#cfb x reader

Easter morning in the Manning house is loud. It always has been.

There’s no such thing as a quiet holiday when you’ve got siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and at least three people arguing over who burned the biscuits. Arch is used to it, the chaos, the overlapping conversations, the constant movement.

What he’s not used to is watching someone else fit into it like they were always meant to be there.

He leans against the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand, barely even aware that he hasn’t taken a sip yet. Because his eyes are stuck on you.

You’re standing at the island with May and Heid, laughing about something, he doesn’t even catch what. May’s showing you how their mom decorates Easter cookies every year, and Heid is trying (and failing) to sneak frosting off the tray without getting caught.

“You’re definitely the troublemaker,” you say, nudging Heid lightly.

Heid grins. “You caught on quick.”

“And you’re the favorite,” you add, pointing at May.

May gasps dramatically. “Finally, someone sees it!”

Arch huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

It’s easy. That’s the first thing he notices.

There’s no awkwardness. No hesitation. You’re not trying too hard, and you’re not holding back either. You’re just being you. And somehow, that works perfectly here.

Like you’ve known them forever. Like you belong here. His chest does something weird, tight, but not in a bad way. More like something settling into place. His mom walks up beside him, following his line of sight.

“She’s doing alright,” she says casually.

Arch nods, a little too quickly. “Yeah. I mean-yeah, she is.”

His mom hums, clearly noticing more than she’s saying.

And Arch looks back at you just in time to see you laugh again, head tilting back slightly, sunlight catching in your hair through the kitchen window.

And it hits him, soft, but undeniable. This feels right. Not in a big, overwhelming way.

A thought that slips in without asking: She could be part of this. For real.

He exhales slowly, finally taking a sip of his coffee. And for the first time that morning, everything feels…steady.

Y/N POV:

I was nervous. Like, really nervous.

Meeting your boyfriend’s family is one thing. Meeting this family, big, loud, close-knit, and very much involved in each other’s lives. Is something else entirely.

But somehow it’s not as scary as I thought it would be.

May is easy to talk to. She’s funny and welcoming and immediately pulled you into helping with breakfast like you’d been doing it for years.

And Heid? He’s exactly the kind of brother you expected Arch to have, teasing, a little chaotic, but sweet underneath it.

“You’re gonna need to learn how to dodge questions,” Heid tells you, leaning closer like he’s sharing a secret. “Our Aunts get intense.”

You laugh. “Good to know. I’ll stay near you for protection.”

“Smart choice,” he says, nodding seriously.

May rolls her eyes. “He’s the worst person to rely on.”

“I’m offended.”

“You should be.”

I laugh again, feeling the last bit of my nerves fade.

Because this feels good. Normal. I glance across the room and catch Arch watching me from the doorway, my smile softens.

He looks quiet. Not in a bad way. Just observing.

I raise an eyebrow slightly and mouth what? He just shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, like he doesn’t even have the words.

And something about that makes my heart flip.

Arch POV:

The Easter egg hunt is chaos.

Kids running everywhere, bright plastic eggs scattered across the yard, someone already arguing about who found the most and it hasn’t even been five minutes.

I stand off to the side with my uncles, half-listening to whatever they’re saying.

Because, again, my attention is somewhere else. Y/N.

One of my younger cousins, Caroline, grabs Y/N’s hand and tugs her toward the far end of the yard.

Y/N POV

“Come on! You have to help me!”

“With what?” I ask, already letting her drag you along.

“The good eggs! The ones with money!”

I gasp dramatically. “Oh, those are serious. Okay, yeah-we need a strategy.”

Arch POV:

I chuckled under my breath.

Of course you’d take it seriously.

But then it becomes something more.

She crouches down next to Caroline, pointing toward a cluster of bushes. “Okay, if I were hiding eggs, I’d put them somewhere sneaky but still findable. Like…there.”

Y/N POV:

Caroline narrows her eyes. “You’re good at this.”

“I like winning,” I whisper.

She grins. “Me too.”

And then we both take off running.

Arch POV:

I watch her as she helps the kids, not just Caroline, but a few of the younger ones who start following her around like she’s been assigned as their official team leader.

