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needtochangemyname · 4 months

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13 Eras of Us (Taylor Swift x Morgan!R): Era 1 - We Were Both Young When I First Saw You

Request: Taylor Swift x Alex morgan's little sister. They start off as friends and realize that there may be something more.

Chapter synopsis: 1 of 13: The era where everything begins. R and Taylor meet, and become friends. Composed of little moments between them, r and the Team and R and her sister.

Notes: Hey dudes, i'm really really stoked about this series, and i really hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think.

July, 2015

We were both young when I first saw you

You sighed, gripping the rubber handles of your crutches, leaning more heavily onto the foam padding under your arms despite the ache it caused from the constant chafing. It was an annoying consequence of your injury.

A secondary effect that the trainers hadn’t told you about when they convinced you that an Achilles tear wasn’t something you could walk off. When they swore up and down that the two other liniments in your ankle were holding on by threads and absolutely could not hold your weight for another 5 weeks.

You still hadn’t gotten used to them, not that you really had the chance.

They were a fairly new addition to your wardrobe, made necessary by one bad tackle only 20 minutes into your first game in Canada, effectively ruining your World Cup run (something you were still bummed about despite your team actually winning the World Cup- not that you would call yourself a World Cup Winner).

You let out another breath, unable to stop the smile on your face as the lights shifted to highlight the woman on stage.

She was absolutely mesmerizing in her shimmery silver dress, and it was nice to get to watch without the team lingering behind you. It was the only good thing about being injured.

You didn’t have to go on the stage with them.

Alas, you were lucky you got to come to the 1989 tour with the team at all. Taylor Swift had only invited the 2015 World Cup winners.

It was one of the few benefits of being The Alex Morgan’s little sister you supposed. She sent a text and then you had been invited too.

It strangely made you feel like a 10-year-old chasing after her and her new college friends, going to places where you just didn’t belong. But then again, you felt that way any time you spent more than an hour with your older sister since she left your sobbing form in the driveway as she headed off to Berkley.

Things hadn’t been the same between you since, and all of her efforts just felt like a weird form of a twisted apology, even now.

It was like you were her charity case or something, and that didn’t sit right with you.

Still, you were grateful she had pulled the strings to get you backstage to one of your favorite singer’s shows. God knew you wouldn’t have survived well in the crowd, especially not now that you could barely stand on your own.

“Pretty spectacular isn’t it?”

You flinched at the voice, jerking away from the woman standing close enough to your left side to also be able to see the stage, but not too close. Just like she had been all night.

She reached out a steadying hand as the crutches wobbled dangerously underneath you, an easy smile never leaving her features.

You swallowed hard, trying to form words to say anything to Taylor’s mom.

You weren’t big into fandom or social media, but you still knew who she was, and it felt weird meeting her (definitely not because you had a massive crush on her daughter- or the character her daughter pretended to be on stage).

“She’s amazing,” You finally managed to force the words from your throat, turning back towards the flashing lights on stage and around the stadium.

Andrea hummed. “She is. You’re pretty amazing too,”

She had heard about your… reputation but all she had seen from you tonight was a shy kid desperately searching for something. Exactly what that something was she couldn’t put her finger, but she suspected it had to do with the way you were watching your older sister interact all night.

You shrugged, your shoulders collapsing in on you just a bit. “Right now I’m gimpy, and I couldn’t imagine having the control over an audience that she does,”

Andrea made a low noise, thinking better than to argue with you. She didn’t know you well enough for a debate.

She didn’t want to interrupt you any more than she had anyway.

The way you were staring at the stage was a sight to behold, to say the least, your lip trapped between your teeth and your eyes filled with wonder.

She had seen many fans in her days, but there was just something… different about how you watched the show. The tender adoration in your eyes was beautiful, and it made the mom in her wonder what the future would hold for you and her daughter.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as style came to an end and your sister disappeared below the stage.

You smiled towards Andrea. “I better go before they think I tried to escape,”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Is that something you’ve done before?”

You shrugged again, your grin turning impish.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” You winked as you started to maneuver yourself back towards where you knew Alex would be coming out, and Andreas' laugh sounded from behind you.

That had been the point after all hadn't it?

Still, you were slightly relieved when your sister stepped through the curtain that separated the stage from the backstage area.

While Andrea and the stage managers had been as welcoming as they could be, you still hadn’t felt like you belonged. You hadn’t been the one invited after all. It also helped that you would be getting out of the noise until Taylor got off stage and was ready for the mini meet and greet the team planned.

“How did that crowd feel?” You asked as Alex approached you, and the crowd at the front of the stage cheered again, painting an interested smile across your features.

It felt electric from the audience, so you could only imagine what it felt like being on stage,

“Really good,” Alex smiled widely, wiggling the trophy in her arms just a bit. “Like World Cup good,”

“It’s insane how she can control a room like that,”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. You felt her slow down beside you and her eyes searched your face. “Don’t even think about it,”

“What?” You asked, your tongue poking out of your mouth as you focused on keeping up with the team.

“I know you and I know that look,” She said seriously. “She’s my age, and you’re not 18 for another 10 days,”

You shrugged. “So?”

You hadn’t been planning on hitting on America's top superstar, but you would never miss an opportunity to mess with your older sister. Plus, you didn’t see the harm in flirting.

It was a fundamental part of your personality after all.

“Y/n I’m serious,”

Your lips pulled into a playful smirk, glancing up at her as she held the door to a small room for you. “And I’m committed to not being serious,”

It was no secret that your… extracurricular activities had picked up since your injury, and you had done little to mask your enjoyment of the league's hookup culture since you joined in lew of going to college.

What annoyed Alex more was that no one in North Carolina would step up and help her stop you.

“Y/n,” Alex let out a suffering sigh, catching the crutch before you could hobble away.

“Look, she’s out of my league, and it’s criminal to not tell a gorgeous woman how gorgeous she is,”

“Kid’s got a point,” Kelley said, appearing at your other side and sending you a small wink. “Shooting my shot is how I landed you after all,”

“That’s true baby horse,” Cheney said, grabbing a coke off of the large catering table that dominated the room. “It’s also how Toby got Chris,”

“How did we get roped into this?” Tobin groaned, her slightly red-rimmed eyes going wide, popping a grape in her mouth.

Kelley snorted. “You got roped into this because you asked Chris out after you beat her in the college cup, while she was still on the field,”

“You fucking proposed to Alex after your team beat her in a shootout,” Christen snickered, shaking her head. “You literally have no room to talk,”

You chucked at Kelley’s blush, barely noticing the new body that had entered the room and was leaning up against the doorframe next to you.

“Sounds like the field is a very active place for you guys,” The voice said, and you snapped your head to meet the most gorgeous blue eyes you had ever seen in your entire life. “Though your timing seems… questionable,”

“Tay!”

“That was an amazing show,”

“Dude, that crowd is nuts. It’s like they’re eating out of the palm of your hand,”

Taylor smiled widely at the team, her eyes glimmering in the dressing room light. “Well thank you, it was an absolute pleasure to get to share the stage with you all tonight,”

She pushed off of the wall, and your eyes followed her like she was a magnet. She looked so… graceful even in a pair of sweats.

“The pleasure was all ours,” Cheney grinned back at her. “it was a blast, thank you again for inviting us,”

“Anything to bring more visibility to what you guys do,” Taylor nodded, looking over the catering table and picking sparkling water from the selection. “It’s empowering to young girls everywhere,”

You were drawn to her hands as they flexed around the bottle. To her lips as she timed her sips so she could continue her conversation with Cheney. She was so elegant.

Even in your sexcapades, you had never been so… taken with someone.

“This is my younger sister, Y/n,” You blinked away from Taylor and towards Alex, and back, feeling taken slightly off guard. You hadn’t realized you zoned out.

The blonde singer nodded towards you, waving the bottle. “Hey. I’m Taylor,”

“I’m Y/n,” Your lips quirked up, and you stuck your hand out for her to take, bringing it to your lips when she did. “And I’m your wildest dream,”

“Very smooth,” Taylor chuckled, pulling her hand back, and you could have sworn she had a little bit of pink dusting her cheeks.

“Smoother than a fresh jar of skippy,” You winked back, earning an ever louder giggle from the singer.

The room erupted into laughter, and you sent a proud smirk toward your sister.

She shook her head. “Don’t encourage her. She’s been practicing all week for this,”

“Well I can’t practice soccer, so what did you expect?” You shrugged as much as you could over the crutches. “I need to use my talents for something,”

“I think it was amazing,” Taylor cut in, grinning.

“See!”

Alex rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She had obviously been outvoted. It would be a fun story to tell your future significant other anyway.

“It’s very nice to meet you Y/n,” Taylor said, sobering. “I was happy you could make it, even if you weren’t on the squad,”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You nodded, your dimples on full display. “Thanks for the invite,”

“No way I would exclude one of my favorite players,” She hummed. “I was so sad when you got hurt,”

You felt heat in your cheeks, traveling up to your ears. Taylor knew who you were. She liked to watch you play.

You swallowed hard. “I should be up and playing again within the next couple of months,”

Your PT promised you that as long as you followed the plan, you’d be back and playing by the end of the season. With the way Paul was pushing you, you knew you’d probably be back sooner.

“Well, if you’re ever in New York let me know,” She said, pulling out her phone and opening the texting app before passing it to you. “I’d love to see a game,”

You took the offered item, quickly typing in your number. “Yeah, I’m sure I can get you and the squad good seats,”

She sent you one last smile before she turned back towards the team. “I’ve gotta go, but it was nice to see you all again,”

You stared at her, as she waved and left, not actually believing what had just happened.

Your bad pickup line had gotten you The Taylor Swift’s number, and she wanted to see a game.

*****

September, 2015

We play dumb, but we know exactly what we’re doing

You never expect Taylor to actually text you. Hell, you weren’t convinced that the phone she let you text yourself from wasn’t a business phone.

But as it turned out, Taylor did text you.

First, it was a simple text asking about your recovery because a commentator had mentioned it. Then the conversation between the two of you just didn’t stop.

And you realized very quickly that you never wanted it to stop.

You found that Taylor was up at all of the weird hours you were and that no matter what she was doing, she was never too busy to say hello. Then texting turned into hanging out when you were in New York, Florida, or California, and before you knew it, it was a regular occurrence.

“I fucking suck at this,” You groaned, letting go of the guitar strings and flopping onto your back. “And my fingers hurt now. I’m pretty sure they’re bleeding,”

You held them up in the air pretending to examine them for the little flecks of red you were sure you would find there.

“No, you just haven’t practiced enough to build calluses,” Taylor said, and you could hear the eye roll in her voice.

“I got enough of them on my feet thank you,” You muttered, looking up at her through your eyelashes and wiggling your fingers at her. “I don’t need guitar string scars on my hands too,”

She caught your hand, smoothing it over her palm. “Don’t be overdramatic,”

“Me!” You exclaimed indignantly, holding your hand to your chest in mock offense.

“Yes,” Taylor smirked. “This isn’t soccer where you can flop about,”

You frowned. “I don’t flop,”

She raised an eyebrow at you, and you pouted. “Fine. I don’t flop often, and not unless it’s necessary,”

“Whatever you say,” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Sit up and I’ll help you,”

You pouted but did as she asked, pushing yourself back to sit, crossing your legs so you could hold the guitar like she had shown you the first time you did this.

Her lips ticked up at you, and she scooted so your knees were touching.

“Alright so g,” She said, positioning her fingers on the string, waiting for you to copy her.

You tried, moving each finger to the strings. “Like this?”

“Not quite,” She said, leaning forward and moving your pinky. “That one goes on the low e,”

You nodded, trying not to blush at how close she was to you. So close that you could smell her coconut shampoo.

“Now, strum slowly,” She said, leaning back and demonstrating.

You did your best to copy her, slowly drawing the pick across each of the strings, but instead of making the beautiful chord she was, it made an off-key wamp.

“I’m hopeless,” You said dramatically dropping your pick and flopping back on her fluffy carpet. “Worse than the whole Tom Sermanni debacle,”

She sighed and took the guitar off, maneuvering so she was sitting next to you. “I didn’t know you were so easily discouraged. I thought with all the sports, you’d have some resiliency,”

“I’m good at soccer,” You shrugged. “My fingers aren’t long enough or sting enough for guitar,”

“Were you good at soccer to begin with?” Taylor asked you softly.

You scrunched your nose. The truth was that you had been playing soccer too long to remember when you started. It was always a part of your life.

“No,” You said finally, biting your lip. “Alex absolutely destroyed me any time we practiced. She even stepped on my neck one time with her rain cleats and gave me a scar,”

You pointed to the small dimple just below your chin. Sure it had been an accident, but it ultimately was the reason you were a midfielder instead of a forward.

When you were young, Alex had always been better than you. More competitive, more ruthless, and she didn’t go easy on you in practice. It’s what made you such a good player.

“But you still play?” Taylor pressed, and your eyes were drawn to how her lips formed a thin line.

“Not as a forward,” You admitted easily. “Mom got tired of all of the bickering,”

Once you switched positions, you and Alex could work together instead of going head to head. It made you a lethal pair and let you both show off your talents.

It also saved your mother’s sanity.

“That’s not the point,” Taylor chuckled. “If you can change positions, you can play a chord on a guitar. You just need patience,”

“I wasn’t born with that,” You smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “Try for me?”

“Fine,” You sighed, pushing yourself to a sitting position yet again.

It was kinda scary how easily she could bed you to her will. All she had to do was ask.

“Put your fingers in position,” She said, leaning forward and checking to make sure they were on the right strings. “And then play each one individually,”

You grabbed the pick from the floor beside you and very slowly brought it across the strings. All of the strings sounded right except for the pinky.

“Press down a little harder,” She said, her tongue caught between her teeth as she reached over to help you. “And try again,”

You did as she asked, and this time, the G chord sounded through her apartment.

“Great job!” She cheered, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Thanks,” You cleared your throat and looked away. “Couldn't have done it without you, literally, but um… can we be done with me playing? I think my fingers are going to fall off,”

You turned towards her, not realizing how close you were, and nearly brushed her nose with yours. You pulled back, trying not to look at her lips, or her burning blue eyes, focusing on a very small freckle on her forehead because it felt like the safest option.

The two of you hated a lingering breath, and the air between you felt electric. You would have sworn that her eyes flickered to your lips, just as her tongue poked out to wet her own.

But she couldn’t be into you.

She was America’s favorite pop star, she was a fully-fledged adult while you were still basically a kid, and most importantly, she was straight.

“Yeah, we can do something else,” She hummed, reaching for the guitar and carefully pulling it over your head.

“Can you play something for me?” You asked, scooping Meredith up and settling her in your lap when she nudged against your leg.

For a cat that didn’t like being picked up and cuddled, she was very attached to you, except when you were playing the guitar.

“Sure,” She nodded, grabbing her guitar and plucking out some chords. “Any requests?”

You shook your head, smiling down at the cat as she kneaded her feet into your thighs and finally plopped down with a short purr. “Whatever you want,”

“Now that’s no fun,” Her lips turned up, and her head ticked to the side and she reached over to scratch the cat's head. “Come on, what’s your dream surprise song?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and more red bled into your cheeks. “Um… I don’t suppose you have the 10-minute version of All Too Well available?”

She chuckled and shook her head, a playful smile pulling at her lips. “Unfortunately, it was a rant that I don’t currently have memorized,”

“Hey, you asked for the dream song,” You held your hands up in defense, unable to stop yourself from laughing with her. “I think a lot of fans would agree to have that on their list,”

She shrugged, half in agreement and half in amusement. “I just think it’s funny that it came from a line I said in an interview almost 4 years ago,”

“Honestly, I think if a demo version of it did exist, it would have been leaked already. Some of your sleuthy fans are obsessed,” You said, your dimples popping out. “I couldn’t not ask for it,”

She snorted “Trust me, I know. It was a good shot, and if it did exist, I’d totally play it for you. I trust you not to be secretly recording,”

You hummed, trying not to think too hard about how she trusted you. How she would have played one of her most secret and tightly kept songs for you “But alas it does not,”

“No, not in a playable form,” She shook her head, her blue eyes shining. “Pick a new one,”

You bit your lip, rolling through the list of songs in your head. “What about State of Grace,”

The piano version had always been one of your favorites, and you so often got the intro stuck in your head.

“We can do that,” She smiled widely at you and began picking out the chords. “Only if you promise to sing along?”

Your nose scrunched. “You don’t want me to sing, I sound like a dying walrus, just ask Alex,”

You knew Alex would agree, even if it wasn’t entirely true. You didn’t do music anymore.

“Hum then,” She conceded, and you nodded.

You could hum- just not in tune, but you didn’t have to be in tune with Taylor.

You just had to be yourself, and you had never experienced that with anyone else.

******

December 2015

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings

That became my religion, listen

You eyed the oven warily from across the island, leaning into the cool stone countertop as Taylor flitted around you, pulling out various ingredients.

It wasn’t that you were afraid of the oven, it was just that you were not known for being a good cook. Actually, you were known for being a very not good cook.

You were banned from making anything in any of your sister's kitchens, and you rarely ventured to make more than Dino nuggets (which you still burned) on your own.

As long as you didn’t touch the controls, everything should be fine.

“You alright?” Taylor asked, setting a stick of butter on the counter next to you, her hand landing gently on your forearm. “You’re staring at the stove,”

“Yeah,” You blinked away from the copper appliance and towards Taylor, painting an easy smile across your lips. “I’ve just never made cookies before,”

She frowned. “Never ever?”

You shook your head, biting your lip. You didn’t want to tell her that any time your sisters had tried, it ended in charcoal (and an oven fire… twice) instead of ooey, gooey deliciousness.

“We were more of sports people than baking people,” You explained with an easy shrug. “Plus after a hard game, the precut square ones always do the trick,”

Her nose scrunched adorably. “But they don’t sell peanut butter chocolate chip cookies in the little squares,”

“Kelley likes to bake. Jerry too. I’m not usually involved,” You answered with ease, taking the wooden spoon she passed you. “When Alex and I get together we usually get distracted trying new tactics and tricks,”

You didn’t want to say that you were always banished from the kitchen, at least until the oven was off.

A thoughtful look crossed her face.

This was the first time you had mentioned Alex by name and not followed it with a remark about something terrible she had done. The first time you hadn’t breezed by her existence in the greater context of the team.

She wanted to pry, to ask why there was a strange tension between you and your older sister, but she wasn’t sure you would give her a straight answer.

You were a master at spinning questions around (and running interviewers around in circles) when you wanted to, so the only way she would get the story was if you wanted to tell her.

And she so desperately wanted you to want to let her into your personal life.

“Austin doesn’t like to cook either, but we usually chat while I get everything ready,” She said.

“Alex and I talk better on the field,” Your head bobbed gently as you began to stir the ingredients in the bowl. “Soccer is our best communication method, and Kelley likes to feed us when we’re done,”

She opened her mouth to ask more, to try and understand why the only place you really opened up was the field, but your phone buzzed obnoxiously on the counter.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Emily’s contact photo popped up on your screen.

“You can answer it,” Taylor hummed, grabbing the spoon and bowl from you and carefully measuring in more ingredients.

You sighed. “It’s probably not important,”

“But what if it is?” Taylor shrugged. She didn’t want you ignoring your other friends to hang out with her, even if she was slightly flattered that you always gave her your undivided attention (except when you watched movies). “Answer it,”

“Sup loser,” Emily’s voice filled Taylor’s kitchen as your best friend’s face filled the screen, a wide smile showing off her dimples.

You rolled your eyes. She would never let you live down how the thorns had beaten the red stars. Badly. Even if you had gotten a banger of a goal on her yourself.

“Don’t rub it in,�� You muttered, balancing the phone against a vase so you could keep stirring the batter, careful that you were the only person in the shot. “What do you want?”

“Just figured I’d see if you’d seen the roster for January camp yet,” She hummed, shifting forward as if she was trying to see what you were doing, just as Taylor’s hands plopped a stick of butter into the bowl. “Are you baking? Should I call the fire department?”

You glowered at her, beginning to mix the thick batter, your tongue poking out the side of your cheek in concentration.

You hadn’t had time to read your emails yet, not that you were worried. You just got so… distracted with Taylor. You wanted to be in the moment. You wanted to savor every second you got with the person slowly becoming your best friend.

“No, yes, no,” You said, eyes flickering towards Taylor and then back to the phone.“I’m supervised,”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “You’re supervised? Are you clothed?”

Red filled your cheeks at the implication, and you did your best to ignore Taylor’s raised eyebrow.

She had heard about your reputation, but having one of your friends bring it up right in front of her still made you blush. You didn’t want her to think that you had some endgame. That you were playing her.

You weren’t (even if the fluttering in your chest when you were with her made you want something… more).

You cleared your throat. “I’m with a friend Sonnett,”

It came out more biting than you meant for it to. More defensive.

She rolled her eyes, holding her hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, just be safe,”

“Fuck off,” You bit back, your teeth clacking, even as Taylor dumped the chocolate chips into the bowl.

“I love you too Y/n,” She cackled back, unphased by your sudden moodiness. She had seen it hundreds of times before when things in the pitch didn’t go your way. “See you in a few weeks,”

“Bye loser,” You muttered, unable to resist returning her jab.

A devilish smirk broke across her face, and you knew you would regret trying to tease her. “Bye y/n and y/n’s friend,”

“Bye Sonnett,” Taylor added, as you clicked the end call button, and from Emily’s furrowed eyebrows just before the screen ended, you knew she didn’t know who had said goodbye to her.

You anxiously rubbed the back of your neck, avoiding running your hand through your hair so you didn’t have to wash them… again. “Sorry about her,”

“She’s charming,” Taylor hummed, taking the bowl of cookie dough from in front of you. “Is she always like that?”

“No,” You muttered, as she carefully scooped out a bit of dough with a spoon and transferred it to a baking sheet. “She can actually be pretty sweet when she wants to be. It’s why Rosie loves her so much,”

Taylor’s head tilted to the side as she tried to follow your train of thought. Despite how much you talked about the team, you rarely ever mentioned the relationships within it. The team was intensely private in that way, and she respected that. Still, it didn’t mean she wasn’t curious… and you had technically mentioned it first.

“Are they dating?”

“No,” You snorted, shaking your head. They were two blind idiots in love, terrified of messing up a friendship. “They mostly just make moon eyes at each other right now. But hopefully winning a gold will give one of them the balls to finally make a move,”

“Like she thought you had the balls to bake naked,”

She knew there had to be a story there, but getting you to actually tell her would be a bigger challenge.

More red colored your cheeks, traveling up to your ears.

“It would be more likely for me to be naked, than for me to be baking,” you murmured, rubbing harder at the back of your neck. “That comment was probably more about the supervision. The last time she called I was sneaking out of a girl's apartment,”

Her eyebrow raised nearly to her hairline. “And you answered?”

It was hard to wrap her head around how commonplace your hookups were. She didn’t like how casual you and everyone around you were about them, especially since you were so young.

“She wanted to check in,” You waved a hand dismissively. “We lost pretty badly,”

She didn’t quite know how those two pieces fit together. “But she asked if you needed the fire department,”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I… distracted a girl one time while she was cooking,”

Taylor swallowed her grimace. She wasn’t allowed to be jealous. Not yet anyway.

She was your friend.

She scooped a small bit of batter with her finger and reached out to smear it on the very tip of your nose. “Sounds pretty dangerous,”

Your eyes crossed as you tried to see the little blob, and Taylor laughed loudly at the expression.

