she’s a social media influencer in Toronto. her and ernie have done a few interviews and stuff together & are secretly dating (friends know, just not fans) with their fans shipping them
she’s invited to throw out the first pitch at the game & ernie catches it
your phone is glowing on the nightstand, screen buzzing over and over, pale light catching on the rumpled white sheets twisted around your ankle. you’re lying on your stomach, cheek pressed to the pillow that smells like detergent and a little like him—like the warmth of skin and the crisp tang of last night’s cologne. your finger scrolls through tiktok, the sound off but the captions rolling by in frantic all-caps: “so are they or aren’t they??” “ernie clement did NOT just drop the fire emojis under her thirst trap.” “i’m so here for this ship.”
you press your face harder into the pillow to stifle the laugh bubbling in your chest, because the bed dips behind you and you feel his hand flatten between your shoulder blades. his palm is dry and warm, trailing slow down your spine until his thumb hooks in the waistband of your sleep shorts. he’s not even awake awake yet—you can tell by the way he hums, low and scratchy, before clearing his throat and mumbling something you can’t quite catch. the beard scrapes lightly along your shoulder when he shifts closer.
you lift your phone just enough for him to see. “congratulations,” you say, voice still raspy with sleep, “you broke the internet.”
he squints at the screen, icy blue eyes bleary, hair sticking up in chaotic angles that make you want to smooth it down. he huffs out a little laugh, the exhale warm against your bare skin. “they’re gonna figure it out eventually.”
you snort. “they’ve basically figured it out.” your thumb hovers over the comments. “look at this one—‘if they’re not dating i’m deleting this app.’”
ernie leans in to read it, his beard brushing your neck so you shiver. he kisses the spot absently. “tell them not to delete it. your engagement numbers would drop.”
you elbow him lightly, and he finally laughs for real, husky and sleepy, before tugging you onto your side so he can bury his face against your collarbone. you can feel the smile against your skin. your phone buzzes between you, the screen lighting up with another tiktok notification. he groans. “put that thing away.”
“you’re the one who commented the fire emojis.”
“yeah,” he mutters, pressing another kiss into the hollow of your throat, voice going rough and muffled, “’cause you looked good.”
—
by the time you’re at the stadium the sun is high and relentless, glaring off the glass of the dome and baking the sidewalk until the air feels like it’s shimmering. you have your hair pulled back tight, makeup set to withstand anything, and your nerves crawling up your spine in little pricks of static. your name is on the big board. your name, in lights. you take a slow breath, the scent of freshly mown grass and hot concrete and popcorn drifting around you as you try to look nonchalant.
ernie meets you at the tunnel, already in uniform—white pants, blue jersey, the logo snug across his broad chest. the cap shadows his eyes but when he tilts his head back to look at you, they’re bright, that frosty blue that makes you want to kiss him stupid. you see the twitch of his mouth like he’s trying not to grin.
“you look—”
“don’t say it,” you cut in, shooting him a look. “if you say ‘nervous’ i’m gonna smack you.”
he just shrugs, easy. “was gonna say gorgeous, sweetheart, but alright.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re biting back a smile.
“you ready?” he asks, voice low. you can hear the murmur of the crowd, the call-and-response of vendors, the crackle of the announcer’s voice over the PA.
“as i’ll ever be.”
he nudges your arm. “you’re gonna be fine. just throw it.”
“wow. amazing advice.”
“that’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
you snort, but your fingers brush his as you walk out toward the field. the grass is so green it almost hurts to look at it, cut short and sharp, the dirt of the mound dry and powdery under your sneakers. you hear the hush of the crowd, the growing wave of noise as they see you.
you inhale. slow. your heart hammering against your ribs.
ernie crouches behind the plate, glove out, cap low, eyes on you like there’s nobody else in the whole damn place. he gives you the tiniest nod. your fingers tighten on the ball.
you wind up. let it go. it’s not perfect—wobbles a bit, but it makes it to him. the sound of leather smacking leather echoes and he holds it up triumphantly, the crowd cheering.
he straightens, grin spreading wide enough you can see it all the way from the mound. and then he’s jogging up to you.
the stadium noise swells, like a held breath.
you’re smiling so hard it hurts your face when he reaches you. he curls a hand around your waist, careful but firm, sweaty glove discarded, and leans in.
the kiss is quick, but sure. lips brushing warm and solid over yours. the roar of the crowd goes sharp and delighted, a collective whoop and scattered applause.
