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cheesiedomino · 2 months

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RentABoyfriend.com ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: you’re tired of being single so you to take an unusual route in helping with that— but what happens when you start catching real romantic feelings for your rental boyfriend?

genre: seo changbin x fem!reader | fake relationship/dating au wc: 5.1k tags/warnings: fluff, v minor angst, mild cursing, (kinda) nerdy changbin, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol usage, just overall very cute story dw <33

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“I have a date tomorrow guys.”

Everyone’s head instantly lifts up from their phones at this sudden announcement, collectively drawing their attention at you. You weren’t expecting all of them to gasp and swap such looks of genuine confusion. It’s starting to make you think maybe this situation was a lot more serious than you’ve bargained it out to be.

You couldn’t fathom it either honestly, the realization of you going out with someone probably won’t settle in until you’re physically on the date. Based on their initial responses though, you might regret everything you’re about to say, but it’s far too late to retract any of your statements now.

“No way.. with who??” Danielle is the first out of everyone to ask.

Taehyung chimes in as well, “Yeah, who’s the lucky person? They’ve gotta be something seriously special to be talking to you.”

Well, you suppose you could put it that way.

You already have a preconceived notion of what they’re going to think of this “idea”. Mentally preparing yourself to receive a flood of questions and critique from your close friends.

“Actually… I rented him. For the week.”

Now they’re all looking at you like you’ve officially lost it. The room got scarily quiet, no one wanted to be the first to speak. You should’ve anticipated on their reactions being like this, it isn’t everyday someone just openly admits to buying a partner online. Nowadays there’s a lucrative market for just about anything, when you stumbled upon an ad for this service called ‘RentABoyfriend.com’ you didn’t think much of it. You laughed the concept off at first, thinking how lonely people must be to buy someone else’s time.

But the ads kept popping up, they wouldn’t stop showing in almost every YouTube video you were watching— even one of your favorite YouTubers promoted them before! So one day you finally decided to check this website out, you wanted to see what the hype’s all about so you signed up just for shits and giggles. You weren’t expecting to actually be somewhat interested in trying this thing out, but after going through a couple different profiles and reading hundreds of positive reviews you were practically sold.

“You rented out a boyfriend..? Seriously ___? I mean, I’m not judging but you’re a gorgeous girl you can easily get a boyfriend without paying for someone’s companionship, I don’t see why you need to rent one.” Mark bluntly expressed his opinion, he was probably the most outspoken out of all of you guys.

Taehyung and Danielle both agreed in unison, it’s practically 3 against 1 at this point. You knew you should’ve waited to tell them but you weren’t anticipating on them being this judgmental about it. You were hoping for a little more support, as they’re all way more experienced than you in the dating scene and could lend some helpful advice about your first date, ever.

See, the thing is you’ve never tried dating before so you wouldn’t know the first thing about it or what to expect from your future partner. You’ve never had a boyfriend, let alone held hands or kissed someone of the opposite sex. Being in your twenties it’s kind of embarrassing to say you’ve never done those things, but you thought what better way to try it out than renting a full-on experience that can give you just that? Well minus the kissing part, but you can make it work.

You were skeptical of doing this whole ‘rent-a-boyfriend’ thing at first because you didn’t think there’d be anyone you’d find suitable enough. A big part of the reason that you’re still single is because you’re extremely picky, you want to date a guy who’s so perfect that he must’ve came straight out of an indie romance film. Your friends would tease you for having such unrealistic standards when it came to dating but you were the all-or-nothing type, you’ll be single with fifty cats before you settle for less. Renting a boyfriend is definitely an unconventional idea of easing into dating but you thought it might be worth a try anyway.

What’s the worse that could happen?

( 1 day earlier )

Hovering your cursor over the bold red text of the website, you read over the main rules before going on to select the person you want for your date.

‘The rules are simple:

You are allowed to see only ONE person at a time, if you want to switch boyfriends you’ll have to pay a $50 fee.

MUST be over 18 to rent a boyfriend, we have implemented an age verification system before the date as we do not tolerate anyone under this age to use our services.

NO kissing, or sexual intimacy allowed. If this is found out later on by our agency we will terminate your contract and ban you from using our services in the future.

Remember to have fun !! ^_^ Our services are great for people who are new to dating or have never been in a relationship. We provide the ~ultimate~ boyfriend experience to all our clients. Customer satisfaction is 100% guaranteed ! (NO REFUNDS)’

Well jeez… they seemed a bit strict but you can deal with those rules and restrictions for the most part.

After hours of skimming through hundreds of profiles, you have a hard time choosing which you like most. Did you want an artsy, shy kind of guy? The tattooed, bad boy aesthetic type? You really couldn’t pick one until you stumble upon a particular profile that catches your eye almost immediately.

SEO CHANGBIN | 168 CM | PART-TIME LIFEGUARD | 24 | *POPULAR ↝

5 Facts About Me: I’ve traveled to over 50+ different countries and counting (ask me which my favorites are), I can speak 4 languages (working on my fifth), love to sing and used to have a rap trio with my buddies from college, I can & will easily lift you up ;) also have a secret talent for cooking, there’s nothing I can’t do!

Why Choose Me? First of all, why not choose me? I’m the best candidate for whatever kind of date you need, something casual, social gatherings, weddings, you name it! I’m very social and can make most people laugh (unless they’re the literal Grinch reincarnated), I’m able to get along well with anyone and just love to have a good time. I hope we can get to know each other and make great memories in the future :)

Going through his pictures you couldn’t believe someone was capable of being this humanely attractive. Don’t even get started on those impeccable muscles either… He really had to sport them in every other one of his photos, wearing the tightest shirts to show the outline of his insanely sculpted frame. You might have just been mesmerized from his godlike visuals alone. They even had a Valentine’s Day deluxe package that comes with seven dates in total for half the price, which they specified was for a limited time only.

$600 later you’ve got a full week of dates lined up with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in all your years of living. You should’ve definitely went shopping before considering all this because now you actually have a reason to get dolled up for someone.

You were so nervous about going on this date you almost cancelled last minute out of fear. Typing out several different elaborate paragraphs to Changbin on why you couldn’t make it. You didn’t have his real phone number, it was all through an app facilitated by the rental company that was included in the package. Even though you were feeling overwhelmed and practically shaking with anxiety about meeting up with a guy, you still forced yourself to go anyway. You didn’t just dish out all that money just to not show up and waste his time on top of all that.

Your rental boyfriend texted you the location to meet at, it was near a train station so you both could see each other out in a public open space. The outfit you wore was fairly simple, a black mini skirt with warm tights underneath and a cropped turtleneck sweater. You accessorized the look with some dainty jewelry, a thin scarf, and knee high boots to pull everything together. It wasn’t something you usually wore but you had certain clothes you saved for a special occasion like this.

Upon your arrival, you notice him standing near a vending machine and waves over at you with the biggest smile plastered on his face. You awkwardly wave back, giving a soft smile as you slowly walk up to him. He looks even better in person, you don’t even feel adequate enough to be in such a gorgeous man’s presence. No wonder he’s so popular on the site, he’s practically unreal.

“Hi, you must be ___. It’s so nice to finally meet you, might I add you look really beautiful today, I think you’re making my heart race just by looking at you. Happy Valentine’s Day!” Changbin introduces himself, buttering you up with some sweet compliments before handing you the most insane bouquet of roses you’ve ever seen.

You take the flowers and almost stumble backwards from how heavy they were, “Wow, thank you!” Changbin prevents you from falling, quickly coming up behind you to get your balance back.

“Careful honey, can’t have you injured on our first date!” He voices with concern, “I hope you love the idea I came up with, I’ve only been to this place once before but I’m sure it’s still as fun as I remember it, let’s go!” Eagerly grabbing your hand to begin the journey, he turns around again to examine your body language.

“You seem a little tense babe? Do you need a massage?” He asks in a concerned tone again, this is all really beginning to freak you out. You know this is what you signed up for but this was all starting to feel a bit too personal, all the nicknames and sweet talk he’s giving is just something you aren’t used to.

“Uh, no! It’s o-okay.” You shook your head, denying anything suspicious going on. Truth be told you were barely able to contain your composure right now.

Changbin keeps on insisting, “The massage is included in the package so you don’t have to worry about getting charged extra.”

“N-no it’s okay, really. I’m just nervous that’s all, sorry I just don’t meet up with guys…” you shyly admit, finding it hard to look him in the eye.

He nods in understanding, “No need to be nervous with me sweetheart. I’m here to make you feel as comfortable as possible.” The smile he flashes at you instantly makes you warm on the inside, he seems like a genuine, caring person. You think things might go well for you after all.

The rest of the night was full of only good vibes and laughter by the end of it all. Changbin took you to an adult arcade that had old video games like Pac-Man, Super Mario, and Space Invaders, the other side was a bar where people could sit, drink, and socialize. He bought all your drinks that night, let you use up most of his tokens and overall had the most fun you could’ve ever had with someone. He was so easygoing but also knew when to act super caring and would be all lovey dovey with you. He was gentle, nurturing, and could have conversations about anything. You loved that he’d randomly drop some interesting fact you never knew about, or talked about a certain niche topic that he’d go on multiple rants over. It didn’t feel like you were renting someone out to date you, it felt natural— like you’ve known him for longer than a couple hours. Changbin walked you home and held your hand the entire time, along with the flowers he provided a teddy bear and a heart shaped box of chocolates. If that didn’t scream boyfriend goals then you don’t know what does.

The next day you wake up to Changbin blowing your phone up this morning. You had over 26 messages from him, which was pretty excessive in your humble opinion. The first thing he said was good morning then he goes on to express how fun yesterday was and he can’t wait to do it again. He even sent a couple mirror selfies of him at the gym, ‘conceited much?’ You thought. But then again, if you were Seo Changbin you’d probably be full of yourself too.

For today’s date you wore a pretty red sundress that made your skin glow in the sunlight. It’ll definitely get him to compliment you even more— which you secretly love when he does. Changbin calls you before he heads out to the date, letting you know how excited he is to see you again. You couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot on the train as you made your way to the destination, thinking about what he’s planned for you two next. This time you’ll be meeting up at a park but you still have no clue what you’re doing.

Changbin texts you where exactly he is in the park, it was pretty huge so it took you a while to get to him. As you get closer you see him sitting on a large blanket by the lake, on top of it were a bunch of different foods and snacks scattered all around that came out of a huge picnic basket. You were speed walking at this point trying to get to him. His arms opened out for a hug and you lean right into him, what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly stand up and lift you in his arms to swing around you like a doll.

“Put me down I’m scared of heights!” You squeal out in fear of being too high up in the air. Maybe you really should’ve taken the bio on his profile more seriously when he mentioned certain things.

Finally putting you down after minutes go by of you protesting, Changbin sits you back onto the blanket. He brought an assortment of breads, cheese, fruits, lemonade that he made himself and a couple seltzers. You’ve never seen anyone put such time and effort into a date before, even being here with him is like living in a daydream. He was definitely succeeding in making you feel comfortable, which is something you never thought was possible with men. He actually took his time getting to know you and didn’t sound arrogant whenever he talked about himself, Changbin was so different than other guys who’ve tried hitting on you in the past. He was actually respectful, intelligent, and could easily carry a conversation without long, awkward pauses.

He was literally everything you’re looking for in a guy. But you’ll be seeing him for this week only then it’s bye bye forever. That revelation makes you a little upset, but you try pushing those thoughts in the back of your mind. It’s irrelevant and unnecessary to think about. Yet you can’t help but wonder about certain things though, wanting to know more about his job and what it’s like on a daily basis for him.

“Can I ask you something? I need you to answer it honestly.” You say out of nowhere, hoping that didn’t come out as weird as you thought.

Changbin nods, “of course, shoot.”

“How many clients do you usually get?”

This question definitely catches him off guard, he’s never really been asked this before and he’s debating on if he should as it might be a breach of privacy.

“I don’t think I can answer that, sorry.” He responds in the nicest way possible, but deep down he wants to know why you’d want to know how many other people he sees a day.

You were going to push him a bit more to try and get an answer but you decide to let it go and just enjoy the rest of the picnic. You didn’t want to bring the mood down with your odd questions and/or end up making him feel so uncomfortable that he won’t want to see you anymore. It was definitely something you shouldn’t have asked but you were curious to know anyway. Overall besides that small incident, you had another wonderful time with Changbin and couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come any faster.

Changbin had a foolproof way of getting you to blush like a giddy high school teen whenever he texted you. He’d always refer to you as ‘pretty girl’ or ‘princess’ which gave you insane amount of butterflies. You loved how clingy he could get and would double text when you don’t reply fast enough, always needing constant attention from you which you never minded giving.

He texted you at around three in the afternoon, proposing his next plan for today’s date.

‘Let’s go out for drinks tonight, it’s all on me ;)’

You liked his message, replying that you’ll be there and put a series of hearts at the end. Speaking of hearts, yours is fluttering at high altitudes from the way you can’t stop thinking about your “boyfriend” Changbin. This has been better than anything you could’ve expected, you never want this week to come to an end. It’s only been three days but you’ve begun to grow feelings for him, they weren’t too strong just yet but they were most definitely there. You couldn’t let that halt you from having a good time tonight, you’ll have to accept it soon enough he’s not your actual boyfriend. He’s doing this because you paid him to, if it wasn’t for your money he wouldn’t be here right now.

‘This relationship is purely transactional’ you unfortunately keep reminding yourself of the reality you’re in. Psyching yourself out of this sudden somber mood that’s consuming you, distracting your pessimism by raiding your closet for some cute clothes to wear tonight’s date. After what seemed like hours of tearing your entire room apart, you decide to settle on this sparkly black mini tube dress, pairing it with a leather jacket and more platform shoes because you’re obsessed with feeling tall. Once it’s 7 PM you head out to the bar you’re seeing Changbin at, he was already waiting for you inside the place. Eyes instantly lighting up when he sees you coming towards him, just like he always does he motions for a hug, pulling you in tightly like he hasn’t seen you in years.

His hugs felt so cozy, like sitting in front of the fireplace on a crisp, snowy winter’s evening. You never wanted to escape the warmth of his arms, it was one of those forms of physical touch that felt so overly personal to you. The thought of him hugging someone the same way he hugs you slightly enrages something in your spirit but again, it isn’t your place to get genuinely upset over him doing his job. You’re not entitled to him exclusively, but you feel like if you keep this up feelings will only continue to develop. This wasn’t something you considered when going into this and now you feel like you’ve just made a huge mistake.

“You okay babe?” Changbin notices you acting a bit strange, choosing not to pursue it after telling him you’re fine. He knows something’s wrong but doesn’t want to mess up the flow of the date, instead he orders a drink for the both of you and switches on to a lighter subject. “Let’s go shopping tomorrow at that new centre that just opened last week. I need to buy some new AirPods, I accidentally lost one of them in a taxi..”

“Sure,” you nod at his suggestion, in desperate need of some new clothes anyway. “Sorry about your AirPods, that sucks!”

He takes a sip of his bubbly drink that’s now on the table, “Eh, it’s okay this is probably the fourth time this has happened so far.” This has pretty much become a regular occurrence for him by now.

As the date progresses, things continue getting better. You’re both laughing, engaging in much deeper conversation than ever before. You definitely had more than enough alcohol in your system by now, feeling congested and claustrophobic as more people came into the bar. Changbin takes note of your discomfort and asks if you want to get some fresh air outside, you wasted absolutely no time to agree.