She’s laughing, cheering them on, clapping when they find eggs like it’s the biggest accomplishment in the world.

Y/N POV:

At one point, one of the little girls asks me to do a cartwheel. And I don’t hesitate.

I hand my basket to one of the kids, step back and do a perfect cartwheel across the grass.

The girls lose it, cheering and immediately trying to copy me.

“Okay, okay arms up first!” you say, helping one of them position her hands.

Arch POV:

I felt something in his chest hit harder this time.

Not soft, not quiet.

Clear. Loud. Certain.

I’m not just noticing how well you fit anymore. I’m seeing how she shows up. How she care. How she gives your attention fully, like nothing else matters in that moment.

She’s not doing it to impress anyone. She’s not even looking around to see if anyone’s watching. She’s just there for them.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The laughter. The ease. The way she walked into my family and didn’t try to change herself to fit, she just did.

And somehow, that made everything fit around you instead.

My mom nudges me. “Arch, you've done nothing today but stare at her.”

I can’t even speak because the only thing running through my head is ‘That’s her. That’s the girl I’m gonna marry.’

Y/N POV:

I’m out of breath by the time the egg hunt slows down.

I end up sitting in the grass with a few of the kids, helping them count their eggs and trade candy like it’s some kind of high-stakes negotiation.

“I’ll give you two chocolates for that one,” Caroline says seriously.

“That’s a bad deal,” I whisper. “You can get at least three.”

Her eyes widen. “Really?”

“Trust me.”

Arch walks over just in time to hear that.

“You’re teaching them how to hustle now?” he asks.

I look up at him, smiling. “I’m teaching them confidence.”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling too.

There’s something different about him, though.

Softer. But also more focused.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Can I steal you for a second?”

I nod, standing up and brushing grass off my jeans.

“Don’t let anyone scam you,” you tell Caroline before walking away.

“I won’t!” she calls.

I follow Arch a little further from the group, my heart picking up slightly.

“What’s up?”

He doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me. And for a second, I feel that nervousness creep back in.

“Arch?” you say softly.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“I-uh…” He laughs a little, like he doesn’t even know where to start. “You’re really good with them.”

I blink. “The kids?”

“Yeah. But also, my family. All of it.”

I smile gently. “I was nervous, you know.”

“You were?” he says, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. I just didn’t want to mess anything up.”

He shakes his head immediately. “You didn’t. You-” He stops, exhaling again.

And then he just says it.

“You feel like home.”

My breath catches.

The world around you fades a little, the noise, the laughter, everything.

“You…what?” I ask softly.

He steps a little closer, his voice quieter now.

“Watching you today, it just…clicked. Like…this is it for me.” He pauses, searching your face. “You’re it for me.”

My chest tightens, emotions rushing in all at once.

“Arch…”

“I know it sounds fast,” he says quickly. “I’m not-I'm not trying to rush anything. I just…needed you to know.”

I don’t even realize I’m smiling until he relaxes slightly.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Okay?” he repeats.

“Okay,” you nod. “Because…for what it’s worth” I take a breath, steadying myself, “it kind of feels like that for me too.”

His shoulders drop, relief and something brighter flooding his expression. And then he laughs, quiet and disbelieving.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Yeah.”

And just like that, everything feels settled.

Arch POV:

Later that afternoon, I found my mom in the kitchen, cleaning up. I lean against the counter.

“She’s special,”  my mom says before he even speaks.

I let out a short laugh. “That obvious?”

“Arch,” she says, giving me a look. “I raised you.”

I nod slowly.

“Yeah,” I said. “She is.”

My mom watches me for a second.

And then soft, but sure-

“Well,” she says, turning back to the sink, “we’ll find her a nice ring.”

I freeze immediately.

“Mom-” I started, half-laughing.

