You Took My Breath Away (Barrett Wilbert Weed x Reader)

You Took My Breath Away

"Don't forget your shin guards!" Barrett called out.

Your hands grazed over the side pocket of your bag. And my water bottle. Already anxious about being late for stretches, you briskly ran back over to the car where she stood, door still open and zipping up her rain jacket.

"Be careful," Barrett honeyed, meeting you halfway. "Don't exhaust yourself too much before the game."

Grabbing the shin guards and the water bottle, you gave a noiseless nose laugh complimented with a generous eye roll.

"I'll be fine," you said.

Barrett pulled you close and swooped your ponytail over your shoulder.

"I know. I just worry is all," she pouted.

It was true. Barrett's worries about you measured infinity. Not just because of the asthma, but with everything. Her natural reflex for almost anything is jumping in front so that you would come out without a scratch on you. Lord help the person who looks at you funny, because Barrett will physically tear them apart. You didn't mind Barrett being so protective of you. What wasn't there to like? Watching her do something like chew out a creep-o guy who tried to hit on you at a bar was extremely...just- hot. Though, over the years you've helped her be more calm and taught her not to bark at every stranger who looks like they're coming near me with bad intentions. All that is needed to do that is a quick "I love you" and kiss on the cheek. She can't help but grin like an idiot when you love her like that.

"It'll be okay, baby," you reassured, bringing Barrett's face up to yours. "I've got my inhaler in the top zipper of my bag and Coach Jennings knows what to do if anything happens."

Barrett nodded, cupping your cheek. Damn, if that move didn't work on you every time. A whistle sounded from behind, and looking back the team was getting into their warm-up circle.

"The game's going to start soon, and I need to touch a ball at least once before kickoff. I love you," you said, giving Barrett a quick peck on her flushed lips before jogging out across the field.

Warm-ups were one of your favorite parts about being on the Stingrays Travel Team. Next to, you know, actually playing the game. Only reason being that you could see Barrett in the bleachers leaning over to whatever unwilling human was sitting near her and boasting, "Number 24, the one who just nailed that passing drill? That's my girlfriend. She's such a strong player and an amazing defender, just watch when the game starts."

This always prompted a unison slew of playful teasing from your teammates. Exaggerated "oohs" and "aahs" became a hallmark rag. As much as they'd care to admit, they really liked having Barrett come to the games. Especially if it's an away game. There aren't many people who come to cheer on the Rays. The team wasn't really one that would win a whole lot. Sure, everyone was strong and technical, but the other teams were always stronger. For years the Tigers called you guys the "Light Blue Babies", while the Gators aimed for whoever was the forward to repeatedly shove during the game while muttering, "Stingray screw-up" in their ear. They were ruthless and grueling. Today wasn't going to be any better. In fact, it might actually be the worst game day of the year.

Nobody ever wanted to verse the Pirates. Each player was tall, lean, and merciless. Rumor has it that last season one of their midfielders snapped a girl's leg in half and sent her to the hospital. That was just a rumor, though, despite nobody really discussing it in that sense. You dreaded this game more than anything that could've happened this season. It was like trying to avoid the overly affectionate relative at the family reunion, as much as you hid at the back table, you were bound to run into them at some point. Only difference being that your aunt probably doesn't want to murder you. Probably.