they meet at the gym.
not his scene anymore, not really — not since the injury, not since everything changed. But he's there anyway, lingering near the squat rack like a ghost of who he used to be.
you walk in, earbuds in, all steady breath and focused eyes. you're the kind of girl who doesn’t slow down for anyone. except today.
today, you notice him.
he’s watching — not creepily, not with arrogance, but with this... quiet, aching kind of gaze. like he knows every move you're about to make because he used to do it too.
you catch his eye between sets. he looks away first.
later, you see him wrap his knee in a brace. There's a softness in his frustration, something you understand — that language of limits, of pushing through anyway.
you offer him your towel. a nod. a half-smile.
he laughs under his breath. “You’re the real athlete now.”
you just shrug. “Once an athlete, always an athlete.”
you don’t flirt. not yet.
you compete — quietly, respectfully. who can hold their plank longer. who finishes first on the treadmill.
he starts showing up more often.
you never ask what happened.
and he never tells.
but in the silence between reps, the understanding grows.
pairing: lucas sinclair x male!volleyball player!reader
requested: [yes] no
requested by: @legacy-esta2
warnings: angst. mentions of homophobia. fluff. no use of y/n(surprisingly).
You had a game coming up which you had been oooking forward to for weeks. You obviously told everyone you knew, including your boyfriend.
You were bold enough to be open with your sexuality and who you loved despite the fact that many people in town now hated you for that.
Lucas could relate to your excitement about sports since he was on the basketball team and you attended all of his games. And you mean every single one of them.
They meant so much to him so of course you’d go. However, recently you noticed he got back into hellfire and while you were supportive he was spending majority of his time between basketball and that
You didn’t say anything, why should you? It wasn’t your business and didn’t bother you. Until now.
“Where is he? You murmur as you scan the crowd before your game. Your parents and friends were there, the ones that didn’t play hellfire anyway.
You never were too close with Lucas’ friends but were friends and you thought they’d come too alongside Lucas.
You couldn’t focus for long because you had to do your game. It took place as usual and once you were finished you stood outside.
Your Mom was busy talking and you didn't want to wait and you regretted not staying with her because you saw Lucas and his friends exit a door from the school.
And when he made eye contact with you, He knew he was screwed from the panic on his face.
He calls your name as he approaches you. You turn away. “I’m sorry.. I forgot.. he says nervously but you know he’s being truthful.
“What the hell, Lucas? You say turning around.”I never forgot a single game of yours and you go to the Hellfire with the guys who actually forgot your games and don’t even enjoy them!”
“What the fuck? Lucas replies.”that was a mistake and forgetting it was a mistake. Listen I won’t do it anymore.”
“I don’t know if I can trust you, You reply, seeing your mom and walk beside her sadly. Lucas’ friends also look sad as you leave.
You weren’t sure on how to feel.
A few days went by, almost a week and Lucas kept attempting to speak with you. You so badly wanted to accept but knew you couldn’t. Not yet anyways.
You tried to think it over when Lucas climbed through your window. You tried holding in a laugh but couldn’t.”Lucas what are you doing here?”
“To apologize, He says.”I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I promise I won’t do it again. So I did make sure to write down your schedule to find out when your games are.”
You smile, sitting up and hugging him.”I forgive you, especially putting in effort.” He smiles back.”So we’re cool?”
Eddie didn’t know there were people who didn’t go to lunch, just to go outside and play volleyball until he left early from lunch one day, deciding to skip the rest of the day.
He went outside and just saw some girls with their arms together hitting a ball up just for another girl to get it.
He was intrigued.
He saw one girl just absolutely killing it, going after every ball and evening diving on the ground for it, causing her pants to get dirty.
When she was getting up, she looked over to see him just looking at them playing. While she was wiping herself off she asked him if he wanted to play.
“I don’t really know how to, wouldn’t want to mess you guys up.” Studying your beauty and how you didn’t care you were messy.