• Amazing with kids, he spends so much time when he visits you with your little siblings and cousins

• SO touchy. He always has a hand around your waist, your shoulder, anything

• Football nerd - you get at least 20 minutes of recap after every practice

• You always update him on recent trends during the season when he deletes his socials

• Loves talking about you. By the time you meet his family, they already know everything about you

• Such a big cuddler when you two sleep together

• Loves it when you wear his clothes

• Especially his jerseys

• Gave you an old one to wear during one of his games & he couldn’t keep his mind off you the entire time

• Has a Spanish pet name for you ofc

• Lowkey a really good cook, loves making your favorite meals for you

• Takes you on really unique dates, definitely a lot of outdoorsy things if you like them

• But still treats you to dinner at a fancy restaurant once in a while

• Gives you the princess treatment

• Obviously so good with your family, your parents are so obsessed with him

• Brings you your coffee order in the mornings if he goes out somewhere

• Such a good listener

• ^ always remembers random things you mentioned to him a few months ago

• ^^ also makes him a great gift giver. He knows what you’d want & you always get what you want without even asking

• Always opens the door for you, pulls out your chair, walks on the curbside, etc

The test is still on the bathroom counter. I haven’t moved it, I haven’t touched it.

Like if I leave it there long enough, it’ll disappear on its own, like it’ll fix itself, like it’ll turn into something else.

One line.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

Instead. Two.

Bright. Unmistakable. Permanent.

My hands grip the edge of the sink, knuckles white as I stare at it like it might start blinking or apologizing or explaining itself.

“Okay,” I whisper, but my voice is barely there. “Okay… okay…”

It doesn’t feel okay. It feels like the air’s been sucked out of the room. Like everything is suddenly too loud and too quiet at the same time.

I drag a shaky hand over my face, pacing the small hotel bathroom. The tile is cold under my bare feet, grounding me just enough to keep from spiraling completely.

“This is just bad timing,” I murmur to myself. “That’s all this is. Just… really, really bad timing.”

Because tomorrow- no.

Today.

Today is the national championship.

The biggest game of his life. The biggest moment.

I press my lips together hard, my eyes flicking back to the test.

“I’m pregnant,” I say out loud.

The words land heavy. Real. Too real.

A laugh escapes me, but it cracks halfway through. “Cool. Great. Awesome. Love that for me.”

My reflection stares back at me, wide-eyed and pale.

“You cannot tell him before the game,” I say firmly, pointing at myself like I need the warning. “You cannot do that to him.”

Because he’ll choose me. That’s the problem.

He’ll choose this, this moment, this news, me, over everything he’s worked for, even if he says he won’t.

And I can’t let that happen. So I nod to myself, swallowing hard.

“After,” I decide quietly. “You tell him after.”

I don’t sleep. Not really.

Every time I close my eyes, my brain starts running again, what ifs, worst-case scenarios, flashes of a future I’m not ready to picture yet.

So by the time morning comes, I’m running on nothing but nerves and adrenaline.

Which, honestly, matches the energy of the entire stadium.

It’s loud. So loud. The kind of loud that vibrates through your chest, rattles your bones, makes everything feel bigger than it already is.

I should be focused on the game, on him, on the moment.

Instead, my hand keeps drifting to my stomach like there’s already something there to feel.

It’s stupid. It’s early. There’s nothing but still, my fingers press lightly against the fabric of my hoodie.

We’re having a baby.

The thought hits differently every time.

Sometimes it feels terrifying. Sometimes it feels unreal.

And sometimes it feels like something warm, something fragile, something I don’t fully understand yet.

“Hey,” someone says beside me.

I blink, snapping out of it.

One of the other girlfriends drops into the seat, grinning. “You look like you’re about to throw up.”

I force a laugh. “That obvious?”

“Championship nerves,” she says knowingly. “Same.”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Nerves.”

If only that was it. My eyes drift back to the field.

He’s there, moving through warmups, completely locked in, but somehow still him. Confident, focused, calm in a way I don’t understand.

And then like always, he looks up straight at me. My breath catches.

It’s like everything else fades for a second. The noise, the crowd, the pressure, none of it matters in that moment.

Just him. Just us. He gives me that small, familiar smile. The one that’s not for anyone else. I lift my hand automatically.

But something twists in my chest because now there’s something between us that he doesn’t know about.