when you break away, his beard tickles your cheek and you realize you’re on the jumbotron. you can see it in your periphery—the two of you framed against the bright summer sky, the little smudge of his thumbprint on your chin from where he cupped your face.
you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear, “we’re so busted.”
ernie snorts, eyes crinkling at the corners, the tiniest flush climbing his neck. “you think they didn’t know?”
you breathe out a laugh, tucking your head against his chest for a second, letting the noise of the stadium wash over you. the scent of dirt and grass and his laundry soap clings to him, warm and steady.
and when you finally turn and wave at the crowd, he lingers just behind you, his hand pressed light to your lower back, grounding you while your heart tries to beat out of your chest.
here’s a list of things i'm either currently writing, plan on writing, or just ideas. crossed out means being editing and to be posted in the next few days. please be patient and know i have school, and have other things to do. thank you :)
standalone fics,
✷ tutor girl (quinn hughes) - quinn's struggling in one of his classes, so he finds a tutor. (part of "the hughes gang" series.)
✷ untitled (jeremy swayman) - jeremy runs the boston marathon, and along the way, his favorite cheerleaders are there for cheer him on. (part of the "swinging with the swaymans" series.)
✷ untitled (sidney crosby) - although not everyone is a sidney crosby fan, everyone is a y/n crosby fan. (part of "the crosby clan" series.)
✷ barzal's in toronto (mat barzal) - with mat barzal going to the all-star games and the games going old school, what better person to invite. tobe a celebrity captain than y/n y/l/n-barzal? (part of "the golden boy" series.)
✷ untitled (clayton keller) - instead of spending off-season in some fancy 5-star resort, clayton keller was locked in a house with 11 other contestants, forced to play the celebrity version of “trapped”.
✷ dear dad (mat barzal) - because mat spends a lot of time away and is worried about missing all the big milestones of y/n’s pregnancy, y/n decides to record everything so he won’t miss a thing.
✷ untitled (jack abbot) - jack and y/n have known each other for almost a decade, and in that decade, jack has been everything for y/n and her nephew, milo. friend, father-figure, midnight sticker, everything.
✷ untitled (dick grayson) - dick grayson takes being a boyfriend very seriously.
series coming soon,
✷ i love you so series - a series of fics based on the song “i love you so” by the walters.
✷ the love story series - a series of fics based on different romance movies.
✷ taylor’s house series - a series of fics based on different harry styles songs.
✷ meet me at midnight series - a series of fics based on the “midnights” album by taylor swift.
✷ feels like series - a series of fics based on different gracie abrams songs.
2.2k words of you trying to get Tyler to fuck you and him not giving in...at first
It was almost cute that Tyler thought he could resist you. Granted, a charity dinner maybe wasn’t the best event to seduce your boyfriend but you were sure the marine animals would forgive you, if only they could see Tyler all dressed up.
The plan had been simple. Barely appropriate short dress + no underwear = getting fucked in the bathroom until you could see stars.
But what you hadn’t counted on was your boyfriend’s stubbornness. While he had stared at you all night, he was yet to touch you in not so innocent ways. What fun was holding your boyfriend’s hand when you’d rather have it between your thighs, playing with you under the table?
The dinner itself was relatively tame, completely pescetarian, for some reason. If the point was to fundraise for marine animal conservation, why serve them to the guests?
The table decorations weren’t too bad though. A giant coral piece in the middle of the table obscured you from the view of those seated on the other side and the long table cloth provided cover for what you had planned.
Both the slightly unlawful acquisition of the cutest manatee-shaped salt and pepper shaker you had ever seen —and that were just coincidentally sized small enough to fit into the tiny excuse of a purse you paired with your tiny excuse of a dress, right beside a tube of lipgloss, your phone, and a strip of condoms that had yet to see any action— and the shameless groping of your boyfriend. You were feeling nice though so you waited until after the dinner to do both.
Tyler had removed his tie after dinner and the open collar of his white shirt showed off his strong neck, sadly devoid of any love bites. For now.
Had anybody been paying attention to Tyler they probably would have noticed the way he jumped in his seat —just a little bit, not noticeable unless you watched closely— when your hand came to rest on his thigh. Part of you wanted to skip the buildup and go right in and cup his dick over his suit pants but you were a classy girl at a classy dinner so you would work your way up his thigh slowly, making sure Tyler knew how much you needed him.