“You didn’t just do that,”

Taylor sat back, smirking at you widely. “Oh, but I did. What are you going to do about it?”

You reached across the island, grabbing a small scoop of flour.

“This,” You said, rubbing the flour into her cheek with a grin. “It’s a little lighter than your normal highlight, but it suits you,”

She paused for a second before reaching for the flour container, dipping her hand inside. “Oh, it’s on now,”

She didn’t give you time to duck as she tossed a handful of flour towards you, and you caught a stick of butter still out on the counter as you dove for cover.

More flour powdered around you in a cloud as you peeked up from your hiding space, throwing a bit of soft butter towards her. It skidded across the counter, mixing with the sugar and flour smeared across the surface.

It almost made you feel bad, but you would help her clean it up.

“Missed me, loser,”

Your nose scrunched at the name, and your eyebrows furrowed.

You would not be a loser.

You crawled towards your left, sneaking around the island until you saw her right foot, and a smile broke across your face.

You dove for her, catching her around the waist, sending the bag of flour flying around you as you both fell, her peels of laughter echoing across the kitchen.

“I don’t lose,” You chuckled into her neck as flour fell around you like snow. “Flour fights and otherwise,”

Taylor rolled off of you, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look at you. “You’ve got a little bit of flour there,”

She gestured towards your nose, and you lifted your shirt to wipe the area she indicated. You felt the way her eyes were immediately glued to your exposed abs, and you took an extra second to wipe your face so she could look.

Her face was red when you dropped your shirt.

“Thanks,” You winked, and the red bled from her cheeks down her neck.

She snorted and shook her head. “That just made it worse,”

You wiggled your eyebrows and licked your lips for good measure. “That’s ok, I’ve gotten way dirtier anyway,”

“You’re too much,” She said, still giggling, watching your shoulder as she sat up. “Let’s get the cookies in the oven and we can clean up while they bake,”

You pouted dramatically. “What if I want to stay dirty?”

She rolled her eyes, already pushing herself to her feet. “You don’t get cookies,”

You wrinkled your nose. “Bummer,”

“Come on,” She held her hand out to you, and you took it, letting her pull you up.

She stole a hug before she let you go, directing you towards where the broom was.

And you couldn’t help the small smile pulled across your features, both at Taylor and the sight of the cats staring safely at you from the kitchen archway.

You would tolerate baking if it was with Taylor.

*****

March, 2016

If you’ve got a girlfriend, I’m jealous of her. But if you’re single it’s honestly worse.

You were never good at sneaking. You hadn’t even tried in high school because you knew you would be caught, and after you moved out, there was no one to sneak from.

Your North Carolina roommate didn’t care how late you were out. She barely even spoke to you at all.

You were pretty sure she hated you, but which of your Courage teammates didn’t?

Maybe the newfound freedom made you wreckless, or maybe you just didn’t care about changing your behavior when you were visiting your sister in Florida.

But whatever the case, Alex was waiting for you when you stepped back into her house, her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face.

Part of you wondered if she had been standing there all night, or if she heard the door of your UBER shut and came down to greet you. You wondered if they turned the porch light on as soon as they got home, or if you just hadn’t noticed it when the car pulled up.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

You slowly turned towards her, kicking off your shoes, neatly placing them in the rack by the door, and pulling your sweatshirt over your head. “Out? Why?”

“It’s almost 2 am,” She grit out, her eyes flashing dangerously, but it did nothing to dissuade you.

You shrugged, hanging your sweatshirt on the hook right next to her. “I got distracted”

She scoffed, following you as you tried to brush past her. “You didn’t call or text, I was worried sick about you,”

You rolled your eyes.

It wasn’t like you texted her often anyway. The two of you barely spoke as it was, nothing besides Hey how was your day messages and one-word responses on your end.

It was weird to you that she was still trying to look after you. That she was still trying to be the protective older sister, when clearly your relationship had evolved.

You weren’t the toddler crawling after her wherever she went, or the 4-year-old tripping over every soccer ball she passed you.

You were a just barely adult trapped in the shadows of everyone’s expectation of you.

“OK mom, chill out. I was just… busy,” You snarked, wiggling your fingers at her as you headed towards the kitchen. “I had my hands full,”

She made a face at you.

There had been a time when she was more like your mom than your mom was. A time when you were closer to her than anyone else.

Now it felt like she barely knew you.

“Just your hands? I thought you had more game than that,” Kelley said from the couch.

“Trust me, I do,” You cackled, fist-bumping Kelley as you passed her, headed for the kitchen.

“Don’t encourage her,” Alex grumbled, nudging her as they both followed after you.

You again rolled your eyes, pulling out one of the stools at the island, settling into it, and running your hand through your wild curls. “Chill out Al, I made it here, ok?”

You didn’t like it when your hookups messed with your hair, but it seemed everyone was obsessed with it.

“Good argument kid,” Kelley chortled, grabbing a plate of rock shaped objects from next to the stove and holding them out to you. “Cookie?”

Your nose scrunched at the offered items, but you took one anyway, letting your shoulders relax as the tension between you and Alex mellowed.

She had been acting as referee for the two of you for a very long time, almost as long as they had been dating, and she was an expert at this point. It helped that you would open up to her more than you ever would to Alex.

You knew your sister and her girlfriend didn’t like your… relaxation method, but as long as your partner was into it and you were into it, you didn’t see a problem. It was better than some of the things you could be doing.

“You know, eventually you’re going to have to stop this,” Alex muttered, sitting down at the counter beside you.

“Why?” You asked, examining the cookie.

She laid her phone on the counter and slid it towards you, “Because the team aren’t the only people who have picked up on it now,”

You glanced down at the device.

It was a Twitter feed of pictures of you and the girl you had just left. You reached out and scrolled, frowning when you saw all of the text tweets below it.

@randomy/nfan: it’s unfair how ridiculously hot she is.

@randomy/nfan2: no one needs to wipe their face that many times during a game

@randomy/nfan: Did you see how she stuck her tongue out each time she ran her hand through her hair? It should be criminal.

@randomy/nfan3: she totally winked at me after she gave me her jersey. Too bad I wasn’t the one she took home after.

@randomy/nfan5: can confirm she winked after she took her jersey off. She even flexed for the photo.

@SoccerUpdates: Y/n Morgan spotted with Orlando rookie Sam Witterman after the game.

“The fans need to mind their own fucking business,” You grumbled, sliding her phone back. “I didn’t flex for her either,”

Alex raised an eyebrow at you. “If it wasn’t for her, who was it for? Because Sam wasn’t even paying attention,”

You looked back at the cookie, using it to hide the sudden heat in your cheeks. “I’m an adult and I can do whoever or whatever I want,”

You hadn’t been flexing for the fan. You had been flexing in case your favorite singer was watching the game like she said she would be.

It was frustrating how obsessed the media was with you sometimes. The fans didn’t know the line between who you were on the field and in interviews and who you were off the field. They didn’t understand the concept of privacy.

“You can,” Kelley agreed, ignoring the glare Alex sent her way. “But aren’t you concerned that you give a part of yourself away each time you sleep with someone?”

Your shoulders lifted and then fell. “It’s not like I receive,”

“What?” Kelley frowned.

“Half the time, I don’t even take my pants off. It’s not like they notice,” You mumbled, taking a bite of the cookie and wrinkling your nose at the crumbly texture of oats and coconut. “Why is everything in your house vegan?”

“I never pegged you as a stone top,” Kelley breathed out, shaking her head. “And my cookies are vegan because your sister is vegan and enjoys being able to eat the things I make,”

“You just don’t like that she won’t let you kiss her when you’ve had anything that actually tastes good,” You hummed, taking another bite of the too-dry cookie. “It’s just easier,”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed, a warning bell sounding in the back of her mind. “Easier?”

You nodded, swallowing the sand-like texture in your mouth. “It’s hard to find clothes in the dark without waking anyone up, and that makes sneaking out more difficult,”

“You don’t even stay long enough to say goodbye?” Alex grimaced.

“No,” You said dismissively, reaching for another cookie and taking a bite. “Then they’d have a chance to try and get me to stay,”

Alex could only stare at you, wondering where the shy kid who had been terrified to ask your high school crush out went. When had you gone from sweet and reserved to a Fuck boy who didn’t even tell the person they were sleeping with goodbye?

“Jesus,” She scoffed, running a palm across her face. “You’re only 18, you shouldn’t be participating in hookup culture,”

“Like you weren’t when you were at Berkeley,” Kelley chuckled. “Y/n is just having her frat boy era without a frat. Let the kid live,”

“Yeah Alex, let me live,” You intoned, copying Kelley.

Alex glared at the side of your head, much like she did when you were young and being a brat. “Fine then. Was she good?”

You tilted your chin toward her incredulously. “You really want to hear about my hookup?”

“Well you wanted me to let you live,” She sat back in her chair, crossing her arms. The stance that always made younger you cower. “So tell me, was she good? Did you enjoy yourself?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, staring for a long second before shrugging and taking another bite of your cookie. “She was fine, like the others,”

“Just fine?”

“Her nails were really long, so she gorged my back,” You said, turning and pulling the collar of your shirt down so she could see the angry red marks at the top of your back. “I was worried I was going to bleed all over my shirt,”

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. You had to be the good one to get marks like that, and the idea that you were… talented in that area almost made her want to vomit. As did the notion that your… skills probably came from… practice.

Lots of practice.

“So you ditched us for a just fine hookup?” Kelley asked, and it made the guilt bubble in your stomach.

That was the only good part about playing Orlando… that you got to spend time with your sister (something that was rare after she left you for Berkeley).

It was the only real hope you saw at mending the bridge that covered the crater that her departure left in your relationship.

And you sighed, sinking on the stool, your shoulders hunching. “I didn’t think I was going to be out as late as I was. I’m sorry,”

“Ok, but why go for a hookup anyway?” Alex asked, her hand finding your back and rubbing circles.

You took another bite of your cookie, chewing it slowly and swallowing hard.

You weren’t sure you wanted to open up. That you wanted to accept her comfort or her touch, but pushing her away felt… cruel.

“Paul is trading me to Chicago. He said I’m not progressing, and I don’t fit his scheme. I went out because I needed to blow off some steam. I found out right before the game,”

The words felt like lead in your mouth. He hadn’t even had the guts to tell you himself. Instead, you found out from your manager, with his comments on your performance.

“That sucks,” Kelley reached across the island to take your hand.

“Paul is a fucking asshole,” Alex grit out, her hand falling from your back. “You’re better off honestly,”

There was something else in her voice that you couldn’t quite place.

“Chicago is going to be lethal with you and Chris,” Kelley hummed, squeezing you three times, before turning towards the cabinets and pulling out a plastic bag. “These have eggs and milk. I made them for you. You deserve it.”

You instantly dropped the cookie in your hand and reached for the bag of peanut butter chocolate chip goodness. “Why didn’t you pull these out sooner?”

“Because you snuck into our house at 1:30 am,” Kelley shrugged, leaning on the counter. “After ditching us,”

“I wasn’t trying to ditch you,” You mumbled, pulling a cookie out of the bag and biting into it. Your eyes slid closed as the chocolaty peanut butter played across your tongue.

They were nearly as good as the ones Taylor had made you the last time you saw her.

“You were just trying to get laid so you could forget your problems,” Alex finished for you, frowning. You rolled your eyes, grabbing your phone out from your back pocket and snapping a picture of the cookies.

Alex sighed heavily, reaching over and brushing a curl from in front of your eyes. “I just worry about you,”

She promised your parents and older sisters she would look after you when you decided to forgo college and join the league(even if the 2 of you weren’t as close as you once were). She didn’t think letting you sleep your way through the teams was healthy, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a sign of something deeper going on with you.

You were always so shy growing up. Even after you told them that you were into women, you had never been so… overt with your interactions. You were so sweet with the girl you took to your senior prom, so nervous around any girl you really liked.

She wasn’t sure when that changed.

“I’m doing fine,” You said, taking another bite of the cookie. “You’d be the first to know if I wasn’t,”

“Promise?” She asked you, more softly.

Every time she looked at you, she would see the tiny 4-year-old running after her, telling her you were fine after you skinned your knee or elbow. Or 7-year-old you swearing you were good to go after you broke your arm surfing a too-big wave.

“With my pinky,”

You held your finger up for good effect, and she linked hers with yours.

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Kelley hummed, sliding you a glass of milk. “Now eat up, I want to actually sleep tonight,”

OoOoOoO

Twitter wasn’t one of Taylor’s favorite social media apps. It was a pit of anxiety-inducing posts and hateful opinions, and she genuinely made an effort to stay away.

But after watching your soccer game, she couldn’t help herself.

It had been a humid night in Florida (according to the commentary team). You kept lifting your shirt to wipe the sweat out of your eyes, and your curls had been wild by the end of the second half.

The grainy stream hadn’t been clear enough for her. It hadn’t done your abs justice so Taylor had relented to the bird app. To pictures taken by people who were actually at the stadium, and things spiraled from there.

It should have made her feel… shameful that she was scrolling through photos of you, looking for one that showed the moment you lifted your shirt and maybe when you gave your jersey away. She should feel bad that she was looking for the moment you put your abs on full display.

But she didn't.

She had been slightly obsessed since you sent her a bathroom mirror picture after the game the US had played against Canada, your shirt pulled up to your chin to show off the perfect impression of a cleat on your skin. And getting to see them in person in her kitchen had only made things worse.

Maybe it was slightly more than slightly…

If you didn’t want her to look, you certainly wouldn’t have sent her the picture, but still. With the parade of women that always seemed to be surrounding you, she wasn’t sure that you had really given it that much thought.

She sighed, scrolling through the feed, pausing on a picture that had been taken of you after the game.

She really shouldn’t be this invested in you, not when your reputation was that of a player.

She didn’t want to be played. Not again.

But you were different with her. You weren’t the arrogant soccer player posing for photos, or winking at fans. You were sweet and charming and it took almost no effort to make you blush.

And… she groaned, swiping to the next picture.

Your arm was slung low across a girl's back as you guided her into a car, a wide smirk pulling at your lips. It left nothing of your plans to the imagination, but maybe that’s why you had done it.

You wanted to world to think you were a fuck boy. You wanted them to believe that you had an impenetrable shell.

She rolled her eyes.

She knew differently.

That didn’t mean that it didn’t send jealousy through her veins when she saw the pictures, even if she didn’t really have the right to be jealous.

She sighed again, scrolling past the pictures.

At least she knew that you were still technically single (though that might have actually been worse).

Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she grabbed the message from the top of the screen.

It was a picture of a bag of cookies.

Soccer Hottie: Kelley made me cookies. They weren’t as good as yours

She smiled at the screen, her jealousy melting. Though she was slightly disappointed a picture of your face hadn’t been included.

I can make you more when you visit me

Soccer Hottie: I’d like that 😘. I’ll have to check my schedule.

At least she got a part of you that none of your hookups did. She got to see the things you cared about. She got to see your likes and dislikes.

That was more than any of your hookups would ever get, and that made it easier to be your friend.

*****

June 2016

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own

“You know I hate this game,” You sighed, resting your chin on your hand and staring at the Scrabble board.

It was the same expression you made when you stared at the stupid app Taylor made you download so you could play her, except no one was ever there to heckle you while you tried to figure out what your next move should be.

She also didn’t rush you or set a timer so you couldn’t take all day.

“It’s better than Monopoly,” Emily shrugged, extending her legs so her feet were resting in Rose’s lap. “Last time we played there was a fistfight,”

Rose hummed, squeezing Emily’s foot and shifting the tiles on her little ledge. “That’s why we switched to monopoly deal,”

Board games were a staple during the downtime at camp, and this one was no different. With Rose (and Emily by default since they started dating) as your roommate(s), you had been roped into a quick Scrabble game while you all waited for team bonding.

She reached out and placed 4 of her pieces, forming the word Focus around your word Cracker.

You frowned. You had been planning to make the word cutter, but now your c was gone and there was no way for you to connect to Emily’s R on the other side (though you weren’t sure exactly what word she had created considering the two center letters kept flipping in your head).

You liked Monopoly better. It didn’t make your head hurt so much.

Plus it was one of the few games where you always kicked Alex’s ass.

“I still think you two have an unfair advantage over me,” you muttered, puffing out your cheek and pulling out your phone. You smiled as you scrolled to a very familiar contact.

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” You shot her a wide smirk, as the ringing of the FaceTime app stopped and the little boop that meant your favorite person had answered sounded through the room. “Hey Scrabble queen,”

“Hey, what’s up?” Her lips ticked up in a smile that she only used when she was with you, and you saw an unfamiliar painting and a microphone behind her.

She must be at the studio.

You knew she was working on an album, though you’d been reluctant to hear any spoilers. You didn’t want to hear about a new… love interest. You didn’t think you could take it, and you needed to focus if the team was going to do well at the Olympics.

“I need your help,” You pouted at the phone, making your eyes as big and innocent as you could. “Im shitty at scrabble and I don’t want to lose to Rosie and Emily,”

Taylor rolled her eyes at you.

“Hey! Why do you get to phone a friend!?” Emily exclaimed, reaching for the phone, and the semi-familiar voice on the other end. “Is it the person who was with you last time I called?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, shifting so she couldn’t steal your phone without looking at your tiles (thereby disqualifying her). “Because I’m dyslexic,”

“You’re getting better actually. You got a triple word last week,” Taylor said, and your eyes darted back toward her. You hadn’t told her it was really Kelley who saw the triple word yet. “Can you show me the board and your letters please?”

“You didn’t answer my question, is this mystery girl?” Emily cut back in, even as Rose held her foot so she didn’t try to tackle you to see who you had called.

“She’s not a mystery,” You scrunched your nose and flipped the camera, giving Taylor a good view of the board. “She’s my friend,”

Rose raised her eyebrow at you. “Then what’s her name, you know so we can call her something else?”

“Taylor,” You answered with an easy shrug, not really thinking about it.

You doubted they’d make the connection anyway.

Not unless Taylor said something incriminating, and you doubted she would considering how careful she was.

“Ok, I think I’ve got it. I’ll text you the next couple of moves,” Taylor said, looking sideways over the phone and nodding. “I’ll talk to you later, I’ve gotta go,”

“Thank you!” You flipped the camera around and sent her a goofy smile.

“Anytime,” She mirrored your smile and blew you a little kiss. “Talk to you later babe,”

You caught the kiss and waved, staring at the phone for a very long second even after it had gone back to your Lock Screen.

It made your chest feel warm that even when she was busy, she answered your calls. That she always made time for you.

“If she’s your friend, then you have one hell of a crush,” Emily said, drawing you back to the moment.

You blinked back up at the pair, the warm feeling in your chest replaced with sudden anxiety. “What?”

“She called you babe,” Rose supplied, her voice very soft like she was afraid to startle you.

They all knew of your… reluctance to settle down, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was a deeper reason behind it that they were all overlooking.

Emily snorted, not catching the hesitance in Rose's voice. “And you stared at the phone after you hung up for a solid 30 seconds,”

Red immediately flooded your cheeks, and your hand clenched at your side. “We’re just friends,”

Even if you enjoyed the flirting and your feelings were slowly surpassing the boundaries of friendship. She would never want someone like you.

You were just a kid compared to her, bumbling your way through your career and fucking it up at every turn.

Plus she was straight.

It was too cliche for you to handle.

“Ok,” Rose conceded, shooting Emily a very serious look to not push you more.

It never turned out well when they pushed.

“It’s still your turn,” Emily said, her voice also going soft, gesturing towards the scrabble board. “Let’s see how good the mystery Taylor really is,”

You hummed, pulling up the text, and ignoring the little Good luck 😜 that accompanied her instructions.

Your tongue made its way between your teeth as you read the step-by-step text, each letter separated by a double space, and you slowly reached for the letter tiles and slid them into place, forming the word Resonate with the help of two of Emily’s words and one of Roses.

“Ha, a quadrupole word,” You cheered, typing out a thank you text to Taylor as Emily groaned.

Rose rolled her eyes, still smiling softly at you.“And let me guess, it’s the easiest one she sent you?”

She hadn’t seen you this… engaged in a long time. She hadn’t seen you so… happy, not since you started playing at North Carolina, and she hadn’t seen you show more interest than a quick one-night stand.

“Yep,” You popped the p and smiled wickedly at them. “read it and weep losers,”

“You’re only winning because of the mystery scrabble queen,” Emily pouted. “What, does she have an entire empire made of word blocks too?”

“She’s not a fucking mob boss. She’s just a friend, and I told you, it’s fair because it levels the playing field,” You shrugged, failing to mention that the butterflies Taylor sent swirling in your chest were much more than friendly.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t beaten you each time you played this game before. “Now make your move before I sic the time turtle on you and you have to draw a wicked wango card,”

Rose raised her eyebrow at you. “Since when did you watch Friends?

“Yeah! I thought you hated anything remotely scripted besides superhero movies and Indiana Jones?” Emily added, crossing her arms indignantly. “It’s how you get out of literally every movie bonding night,”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and red bled into your cheeks.

You hadn’t really minded the comedy eating kettle corn with Taylor in a massive pillow fort, though Meredith and Olivia pawing at your bowl while Taylor pouted at their adamant ignoral of her had made it all worth it (they had been very unhappy about the quick baths she made them take because they were covered in flour from your little food fight).

Plus you thought that Bamboozled was probably the only game show that wouldn’t put you to sleep (you agreed with Joey that it wasn’t that complicated).

“Friends doesn’t really have a plot,” You muttered, looking down at your phone and moving your tiles around so you didn’t have to think about your next move. “And it’s funny so it’s not so bad,”

Rose made a low noise, poking Emily with her toes, telling her not to push.

She had a feeling that your sudden interest in the show had more to do with who you were watching it with than the comedy. And she wouldn’t be the one to meddle in what was your first real relationship.

She wouldn’t let Emily either.

The wrath that would meet them from all the vets and your older sister was not something she wanted to deal with.

“Come on Sonny, make your move,”

******

July 2016

But I stay when you're lost, and I'm scared, and you're turning away

2016 was the summer of the apocalypse.

There was no other way to put it.

You never thought a singular PK could turn your team and the rest of the world against you. But it did.

You only got to play the last 10 minutes of the game, and your only job was to make the penalty.

But you missed it. Badly.

Jill made it clear before you were even back in the locker room that you would need to earn your way back. Roary had benched you as soon as you returned to Chicago. But the worst was the media, and the slew of hate that had been unleashed on you the second your foot left the ball.

It rivaled the hate Hope was getting, and that was saying something.

You blew out a long breath, took another swig of your lukewarm beer and slowly kicked the ball back toward the PK spot.

One of the few benefits to Chicago was that the high school soccer field was within walking distance from your shitty apartment. The other was that the high school soccer field stayed open all night and had good lighting.

You took another swig before gently setting the bottle next to four of its already empty friends, and setting up for the kick. It should have concerned you that the ball was slightly blurry, or that you were a bit wobbly on your feet, but it didn’t.

Not when you so clearly saw your path to regaining your future.

You rolled your neck, squaring your shoulders and looking from the ball to the net. You could imagine the thousands of people screaming, and the keeper jockeying in her line, waiting for you.

You took another breath, leaning forward. You shuffled your feet, starting the countdown in your head.

But just before you got to 1, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling your focus from the upper right corner of the net just as you fell into step for the pk. The ball connected with your foot at the wrong angle, and was sent flying into the stands instead of towards goal.

“Fuck,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair and pulling the offending device from your back pocket.

Blondie👱🏻‍♀️🎤: Hey, you ok? They said you weren’t on the bench, but didn’t give a reason.

You couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at your lips when you saw Taylor’s contact on your Home Screen, even if you had to squint to make out her message.

She was one of the only people who was still talking to you after the Olympics. One of your only friends who hadn’t ditched you.

She liked you for you, and what you did on the pitch didn’t change that. Maybe that was why you were so drawn to her. Why the hangouts had gotten more frequent?

Maybe you just liked hanging out with her.

You took three steps back towards your drinks, plopping down and grabbing your beer.

I’m good. Cosch bwndnwd me bdcajwe hd thihls I zuck.

You swallowed the last of the sudsy liquid as you hit send, lining it up with the others and reaching for a new one as 3 little dots appeared.

Blondie 👱🏻‍♀️🎤: ???

You sighed, cracking the bottle open with your cleat and typing out your response. Your fingers slipped across the screen, and it took you a second to find the send button.

Hd said I’k not aolowed badk pn the vrncn until I deserve to bd a profrsakonal spcver player abIN/

The message instantly went to read, but the three little dots didn’t appear again.

You shrugged, taking a long sip of your beer (nearly downing the entire thing) before you placed the bottle next to its partners and began to kick a new ball toward the penalty spot, your phone dangling dangerously between your fingers.

You let out a long breath, lining up for the shot, your eyes lifting from the fuzzy ball to the equally fuzzy net.

But your phone buzzed in your hand before you could step into the kick. You lazily held it up to your face, clicking the accept button when you saw the FaceTime logo.

“Whad upp T-Swizzle,” You smiled dopily at Taylor’s face as she appeared on the screen, the stadium lights glinting off of your glassy eyes.

“Hey, are you ok? Your texts were kinda crazy,” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing with worry at your slurred speech.

“‘M great!” You cheered, spinning in place as if to show how great you were.

Her frown deepened. “You sound drunk?”

You rapidly shook your head. “‘M nottt,” Your voice caught on the last t, and you quietly stared at her for a long second before your dopey smile was back. “‘M practicin’ PKs. Wanna see?”

“No, Y/n,” She said, trying to sound stern. But it was too late, you had already flipped the camera around to face the goal.

“Those arrr the ones I made,” You slurred, the camera shaking violently as you tried to focus on each of the balls that had made it to the back of the net.

The camera then suddenly jerked, panning towards the bleachers. “And those arr the ones I missed. I missed a lot. I suckkkk,”

Several balls were haphazardly strewn across a set of rusting bleachers and lying by a dilapidated fence. But what really caught Taylor’s attention was a silver and gold cardboard box and a pile of empty bottles sitting at the gate.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She knew that things had been difficult for you, but she never expected you to get drunk and go to a random field at night. Or to make your way through a case of beer like she was sure you had. “Y/n turn the camera around,”

It took you a second to flip the camera back around, but your now somber face met her when you finally got it.

She tried not to think about how adorable your pout was (an expression you rarely ever used when you were sober).

“How many beers have you had?” She asked you seriously.

“Few?” you shrugged, squinting towards where the box was and biting your lip. “Almost gone,”

“I can see that,” She breathed out, trying to stay calm. “How big of a pack did you buy?”

Your grin returned, and you threw your arms out wide, spinning in a circle. “The biggggest,”

“Y/n,” Taylor sighed again, waiting for you to get back in frame. “Where are you? I’m gonna send a car to pick you up,”

“No. I gotta clean up annd practice so I can play,” You said, looking away from the camera, biting your lip. “I gotta nooot suckkk,”

“You don’t suck,” Taylor said, already pulling up her contacts. “Tell me where you are, and I will help you clean up before the car arrives,”

The line went quiet for a long second, and she looked up to see your eyebrows furrowed. She wasn’t sure if you were just trying to think, or if you were trying not to cry (it was hard to tell with how red and glassy your eyes were).

“Y/n?”

“I don’ suck?” Your bottom lip wobbled.

She shook her head.

“No. You missed a shot. It happens to everyone,” She repeated your own words back to you, ones she had heard you speak hundreds of times. Ones she meant with all of her heart. “Now tell me where you are. I’m worried about you,”

You buzzed your lips. “The high school field by my apartment,”

“Ok,” She said, feeling the knot in her chest loosen as she scrolled through her contacts and sent a frantic text to her security. Jason would send someone to get you. Someone who would keep you safe. “I have someone coming to get you,”

“I gotta clean up,” You poked your bottom lip out, stumbling over to the ball bag and struggling to get it open one-handed.

“I’ll stay on the line with you while you do,” Taylor said, keeping her voice soothing, and calm, even as she sent more frantic texts to her security and assistant moving her schedule around for the next few days. “And Tony will help once he gets there,”

You paused, from where you were sloppily gathering up balls and looked at the camera with wide eyes. “Iron man?”

Taylor resisted the urge to roll her eyes or coo at the adorable expression (though she did store it away in her memory bank for later recollection). “No, not the same Tony,”

You frowned, stumbling towards the stands and using a foot using push the balls to the bottom so you could gather them.

You tripped as you stepped up onto the silver seating, intent on getting the stray ball you had sailed to the top of the stands. “Nashatasha wass cuter anyway,”

“Yeah,” Taylor said slowly,her eyes scrunching as you nearly tumbled down the open side of the bleachers. “Why don’t you sit down? Tony is almost there to help you anyway. He can get the rest of the balls,”

All she needed was for you to fall out of the stands and hurt yourself.

Your tongue poked between your teeth like you were thinking before the phone shook violently as you plopped down onto the bleachers and rested your chin on your hand. “Kay,”

She blew out a breath as you blinked lazily at her. “Don’t worry, Tony will be there soon,”

She said the words for herself as much as she said them for you. She didn’t like the idea of you being drunk and alone on a random high school field in the middle of the night.

She needed you to be safe, and ok. It was a protective instinct that curled around her chest in a way that it had only for one other person.

Tony would be there soon, and they would get you back to your apartment and she would be able to breathe again.

OoOoOoOo

“Alright, I think I’ve got her all settled,” A salt and pepper-haired man said, as he tucked your Arsenal blanket under your chin as you snorted softly on the couch. His mirror-finish aviators hung from his v-neck shirt, something more casual than anything Taylor had ever seen him wear before.

It was a testament to how quickly he had abandoned his vacation to help her (and you by extension), and for that, she would be forever grateful.

“Thank you, Tony,” She said softly, keeping her voice down so she didn’t wake you. “Really,”

“It’s no problem ma’am,” He waved her off, his southern drawl calming whatever worry was still left in her chest. “I was happy to help when Jason contacted me, and Ms. Morgan is a very cooperative drunk,”

You had been incredibly well-behaved when Tony arrived, allowing him to guide you into the back of the SUV and then giving him your apartment address and your keys with no arguments. You didn’t even complain when he basically carried you up the stairs because you were too wobbly to walk. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was on the phone with you, or if you were just too tired to fight.

“Hopefully we don’t have more of these encounters to compare it against,” Taylor said, glancing at the text from her personal assistant. “Casey texted me, my plane is ready, so I should be there fairly soon,”

Tony made a low noise of agreement, placing a glass of water and an Advil on the coffee table next to your sleeping form, and taking a few steps back to sit on one of the stools, shifting so he could check that the three distinct dog bowls below him also had water.

The three huskies had refused to leave your side as soon as he got you laid down on the couch.

“I’ll stay outside her door until you arrive in case there are any issues,” Tony said, looking around your tiny apartment yet again to make sure that there wasn’t anything else he could do so that you would be comfortable when you woke up. “Would you like to stay on the line?”

Taylor nodded. “That would be great,”

Even though he was there, she wanted to stay too. She needed to be present in case you woke up. She didn’t want you to feel alone, especially when it seemed your team had abandoned you.

Tony stood, plugging in your phone and setting it up on the coffee table so that Taylor had a clear view of your sleeping face.

“I’ll be just outside the door, and my phone is on in case you need me,” He said, squatting so he could look into the camera, and send her a small smile. “I’ll see you when you get here,”

She sent him a wave as he disappeared, leaving the two of you alone (save for the gray huskie who had wiggled under your arm and the black one who was curled up behind your head).

She let out a long breath, watching the slow rise and fall of the edge of your Arsenal blanket.

You looked so young in your sleep.

You were young, she had to remind herself. You were barely 19, even if you wanted to act like you were so much older. Even if you had more responsibilities and people scrutinizing you than most other people your age.

You shifted, pulling the blanket closer to your face, one eye sleepily blinking open.

“Tay?”

She hummed, keeping her voice soft. “Yeah, I’m still here,”

You shifted, wrapping your arm tighter around the gray husky in your arms.

“Don’t ever leave,” You murmured the words into the dog's fur so softly that Taylor almost didn’t hear them. “I like you too much. Even if I don’t deserve you,”

“I like you too,” She smiled gently at the words that sent butterflies swirling in her chest. “Go back to sleep,”

She had liked you too for a very long time, even if she was still hesitant to admit it.

“Noooo,” You pouted, forcing your eyes further open to look at her. They were breathtakingly blue, just like your older sisters. “I like you like Alex likes Kelley, but I’m not supposed to. You’re too good,”

Her eyebrows furrowed.

Why weren’t you supposed to like her? What did you mean that she was too good?

“And you’re straight,” You added, shifting so your nose was hiding behind the dog in your arms.

“You can like me Y/n,” She murmured, wanting nothing more than to reach out and brush your messy curls from in front of your sleepy eyes. “I like you too,”

It wouldn’t be worth it to argue with your assumption of her sexuality now anyway. You were too drunk to remember in the morning.

Your eyes blinked open wider in an adorable doe-eyed expression. “Really?”

“Yes,” She nodded, her lips ticking up impossibly more at your adorableness. “Now sleep. I’ll see you soon,”

You made a low noise, your eyes sliding closed as you snuggled your nose into the dog under your arm.

She waited for your breathing to even out, (and several minutes after that) before she clicked off the call to catch her flight. She could watch your sleep for the rest of your lives, and still not get enough.

She wondered if you were dreaming of her, or of soccer balls and shots that you didn’t miss. Or maybe you were dreaming of a world where one kick didn’t have your teammates and friends turning their backs on you.

Maybe one day she would ask you.

OoOoOoO

The first thing you noticed as you came into consciousness was that your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and your head felt like Ashlyn had used it as a ball during punting practice, or like Megan had used it to practice her perfect PKs.

You groaned, shifting on the couch, accidentally displacing the three dogs that had cuddled in around you at some point.

You had no idea why you were sleeping on the couch, instead of in the king-sized bed you had purchased so the 4 of you had room.

Come to think of it, you didn’t actually remember how you got here.

The last thing you remembered was cracking open your 4th beer and gathering your balls so you could shoot more penalties. You didn’t exactly like how the sudsy liquid tasted, but it did an excellent job at dulling the ache in your chest that had settled as soon as you took that fucking PK.

The ache that went ignored by your sister and your teammates who were too wrapped up in their own grief to even check on you.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. At least you remembered to close the blinds, and put out Advil and water for yourself?

You pushed yourself up, closing your eyes when your apartment spun around you, and pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose.

Three cold noses nudged your skin, and you slowly worked your eyes open and reached for the tall glass.

“I’m ok guys,” You mumbled towards the three dogs sending you worried looks and took a large sip of the still-cool water. “It’s like when I give you guys too many treats,”

The gray huskie on your left wined, butting her head into your arm. You reached over with your free hand to scratch behind her ear. “I’m ok Art, nothing a good cup of coffee can’t fix,”

The red dog to your left also nudged you and you rolled your eyes, setting the glass down so you could scratch his head too, and you eyed the black dog still contently cuddled into your left leg.

He was always the most chill of the floof pack, happy to just be in your presence.

You would be happy to stay here all day. To let them love away the empty feeling that lingered after you like a bad cough.

You blinked as a knock sounded at your door, the levity in your chest deflating like a popped balloon.

It was probably one of your teammates coming to scold you for not sitting in the stands at last night's game. For ditching it instead of taking your punishment.

The knock sounded again, and you blew out a long breath as you forced yourself to your feet. “I’m coming,”

Artemis and Apollo trailed after you, stopping by the counter like they had been trained, and Orion stayed on the couch, watching over the living room like a centennial.

You rolled your eyes at him, running a hand through your hair again, trying to at least pretend you were presentable, as you grabbed the door handle (barely even bothered that the deadbolt wasn’t latched)

You froze when you saw a head of blond hair and the bluest eyes you had ever seen instead of one of your teammates.

“Taylor? What are you doing here?” You frowned, opening the door wider with one hand and rubbing your tired eyes with the other, hoping it would quell the dizziness that actually standing brought on. “Don’t you have a recording thing today?”

“I have a recording thing every day,” She said, stepping closer to the door. “You scared the shit out of me and I needed to come to check on you myself,”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

How had you scared her? Did you call her?

“Sorry. I don’t really remember the details of last night,” You opened the door wider, your hand lingering in your curls. “Do you wanna come in?”

Taylor nodded, stepping closer to you. “I’d like that,”

Took a step back, looking behind you towards the dogs.

“The gray one is Artemis and the red one is Apollo. Orion is black and probably hiding out here somewhere, he’s not a big fan of meeting new people,” You gestured towards the husky’s two waiting for their release command. “Do you want to say hello? They won’t jump, but I know you’re more of a cat person,”

She looked over your shoulder, nodding. “Yeah,”

You turned towards the dogs, waving across your waist. “Vale, saluda,”

Art sniffed at you as she pushed herself up and slowly waltzed past you, Apollo close on her tail as they made their way over to Taylor.

She tensed like she expected them to tackle her, but they didn’t. Apollo politely sniffed at the hand she had extended as Art circled her twice before nudging gently against her leg, asking to be pet.

“They’re so well-behaved,” Taylor said softly, her fingers winding their way into the soft fur of Art’s neck.

“Thanks,” You said, watching carefully as Apollo pressed his into Taylor’s other leg, indicating he wanted to be pet too. “They’re pretty mellow for huskies, as long as they've had their exercise,”

Art paused as Taylor’s other hand began to scratch Apollo's back, and you sighed, pointing away from the two of you. “De,”

Yes, they were well-behaved, but their relationship was also similar to the one you shared with your sister. Apollo liked to rile his older sister up, just like you loved to get a rise out of Alex.

You didn’t think that Taylor would appreciate a play fight breaking out.

Art sniffed at you, but did as you asked, her nails tapping as she trotted off towards the living room with Apollo at her heels.

Maybe they would go find Orion and show him the visitor wasn’t so scary.

“Want a drink?” You asked, awkwardly scratching the back of your neck with one hand and gesturing to the small bar in your kitchen with the other. “I think I have coffee somewhere,”

It was mundane in comparison to Taylor’s full marble kitchen. Small and disheveled on all accounts.

The linoleum blue counter had a crack running down the center and you knew that both wooden stools wobbled dangerously when they weren’t in the right spot. But Taylor didn’t complain as she followed you.

“Coffee would be great,” She hummed, and the stools squeaked as she settled onto one and placed her bag on the other. “I think you could use some too after the night you had,”

You shrugged, turning your back on her, pulling the coffee out of the freezer, and settling up the coffee maker. “What happened last night?”

You didn’t turn to look at her, busying yourself in grabbing 2 coffee mugs and a glass and getting the milk and a carton of orange juice from the fridge. You would have offered her a glass too, but considering how often you drank directly from the carton, you didn’t think it was a good idea.

“Well,” She drew out the word, and you felt her eyes on you as you moved through the kitchen. “I texted you because you weren’t on the bench, and you responded mostly with self-deprecating gibberish, so I called you,”

You made a low noise in the back of your throat, grabbing your sugar jar and sliding it towards her, but not meeting her eyes. “I was probably a couple beers deep at that point,”

“Just a couple?” You could almost hear her raised eyebrows, and you finally turned to look at her, placing the coffee pot between you.

You shrugged, smiling impishly as you poured yourself a cup of coffee. “A few more than a couple,”

“Try a 24-pack,” Taylor scoffed, pouring herself her own cup of coffee. “You’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning,”

You set your coffee on the counter, sucking all the warmth you could from your mug, your blasé mask cracking.

“I didn’t drink it all last night,” You said, finally meeting her eyes. “I only had like 13 left,”

She sighed, reaching out and catching your hand. “Still,”

You paused, blowing out a very long breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, or make you fly all the way out here and waste a day,”

Her eyebrows furrowed at the end of your sentence. The rapid turn in conversation.

“I’m not wasting anything,” She said slowly. “You obviously needed someone and I’m happy I could be here for you,”

You grimaced. You didn’t deserve to have someone there for you.

You were the one who fucked up the team. The one who ruined everything.

“Hey,” Taylor squeezed your hand again, drawing your eyes back to her, like she could read your thoughts. “No time I spend with you is a waste,”

Red flooded your cheeks, up to your ears, and you tried to hide it with a sip of your too-hot coffee.

She smiled gently at you, looking at the microwave clock behind you. “But we can talk about that later. You have to get ready for practice,”

“I’m not going,” You scoffed, taking another sip. “There’s no point,”

“Y/n, avoiding practice isn’t going to fix what’s happening,” She said, her voice patient. “It’ll only make it worse,”

A dark look crossed your features.

“It can’t get worse,” You said, your voice too calm. Too dangerous. “I’ve already been told I won’t be fielding for the rest of the season, and Mallory Pugh has been called into camp to replace me. My soccer career is over at the ripe old age of 19,”

Despite your efforts to hide it, she could still hear the misery in your voice. The utter defeat.

Her head tilted to the side, and she took a strategic sip of her coffee. “I thought you didn’t lose?”

You shook your head. “This is different,”

You couldn’t fight the system. Not when it was so dead set on driving you out.

If only you could be like your perfect older sister.

“Is it though?” She asked, too nonchalantly. “Prove them wrong. Show up and shove it in their faces,”

You sighed. You knew exactly what she was doing. You always responded better to challenges than to comfort.

Plus if you left, you weren’t sure Taylor would be here when you returned, and you preferred spending time with her over a useless practice anyway.

“And I’ll be waiting here for you after practice,” She added as if sensing one of the reasons for your hesitation. “We can grab some dinner and hang out. But first, you need to go kick some ass. It’ll make you feel better anyway,”

You took another long sip of your coffee, before nodding begrudging.

She was right. Skipping practice would only make things worse, even if going would suck anyway.

OoOoOoO

“Rough night?” Christen smirked at you, bumping your shoulder as you jogged onto the practice field, fixing your practice jersey.

You shrugged, sending the striker a half smile. “Something like that,”

She caught the collar of your practice jersey, peeking at the skin underneath it. “I don’t see any hickeys so it couldn’t have been too bad,”

You batted her hand away, unable to stop the smile that accompanied your rolled eyes. “I don’t have any. I didn’t hook up last night,”

She raised her eyebrow at you.

It was rare you skipped a team thing unless it was for a girl, even when you weren’t on the bench. She knew that you had been bedhopping more to cope with the loss at the Olympics and the tenuous situation with both the national team and Chicago that you found yourself in.

She supposed it was a way for you to distract yourself, even if she didn’t think it was what was best for you.

“Roary was pissed you weren’t at the game,” She said instead of pushing. You were an adult, and what you did off the field was really none of her business.

“I know,” You mumbled, stepping into line behind Huerta, scratching the back of your neck, a strange look crossing your face. “I already had a meeting with him. It’s why I missed activation,”

Christen frowned. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”

He had a reputation for being… abrasive, and Christen was aware of how many times he had been so with you.

You shrugged again. It wasn’t like Christen could do something about how awful he was. Plus you knew Christen would report anything you said right back to Alex.

“No more than usual,” You said, sounding uninterested. “We actually talked about how I’ve improved since coming back from Rio,”

While he had assigned you 8 laps after practice, overall the meeting hadn’t gone as badly as you feared. Considering how awful the Red Stars were performing with you not even allowed on the bench, you shouldn’t have been so surprised that he was sticking you back in the starting 11 for the midweek game.

So despite his critique of your personality and playing style, he had conceded that Chicago scored more when you were on the field to service Christen. You would take it as a win.

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed, not quite believing you. “That’s good I guess,”

You made a low noise, watching Sofia run the drill so you knew what was happening.

It was a simple give-and-go with the midfielders, and a shot on goal.

It would be easy.

And frankly, it was easy.

Your fingers wiggled as you watched Sofia launch the ball just over the crossbar, waiting for the goalkeepers to swap so the striking coach would send you the ball.

You let yourself sink into the drill, and just as he passed you the ball, it was like your brain turned off. You easily tapped it to Colaprico, skirting around Krueger and turning just in time to receive the through ball the midfielder sent back.

It only took a little flick of your heel to get past Naeher, and send the ball into the back of the net, and head to the back of the other line with little fanfare.

“Nice shot,” JJ reached out her hand for a low five as you passed her, and you tilted your chin at her as you passed, a smile playing on your lips.

Taylor had been right, playing did make you feel better.

And you didn’t have to think about the butterflies her presence sent flying in your stomach.

“Maybe you have the Morgan gene after all,” Roary said gruffly, stepping onto the practice pitch, his hand landing heavily on your shoulder.

Your back went straight and the hint of a smile slid off your face.

“I might be able to make an acceptable attacking midfielder of you yet,” He continued, oblivious to how rigid your posture was.

Christen cleared her throat, casually stepping between the two of you and forcing him to let go. “That was a really good goal. I bet you and Al could make that work for the national team too,”

“Hm,” You made a low noise of agreement, looking away from her.

You didn’t want to say that with your reputation, you doubted you would ever get a call up again. You were pretty sure Jill already blacklisted you anyway.

“We’ll have to see about that,” Roary chuckled, and his hand found your shoulder again, squeezing tightly. “A few extra film sessions could help,”

A shiver ran down your spine. You hated film sessions, especially with Roary, but you nodded anyway.

It wasn’t like you had a choice. Roary always got what he wanted.

He squeezed your shoulder one more time before heading off to harass someone else, but you knew he would be back. You were one of his favorite targets.

“You know you don’t have to do sessions with him,” Christen said when he was out of earshot, and you looked away.

She could never understand that you couldn’t say no to him. That your precariousness with both the Red Stars and the USWNT meant that you couldn’t piss off a coach. It meant that you were at his mercy, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“He’s an asshole, but he has some good insights,” You said, watching as JJ ran the opposite side of the drill with Huerta.

Christen used a finger under your chin to force you to look back at her. “That’s not what I asked you,”

“I know Chris,” You said with too much force, jerking away from her. “I can handle Dames. Right now, I need all the help I can get to show Jill that I deserve my fucking spot. If he wants to help, then so be it,”

She paused, her hand still hovering in the air where your chin had been.

“Ok,” She said slowly, her eyebrows furrowing while she tried to decipher your overreaction. “I just wanted to make sure,”

You swallowed hard, moving up in line. “I know. Sorry, I snapped. I was up late,”

Her lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “Ah yes, you got fucked to get over how Roary fucked you out of your starting spot,”

You threw your head back and groaned, red coloring your cheeks as the line around you erupted in giggles.

You would never outlive your… reputation, but that was ok because at least it stopped Christen from asking too many questions. Questions that would make their way back to your sister.

They would never believe that the girl who had distracted you wasn’t one you were currently sleeping with anyway.

“Morgan, you’re up,” The striking coach said, his voice sobering your teammates. “Let’s see if you can do the other half of the drill as well as you did the first,”

You easily stopped the ball he passed your way, winking towards McCaffrey. “I’ll do better. There’s a reason I’m a midfielder after all,”

You would have to thank Taylor for making you practice. She was right, it did make you feel better, and you were on your way to proving why you were one of the best in the world.