While you two were outside continuing your chat about some wild conspiracy he read about online, Changbin’s attention was soon drawn to a different building nearby. Gazing up in confusion at his sudden outburst of excitement, you wonder where he could be leading you next.

“Noraebang!” He shouts loud enough anyone miles away could’ve heard that, he’s now grabbing your hand to frantically drag you along with him.

You were never one to carry a tune but Changbin was actually very good at karaoke and singing in general, he had such a lovely voice. You could seriously listen to him sing all night— which you basically did since you kept begging for an encore until it hit 4 am. That’s when you both decided to finally call it a night, you wanted to pay for the Uber since he’s paid for all the drinks and every other expenses for today. You felt bad because you were the one renting him to be your boyfriend yet he’s constantly shelling out money left and right. He still insisted on paying and ultimately won the whole debacle, making you swallow your pride and get into the Uber with him. Changbin’s definitely not just someone you’re going to forget about after this week is over. You dread the day this all comes to an end, wishing there was a way to relive these moments again and again.

“I’m a little under the weather today, sorry I can’t make it Binnie.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing and unbearable throat pain. You’ve already consumed half a bag of cough drops, throat lozenges, and random cold medicine you’ve found in your cabinets.

He sounds mildly disappointed, but springs back up with a new proposal, “I can come over and bring some soup if you’d like!”

You appreciate his gesture but still refuse, you know he’s only saying all this because he has to, not because he wants to. “N-no you don’t have to, I’m sure you can go see other clients today. One less person to worry about right?”

The call went silent for a minute, he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to such a deprecating comment.

“I don’t want to see other clients, I want to see you ___.” He sighs, unwilling to give up so easily, “I’ll be at your place soon, m’kay?” He hangs up before you could even respond or say no again.

You had no choice but to wait for Changbin to show up now. Before you got sick, the last two dates you went on were debatably the best so far. You had gone out shopping together, accidentally wearing almost the same kind of outfit. Changbin was wearing a white graphic tee with blue baggy jeans and you wore something practically identical. The two of you looked like a real, official couple and people would stare as you walked hand in hand, it really did seem like the perfect relationship on the outside.

You got even closer when he came over the following day, resulting in you two cuddling while watching movies and baking cookies. He’s expressed that he’s never been to another client’s home before but it wasn’t “technically” against any rules. The more you kept hanging out together, the harder it was coming to terms with the fact you’re actually falling for Changbin. He made every experience with you more exciting than the last, which he did exactly that night. When the cookies were done you fed a piece to him, making little airplane sounds as you do it, he eagerly takes a bite of the chewy treat and compliments both your efforts.

“These taste way better than I thought, oh my god they literally melt in your mouth. Try it!” He takes another cookie from the tray and feeds it to you this time.

There was something so overly domestic about that moment you couldn’t shake the feelings of wanting to kiss him right then and there. But you can’t. If you did such a thing you’d never be allowed to see him again, plus you don’t want to be known as that one creepy client who just couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. As you were cuddling on the couch though, things may have taken a turn for the better… or worse?

Changbin would “yawn” at the movie and subtly wrap his arm around you, he’d subconsciously pull you in closer and it didn’t make it any better that you were under the same blanket. You weren’t complaining at any of this though, you were pretty much in heaven. It took everything in you not to look up and stare, gluing your eyes to the movie that was displayed on the TV. But as the night progressed you were practically snuggling up with him like he was your real boyfriend. The way he’d run his fingers gently down your back, soothing you in a way that could lull you asleep. His touch was the most relaxing thing ever, you were so calm with him and loved how he brought a side of you that’s never been shown. After this encounter you can no longer deny the way you feel— you are officially falling deeply in love your rental boyfriend, Seo Changbin.

The sound of your doorbell ringing alarms you of a new visitor, who was none other than your “boyfriend” waiting patiently outside the door for you. You feel and look like death itself, coming downstairs to answer the door still in your PJ’s and hair a disheveled mess. Every five seconds was interrupted with you coughing your lungs out, barely able to speak above a whisper. Changbin looks thrilled as ever to see you, even when you clearly don’t look your best he’s still coming up to hug you tightly. His hugs are always blocking off your airways from the way his muscles squeeze you, it’s even worse when you’re sick— practically gasping for air.

“Sorry babyy, I just missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and soon as you said you’re sick I dropped everything to go make you this soup. It’s a specialty I make whenever my friends are sick, the perfect remedy to cure my princess.” He goes into your kitchen to heat up the soup in your microwave, making you wait patiently on the couch as you’re wrapped up in multiple blankets.

Your body feels like it’s -2 degrees, you were freezing. The crazy thing is your thermostat was set to 80 degrees, it was definitely you that was the problem. He propped your feet up on the table, rested a tray in your lap and set the bowl of soup on top. Brushing a couple strands of hair out your face he looks at you intently, examining your symptoms as if he’s a doctor.

“It’ll be okay soon love, I’m here to nurse you back to health again. Can’t see my pretty baby sick like this, makes me all sad.” He pouts, giving you a soft head pat like you’re a delicate kitten.

He takes a spoonful of the hot soup, slightly blowing on it before telling you to open up so you can eat. You don’t know what’s gotten into you but you feel like he’s gone too far with all this. It’s not fair for you to continue on if it’s just become torture now. He’s practically dangling in your face that you’ll never have a partner as perfect as him in your life.

“I- I can’t do this anymore Changbin..” you say lowly, refusing to eat the soup he made.

“What do you mean? I’m just feeding you soup, it’s my duty as your boyfriend to-”

“This isn’t real… none of it is. I’m stupid for even doing this but I was lonely.. I’m sorry but I’d prefer something that isn’t temporary.” You cut him off to express your pent up frustrations, ready to be let down and rejected by him as gently as possible.

“Then let’s make it real,” he proposes without any hesitation, “honestly I stopped faking it around our third date, it was all me after that. I never said anything because well… this is my job and I’ve never fallen for a client before so this is still all very new to me..”

You’d be screaming right now if you weren’t sick, instead you’re internally freaking out at this confession, it feels like your hearts doing cartwheels and somersaults.

“Seriously?” Eyes widening as you look at him, suddenly your body heat rises and you know it’s not because of the soup or the layers of blankets that’s covering you.

He nods, “I thought it was kinda obvious when we kissed yesterday..”

Oh yeah… you forgot that did happen. You thought it was another fever dream you might’ve just made up in your head. You shared your first kiss with someone you deemed so special and important to you, someone you never would’ve guessed could come into your life and shift the entirety of your world like magic. There was no one else in existence you wanted more than Changbin.

“Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to quit your job? I don’t want to be the reason you stop making such good income.. I’ll feel so bad.” You knew deep down you didn’t feel that badly about him quitting to date you instead. It was just the thought of him leaving something he’s been doing for years behind all for some girl he’s known for simply a week.

He shrugs at your comment, “I’ll be just fine, I was planning on finding a new job soon anyway. It gets kinda old after a while, I felt like I was on autopilot most of the time. You were able to get me to open up and show my true self, I could never thank you enough for that ___.” Changbin couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss to your forehead.

After everything that’s been said and done. What you’ve come to understand is that love is learned, a development that takes time to grow and blossom into something extraordinary. Just like learning a new language or a musical instrument, we learn love from society and cultures we’re raised in, it’s a beautiful thing once we know how to cherish it. Your newfound romance with Changbin is something you’ll learn to cherish forever and ever.

[End <3].

#skz fluff #skz x reader #changbin fluff #seo changbin fluff #stray kids imagines #skz drabbles #changbin x reader #changbin skz #changbin x female reader #seo changbin x reader #stray kids fluff #changbin scenarios #changbin drabbles #changbin imagines #skz au #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #skz imagines

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sophiethewitch1 · 4 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

1K notes · View notes

euaphoric · 7 months

Text

🕸️ KINKTOBER - DAY 1. 🕸️

Show You What Devotion Is . . .

[PAIRING] jungkook x f!reader

[GENRE] bf/gf, established relationship, pwp [WARNINGS] fluff, smut, small mentions of insecurities, body worship, devotion kink, face-sitting, biting, spit kink (sorta, kinda?)

summary: you don’t think you’re good enough for your boyfriend but he proves those thoughts wrong by showing just how much undying love he truly has for you.

wc -> 2.0k

A/N: first post of the month, 30 more to go woohoo~ so excited to do this and hopefully this’ll help me get a better idea of what i like/don’t like writing in the future. **fyi oc is told that she tastes like candy but obvi in the real world if ur hoo-ha tastes like candy that’s not normal .. o_O buttt this is fiction so just pretend they can sjdjfjsjjs.

kinktober m.list

this day simply couldn’t get any worse. you missed the bus back home just by a fraction of a minute, all because you wanted to speak with your professor at his office hours but now in hindsight, you wished you never did. it was practically a waste of time anyway, he wasn’t giving much worthy feedback on your presentation and the anxiety about your final grade grew rampant as the semester progressed. ‘fuck, guess’ll wait for the next one in 15’ you mumble to yourself, annoyed and exhausted from earlier’s events. one side of you just wants to call jungkook to come pick you up but your other subconscious is telling you that’s selfish— don’t make him drive all the way here when you can just wait a measly 15 more minutes.

sigh~

it won’t kill you to wait, it’s not like you were in a rush to see him right now. it was actually quite the opposite, you weren’t prepared to tell him how you completely bombed your presentation. well, you wouldn’t say completely but it definitely wasn’t up to your impossibly high standards. public speaking was the only class you struggled with the most, you could articulate your words precisely in writing but saying it out loud? that was a totally different story. you have to outgrow this “fear” over speaking in front of an audience if you want to practice law one day. no one’s going to take you seriously if you can’t even read a single paragraph without tripping over syllables. all you could do was replay those embarrassing moments and internally cringe, almost missing the bus again from being so deep in thought— what a nightmare.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

“baaabyyyy!” the sweet sound of jungkook’s voice instantly made everything better, at least for now. his peachy soft lips went straight to your face almost immediately, smothering you with dozens of kisses while caging his beautiful, toned arms around your willowed frame. “you came home so late, was expectin’ you half an hour agooo.” he whines immaturely, holding you so tight he’s nearly squeezing you at this point. he must’ve really missed you. “i missed the bus… i wanted to talk with my professor about my presentation and thought i could make it but i guess not..” you pause, thinking if you should share what’s really crossing your mind, “…i was gonna call you to pick me up but didn’t think it was worth all that hassle.” now hearing yourself say that out loud makes it seem like he isn’t a reliable boyfriend, he very much is, it’s just the over-thinker in you. it’ll mark your 2 years of dating next week yet somehow you still felt like you were burdening him at times.

if the embodiment of ‘???’ was a person, that would be jungkook right about now; he couldn’t fathom you thinking such unlawful things. “hassle? what’re you talking about love, nothing is a hassle for me when it comes to you, absolutely nothing. next time you need me don’t hesitate to call babe,” he reassures sincerely. loosening his embrace momentarily to turn you around, he brings your chests together while his hands wrap your pretty waist, feeling his rapid heartbeat against yours. “i’m serious, you better call me next time.” the sternness of his voice alarming you that he’ll probably lecture you for this. he texts you hourly just to check in and make sure you’re okay, a simple drive to pick you up is the bare minimum to him. “well besides that.. how’d your presentation go?” jungkook’s doe-like eyes widen as he interrogates with questions. “i don’t wanna talk about it.” you silently mutter, already dreading what the final grades were going to be. “that bad, huh?” he proceeds with even more questions, “did you remember like we practiced last night?” you nod, lowering your head to stare at the floor, confidence dwindling by the second.

it truly hurts him to see you upset over something you’ve worked so passionately on, all just for it to feel ruined in the end. he hates that you’re not your usual bubbly and cute self, it makes him do everything he can to cheer you up. “it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it now, i get it. you probably did well though, i bet you messed up like one time and no one even noticed ‘cause you’re so pretty!” he teases, inked, slender digits trail up to find solace on your chin, lifting your head up to face each other again. “stop stressing over dumb little imperfections, it never ends well.” “oh, you’re one to talk!” you whine into his chest, unable to deal with his hypocrisy. not jungkook of all people giving you this speech when he is literally the #1 perfectionist king. “and i’m not even that pretty..” you quietly mumble, hoping he wouldn’t catch that. “wait, what did you just say?!” his voice raised an octave of confusion, you would think someone had just told him the most horrific story, but no, here he is on the verge of a mental breakdown over his girlfriend feeling insecure. “i said i’m not that—” “no no, i heard you the first time. my brain just isn’t registering the fact that you don’t think you’re anything less than a walking goddess of this earth.” he was flabbergasted to hear you talk with such low confidence, “sometimes, i feel like you can do so much better..” that’s what fully broke his heart as you spoke, it pained him to know you harbored all these feelings deep down inside.

the only answer in solving this dilemma is by being a better boyfriend to you, showering you with even more compliments than he already does daily, and most importantly, proving that he is 100% devoted to you and you only.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

eyes half-lidded in lust, limbs spasming and going numb from the continuous stimulation, you can’t do much but moan out jungkook’s name on an endless loop. the first hour, jungkook took his heavenly time with your delicate, angelic body. everything about you is divine to him, he wants to appreciate every single inch of you, even the parts you despise. he dedicated his lips to kissing and pleasuring your whole body, leaving no surface of you untouched. he’d rave in between kisses about how beautiful you are, how lucky he is and how he’s willing to do anything to make you happy. if being love-drunk was a disease, he’d rather fall into a coma and never wake up than find the cure. he’s living his best life as he cherishes your innate beauty, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs as he reaches them, taking ample time to caress and praise your dreamy body. he’s always had a thing for your cute plush thighs, the way they’d bounce and jiggle when he plays with them makes him all giddy inside. he can never get enough of them or you, leaving numerous bite marks and coating them with his spit, “you’re a work of art princess, a masterpiece. don’t think any different.” jungkook murmured against you, voice laced with pure seduction and infatuation.

body buzzing in anticipation as he kept working his way up, leaving a chaste peck to your left and right hip bone, firmly gripping your thighs as he drags his lips to your center. the urge to make out with your cunt was insatiable for him, he needed his face buried between your legs, there was no place he’d rather be. “after this you’re gonna use my face as your throne and m’gonna give you the most mind blowing orgasm, capeesh?” jungkook props his head up for a second before kissing below your belly button. “c-capeeshh.” you hazily reply, mind still fuzzy from just his kisses and touch alone. you know you’re in for a wild ride whenever you sit on your boyfriend’s face, he always eats you like a starved man and makes sure you cum multiple times, he takes such pride in himself for having you be a twitching and moaning mess by the end of it all. his only goal and mission for the night was to make you feel so good that you reach your climax hard enough to see memories of your life flash before your eyes. as he made his way up to your waist, you melt into his warmth, craving him more and more as time goes on. you thought you felt your soul leave your body when he unsuspectingly attaches his mouth to your nipple, babbling nothing coherent as you rut your hips into nothing.

as much as jungkook wanted to keep the teasing going, he was so down bad to have you sit on his face in this moment, ready to show exactly how much love and obsession he has for you. “need you so bad babe.. need to taste you,” he sighs, shamelessly gawking over you as he maneuvers you on top. “you’re so fuckin’ sexy mama... would love to be in between these pretty thighs for the rest of my life.” you couldn’t help but blush at his dirty talk, feeling flustered as you slide off your damp polka dot panties, watching as he licks his lips, planning to devour you whole. jungkook was so excited, you’re always scared of hurting him whenever you sit on his face but he reassures you often that he’ll be fine, “you’re not gonna kill me babe, trust me. even if you did i think it’d be sick to put ‘died from too much pussy juice’ on my gravestone anyway.” he lightly jokes, never taking anything in the slightest bit serious. you position your lower half, hovering over his face as he stares directly at your wetness. the tent in his boxers only surged, he was so hopelessly attracted to you, he could cum just from giving you head.