Things moved slow and you were impatient but rushing things just didn’t seem smart. You wanted to drive him wild until he couldn’t hold back and simply had to take you.But that meant you had to pace yourself.
For all intents and purposes Tyler was great at acting unbothered. He carried a certain nonchalance that came from experience. This wouldn’t be the first time you did this and it wouldn’t be the last.
You had traced your pointer finger along the inseam of his pants for what felt like hours, up and down without moving your hand, before Tyler finally acknowledged it.
“What are you doing?” He asked, voice low and just a hint of strained.
Huh, you’d thought he’d be more desperate by now.
Turning to look at Tyler when you answered him was only polite, using your upper arm to push your boobs together and make them look bigger on the other hand wasn’t polite at all, but it got him to look.
“You know exactly what I’m doing.”
Below the tablecloth your hand inched higher. Not dangerously so but just enough to make Tyler react.
“We’re getting out of here as soon as we can.” He hissed.
Great idea. As a reward you slid your hand higher, to the top of his thigh.
Tyler leaned back in his chair, sliding down just slightly so that more of his lower half was obscured from view, long legs disappearing under the tablecloth.
You spent the next hour or so just palming his thigh as the night's entertainment proceeded. After a small presentation about the planned conservation efforts a small band took the stage, providing a background sound to the mingling.
Some of his teammates came over from their tables —how the Rays’ owner invited the entire team but split them up over several tables, you didn’t know— and asked Tyler if he would join them at the bar. He wouldn’t drink tonight, taking his driver duties seriously, but there was no reason he couldn’t socialize with the boys a little bit before taking you home.
You went to find their partners in the meantime, talking about holiday plans and cooing over pictures of children and puppies in little costumes.
After maybe half an hour the men started to make their way back, joining their better halves and hanging out glasses of bubbly.
“Tyler’s outside.” You get told when you fail to spot him. “Said he wanted to get some fresh air.”
So he was probably trying to hide his big frame in a corner and discreetly vape. By the time he joined you again there was a faint fruity smell lingering around him, confirming your suspicions.
“Ready to go?” He asked you, casually, as if he wasn’t holding his jacket in a way that was almost certainly meant to conceal a bulge in his pants.
Beside you one of the guys frowned. “Already?”
“We have an early day tomorrow.” Tyler answered for the two of you.
You rushed through the goodbyes and out of the hotel ballroom the event was held at. Tyler left to get the car but you had the foresight to idle in the lobby until he pulled up, just to escape the sinking temperatures outside.
He held the passenger door open for you and you climbed in, watching as he did a small half jog around the car to reach the driver side.
You trusted Tyler but you also knew that distracted driving could only lead to accidents so you waited until he pulled into the street to your neighborhood before you let one of your hands wander beneath your dress, teasing your folds while you waited for him to notice. It didn’t take long, but instead of saying anything he just reached over, wordlessly replacing your hands with his.
“Finally.” You breathed out, spreading your legs wider to give him better access.
Tyler didn’t comment on your lack of underwear, focusing on the road and burying his long fingers deep inside you without preamble.
A moan left your lips before you could stop yourself but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of another.
He knew how to touch, the way he needed to move his fingers to drive you wild.
You were so lost in the feeling of having something in you that you didn’t even notice that the car had stopped. That was until Tyler withdrew his fingers from you, pushed his seat as far back as the car would let him, and then hauled you over the middle console and onto his lap in a move that shouldn’t have been as smooth as it was.
By the time you caught onto what happened he was already working on getting his belt open and you tried your hardest not to think about the fact that those thick long fingers had been inside you just moments before.
“Fuck.” He hissed as he struggled with the clasp.
You pushed his hands away, getting to work opening it. “Here, let me…”
The second his belt was open you moved on to his zipper, pulling it down carefully but fast before sliding your hands into the fabric on either side of his hip and pulling both his suit pants and underwear down as much as you could in your position.
Tyler lifted his hips to help you free his dick and you thanked him by sinking down on him in one smooth motion.
No matter how many times you would do this, there was a part of you convinced it would be impossible to ever get used to the feeling of him inside you. Tyler filled you in ways no other man could ever hope to and your heart ached at the thought of moving, but you planned on getting fucked tonight so you inevitably had to.
The car didn’t leave much room for you to move but you wouldn’t let that stop you from getting what you so desperately needed.
Tyler’s hands came up to grip your hips, moving your body with ease as you switched from deep grinds to riding him. There was no build up, no gently waiting to adjust, you just took. And Tyler gave.