OoOoOoO

“I can’t believe you’ve never had a burrito before,” You said, biting into your chicken and queso concoction.

It had been an easy decision to grab Chipotle after practice, one you hadn’t really thought about until the text came through that Taylor didn’t know what to order.

That she had never been to one of your favorite post-practice restaurants.

“I’ve just never gotten around to it. They’re not common in Nashville,” She hummed, delicately biting into her own streak and bean creation. “How was practice,”

You scrunched your nose but decided that pointing out that Chipotle was a national chain (and that you and Emily had eaten at one when you played Australia in Nashville) wasn��t worth it. You felt like there was something… off about her relationship with food, but you didn’t know if you were close enough to be able to bring it up.

You honestly didn’t know if you were just friends, because the way she looked at you felt like you were edging on something more.

“Fine,” Your shoulder lifted and fell as you took another bite and swallowed. You grabbed a chip from your bag, shoving it in the top of your burrito. “Apparently I’m starting tomorrow,”

Taylor frowned. “That feels like quite the jump from being left off the roster,”

She wasn’t entirely sure how the whole selection process worked for roster and starting lineups (despite her recent research into the topic), but it felt very weird for you to go from essentially not on the team to one of the people who would carry it through the game.

You made a low sound of agreement, swallowing. “I have a feeling it was ownership’s call,”

Taylor raised an eyebrow at you, clearly asking for a more comprehensive explanation.

“We lost like 6-0,” You explained. “And our media guy said that the attendance dropped by 40% because I wasn’t on the bench,”

It was one of the few concessions that Roary made. The team hadn’t been able to break through North Carolina’s midfield without your creativity or ability to draw defenders. They hadn’t been able to supply the forwards or stop the line-breaking balls Zerboni kept sending through, and ultimately it led to a complete creaming of your team.

They needed you on the field, no matter how loath he was to admit it. That’s why you assumed Armin had overridden the coach's judgment.

The team brought in less money when they lost.

Taylor nodded in understanding and the two of you lapsed into silence, slowly munching on your respective burritos.

“I can’t believe you have a game 2 days apart,” She said after a few minutes. “Doesn’t seem to leave you a lot of time to recover,”

You tilted your head. “The league wants to squeeze in as many matches as they can before the international break,”

“That seems reasonable,” Taylor said, seemingly agreeing with you.

It didn’t, but the league (and the owners) weren’t really concerned with your health. You were basically a trading card designed to bring them more money.

You played with the foil around your burrito, biting your lip. “I um… I have an extra pass if you want to come watch,”

She paused, her grin dipping into a frown. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Going out somewhere isn’t always easy,”

Not that she was sure anyone even knew she was in Chicago. So far, there hadn’t been any talk on social media of her impromptu trip, and she had no intention of that changing.

She didn’t need the space in front of your apartment becoming a circus. Not with the horrible things the press had been saying about her.

“The seat is in a box, so no one would see you if you decided you wanted to go, and you can use the player’s entrance,” You explained, trying to seem like you didn’t care what her answer would be. Trying to pretend like you wouldn’t care if she decided not to one. “No cameras are allowed in the tunnels,”

Her lips pressed very tightly together, seemingly seeing through your facade. “I just don’t want to take away from your game,”

“You can’t distract from the match,” You shrugged. “There will already be crazy speculation because I’m on the roster, and the Camp call-ups haven’t been made public yet,”

She hummed. She knew that the media that you dealt with was different, but still vicious nonetheless.

Instead of picking apart your outfit choice or your performances on stage, they tore apart your play. They ripped your soccer skills apart and compared you to your sister at every turn.

“I think it’s horrible that they’re focusing so much on one play,”

It was still difficult for her to wrap her head around how a singular moment had seemingly derailed your entire career, but then again a single misconstrued phone call had derailed hers.

You shrugged. It was nothing when compared to what Taylor was dealing with. “At least they’re attacking me for something I actually did. I ended my soccer career with a single kick. You’re being punished for a man’s lies,”

Taylor nodded slowly, taking another bite of her burrito.

She didn’t think either circumstance was fair, but that was the position that you were both in. You were trapped by your coaches and she was trapped by perception.

The only thing either of you could do was control the things you could, and enjoy the ride. Everything would even out eventually.

“I’ll come to your game,” She said, not just because she knew it would make you happy, but also because she wasn’t ready to leave yet, and going to the game would mean spending more time with you.

Plus, there was no way she would miss seeing you so in your element in person. Not when it was so ridiculously attractive on screen.

Your whole face lit up. “Really?”

She couldn’t help but smile too. “Yeah, it should be fun,”

Even if the paparazzi got wind of it, seeing you look so happy for the first time since you returned from Brazil would make it worth it.

“It’ll be great. I’ll even make sure to score for you,” You said, wiggling excitedly as you cleaned up your burrito wrapper and held the bag up for her as Art and Apollo both sniffed at it (she was shocked they hadn’t even begged for scraps earlier).

“If you do, you’ve gotta do the backflip celebration,” She chucked, tossing the aluminum wrapped from her burrito into the bag. “That one’s my favorite,”

You paused, your grin morphing into a mischievous smirk at the mention of your very famous goal celebration.

“For sure,” You said with your signature wink, and Taylor couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I’ll do a double if I get a hat trick, just for you,”

It took a second for her peels of laughter to dissolve into shorter giggles and for her to catch her breath. It was so strange to have the look you always sent fans directed at her. The look she was sure had landed you most of your famous hookups.

Though it kind of melted her heart that you only used it on her in a comedic sense. That it shifted back to the look she liked to think you saved just for her as soon as her giggles filled the air.

“Do you want to watch something before dinner?” You asked, sobering and shifting awkwardly on the couch. “The pups and I thought a pillow fort would be cool,”

Taylor hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. “I think that sounds incredible,”

The little fist pump you gave was adorable, as was the way the dogs hopped around you, and in that moment she knew.

When she looked back on this moment, it would be the one she would point to as the moment she knew she was in love.

OoOoOoO

Taylor had been to a lot of places in her life. She had played down the road from Seat Geek Stadium in Chicago many times.

But she had never gotten to see this side of the city.

She had never gotten to be normal and watch a game without hordes of people screaming for her attention. She hadn’t even needed to use the special player entrance. The stadium attendants had escorted them to the box with zero fanfare, and she felt safe sitting in the open area of the box with the promise that the cameras rarely panned it.

She didn’t even regret not bringing extra security like she thought she would.

Her heart also fluttered each time you glanced up at the box, smiling impossibly wider each time she waved.

It was like the little lanyard pass you had given her (and Tony) was an invisibility cloak.

It was an addictive feeling to be so… free. To be hidden to the rest of the world but so visible to you.

“She’s really on fire tonight,” Tony said, glancing over at the game clock.

You had only been on the field for 15 minutes, and you had already scored twice.

“She’s got a lot to prove,” Taylor hummed, leaning forward in her seat as you slotted another better ball between the two opposing team’s defenders. “This is the first time she’s gotten to play since the Olympics,”

You had already told her that you probably wouldn’t get to play the full first half anyway. Your coach was stuck on the penalty you took in Brazil just like the rest of the world was, even if Taylor didn’t see a point in basing your playtime off of it.

That meant you had limited minutes to prove to them that you deserved to be on the pitch. To make them regret not starting you in other games,

Tony’s head tilted as number 23 played a quick pass back to you and the ball buried itself into the back of the net with just the tap of your toes for your 3rd goal of the evening.

It looked easy. Fluid. Even when he knew it was anything but.

You smiled as the crowd went absolutely wild, tipping an invisible hat towards the bench.

“I think it has more to do with who’s here,” Tony countered, gesturing towards where you winking towards the player's box was replaying on the Jumbotron.

She shrugged, ignoring the slight red creeping up her cheeks and his sideways glance. “The team has so much more energy when she’s on the field,”

Even as the teams got ready to reset, you bounced on your toes, twisting your hips in a way that reminded her of the shake it off dance and saying words Taylor couldn’t hear to your teammates. Words she was sure were organizing your offense. Words she knew would help you continue to shred your former team, even if she herself wouldn’t understand them (watching a game with you had been like listening to a foreign language as you yelled at the screen, unwilling to translate until it was over).

“She’s the focal point of their offense,” Tony agreed, deciding not to comment further on Taylor’s blush. “But tonight she’s playing more flashy than she normally plays,”

Taylor hummed. He was right.

From what she had seen, you were not generally a selfish player. You liked to serve balls on a platter to make your team look good. You liked to pull defenders and set your strikers up.

Tonight you hadn’t done that.

Tonight you had taken the chances for yourself, putting them in the back of the net and making sure the league knew exactly what you were capable of. You wanted to show them how dangerous you could be.

“She’s proving a point,” Taylor reiterated.

“I don’t disagree,” Tony said as you slotted a very nice through pass past the first defender, and the second just barely poked it out for a corner kick. You glanced up towards the box as you took your position, a little smirk on your face. “I’m just not sold that she’s only proving a point to the coaching staff, her teammates and the reporters,”

Taylor’s head tilted.

It was true that while you didn’t play flashy, you did like to tease the fans (and whoever had caught your eye that week). You knew their obsession with you, and you never missed an opportunity to play it up.

But this felt different.

You hadn’t been winking at anyone on the field, or in the stands. The only place you kept looking was over towards the coaching staff and up at her.

“She doesn’t have anything to prove to me,” She said, sitting back in her chair as your header landed in the keeper's hands.

Tony smirked. “I know that and you know that,”

Taylor made a low noise, her eyes flitting to the sideline where the 4th official was getting ready with the sub-board. “I think she knows that too,”

You trudged to the sideline when your number came up, using your jersey to wipe your mouth (flashing your abs to the crowd) and glancing up at the clock.

Taylor followed your eyes, frowning at the large 25 on the screen.

It was stupid to take you off when you were playing so well, and the booing from the crowd echoed her sentiment. The fans were about as happy as you looked about coming off, even if it was already expected.

You ignored your replacement and brushed off the coach's hand, glaring at him as you took the pinny from one of the equipment managers.

There was an odd friction between you and the man, one that brought out a fierceness and an anger that countered your normally sunny personality. But then again, your personality was much different when you were on the field anyway.

There was a confidence and swagger about you that made butterflies erupt in her stomach. That made her want you in a way that should make her feel uncomfortable.

But even now, the way you signed autographs for the fans behind the bench reminded her that you were still you. You were still the sweet and shy, not the cocky character you played on the field (even if she was rather sexy).

This version of you was the one that melted her heart.

“She might know that, but I think she wants to impress you anyway,” Tony said, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s cute,”

Taylor raised an eyebrow at him, clearing her throat and trying to ignore the warmth that moved from her cheeks up to her ears. “Shut up,”

He chuckled, settling back in his seat, ready for the rest of the game (even if it had considerably slowed down now that you weren’t playing). He had a feeling that he would get to witness many more of your interactions in the future and that he would get to see your insane footwork on the field again if the look on Taylor’s face was anything to go by.

Getting to see the two of you actually interact together had to be just as adorable, and he was looking forward to it.

OoOoOoO

You sighed, leaning back on the couch, scratching Orion’s head where he rested it in your lap, just above your air therapy boots, and changing the channel for the 30th time.

You weren’t actually watching the television, but you thought that some background noise would help alleviate the odd emptiness that had overtaken your apartment. It was quiet in a way you hadn’t expected now that Taylor (and Tony) were gone, and it made you feel like there was a little piece of you missing.

Post-game recovery was always your least favorite part of the process. It always gave you too much time to think and to worry. To dissect every movement you made on the field.

But now it also gave you too much time to miss Taylor.

You understood why she had to leave after a quick congratulations after the game. You knew she was busy and that she needed to be in New York to record.

That didn’t mean that a part of you didn’t wish she had stayed.

You shook your head, shifting on the couch (much to Orion's annoyance).

You weren’t supposed to get attached to Taylor. To people in general, really.

Experience taught you that they would all leave eventually, no matter what they said or how much they promised you they wouldn’t.

Your parents forgot about your existence when Alex started getting called up to the U20 team. Alex left you for college and was too wrapped up in her new life to remember you existed either. Your friends all left when they realized that you weren’t worth the effort.

And Taylor…

She would leave too when she found out about the feelings you harbored for her.

She would write a song about how you ruined your friendship because you were too selfish to accept that she would never feel like you did. Even if she didn’t, she would leave once she saw how fucked up you really were.

Still, the little voice in your brain fixated on the chemistry between the two of you. On the moments where you caught her staring at your abs during the game, or how you would swear she was staring at your lips when you met her in the tunnel afterward.

But she couldn’t like you that way, and if she did it was something more than a sexual curiosity.

You blew out another breath.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t crossed that line with your friends before, you had, but you didn’t want it to be like that with Taylor. You didn’t want her to be a fuck buddy or a one night stand that she would regret later.

You couldn’t cross that line without her leaving you, but you weren’t even sure if there was a line to cross. Hell, you had never had a real relationship so you weren’t even sure if you had already crossed it.

Did friends do the things you and Taylor did? Did friends fly cross country to help? Did they cuddle in pillow forts?

You were just… lost.

You had never felt so… attached before.

You let your head fall back on the couch with a low thump. You didn’t know what to do, and you couldn’t call the person you normally would (Kelley) because she would tell Alex.

You grabbed your phone from the edge of the couch, scrolling through your contacts until you found one of the few who weren’t ignoring you for missing the PK. One of the few who you trusted (even if you would get the shit teased out of you).

You paused, your finger hovering over Emily’s picture.

She would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

It took you another second to gain the courage to actually press the call button, and you worried your bottom lip as it started to ring.

She was definitely going to make fun of you.

“I need your help,” You said as soon as Emily’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hello Emily, how are you? I’m fine, thank you so much for asking,”

“Emily,” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, but she just raised her eyebrows expectantly in response. Your shoulders sank. “Hello Emily, how are you?”

“I’m doing great,” She smiled cheekily back at you. “Now what’s up?”

You ran a hand through your hair, rubbing over the short curls at the back of your neck, trying to mask how nervous you were.

“I..-“ You stuttered, looking away. “There’s a girl, and I like her, but I have no clue what’s happening or what’s supposed to happen next,”

She squinted at you. “Are you dating this girl?”

“No,” You breathed out, dragging your hand from your hair to press into your forehead. “I don’t think so. She’s my friend. She’s straight, but there’s all this weird tension, and I’m not sure if she would ever want to date me. I doubt it, cause like I said she’s straight. But she’s really really pretty and we cuddle and I like her a lot but i-“

“Y/n,” Emily said, cutting you off mid-ramble, a playful smile pulling at her lips.

You blinked at her. “Yeah?”

“Let’s just start at the beginning,” She leaned forward, towards the phone, accentuating each syllable. “And talk at a pace where I can actually understand you,”

“I…I got drunk and missed a game,” You swallowed down your blush and looked away from her raised eyebrow. “She flew to Chicago to see me because she was worried, and I bought her her first burrito-,”

“She’s never had a burrito before? What kind of person hasn’t had a burrito?” Emily snorted, and you felt the tension in your chest relax a little.

You shrugged. “She said she never had one before. She liked it a lot,”

Emily’s head tilted in question, but she waved her hand. “Ok, carry on with your story,”

You swallowed hard, focusing on how your fingers dug into the spot at the back of your neck“She came to check on me and convinced me to go to practice. I bought her a burrito, and we had Thai for dinner.

“Did she sleep over?” She asked you, her pointer finger tapping her bottom lip.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. The huskies cuddled up with us in a pillow fort and we both fell asleep to survivor,”

Emily sighed, sending you a pointed look. That wasn’t what she had been asking. “But you didn’t sleep together?”

Red instantly colored your cheeks, and the pads of your fingers dug further into the muscles at the base of your skull. “Not in the um… traditional sense,”

You looked away from her, unable to meet her eyes. You couldn’t have Taylor in that way. She didn’t want you.

And if you crossed that boundary (like you had with only one other person who was a friend) then you knew you would lose her.

You weren’t ready for that.

But at the same time, you didn’t know how to not cross it. Not with the feelings still bubbling in your chest.

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Is she still there?”

“No, she had to go back to New York after the game,” You shook your head. “And we’re going to meet up again while you all are at came because there’s a break,”

Despite how much you didn’t want her to go, you understood that she had responsibilities and music to record, but that didn’t stop the way your chest ached now that she was gone.

It didn’t stop the confusion racing around your brain.

Emily stared at you like you had grown 3 heads. “A girl flew to Chicago for you, waited at your shitty apartment while you were at practice, let you bring her lunch and take her out to dinner, then attended a shitty Red Stars game and you still don’t know if she’s into you,”

You sighed, weaving your fingers through the too-long curls at the base of your neck and tugging.

“She’s my friend, Emily,” You grit out.

She raised an eyebrow at you. “The same friend who answers every time you call her,”

You tugged harder. “You don’t understand,”

Taylor was like that with all of her friends. She made everyone feel like they were the only person she could see. The only person who mattered when she was with them.

“I understand just fine,” She snorted. “You’re such a dumbass,”

You sent her a withering glare. “Emily be serious, please,”

She held her hand up in defense. “I am being serious. You’ve been on at least 2 dates, and she invited you to her place. All before the two of you have hooked up. If that doesn’t scream dating, or the desire to be dating, then I don’t know what will,”

You shook your head, dragging your fingers up through your hair and down your face.

This was why you hadn’t wanted to call Emily. Why Kelley or Alex would have been a much better option.

“This is not why I called you,” You mumbled.

“Then what is?” She asked, sounding amused.

“I…-“ You bit your lip and finally looked up at her, meeting her eyes through the phone. “I don’t know how any of this works, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do next,”

“Well, at some point a conversation should happen where you define what you two are doing,” She said slowly, her voice turning soft but serious. “but other than that, I think you just go with it,”

You squinted. “Just go with it?”

What was her brilliant advice to your crisis? To just… let whatever was going to happen happen.

“Yeah, if you’re into it and she’s into it, just be into it, together,” She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”

Part of you wanted to yell that it already was complicated. That you couldn’t cross a line and lose her like you’d lost everyone else. But you didn’t.

“Ok,” You said. “Thank you,”

Emily smiled brilliantly back at you. “No problem, I’ll see you soon,”

You stared at the black screen of the phone as she ended the call.

Maybe she was right. Maybe you just had to go with it and trust your gut.

Maybe it would all be ok if you didn’t overthink it. That’s why you were good at hookups after all wasn’t it?

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needtochangemyname · 5 months

Text

Azula Week - Day 6 Band AU

Summary: Azula is in a kpop band and her company controls almost every aspect of her life; especially surrounding dating. Which becomes a problem when she meets Katara.

TW: Referenced Suicide

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needtochangemyname · 5 months

Note

It's me again, could you do part 2 of symbiote reader?

LEECH ON LOVE [PART TWO]

Mackenzie hunt/Symbiote!Reader

Words: 2,791

Summary: Reader has fight a another Symbiote, everyone finds out, shit goes down, I wrote this at 1:28 AM and have never craved death harder than now.

September 3rd, 2014, 8:38 PM.

Grace is missing, symbiotes are trying to take over the town, and the supernatural is real, how’s your week going?

I sit in the bowling alley, I’ve kept myself quiet enough to slip under the radar while the others discuss, apparently symbiotes had kidnapped Grace as a host, and they were speculating as to why, I knew.

If you’re wondering why I didn’t mention Ray, listen to the conversation around me and you’ll figure it out, “Symbiotes are parasites by nature, they leech off of specific human emotions, a creature like that is a threat to everybody, leaving them unattended for even a moment could have catastrophic consequences.” Diego spoke up, his tone confident and unaware of the way Ray flared inside of me.

“You really want to discuss leeches, pale princess?” Ray’s snark echoed in my mind, and I had to hold back a exhale of laughter, even when protectiveness echoes in my heart.

It wasn’t Ray’s fault her kind didn’t have the best reputation, she wasn’t like that, she only took what she needed from me, I’ve never been left empty.

“Hey, are you alright?” The sheriff murmurs to me, I’m stunned by her concern, some parts of me expected her to be upset at me, I mean, after I went home to to check on Grace and found her nowhere, I tracked her phone to the lake, where I found the very not human Sheriff sniffing around.

Oddly, I felt my cheeks start to warm, “I’m alright, sheriff- er, Mackenzie.” I always thought she was pretty cute, though we haven’t interacted before this point, I just saw her around town often.

“Ooh, someone has a crushhh, can I be your wingman?! I’ve seen your past few attempts at flirting with people and I think you desperately need my guidance.” I clench my teeth to stop myself from reacting, I didn’t want Mackenzie to think I was insulting her.

“It’s okay if it isn’t, I can’t even begin to imagine what you must be going through, with Grace and… us.” She frowns sympathetically at me, and a pang of sadness makes my stomach drop at the thought of Grace.

I missed her so much, regret curdled my heart at the small sliver of resentment i’ve held, I know I never wished her away, but now that she’s gone I can’t help the guilt, mixed with sadness is a depression cocktail.

“If any of those space goop motherfuckers show their face I’ll burn them to a crisp.” I heard JD announce from across the bar, and I really wished I had a real cocktail, and from the aggression in the back of my head that is definitely not mine, Ray could use one too.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” I give her a small smile, and she returns it, placing her hand next to mine on the bar, not touching, but the gesture is there.

September 4th, 2014, 1:33 AM.

They took Grace, they took Grace from me.

I stare down the Symbiote, the call of Ray’s hunger had pulled me into my car, driving towards Indy, a busy city that wouldn’t notice me springing around from roof to roof, maybe stopping a few minor crimes.

But I’d only managed to make it to one of Havenfall’s infamous cornfields before something jostled the car, thinking I hit something, I pulled over and hopped out, looking around, I couldn’t see anything, until the corn parted like a gateway to hell, and mangled Symbiote spilled out.

Hatred gripped me, I’d managed to get my anger issues under control after a year with Ray, but with the hunger in the back of my mind, my exhaustion, and worry over Grace, it spilled over like a bubbling pot.

The slick feeling of Ray’s substance against my skin was cool, battling against the flush of anger, it fitted perfectly over my body, black with stripes of a dark, dusty red, matching glowing eyes that could rival any L.E.D.

Our mouth opened, the sharp set of teeth baring in aggression, a growl rising out of our throat.

It seemed to break something in them, they lunged at me, stumbling with their arms out to grasp me, we slipped away easily, practise ease in our movements, their fluidity was rough and hard as their human host struggled fruitlessly against them.

We fought with practised precision, the parasite, dark blue with electric white stripes and a lanky-like build for a symbiote recovered, trying to lunge at us again with their teeth bared,

We grabbed them by their chin, pulling their snapping teeth away from us, giving a lethal squeeze that made our nails dig far into the blue sludge, we privately hoped we hadn’t reached the human inside, our other hand swiftly pressed against their chest.

We activated our ability, the symbiote letting out a ear-splitting scream as the sludge scatters and falls on the road like peeled wallpaper.

The blue stains the road, wiggling and searching for its other pieces to rebuild, in total disarray.

We snarl, saliva dripping from our elongated tongue, we knew that they’d reform soon enough, but if we burnt the remains, we wouldn’t have to worry about them much longer.

We rolled our shoulders, a long, long night was ahead.

September 12th, 2014, 6:45 PM.