“fuuuu- oh my god so good, so good! yess, keep going babyy..” your legs shake violently as you rock your hips back and forth, rendering a steady motion against your boyfriend’s soothing tongue. as you throw your head back in pleasure and delight, jungkook grips onto your thighs for dear life, using every bit of manpower he possessed in making sure you don’t move away. “mmmhh~” he’d hum into your sensitive, eliciting the harmonious moans he loves to hear every night. you clutch onto the floral sheets of the bed, hand full of jet-black hair in the other. “mmm.. taste so sweet for me..” he grunts against your dripping core, “like candy..” a few more sloppy licks then he’s back to aggressively sucking your clit. you were grinding his face with more speed and didn’t care as much about hurting him anymore, if he really was uncomfortable he’d speak up. jungkook would never do that though, you are his goddess and he wants this night to be all about pleasing you. “uhhh, t-think m’gonna cum..” you felt that familiar knot in your tummy, hips subconsciously rutting faster into his mouth as eyes roll to the back of your head. you couldn’t tell much of his condition below you but his stamina never slowed, eating you out with everlasting hunger as his grip refuses to unravel. “cum for me princess, please.” his encouraging words help reach your high, feeling a whole new state of nirvana as your chest heaves, “fuck, jungkook, i love you!” you cry out, clenching around his tongue as he licks every crevice of you clean. the room spun around as you catch your breath, having trouble regaining your balance for a split second.

you droop down onto your heavy panting boyfriend’s chest, lightly sticking to his dewy skin from all the built up sweat. “sooo, how’re you feeling now compared to earlier? did it work? are all your insecurities vanished and gone now?” he’s back to his normal self again, asking his little series of questions. you giggle, “i feel great koo, definitely helped me relax..” flashing a warm smile as he reaches out for you to cuddle, “i must’ve done some life-changing shit in my past lives to deserve someone as good as you.”

#kinktober 2023 #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x f reader #jungkook fic #bts fics #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabbles

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pandoraslxna · 1 year

Text

⋆｡° ✮ Specials:

Lunas Kinktober 2023

Avatar: 12 Days of Kinkmas 2023

Romancing Pandora 2024

Avatar: Mating Season 2024

— ❝ Who’s the mighty warrior? Come on, say it. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ The heat that spreads

Neteyam is more than happy to help you out when you are in heat.

⋆｡° ✮ Lost and found (mini series)

Neteyam hates humans. One day, he finds you all alone and lost in the forest, but quickly decides against killing you. What might be the odd reason for that?

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4

⋆｡° ✮ Three is always unfortunate

(Stepbro!Neteyam AU) Neteyam is ready to do everything in his might to protect his precious little sister. Especially from mean boys that can’t keep their hands to themselves.

⋆｡° ✮ Not good enough

(Stepbro!Neteyam AU) Neteyam isn’t happy about the future mate his parents have chosen for you. Afterall, no one can compare to him.

⋆｡° ✮ Work of art

You’re an artist and Neteyam accidentally finds your secret notebook, full of filthy drawings you’ve made to cope with the little crush you had on him.

⋆｡° ✮ Special friends (mini series)

Neteyam was so used to being the golden child of his family, always doing as he’s told… he wanted to be bad sometimes too. He wanted to be the one that would teach you all these filthy things. All the things you were never allowed to do, talk or even think about.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

⋆｡° ✮ Competitive hate

When you compete, it’s always a battle to see who will get the upper hand. And when you fuck, it’s the same struggle.

⋆｡° ✮ Drunk words, sober secrets

Getting drunk with Ao‘nung was probably not the best idea you ever had. Good thing a certain someone always makes sure you‘ll get home safe and sound.

⋆｡° ✮ Infected

(Stepbro!Neteyam AU) While on a hunt with your stepbrother Neteyam, he comes in contact with something that makes him act… strange.

⋆｡° ✮ A lesson on concentration

(featuring Neytan) Lately, you can’t seem to focus on any of your training lessons in preparation for your upcoming iknimaya and your karyu [teacher] are determined to find out why.

⋆｡° ✮ Unwinding together

Neteyam seems quite tense lately, and like the good friend that you are, you offer him a way to relief all of his stress.

⋆｡° ✮ Feral hearts

There is always a thrill to the chase.

⋆｡° ✮ Sweet dreams

(Stepbro!Neteyam AU) It’s date night, the marui is quiet and Neteyam has you all to himself.

⋆｡° ✮ A mighty warriors need

The only trouble Neteyam allows himself to get into, is you.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Neteyam loves when you wear short dresses

Some sneaky under the table action

Dom!Neteyam edging himself

How he would celebrate your birthday

Discovering that the word "sir" turns him on

He makes you squirt for the first time

Neteyam learns what a lollipop is

Stepbro!Neteyam + cockwarming

Distracting him when he’s grumpy

Possessive / toxic Neteyam

Public make out session with Neteyam while your mate is busy looking for you

Free use kink

Forming an alliance with So‘lek

— ❝ Sorry, I don’t speak english to assholes. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Bittersweet revenge

Ever since the day Lo‘ak had found out that you’ve chosen to rescue your father, the man that basically murdered Neteyam and made his whole life hell, he was out for revenge.

⋆｡° ✮ Movie night

(Stepbro!Lo’ak AU) Lo’ak can’t keep his hands to himself. Not even during movie night.

⋆｡° ✮ Sharing is caring

(featuring Spider) Sometimes, all you need is a good friend who is willing to share.

⋆｡° ✮ The Fall

It was like falling off a cliff. A slow, steady fall and then the blinding crash. But in reality, a fall would’ve hurt less. Less than this.

⋆｡° ✮ Close ain’t close enough

Even though your relationship was still fairly new, you couldn’t stop overthinking how certain things could even work out, between a human and a Na‘vi.

⋆｡° ✮ Want, get, have.

Lo‘ak takes advantage of the little crush he knows the olo’eyktan’s spoiled daughter habors for him. That is, until you finally decide to get payback for all his teasing.

⋆｡° ✮ Addicted to you

The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret. The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Sub!Lo‘ak

Edging Sub!Lo‘ak

Edging till he’s crying

He makes you sit on his face

Free use kink

— ❝ The most dangerous thing about pandora is that you may grow to love her too much. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Polar opposite

(featuring Tonowari) There’s no plot. Just two dilfs working together.

⋆｡° ✮ Stress relief

(featuring Tonowari) After a whole day spent on an unsuccessful hunt, the two olo’eyktan’s return to their home frustrated and stressed. But thankfully, their favorite little stress relief toy is already happily waiting for them.

⋆｡° ✮ Double trouble

(featuring Miles Quaritch) The Colonel had send you on a mission to get information out of Jake Sully, but things take a different turn than what you were expecting. Not that you mind.

⋆｡° ✮ Pent up and stressed out

Jake knows just the way to help you relief some of that pent up frustration.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Jake makes some interesting discoveries about his new avatar body

Tits or ass?

Jake fucking loves your boobs. He loves fucking them too

Marking you as his

— ❝ I’ll be nice once. Then I won’t. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Sinner and saint

Quaritch has captured you, the oldest daughter of Jake Sully, and made it his personal goal to draw every bit of useful information out of you.

⋆｡° ✮ Listen to me

The cute newbie of his squad enjoys late night activities way too much, keeping Miles up every single night since she moved into the quarters next to his room.

⋆｡° ✮ Helping hands

Quaritch has to escort one of the most annoying scientists he’s ever met, into the depth of pandoras forest, just so she can study some weird looking plants. Surely, it couldn’t get worse than that, right?

⋆｡° ✮ Double trouble

(featuring Jake Sully) The Colonel had send you on a mission to get information out of Jake Sully, but things take a different turn than what you were expecting. Not that you mind.

⋆｡° ✮ Sweet like cherry (mini series)

Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6

⋆｡° ✮ Classified briefing

Briefings can be so boring. Luckily, Quaritch has his favorite little lap warmer with him to make to whole thing so much more entertaining.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Quaritch loves your ass

How does he eat pussy?

Thigh riding

Corrupting you and then turning you into his little cum dump

— ❝ If you want to live here, you have to ride. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ My dearly detested

Ao‘nung has had enough of that smart little mouth of yours.

⋆｡° ✮ Mine to tease

It’s one thing when Ao’nung bullies you. It’s a complete different thing when someone else dares to lay their hands on you.

⋆｡° ✮ Under control

(Stepbro!Ao’nung AU) Ao‘nung really thought that he could restrain himself when it came to you. But of course you had to test his self control and challenge him in the worst way possible…

⋆｡° ✮ Too close to the sun

(Featuring Neteyam) Ao’nung loved you as Icarus loved the sun- too close, too much.

⋆｡° ✮ Ruin me

Ao‘nung thinks he’s no match to any human males and could easily ruin you for all of your kind. Oh, was he wrong about that.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

He‘s a sloppy pussy eater

Mean, bratty Ao‘nun turns into a begging mess for you

— ❝ Sit down. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Polar opposite

(featuring Jake Sully) There’s no plot. Just two dilfs working together.

⋆｡° ✮ Stress relief

(featuring Jake Sully) After a whole day spent on an unsuccessful hunt, the two olo’eyktan’s return to their home frustrated and stressed. But thankfully, their favorite little stress relief toy is already happily waiting for them.

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Cuddles & sex

Sub!Tonowari + size kink

— ❝ You can’t put babies in cryo, dipshit. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Sharing is caring

(featuring Lo‘ak) Sometimes, all you need is a good friend who is willing to share.

⋆｡° ✮ The Na‘vi way

To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. But to dress like one? That was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done.

— ❝ Let’s go, buttercup. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ coming soon!

Teylan:

— ❝ Tinkering with junk is easier than people. People are complicated. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ coming soon!

So‘lek:

— ❝ They were looking for you. They found me. ❞

⋆｡° ✮ Drabbles:

Forming an alliance with Neteyam

Eetu:

— ❝ Call for her! Call for your Ikran! ❞

⋆｡° ✮ coming soon!

#masterlist

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 26 days

Text

American Psycho Killer

Summary: Leon S. Kennedy, a man who’s taken his duty of protection very seriously. He’ll do anything to ensure the safety of people, especially the safety of one particular girl.

Warning: stalking, murdering, mentions of planned murder, mentions of drugs and drug abuse, gore (kinda), death, masturbation (m receiving), smut, creampie, yan!leon, not proofread lol, fem reader, psychopathic.

A/N: I did my research for this as I wanted this to sound a little spooky teehee :3

“I got you under my skin” - Mirotic, TVXQ!

Psychopath vs. Sociopath. The popular argument in between psychologists.

Leon never really cared enough to get himself checked out but there were signs. He didn’t feel empathy for others, his moves were calculated and he’s highly educated. He has a well paying career, he pretends to be this normal guy when in reality, he’s psychopathic.

What defines a psychopath apart from a sociopath? Psychopaths, at least in Leon’s case, cannot form established bonds with others. He doesn’t feel guilt or sad when he sees a person die by his hands.

His job already requires him to kill so this was an easy feat. He doesn’t care. He can’t feel anything.

He couldn’t feel anything until you came along.

Leon lived in this apartment complex just downtown of a city in the state. The apartment was big and had security cameras all around. It was well guarded and the people were kind.

When he saw the new neighbor move in, he felt weird. He narrowed his eyes as he watched you from the window of his apartment loft. He was growing suspicious at his behavior. Why did his chest feel warm? Why is his heart beating fast? Why are his hands sweating?

He didn’t know. Up to this point he didn’t feel anything but you brought something to him and it made him uneasy. So he decided to keep an eye on you.

Days passed after you moved in and you settled just fine. The old lady at the end of the hall brought you cookies, a sweet old lady. She talked to Leon a few times and he didn’t think much of her other than just as his neighbor. Nothing more.

But if you were to ask him what he thought of you? Oh boy, he thought a lot of things. Both good and bad.

Being a psychopath isn’t praised in society. Only 1% of the population is considered one and no one knew he belonged to that percentage. And he’d like to keep it that way; his excuse for his behavior was his job. He always left early in the morning and came back late at night. A manipulator and a liar is what he was, and a very good one.

He’s seen you leave your apartment from time to time. You’d take out the trash, went out with your friends- he’s seen everything you do.

Leon isn’t stupid, he’s attentive and observant. He leaves no trace behind of the murder he just committed. The male neighbor across from your door saw you one day when you walked out of your door with a short dress.

The man eye-fucked you so much he literally almost started drooling. Leon cringed and found him repulsive. How dare he look at you like you were some meat on the market?

He felt anger and disgust. No one should look at you like that. No one.

So, one summer day, he made up an excuse to visit him. Something about a water pipe connecting to his sink that didn’t make it work. Like I said, Leon is a good manipulator and a good liar. He always gets what he wants.

The male neighbor invited him in and closed the door behind him. He offered Leon a beer, to which he refused. He found liquor and other substances repulsive. He walked over to the man’s kitchen sink and began to inspect it.

He noticed the man’s sink had a garbage disposal unit. That’s pretty dangerous, he thought to himself.

He walked over to where the man was sitting. The male neighbor was sitting on his reclining couch as he watched a game with a cup of beer on the stand next to him. The neighbor was so engrossed on the football game that he didn’t notice Leon slipping something into his drink.

Leon was smart. Dangerously smart. He knew everything when it came to death- he worked in the DSO, of course he knew some things. He knew the effects of alprazolam and what it does to the brain.

So when he lied to a psychiatrist about his insomnia and got prescribed some Xanax, he crushed a high dosage into fine powder and slipped it into the man’s beer.

Stupid bastard, Leon thought to himself.

He watched as the male neighbor took a sip of his drink and Leon waited. Xanax is a powerful drug, can cause hallucinations and make your brain become a little too calm. You’re bound to fall asleep at some point. And with the amount Leon dropped into his drink, he knew he’d knock out sooner than later.

After a few minutes of “tinkering” with the man’s sink. He got up and went to check on the man again.

And sure as hell did the man find himself in a profound slumber. His snores layering with the sound of the TV.

Too easy, Leon smirked to himself. He put on some elastic gloves and made sure he wore shoes that wouldn’t leave footprints. In case things would get messy, of course.

He poured the man’s drink down the sink to get rid of the evidence. He then thought hard about how he should go about this.

There’s many different ways one can commit murder but Leon wanted the cleanest one. So he came up with one.

He brought pans to the stove and made it seem like the man was cooking something for himself. He partially cooked a stupid egg and left it there. Leon went back to where the man was sitting and dragged him out of his couch and towards the kitchen. Since this man’s place was small, the kitchen and dining area were joined together. He sat there man down on the dining table, which happened to be near the stove. He took out the man’s phone and put it in the man’s hand to make it seem like he was using it.