“Everyone over here is equally bad, you wouldn’t make a big difference. Plus, I can teach you the basics real quick, in case you ever want to play again.” He loved that you offered to let him play and even teach him. He could tell the girls you were playing with didn’t like that thought because some of their faces were scrunching up in disgust.
You heard one of the girls mutter something and you turned and looked at the girl and told her if she didn’t like it, she can leave. In quote, “This is my ball, I own it. So, I choose who can play and can’t. You have a problem with it, just leave.” He thought it was nice you stood up for something so minor to him. The girl just sighed and continued standing there.
“Thank you for that,” Eddie said to you.
“No problem, I don’t like judgement during a game. Especially if you hate one of the people you are playing with.” He looked at you and realized how beautiful your eyes are and how the compliment everything about you. He also noticed your hair was up, but he just craved to see it put down and see how it looks flowing in the wind. Wondering if you have naturally straight or curly hair.
“You know if you just want to stare you can, but I think you will have a great time playing.” You snapped him out of his trance.
“I think I would prefer to get your name and number, but this will do. And I will gladly stare at you as long as I want.” Eddie said in such a smug tone with a smile tugging at his lips.
“How about I teach you how to play right now, and after. Right before we go to out next class, I’ll right that all down for you.” You proposed. Eddie nodded and you went over to him and showed him how his arms should be positioned too properly bump the ball.
And every time the ball would threaten to go over his head, he would never hit it with his hand. No, of course not. He head bumped it right to you and sometimes low so you would have to dive or maybe bend or lean forward so he can get a view at your ass.
He learned you were on the volleyball team and didn’t have a car so he would offer to pick you up every day.
He said he would go to some of your games if you went to Hellfire meetings.
And when you would get bored over at his place, you would beg him to play volleyball outside with you.
Uncle Wayne was so happy to see him outside and doing something with someone that made him happy.
You always tell Eddie he is a natural pro, and he is so much better than you.
Here it is! (Finally!) Sorry it took me so long to get out! I used to play volleyball myself, granted that was in middle school, which was ages ago. I had to research some stuff as a refresher lol! With that said, please forgive me if I got any terminology or rules wrong! Also, sorry for the un-original name, I literally couldn’t think of anything else 😂😂
Word Count: 960
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Tags: Athletic!Reader, Volleyball, Very slight fluff
(Gif not mine)
Dean was nervous. He knew you must have been at least ten times as nervous as he was, considering you were the one actually playing the game. Still, he couldn't help it. Sam sat next to him in the bleachers watching the court just as intently as he was, and looking just as anxious as Dean felt. Wringing his hands, Sam tapped his foot against the bleacher floor. When the two boys had initially stepped into the large, well-lit room, Dean was immediately stricken by how much the space reminded him of a high school gymnasium. The polished floors were the standard dark beige, with a light blue color outside of the court's white lines to signify the spaces that were out of bounds. Dean glanced at the scoreboard. It was a close game. Closer than any he had ever seen you play. It was the fifth set of the game. The last set. Both your team and the opposing team had each won two. If your team won this set, it would push you to nationals, something Dean knew you had been dreaming of since you made a professional team. The score was tied 14 to 14 - one more point to a win. Even from this distance away, Dean could see you sweating under the fluorescent lights on the court below him. You were in the back of the court with your other two teammates, which made him more nervous for you still. Your volleyball skills were impressive all around, but he was convinced that it was your killer spike that had carried the team so far. If you were in the back, there were far fewer opportunities for you to spike the ball back. Dean wiped his damp forehead with the back of his hand. Sam clapped him on the shoulder.
"Relax," he reassured, giving his brother a smile that seemed slightly strained. "She's got this." Dean let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and nodded.