Mac kissed me, and I kissed her, and she didn’t push me away in disgust—

“WOOO, THATS, MY, GIRL, I’M LITERALLY THE BEST WINGMAN, LIKE WHAT, I GOT EVEN YOUR ASS SOON-TO-BE-LAID!” Ray whooped in my mind, and I was too flustered to even bite back, I’m not usually flustered, a witty remark always ready on my lips, but it seems she’s kissed it right off.

“Is this okay?” Mac’s embarrassed smile made something further in me melt, I bit my lip and nodded as Ray continued to go feral in my mind, “Of course that’s okay, please they’re so lonely, they need you.”.

I’m gripping her arm so tight, I’m surprised she didn’t wince in pain, “It’s so, so okay,” she meets my lips again, her body pressing against mine, her heat burning me in a way I could only ever love.

I’ve always been quite cold, heat making me hiss as Ray’s instincts kick in, associating fire with her demise, but this fire in my heart, the warmth of Mackenzie on me, something achingly similar to love setting my soul on fire, it was addicting, even if it resulted in the death of me, it’s the only way I’d want to go.

“SHERIFF!” the shrill voice of the deputy crackles out the comm, pure fear and shock overwhelming his young voice, “Something’s happening, Sheriff, you have to get down here!”

Mackenzie’s smile vanishes, she straightens up, tension locking up her muscles from their previous, open state.

That.. doesn’t sound good, “Old gangly limbed doesn’t sound too well, fuck’s happening down there?”

September 12th, 2014, 7:17 PM

Fuck, fuck, this got out of hand quickly.

More Symbiotes than I could’ve imagined litter the streets, JD is in the air, flaming them down like they promised, Diego is warping enough to work up a sweat as he tears uselessly at the sludge, trying not to injure the civilians but clearly out of his depth, Razi trying to keep the area contained, blue smog dusting the streets.

But, worst of all, Mackenzie faces the largest one, a tall bulky frame, light red with numerous black streaks across their skin, like a tiger almost, sharp large teeth on display as they snarl, a thick long tongue slipping out to lick at them.

She’s gripping her arm so roughly I’m sure it causes more blood to leak out of it, a large bite mark where they managed to bite her.

I rushed to her side, grief and protective anger rushing inside me, the others had advised me to stay away, but I wasn’t going to do that when she was in danger, “What are you doing?! Get out of here!” Mackenzie shouted desperately, though I know she wasn’t shouting at me, just raising her voice to reach over the volume that chaos brought.

“Mac, you’re great, but you can’t beat them!” I raised my own voice, Ray’s power giving my voice a boost, I didn’t want to expose myself, but I knew we were the only ones who stood a chance.

My grip on her shoulder tightened as I turn to stare down the symbiote, my tongue licked at my teeth in the same fashion as they did, Ray spreading throughout my body, like a coat of power on my skin.

Mackenzie’s ragged gasp cut us slightly, we didn’t want to hide from her, and we didn’t want to ruin whatever it is we had, but there was no chance for us if she was dead.

The symbiote, Strenuous, we’d heard him mutter in a low growl, flinched back in surprise, their eyes held intelligence we didn’t see in any of the lessers eyes, their host was old, and they were potentially older than them, and whoever they leeched off on didn’t show even an ounce of resistance.

We were probably over our head, just a little.

September 13th, 2014, 12:44 PM

The walk to the bowling alley was silent, the treatment from Diego was silent, aside from the few questions that were required, spoken in a careful clinical mask, silence rang through the street when I followed Mackenzie out to her car.

The radio buzzed, though neither of us were paying attention, Ray was suspiciously silent, for the first time in about four years.

Though her feelings that poked into the back of my mind was pretty much a chorus of, “We fucked up, we fucked up, haha, we’re fucked.” and I didn’t really appreciate that, but talking to her right now might make everything more awkward, and it was already tense enough I felt like I could swipe at it and get it caught underneath my fingernails.

The car pulled to a stop, I peeked out the window, and Mackenzie’s house stood tall and proud, her home felt like safety, but at the moment it felt like the Supreme Court, and I was about to go on trial.

The walk to her doorstep was silent, she awkwardly opened the door for me and I accepted it with a anxious nod, stepping through, I wasn’t really sure what to do with myself, but Mackenzie breezed past me and sat on the couch, inviting me with a pat of her hand on the opposite cushion.

I shuffled over, a true walk of shame, okay, I wasn’t ashamed, she was a annoying little shit but I could never be ashamed of Ray, “Aw, thanks, but you kind of have bigger problems at the moment.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She blurts it out, looking a little embarrassed afterwards, but she didn’t retract her statement, looking at me expectantly.

Well shit, time to spill the beans I guess, “You.. You guys realised how you were speaking about the Symbiotes, right?“ I couldn’t tell if the question was rhetorical or not, but Mackenzie decided for me.

“Nothing we said was untrue, Symbiotes are parasites by nature.” It defiantly wasn’t the time, but both me and Ray flared in anger, “Square up.” but I pushed it down, trying a calm approach.

“Ray isn’t like that, she’s kinder than them, and I’m not defending those others, but,” I exhaled softly, hoping what I was going to say didn’t come out wrong, “They gotta eat, I mean Diego…”

That made her straighten, “There’s a difference between Diego and.. them, Symbiotes are more primal.” Something desperate flashes across her expression, I can tell she’s trying her tough cop mask but Mac wasn’t good at hiding her emotions, she wore them on her sleeve, “Please, it’s dangerous, and I care about you too much to let you get hurt when I can prevent it, we can figure out a way to remove it—“

I cared about Mac, so much, but I couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Ray, memories flashed through my mind, the late night talks when I couldn’t fall asleep, the movies, the eating contest that always made us and Grace dissolve into laughter, I loved Mac, I realise that, but I loved Ray too.

I stood up abruptly, hissing softly as anger, sadness and protective instincts swelled in my chest, sinking my stomach, “I can’t believe you! Ray saved your life and this is how you repay her?“

Something desperate rose in Ray at the idea of separation, she would rather fast for a month than admit it but the idea of leaving me, even for a ‘better’ host made her shake, she was just as attached to me as her, Ray didn’t do this often, preferring to hang out safely in my body, but she rose from my skin.

“You’re just as much a danger to them as I am, what gives you the right to stick around?” That was harsh, I’ll admit, Ray can be blunt often, “If your own hypocritical prejudices control you, then you don’t deserve to be around my human, let alone kiss them.”

With that I stormed off, out the door, and into the night, Ray’s substance covering my skin and wiping away our tears.

September 15th, 2014, 1:50 PM.

Maybe it was childish, I just didn’t particularly want to see any of them right now.

I’ve skipped out on work, it’s bad I know, either hanging out near the lake or hauling onto my couch with a movie and a depression worthy amount of food, this time for me and Ray.

Right now I was hanging around the lake, I missed Mac, that’s usually why I come here, but I wasn’t going to go reach out to her, besides I don’t think she wants to see me right now either.

At least that’s what I thought until I felt a presence next to me, a strong energy that I could recognise anywhere, one I’ve never been able to run from, she sat down next to me, almost hesitantly.

We sat in silence for awhile, I wasn’t going to say the first words, if she sought me out, she should be the one to have something to say.

“I’m sorry.” It slipped from her mouth, taking me off guard slightly, and when I turned, I saw she was already looking at me, “I was wrong.”

It’s put so plainly, but the force behind them leaves no room for me to think she was lying, and something cracks inside me, I shuffle closer to her and she welcomes me under her arm.

“I-I didn’t want to keep it from everyone, especially not you,” My words came out weaker, and that seemed to have more of a impact than if I’d matched her strength, I rarely let myself look weak in-front of anybody, “But with the way you were speaking about them, like some scum on the bottom of your shoe, I was just so worried that you’d hurt her.. or hate me.”

My voice cracks slightly, i’m getting choked up, “And that was wrong of me, I’ e already talked some sense into the others,” she hesitates slightly, and carefully picks her next words, “I, we, still have our concerns, but I trust you, and if you trust her..”

I tilt my head onto Mac’s shoulder, allowing Ray to rise from my collarbone, “I understand your worry, our kind isn’t exactly know to be.. well, kind, but I promise I am no threat to them, and I don’t think you are either.” I rarely see Ray this serious, speaking without roasting me like a whole chicken, it’s refreshing in a way.

I can tell the sight of Ray still makes Mackenzie uncomfortable,but she manages a small smile, “Ah, thank you.. Ray.”

“It’s Mrs, Disarray to you, wolf, and can y’all keep it PG while I’m awake please? I’m into your relationship but not that into it.”

“RAY.”

BONUS:

“Nachos, pickles, hot sauce, creamed corn, Doritos, sour cream, finally, my magnum opus is complete.” JD sprinkled a packet of pop rocks on their monstrosity, grinning like a fiery gremlin.

“That’s a crime.” I felt sick looking at it, but that seemed to only egg Ray on, “Give it to me, give it to me, push it closer.” She chanted and JD complied with a shit eating grin.

I looked away, if she really ate that, then I might throw it back up, everyone’s still iffy around Ray but apparently JD warms up fast, pun not intended.

The sickening crunch of nachos and Doritos makes me dry heave, “You, did, not.”

“Oh, she did.” “I’m going to hurl.”

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needtochangemyname · 5 months

Note

Ok you or anyone can fight on this but, imagine Mackenzie with reader who has a symbiote

LEECH ON LOVE [PART ONE]

Mackenzie Hunt/Symbiote!Reader

Words: 2,762

Summary: MC gets a symbiote, Grace goes missing, this is the backstory, exciting stuff will come soon, this is just the foundation :>

January 12th, 2010, 7:52 PM.

The sun was setting, darkness quickly swallowing the trees of the forest that surrounds me, the day was finally coming to the end and I felt a rush of relief, despite how guilty it made me.

I turned twenty today, Grace had decided to go all out with what little money our grandma had left behind, I awoke to frozen chocolate chip waffles and the rest of the orange juice in the carton, I appreciated it so much, but I didn’t feel much like celebrating,

Our grandma had died only a few months ago, and I had to drop my trip to sunny Spain to take care of my little sister, I could tell how bad she felt about it, and did everything in her power to be less of a burden and I constantly reassured her I’d drop anything for my favourite little sister.

But I couldn’t deny the tiny, aching bit of resentment, Nana was always too old to really care for Grace, so the responsibility had been left to me, I was looking forward to spending some time being me, discovering myself, who I am when I’m not being a mother responsible older sister.

Shaking my head softly, I cleared the thoughts out my head and continued to trek home, stewing on these thoughts would only put me in a foul mood, there is no point in spiralling, it was late, and the small light from the sunset will evaporate soon.

The thick, tall trees blocked off the sinking star, the inky colours made the trees all blur together, so when a soft, distant red light highlighted the bark it drew my attention quickly.

I stepped towards it, narrowly missing tripping on a pulled out root, I peeked behind the tree and saw the light only grew, I glanced at the trail that lead to my truck, it was late and Grace would be getting worried, she was quite a anxious person, and even was hesitant to let me go on this evening walk.

I could tell whatever was glowing was close, nothing could be bright enough to stretch that far, I bit my lip, ever since I’ve retaken the role of Grace’s protector, I haven’t been able to do anything fun, it’s always job searching and budgeting, it wouldn’t hurt to give into my ever persistent curiosity this one time, right?

The small smile that stretches across my lips convinces me, I sprint softly through the narrow row of trees, mentally marking where I was so I could return when I was done.

Grandma was always chuckling about how nosy I was, and how my snooping will get me in trouble one of these days, it made me snicker slightly, I admit, I was always was quite curious as a child and never quite grew out of it, it’s something the close people in my life have grown begrudgingly fond of.

As I inched closer, the brightness only grew, a red illumination that pulled me closer and closer, until I was brought into a crater I didn’t remember from my childhood, something laid in the centre, evidently the cause of the destruction, it was a large rock, red glowing cracks all over it.

My heart was thumping in my ears, I remember all the alien documentaries i’d stayed up way too late watching, if this was a real life spaceship I was going to lose my shit, whether that was a positive or negative thing I have yet to figure out.

As my feet moved me closer, I felt my stomach twist, parts of my mind were screaming at me to turn back, I didn’t know what this was, if it was dangerous or not, but something stronger pulled me closer, until I was hovering right over the boulder, it reached my thighs, but it was thick and wide.

Warmth radiates off the rock, especially from the glowing red cracks, so bright it was almost blinding, I reached a hand out, brushing it lightly on it, the texture was indescribable, soft and silky but rough at the same time, hard.

The rock splits, cracking at the lightning speed of my breath hitching, something black slithered out of it, wrapping around my arm with a vice like grip, it was gooey and sticky, briefly reminding me of those slime souvenirs in the tourist traps i’d almost been tempted into.

I can’t help the squeal I let out, trying to yank my hand back while I stumble back, it didn’t seem to be trying to drag me towards it, instead pushing itself onto me.

This is it, this is how I die, by some weird black mush from space, Some grim parts of my brain had always wished to at least die in a interesting way but this isn’t what I meant.

My legs fall from underneath me, whatever it is has splashed onto my face, my vision is completely backed out, but I can feel the cold slush against the bare parts of my skin, somehow sinking inside.

And then there was nothing.

I’m on my back, the moon staring down at me with her cold, unwavering gaze, and I scramble up, there’s no trace of whatever I saw, the boulder sits there in two pieces, a dark grey with regular cracks, no red glow or black slush.

I feel lightheaded, my heart in my throat, I realise a few moments later I’m hyperventilating, although Grace bared the brunt of it, anxiety was something than ran in the family, so I shakily practise some of the breathing exercise I vaguely remember from my child therapist.

I keep running it over in my head, the feeling of it, it had to be real, I don’t think my brain could just make that up, no matter how tired I am.

I’m freaking out, and I know I need to calm down, but how am I suppose to react? I feel the strongest urge to cry, my anxiety and stress tipping over and overwhelming me, but strangely, something deep inside of me, something I must of never noticed..

Enjoys it, purrs at the adrenaline rushing through my veins, my fight or flight kicking in in case something else shows up, it fulfills it, it eats it up.

January 13th, 2010, 7:12 AM.

I don’t remember much of walking home, after I was no longer at risk of passing out, i’d scrambled out of there swiftly, not wanting to stick around to see if anything else showed up.

Grace was sitting there on the couch, the television flicked on although she clearly wasn’t paying attention, her nails were unevenly short, the skin around it picked red, she flew up when I pushed the door open, looking like she was about to sob with relief.

After I hugged her and comforted her, not willing to tell her about my odd experience, she looked hysterical enough already, I slinked onto the couch, ushering her to bed, insisting she was probably exhausted and should rest.

I fell asleep pretty quickly after that, exhaustion gripping me harder than that weird alien-slush thing, leading me to wake up now, feeling surprisingly good, the ache from my muscles had pretty much evaporated.

Getting up and stretching, a satisfying pop in my spine, I checked the time and made a small, surprised noise, I didn’t usually wake up this early, laying around until about eight o’clock.

I wanted to repay Grace for what she did yesterday, and for a apology about making her worry, though staying out that late wasn’t exactly my fault, though half my brain was convinced it must’ve been a dream.

But that cold, hard grip stopped my brain from writing off reality completely, my wrist turned cold at the memory, and I rubbed it slightly before getting up, hauling myself to the kitchen and opening the fridge.

There wasn’t much, money was starting to run out pretty quickly, I’ve been scouring for jobs but the town had began to act a little off around me, I couldn’t exactly place why but I hoped they warmed back up soon, I mentally catalogued where I hadn’t applied yet.

There was that clothing store, wait no, they shut down a week ago, and I’m not exactly the most fashionable girl out there, there was the bowling alley, but apparently some other guy had taken over for Raamis, I didn’t miss a lot about Havenfall but his loud, booming voice was something i’d grown to appreciate, over a long long time.

I didn’t exactly want to work at a greasy, deserted bowling alley, but option were slipping through my fingers, so I steeled my resolve and reached for the pickles.

Neither of us particularly liked pickles, but it was something that we had to eat before it expires, or at least, we would have if the jar didn’t crack under my fingertips, my palm stings sharply and I drop it with a gasp, shards and pickles dropping onto the floor.

I look at my palm, expecting blood or something gory, but instead, to my horror, the same black slush fills the cuts, stopping the tiny flow of blood before flattening, turning into my natural skin colour.

I scramble back, holding away my right arm like it might attack me, I grip the kitchen island hard enough that it crushes slightly with a loud crack, and my heart lets out continuous loud thumps.

It couldn’t, it was just a dream, it was all in my head and there’s no possible way that last night was real, my legs are shaky, and I find them unable to support me much longer so I sink to the floor, sucking in large breaths.

I can’t breathe, my lungs feel like they’re contracting, shrivelling up and rendering me unable to get that air I so desperately need, anything that was left in my stomach from the previous day feels like a stone, nauseating.

My breathing is so harsh and loud, I don’t hear the soft pads of footsteps down the stairs, and Grace rushes around the corner, squeaking slightly in surprise when she sees my state, immediately sprinting over to me and crouching down.

“Okay, I know it’s hard, but I need you to take some deep breaths! I’ll do it too, see?” She softly held my hand, taking a deep exaggerated breath, and I try to follow along as she repeats it, though it tends to fall off into shakiness during the exhale.

When the tightness in my lungs finally recedes i’m left thoroughly exhausted, and still quite frightened, “What happened? I haven’t seen you like that in a long, long time.” Grace frowns.

I open my mouth, intending to explain everything, but I see her face, she’s pale and taking deeper breathes than normal, I know how Grace is, she’s quite the empath and seeing my panic, especially because she’s always seen me as a strong figure, must’ve caused her some internal panic herself.

“I.. broke the pickle jar.” I gesture to the cracked glass on the floor, forgotten in my prior panic, “I woke up a little off, it probably just triggered it.” Grace frowns again, I can tell she doesn’t quite believe me, but seeing my state of exhaustion she decides to not prob me anymore.

“Don’t worry about it, sis, I’ll clean it up, you go rest.” She helps me up from off the floor and I clutch onto her arm, my legs still a little shaky and weak, she sets me down on the couch and skips away to clean up my mess.

I stare at my palm, there was no cuts, no blood, it looked perfectly normal, and that’s ignoring how I was able crush a jar that dense, my mind is stuck on that sliver of black slush I saw, and the events of the night before flash again.

I clench my open palm into a fist, laying it on my lap, and then I realise my other hand had ripped the couch, oops.

September 2nd, 2014, 1:02 PM.

That black slime turned out to be a parasite, and- ouch, okay, damn, an ‘symbiote’ which is a creature from space, so I wasn’t wrong about the alien thing, and now I’m stuck with this annoying, chocolate eating thing named Disarray, but I simply call her Ray.

She’s stuck around for, oh, four years now? We’ve unfortunately spent a hell of a lot of time together, and formed a begrudgingly alliance, She’s one of the only people I feel like I can be myself around since she can’t exactly seperate herself from me.

Ray has been my secret, my little skeleton in the closet ever since I got her, I’d decided to keep her to myself after Grace passed out at the sight of Ray engulfing my body, her black substance covering my entire form, her glowing red eyes becoming my own, it took a hot second before Grace become comfortable with her presence.

And now I sit in the greasy bowling alley I managed to get employed by, daydreaming about my nighttime, uh, ‘exercise’ whenever we get the chance to go to Indianapolis, running free and finally feeding Ray with the rush of adrenaline.

“You’re too unfit to go every night, so be glad this godforsaken hellhole is far enough from Indy.” Ray spoke in my mind, and I had to hold back a eye roll and snort, Dr, Escalona was sitting right next to me at the bar and I didn’t need him thinking I was crazy.

The bowling alley was deserted, my co-worker, JD, was stacking bowling pins in suspicious ways, my boss trying to stop them, and the doctor brooding with his signature glass of red.

My lunch break was soon, and thank god for that because if I’m hungry, Ray is ready to eat a child, which isn’t hyperbole because I’ve literally had to stop her from eating everyone in the diner, even Grace once, “Don’t shame my eating habits, woman, I’ve seen you with a whole bucket of KFC.”

I didn’t hesitate when Razi looked over at me, clearly fed up with JD’s shit, “You can go on your lunch break, [Y/N], I’ll hold down the fort.” He gave me a smile, not taking out any frustration with JD’s antics on me, which is good, I’m known to be temperamental at times, I don’t fare well with people being assholes for no reason.

“Well, if you’re taking a lunch break, I might as well too!” JD stoop up, knocking over the pins balanced in a peculiar way, I shut the door before I can hear Razi respond, jogging over to the diner.

“Yessssss..” I can hear Ray hiss in satisfaction when I step through the door, the smell of greasy fried food filling my nostrils, “Finally, you’ve been absolutely starving me.”

I can’t help the small sound that escapes out my throat, but luckily nobody notices, “Oh yeah, you were truly starved when you ate the entire carton of eggs this morning solely so I couldn’t have any.” I project the thoughts loud enough so she can hear, everybody in this town already treated me like I was cursed, talking to myself wouldn’t do me any favours.

I plopped down in a booth, I’ve been going to this diner for years now, so Luce didn’t even blink when I ordered enough for a entire party, but I blinked when she herself came to take my order, “Where’s Grace?” Luce frowned at that.

“She didn’t show today, honey, I assumed she was sick?”

Panic flares inside of me, “She was perfectly fine this morning?” I could feel my breathing start to quicken slightly, and Ray made a soothing noise in my head, “It’s fine, maybe she had a panic attack and stayed home?” she spoke in a calm voice, but I could feel anxiety and protectiveness flare inside her.

“Well, please let me know if she’s alright, and I’m willing to excuse a few days, she’s always been diligent in her shifts, I can turn a blind eye this once.” Luce said before she shuffled away, the diner was started to fill, so I couldn’t blame her for needing to attend to other customers.

I stood up, I needed to check on Grace, Razi wouldn’t miss me too much, and I knew Ray was nervous because she didn’t even complain about not eating, her denied protectiveness of Grace coming in full throttle.

She probably just forget to text.

BONUS BECAUSE I HAD TO MAKE A BACKSTORY FIRST, I’M SORRY BUT PLEASE JUST BE PATIENT PART TWO WILL HAVE THE GOOD STUFF:

I’m shit at art but please accept my offering :’D

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needtochangemyname · 6 months

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The crossover you've never asked for

You're welcome ;)

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needtochangemyname · 6 months

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Motherland: Fort Salem + text posts [7/?]

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needtochangemyname · 6 months

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AU where Scylla and Raelle are Enid's mothers (and actually not toxic at all, just very, very clingy with their baby wolf 🥺🤏).

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needtochangemyname · 7 months

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avatrice au fic recommendations:

i don't think there is a single avatrice au fic that i haven't read so here are some my favorites. i tried to find ones that weren't as popular, so hopefully there are couple here you haven't read.

I want to believe by puppybusby @yashastrongarms - x files au - basically 23k of avatrice flirting while being incredibly reckless with alien shit. unfortunately, it is only a one shot that doesn't delve into their relationship, but it is so worth it. and the tension. woof.