Leon went back to the kitchen and continued to prepare the scene. He took out bottles of alcohol the man had and poured them down the drain to make it look like he’d had a few drinks. He took a single cup from the cup rack and filled it up halfway. With the cup and bottle of whiskey in both hands, he walked back to the table where the man was sitting and laid them on the table. He took the half empty cup and smeared the man’s lip on the rim. You must cover every single detail.

He even poured a little alcohol into the man’s already parted lips. Leon walked back to the stoved and kept the gas on. Now all he needed to do was wait and let nature do its thing.

Leon walked out of his apartment, pretending to still be talking to the man since there was a camera on the corner of the hall. As the door opened, the camera couldn’t record that Leon had been talking to himself. It made the act believable.

With a smile, Leon walked back to his place and stayed there.

A few hours passed and it started to get dark outside, each resident was inside their unit and ready to go to sleep when the fire alarm began to sound. Everyone was forced to evacuate the premises as the firefighters came to the scene.

You saw as the ambulance brought out a stretcher into the building. Someone was still inside, you thought to yourself as your eyes widened and your heart rate increased. You tried to move but felt someone’s hand on your arm, it was Leon.

“Don’t. It’s too dangerous,” he replied in a serious tone as he stared at you with those cold blue eyes. You pinched your brows together. He was right. If you were to try and save the person, you’d die in the process. You nodded defeatedly and he let go of your arm. He stood there watching you- analyzing you.

You had a good heart, he thought. Too good for his liking. That made you an easy target for people and he loathed the idea of people exploiting your kindness. He vowed to protect you, to mark his hands dirty for you.

As the EMT brought back the stretcher, you could see a person lying there lifeless. All the other residents immediately started to mutter amongst themselves, some started to cry and others gasped in shock. You simply stood there, wide eyed and jaw slack. Leon’s expression remained unchanged as he watched you react to the man’s death. The man deserved it, he thought to himself.

Couldn’t you see that he was protecting you? You’ll come around eventually, he thought.

As the ambulance left the area, the firefighters started to clear the smoke as the police arrived. The police began to do their investigation as the firefighters checked the unit and deemed it good after clearing out the fire and the smoke. One police officer began to make her way to the apartment as the other stayed behind with the residents to ask questions.

Leon was a smooth talker. A trait most psychopaths had. He could get himself out of any situation and he could lie. So when the police asked him what had happened, Leon simply replied with, “I’m not sure. I went to his apartment to check his water supply as my sink stopped working and he lived next to me. I noticed he was making himself some food but I was too busy checking our pipes. He reeked of alcohol and barely spoke to me,” Leon’s tone was different. He sounded likey he spoke the truth.

You couldn’t help but listen to his words. To you, they are true. You saw him walk out of the man’s apartment.

The investigation was deemed as self-manslaughter. The police believed that the man suffered from deliberate alcohol poisoning which caused him to pass out in the process of cooking himself some food.

This made news headlines. Everyone believed the story but they thought the man was stupid enough to cook while he was drunk. Many of the residents believed it, he was a known alcoholic. Leon was never caught.

He was watching you from the window, months after the incident occurred. You had just come back from your college lecture. Leon knew. He stalked you, he followed you.

He knew your weekly routine. Monday through Thursday you had lectures. On Friday, you did work study. And the weekends were reserved for your personal time. He felt proud of you for balancing your life. You lived healthily and he couldn’t help but feel proud at your decisions. He knew you were smart enough to take care of yourself.

He knew the campus you went to, he knew the classes you were taking, he knew your major- he knew everything. But he pretended like he didn’t.

So when he saw you in the parking lot, right next to his car and you had trouble with your groceries, he couldn’t help but feel like your knight in shining armor. With his hardened expression, he asked you in his stern and serious voice, “Need some help?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, “Yeah… you don’t mind helping me?” You scratched your head awkwardly. On the inside, he found it adorable. But on the outside, he maintained his cool. He nodded and walked over to your car to retrieve the bags of groceries you bought. He was so strong he carried all the bags to your apartment door. You thanked him graciously and invited him inside.

“You can put them on the table, I’ll assort them,” you said as you took of your jacket and hanged it on the rack right next to the door. He nodded and walked over to the dining table, where he put all the bags with food. He took this opportunity to look around your place.

You kept it simple. It was nice, colorful, but nice. You had tons of books on your shelves, he took a mental note that you probably liked to stay indoors. He noticed the way your laptop and a few papers were scattered on the couch and coffee table, you were studious and dedicated to your education. He silently applauded you in his head. He liked that about you. You had goals and ambitions.

“Thank you, again. I owe you one,” you walked up to him and gave him a warm, genuine smile. He looked down at you and nodded again. Pretty smile, he thought to himself.

“It’s no problem, let me know if you need help with anything. I’m a couple doors away,” he replied with his usual serious tone. He remained unchanged, at least to you. To him, he felt like he about to combust into pieces. You were perfect, absolutely perfect.

Days went by and you found yourself talking to Leon more often. Or at least on the days you could. Leon was gone most of the day, he told you about his hectic work schedule and you couldn’t help but feel bad about him. So you decided to make him a small dinner with a note.

You left it on the front door of his apartment and walked back to yours. When Leon came back from work, it was 2:27 a.m. As he climbed up the steps of the stairs, he noticed something on his front door and felt slightly confused. He hasn’t ordered anything. He grew cautious and slowly approached his door. But then he saw your name on a sticky note. He quickly picked up the lunch box and walked inside his apartment.

Walking to his dining table, he read the note you left. Even your handwriting was perfect. The little swirls of the letters, almost writing in cursive made him want to keep you all to himself. He brought the piece of paper to his nose and sniffed it roughly, the paper crumbling in his hands as he could smell your scent on it. He groaned in pleasure as he could imagine your soft and small hands picking up a pen and write something just for him.

Just for him.

That thought alone almost set him off. He couldn’t eat dinner, not with the growing erection in his pants. He put the dinner you made in his freezer and quickly walked to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and unbuckled his belt, throwing it somewhere on the floor. He pulled down his pants and boxers and watched as his cocked sprung freely, hitting his abdomen with a thwack.

His left hand held the piece of water with your handwriting and your scent while his right hand traveled to his cock. He brought the piece of paper to his nose again and closed his eyes in pure delight. Your scent was intoxicating- sweet vanilla with a hint of coffee. He grunted and moaned at the thought of your hands picking writing this note. He could picture your small hands wrapping his big cock, rubbing his base up and down as your scent infiltrated his airway.

His muscles tensed up as the thought of having you in between his legs made his cock throb. His stomach coiled as he felt himself nearing his orgasm. He could imagine your mouth sucking on his cock as he rammed his hips deeper down your throat, making you gag on him. He’d grab your hair and pull you closer to his pelvic area, having his blonde pubic hair rub against your face as you took his cock like a good girl.

He growled your name as he came in himself. White ropes shooting down at his palm as he tried to collect his cum and prevent it from staining any of his furniture. He sighed softly and laid his back on the mattress as he thought of you.

You drive him wild, he’d do anything for you. If it meant having you as his.

And that’s what drove him to kill more people. One day, he overheard you while both of you “coincidentally” went to get the mail from the lobby. You were speaking on the phone to a friend and he tried to make it seem like he wasn’t listening. But he was.

He heard you talk about how your ex is pestering you and giving you a hard time. That you cried last night because you two had an argument while he tried to get back together. His blood ran through his veins as you mentioned you cried.

He’d kill anyone who made this sweet and perfect angel cry. And that’s what his next murder was going to be. He went back to his apartment and began to stalk you again. As a government agent, he had privileges the common folk didn’t have. He was able to run a background check on you and found out your ex. To his surprise, he was your first and only relationship so far. He knew this guy probably broke your heart as your first relationship will always be your worst one.

He narrowed his eyes in anger as he found the man who broke your heart. And jotted down the information he had on him- his address, his workplace, his contact information, etc. Leon found everything thanks to his job.

When you heard news about your ex dying, you were shocked to see that he died from overdose. You’ve never known he was a drug addict, or at least that’s what Leon made it seem to be.

Leon drove all the way this man’s house and observed his routine. Your ex went to work, came back home, and went to the bar. An alcoholic, this made it easier for him.

Leon walked into the bar with his casual clothes, he spotted the man sitting on the bar counter with a drink already in his hand. He walked over and sat next to him as he ordered himself whiskey.

Your ex was already stupidly drunk, flirting up some poor girl who was just trying to talk to her friend. So he’s a creep too, he thought to himself as he took a sip his drink.

Why do you always find yourself around creepy and perverted men?

Leon looked around and made sure no one was watching him as slipped some stuff into his drink. Leon then continued to sip his drink and even chatted up the bartender.

The more your ex drank, the closer he got to an overdose. Turns out if you mix alcohol with prednisone, the effects could be fatal. Your ex would develop a liver damage that could potentially end his life if he kept drinking like he was right now.

It was getting late and Leon paid his tab. It was 11 PM and he decided he should go home. He wasn’t drunk, not yet at least. So he was perfectly capable of driving back to his apartment. But not your ex.

It was nearing closing time for the bar and the poor bartender saw your ex passed out on the counter. She didn’t know what to do but she tried waking him up.

Unresponsive. Her eyes widened slightly as she over to his side and checked for a pulse.

Flat line. She called the police and reported the death.

The police declared it suicide. They believed he voluntarily took drugs and alcohol at the same time.

In your mind, you were in denial but then you slowly began to think to yourself. He’s been acting weird and out of the ordinary when he’d talk about getting back together. It all made sense now. His aggressive behavior, his short temper… he was a drug addict and an alcoholic.

You attended the funeral, of course. And when you came back, Leon had been unlocking his door. He saw your puffy eyes as you had your heels in your hands. You looked like you’ve been crying- which you probably were. Leon paused as he stared at you, he nodded once at you, acknowledging your presence. He then spoke up in a tired voice, “Rough day?”

You nodded as you blinked slowly, “You could say that.”

He hummed in response and looked back down at his doorknob. Then he looked back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Leon himself was tired as he just came back from a tough mission, but he would never be too tired for you. He pushed his exhaustion to the side and would rather take care of your needs for you.

You sighed and nodded slowly, “I could use a drink.”

He invited you over to his apartment and let you sit down on his couch as he took two glasses and one bottle of Jack. He walked over to the couch and set down the glasses and the bottle on the coffee table as he sat down next to you.

He began to pour for the both of you, not wanting you to work any more than you’ve already had.

“Cheers,” you muttered under your breath as you clanked your glass with his and chugged the liquid down your throat. The burning sensation almost making you forget about the mental strain you had.

He watched you as you set down the glass back down on the coffee table. Even in this state, you looked absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t wait to have you for himself. To prove to you that what you needed was a real man.

One thing let to another and you found yourself pinned under him on his bed. Your legs spread open as your knees rested on his shoulders. The head of his cock abusing your cervix, bruising it with brute force as he pulled out and pushed back in harshly. His balls smacking against your ass as his arms caged you under him. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails clawing deep into his flesh as the bed creaked from him pounding into you. The headboard hitting the wall behind the bed as he pulled out and forced his cock back into your tight walls. Your cunt clenching around his member as his hands gripped on your hair, forcing your head up so he could hear your stupid blabber.

He pulled out and rolled you over to your stomach. His left hand gripped on your waist as his right hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed your face down the sheets of his bed as he rammed his cock from behind you. Your ass jiggling as pounded harsher and harsher. Making sure you knew who you belonged to. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

You kept moaning his name against his pillow. Drool falling down your lips as tears rolled down your cheeks from the pleasure. You felt him even deeper from this position. His left hand gripped on your waist as it then traveled down to your ass and smacked, almost immediately seeing his hand print show in a pink and red hue on your skin. The burning sensation of the slap only made you more needy for his touch. His left hand found your hip and forced your body to clash against his as he fucked you straight to bliss.

Stars clouded your eyes as you whimpered and moaned. He cock throbbed and twitched inside of you as it stretched you. It hurt but it hurt good. His right hand gently squeezed the back of your throat, causing you to moan.

“Fuck- Leon- ‘mma cum-“ you spoke breathlessly in between moans and whimpers. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Cum for me,” he pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as he felt you squirm under him. Your body convulsing as your orgasm took the best of you.

Your pussy clamped and clenched around him, wedging him with your juices. He didn’t stop, however. He kept pounding into you as the squelching sound echoed through his room.

He grunted and growled as he felt himself about to cum. He began to speed up and he let go of your neck. Now that both of his hands were on your hips, he gripped the fat of them and forced your body in and out of his cock. Bruising your cervix as your ass hit his hips. The sweat making your skin glisten under the shitty light of his room. You looked even more beautiful when he was fucking you like this.

His hot and sticky cum spurted out of his cock, coating your walls with a part of himself. In his sick and twisted mind, he branded you. He branded you with his essence and he didn’t regret it. He pulled out and heard you moan dumbly as he watched his cum slowly drip down the lips of your cunt to his bedsheet. He’d have to clean them but he didn’t care. He gave your ass a gentle squeeze as he patted your back for you to lay down. He knew you enjoyed it so much since you were on the brink of passing out.

You closed your eyes and felt as Leon cleaned you up. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on you knuckles. He was grateful to have you.

He wouldn’t mind killing again. Now that you were his in his mind, he’d go as far as killing every man who’s ever laid eyes on you.

For you, he’d become the world’s best serial killer.

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simonrileysfavteacup · 1 month

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The Scare (Alternate Ending)

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: Angst, kidnapping, torture, descriptions of blood n torture, comfort, simon in ghost mode, idk what else

Summary: No summary ;) have fun

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more.

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person.

You.

Barely anyone knew that the Lieutenant had picked himself up a hot little thing and managed to keep her. The two of you had been together for 3 years now and he was so close to proposing. He was ready to spend his life with you. He was ready to make you his and give you his last name.

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered.

And then he realised.

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were curled up in bed, music playing in the background as you read one of your favourite romance books Simon had bought you. The lights were off, a single three-wick Bath and Body Works candle on your bedside table. It was peaceful. Cosy.

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening.

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone.

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this.

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people.

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment.

With trembling hands, you reach for Simon’s hidden knife, concealed under his side of the bed. You clutch in it a sweaty palm, silent praying that the person walking around your apartment is a friend, not a foe. The footsteps get closer. You take a deep breath.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door.

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath.

“That her?” The first man asks.

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak.

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

He pushes you, reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling out the knife. The other one walks over while you’re distracted, talking a hold of your arms and tying them behind your back. You yell before you hear the sound of duct tape ripping. Within seconds, there’s a piece over your mouth. You try to yell. No use.

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words.

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso.

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. The front door comes into view. They have no care whatsoever, with you hitting your head on the wall. Black dots appear in your vision, slowly taking you out of consciousness.

***

Simon stepped into the apartment the two of you shared, praying he wasn’t too late.

The apartment was silent.

The first bad sign.

He walks towards your bedroom, the door wide open.

The second bad sign.

The bed was empty, your candle was still lit, and your book was closed on your bed.

With no bookmark.

The third bad sign.

He was too late. He knew he was too late.

***

2 weeks.

16 days.

16 nights you slept.

24 hours you counted every day.

16 days you slept uneasy.

Counting down the minutes until Simon would finally find you.

At least, you hoped he would.

The men brought you to what seemed like an old warehouse, locking you up in a dark grey rooms. 4 grey walls stared back at you. One little cot in the corner of the room, on the opposite wall, a door. A door you were dragged through every day to be taken to the room you were tortured in every day. They always asked the same questions.