He managed to hold back, head thrown back and moans held back by him biting his lip, as you moved on top of him. It felt easy to lean forward and attach your lips to his neck. Twin moans left your mouths at the change of angle and you finally felt him come alive below you.
The next time you rose up he kept you there, hovering above him just enough that he could fuck up into you.
Tyler didn’t hold back anymore, putting his strength to good use.
It didn’t take long for you to get close —not after spending the entire night waiting. Your boyfriend didn’t seem to be too far away from release either, by the way his thighs were beginning to shake against the seat below you.
“Don’t come—” He bit your shoulder, making you tighten around him while a moan forced its way past your lips. “Don’t come until I say you can.”
It was an order, plain and simple. Tyler had made you wait for so long that it only seemed fair to make him wait in return.
His hips bucked at the request, throwing off the perfect rhythm he had before. The whine you let out in response didn't help so you started moving again, meeting his thrusts as you tried to chase your high.
You were close, so so close, but no matter what you did, release seemed to stay just barely out of reach. You whined again, moving faster, changing the angle, anything to push you over the edge.
It was Tyler that finally brought you release.
His fingers, his wonderfully long and skilled fingers, found your clot and you fell apart above him not even a single breath later.
Thigh shaking, you fell forward, letting Tyler bear your weight as he continued to thrust up into you, fucking you through your high while he chased his own.
He was beautiful. He was a mess.
Tyler had his head hung long, forehead buried in the crook of your neck as he mindlessly rutted up into you. His long hair brushed against your skin and when you combed it back with your fingers he groaned against your pulse.
Part of you wanted him to beg for forgiveness —just a little bit, because he made you wait all night before taking you— but the feeling of him deep inside of you was starting to turn from pleasurable overstimulation into too much.
“Ty.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
“Tyler.” You repeated when he didn’t react.
He still continued to move his hips, too lost in the feeling to react. It wasn’t until you used your grip in his hair and pulled his head back that he snapped out of it.
“You can come.”
He did so silently, pulling you against him as close as possible and burying his face in the crook of your neck again.
It took a while for Tyler to come down, dace still hidden against your body while he slowly softened inside you, heart racing.
You pulled off carefully before sitting back down on his lap. It was only then that you noticed that you completely forgot about a condom, Tyler’s release slowly dripping out of you and onto his suit pants.
The two of you watched silently for a moment before you spoke. “Do you think these are ruined or could we bring them to a dry cleaner?” Tyler didn’t wear these pants often but he looked amazing when he did. It would be a shame if you’d have to get rid of them.
“I don’t think we can save these.” Was Tyer’s response.
He tried to put his ruined pants back on but you were a little in the way. It was only when you tried to lift yourself up to give him some room that you noticed how weak your legs felt. Tyler must have noticed it too because after he tucked himself back into his pants he wrapped one arm around your middle and pulled you close again before opening the car door and stepping out with you in his arms.
Once outside you noticed that he had parked the car in your driveway and you realized that you had fucked there too. What if any of your neighbors saw?
Tyler just hiked you higher in his arms and carried on walking towards your front door, unlocking it one handed. Once inside you found yourself with your back pressed against the door, Tyler looking down at you with a glint in his eyes that told you the night was far from over. Without meaning to your hips jerked, the drag of your core against his hard middle sending a shock through your body.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as if he could sense your thoughts, “I won’t make you wait a second time.”
song of the fic: Pasoori by Shae Gill and Ali Sethi
You wake up in your small apartment each morning, making coffee and breakfast before heading to work. The days blend into a monotonous routine, leaving you feeling unfulfilled and lonely. Your evenings are spent in solitude, indulging in frozen meals and binge-watching TV shows. Deep down, you yearn for something more meaningful in your life.
One fateful evening, you decide to step out of your comfort zone and attend a local baseball game. As you settle into your seat, the excitement in the air is palpable. The crowd enthusiastically roars as the star player, Shohei Ohtani, takes the field. You've heard about his incredible skills and record-breaking performances, but seeing him in action leaves you in awe.
Intrigued by Shohei's talent and charisma, you find yourself captivated by his every move. His powerful swings and precise pitches leave you spellbound, and you begin following his games religiously. One day, fate smiles upon you as you spot him at a coffee shop before a game. Summoning your courage, you approach him and strike up a conversation. To your surprise, he is warm and approachable, and you instantly feel a connection.