Truly a Steadfast Love by StoicLastStand - medieval au - they have a whole series of ficlets, but this is one of my favorites. there's a tournament to win ava's hand in marriage, ava goes undercover to fight for her freedom, but she ends up falling for the very knight who everybody wants to win. i also love their lucifer au, Greater Sacrifices.

a lover, or something of mine by Smokestarrules - reincarnation au - each chapter is a different life with a different story, and i promise you, if you have anything that even resembles a heart, you will cry. i keep going back and rereading chapter 4 because apparently i love to hurt myself. i also love the world is just illusion (trying to change you) by them, it's a road trip au.

i should love you (and i swear i do) by Noteveryonefitsintothebadbitchgenre - harry potter au (fuck jk rowling) - its that trope where they're married and they talk about each other constantly but nobody actually knows they're married. their students all think that professor silva and professor young have a friendly rivalry, but there are a couple of moments that don't add up.

purple by sxftmelody - hitman au - technically, but really it's just sad, i always cry at the end. beatrice helps ava run away after a job, and slowly they open themselves up and start to fall in love. tw: major character death. also love turning page by the same author, mercenary/princess au.

in our corner of the world by definitelynotthere - roommate au - i know, i know, there's a thousand roommate aus, why would i recommend a fic that isn't even finished and will probably never get finished? i don't know, i just really love this one, and if you're like me, you'll go "ooh, two cakes" and read it anyway.

The last hero of Ogygia by jessnope - percy jackson au - specifically calypso au, ava is calypso and beatrice is the flirty hunter that washed up on her shore. it's super cute.

stay there, 'cause i'll be coming over (while our blood's still young) by britishngay - spiderman au - ava's character voice is actually designed to be spiderman, and bea is the perfect doctor lady that patches spidey up when she gets hurt. plus beatrice telling lilith to "shut up and sit down" will never not be iconic.

sunday people (sunday shines for you) by gilligankane @piratekane - another roommates au - jealous ava is back again and out for blood, specifically jenn-with-two-ns blood.

this is my prayer (I'm in love with you) by nyxtyka - my best friend's wedding/spies au - i'll be honest, this fic went to my marked for laters to die. i don't know if it'll ever be finished, but it is one of my favorite aus, i promise it'll be worth the pain.

spellbound by onomofication - witch au - beatrice is the witch in the woods that ava goes to to finally find a way to explore the world like she has always wanted to. but as she gets to know the surprisingly kind, serious, kinda-sorta witch, she discovers that maybe the world was smaller than she had once imagined. i also love another fic by this author, hit me with you best shot, which is basically a cupid au, where ava runs around trying to stop jc, a cupid, from shooting the love of her life, beatrice.

the celestial glow is blinding by understreetlights - firewatch au - did i think ava and beatrice sitting around, looking at trees, and falling love with each other through walkie talkies was going to be interesting? no, but the world loves to prove me wrong.

too cold, it's withdrawal by KatieQgle - captain america au - give this one a chance, even if you don't like marvel. beatrice is hot as fuck as bucky and honestly the winter soldier plot line needed a little sapphic yearning. come on, avatrice in the army in the 1940s, being badass and fighting nazis together? who wouldn't love that?

i have a ton more, reach out if you want them!

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needtochangemyname · 7 months

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needtochangemyname · 7 months

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— 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 & 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛

Gwen Stacy x fem! reader

summary: you weren’t friends with Gwen Stacy, you barely knew her— but an interaction during your boring algebra class might’ve changed that.

a/n: hey guys.. long time no see 👩‍🍳. THIS IS SO BAD and lowkey short and I haven’t written an actual fic in like so long so i don’t know where I stand anymore besides knowing it’s lowkey crappy.. but anyways I made this cos i was inspired by the new Spider-man movie and like four of my friends and some mutuals (u know who u are 😏) so I have this now. I swear I’m working on a Wednesday fic rn too, but the request is long asf so you guys are gonna have to munch off this for a while… i also hate this with a burning passion but whatever 🕊️

rating: um PG?

tags - nervous! gwen, shy! gwen, lowkey ooc! gwen.., oblivious! reader, dumb! reader, bad writing, awful grammar, i wrote this really late at like 3 am, tw: algebra 😭, idk if i should make a part 2?

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You’ve never truly talked to Gwen Stacy.

You both have four classes together, which is quite a bit, but you didn’t truly ever speak with her. You knew her name, what she looked like, who her best friend was— but it was difficult to not know that.

To you, she was a flustered, shy, word-sputtering, red faced mess. a socially awkward teen, which is universally known to be extraordinarily common. It was only when you thought your perception of her was wrong when you saw her conversing smoothly with a group of people.

the smile on her lips took over her whole face, the gap between her teeth visible, eyes gleaming with amusement during the time she cracked jokes. She was completely different around other people than she was with you. She didn’t profusely sweat, turn red, her tongue didn’t tie and she surely doesn’t trip on her untied shoelace’s. You wondered if she didn’t like you, maybe she didn’t want to spend a second near you— but that thought drowns down when you recall the many, many moments you’ve caught her blue eyes on you.

Staring so intensely you had felt as though she was studying you. your every feature, your movements.. it was strange, and it made you uncomfortable. you would lock eyes with her for two seconds before her face would light aflame and she would whip her head away— trying to not look back in order to avoid your eyes.

You’ve only had four “conversations” with Gwen— two of them being you asking if she’s okay after she brutally fell face smack to the floor.. it was interesting.

yet, it was the way her hues bore into you that left a strange knot the the very pit of your stomach. a strange flush of confidence— even if Gwen did not enjoy your company, it was interesting knowing she looks at you, at the very least, thirty times a day.

𓅪

the pace of the moving hallway was leisurely.

a sluggish atmosphere covered everyone, as it was Friday, the day just before a three day weekend and no one was interested in anything other than going home.

You, on the other hand, wished you had the blessing of parting from your school when the bell rang at 3:40, but you do not.

After school activities are unworth your time, and you wished you would have never agreed to participate.

A sigh escaped your mouth upon arrival of your second to last class; aka, everyone else’s last class.

Algebra.

your nemesis— a nightmare in disguise, the devil in a shape. Your hatred for Algebra outweighed any other type of emotion you have. Walking out of the classroom as the bell rings and going home is a fantasy, a petty dream.

a grumble left you after you swallowed harshly, shoving the stuck ball of nervous saliva in your mouth down your throat.

Your hand met the door handle, and you pushed it open. You knew the new seating arrangements were designated for today, so it was no surprise to see everyone in an unusual place.

the tired hues in your eyes snapped to the bored, looking over the shitty drawn classroom and the names placed next to each other.

You caught your name, and your eyes traveled to the name beside you; Gwen Stacy.

You had no quarrel with her, you had no reason to. You only hoped she didn’t laugh at your mathematical failures.

As you approached, you pursued your lips upon seeing her fiddling nervously with anything possible, trying to occupy her unoccupied hands.

You sat beside her, the chair creaking from its old age. the sound of the zipper on your backpack was drown out by the chattering of other students, you pulled out your book and placed it on the table, trying to ignore the obvious glances from the girl beside you.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, due to the math teacher always being late. The students in his class had no proof— but they swear he’s on some kind of substance due to his lack of ability to thoroughly teach his students— including yourself. You blamed him for your horrid mathematical situation, but then again, you could just be bad at it, because other students have A’s.

You saw Gwen pick at her nails, her knee bouncing up and down anxiously. You wanted to begin a possible conversation with her, but you had no clue what i would be about. Math? you wouldn’t know what you’d be speaking of.

your eyes flickered down to her notebook, it was littered with small stickers of all kinds— some of them surrounding the subject of biological science (if you’d guess). Animals, cells, Anatomy..

“is biological science something you enjoy?” before you knew it you had asked a question, tearing the awkward silence and thick air down the middle.

She froze, sweat dripping down her forehead profusely as she began sputtering her words.

“uh— yes— i mean, i guess.. it’s alright— well, yes— it is..” Her voice cracked and broke, it made you hurt for her internally.

“That’s nice. do you volunteer?” you questioned on, truly trying to dissipate the uncomfortable atmosphere.

“yes..”

“that’s really cool. biological science is difficult, you must be extremely smart.” you complimented, smiling at her although she was hiding her face with her blonde hair. She was undeniably beautiful, her eyes were bright and you liked the gap between her two front teeth, it was cute.

you eventually learned she didn’t take compliments well due to her silence.

“um.. do you have any other interests? like out of school?”

“I.. guess..”

The conversation, if it had the privilege to be called that, between you both ended when the teacher walked in, laughing boisterously, erasing what was on the board and writing an equation.

he began to explain it inefficiently, you squinted in confusion.

“and so, X equals A because C is not available as an answer.”

at this point, your eyes began fluttering shut upon the boredom of the class.

before you knew it, you were out cold.

𓅪

a repetitive tapping on your shoulder woke you up. Eyes shooting open.

“um.. you fell asleep, and class just finished.” gwen informed, a sweat drop falling down her forehead.

“oh, thank you for waking me up.” You acknowledged, yawning as you cracked your back.

“uh-um, no problem— no problem..” you caught her eyes flickering to you and away multiple times, making a strange smile fall on your lips.

Gwen was sweet, smart and cute. You think highly of her, and perhaps you should try and speak up on that.

“are you doing anything after school?” you inquire, watching her while she froze. You instantly regretted asking the questions the moment she began to stutter.

“um— no- yes, well, only for a while— not really— but.. no— I..”

She tumbled over every syllable.

“so.. no?”

“yes.”

“would you like to get a coffee downtown at the new place?” you question, tracing her side profile with your eyes.

“um.. sure..”

“wonderful! what about 4:50?”

“okay..”

You were about to say something before your name was called by a friend, catching your attention. You told them to wait a moment, turning back to Gwen.

“I’ll see you there, Gwen!” you smiled, quickly standing. Grabbing your bag you walk out the doors, sending the blonde a final look before making your way to your after school class.

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needtochangemyname · 8 months

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Survival tactics for the Apocalypse I just happen to know. Keep in mind, these apply for zombies and just a good old social collapse.

Wear denim and leather, or some types of strong military fabrics. Strong, alive human teeth can’t bite through those materials, so I doubt a zombie with rotting, dead teeth can.

Gas.Goes.Bad. I don’t understand how people are using cars like 10 years into the apocalypse, when gas will go bad after about 3-6 months, and diesel will last roughly a year.

Medicine expires! It doesn’t last for all eternity. It does remain usable, but gets weaker the longer it expires.

BRACES. If you have them, I’m sorry, but unless you find someone, somehow, to get them off, You’re pretty much screwed.

You won’t always be able to brush your teeth, sorry :,)

Your clothes will stink. You will stink. Everything will stink. Even if there aren’t zombies, there will be dead animals and people everywhere.

If you need insulin or any other type of refrigerated medicines, I’m sorry, but you’re out of luck.

Asthmatic people, including myself, will have to be super careful when it comes to losing our breath, literally.

If you need any type of blood pressure pills, or heart medicines, you’re also out of luck.

PERIODS! Blood attracts the zombies, so you’re screwed while you have pads and tampons, and even more screwed when you run out.

Guns jam and misfire, especially when not cared for properly.

Swinging a bat or a sword takes a lot of energy and stamina, and you won’t always get a one hit kill.

Canned food expires.

You want to hunt? Each time you’ll have to go out further due to exhausting the game in your area.

Never use a knife with a serrated edge on a zombie. It’ll get stuck in the bone.

Never use a knife with a serrated edge for a rib cut, cause it’ll get lodged between the bones.

Don’t pull your gun on someone who’s ready. You won’t be able to ready, aim, fire before the person shoots you first.

If you can’t hit the head, aim for the neck as well, especially if using a shotgun or high power rifle. You might be able to take off the head that way.

Human kills don’t always have to be headshots. Center mass works well.

If you’re dealing with 28 days later zombies, or The Last of Us infected, multiple body shots will take them down, as they are still alive, but a headshot will work best, and wastes less ammo.

If you’re dealing with The Walking Dead’s walkers, a headshot is the only way to put them down.

For all living things: Kill the head, the body will die.

You will not get a headshot every time. You’ll miss a lot, especially when you first start learning to shoot.

Your femoral artery is located in your upper thigh, near the groin. Try not to nick it, you’ll bleed out before anyone can even think of the proper medical response.

Remember when using knives, get one with a grip. When blood pours down the handle, the knife will become slippery and you will drop it or be unable to retrieve it.

Not all handguns use the same ammo! If you want an easily accessible gun, go for a Ruger SR22. You should be able to find them at Walmart, and their ammo is also sold at Walmart.

Keep in mind, ammo, canned foods, medicines, gas and guns are gonna be the first things to go, ergo the hardest to find.

If you have zip ties around your wrists, try to move your arms up, then jerk down and out. Repeat a couple times and they should snap.

Cold weather should stop zombies quickly, as they have no pumping/flowing blood to keep them moving.

Libraries will have books and manuals about agriculture, carpentry, mechanics, fishing, hunting, butchering and other survival things. USE THEM!

If you’re going to loot, don’t only check the obvious places. Check everywhere. A sales executive’s office may reward you with a bottle of Tylenol. A soccer mom’s van can wield granola and water bottles. A gym rat’s locker can give you protein.

Peanut butter. That’s all.

Don’t use them same knife you use to kill zombies to open your canned food. That’s gross as hell man :/

Some household cleaning products have explosive reactions when mixed together.

If you melt styrofoam it becomes homemade napalm.

High schools and colleges will not only have fully stocked pantries and nurse’s offices, but check their chemistry labs. You might find chemicals that can be made into explosives. If not, you can look at textbooks and find out which chemicals react in which ways.

If you find a school that has fences, use it! Football fields can be turned into gardens and livestock areas. The roof becomes a watchtower. The classrooms all lock, and there should be keys to all of them in the principals office or janitors closet. personal apartments, safety for the group. And no one really ever thinks to go to a school.

First place people think to go when a virus breaks out? the hospital, grocery stores, or highways to get the hell out of dodge. Avoid these places like the plague, literally. Wait for a few months until the elements and time have taken a toll on the corpses that most likely infest these places. Then try to scope them out. Never go alone, and never go in blind.

Museums should have seeds and such, especially if they have a horticultural division. Find these seeds, and use them.

A crossbow is not a good weapon. While it helps with the stealth option, it takes far too long to reload your bolts. That, along with the fact that a crossbow is so powerful, the bolt will most likely go straight through a rotted skull and lodge in the wall behind, or just get lodged in a fresh enough skull.

Farms. If the owners are dead? Oh no, its sad, yes, but now you have a farm to your advantage. Most farmers will have home canned goods, backup generators, gas stored in the barn, animals like cows (milk and beef are two different types, keep that in mind) Chickens (Try only eating designated meat chickens, as they will have more meat on them and you need layers for eggs) goats (again, meat and milk are two different types, and make sure to keep bucks and does separate or the milk will come out tasting like male goats, yuck.) Pigs, and more. They will also have crops and other things you may find helpful, especially their tractors when it comes time to plant new crops.

Corn can be used to make Ethanol.

Farms also have the luxury of being fenced in. Reinforce these fences if you can.

Dig pits for zombies to fall into, and go out regularly to dispose of them so they don’t stink up the place.

The Amish will most likely have no idea whats going on until its too late, due to their lack of technology. This is horribly sad, as most Amish families consist of the parents, their elderly parents, and anywhere from 1-15 kids. While sad, this also means these house will be stocked with food and medical supplies. And while you wont have the luxury of using a generator for electricity, All Amish homes have access to kerosene for lamps, along with access to a Well and Outhouses.

While you may have access to a generator, only use it sparingly and only if you’re isolated. Noise attracts zombies and worse, other people.

Don’t use your gun on group of zombies less than 5. They’re slow, and clumsy, and the sound of a gun will only attract more. Again, sound=bad. Wrap duct tape around your ankles, so no crawlers can get you.

Wrap duct tape around your arms. Nothing can bite you as you hold it off.

BE careful at night. Most zoos will let all of their animals free if something like this happens so they have a fair chance of survival. Lions, bears, hyenas, cheetahs, and more just got added to your ever growing list of enemies.

Stay away from Military sites unless you scope them out. Most will shoot on sight, as they do not want the infection to spread.

If the Site is abandoned, check it out before sending people in. I know the idea of seemingly endless MRE’s, Medications, Guns, and ammo seems like a dream come true, but these places will most likely be infested.

If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

Sneak around. Don’t attack zombies or people unless you absolutely have to.

Try going to Military academies. Most times, the cadets will be called to become a line of defense for the nearest city, town, etc. They should still have plenty of guns, ammo, food, and gear that can aid you, along with the bonus of most of them having tall walls.

Try not to use riot gear. I’m not saying don’t, but limit your usage of it, especially if where you’re located is hot. The gear, while extremely beneficial on terms of safety, makes you slower, less articulate, and you will overheat fast.

Black clothing attracts the sun, white reflects it.

This isnt a movie. You aren’t going to waltz around in booty shorts and tank tops and look all sexy while you survive. The first time you stick your arm out first as your turn a corner a zombie will grab you and take a bite out of your uncovered arm. Same goes for you, guys. Wear a belt, don’t sag your jeans. You’ll trip. Don’t wear anything that leaves you revealed to snappy jaws or wandering hands.

Cut your hair short, dont wear loose clothing, and dont wear jewelry. You will get snagged or grabbed, then boom, game over.

If you find a multitude of supplies, don’t take it all. Someone else may need something too.

Don’t trust little kids right off the bat, they could be being used as bait.

You aren’t gonna have a curvy, model body, sorry to disappoint women out there. You’re mostly likely gonna look like an anorexic person, due to your lack of constant food supply.

You can go 3 days without water, and 3 weeks without food.

Stay away from carbs, they only give short busts of energy.

After roughly 72 hours without sleep, you will begin to hallucinate. Try to catch a few hours whenever you can.

Stay away from densely populated areas, including the suburbs, sixties, large towns, and highways. Smaller towns and isolated shops/gas stations should be on the safer side.

Your car will need work, and will probably need its oil changed. While it’s still working, that is.

Crotch shots work for women just as much as they do for men.

If hitting a deer or raccoon messes up your car, imagine the damage hitting a full grown zombie or human will do.

belt yourself into a tree. It’s not comfortable, but you won’t be zombie bait. On that note, try to conceal yourself in branches so wandering zombies or people dont group around your tree for a surprise party when you wake up.

!!!A HUMAN BITE IS JUST AS DEADLY AS A ZOMBIE BITE!!!

Head wounds bleed more than any other small wounds.

Don’t let your wounds get infected. It will mostly likely kill you.

People are worse than the undead. They can think, and plan ahead. They can do coordinated attacks, and they can trick you if you let your guard down. Remember, Trust no one, suspect everyone.

Sincerely, a 19 year old girl who is obsessed with zombie movies/shows and survival.

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needtochangemyname · 9 months

Text

In Dreams

By: @m-arnie-xx (m_arnie)

In collaboration with: @fearlessinger (eleu)

Main inspiration: https://fearlessinger.tumblr.com/post/685990497282621440/who-wants-to-hear-a-conspiracy-theory-you-guys

Secondary inspiration (if you can spot which part, you get a gold star ⭐️): https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778300

——————

Zoe Nightshade did not get demigod dreams.

She knew, of course, about the recent (for her) development in the powers of those good-for-nothing half-bloods, that granted them the ability to glean bits and pieces of useful information for wars or quests every time they slipped into Morpheus’ realm. Scenes from the past and present and prophetic hints of the future alike, even in her Lady’s hunt, though more uncommon, there were cases of young Hunters knowing information they could not have possibly found out in regular ways, and tossing out a casual “I saw it in a dream” when asked how.

Still, Zoe was not a demigod, thank you very much.

And therefore, Zoe Nightshade did not get demigod dreams… until she did.

For two whole weeks now, every time she closed her eyes, allowed her mind and body to relax after an adrenaline filled hunt, Zoe found herself standing at the base of Mount Othyrs, looking up to where the mountain’s peak should have been, if only there wasn’t a storm of black clouds swirling around the whole place, thick plumes of… clouds? smoke? …billowing up towards the sky, blocking the sun’s rays.

That was the extent of it. Nothing more, and nothing less. She would have been almost inclined to dismiss the dreams all together, ignore them and write the whole thing off as her brain suddenly becoming fixated on the mountain for reasons that eluded her, if it hadn’t been for two things:

One: the persistent frequency of the dreams.

Two: the sort of… heaviness that would settle over her every time she stood there, staring up at the mountain with an annoyance that grew as the days passed.

Why am I seeing this? she would think.

And that presence, that heavy blanket of something, would settle over her like a warning.

Pay attention, it seemed to say, if an oddly-familiar presence could speak that was. Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention.

——

The night after Lady Artemis left her Hunters at Camp Half-Blood, the dream changed.

It started off the same way it did every night — base of the mountain, black clouds, pay attention — but then something shifted: Zoe became unfixed from where she stood, rooted to the ground, and something began to pull her up the mountain, closer and closer towards the smoke-storm.

And there, between the clouds, a silvery glow. A shape. A… figure? Zoe squinted. Yes, a figure shining silver with an almost divine glow.

No, not almost.

It was kneeling. Lady Artemis was kneeling.

And with a growing suspicion that was slowly sinking in her stomach, Zoe realised. Her lady must be in trouble, and that was why Zoe had been getting all these dreams.

Lady Artemis was in trouble, and it was up to Zoe and the other hunters to save her, even if it cost them their lives.

Above where she stood, the black clouds parted slightly to let a single beam of sunlight shine down upon her like a spotlight. Almost as if the sun itself was confirming her guess.

Almost as if Lord Apollo himself was confirming her guess.

——

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo. He was too arrogant, too vain, and flirted with her and her fellow hunters incessantly. He always appeared in their camp at the most inconvenient times, offering archery tips that no one wanted and being a persistent source of annoyance to Lady Artemis near constantly.

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but she did not hate him either. He was too arrogant, but any time a Hunter was injured beyond Lady Artemis’ own powers of healing, it was Lord Apollo who she would call for, and who’d always come no matter what. He was too vain, but Dorothy had confided in her once, while they tracked a monster through the woods, how her father visited the dreams of her and her siblings at least a couple times per month, something practically unheard of for a godly parent, according to Lady Artemis’ many rants on the subject.

Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but she never forgot that it was Dorothy who’d been the first Hunter to develop the ability to glean useful information from her dreams, saving a group of Hunters from a surprise monster attack, even if they had written it off as latent prophecy powers inherited from Lord Apollo at the time.

…Sometimes, when Zoe asked a Hunter how they knew something they couldn’t have possibly found out by themselves, and they told her about their dream, she would look up at the sun, and she would wonder…)

——

‘Sun West Line’ was a bit on the nose, but Zoe wasn’t going to start complaining about the free transportation any time soon.

Boarding the freight train, she headed up to the top deck of cars, as far away from Thalia Grace, the satyr, and the boy as possible. Bianca followed behind, and they found a leather-seat Lexus to settle down in for the night; the younger Hunter fell asleep almost immediately, the earlier fight against the skeletons clearly having taken a lot out of her, and Zoe followed suit not long after.

For the first time in over two weeks, however, Zoe did not slip into Morpheus’ realm to be met with the sight of Mount Othyrs.

Instead, she found herself somewhere in the Yellowstone National Park, standing in the middle of an empty clearing. A million stars shone overhead. A cool breeze rustled through the branches of the pinus contora that surrounded her, and lifted a few dead leaves off the ground to swirl around Zoe herself.

“I thought you might be more comfortable here,” a voice said behind her. Zoe stiffened. She knew that melodic, honey-sweet voice. “As opposed to my palace on Olympus, or an urban coffee shop.”

Zoe did not turn.

“Lord Apollo.” It was not a question. “Why hast thou brought me here?”

“Artemis.”

From her peripherals, Zoe saw Lord Apollo step beside her, hands in pockets and staring straight ahead. She turned her head ever so slightly to get a better look at his face. His eyes flicked towards her, then up to the night sky.