And they were all about Simon.

You said nothing, of course. How could you betray him like that? He protects you, you protect him.

Even if it meant the bruises on your arms would keep coming, the cuts on your back wouldn’t stop bleeding, the grumbling in your stomach wouldn’t stop getting louder, and the pain would just grow.

You were willing to take it all for him. He was worth it.

You stare up at the grey ceiling above you, sighing as you lay on the cot, silently praying that wherever Simon is, he’s safe, he’s eaten, and he’s healthy. And he’s looking for you.

You know he probably is. He loves you. He tells you all the time that you’re his whole world.

But a part of you can’t help but think that he isn’t coming. You know it’s a lie, Simon would never leave you. Especially when you know he loves you.

You silently pray. And pray.

Until the grey fades away and the black of sleep takes over.

***

On the morning of the 17th day, you woke up to gunshots. You shivered. Gunshots always meant bad things. At least, that’s what Simon says.

You stand on shaky legs before getting down, sitting with your knees to your chest. Footsteps make their way closer to your room. Your anxiety skyrockets. The door flies open.

On instinct, you crawl backwards, in fear. A hand reaches out to you.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” you cry.

“’s me, lovie! ’s me! ’s okay! You’re okay…’s jus’ me. ’s me, lovie…”

You know that voice. You know that accent. You know that way of not pronouncing ‘t’s.

Simon.

You peer your eyes open, to be met with a skull mask looking back at you. Acting on instinct, you throw your arms around him, letting out a loud sob of relief. His arms tighten, holding your body against him. He strokes your hair softly.

“Prove it,” you whisper.

“Prove what, lovie?”

“Prove that you’re Simon…I can’t trust anyone right now…” you reply shakily. He nods, taking off his mask. “Si…” You shake your head. “Not enough…”

“You hate the smell of ketchup. You can’t stand vinegar in any of your food. You always light candles when you read. You forgive, but you never forget. You like chocolate and strawberry ice cream, but you can’t stand chocolate-covered strawberries. You love ‘The Rookie’, even though it’s inaccurate and it sucks. You need more?” he rambles.

You giggle softly through the tears in your eyes, curling into him once more.

“‘m here, ‘m here, I promise. ‘M not leavin’ you. Gonna take you home,” he smiles at you, still holding you against him. His eyes drift down to the bruises and the cuts and the dried blood on your arms. You notice his eyes, the soft glint in them gone, replaced by an angry look. He presses a finger into his ears. “Johnny, don’ spare any o’ them.”

You blink a few times to process his words but snuggle closer to him as he speaks to Johnny. He takes off his jacket, wrapping you in it. He holds you there for what seems like hours, though it’s merely 10 minutes. A sigh escapes his lips as he stands up, heading out of the room you’re both in. He keeps your head cradled against him, shielding you from the battle going on outside.

He takes you onto a jet, a military one, you recognize. He sets you down on a seat, sitting next to you, holding onto you. “Simon…” his name escapes your lips as a whisper, your eyes starting to close again.

“Keep ‘em open, please. Lovie, I need t’ know you're still conscious. Please, keep ‘em open,” his free hand caresses your face. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

“Trying,” you respond. He smiles, continuing to play with my hair. “Hey Si?”

“Hmm?” He hums.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, lovie.”

#ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley cod #ghost imagine #ghost cod #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley fluff #ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

518 notes · View notes

1427 · 2 months

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something to prove pt 2

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Every time your mom goes down to the city with Merle she lets Daryl stay behind and watch TV.

Warnings: Very vaguely implied drug use, age-gap (reader is 20, Daryl is mid30s), smut, voyeurism/exhibitionism, masturbation (both m & f), hand stuff, squirting.

Word Count: 2k

A/n: sorry this isn’t as spicy as the first one but. Idk. I also feel like y’all are gonna kill me if I don’t make a part that has Daryl actually get some. But. Idk.

17+ mdni

\\part 1\\

masterlist

You touch yourself in front of Daryl almost every time he comes over and your mom leaves the house. Finding him in the same spot, the remote on his knee, waiting for you. Head turned to the side as he chews at his thumb, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. His other knee anxiously bouncing. Sometimes he’s smoking, other times he’s not.

You notice all of these things because you notice everything in those moments right before you play with yourself for him. Every time you’re alone in your room you’d wish you had the courage to actually talk to him. Maybe touch him? Anything. Everything about him made you burn. And yet you kept an aching distance. Three feet away, and on the floor. Never any closer.

Eventually Daryl and Merle lose whatever living arrangements they’d had and your mom invites them to crash in the living room.

This doesn’t change anything between you and Daryl. There’s more lingering stares exchanged but you still don’t really speak. Especially in front of your mom and Merle. They never seem to notice the tension that’s wrapped itself around the two of you, hanging in the air. This very dirty secret you and Daryl indulged in every time they leave.

Luckily you didn’t share the space with them often. Only ever escaping your room to eat, leave the house, or put on a show for Daryl when they’d inevitably travel to the city every few days.

You’ve been gearing yourself up to do something more, but what? It takes you a week to decide and then another week to actually work up the nerve to do it.

You wait for Daryl to fall asleep. For some reason you know if he watches you come down the stairs, observes you walking up to him, you’d end up wimping out. So you wait for him to be asleep, 3am should do it, and then you wait a little longer.

With every step down the stairs your heart beats harder. You feel out of your body, just barely there as your feet make small but deliberate steps toward Daryl, asleep sitting up in the arm chair. Until suddenly you’re back in your body, standing over him.

You use your leg to jostle against his, causing him to stir. Waiting until his sleepy eyes open and meet yours. Too late to back out now, basically on top of him. But you’re frozen in place, you can’t make your mouth say the words that you’d practiced a hundred times. The words screaming in your head.

You’re both just staring at each other. Daryl’s obviously waiting for you to speak, or do something. But he doesn’t mind just staring at you. He doesn’t mind the waiting. After all, his favorite times are when you’re in front of him - and you’re in front of him now.

He doesn’t usually get to see this side of you. The front. Your face. The light of the TV is all blues and pinks and something inside Daryl swells. A warm gush of longing from his chest into his throat. Prickling at his skin. Not just longing to touch you, but something more. Something else. He doesn’t even want to speak, he’s enjoying just watching the colors dance across your cheeks and nose and the almost tangible warmth of the moment.

You’re out of your body again, but you hear yourself say it, “Will you touch me this time?”

Daryl’s been waiting for this. He’s thought about it so many times, in so many different ways. Wondering, seemingly ever free second of the day, when you were going to take it further. And how. He’s grateful that this is what you’d asked for, instead of maybe asking him to fuck you. He couldn’t do that. He could, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to. Doesn’t think he’d be able to even pull his cock out in front of you without passing away, and going to hell.

He swallows and nods while still looking up at you. His eyes move along with his fingertips, his right hand grabbing your left wrist and moving you to sit back in his lap.

You perch on him. Leaning back to place your feet on either one of his knees. Spreading your legs like this felt more lewd than you’d imagined it would, but because he’s behind you you’re not embarrassed by it, and you’re not shy about it. It snares something deep inside you, that even though your t-shirt is mostly covering your wet heat you're still so very out in the open.

Daryl snakes one arm around your waist and the other between your legs, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He wants to feel all the way up your leg from the knee. To see how much and how far you’d dripped down your thighs while you were standing there staring at him.

His fingers get slick about halfway up your leg and it takes everything in him not to put them in his mouth immediately. He’s been dying to taste you since that day. The first one. You never wipe your hand on him like the first time and he wants you to so badly, every time. And every time his voice gets caught in his throat and he doesn’t.

And now your sweet tangy mess was coating his fingertips. Your muscles are tense, the feeling of his digits slowly creeping closer to your center. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, “Please. Help.. me.” You whine, edging your hips forward just a little, using your feet to leverage. But the arm he has wrapped around your waist pulls you back flush against him. That’s when you feel him for the first time. Hard and digging into your ass cheek. A low groan escapes his lips, and he holds you even tighter.

Daryl leans his forehead against the back of your shoulder, trying to pull himself together a little bit. You asked for his help, for him to touch you. But he’s so nervous, what if he does it wrong? He’s watched you so many times that even if he hadn’t known how to get a woman off before, he certainly knew how to get you off now. Still, he worries. Afraid he’s going to fuck it up.

Finally, his middle finger slides down the center of your arousal. Running over your clit, down to your hole, and back. You can feel the nervousness in his touch, the anticipation that’d been building up in him for months. You whimper, looking down your body to watch his hand as it gets acquainted with your cunt. God, is this what you looked like when he watched you? Your pussy swollen with desire, sopping wet, and visibly trembling? It was so deliciously vulgar.

His fingers slip around your folds, like yours do when you’re too wet like this. You whine, even though he’s touching you it’s not enough. Or, rather, it’s only making it worse without the pressure to accompany such touches. He gives up on trying to spread your lips to delicately and masterfully work your clit, the way he’s watched you do, and instead rubs your whole messy pussy with three of his fingers. Pressing against your mound hard. This elicits a deep groan from you, one that you can already feel building into a scream. Nothing you’ve ever experienced has felt like this.

He rubs around in the mess while you still watch from above. It doesn’t take long for your hips to start shaking uncontrollably. Whimpering and groaning you start to feel that hunger again. The insatiable one, needing something inside of you. He waits until you say, “P-please.” Your hips trying to move into his hand, but he keeps his grip on you so tight that your stuck in place. On his lap and at his mercy.

Daryl wants to make you wait, wants to ask you to say please again. Wants to hear you beg in every language so that he’d have more words to remember falling out of your mouth like this. But he can’t control himself either. He’s been imagining what your walls would feel like contracting around his fingers for so long. It’s all he fuckin’ thinks about anymore.

White hot. You feel his fingers all the way up to the knot in your throat and you choke on it. Each time he curls his two fingers, you feel it like a pang in your lungs, knocking the wind out of you. Daryl can’t stop, pressing into that spot of you, your breath hitching in your throat over and over. Your pussy clenches every time, he scissors his fingers as he pulls them out of you, to see those juicy lips stretch out around them. He needs more. Wants to fill you up until you burst. “More?” Is all he can manage to ask.

You nod feverishly, your muscles moving against every pressure, your hips practically vibrating on top of him. Daryl swallows and readies a third finger, shoving all three thick digits into your greedy cunt without any hesitation.

“Sh-shit.” You choke out, completely overwhelmed by the feeling. Daryl has to hold onto you so tightly, that one arm isn’t enough. With three fingers deep inside you, he closes his palm tight to your mound and holds onto you like that. Like the inside of you is a handle he’s latched his fingers into to lock you on top of him. And the way your ass slides back over his cock is too much. He has to do it again.

He rocks you back and forth. Pushing you down by your pelvic bone with him hooked inside you and over his clothed rage. It’s amazing. The way his palm pushes and rubs against your clit again and again, the way he’s moving your body against him. Pushing you and pulling over his hard cock by your cunt. He’s afraid maybe he’s hurting you, but your body tells him that he’s not. He’s never seen someone so let go from their inhibitions before. No one’s ever shown them this side of themselves for him. He loves it.

You think you're about to orgasm, the sight alone is enough, but it doesn’t come. It just keeps building. Deep in your stomach, all the way up your spine. Down to your toes curling into his thighs. And it keeps building. You’ve never experienced something like this, it almost scares you.

Daryl can tell that you’re close, every single muscle is strained against him. He’s using everything he’s got to keep you on his lap, his arm muscles taut and rigid around your writhing body.

Your orgasm pushes out of you in a scream, your pussy gushing. Warm squirt jetting out from your body and all over Daryl’s hand. All over the floor. Your legs shake, your feet bouncing into the air and spasming completely out of control.

He just holds you for a moment, his muscles still flexed around you. He keeps his fingers inside. Relishing in and memorizing each time your pussy pulsates around him, until it stops. Finally he loosens his grip and pulls away.

The emptiness almost makes you want to cry, especially after such an orgasm. You’d never done that before. You didn’t know you could. You don’t want Daryl to see you cry, to get the wrong idea. Plus, what? Were you guys going to talk afterward? You never had before. No… it was over. And you had to go lest winding up a sobbing mess on the floor in front of him. On top of your own cum.

So you leave him. Falling away from his body delicately. Feeling the cold air on your legs makes you feel even emptier. You still bounce away, jogging up the stairs like you always do.

And Daryl watches you go, no wiser to the fact that you were somehow upset. Not upset, overwhelmed. Over sensitive. Over… everything. Every emotion was too much.

His hand that’s covered in you has been hanging off the side of the arm chair, waiting for you to disappear. He’s been trying to decide if he wants to lick every drop from his hand while he jerks off with the other, or to use your juice as lubricant. He decides to do the former. Savoring every tangy morsel he can until there’s nothing left; even though he came when he was on the second finger.

A/n: actually nah, there’s gonna be another part prob.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader

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verstappen-cult · 1 month

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# WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I WENT TO TOUCH YOU NOW? | CL16

Or. . . 5 times you and Charles reach for the other and are oblivious about it + 1 time you aren’t.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex. Just two oblivious in love. This one is long, so, prepare yourself, go grab a cup of coffee and a snack. I haven’t written smut in a very long time so don’t expect anything fancy and please be nice. Enjoy! xx

You and Charles can’t keep your hands to yourselves. Everyone can see that. Everyone but you two.

Charles is always reaching for you. He’s the first one leaning in to kiss your cheek as a greeting when you see each other, lingering for a couple of seconds with his cheek against yours, feeling your soft skin, with his hand squeezing your waist ever so slightly. When you are out with your friends he’s always trying to sit by your side, waiting for the right moment to put his arm in the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder and keeping up with the conversation as if nothing is happening. Charles tries to be smooth about it, he really tries.

And you are always reaching for Charles. Well, as his Press Officer it’s your job to be by his side. When you need him to pay attention to you as you’re explaining the plan for the day, you make sure to grab him by his biceps, not letting him go until you are finished, and even then you take a couple of seconds to pull away. Every time you pass each other around the paddock, you always find a way to catch his arm, his shoulder or his waist. Even when he’s too busy and late to something and you don’t actually need him for anything, he makes time for you.

But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when you would not even dare to think about touching him, too shy and wanting to be professional. It was a little hard when you had to be by his side almost all day, every day. You would try to not look directly at him – impossible to do given that you needed to do your job – but then Charles started to make a few jokes to break the ice and make some conversation, started to ask about your day, he started to care. And, well, the rest is history.

New Year’s isn’t your favorite holiday, so, you spent it at home watching romcoms and went to sleep even before the clock hit midnight. Your friends weren’t happy but you promised to make it up to them. That is why you could not say no when your friends invited you to spend a few days with them on a Ski resort in Italy. Winter break was about to be over, after all. So, you showed up at the train station with all your bags and a little sleep deprived.

“I was about to call the police. I thought you were bailing on us.” Your friend says as a greeting, helping you with your bags. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thank you, how sweet of you.” You roll your eyes but let her kiss your cheek. “I’ve been a little busy with the new season starting in a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” You get on the train after her, looking for your seats and the rest of the group. “we actually told the same thing to Charles.”

You’re about to ask her what does she mean by that when you see the brown hair of Charles Leclerc. The next thing you see is his smile, dimples on display.

Since you started working with Charles as Media — then when you were promoted to PR Officer — there has not been a day you two haven't been together or communicating one way or another. So, anyone can say that becoming friends was bound to happen.