Something big. Something life-changing.

And I hate it.

By halftime, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my own skin.

We’re down.

Not by much, but enough to make everything sharper. Tenser.

The crowd is restless. My thoughts are worse.

Tell him.

Don’t tell him.

Tell him.

Don’t-

I stand up abruptly.

“I’ll be back,” I mumble to no one in particular, already moving.

I don’t even fully decide to go to the tunnel. My body just takes me there. Like it knows I can’t hold this in any longer.

The tunnel is chaos.

Players rushing past, coaches shouting, equipment clattering, it’s loud and fast and overwhelming.

But somehow, the second he sees me everything slows down.

“Hey, hey!” he calls, weaving through people until he’s right in front of me.

His hands land on my arms immediately. Warm. Solid.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brows pulling together. “You look-”

“I’m fine,” I say too fast.

His expression doesn’t change.

“You’re not fine.”

“I am,” I insist, but my voice betrays me.

He studies me for a second, really looking. And then his whole demeanor shifts, less player, more him. More mine.

“Talk to me,” he says quietly.

I shake my head quickly. “You need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nando-”

“No,” he says, softer this time, but just as firm. “What happened?”

My chest tightens. This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this, because he’s like this, because he cares like this, because he won’t just walk away.

“I took a test,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.

He stills.

“A test?” he repeats carefully.

I nod, my hands trembling now.

“What kind of test?” he asks.

I swallow hard.

“A pregnancy test.”

Silence. Not the loud kind.

The heavy kind. The kind that presses in around you.

“And?” he asks.

I let out a breath that feels like it scrapes on the way out.

“It was positive.”

Everything stops, not the stadium, not the world.

Just him.

His eyes flick over my face like he’s trying to piece it together, like he’s waiting for me to laugh or say just kidding or something.

But I don’t because it’s real.

“I’m pregnant,” I whisper.

His hands drop slightly from my arms, not letting go, just loosening, like he forgot how tight he was holding on.

“Pregnant,” he repeats.

“Yeah.”

A beat passes. Then another.

I brace myself.

But instead of panic he exhales slowly.

Then runs a hand through his hair, letting out a short, almost disbelieving breath.

“Okay,” he says.

I blink. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats, nodding like he’s trying to anchor himself.

“That’s-” I shake my head slightly. “That’s all you have to say?”

His eyes snap back to mine, softer now.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then he steps closer again, like distance isn’t an option.

“Say something else,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Please.”

His expression shifts immediately.

“Hey,” he murmurs, cupping my face gently. “Hey look at me.”

I do. And there’s a lot in his eyes, shock, yeah, and confusion, but underneath it?

Something steady. Something grounding.

“We’re gonna figure it out,” he says.

My breath catches. “We are?”

“Yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “We are.”

A shout echoes behind him, his name. He glances back for half a second, then back at me.

“I have to go,” he says.

“I know.”

Neither of us moves. His thumb brushes under my eye, catching a tear I didn’t realize fell.

“You didn’t want to tell me before the game,” he says suddenly.

It’s not a question.

I shake my head. “I didn’t want to mess this up for you.”

His brows pull together instantly.

“Mess this up?” he repeats.

I shrug helplessly. “This is your moment.”

His jaw tightens slightly, not in anger, but something close.

“You’re my moment,” he says quietly.

That hits harder than anything.

“Fernando-”

“I mean it,” he adds, softer now. “This doesn’t take anything away from that. If anything-”

He stops himself, shaking his head slightly like he doesn’t have time to finish the thought.

“Hey,” he says instead, leaning his forehead against mine for just a second. “I’m still going out there to win.”

A small laugh escapes me through tears. “Good.”

“And then I’m coming straight back to you.”

My heart stutters.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He presses a quick kiss to my forehead.

“Okay,” he echoes.

Then he’s gone.

The second half feels unreal. Every second stretches, every play feels heavier, because now it’s not just about the game.

It’s about everything.

And when the final seconds tick down, when he throws that last pass, when the crowd erupts, I’m already crying before I realize what’s happening.

They won.

He won.

