything about it this time.

“God, Mari,” you huffed, impatient, shaking your head in clear disappointment. “You can't say that.”

She lifted her face, eyes turning to you with that drunk glint in them, confused.

“What?”

“The fucking— that,” you clarified, cheeks already burning because you hated to be the one who called others out, but enough was enough. “Do you have a problem with me?”

“A problem with… you?”

“With my sexuality,” you doubled down, not backing up, figuring you might as well finally settle the thing that had been gnawing at you for God knows how long. “Do you have a problem with the fact that I'm a lesbian?”

“What?!” Mari pulled back, straightening her body as well as she could given her state, visibly surprised. “Y/N, why would I have a problem with—”

“The comments,” you interrupted her, maybe a bit too bold now that you'd started. “The— the gaywads and the teasing and now the fucking lezzies… I mean, you're my friend, but you can't… you can't do that! You can't say that!”

“I can't… wait, why?” Mari looked shocked and taken aback, like she was genuinely trying to understand where you came from. “Did I say something to upset you?”

You huffed in frustration, looking at the ceiling above you before landing your gaze on her face.

“You're straight, Mari,” you laid it out, hoping she'd get it this time, not knowing how else to phrase it. “You can't say those things, it's offensive.”

Mari paused like you’d been speaking a different language. She stared at your face for a second, then two, blinking slowly, the gears turning in her head in a way you’d only ever seen that time you two did calc homework together.

Her eyes went wide.

“…Oh.”

You didn’t say anything, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt before throwing accusations. Maybe she’d apologize. Maybe she’d tell you it wouldn’t happen again and you could finally sweep it all under the rug.

But, to your surprise, Mari just let out a fucking laugh. Breathy, startled, taking up her whole face.

“You… clueless idiot,” she said, amused, staring at your dumbfounded expression like she’d finally understood something.

You frowned. Was she really laughing? After you went and poured your heart out like that? Was that going to be her strategy?

“Mari,” you complained, already past the disappointment — now starting to get a little pissed. “Are you serious? I tell you you're acting homophobic and all you do is—”

“I’m not straight, genius!” She laughed more, leaning forward like you'd told her the funniest joke in the world, a warm hand meeting your knee. “Where’d you get that idea?”

You froze. Your expression matched the one on Mari's face just seconds ago, confused, perplexed. Trying to make sense of what she said as if she were an alien. The words echoing in your head once, twice, twenty times until you finally let them sink in.

Mari… wasn't straight?

“You're… you're not?”

“No, you idiot,” she nudged your knee softly, not removing her hand, a fond smile now present on her lips. “Why would you even assume that?”

“Well—” You didn't even know where to start, too stunned to put a coherent thought together. “You're just so— and you wear— and I've never seen you with—”

Her smile widened like she took pleasure in watching you squirm.

“What, I'm girly? And I wear dresses?” She let out a snort. “That's what straight means to you?”

“You…” Your frown deepened. “You kept calling me gaywad.”

“Yeah, because I'm gay. I can say it,” she chuckled, apparently having the time of her life, dismantling your defenses by the second. “ That was me flirting with you, stupid.”

Your heart stopped for a second.

All of a sudden, nothing else seemed to exist anymore. The drunk idiots around you disappeared, the smell of watermelon smoke and cheap beer didn't reach your nose, the music inside became so muffled you couldn't tell whether it was still playing. The world narrowed down to the girl beside you, smiling, touching your knee like she'd seen you all along and you'd simply been too stupid to notice.

It hit you like a brick. The touching, the teasing, the gaywads and the billion questions about other girls, and now you couldn't unsee it. Oh my God. Mari wanted you. She actually wanted you, and if you'd only taken two seconds to get out of your own head and stop moping, maybe you would have seen it sooner.

“...You were flirting with me.”

“Yeah, no shit,” She leaned closer, bumping your shoulder with hers, watching you expectantly. “And apparently I was bad enough at it to make you think that you were getting hate crimed.”

Your own lips curved in a smile, small and cautious, like you were still half expecting there to be a catch somewhere. You breathed out softly, slowly, letting the coin drop in real time as Mari's eyes stayed glued to your face.

“I'm so stupid.”

Mari laughed, bright and beautiful, squeezing your knee a bit more deliberately now — at least you thought so.

“I'd disagree, but… you’re kinda making it hard for me to defend you there.” Mari's laugh faded slowly, giving space to something softer, quieter, your whole body buzzing as she nervously bit her bottom lip. “So? Do you have… anything to say about that?”

And you did. You had a whole book of things to say, a thousand thoughts you'd kept to yourself for years now, thinking you'd never be reciprocated. You could tell Mari about all the times your heart raced when she flew into your arms after scoring a goal, or how you always pretended to take way longer than you needed to get ready just so you could walk out of the locker room together. You could tell her about how nervous you'd been in her room earlier, or all the times you'd woken up in the middle of the night mourning the relationship you'd had in your dream, wishing it could be real.

There was so much you could say, so many things, but you'd already wasted too much time. And now, with her right in front of you, saying all the words you'd wanted to hear since the day you met her, you figured you'd finally act.

So you smiled, big and wide and unguarded, and you closed the distance between the two of you with a kiss.

Mari's lips were soft, and they were sweet, and they were addictive in a way that left you hypnotized like you'd just been exposed to the drug you'd spend the rest of your life not knowing how to quit. Soon enough, the two of you were full on making out on the back porch, not caring who was around, finally chasing the thing you'd been deprived of for so long.

You must have been at it for a while when a familiar voice interrupted you, forcing you apart for a quick moment, Mari's hands falling to your shoulders as she leaned against you.

“Mari?” Shauna asked, a frown on her face as she watched the two of you with nothing but confusion. “Weren't you, like, homophobic?”

Mari rolled her eyes, smiling radiantly, hands moving up to grab your face as she pulled you closer.

“Shut up, gaywad.”

And then she kissed you again.

[loserlesbiancoded]

Even nat is Brazilian

nat’s a rio girl. it’s canon in my head

[loserlesbiancoded]

gang hypothetically how would we feel about a jackieshauna x reader fic with a messy dynamic and lots of resentment

[loserlesbiancoded]

I hate that Argentina is still in. they’re cheaters they’re basically paying their way to the finals

how it feels to be brazilian trying not to get my hopes up in 2026

[loserlesbiancoded]

fuck my life

[loserlesbiancoded]

I hate that Argentina is still in. they’re cheaters they’re basically paying their way to the finals

how it feels to be brazilian trying not to get my hopes up in 2026

[loserlesbiancoded]

ARGENTINA HATE LETS GOOO

no shade but i AM brazilian so i do have strong opinions like… (im sure my hermano moots are great though its not your fault!)

[loserlesbiancoded]

soapy knows what’s up 🇨🇻🇨🇻🇨🇻 let’s fucking go fuck this ref!!!