You make your way to him without a second thought.

"Hey, Charlie." Charles moves to the side, leaving the spot beside him free for you to sit. Which you immediately do.

"Are you excited?" He asks, turning his whole attention to you.

You have to look away, his green eyes looking at you so intensely that you feel he can see right through you into your soul.

"I've never skied before." You admit, cheeks flushed.

Charles' eyebrows shot up, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "Oh, you're gonna have so much fun."

The train starts moving, making you both look outside. You weren't planning on sitting with Charles, but you're not gonna stand up and leave him. Not that you actually want that.

You're about to ask him about the place you're going to spend the next days in when a yawn messes up everything.

Charles smiles softly at you, his hand patting your knee. He leaves it there for one, two, three, four seconds before removing it.

"It's not that far, really. But you could—" He clears his throat, eyes darting around. "I've been told my shoulder is the best spot to take a nap. It’s like very comfortable." Charles has a teasing but shy smile on his face, gaze finally landing on you.

You feel your face burning. You don't even need to look at yourself in a mirror to know how red your face is, probably the same color as his racing suit.

You look between his shoulder and his eyes, pretending to think about it when, in reality, you've made up your mind the second he stopped talking.

"I don't wa—"

Charles shakes his head, moving a little closer until your left side is touching his right one, not a breeze could pass between you.

You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your head rest on his shoulder. His scent hits you immediately, is calming, warm, earthy. And it reminds you of the cabin in the woods you and your family used to spend winters in when you were a kid. Surrounded by tall, green trees and a still lake.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Charles resting his head on top of yours.

"I can't do it. No, nope." You say, trying to move away, but the skis don't let you go that far.

"Yes, you can." Charles says from behind, startling you. You weren't expecting him to stay behind with you and your Ski instructor. "Just— let me." He tells the instructor, urging him to move out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you the basics,” He explains casually, as if you don’t have a certified instructor waiting a few meters away.

You smile when he positions himself by your side, too busy trying to make you stand correctly to notice how fondly you're looking at him.

"So, you need to bend your knees a little," You don't know if he notices, but his hands finding your waist to help you move just like he wants you to, send a shiver down your body. You can feel his warmth even through the layers of clothes. "Just like that, yes. You're doing great." Can he shut up? If he's going to praise you every time you do something right, you're not going to survive.

You look over your shoulder when you hear your friend's voices. You catch the exact moment they see you two and stop walking to turn around and go back to where they were before.

"Now, lean forward." Charles instructs you and you follow. Trying to regulate your breathing but with Charles so close to you is an impossible task. "Amazing!" You just leaned. It’s not that hard. "I need to— um... excuse me." He whispers, lowering one of his hand to your thigh and spreading your legs a little. When Charles looks up, his cheeks are tinted with a pretty pink color. You know you're blushing too.

Charles keeps on teaching you the basics. You even move a few meters with him by your side, his hands on your waist at all times.

"You're ready." The Monégasque says, smiling. "You are a fast learner, is she not?" From the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he asks the instructor, who is immediately moving closer.

"Of course," The man says, a polite smile directed at you. "Now we can slide down the mountain. And I'm going to be by your side at all times, so, you don’t need to worry."

You nod, excited to start skiing. Finally.

"You can go, Mr. Leclerc." The Italian man says. But Charles doesn’t move, he just keeps on looking at you, hands still on your waist. At this point you feel like they belong there. “Uh, Mr. Leclerc?” He insists. This time Charles looks at him, shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts. “If you want to go, I’ll take care of her.”

“Oh, yes! Sure, yeah.” Charles pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “You’re gonna be alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Charlie.” He makes you chuckle. “I had a pretty good instructor and I have another one ready to catch me if I fall.”

It looks like Charles wants to say something else but chooses not to and, instead, looks at you one final time before sliding down the mountain.

“So, let’s go?” Your instructor positions himself by your side in the same spot Charles was before.

He doesn’t touch you like Charles did. And you don’t feel as safe as you felt with Charles by your side.

It’s Ferrari SF-24 Launch day. Winter's break is over and Charles is back in Maranello.

Charles hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening, after spotting you having dinner with members of the PR team and, without thinking so much about it, walked into the restaurant. Someone invited him and he didn't hesitate to grab a chair and sit by your side.

It was a very pleasant dinner. And Charles didn't let anyone pay for it.

You said your goodbyes after that and you made sure to remind him that he needed to be before 8:00 AM for the launch, and to have time to go over all the details of what Charles needed to do that day.

That’s most definitely the only explanation as to why Charles is getting out of his car at 7:15 in the morning. Not because he wants to see you, of course not. It’s just because he has a lot of things to do. It’s an important day, after all.

“Good morning.” Charles greets some people of the team that are passing by, rushing to get everything ready for the launch in less than an hour.

He’s in a good mood. He just knows it’s going to be a great day. Charles also knows it’s gonna be his year.

"You're early."

Charles turns around at the sound of your voice. He finds you checking the time on your watch, a teasing smile adorning those plump, pink lips of yours.

"You said before eight."

You laugh, walking down the hallway. "Yeah, but not so early." He follows you, trying to catch up with you. "However, I'm glad you decided to show up on time, we have a lot to do."

"I wanna go back to sleep." He complains, pouting like a child.

He makes you laugh, again. Charles thinks your laugh is his favorite sound in the world. Beside the sound of the SF-24.

Charles really likes to make you laugh.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?" He pretends to be offended, and you mimic the sound of his voice, bringing your hand to your chest.

"Me? Never!"

"You sure?" He stops walking, stopping right in front of you. "Because you know what I'm gonna do if you're actually laughing at me?"

You look at him suspiciously, fighting the smile that wants to make its way into your face.

Charles takes a step towards you, making you take a step back.

"Charles, whatever you're thinking—don't."

"What? I'm not doing anything!" He sounds innocent, even raising his hands in surrender. But he's still walking towards you, shortening the distance until he's so close you can count the freckles on his face.

Before you notice what's happening, he's tickling you.

It makes you throw all the things you had on your hands to the floor. You try to pull away and make him stop, but he just keeps going.

Your laugh fills the hallway you're currently in.

But you can't take it anymore, your stomach hurting for laughing so much. It’s also only a matter of time before someone comes to see what's happenig, so, you do the only thing your brain can conjure up to make him stop: hit him. Even if it's just a little push.

You raise your arms, ready to push him and defend yourself. But Charles reflexes are good and so fast, because before you can do anything, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

Charles amusement is clear on his face, eyes shining with mirth.

"You are," You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your rapid breathing. "a very bad man."

He laughs, throwing his head backwards. "I'm just defending my honor, boss."

You shake your head, throwing daggers at him with your eyes. But Charles doesn’t react at all, he just caresses the inside of your wrists with his thumb.

“I promise to behave if you don’t laugh at me again.” He pouts, and your heart does a black flip inside your chest, skipping several beats.

Hesitantly, you reach out to rest a hand on his chest, giving him a little playful push. You’re not sure if you imagine the shiver you feel under your hand or if it really happens.

You chuckle, looking straight into his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

Charles lets go of your wrists against his will. He bends over to pick up the things you were carrying, but doesn’t give them back to you.

“If we end up getting scolded, I’m blaming you.”

Charles looks at you for what feels like hours, taking you in. He really thinks he could just watch you all day and he’d find a new freckle on your face, or a glint in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He leans in, so, so close, that feels your breath hitch. Charles thinks you’re gonna pull away for a second but you don’t make a move, you just keep looking at him with a indescribable expression.

“You can do whatever you want. I’ll take it.” He says in your ear, kissing your cheek before pulling away.

You stop breathing, all you can do is blink at him while your mind echoes his words.

“Shall we?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you, he resumes his walking anyway. It takes you a long time to snap out of it and follow him.

You can’t even remember what you are supposed to be doing today.

It’s day two of pre-season testing in Bahrain.

You’re in the middle of talking with a reporter about the questions he can ask Charles when you are interrupted by a hand being placed on your lower back. You immediately recognize the perfume.

"Hey, I was looking for you." Charles says, fingers caressing the spot between your shirt and your trousers. His calloused hand drawing patters on your lower back shouldn't make you feel as flustered as you feel. It's not the first time he does it, so why can't you just act normal?

"Hey, Charles." The reporter says, drawing the Monégasque's attention. "Can I ask you just a few questions about second day of testing?" He doesn't need to ask him, you already agreed about it.

Charles look at you, silently asking if it's okay.

"Just testing, okay?" You tell the reporter, who nods in understanding, already moving in front of Charles alongside his camera man.

Charles squeezes your waist before giving two pats on your lower back, so low that he's almost touching your ass. You eyes widen and you take a sharp intake of breath. You really try to play it cool. But you can tell Charles noticed your reaction when you see the smirk on his beautiful, stupid face.

The reporter begins with the first question, Charles' eyes only snapping to him when the man draws his attention.

You don't listen to one single question, which is, you know, an idiotic mistake because being alert of what a reporter's asking is basically your job. But you find yourself looking at Charles' lips more than one time during the six minutes the interview lasts.

You can't do nothing more than to stand there frozen in place.

The reporter thanks Charles, that much you hear, but you still can't seem to snap back to the present. What is Charles doing? He's being extra touchy lately, not that it bothers you, but you can't seem to focus in anything when he has a hand on any part of your body. Then, add that intense gaze that, apparently, has reserved for you only.

Charles is definitely going to be the death of you.

"You seem to have your head in the clouds." Charles' accented voice is what draws you back to reality.

"What?"

What he does next is definitely something you were not expecting, not now, not even in a million years.

Charles cups your chin with his right hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. If you weren't hyper aware of every little movement, you wouldn't have felt it.

Your gaze drops to his lips and Charles has the nerve to stick his tongue out to lick his lips. They look so wet and inviting, all you need to do is move an inch closer and lean in to—

"See something you like?"

You feel your heartbeat in your ears, so loud you're pretty sure everyone in Bahrain can hear it. Charles waits for your answer as you panic, replaying his words over, and over again for minutes or hours — you don't even know.

You take Charles' hand and guide it away from your face. It takes all the willpower inside of you to let go of his hand and run away from him.

It wasn't a great start of the season. Everyone agrees on that. Even the boy stepping out of the Ferrari, who started the first race of the season in front row and had such a hard time trying to drive and secure a spot on the podium.

You are glad at least one Ferrari got there in the end. But you're not as happy as you'd be if Charles was the one standing there.

Charles takes his helmet and balaclava off, his messy hair standing in every direction while sweat runs down his face. You force yourself to look away.

He makes his way to you, given that you have his cap and rings. Charles really tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You know how disappointed he is. With himself and his team. Mostly with himself.

“Just a few questions and then you’ll be on your way to the hotel, okay?” Charles just nods, busy putting all his rings and bracelets on.

Charles feels like shit. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep, he doesn't even want to know what happened or how they can fix it for next week. He wants to sleep.

"Hey," You stand a little closer, not thinking about anything but trying to make him talk, say anything to pull him out of his head. "It's just the first race of the season. There are a lot more to go." You rub the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there stand up.

Charles closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. So, you take it as a good sing to keep rubbing and massaging.

Charles groans when you rub between his neck and shoulder, a very sensitive spot for him. He slowly opens his eyes again, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes.

"Come on, let's finish with this and get you to bed." You tentatively slide your hand over his shoulder and left side of his body, stopping at his waist to wrap an arm around it.

For the first time since the race finished, you see a smile forming on his lips. When you make eye contact, you know he has the perfect answer for it and, for the looks of it, it's definitely going to leave you flustered.

"If you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you had to do was ask."

It definitely makes you flush furiously, but you decide not to say anything. Mostly because you don't know what to say. Charles has been saying all these things for a very long time now and you don't know what it means, what he's playing at.

You let go of Charles when you reach the reporter, moving a little to the side to give them some space. The reporter knows what to ask but you still are on high alert, she's known for asking rude and out of place questions.

At first everything goes alright, so, you use that time to answer some messages and check out some emails. Until what the woman says next, makes your heart drop.

"You say you are capable, but it is your fault alm—" You don't let her finish, you interrupt the interview immediately by standing in front of Charles, like trying to shield him from the hurtful words of an unprofessional reporter.

"I'll make sure you receive a fine for that." It's all you say before blindly reaching for Charles.

You take his hand, dragging him out of there. You don't stop for nothing, not when a reporter asks for an interview, not when fans approach Charles to ask for pictures.

You keep walking and walking until you are in front of Charles' driver room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"I'm going to talk to—"

Charles grabs your shoulders, turning you around so you're looking at him. "Don't worry about it. You know I don't care about what they say."

His words make you angry.

"But I care!" You exclaim, immediately regretting it. The corners of Charles' mouth go downwards, and he steps closer. "She deserves that fine."

"I know she deserves it and she will get it," His hands trail over your arms, stopping at your wrists for a second before holding your hands. "but right now I need a hug."

You blink up at him.

"Would you hug me?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. You are moving before you actually process his words, probably because you've been thinking about hugging him since the first time he announced over the radio how the brakes where not responding to him.

Sliding your hand around his shoulders comes like a second nature to you, like is something you've done your whole life. You don't care that he's drenched in sweat, you hide your face in the crook of his neck anyways. And it's then that you learn how much you like the mixture of his scent with the sweat of racing for over two hours.

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his body. It's then that he learns how well you fit against his body. Like you belong there. He knows you belong in his arms.

Charles finished third.

It's his first podium of the season.

You wait by the side but he doesn't see you. He has the most pretty and bright smile on his face as he removes the balaclava from his head. He has the most pretty and bright smile when he greets and congratulates Max and Checo.

And you really think that his smiles widens when he finally looks to the side, right where you are alongside his Ferrari team.

Charles makes his way to his team. Everyone is so happy cheering for him and congratulating him for his first podium. Everyone is happy.

But no one can't he as happy as you are.

Not when he sees you for the first time and rushes to hug you. It's quick, not enough, but they're pulling him away for the post-race interview. He needs to go up on that podium and make everyone proud.

You’re pretty sure you took like a dozen pictures of Charles on the podium. The ones where he's looking down at his team are your favorites because it looks like he's looking at you.

Post-race Charles is your favorite kind of Charles. But post-race Charles on the podium... that has to be what being in heaven feels like.

You laugh as you see him approaching hospitality with his trophy and champagne, and a broad smile spread over his face.

He's surrounded by people in a matter of seconds, as wells as Ollie by his side who can't seem to stop smiling. You're very proud of them.

When you see a few reporters approaching, you take into action.

The second Charles sees you, he's forgetting about anything and everyone around him. All he wants is to hug you and tell you how well and right it felt, but there are so many people that he has to settle with you grabbing the hem of his race suit to make him walk into hospitality, away from everyone.

"Go take a shower. Your team wants to celebrate, even Carlos wants to go." You smile up at him.

You don't know how to describe the expression on his face, so, you simply don't.

He snaps out of a his trance and makes his way to his driver room, but when you call his name he stops, turning around so fast that his neck starts to hurt.

"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."

Charles doesn't care if the trophy or the champagne bottle breaks, he just let them fall to the floor and runs to you, lifting you in his arms.

You giggle, feeling light as a feather. Like you're actually on cloud nine.

"Charlie!" Andrea's voice startles the both of you.

You are forced to pull away, but Charles leaves his hand on your waist, not letting you go completely.

"Come on, hurry up! We want to celebrate."