The field is chaos. Confetti everywhere, people screaming, celebrating, cameras flashing, and somehow, through all of it, he finds me. Like he always does.

He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t slow down. He just pulls me into him, lifting me off the ground in one smooth motion.

“We did it!” he laughs into my hair.

“You did it!” I shoot back, gripping onto him like I might float away otherwise.

He sets me down, but his hands stay on me, like he needs to make sure I’m still there.

Then, quieter

“We did it,” he repeats.

And I know exactly what he means.

I swallow, looking up at him. “We really did.”

He grins, then leans in slightly.

“Still pregnant?” he murmurs under his breath.

I laugh through tears. “Yeah. Still pregnant.”

“Good,” he says instantly.

I blink. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Feels like we won twice.”

My chest tightens so hard it almost hurts.

“You’re insane,” I whisper.

“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m serious.”

His hand drifts down for a second, hesitating just above my stomach, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to, then he rests it there carefully. And something about that completely undoes me.

“Hi,” he murmurs softly, almost to himself.

I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “It’s like… the size of nothing right now.”

“Still,” he says, not moving his hand.

Then he looks back up at me.

“We’re really doing this, huh?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. We are.”

A beat passes. Then he smiles again, different this time. Not just happy.

Certain.

“Okay,” he says.

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that he’s not next to me. Which is weird because Arch always wakes up after me.

I squint against the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, rolling onto his side of the bed. It’s still warm, but empty, the sheets slightly wrinkled like he slipped out quietly.

Suspicious. 

I push myself up, pulling his oversized t-shirt down my thighs as I step into the hallway.

“Arch?” I call, my voice still thick with sleep.

There’s a pause.

Then, from the kitchen-

“Stay right there!”

I blink.

“…why?”

“Just don’t move,” he says, and I can practically hear the grin in his voice.

Now I’m smiling. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms, trying to look patient even though curiosity is eating me alive.

There’s a clatter. A muttered “oh shit-” followed by what sounds like a drawer slamming shut.

I bite back a laugh. A minute later, he appears around the corner and my heart does that thing. That stupid, ridiculous, traitorous thing.

Because he’s standing there in gray sweats, hair messy like he ran his hands through it a hundred times, holding a slightly uneven plate of pancakes with a candle stuck in the middle.

“Happy birthday to me,” he says, deadpan.

I laugh, covering my mouth. “Oh my God, you made your own birthday breakfast?”

“Correction,” he says, stepping closer. “I made our breakfast. But yes, I did it on my birthday, because my girlfriend is apparently incapable of waking up before noon.”

I gasp. “It is not noon.”

He raises an eyebrow. I glance at the clock. 11:47.

“Okay, first of all,” I start, grabbing the plate from him, “I had a plan.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, leaning against the counter, watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room. “What was the plan?”

I take a bite of pancake, buying time.

“to wake up earlier than you.”

He laughs and it’s warm and easy and so him that I feel it all the way down to my chest.

“Great plan, babe. Really executed it well.”

I roll my eyes, stepping closer to him. “You’re 22 now. Be nice to your girlfriend. It’s like, a maturity thing.”

He tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Nah.”

I shove him lightly, but he catches my wrist, tugging me into him and just like that, everything softens. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel his heartbeat through his chest.

“Hey,” I murmur, looking up at him.

“Hey,” he echoes, quieter now.

For a second, neither of us says anything.

And then I smile.

“Happy birthday.”

Something shifts in his expression just a little. Like it hits him deeper than he expected.

“Thank you,” he says, softer.

I reach up, brushing my fingers through his hair. “You feel older?”

“Yeah,” he says immediately. “My back hurts. I think I need to retire.”

I snort. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. It’s a problem.”

I shake my head, but I’m still smiling as I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. It’s slow and soft. The kind of kiss that doesn’t rush anything.

When I pull back, his hands tighten slightly at my waist, like he’s not ready to let go yet.

“Okay,” I say, stepping out of his hold before I get distracted. “Now that you’ve successfully made your own birthday breakfast-”

“You’re welcome by the way.”

“I have a surprise.”