As the weeks pass, you continue to attend Shohei's games, but your thoughts extend beyond his athletic prowess. You imagine spending time with him outside the ballpark, sharing laughter and creating memories. Encouraged by your growing affection, you take a chance and invite him to dinner. To your delight, he accepts with a smile.
Over shared meals and outings, you discover the depth of Shohei's character. Beyond his athletic achievements, he is compassionate, driven, and shares your longing for connection. Each moment spent together deepens your affection, and it becomes clear that something special is blossoming between you.
However, as the baseball season nears its end, the looming reality of Shohei's return to Japan threatens to dampen your newfound happiness. The uncertainty of the future weighs heavily on your heart, and you dread the possibility of being separated once again. You share a romantic sunset dinner on your last evening together, cherishing every moment. In a tender moment, Shohei promises to come back to you, no matter the distance.
The following months are filled with longing and anticipation as you await Shohei's return. The days seem endless, but your love remains steadfast. Finally, the long-awaited day arrives—the start of a new season. As the game concludes, you find Shohei standing at your doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers. The joy in both your hearts is palpable, and you know that your love has endured the test of time and distance.
Together again, you compensate for the moments lost, cherishing every second spent in each other's embrace. You support Shohei wholeheartedly as he devotes himself to his baseball career, attending games and offering unwavering encouragement. You provide him solace and a safe haven in the quiet moments, easing his exhaustion and reminding him that his worth extends far beyond the field.
One evening, after a particularly challenging game, you decide to surprise Shohei with a thoughtful date to lift his spirits. You prepare his favorite meal with love and secure tickets to an art exhibit you know he'll appreciate. As you unveil the surprise, a smile lights up his face, and you embark on a night filled with art, laughter, and heartfelt connection. In each other's presence, you find comfort and strength.
As the baseball season progresses and the team advances toward the playoffs, the bond between you and Shohei deepens further. On a chilly October night, amidst the jubilation of a division-winning celebration, Shohei finds you amidst the confetti and cheers. He scoops you up in his arms at that moment, exclaiming, "We did it!" The love in his eyes assures you that no matter the challenges ahead, your hearts have found a home in each other.
Together, you face the uncertainties of life with unwavering devotion. No distance can separate you, for your love transcends borders and oceans. In the embrace of each other's arms, you find the warmth and fulfillment that once eluded you. And as you continue to cheer Shohei on from the stands, you know that the most significant victory is the love you share, a love that knows no boundaries.
Hey Jays fans… or baseball fans in general as well.
It’s almost the end of the season, so no baseball till next spring, it’s gonna be a loooooonnngg break, I know. I know that feeling considering I also watch hockey. And lemme tell you… I know that pain.
(*side-eyes the Leafs and every time they lose round one of the playoffs*)
So… anyone wanna take one for the team and start making some fanworks while we wait? Art, fanfiction… this whole place is barren of anything fan made and that’s a tragedy.
NOW HEAR ME OUT.
We got Hockey fanworks, we got Soccer fanworks, we got Formula 1/Racing fanworks…. But not a ton of Baseball fanworks!
(Granted I see a rise in Shohei Ohtani fanfics which is awesome and it’s a great start)
I’d usually would love to if I had the work-ethic and creativity, but I’m also busy workin on a fanfic series completely unrelated to baseball, so I’m sending out a rallying call for anyone to step up to the plate and show off their works!
Anyways don’t mind me imma just crawl back to where I was hiding-
Author’s Note: Hello, my peeps! This was another anonymous request I got! It was a request based on a three second clip someone sent me of Ohtani hitting his bat against something in frustration. They asked me to write something based around that. I hope I did it justice for whoever sent it in! Let me know! GIF credit to canubelievethis!
Warnings: Maybe an allusion to sexual overtones? It’s nothing graphic or anything. There’s just a make out session that gets a little steamy. I’ll include the warning just to be safe because you can never be too careful, ya know?
Word Count: 1.3k+
Title: She’s Got It All by Kenny Chesney
Additional: The reader is mentioned to be a member of the Angels. So, maybe that would make them masculine since, as far as we know, every player in the MLB is masculine. That being said, I still made the language vague to make them appear to be gender-neutral because I thought it would be nice for everyone to be able to envision themselves as being a baseball player. Ya know? Also. I didn’t know who the heck the Angels were playing on the day the clip was timestamped for. So like. I just decided for the sake of the fic, they’re playing Oakland. Hope that’s okay...? Anyways! I hope everyone enjoys this. and, as always, I love hearing feedback!