Andrea doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't care that he found you and Charles in a compromising position — kind of? well, it definitely is unprofessional — and that you still are very close to each other.

Charles groans and lets you go. You miss his touch already.

"Don't drink too much, okay?"

"As if I would let him." Andrea says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a grown man!" Charles screams before shutting the door of his room.

You're watching a movie in bed — wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, freshly out of the shower, with a delicious lotion on your body and feeling like a pampered baby — when there's a knock on your door.

When you open the door, you find a disheveled and out of breathe Charles standing there, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Charles?" You ask, confused.

You look to both sides of the hallway but nobody else is there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out celebrating."

"I was—" He says, breathing heavily. "I was but then I just — I realized that I didn't want to be there."

"Okay?" You're not getting any of what he's saying, more confused than ever. "Are you drunk?"

"No! I barely drank anything. It was just a glass."

"Then," You shrug, looking behind you into the room. "I was watching a movie. Do you... want to come in?"

You still don't know why he knocked on your door, but you are not letting him out in the hallway.

Charles accepts the invitation. Just not in the way you would've thought.

It takes you a second to notice a pair soft lips against your own. But when you finally register that you are being kissed, Charles is pulling away from you, a shy smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to find some coherent words in your fuzzy brain.

Charles' face falls, shoulder slumping slightly. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He starts rambling, moving his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I thought—we had, I mean... You and—"

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to take him out of his misery. That's definitely the only reason why you crashed your lips with his, pressing yourself against his body.

Charles moves quickly, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot.

You sigh into the kiss. A sigh that says finally.

"I think," You whisper against his lips, gasping for air. But Charles keeps on assaulting your lips. "we should talk ab—"

Charles groans pulling away, just enough to talk, lips brushing against yours with every breath. "We could. Or I could show you all the things I've been dreaming on doing to you, and we can talk later."

Your heart starts thumping so fast that your breath hitches in your throat. Charles takes your silence, and your body's reaction, as a yes.

This time, Charles takes his time. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone so softly — as if you’re made of glass and could break at any moment — and sliding lower, the pad of his finger brushing against your bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, gaze fixed on your plump lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” You try try to think about it, to remember the very first time you thought about Charles being more than a friend. But it seems like it has always been that way.

“Forever.” Charles finishes for you.

Yes! Your insides scream.

“Would you let me show you?”

You frown, titling your hear to the side. “What?”

“How much I want you.”

There’s no need to verbally say yes, you find that is so much better if you show him. So, you kiss him.

Kissing Charles feels like walking in a soft, pillowy cloud, like everything is falling back into place, like things are how they always should have been.

There is warmth blossoming in your chest, fireworks exploding all around you as Charles leans in closer, lips exploring each other for the first time. You hold onto Charles' shoulder as if you're gonna fall and wake up, realize that this was just a dream. You don't want it to be a dream.

You let him guide you to the bed as his hands rest on your hips, wrinkling the bathrobe with his hands.

His lips are soft yet the kiss is demanding. Your lips part slightly, allowing Charles' tongue to slip inside and explore your mouth.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulls away. His pupils are dilated and his breathing erratic. "You don't—" He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying and ground himself. Charles takes your hand, silently asking for permission and, when you nod, guides it to his crotch, making you feel how hard he is. "You don't even know the effect you have on me."

Charles doesn't give you time to answer, not even to think about anything but how much you want to kiss him, and feel him, and be his.

"Can I unfasten this?" He asks, lips trailing kisses down your neck. You nod your approval, but Charles shakes his head. "I need words, baby."

"Yes," You don't recognize your own voice, it's feels strange to your ears. "Yes, you can."

Charles smiles, grazing his teeth along your neck, nipping and sucking along the way. You moan when he sucks right above your pulse point.

He takes his time unfastening your bathrobe, letting it fall slowly the floor. In seconds, you're completely bare in front of him. You should feel ashamed, a part of you actually feels embarrassed to be naked in front on a man — in front of Charles. But right now, desire and longing are coursing through your veins, clouding your mind. Your body screams for Charles.

Charles hands are soft on your skin, he splays them on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart; it makes him smile.

"Would you lay down for me?" He purrs. And who are you to say no?

With shaky legs you climb onto the bed, lying down against the pillows. You can still hear the movie playing in the background, but you couldn't care less, not right now.

You can only watch as Charles removes every piece of clothing from his body. You knew Charles was well toned, you have seen Charles without a shirt, but seeing him here in your room, in a whole different context, makes you close your legs and lift your hips from the bed, searching for something, anything that only Charles can give you.

He rubs his hands up your legs, rubbing your thighs, as he climbs on top of you. His lips find yours one more time, your breath quivering.

"So pretty." Charles grunts, basking in your beauty. It lasts only a couple of seconds because you hide behind your hands. "No need to hide, baby." He pulls your hands away, sliding them over your collarbone, stopping on your chest and grabbing your breasts.

You arch your back against his touch, moans spilling from your mouth and filling the room.

"So good, so, so good." You blurt out, getting lost in the pleasure his hands are giving you, pinching and squeezing your breasts. One of his hands is replaced for his mouth, and you have to force yourself to open your eyes to see the view of Charles on top of you, making you come undone with his mouth.

His left hand leaves your breast as his mouth keeps the assault on your breast, he slowly lowers it to part your legs, making you squirm.

You've never been this wet before, and Charles notices the moment his fingers make contact with your cunt. Charles begins to rub circles on your throbbing clit, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Please," You beg, the only word leaving your lips over and over again.

Charles takes pity on you, knowing exactly what you need. So, he gives it to you; one of his fingers slips in, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

"So good for me." Charles croons, taking your lips with his own, swallowing all your moans. "You think you can take my cock, pretty girl?" He asks, slipping in another finger, pressing them upward. Your brain feels fuzzy, but in such a good way. You don't need to be asked twice, a yes leaves you lips immediately as you grind your hips desperately into his hand.

"I can, Charles—please I can take it." You moan, making Charles slow his movements.

Charles pulls out his fingers, and you whine desperately at the loss. "I got you, baby." But then a thought crosses his mind and he curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a second. "I don't—shit I don't have a condom."

You make grabby hands, making him lean forward so you can touch him. You cup his face with your hands, eyes finding his green ones. There's sweat on his forehead, his face flushed, and you think that post-race Charles and bedroom Charles are definitely battling to win first place.

"We're both clean, I know." You graze your fingers over his pecs, making him shudder. "Just—please, Charlie. I need you."

Who is he to say no to you?

The mere thought of fucking you bare is enough to send his mind reeling.

Charles aligns himself between your legs, the tip of his cock gathering your wetness and making you both moan at the feeling.

You dig your nails in his shoulder as he slowly starts to bury himself inside of you. Charles leans to kiss you, and is messy and wet, tongues and spit mix together as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him moan against your mouth. So you do it again.

Charles kisses you with so much desperation, desire consuming you both. He bottoms out and you can't reciprocate the kiss anymore, not when he stars slamming his hips, setting an agonizing pace.

Charles fucks you into the bed wincing as he feels you bite his shoulder, a poor attempt of trying not to scream and let the whole hotel floor know what you are doing.

"How does it feel? Is that what you wanted, uh?" He groans, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, feels so good, Char. So good." Your whole body is burning, you feel so deliciously filled.

Charles bends your legs, pushing them against your chest as he finds a new angle to keep on fucking you. He starts thrusting faster, holding onto your legs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

It's too much. You don't even have time nor words to warn him before you are coming, clenching around Charles' cock.

"So tight. So. Fucking. Tight." Charles whispers, pace faltering as he feels his own climax approaching. He keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess, and you let Charles use you as much as he likes, you let it know that over and over again.

"That's it, baby. 'm gonna come now," Those are Charles' final words as he pulls out, pumping himself a few more times until he's painting your chest with his cum.

Charles plops down on the bed next to you, both panting and completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

You turn to look at him, fingers playing with his cum on your chest. The only thing you can do is nod, too exhausted to even to talk.

"What? Did I fuck your brains out?" Charles teases, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. It's so innocent and soft, the total opposite of what you did just moments ago.

"Shut up!" You breathe out, giggling. There is still a buzzing in your ears and a tingling sensation in your cunt. But you feel good.

"Come on," He says, standing up and reaching for your hands.

You frown, standing on shaky legs. He teases you some more and you end up pushing him away.

"What are we doing?"

"Taking a bath," He explains, tugging at your hand. "We need to clean you up."

"I just took a shower, this is all your fault." You complain, his green eyes boring into you.

"You liked it." It's not a question.

He tugs at your hand again and you follow, you really would follow Charles to the end of the world. Charles can't hide the big, stupid smile on his face. "You said you were watching a movie, so, we are going to watch a movie."

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader

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yok00k · 4 months

Text

telepatía

pairing: idol!jk x model!oc

genre: fluff!

“a kilómetros estamos conectando”

—synopsis: when you’re getting ready for a party and jungkook, who’s thousands kilometers away from you, wants to video call.

word count: 1,082

warning: ldr, they’re disguisingly so cute, the word “baby” was said for about 1 million times it’s sickening, different timezones, oc dress in front of jk, mention of insomnia, anxiety, stress, mention of an uncomfy situation of oc where other men were being men, protective jk (this jk is not a manipulator, trust), 1st person pov(im so sorry)

author’s note: my second drabble/fluff!!! this was shorter than I wanted it to be but there will be few (idk how many, it depends to the future me) series of idol!jk x model!oc. <the meaning of ‘mahal ko’ means ‘my love’ in filipino>

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Taking a cold shower after having an intense leg day plus cardio at the gym hits so different. I feel like a brand new person after getting out of my bathroom. I then settle down in front of my vanity table and begin doing my skin care + makeup. As I finished a smooth base of foundation, my phone vibrated.

2 messages received from

mahal ko🐰🤍

|| hey baby

|| can we facetime plz? wanna see u

[10:33 pm]

his text was unanticipated at this hour since it’s 5 am in Korea.

|| sure bb

[10:34 pm]

mahal ko wants to facetime

drop everything i have with my hands, i swiftly hit the green button, eagerly to see and hear his voice. we’re mostly texting these days because of having different time zones and working schedules to follow. Oftentimes when he’s free and wants to facetime me, I would be either at work or sleeping and vice versa.

“hi pretty!!” he cheerfully greeted me as my phone screen revealed his cute sleepy face. As usual, he’s wearing one of the eight Supreme beanies i got for him when I was in Tokyo. [side story: i was just strolling in the streets of Harajuku when i found this one clothing store that has a lot of stuffs i know jungkook would like and that’s when i bought those comfy beanies along with other nice things]^_^

“helloo, my ggukie can't sleep?” i asked while finding something i can lean my phone on so that i can continue doing my makeup

“응.. i'm trying to sleep but can’t.“ he simply explained as he placed his phone on the side of his bed, moving his naked body to a more comfortable lying position. His arm filled with cool, artistic tattoos is out and on sight, while his other arm were covered with the thick white comforter, so as his entire body.

“What's been going on in your mind?” I know that something is bothering him at times like this. i get that having the job and lifestyle he has, isn’t merely easy. the pressure, the media, the fans, everything. But although he deals with all these things, I never once heard him complain about them because he knows that that’s what he signed up for the day he chose to pursue being an idol.

“Just been stressed lately with rehearsals and I'm still jet lagged, maybe I have insomnia? ‘m not sure but it’s driving me crazy. now i get what u mean when u say ur body is tired and ready to sleep but ur mind isn’t.” he further describes how he feels. The worry and anxiety is written in his facial expression.

“my poor kookie you could’ve call me earlier and i would help you to fall asleep”

“but you were at the gym. i know you like blasting reggaeton music while working out.” he pouty responds. well, in his defense he’s right. I love that he remembers small details about me but nothing can top my love for him.

“i do that but I prefer listening to my boyfriend’s angelic voice while working out so that i’ll have motivation to do more reps.” replied to him right off the bat. realistically i meant what i said. I usually don’t like talking to people when doing workouts but he is an exception.

I received no words but a soft laugh. He must have thought I was kidding. I took a glance at him before I put lipgloss on[his favorite shade].

i can see him covering the blush he has all over his face. i'm very glad to see him having relief.

‘’Where is my pretty girl up to? hmm?” he curiously asks as i put highlights as my last step to finish up the look

“just going to the club for Sakura’s birthday party, i'm running out of social energy almost every day because of work and parties but I can't miss this event” I explained as I headed over to my walk-in closet.

“hmm ‘kay tell her i said happy birthday. what are you gonna wear?”

“well i'm debating on wearing a black leather mini skirt with this asymmetrical black top and for shoes i have this black knee high boots or i just go with this simple black mini backless dress with these red bottoms high heels” i say as i show him all the clothes. he and I almost have the same taste in fashion. if we were to combine all of our clothes, they are pretty much all black. whenever it’s shoes, jackets, tops, pants, etc. this is why buying clothes for one another isn’t difficult for us.

“What did I tell you about mini skirts bb?” oh. i forgot that he allows me to wear mini skirts unless i’m with him since an incident happened when i was in the club and random guys were making me so uncomfortable by giving disguising lust looks and nastily commenting on my skirts. Although he and I know that no matter what a girl wears, guys in the clubs will act like animals regardless. He told me to not wear it because he’s controlling me but rather because he won’t be there to protect me if something happens.

“ok then the second choice it is” i confirmed, putting the first outfit choice back to where they belong.

“how about you wear that mini skirt when we go on a date? how’s that sound?” he suggests.

“ok then ggukie”

“dress in front of me?” he boyishly asks, using his deep alluring voice. He definitely knows what he’s doing. How can I say no to him?

After dressing, I proceeded to put on the Cartier necklace with his initials in it that he gifted to me when he first came to visit my penthouse in Chicago.

“still have my oversized leather jacket with you?” he inquire before he yawned

“yupp, why?” I curiously asked

“bring it with you please. i don’t want you getting cold in there” he softly requested. him and his simple gestures make me fall in love with him deeper.

“i will baby thank you”

“i love you ___, don’t look at other men” jk murmur jokingly. Well, I hope he said that in a humorous way for the reason that I assure him with my sincere words almost every hour.

“ I love you more gguk i’ll update you ok?” he just hums, waving his hands leisurely to say goodbye.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkookxreader #jungkook imagine #jeon jk #jungkook ff #jjk x you #bts jk #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #SoundCloud

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Here’s the thing: Jeff isn’t actually a meddler by nature.

He’s perfectly content to let people be. He keeps himself to himself and is happy when others do the same. It’s not that he’s never curious, it’s just that he asks personal questions sparingly. And he’s probably going to ask them even more sparingly in the future, because the last time he’d asked one, he’d accidentally broken up one of his best friend’s relationships.

In fairness to Jeff, that relationship was going to blow up sooner rather than later (that is, in fact, exactly what Eddie had said to him when they’d talked a few days after the incident in question; Eddie had even said that he thinks he’d needed the wakeup call, though he’d have preferred it hadn’t happened the way it did – the way that hurt Steve so much. All the same, he seems determined to make things right, so– maybe not the worst thing in the world?), but still, Jeff feels a little… guilty isn’t quite the word, but he doesn’t have a better name for the squirm of emotion in his gut when he catches sight of Steve at Melvald’s one evening.

He hasn’t seen Steve in over a week, now – not since he’d abruptly left Eddie’s place after being unceremoniously informed that his boyfriend (Jeff’s pretty sure that’s the train Steve had been on) is apparently not actually his boyfriend.