His eyes light up immediately. “Oh?”

“Go get dressed.”

“How dressed?”

I narrow my eyes. “Arch.”

He grins. “Just asking for clarification.”

“Normal human amount of dressed,” I say, pointing toward the bedroom. “And don’t take forever.”

He salutes me. “Yes ma’am.”

An hour later, we’re in the car.

He’s still trying to guess.

“Are we leaving the state?”

“No.”

“Are we skydiving?”

“No.”

“Is this legal?”

“…mostly.”

He turns to look at me. “Mostly?”

I grin, keeping my eyes on the road. “Relax. It’s your birthday. I wouldn’t get you arrested.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s close enough.”

He shakes his head, laughing under his breath, but he reaches over anyway, lacing his fingers with mine across the center console.

And something about that, something so simple, makes my chest feel full because this is it. Not the big moments. Not the parties or the attention or the pressure that follows him everywhere.

Just us.

When we pull up, he frowns slightly.

“A lake?”

“Get out,” I say, already unbuckling my seatbelt.

He follows me, still looking confused as I grab a bag from the backseat.

“Okay, explain.”

“Not yet,” I say, dragging him toward the dock.

And then he sees it. The small boat. The one I rented. Decorated, badly, with a couple balloons and a crooked “22” banner.

He stops.

“…you did this?” he asks.

I suddenly feel shy. “Yeah. I just thought, since things are always so crazy, and you never really get like quiet time”

My voice trails off.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. And then he pulls me into him so fast I barely have time to react.

“Are you kidding me?” he murmurs into my hair. “This is perfect.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, smiling against his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

We spend the afternoon on the water. No phones. No distractions. Just music playing softly from my speaker, the sun warm against our skin, his arm draped lazily around my shoulders as we sit side by side.

At one point, he leans his head against mine.

“Best birthday I’ve had in a while,” he says.

I glance up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, squeezing me a little closer. “No expectations. No pressure. Just you.”

My chest tightens. I tilt my head, looking at him properly now.

“You deserve more days like this,” I say quietly.

He watches me for a second and then his expression softens in a way that makes everything feel still.

“I’ve got them,” he says.

“How?”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek.

“As long as you’re there.”

I lean in first this time, kissing him slow, steady, like I’m trying to memorize it. The warmth, the quiet, the way his hand comes up to hold my face like I’m something fragile and important at the same time.

When we pull apart, we don’t move far. We never really do.

“Happy birthday,” I whisper again.

He smiles and this time, it’s softer.

Y/N POV

The first time Arch asked me to come to one of his games, I said no. The second time, I said maybe. The third time, he showed up at my apartment with coffee and a schedule.

"You have no excuses left," he informed me.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You're annoying."

"So I've been told."

Violet looked up from her coloring book.

"I wanna go."

Traitor. Absolute traitor.

Arch grinned.

"See? V gets it."

The problem wasn't the game. The problem was everything that came with it. The people. The cameras. The attention. The fact that everyone seemed to know who Arch was.

Meanwhile, I was just a college student trying to survive classes, work, and raising a four-year-old.

The thought of sitting with his family made my stomach hurt.

What if I said something stupid? What if I didn't fit in? What if they realized I didn't belong there?

"Mommy."

I blinked. Violet was staring at me from the couch.

"You're doing the thing again."

"What thing?"

"The thinking thing."

I sighed. Apparently even my four-year-old could tell.

Game day arrived much faster than I wanted it to. The stadium was already packed when we arrived. The sound hit me first, music, announcements, thousands of people talking all at once.

I immediately wanted to turn around.

"Wow."

Violet's eyes were huge.

"Look at it!"

Meanwhile I was trying not to throw up. 

Arch had already gone ahead with the team, so it was just me and Violet making our way inside. Every step made me more nervous. By the time we reached the suite where his family was sitting, my palms were sweating.

I stood outside the door for a second.

Maybe I could fake a sudden illness.

Maybe-

The door opened and Ellen immediately smiled.

"Well there you are."

Before I could even respond, Violet launched herself forward.

"Hi!"

Ellen laughed.