From where you were sitting in the dugout, you could tell that Shohei wasn’t happy as soon as he walked down the steps. He normally gave you a smile or a nod; this time, however, he ignored you and went straight for the equipment cubby that was next to the lineup card.
Just as you turned to ask him what was wrong, you saw him slam his bat against one of the compartments and mutter something angrily in Japanese. You could tell that he wanted to slam his helmet down but you saw him think better of it because he took it off and simply placed it inside of his cubby. He carefully slid his bat and protective gear in alongside it before he walked over to the bench and sat down beside you.
“Everything alright?” You asked, though you asked in Japanese so nobody else on the team would fully pick up on what you were saying.
Shohei looked at you pointedly and shook his head. He sighed and ran a hand down his face before he looked back out over the field. “That at bat was bullshit. I should’ve gotten a hit.”
You brought your hand over and gently squeezed his knee. Shohei brought his own hand over and squeezed your knee, running his thumb along your knee briefly. You shivered a little, swallowing thickly at how nice the sensation made you feel. Shohei then brought his hand up and started massaging your thigh. Your throat went completely dry as you looked down at his hand and then up at him. He wasn’t even looking at you; he was still focused on what was happening on the field. And that appeared to be Oakland getting ready for their turn at the plate because Jared had grounded out to Matt Olson.
When you realized you hadn’t responded to what Shohei had said yet, you swallowed to collect yourself. You didn’t want to sound too distressed when you spoke for fear of giving away how Shohei rubbing your thigh was really making you feel.
“I know that’s how you feel,” you said, though your voice still came out croakier than you would’ve liked. Shohei shifted his attention from the field to look at you, his expression one of slight amusement. He had a smirk on his face as he continued to run his hand along your inner thigh, though he had moved it lower so that it was further away from your crotch. “But Sean threw a nasty pitch. I think you should be proud of yourself for even getting wood on it to pop out to Chapman.”
Shohei hummed, nodding along to what you were saying. “Maybe you’re right. A pitcher like myself should be able to recognize the talent of another pitcher such as Sean Manaea.”
“Exactly!”
Shohei smiled as he continued to run his hand along your inner thigh. You inhaled sharply when he once again got close to your crotch. Shohei raised an eyebrow and quirked the corner of his lip into a smile. He motioned his head toward the tunnel that lead to the clubhouse before he slipped off the bench and walked away. You waited a few minutes so it didn’t seem suspicious before you followed after him.
Once you were in the tunnel and away from the cameras and the prying eyes of your teammate, you smoothed out the crease Shohei’s hand had caused in your pants. Shohei only smirked as he grabbed both of your wrists, held your hands above your head, and backed you against the wall. You made a surprised noise because you hadn’t been expecting to be manhandled like that, though you weren’t exactly going to complain when you looked at Shohei and saw the look of pure determination in his eyes.
Shohei slotted his knee between your legs as he smirked at you. He grabbed both of your wrists between one hand, using the other hand to wipe some sweat off of your forehead. You breathed a couple of uneven breaths, suddenly very overwhelmed by what was transpiring. When Shohei brought his free hand down to untuck your jersey, you swallowed thickly and rocked your hips against his knee.
“How long?” Shohei asked, putting his hand underneath your jersey once it was untucked. He carefully began to move it along your skin, shifting it to your side to gently brush his fingertips over your ribs. You shivered as you rocked down against his knee again. Shohei looked at you pointedly and squeezed your wrists tightly. “How long, (Y/N)?”
“Huh... How luh—long for what?” You stuttered a little because you were having trouble keeping your breathing even from how overwhelmed Shohei was making you feel.
“How long have you wanted to do this with me?”
“Seh... Sehc—second week of the season.”
Shohei leaned in so that his lips were just barely separated from your ear. He blew a warm breath against the shell, causing you to shiver before he whispered: “Second week of spring training for me.”
You swallowed around a thick knot in your throat as Shohei dropped your wrist. Without hesitation, you brought your hands to the front of his jersey, pushed him backwards, and connected your lips to his. Shohei smirked into the kiss before he started moving his lips in tandem with yours. To make matters worse, he was gently, tortuously moving his knee against your crotch. It was making you want to hit him with the baseball bat in the same way he hit the equipment cubbies with his baseball bat earlier. It was driving you mad and you loved it.
“Uh... Shohei? (Y/N)?”