And it isn’t as though he or Gareth or Oliver had really hung out with Steve sans Eddie before, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be willing; Jeff’s experience with Steve Harrington in high school had been peripheral at best, and though he hadn’t had the best impression of him at first, he’d actually come to enjoy his company since he started hanging around Eddie after that disaster of a spring break. He doesn’t know much about D&D (though Jeff suspects he knows a lot more than he lets on), and he’s not particularly into fantasy or sci-fi, but he does have a bizarrely encyclopedic knowledge of sports, and had been excited to learn that Jeff is into baseball and hockey.

He's just as bitchy as Jeff had always thought he was, but he’s also unexpectedly kind, and funny in a way that had caught all of them off guard, and largely seems like a solid sort of guy.

And Jeff just feels kind of shitty that the last time they hung out had ended the way it had, that’s all.

That is his main excuse for why he approaches Steve in the cereal aisle at Melvald’s at 8 p.m. on a Friday.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

Steve turns, brows furrowed as he looks to see who’s trying to get his attention, clearly not expecting any kind of social encounter, but his expression clears a bit when he sees Jeff. “Oh. Uh– Hey,” he says. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I don’t seem like the type to eat breakfast cereal?” Jeff teases, and a little bit of the tension in Steve’s shoulders seems to ease away.

“More like I thought I was the only person lame enough to be grocery shopping on a Friday night,” he counters with a smirk.

“You might be,” Jeff says, though he keeps his voice warm. “I just stopped in to pick up some snacks for the weekend after– uh,” Jeff stops short; shit, why did he bring that up?

Steve stares at him for a moment, calculating, and Jeff sees the moment he makes the connection.

“Hellfire tonight, right?” Steve asks, his tone almost unnervingly neutral as he looks back towards the shelves.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, still watching Steve carefully. “Just ended about half an hour ago.”

Steve gives a slow nod. “How was it?”

And – well, there are two options from here. Jeff could take Steve’s polite interest at face value, tell him it was a good session, and let them both awkwardly get on with their nights, or… He could be truthful, and maybe see how Steve’s really doing (which would also be awkward, so it’s not like Jeff really has much to lose).

“To be honest? Not great.” Jeff shrugs. “Eddie hasn’t been in good form lately.”

He can see the curve of a sad sort of smile cross Steve’s face, just briefly.

“That sucks, man. Hope he, uh… gets his head back in the game soon, I guess?” Steve offers.

Whether he does or not will probably be entirely dependent on how his plans to fix things with Steve play out; Eddie hadn’t told Jeff much (apparently, he’s done accidentally flying his dirty laundry for the time being), but he had said that Steve had asked for a little time, and that they would be talking again soon.

“I think he’s working on it,” Jeff says, rather than digging into that particular can of worms. “And, uh… How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Steve says a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Jeff pauses for a minute, pursing his lips and staring up at the ceiling. Is he really doing this? On a Friday night at fucking Melvald’s?

“It just sucks,” he finally says, “that…”

“That you all had to see that I’m actually an oversensitive loser when you realized I’d basically made up an entire relationship and then ran out over it like an idiot?” Steve suggests, his tone so false and light that it sets Jeff on edge.

“That Eddie couldn’t see that he had something really good in front of him. That he completely fumbled it,” Jeff corrects him.

It’s only after he’s spoken that he remembers they’re in a public place, and that talking to one guy about his relationship with another guy isn’t particularly safe. He glances around, hoping it’s not too little, too late, and is relieved to find that the store is just as empty as it had been when he’d first stepped in. When he looks back to Steve, he finds him staring, brows furrowed like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“Isn’t Eddie one of your best friends?” Steve asks at last.

Jeff shrugs. “Makes me qualified to point out when he’s been an idiot.”

Steve says nothing, just pins Jeff with that confused stare for a moment longer before turning back to the shelf, as if he might finally decide on what cereal he wants.

“If it helps at all,” Jeff says, more quietly this time, “the reason we were even talking about it is because I asked Eddie how it was going – the two of you dating. We all thought you were. We were– well, probably not just as surprised as you, but pretty damn surprised when Eddie said you weren’t.”

“That… actually does. A little,” Steve answers softly, cutting a quick glance at Jeff. “Thanks.”

Jeff shrugs. “It’s just– Eddie’s not– he’s not a bad guy. He gets caught up in things, and he forgets to pay attention, but he wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

“I know,” Steve says, not quite sharp, but not quite gentle, either.

“Sorry, I’m not… trying to talk him up. I swear I’m not here advocating for him, or whatever.” Jeff sighs. “You’re totally within your rights to tell him to fuck off—hell, you can tell me to fuck off—I just wanted to say that if he tells you he’s sorry, if he says he wants to fix it, he really does mean it.”

“Yeah. I know,” Steve says again, and this time he sounds gentle – a little soft and distant.

Jeff reaches up and clasps one hand over Steve’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing him. “Anyway, if we’re not going to be seeing you at any of the regular places, you should come over and catch a game sometime.”

It seems like a given that Steve won’t be sitting in on anymore Hellfire sessions for a while, or coming to see their gigs at The Hideout like he had been (he’s already missed one, and they had all pretended not to notice the way Eddie had completely ignored the side of the room with the table where Steve would usually sit and watch), but Jeff finds himself unwilling to let go of his friendship entirely.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, glancing over again.

“Sure.” Jeff shrugs. “Offer stands. Gareth and Oliver’d be happy to see you, too.”

“They’re not into sports,” Steve says.

“But they can be bribed with snacks,” Jeff answers, and Steve gives a huff of a laugh.

“Cool,” he says, the first real smile Jeff’s seen from him all night beginning to cross his face. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

Jeff smirks at him. “Will you have your people call my people?” he teases, and Steve reaches out to give his shoulder a light shove.

“Fuck off, man,” he snickers.

“Only because I have other things to do,” Jeff says, heading back down the aisle the way he’d come. “Night, Harrington.”

“Night,” Steve calls back after him, sounding a bit lighter than when Jeff had found him.

Feeling a little lighter himself, Jeff snags an extra package of Ho Ho’s on the way to the register. He figures he’s earned it.

Part 6

Tag List (Now full, I'm sorry! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #steve harrington #jeff stranger things #steve & jeff #steve & corroded coffin #stranger things #sorry this bit's short but it's going to pick up soon!#solar wrote

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13uswntimagines · 3 months

Text

13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird.

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you.

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice.

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them.

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew.

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves.

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask.

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you.

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight.

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland.

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other.

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction.

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again.

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face.

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,”

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head.

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations.

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been.

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime.

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team.

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,”

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her.

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,”

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,”

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin.

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey.

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes.

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces.

You didn’t need to see it.

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,”

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills.

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true.

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help.

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group.

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you.

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill.

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path.

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,”

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,”

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much.

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby.

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal.

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out.

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands.

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head.

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner.

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork.

“Not bad,”

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT.

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again.

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you.

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,”

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,”

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,”

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that.

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,”

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot.

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back.

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up.

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal.

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel.

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup.

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish.

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net.

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options.

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much.

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio?

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot.

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,”

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out).

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics.

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do.

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick.

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look.

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play.

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick.

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot.

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips.

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second.

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes.

At least someone else saw it too.

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,”

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team.

You would take any help you could get.

*****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you.

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower.

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her.

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender. “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did.

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley.

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,”

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together.

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone.

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,”

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,”

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,”

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before.

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,”

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table.

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks.

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,”

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you.

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop.

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,”

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,”

“She’s my friend,” You muttered.

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,”

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,”

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted.

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,”

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again.

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted.

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer.

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York.

“At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed.

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her.

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too.

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal.

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,”

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,”

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,”

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter.

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,”

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her.

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down.

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,”

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat.

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair.

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,”

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid.

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it.

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth.

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it.

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness.

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping.

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,”

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite.

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list.

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you.

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,”

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes.

You couldn’t meet her eyes.

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced.

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much.

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder.

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you.

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you.

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,”

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,”

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself.

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,”

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,”

Alex nodded.

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia.

But she could see that you were not fine.

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it.

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,”

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand.

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot.

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,”

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes.

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to.

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old.

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics.

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening.

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,”

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot.

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions.

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest.

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability.

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,”

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,”

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle.

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work.

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help.

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed.

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,”

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer.

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio.

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,”

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that.

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses.

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,”

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time.

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,”

You hummed, turning away.

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal.

But she wished it didn’t sting as much.

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast.

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying.

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough.

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York.

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip.

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk.

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,”

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,”

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense.

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove.

You had everything to prove.

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,”

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,”

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team.

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset.

You had proven them wrong.

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone.

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor.

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio.

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team.

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently.

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?”

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,”

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second.

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?”

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question.

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started.

It was the nice thing about camp.

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you.

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing.

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you.

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was.

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in?

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call.

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand. “come on,”

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen.

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,”

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,”

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought.

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend.

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness.

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter.

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal.

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back.

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there.

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue.

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration.

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York.

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable.

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor.

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship.

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled.

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor.

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder.

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease.

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,”

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,”

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting.

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,”

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise.

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,”

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,”

You didn’t want to be too… forward.

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same.

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,”

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested.

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably.

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche.

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it.

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,” She said, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,”

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates.

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot.

Taylor was your friend.

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,”

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her.

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,”

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching.

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks.

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind.

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass.

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar.

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling.

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away.

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor.

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,”

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second.

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone.

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles.

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes.

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge.

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said.

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips.

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it.

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously.

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

“I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip.

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,”

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass.

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded.

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18.

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,”

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed.

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects.

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship.

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,”

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,”

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message.

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again.

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head.

But this was different.

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted.

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to.

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly,

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”

Taylor bit her lip.

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was.

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,”

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,”

“Thanks,”

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading.

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on.

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it.

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans.

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway.

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist.

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest.

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door.

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate.

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls.

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her.

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door.

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat.

“Is Y/n here?”

Her voice came out shaky, horse.

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope.

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively.

“Oh,”

Taylor’s whole being deflated.

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?”

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends.

Why had you lied?

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it.

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,”

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out.

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,”

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed.

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin?

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting.

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you.

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,”

“Thanks,”

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand.

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,”

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise.

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin.

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had.

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange.

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you.

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show.

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust.

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater.

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt.

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do.

“Y/n,”

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater.

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked.

“Y/n, wait!”

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear.

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo.

“Y/n,”

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned.

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well.

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you.

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,”

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,”

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway.

At least the 51st station was heated.

“Y/n wait,”

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you.

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her.

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young.

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway.

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence.

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain.

It was like your brain had short-circuited.

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her.

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,”

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes.

Taylor kissed you.

She kissed you in the rain.

Taylor liked you.

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything.

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss.

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces.

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck.

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs.

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90.

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again.

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows.

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through.

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,”

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,”

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket.

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold.

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor.

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,”

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it.

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,”

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,”

You raised an eyebrow at her.

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car.

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam.

You shut down that thought.

It didn’t matter.

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper.

You didn’t feel cold.

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,”

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,”

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll.

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek.

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips.

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her.

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head.

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again.

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt.

Maybe Emily was right.

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet.

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender.

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else.

But she couldn’t want you.

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice.

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees.

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you.

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint.

But maybe she did want you.

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking.

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room.

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place.

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,”

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?”

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,”

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,”

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,”

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie.

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,”

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you.

Except…

your eyes closed.

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain.

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say.

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister.

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it.

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?”

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little.

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you.

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,”

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget.

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong.

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality.

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about.

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing.

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,”

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,”

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly.

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior.

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed.

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave.

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air,

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home.

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east.

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants.

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning.

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood.

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces.

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win.

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you.

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged.

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way.

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots.

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,”

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them.

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it.

No one else had to know that.

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight.

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off.

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats.

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,”

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower.

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,”

You met her eyes, swallowing hard.

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her.

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,”

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair.

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,”

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett.

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door.

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,”

Before slamming the locker room door shut.

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you.

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages.

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to.

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code.

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone.

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway.

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her.

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet.

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there.

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized.

“Hey hotshot,”

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view.

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants.

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it.

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features.

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes.

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,”

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own.

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you.

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game.

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly.

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,”

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to.

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours.

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug.

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you.

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,”

It was true.

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones.

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain.

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,”

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble.

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,”

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can.

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand.

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks.

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless.

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back.

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway.

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh.

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car.

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity.

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment.

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well.

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door.

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you.

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable.

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain.

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point.

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,”

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it). “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster.

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern.

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her.

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you.

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,”

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker.

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,”

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water.

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool.

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings.

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm.

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words.

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom.

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor.

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool.

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish.

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes.

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,”

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there.

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear.

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone.

Not even Mal.

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water.

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,”

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,”

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?”

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her.

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor.

It was sweet and spicy and addictive.

And it made you want her.

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations.

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin.

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer.

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you.

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?”

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,”

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,”

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm.

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off.

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer.

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off.

Except it’s where your mind always went.

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers.

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable.

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin.

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted.

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface.

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,”

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,”

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool.

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,”

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom.

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets.

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,”

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,”

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left).

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen.

There had to be something fucking wrong with you.

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach.

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet.

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change.

You took another deep breath.

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse.

You could be normal.

You could save your friendship.

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom.

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,”

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,”

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,”

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water.

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip.

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle.

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,”

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,”

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,”

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,”

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers.

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder.

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs.

Safe territory.

Territory that put you in control of the pace.

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front.

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass.

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point.

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach.

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff.

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue.

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,”

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her.

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line.

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward.

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub.

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down.

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,”

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach.

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,”

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,”

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,”

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek.

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her.

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done.

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask.

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,”

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,”

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?”

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,”

It was the truth.

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way.

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead.

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all.

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite.

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams.

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours.

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you.

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for.

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back.

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup.

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup.

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-.

You let out a long breath from your nose.

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that.

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that.

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin.

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,”

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces.

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her.

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave.

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return.

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight.

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you.

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,”

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign.

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it.

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway.

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you.

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it.

“And you thought I’d want to talk,”

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face.

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team.

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that.

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor.

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?”

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way.

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,”

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her.

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before.

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with.

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head.

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine.

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed.

She was still your friend.

You spat the word in your mind.

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor.

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you.

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer.

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,”

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did.

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?”

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,”

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed.

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,”

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected.

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.”

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop.

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,”

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off.

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on.

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence.

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,”

“But the middle?” She asked.

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck.

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel.

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk.

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut.

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started.

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood.

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running.

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again.

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,”

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind.

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence.

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go.

You swallowed hard and matched her nod.

You could do slow steps.

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street.

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you.

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?”

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,”

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited.

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway.

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you.

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup.

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work.

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver.

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery.

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no.

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?”

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,”

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?”

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears.

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you.

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,”

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend.

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you.

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that.

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm.

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,”

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow.

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened.

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?”

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,”

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed.

How would things change? What would she expect?

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest.

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her.

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady.

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,”

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #13 eras of us

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