"Hi, sweetheart."

Just like that, Violet walked right inside like she owned the place. 

I wished I had half her confidence.

The suite was full. People talking, laughing, watching warmups on the field below. My chest tightened immediately.

Too many people, too much noise, too much everything.

I suddenly felt completely out of place. Everyone looked so comfortable. So familiar.

Meanwhile I was standing awkwardly near the doorway trying to figure out where to put my hands.

"Y/N."

I looked up.

May had noticed. Of course she had.

"You okay?"

I forced a smile.

"Yeah."

She gave me a look.

The kind that said she absolutely did not believe me.

Then she gently guided me toward an empty chair.

"Sit."

"I'm okay-"

"Sit."

I sat. 

"There we go."

My face warmed.

"I don't really know what I'm doing here."

The confession slipped out before I could stop it. She looked surprised.

"At the game?"

I nodded.

"With all of you."

For a moment she just stared at me. Then she smiled softly.

"Oh honey."

Instantly I wanted to disappear.

"You think we're judging you?"

I didn't answer. Which was apparently answered enough. She reached over and squeezed my hand.

"You're here because Arch wants you here."

My throat tightened.

"And because Violet wants to be here."

As if on cue-

"LOOK!"

We both turned. Violet was standing against the glass, practically vibrating.

"THAT'S ARCHIE!"

The entire suite laughed. Because yes. The giant quarterback warming up on the field below was indeed Arch.

"That's him!" Violet repeated.

As if we might miss him.

The game hadn't even started and she was already obsessed. Every time Arch appeared on the giant screen, she gasped. Every. Single. Time.

"Mommy!"

"I see him."

"Mommy!"

"I still see him."

"Mommy!"

"Shockingly, yes, that's still Arch."

The people around us were trying not to laugh. I wasn't succeeding. 

Then something happened.

Arch looked up.

All the way toward the suite.

And somehow, he found us.

Or rather he found Violet.

His face immediately lit up. Violet squealed. Actually squealed.

"HE SAW ME!"

She started jumping up and down.

"He saw me!"

The people around us laughed.

"He definitely saw you," someone agreed.

Because honestly?

It would've been impossible not to.

The game finally started. And Violet became the most invested football fan in history. Not because she understood football. She absolutely did not.

But because Arch was playing. That was enough.

Whenever he completed a pass?

She cheered.

Whenever he ran?

She cheered.

Whenever literally anything happened?

She cheered. At one point she turned to me.

"Is he winning?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Then she went back to watching.

As the game went on, something unexpected happened.

I relaxed.

Slowly. Little by little. The knot in my chest loosened.

The people around me weren't judging me. They weren't analyzing every little thing I did.

They were just kind.

They shared snacks with Violet. Explained plays she didn't understand. Included me in conversations. Made room for us without making it feel forced. 

For the first time all day, I stopped feeling like an outsider.

Late in the fourth quarter, Violet climbed into my lap. The excitement had finally worn her out. 

She rested her head against my shoulder.

Still watching the field.

Still watching Arch.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah?"

Her voice was sleepy.

"I like his games."

I smiled.

"Me too."

She watched him for another minute.

"I think he likes us."

My heart stopped. Just for a second.

Because she sounded so certain, so safe, so loved.

I kissed the top of her head.

"Yeah, baby."

Across the field, Arch celebrated another big play. The crowd erupted. The suite exploded with cheers.

And for the first time since we'd arrived, I didn't feel overwhelmed. I felt like I belonged. After the game, we waited near the family area.

The second Arch appeared, still sweaty and exhausted, Violet took off running.

"ARCH!"

His entire face broke into a grin. He scooped her up effortlessly.

"Hey, bug."

"We won!"

"We did."

"You were amazing!"

He laughed.

"Thanks."

Then his eyes found mine over her shoulder. Softening instantly. The same way they always did.

"You okay?" he asked.

It was a simple question. But somehow he knew exactly what he was asking. Not about the game. Not about the crowd. About all of it. I smiled. A real one.

"Yeah."

His expression relaxed immediately.

"Yeah?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

And for the first time, I meant it.