You pulled your lips apart and turned to see who had interrupted you. Standing at the top of the stairs was Max Stassi. He was holding an iPad and looking rather flustered.
“Can we help you, Max?” You asked, dropping your hands from Shohei’s jersey and sticking them in your pants pockets instead.
“I, uh, came to find you,” he pointed to you as he held up the iPad, “I wanted to discuss how we’re gonna attack the A’s hitters tomorrow since I’m the one catching your start.”
You glanced up at Shohei; Shohei nodded before he stepped backwards.
“Alright. I’ll come have a look so we can figure it out.”
“Th—Thanks.” Max rubbed the back of his neck as he looked nervously between you and Shohei. “Sorry to interrupt by the way. Do you two need a few more minutes? I’m willing to wait.”
Shohei shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“No, it’s alright. We can pick this up later.” He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You felt your face heat up as you looked over at Max; Max smiled awkwardly as he shifted from foot to foot and fidgeted with the iPad in his hands. “We’ve waited this long to get together. What’s waiting a little longer?”
You reached out and patted Shohei on the chest, smiling weakly as you did. Shohei chuckled as he patted your upper arm in return. He kicked your cleat before he walked away, walking past Max and back into the dugout. You saw him slap Max’s ass and mouth ‘sorry’ as he walked past but all Max did was chuckle nervously and give a half-assed thumbs up in reply.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Max,” you said after a few minutes of awkward silence.
Max looked at you with a confused expression as he leaned against the doorway. He held the iPad against his chest and crossed his ankles over one another.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” he chuckled. “Trust me. I’d tell you if I was.”
“What’s the problem then? Because you look like something’s off.”
“Everyone had a bet going for how long it would take you two to get together.”
“Who won?”
Max smirked, motioning over his shoulder. “Shohei.”
“Bastard!”
“I’m your bastard, though!” Shohei yelled from somewhere in the dugout.
I walked into the loud party hearing sounds coming from all sides of the room. It felt like I was jumped back into high school. I was in Georgia that weekend for an interview, and it coincidentally fell on the same weekend as Ozzie Albies big party. Ozzie knows everyone that has ever lived and I don’t know how. I’m an actress. I’ve appeared in many large projects such as the marvel films, shameless, beautiful boy, american horror story, and the bling ring. I remember the exact night I met Albies. It was the golden globe awards and he showed up as someone’s date, but I can’t remember who’s. He came up to me and we talked for a bit and he got my phone number.
When I got this invitation, I wasn’t planning on coming, but I didn’t realize I would already be in georgia. The whole house smelled of booze and vodka. I did a lap around and saw many familiar faces I wasn’t expecting to see. Ozzie really does know A LOT of people. I couldn’t find anyone i was particularly close with, so I headed to the kitchen to get a drink. surprisingly, there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen except for one guy. He was tall, brunette, with blue eyes. He was wearing a hoodie and a braves hat on backwards. I recognized him in almost two seconds; Max Fried. I grabbed a sprite from the fridge when I turned to him.
“Do you think Ozzie will mind if i took one of his sprites?”, I asked.
“Nah absolutely not. He doesn’t care.”
“Cool. I don’t really a feel like drinking tonight.”
“Same here.”, he shook his cup of hawaiian punch. “I’m Max by the way.”
“Fried. Right?”
“Yep, and you’re…”
“Y/n.”, I finished his sentence.
“L/n. I love your work. Especially Shameless. I always watch it when I have time off.”, this was surprising since most guys bring up Marvel and then tell me why my character is irrelevant.
“No shit!”, I laughed. “What season are you on?”
“Season 7. The show is really good, and you’re super talented.”
“I could say the same about you. I’ve been a Braves fan since I was a kid, and you’re hands down one of the best pitchers on the team right now.”
“I thought you were from New York?”
“Well I was born here and then moved up when I was about 7”
Max and I talked for about 45 minutes in the kitchen. People would casually come in for another drink like, Chloe Grace Moretz, Lil Nas, and surprisingly Morgan Wallen. Max joked about how people down south are in love with terrible country music. He was really sweet and cute, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.
“YOOO MAX! WHATS UP MAN?”, Dansby Swanson walked into the kitchen arms open and gave Max a hug.
“Hi Dansby.”, I said to him.
“Y/N!! I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE HERE OR I WOULD’VE COME AND SAID HI!”, He came up and hugged me. I was friends with Dansby’s girlfriend Mallory Pugh, so Dansby and I know each other fondly.