"She's got this," he repeated, more to himself than anything. The crowd around the two boys fell completely silent as the opposing team's server sent the ball over the net to your side of the court. One of your teammates closest to the net set the ball back over. Dean felt his heart rate quicken. This was it. Regardless of what happened, someone was going to win the game within the next minute or so. The ball traveled back and forth over the net as the boys watched apprehensively along with the rest of the crowd. A member of the opposing team leaped impressively into the air and spiked the ball downwards behind the first row of your teammates. Time seemed to roll into slow motion as the ball headed for the ground. From the back of the court, you dove forward, arms outstretched. A loud thump resounded throughout the large room as you landed on the floor ribs-first. The ball hit your two hands, which were clasped together, and sailed back over to the opposing team's side. For a split second, Dean's heart almost stopped beating. The ball was dangerously close to the boundary line. If it went outside of the court, that was it. It would all be over. One of the players on the other team sprinted in the direction of the ball, but she was too late. It bounced to the floor directly on top of the white boundary line. Complete silence engulfed the room for what seemed like an eternity before the referee's whistle blew. The ball was in. Your team had won the game. The crowd around the two Winchesters immediately erupted into cheers, the team's family members raced onto the court happily. Dean took the bleachers two at a time, rushing down to your side. You were still on the floor, looking winded, but relieved. He held out a hand to help you up, which you took, and pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you around. "You did it!" he yelled proudly over the cheers of the rest of the room. "Y/N, you fucking did it! That was amazing!" You took in a sharp breath as Dean spun you.
"Dean, my ribs," you choked out. He instantly put you down, looking down into your face with concern.
"Are you okay?" he demanded. "Do we need to take you to a doctor or something?" You laughed, rubbing a hand along your sore torso.
"No, no," you reassured him. "I'll be fine. Probably just bruised them. Isn't the first time it's happened, definitely won't be the last." Dean pressed a kiss to your lips, hugging you again, more gently this time.
"Well, then we'd better get you some ice so it can start to heal because you're going to nationals!" Sam rushed up behind his brother, grinning broadly.
"Y/N, that was incredible!" he called out over the rest of your cheering teammates. "Congratulations!" You beamed up at him, still holding a hand to your ribs.
"Thanks, Sam," you replied happily. Dean wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing the top of your head.
"All right killer, let's grab your things and get out of here so we can get some ice on those ribs, huh?"
"Dean, we can't leave like right this second," you laughed. "I still have to talk to my coach and my teammates." He sighed in mock disappointment.
"All right, all right. Sam and I'll go get the car." You stood on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek before turning around and jogging over to the rest of your team.
"Awesome," Sam mused as he stared up at the scoreboard, still grinning. Dean grinned proudly as he watched your teammates hug you and ruffle your hair.
"She sure is."
Again, thanks to @alexwinchester23 for submitting a request! I feel like people forget my requests are open lol. With that in mind, I’d be happy to give any request you give me a try, but I reserve the right to say no if for some reason I can’t do it. (Although that’s a last resort because I love to write requests!)
If you liked this, give me feedback! I love hearing from you guys and I promise I don’t bite!
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🏃♀️ athletic!reader who wakes up before sunrise to run when the world is still quiet, headphones in, sneakers tied tight, breath steady
🏃♀️ athletic!reader who’s competitive, but never cruel. Who celebrates others’ wins like her own, but trains harder the next day. Who believes in discipline over talent and effort over excuses.
🏃♀️ athletic!reader who cries at the gym, wipes her face with her sleeve and finishes her reps anyway
🏃♀️ athletic!reader who teaches you how to pace yourself — in life, in love, in healing. Who encourages you to keep going, one step at a time "Just one more round," she says, but she means: don’t give up yet.
🏃♀️ athletic!reader who was the best in every domain in high school — sports, grades, leadership, all of it. Not because she was trying to prove something, but because she didn’t know how not to give her all.
🏃♀️ athletic!reader who wears old team hoodies, hair always in a ponytail or messy bun, and a water bottle always within reach. Her skin smells like sun and salt — like early morning jogs by the water, sun-warmed pavement.