“Lady Artemis is on Mount Othyrs, isn’t she?” asked Zoe. “Wherever that might now be located in America. My fath-” she stopped, then shook her head. “Atlas has taken my Lady, kidnapped her.”

Apollo’s jaw tightened. “Yes. Atlas has taken Artemis.” He turned to face Zoe entirely, and continued, “She has been one of the most outspoken against my father’s decision to ignore the obvious war looming on the horizon, so no doubt it is Atlas’ plan to keep Artemis until after the Solstice has passed. By that point, the vote will have gone in both Atlas and Zeus’ favour, and we gods will not be allowed to help against any attacks. You see, then, why Atlas would want to take her.”

“Thou could simply disobey Lord Zeus’ orders,” Zoe pointed out, but Apollo shook his head.

“No, we can’t. You know that Zoe. You know I can’t.”

A second passed in silence. Two. Three.

Zoe turned to face Apollo. “I swear on the River Styx that I will rescue Lady Artemis,” she promised. “And if I must die to do so, then so be it.”

Above them, the sky rumbled. The solemn weight of her promise draped itself over Zoe like one of Hephaestus’ nets – unbreakable, inescapable, indestructible. She shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Apollo warned. “Oaths made on the Styx are bind-.”

Zoe interrupted him, saying: “Atlas is going to kill me.” Once more, it was not a question. “My father… I shall perish by his hand.”

“Zoe…”

Apollo made to reach his hands forward, perhaps to hug and comfort her, or maybe in an attempt to physically block the words she had spoken from ever reaching him. Then, he seemed to think better of it and withdrew his hands back to his pockets.

“Thou is the god of truth. Do not lie to me.”

“You would order a god around?”

“Please, I walked this Earth long before thou was born.”

Apollo closed his eyes.

“Zoe…” he said again, and there was a note in the harmony of his voice that sounded almost like pleading.

“Apollo…”

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo. He was too arrogant, too vain, and flirted with her and her fellow hunters incessantly. He always appeared in their camp at the most inconvenient times, offering archery tips no one wanted and being a persistent source of annoyance to Lady Artemis near constantly.)

“What would you have me say?”

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but she did not hate him either.)

“The truth.” Zoe said. “Thou is also the god of prophecy. Surely thou must know.”

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but she never forgot that it was Dorothy who’d been the first Hunter to develop the ability to glean useful information from her dreams.)

“Yes,” Apollo said at last.

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but when Dorothy died, and Lady Artemis had broken the news to her brother, Zoe had seen the devastation flood his face. )

“It is you that the prophecy speaks of.”

(Had heard him sob that he should have done more, should have warned his daughter earlier.)

For a moment, Apollo seemed at a loss for words. Zoe wondered how many others he had seen die before their death, known their fate long before they passed and been powerless to stop it. She wondered if Apollo ever regretted making prophecy one of his domains, the day he slew Python and claimed Delphi for his own.

(And that… that was when Zoe began to wonder.)

Apollo whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Zoe breathed in. Breathed out. Breathed in again, and nodded slowly.

“Okay.”

Apollo opened his eyes. “Okay? That’s it?”

“I swore on the Styx that I would do anything to rescue my Lady, even if anything means dying. If this is my fate, then so be it.”

Apollo did not seem to understand her calm acceptance, or maybe he did, but did not want to admit as such. He told her: “I would have wished to change your fate if it was in my power.”

Zoe frowned. “Why? We are not friends.”

“You are my sister’s closest companion. Her chosen Lieutenant of the Hunt.” Apollo’s eyes made contact with Zoe’s. “I could not have picked a better person to lead the search for Artemis, but that does not mean I am not sorry you will die for it.”

And with that, Zoe received the final confirmation of her suspicions from all those years ago.

(Zoe did not like Lord Apollo, but she could never hate someone who risked their father’s wrath to give Hunters and demigods alike a chance against the enemies they faced because of their parent or patronage.)

“Does my Lady know that it is you who has been sending prophetic dreams to help demigods and Hunters in their quests and battles?”

A flicker of surprise passed over Apollo’s face, but then, for the first time since their conversation began, he smiled. “I should have guessed that it would be you who would first discover my little secret,” he said. “And no, she doesn’t.”

“Why not?” Zoe said, offence on her Lady’s behalf flaring up inside her. “Do you not trust even your own twin sister?”

It was Apollo’s turn to look offended. “Of course I do. But what I do goes against the Ancient Laws. If word got out to the others…” he paused, then shook his head. “No, it’s better this way. Let them all remain oblivious.”

“Why?” Zoe was confused, not that she would admit it outloud. Gods did not go out of their way to help demigods. It was a fact, a truth, ingrained in the stone of millenia’s worth of dead children. Apollo may have claimed all his children the second they reached Camp Half-Blood or joined the Hunt, but this was bigger than that.

“Why what?” asked Apollo.

“Why hast thou send such dreams? Why risk the wrath of Ze-”

“Don’t, Zoe. Names have power, remember? Be careful whose you speak.”

“Of your father then. It is still the same question whatever name I say.”

Apollo took a moment to consider her question. Since, as far as she knew, Zoe was the only person, except perhaps his children, to know that it was Apollo behind the dreams, she doubted anyone had asked him this question before now. Finally, the god said slowly:

“I am the protector of youth. Once, I set up Camp Half-Blood to be a safe haven, but now it is out of my control. I cannot interfere with quests without risking the wrath and punishment that my father might bring down upon those I helped. But I am also the god of prophecy and knowledge. This, at least, I can do.”

Zoe digested this slowly. She wondered how it must feel to be a god, to have unimaginable power, and to be powerless to use it.

(Once, Zoe had not liked Apollo. Now, all she felt was pity.)

“Thou hast not made a single haiku since we have begun to converse,” Zoe noted.

“I thought you didn’t like them,” said Apollo. “I can compose one if you want.”

Hurriedly, Zoe reassured him, “There is no need. I was not complaining about their absence.”

Apollo chuckled. “Yeah, fair enough.”

There was a pause. In the distance, the first rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon, signalling the dawn of a new day, even though it felt like Zoe had only been talking to Apollo for an hour or so. And even though it was only the two of them in the forest, Zoe could have sworn she could hear the sound of footsteps approaching, quiet, for the person was still far away, but harsh, as if they were walking not on mossy grass, but on a metal floor.

“You have to go now,” Apollo said. “Someone comes to speak to you. It is almost daytime.”

A shiver ran down Zoe’s spine. She turned her head away to face the sunrise. Somehow, inexplicably, she knew that it would be the last one she would see. The Winter Solstice was not until tomorrow, but one way or another, everything would end today.

“Apollo…” Zoe began. The god looked questioningly at her. She stopped, unsure if she wanted to know the answer, but Zoe Nightshade was not a Hunter of Artemis for nothing. She asked, “How will I die?”

A sigh. “Honestly? I don’t know. Even as the god of prophecy, there are some things clouded from me. The location of Mount Othrys, for starters. How you will die, too, is something the Fates have not allowed me to see.”

Zoe tried not to feel disappointed. Maybe it was better this way, not knowing how she would die in advance. It was a dangerous thing to know the future, after all.

“I can tell you one thing though,” Apollo said. Zoe turned to face him again. “My sister will put you in the stars after you die. She will not forget you. You gave up your immortality for Heracles, but Artemis will immortalise you in another way.” He looked at her with uncertainty. “Does that help? Maybe not. Music, art, and poems I can do, but comforting people is not my forte.”

“I think thou hast done a good job.” Above them, the sun’s rays hit the leaves of the trees they stood beneath, illuminating the leaves in all shades of red, orange, and brown. The footsteps grew louder. “But thou is right. I must go. I must keep my promise.”

“You are far braver than I could ever be,” Apollo admitted candidly. “I could never go to my death so easily.”

Zoe shrugged elegantly. “I would die if it meant saving my Lady. For me, it is an easy choice to make.”

Something like understanding shone in Apollo’s eyes.

“Goodbye Zoe,” he said.

“Farewell,” she replied.

He placed a hand on her forehead, and at the same time, the scenery around them began to fade away. Zoe caught her last glimpse of Yellowstone National Park, and her Lady’s twin, Apollo, standing there in the centre of it all, before she was in the Lexus once more, sat in the front seat with her head resting against the window.

——

As a constellation, Zoe could watch over those down below with ease.

She watched as her fellow questers accompanied Lady Artemis to Olympus, as the gods voted against killing Perseus, and Thalia became the new Lieutenant of the Hunt (a fine choice: Thalia would do well in her new role, and from the stars above, Zoe wished her good luck in it).

She watched the following years leading up to Kronos’ defeat, the Battle of the Labyrinth and a year later, the Battle of Manhattan.

She watched as Hera put Perseus and Jason (Thalia’s brother!) to sleep, and took their memories; she watched the rise of the giants, their defeat, and the fall of Gaea.

She watched as Lord Apollo was blamed for the war, drained of his immortality and powers, and sent down to Earth as punishment.

She watched as his children were kidnapped, as he rescued them, and as Meg betrayed him. She watched as Nero was revealed to be the force behind it all, and then Commodus, and then Caligula.

She watched Jason Grace die. She watched her Lady save Apollo from a fate worse than death. She watched as Reyna Ramirez-Arellano was sworn into the Hunt, and as Apollo and Meg left to travel back across the United States of America to confront Nero (and for Apollo, Python) in one last, final battle.

The night before the pair reached Washington, Apollo took first watch. He often did that, Zoe had noticed, and then conveniently ‘forgot’ to wake Meg up until long after the four hours they had agreed per shift had passed. Considering they had a digital clock on the truck’s display board, she highly doubted this was accidental.

The former god rested his head against the side window of the truck. From his pocket, he pulled out an art gallery postcard and began to trace the outline of the figures on it softly. Zoe remembered Apollo picking it up to look after he and Meg had been chased into an art gallery by a manticore; after defeating it with the power of a dozen arrows, a rose bush, and some 12th century pottery, they had decided to take a break from driving to look around for a few hours.

Zoe knew what picture was on that postcard.

She knew it was of a painting that depicted Apollo’s triumph over Python all those years ago.

“Oh us,” Apollo murmured. “How am I ever to do it? How could I? I am mortal. Curse you father, Python is bigger than your punishment. If I fail…”

His voice broke. Shaking fingers tucked the postcard away again. Apollo twisted in his seat to look at Meg as she slept, then raised his head upwards.

“Zoe.” A jolt went down Zoe’s non-existent spine. “I know you can’t hear me right now, but I just wanted to tell you that I understand now. Your acceptance of your death, I get it.”

Unable to reply, all Zoe could do was watch in silence; Apollo resumed his original position in his seat and stared out into the dark of the night.

Hours passed.

Eventually, Meg McCaffrey woke. Too used to Apollo’s forgetful tendencies, she did not bother to protest the extra four hours of sleep she had been given. Instead, she grabbed a granola bar out of the glove box and began to take bites out of it, in between the quiet conversation Apollo struck up with her.

Zoe had no desire to eavesdrop on them, so she took the moment to check up on Apollo’s kids back at Camp Half-Blood, as she had been doing for the past few months. She did not know why she felt such a desire to do so – after all, even if Zoe did see something bad happening to one of them, she would not have been able to do anything – but she did as such anyway. By the time she had assured herself they were all safe, tucked away safely in Cabin Seven and fast asleep, and looked back at where Reyna’s old pickup truck was parked, Apollo too was in Hypnos’ realm.

And as she looked down at him, Zoe came to a decision she had been mulling over for weeks now. She was going to speak to Apollo, just as he had, three and a half years ago.

Zoe was no goddess of dreams, but Apollo was not the god of them either, and he was behind the ‘standard demigod ability’ that saved so many lives. Dreams were a power all immortals shared, and once, Zoe had been a Hesperide, the daughter of the Titan Atlas. Even now, Artemis had placed her soul in the stars, immortalising her forever, albeit in a different way.

Trees and rocks began to form around Zoe as she concentrated hard. Mossy grass grew from nothing beneath her feet, and once more, she found herself standing in the Yellowstone National Park, this time with Apollo standing opposite her, not behind her, and with a confused expression adorning his face.

“Wha- what?” he muttered. “This is Yellowstone, but-”

He noticed Zoe. All the tension seemed to drain out of his body, only to be replaced by a new apprehension.

“Zoe Nightshade.” It was not a question. “What am I doing here? Did… did you bring me here?”

A strong sense of deja-vu washed over Zoe, and it was a couple of seconds before she had recovered enough to say: “Yes. It was I.”

“Why? How? You’re dead.”

Really, Zoe thought sardonically, I had no idea.

“Thou art not the only person in this world who can speak to people in dreams,” was what she said instead. “As for why… I am not sure. I suppose I just wanted to be able to reply to thee when thou talks to me.”

Apollo’s face took on a pinkish tinge. “You heard me.”

“I have been watching thee throughout thy quest. Of course I did.”

This did not seem to help. “Oh,” said Apollo.

“Thou has not been the only one I have observed though,” Zoe said, by way of reassurance. “I watch over the Hunt too, and thy children.”

Apollo blinked in shock. “My children?” He took several steps forwards, pressing Zoe for answers urgently. “How are they? Will? Austin? Kayla? Are they okay? What-”

“They are all fine. Three more of thy children have made it to Camp Half-Blood too – Yan, Gracie, and Jerry, I believe are their names.”

Relieved by Zoe’s words, but now evidently worried for a different reason, Apollo asked, “Have they been claimed yet? I enchanted the borders of Camp Half-Blood to do so as soon as a child of mine crossed over but…”

“Yes, they have all been claimed. It did cause a debate as to how exactly they were, since thou art currently a mortal, but they all reside in Cabin Seven and are sleeping there peacefully as we speak.”

“Good,” Apollo murmured. “Good. I wouldn’t want them to have to sleep on the floor of the Hermes cabin, or think I didn’t care.”

“I’m sure they know thou cares,” Zoe said; she asked: “How art thou?”

Apollo laughed brittlely. “Good, awful, scared, and restless with anticipation all at once. Nero draws closer every day, and P- him too, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to defeat them. And even after that, after everything, my father might not deign to give me back my immortality, and everything will have been for nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Zoe said quietly. “Thou hast not only fought this war to regain thy godhood, not for a long time. Perhaps never.”

“You give me far too much credit, Zoe.”

“No, I do not.”

They stood in silence for a while. Apollo seemed to have realised something, and was trying to bring himself to voice it with some difficulty, so Zoe searched for her own constellation in the night sky above him to give some privacy while she waited.

“Am I going to die?”

The question was quiet, barely a whisper. Rushed, as if Apollo wanted to get the words out as quickly as possible. For all his earlier declaration that he understood Zoe’s calm acceptance of her upcoming death, the possibility of his own seemed to scare him still, which Zoe understood completely.

She may have accepted her death if it meant her Lady’s rescue, but she had not gone to it without fear.

Zoe asked, “What do you mean?”

“Am I going to die?” repeated Apollo. “Is that why you’ve called me here? When I spoke to you last time, it was to warn you of your own upcoming death.”

“I don’t know.”

“Zoe please…” Before, Zoe had only heard Apollo beg once, to ask her to stop questioning him if she would be the one to perish as the prophecy foretold. She had heard him twice now. “If I am going to die, I want…” Apollo’s voice broke. He closed his eyes. Breathed in, breathed out. Opened them again. “I want to know.”

“Truly, Lord Apollo, I do not know. That was not why I called thee here.”

Apollo tried for a smile, though it came out more like a grimace. “Please, call me Apollo. We are long beyond titles like ‘Lord’.”

“Apollo then. But truly, I do not know. I am sorry,” she said apologetically. “Prophecy is not within my power.”

“Currently, it’s not within anyone except Python’s,” Apollo pointed out dryly.

Zoe bit her lip, the question that had been at the back of her mind, ever since Apollo had declared to his son Trophonius that he would die to save Meg McCaffrey, burning more fiercely than ever. She debated with herself whether or not to ask for a few seconds, before deciding that she had nothing to lose from doing so.

She asked: “Would thee mind?”

“What?”

“If thou was fated to die, never to reascend to Olympus, would thee mind?”

“Of course I would mind,” said Apollo, a vaguely offended look adorning his face.

“But if it meant the downfall of Nero,” Zoe pressed. She wasn’t quite sure why the answer meant so much to her, but still she pressed on. “Or if it meant the downfall of Python, would thou accept thy death and make thy peace with it?”

(The day Jason Grace died, to give his friends a chance at escape, Apollo stabbed himself in the chest with the intention of death.)

“Yes.” Apollo said, without a shred of uncertainty. “Yes, I would die if my death brought down Nero or Python with me.” He paused, then chuckled grimly. “Oh us, I’ve really changed a lot, haven’t I?”

(And maybe he had known that Medea would heal him, for that was what the desperate plan hinged on in the first place, but that was never really the point, was it?)

“No. I don’t think thou hast changed at all.”

“What do you mean?” Apollo frowned.

Zoe thought of the way Apollo had taken in Chiron as a baby and raised him like a son. She thought of the story Lady Artemis had told her once of the day she and her brother had woken to discover they were the new celestial gods – in her Lady, the mortals saw protection, a guiding light through the darkness of the night; in Apollo, they saw brilliance, gold and warm and shining. She thought of Anius(1), and Asclepius, and Dorothy. She remembered the way Apollo had been so ready and willing to give his life to save his kids, only a mere couple of hours after death had become a much more real possibility for him.

“I think that Phoebus is a very fitting epithet for thee,” she said at last. “The shining one. The mortals began to associate thou with the sun for a reason. Thou art annoyingly shiny, overbearingly bright, but warm.” Zoe did not know what she was saying, or why she felt the need to reassure Apollo that he was not as bad as he thought he was, but she had known him for over three millennia now. She may have disliked her Lady’s twin, but it was never because he was cruel or heartless. Zoe did not want him to die. “Thou burns hot enough to scorch, but would never hurt thy friends with thy heat.”

By the end of Zoe’s small speech, Apollo looked utterly dumbstruck. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked. “You hate me, but now you’re saying I’m… what did you call me? Warm? Yes, that was it. What’s changed?”

Zoe said simply, “I never hated thee. I did not like thee, but I have never hated thee.”

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“I did not like thee because thou… hits on me and my fellow Hunters. I believe that is the modern phrase for it, no? Hits on, flirts with, even after we told thee it is unwanted. And,” Zoe added on, a little defensive now, “thine mere presence is of great annoyance to my Lady, with thine awful haikus and all. On her behalf, too, I do not like you.”

Apollo ignored the second part, with only a stiffening of his shoulders to even show that he’d heard, to guiltily focus on the first. He opened his mouth, at a loss for the right words, before settling with a simple: “I’m sorry.” He met Zoe’s steady gaze unflinchingly. “Truly, I am. I… it was wrong of me. I can see that now. And if I survive this, I promise you now, I will apologise to your fellow Hunters too, and do my utmost best to make it up to them as best as I can.”

Once, Zoe would not have accepted such an apology and been done with the matter. Now, she just nodded.

All of a sudden, she felt very old and very tired.

“I accept thine apology. And I rescind what I said earlier about thine mere presence being only an annoyance to my Lady. It was unfair and untrue. Most of the time thou is a great irritation, yes, but I have not just been watching over Meg and thee. I have seen the way my Lady has worried over thee these past few months. Thou is not just an annoyance to her.”

Apollo smiled gratefully. The stiffness in his shoulders relaxed. “Thank you Zoe. I appreciate your words.”

“Thou had better not die though.” Zoe threatened. “If thou does, I swear I will come down from Ouranos myself to resurrect thee and kill thee all over again. Thy death would break my Lady.”

“Would that not be a little counterproductive? Apollo laughed. “To kill me for the crime of dying in the first place.” After a few moments however, he sobered up. “You know I can’t promise you my survival,” he said, “but I promise that I will try. I will try my hardest to return to my sister. I swear it.”

Despite everything, despite what they were discussing, a smile tugged at the corners of Zoe’s mouth. “Thou do not want to swear thy promise on the River Styx? Have I, by mistake, summoned the wrong Apollo?”

“What?” Apollo frowned, then his expression cleared with a stunned laugh. “You’re… you’re joking. That was a joke.” He shook his head. “Zoe Nightshade teasing me? I really must be dreaming.”

“Thou is a massive hypocrite by the way. I distinctly remember thou telling me that to swear on the Styx is a dangerous thing, did thou not?”

Apollo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, well, I…” He trailed off sheepishly. “Oops?”

(Zoe did not like Apollo.)

She smiled at Apollo, which, for her, was the equivalent of a full belly laugh. He returned the smile with one of his own. In the distance, the first rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon.

(But in another life, they could have been friends.)

Zoe could tell the moment Apollo noticed, because it was then that something heavy settled between them. Their smiles faded, the almost camaraderie between them was replaced once more with a cordial, but more distant, relationship, and Zoe knew what she had to do.

“I have to go now,” she said. “And thou must wake. It is almost daytime.”

For a moment, fear flickered across Apollo’s visage.

Then, it was replaced with the face of someone who knows his fate, accepts it, and goes to it with courage and resolution.

(It was replaced by the face of a real hero.)

Apollo tentatively reached out and placed a hand on Zoe’s upper arm. With her opposite hand, Zoe reached over to cover his with hers.

“Goodbye Zoe,” Apollo said. “I never got to say so before, properly, but it seems I have been given another chance. Farewell my friend.”

Slowly, Zoe removed Apollo’s hand from her arm. She let it go, and his hand fell to his side.

“Goodbye Apollo,” she said.

“If it had been in my power, I really would have changed your fate, you know. You didn’t deserve to die.”

“I know.” Zoe gave him one last half-smile, and this time there was a hint of melancholy in it. “I know you would have.”

Apollo closed his eyes. “I am ready now,” he said. “I am ready to wake up.”

Zoe placed a hand on his forehead. “Then I bid you farewell, my friend…”

The figure of Apollo began to shimmer, dissolving like dust into the night air, a mirror echo of Zoe all those years before.

“…and good luck.”

——

Far down below, in the driver’s seat of an old pickup truck two inches away from breaking to bits, Lester Papadopoulos began to stir.

The morning sun began to stream through the windows; illuminated by the light, his hair looked as if it were spun from shining gold.

———————

Author’s note:

So, what do you think? 5818 words including title and footnote, it’s one of the longest things I think I’ve ever written, both in length and in time spent between the start and finish, which is technically over three weeks (in my defence, I was on a no-phones summer camp and then my Silver DofE expedition for like, half of that time). I’ve truly loved being a part of this collab, and would like to that this moment to thank Tsari most sincerely for organising the whole thing. Can’t wait to see every else’s submissions! (Only 23 hours, as of right now, to go!)

(1) For those unfamiliar with the myth, Anius was the son Apollo had with Hemithea (Emmie)’s sister, Rhoeo. After his mother abandoned him soon after birth, Apollo raised Anius himself. He also later became King of Delos, a position he no doubt secured thanks to his dad! I figured that Zoe would be more likely to know this particular story, considering Anius’ familial link to Hemithea, compared to another one of Apollo’s children, which is why she thinks of him second as an example of Apollo caring for others (even when he was a god), after Chiron.