He turned back to Max “Yo Maxy, you hittin that shit?”, Dansby was trying to whisper, but he was clearly wasted so it came out as more of a yell.
“OKAY Swanson let’s get your ass out of here.”, Max said trying to shut him up.
“My ubers waiting outside anyways, so love you both! Farewell!”, Dansby blew kisses at both of us as he exited.
Max was surprisingly able to bounce the conversation back after that awkward encounter. He was shocked by how much I knew about baseball since I never showed my interest in it publicly.
“Do you play any?”
“Yeah sometimes with friends. I was never into softball though so I nev-” We suddenly heard a loud crash coming from the living room.
We both ran out to see what it was. I looked around to see a drunk Ozzie Albies laying on the floor groaning and holding his stomach. Max and I ran up to him since we were the only sober ones in the house.
“Holy shit, Albies! What the hell happened?!”, Max asked him.
“Well, I went to the top of my balcony to make a toast and say thank you to all the people for coming, and then BOOM! I fell.”
I looked down and saw that Ozzy had a huge ass cut on his leg. He must of got it from hitting the coffee table.
“Oh fuck. We gotta clean this up. Where’s the bathroom?”, I asked frustratedly.
“upstairs. first door on the left.”
Max grabbed Ozzy’s arms while I grabbed his legs. The party went on in the living room since people only payed attention to his fall for about thirty seconds. We carried Ozzie all the way up to the bathroom which was huge and modern. He had a jacuzzi and a walk in shower. We lay him down on the floor and I walked up to the cabinet to find gauze.
“You know y/n, I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight”, Ozzie said while slurring his speech.
“Well I wasn’t, but I just happened to be in town.”, I looked over to Max and he smiled at me. Albies looked at Max, then me, and then back to Max.
“WOAH WOAH WOAH ARE YOU GUYS-”
“No.”, Max replied
“Not yet.”, I continued. He gave me a soft smirk. It was clear that there was something there. I looked into his blue eyes and starred at his hair under the cap. I’ve always had shit luck with guys but he seemed sweeter than the rest.
“Shit Ozzie.”
“What? What’s wrong?”, he looked terrified.
“You have no peroxide. Which means…”
“We’ll have to use rubbing alcohol.”, Max continued my sentence. I could see the terror on Albies face as I moved closer with the bottle.
“Do you want something to bite down on? Cause this is gonna hurt like a bitch.”, I asked and he nodded. I handed him a towel and he put it in his mouth. I squatted down and started to pour the alcohol on his cut. I saw tears bubbling in his eyes as he felt the urge to scream. “We’re almost done buddy don’t worry.” I finished up the last of it and ran to grab the bandage. “There you go! Good as new.”, I rustled his hair.
“Now just please no more jumping off balconies.”, Max added.
“I didn’t jump!”, Ozzie was arguing like a little kid. I was getting up from my squat when I fell on my ass. The rubbing alcohol spilled all over my shirt.
“Fuck.”, the entire rest of the bottle had poured on top of me. I sat up and started waving my shirt to see if it would dry, but it was no luck since I was covered in it. Albies had passed out on the floor, so I didn’t want to take any of his clothes from his drawers.
“um uhh- stay here and try to wash it off of your skin i’ll be back.”, Max said as he hurried out the door. I took my shirt off leaving only my bra to cover my top half. I grabbed a wash rag and started rubbing the alcohol off my neck hoping the smell would go away. Some people liked it, but i couldn’t stand the stench that alcohol left behind it just reminds me of sanitizer.
“Hey- oh sorry”, Max walked in not realizing i’d be shirtless. “I uh- I brought you this. It was the only thing I had in my car. It was from the last game we played.”, He handed me a white braves jersey with the name “Fried” and the number “54”. I threw it on quickly and looked at myself in the mirror. It was huge and went past my shorts. That was a good thing though because it was comfy and smelled like Max’s cologne.
“I love it. I hope you know i’m keeping this forever”
“Well Snitker’s not gonna be very happy about that, but i’ll tell him the bad news myself.”, We laughed. He seemed genuine and caring. I had been so lonely these past few months just so busy with work that I forgot what it felt like to have someone like this. To be fair, I hadn’t had a guy like this in ages since all the ones i’ve dated were douche bags.
“I kinda don’t want to be here anymore. You know surrounded by all these people. Do you maybe wanna get something to eat?”, he asked me.