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needtochangemyname · 11 months

Text

Lying (Next) To You (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for violence + language Warnings: Blood-drinking/general vampiric shenanigans Summary: There is no goal other than escape. You want out of this castle, no matter what you have to do, no matter the consequences. At first, the solution seems to lie with one of the very women you want to get away from. But what happens when you find yourself genuinely caring for her? Length: 5,934 words

Merely surviving had never been your intention. From day one in this foul place, this unholy castle, you had strived to escape. No matter what, you refused to allow such dismal grounds to be your grave. But leaving wouldn’t be as simple as walking out an unlocked door. It required manipulation, agility, and the willingness to screw over anyone who got in your way. Even those who you would have once called friends, or the closest thing you had to that among the servants. Was that something you were willing to do? Absolutely, without a shred of doubt in your mind. Someday, somehow, regardless of what it took, you’d get out and never look back. For now, though, all you can do is scheme…

—————————

Three targets, each incredibly difficult to get your hands on, each presenting their own unique challenges. Which would be easiest to charm? You were still debating that answer.

First was Bela: The eldest, most responsible, forced to be the “role model” for her sisters. A bookworm (a trait the two of you shared) who spent a fair amount of her freetime in the library. While not overtly cruel, she was still rather violent, especially in cases where she felt her family had been insulted. However, there were whispers that she had a secret weakness: Anxiety. None had caught her in the open throes of an attack and lived to tell the tale. But she had been overheard, more than once, quiet cries or shaking breaths. Trying to talk to her during one of these occasions could lead to gaining her affection- if you managed to do what no other had been capable of doing, that is.

Second was Daniela: The youngest, most excitable, eager to please and desperate to be pleased. Easily interacted with more maidens than either of her sisters, though not always in a good way. Getting her attention could mean getting pulled into her room in the middle of the night, for some “fun”, or it could mean getting drained of all of your blood. Sometimes she did one after the other. Like Bela, she was a bookworm, though she preferred romance novels as opposed to her older sister’s educational texts. As for her weakness? To you, Daniela seemed to be the definition of “undiagnosed ADHD”. Less exploitable for sympathy than her sister, but possibly useful in helping you trick her. At the end of the day, the largest concern with her was her inconsistent behavior, her tendency to flip moods at the drop of a hat- and a drop of the hat with her could feel a helluva lot like a drop of an axe (onto your neck).

Then came the third… the one you didn’t think was worth the risk, whatsoever: Cassandra. Middle child and acting just like it, she was hungry for her mother’s approval, attention, and respect most of all. Bloodthirsty as could be, with a mean streak eight kilometers wide, the truest monster you had ever met. Even her fondness for the arts manifested in malevolent ways. Supposedly, she painted in blood, and made sculptures from the bones of her victims, displayed proudly in her room as trophies. What could you possibly do to earn her affection? What could you ever be to her, other than a plaything or mid-afternoon snack?... Nothing, you assumed, and so you figured you might as well remove her from your list. Somehow you’d have to make do with one of her sisters. As for which one?... You decided to let fate decide, and go for whomever you found yourself with an opportunity to court.

—————————

Free time was a rare commodity in Castle Dimitrescu. While every servant did technically get one day off every week, it wasn’t uncommon to end up helping with something unexpected, even if one tried to hide away in the private quarters. For you, it was an opportune time to try and get closer to your targets. So far three weeks had passed since your “decision” to focus on Bela and Daniela, without a single interaction with either of them. Still, hope held fast in your chest, as you made haste towards the library. On this free day you intended to read as much as possible. ‘Twas a two-pronged goal: First, you would increase your chances of running into one of your preferred employers. Secondly, you could possibly learn something through what content you consumed, perhaps to be utilized in later conversations.

Or such was the hope. In truth, you did not make it to the library, nor even anywhere close. A quarter of the way there you were interrupted by an ever-dreaded noise; buzzing echoed throughout the hallway, first far off, but getting closer with every second. There was a particular ferocity to the vibrations that you knew meant danger was approaching. According to the other maidens, this was a distinction that everyone learned over time, assuming that they survived long enough. The smart thing would have been to duck away into an adjacent room in the hopes that whatever sister it was would ignore you. But your endgame weighed heavy on your mind, then forced your feet to the floor. For better or worse, you would be in the woman’s path, ready for whatever she may ask of you.

“You-” a voice snarled, as a hooded figure phased out of the swarm and into your vision. Her head was held high, eyes narrowed as they stared down at you, a snarl twisting her lips. Of course it was her. Cassandra Dimitrescu. The one daughter you didn’t want to encounter. Inside, part of you writhes in self deprecation, feeling as if you should have known better. How often did the other two buzz about so angrily?... Well, certainly a fair bit, but nowhere near as much as Cassandra. Fuck, you think, I’m probably doomed. “I’m hungry. Come here real quick,” Cassandra demands, beckoning you towards her with a single finger. In another life you would have blushed bright red at the sight. A life where she wasn’t a vampiric monster, that is.

Nonetheless, you are quick to obey, masking your anxiety as best as you can. Doing so gets much harder once your gaze meets Cassandra’s, and you see her lick her lips before smirking at you. As soon as you’re within her reach, she’s surging forward, grabbing you by your shoulders, then pivoting, pressing you hard against the wall. You can’t help but gasp at the sudden movements, which only widens her grin. Before you know it she’s running her tongue along your neck. Once more you gasp, this time softer, hating the way your body urges you to lean into her touch. Why couldn’t she simply get straight to the worst of it? Instead she takes her sweet time, slipping a finger beneath the collar of your shirt, slowly, carefully tugging it to the side. When she finally bites, it is terribly sudden. The pleasure comes before the pain, stronger than you would have expected, eliciting a sharp inhale from you that sounds more satisfied than you had intended. Even as a rush of pain follows, you can’t help the red that tints your cheeks.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” Cassandra asks, after licking away at your blood for a few moments, pulling back but not releasing you. Something in her eyes makes you need to respond.

“Y-yes, more than I’d like to admit,” you mumble, barely able to make eye contact. But she seems pleased by this, gently cupping your chin while she looks you over.

“Well then, if you survive… I might just have to drink from you again,” she whispers, before diving right back in towards your neck. This time her touch is far, far softer than before. It feels more like she’s kissing you rather than drinking from you. A strange, irritatingly familiar feeling springs in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t help but make more of those noises she seemed to enjoy so much. Hell, your eyes drift closed as you take in the surprisingly welcome sensation. When they reopen, however, you give a yelp of surprise, spotting a very awkwardly waiting servant. They were blushing, clearly not having expected to come upon this particular sight. Cassandra perks up at your shock, turning to follow your gaze, then giving an uncharacteristically resigned groan. “Damn it, Ava, is it urgent?” She asks, to which the servant gives a silent shrug. “I’ll be done in a minute. Now, where were we?”

Once more she resumes feeding, casting aside all traces of sweetness, sucking on your wound with reckless abandon. Behind her, Ava gives you a thumbs up before turning away. As embarrassing as the moment felt, you were grateful to xer, glad that xe seemed to recognize your desire for privacy. More than that… if xe hadn’t come along, would Cassandra have remembered to stop before your bloodloss became fatal? There was no guarantee either way. Yet xer intervention felt like a godsend, and you made a mental note to thank xer later. Soon enough Cassandra removes herself from you, pausing only to cup your chin for a moment, meeting your gaze with a smirk. Then she was turning away without another word, following Ava to some unknown destination.

A deep breath, then another, more frantic, the familiar sense of panic growing on the edges of your mind. Now that the feeding was over, you were left trembling with all the fear you had been so adamant about not showing before. How close to death had you come? How close were you now? Only feeling slightly more faint than you had earlier, it felt safe enough to assume you would be fine, if only physically. Inside your mind you were struggling with racing thought after racing thought. How the hell am I supposed to do this with either Bela or Daniela? You think, trying to breathe past the lump in your throat. And why did I have to enjoy that so much? They’re nothing more than means to an end, monsters undeserving of my kindness, of my joy. Your only comfort was the knowledge that this may very well have been the opportunity you had been waiting for; but only if you could shift your aim.

—————————

The difference was subtle, almost microscopic, to the point where it took you a full week to notice. But once you had? Everything felt different. You couldn’t spend more than three seconds in the same room as Cassandra without her eyes following you, watching your every move, sending a rush of both fear and excitement down your spine. Meeting her gaze only made her give the tiniest fraction of a smile. As soon as something (or someone) else caught her attention, however, you were forgotten in the blink of an eye. Yet it was nerve wracking nonetheless. This was roughly what you had hoped for, but you had underestimated the mental toll it would take on you. There was no way to tell whether Cassandra wanted violence, something softer, or her usual brand- a cruel mixture of both. Every second spent in her presence was a roll of the dice, a flip of a coin, either one weighted to put the odds against you.

But you persisted. Escape was not a dream, nor a fantasy, nor some far off cryptid. It was inevitable. Again and again you would swallow your fear until you reached your long-sought destination. No matter the cost, you think, no matter the consequences. Over time, that cost, those consequences, would grow. For now, it was a slice of your sanity. Next? More blood, it seemed.

“Casserole wants you to stop by her art studio,” the note said, cursive hand-writing ever-so-fancy and ever-so-difficult to read. Clearly from Ava, the mildly mysterious (but incredibly helpful) castle servant known for never speaking a word. From what you had gathered, xe was a confidant of sorts for the Dimitrescu family, trusted far more than the average worker. Alas, xe was loyal to the center of xer being, and was rumored to be impeccable at preventing escape attempts before they had even started. If you wanted out of this damn place, you knew you’d have to be careful around xer. Hopefully xe won’t interrupt this time, you think, before tucking the note away in your pocket.

Cassandra’s infamous studio wasn’t terribly far from your quarters, thankfully, though you weren’t even sure if you were supposed to arrive at a specific time. What if she wasn’t expecting you until later? Worse, what if she had been expecting you an hour ago? It’s a dangerous thought, one that could easily spiral into something far more drastic, and you try to reassure yourself, reminding yourself that Ava would have mentioned a time if it was important. In the end, you still found your heart racing as you stood outside the room in question. Pausing to take a deep breath, you center yourself, before raising a hand to knock. To your surprise, you get an answer before your hand even gets close to the door.

“Come in already,” Cassandra chimes from inside. Unsure of what terrible fate you were about to meet, you entered the room, somewhat reluctantly. Despite the myriad of unsavory rumors regarding the studio, there were no immediate signs of brutality. At the worst, the space was fairly messy, though not due to any, ahem, “misplaced” body parts. No, just an overflowing garbage bin, a few unfinished projects placed haphazardly wherever they’d fit, shards of glass in one corner, and tile floor splattered with a Pollock-esque layer of paint. In one word? Chaotic. Such was the type of environment that seemed to suit Cassandra best, the sort in which you imagined she would thrive. But you didn’t have time to examine anything as closely as you would have liked to. “Are you going to keep me waiting?”

“No, Lady Cassandra,” you reply, hurriedly, shaking your head to clear your thoughts. Then you’re quickly crossing the room, to what looks like a cross between a storage cabinet and a paint mixing station. In Cassandra’s hands, however, you find something less welcoming than a paintbrush: A needle and an empty blood bag. Well, you think, I guess I know why I’m here. At least there’s only one bag, right? “What do you require of me, my Lady?” While the answer was fairly obvious, you didn’t know the specific steps necessary, and it never hurt to be as polite as possible with the Dimitrescu family.

“Just sit down, roll your sleeves up, look pretty, and stay still. Try not to make any noises this time- as cute as they were last time, I have a headache,” Cassandra explains, gesturing towards the room’s only chair. Ignoring the way your cheeks heated up, you did as she asked, trying to get relatively comfortable. It was somewhat difficult to relax, considering who you were with. “Calm down, pet, I’m only going to hurt you a little. That’s more than I can say for most people who end up here.” Why did she have to use a nickname for you? Weren’t you already flushed enough without her teasing you further? Though your flustering does turn to confusion after a moment, as you wonder how she knew how afraid you were. You were under the impression that you were hiding it fairly well. Noticing your reaction, Cassandra rolls her eyes, before leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I can hear your heartbeat. Normally I’d find this… exciting. But my head hurts and I wanted to finish this damn painting yesterday. So take a deep breath, little pet, and let me take what I need from you.”

Of course she had to say it like that, and put herself so close to you. You’re pretty sure that your heart skips a few beats in response, though Cassandra doesn’t react beyond a hint of a smile, merely returning to her prep work. First step was cleaning your skin. Admittedly you hadn’t been sure if that step was necessary, seeing as the blood was (seemingly) for art as opposed to testing, but it didn’t exactly surprise you. Besides, there was a chance she’d drink the leftovers, right? Next she double-checked that the needle was properly connected to the blood bag, and that the latter was resting securely on a small stand. With that out of the way, it was time for her favorite part.

“Since your heartbeat has slowed down a little… I’ll let you whimper if you want to- but only once. Consider it a reward for good behavior,” Cassandra purrs with a familiar grin. One hand gently cups your chin, while her eyes look right in yours, just long enough to turn your cheeks bright red. The moment ends as quickly as it started. Before you know it she’s turned stoic again, feeling along your arm for a vein. This isn’t the first time you’ve had your blood drawn, but Cassandra takes no time at all to find the perfect spot, likely from a mix of practice and, well, her vampiric nature. It’s not long before she’s gently gripping your arm with one hand, briefly making eye contact before pushing the needle into your skin. Does it hurt? Hardly. Do you take a shaky inhale, hoping to please your employer, the closest to a whimper you were willing to give her? Oh, absolutely. And does she react? Oh, absolutely. Her eyes light up for a second as she bites her lower lip. There’s something else in her expression that you can’t quite read, however.

“Enjoying this, hmm?” You ask, smiling, voice soft in the hopes of not aggravating her headache. It’s a risk, and one that pays off more than you’d ever expect. Cassandra giggles a tad, eying you with the least mischievous smile you’ve ever seen from her. If not for the needle still in your arm, you might have found the moment charming, or even… romantic. But you pushed the thought away as soon as possible, reminding yourself of your one true goal: Escaping. This was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Even as Cassandra ever-so-gently removed the needle from your arm, even as she carefully placed a bandage over the entry-point, even as she gave you a nod of approval.

“This should last until the painting is done, at the very least. I might need you to make another ‘donation’ next week, though. Except, hmm… your blood is quite nice,” Cassandra says. Her tone is smooth, almost sultry, but her gaze is focused on her work as she starts mixing the blood with… something? You weren’t familiar with this particular artistic process, nor did you want to be. “Maybe I’ll set up a nice schedule for you. Once a month you can be my darling little muse, and once a month you can be a refreshing snack. I’ll even make sure that my sisters don’t do anything that might spoil our fun. Assuming you continue to prove entertaining, that is.” You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. In the end you settled for the former, chest thrumming with excitement as you felt yourself getting one step closer to your goal.

—————————

Three months pass by in an easy blur. Just as Cassandra had suggested, you find yourself in her company more often than before. Only twice a month does she take blood from you, for your own safety (which she pretends not to care about), but more and more you find her lounging around where you’re working, obviously by “pure coincidence”. Sometimes she even spoke to you! Teasing here and there, or asking you to do things that she normally did for herself, or scaring you just to hear you make one of your “lovely noises”. Honestly, you weren’t sure whether you were more surprised by how attached she had gotten to you, or by how quickly it had happened. Of course, you didn’t even know if she enjoyed your personality… or just your blood. Either way, you found yourself enjoying her presence more than you’d ever openly admit.

Eventually, when the benefits of your budding “friendship” became more clear, you started to enjoy it even more.

It was early in the morning, right when the castle residents tended to go to sleep, and when the night shift officially ended. Minutes prior you had been conversing quietly with Cassandra, dusting some shelves as you did. Now, with your duties done only slightly later than usual, you were making your way back to your quarters. Along the way you were caught off guard by the sound of distant crying. ‘Twas a sound you’d heard many times before, from many different maidens, but this time felt… different. An odd feeling of sympathy sparked in your chest, and you made the brash decision to approach the source of the noise. When you rounded that last corner, when you made eye contact with the trembling figure, you knew that your kindness could very well be the death of you. To think that you had once hoped for this encounter.

“Who’s there?” Bela Dimitrescu snarls through chattering teeth. She’s moving forward, phasing in and out of swarm mode, reaching a hand out to clutch at your throat. Well, you think, at least she’s stopped crying? More so out of being distracted, instead of feeling any comfort from your company. It’s not a terribly reassuring thought, but it’s soon replaced with a mental string of ???? as Bela pauses, grip loosening as she holds you up in the light. “You’re Cassandra’s new favorite. Damnit!” With that she drops you rather unceremoniously. Then she’s turning her back to you, sniffling before wiping the tears from her eyes. “Don’t tell anyone about this, or I won’t hesitate to string you up, no matter what my sister says. Now get lost.”

Except you can’t force yourself to move. There’s a small piece of you that remembers your original plan, another small part feels a twinge of sympathy, and a majority of your brain sees this as an opportunity. What was a little more risk?

“Would you like me to bring you some tea, Lady Bela?” You ask, attempting to keep your tone neutral, lest she think you were judging her. In response, she turns to look at you slowly, eyes narrowed, thinly veiled rage only outweighed by the remnants of her anxiety. Then she’s stalking forward with cautious, deliberate movements. For a moment she searches your eyes for any hints at your motive. Hoping to ease her worries, you elaborated on your offer, and the reasoning behind it. “I’ve read that holding something warm in your hands, like a mug of tea or coffee, relaxes the brain. I believe it had something to do with mimicking human touch?... Forgive me if I’m overstepping your boundaries, my Lady. I… I felt compelled to ask, to help in whatever way I can.”

“Oh?” Bela hums, the majority of the anger draining from her face. There’s a hint of genuine surprise behind her bright eyes. “Very well, if you say it might… help.” Before you can turn to leave, you hear her clear her throat, and say one last thing. “A little softer than I would have expected from a pet of Cassandra’s.” She certainly had a point. But you don’t bother responding, instead focusing on your self-given task. In the back of your mind, you wonder if you were really Cassandra’s “pet”, or if there was more to your dynamic. Why did you feel so weird about the idea of being a mere “distraction” to her?... Something to think about while you made that tea, you supposed.

—————————

When you assisted with serving lunch the next day, Bela refused to make eye contact, even as you set a plate in front of her, or when you refilled her wine glass. There was a stiffness in the room that you weren’t familiar with. For the most part, Cassandra is more welcoming, giving you a small nod when you meet her gaze. By the time the family is done eating and moves to leave, the sisters are grouping together to speak in hushed voices. While you clean up after them, you cannot help but wonder if they’re discussing the previous night, or if Bela was as adamant about keeping quiet as she had seemed. Regardless, you felt rather good about how the conversation had gone. Hopefully she’s feeling better, you think, surprising yourself. Not that it matters… unless she tells Cassandra, I suppose.

You don’t see her for the rest of the day. It’s a double-edged sword, in a way. On one hand, you find yourself missing her, unused to not interacting with her at all. On the other hand? All the sudden you’re realizing just how involved she’s become with you. Certainly that meant something? Progress towards your eventual goal of escaping? God, you sure hoped so. Thinking about the future, about your plans, lasts you the entire night, thoughts following you all the way into bed. Sleep feels a million years away, and you find yourself staring silently at the ceiling. Unmoving. Damn near unblinking. When there’s the sound of footsteps outside your room, you are more than welcome for the distraction.

“Wake up, little pet,” a voice calls, as your door opens, and someone quickly slips inside. Before you can even sit up, you feel them slide into the bed with you. “It’s too cold in my room. You’re much warmer, aren’t you?” Clearly your darling Cassandra come to entertain herself. Considering how late in the day it is, you feel like you should be upset, and yet you feel yourself daring to wrap your arms around her. For a moment she goes stiff, but she soon relaxes into your touch. “You’re getting so good at knowing what I want from you. Mmm, I think I’ve trained you well,” she teases, shifting onto her back so she can pull you onto her chest. Although you’ve been this close to her before, this is the first time you’ve realized just how cold her skin is. No wonder she wants to sleep with me, you think, blushing at your unintentional wording.

“Fuck, you’re freezing,” you mumble, curling up against her nonetheless. She’s laughing then, without any hint of her usual malice, and you can’t help but laugh with her. When had the two of you gotten so warm with each other? Why did it feel so natural? There’s anxiety gnawing at the base of your skull, threatening to build up into a headache, tugging you away from the softness of the moment. If Cassandra notices, she’s quicker to act than you would have expected. It feels safer to believe that her next actions are a coincidence. Feels… better, when you remember that you are playing her for cheap, that any friendliness is a mockery made for the most bitter of betrayals to come.

“That’s why I’m here, dear. Now hush, I need some rest. With how comfortable you are… I may even let you sleep in,” she teases, before pressing the gentlest kiss to the top of your head. Your throat dries up in response, blush overtaking your cheeks, and you are left unable to speak. The thundering of your heart seems to somehow lull your would-be lover to sleep, while you find yourself growing to love the contrast her chill provides. Somehow, someway, you end up sleeping more soundly than you have in years.

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Another month passes. No opportunities to escape, no grand moves to make in this 4D game of chess, no clever plans to entangle yourself in. Yet you find yourself content. Happy. The work keeps you as busy as ever, but Cassandra often steals you away for her own desires. When she goes to drink your blood, she does so gently, with many soft kisses leading into the big moment. Afterwards she cleans your wound herself, touches as light as a feather, eyes sparkling with unspoken affection. At night, you find her coming to you for warmth almost every day. At first she provides little more than teasing excuses. But in time, she becomes more open, even being so bold as to kiss you on the lips every time, greeting you with quiet “dear”s and “darling”s. It gets to the poin that you cannot sleep without her presence.

Day after day, you find it harder and harder to remember why you were doing this. Was it so bad to enjoy your time with her? Was it so bad to find yourself leaning into her touches, kissing her back, gleefully awaiting your nightly rendezvous with her? Sometimes the thoughts were overwhelming, guilt and shame alike dancing inside your chest. Those days were the hardest to get through. Somehow, again and again, you go to her for comfort. To the very source of your conflict. Every last feeling was driving you towards an inevitable point. A conclusion written in stone, one that had been decided from the very first time Cassandra dug her fangs into your neck.

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Screaming. Horrible, horrible screaming, somehow more pained than that of any maiden you had ever heard, echoing throughout the castle halls, achingly familiar in tone. You had never heard her scream before, and yet you knew that the sound came from Cassandra. Before you can even begin to process your realization, you are thundering through the corridor, towards the noise that rattled your mind so desperately. How could anything possibly hurt her? How often had you seen her push her siblings around, each of them taking hits that could break bones as if they were light shoves? As if the punches tickled? Horror overtakes your thoughts, imagination far worse than reality had any right to be.

When you at last reach your lover, you are frozen in your tracks, eyes wide as can be. There she is, howling with both rage and pain as someone repeatedly slams the butt of a rifle into her head. Behind the fighting duo is a sight you never thought you’d see: An open door. Wide open, enticing, leading straight into the world you had sought to rejoin. You want to leave. God, you want to leave so bad. This is what you have been waiting for- Cassandra has not even seen you yet, too busy grappling with her attacker, movements too slow to be normal. What was wrong? Why were her limbs such a strange color? Was that… frost on her clothes? Or… crystal? Your gaze flickers back and forth between her and the exit, as time seems to pause, memories of the past few months racing through your mind. Goddamnit, you think, this is what I want, isn’t it? Consequences be damned, right? I said I wouldn’t stop for anything.

And so you move, automatically, on autopilot, unable to think about anything other than what you treasured most: Cassandra. One moment you’re standing still in the foyer, the next you’re grabbing a poker from the fireplace. You’ve never done anything like this before, but the movements come naturally, as you surge towards the scrambling pair. In one swift motion you drive the metal rod into the skull of the intruder, hating the sound, hating the splatter of blood against your clothes, hating the feeling of resistance followed by a terrible, terrible give. But the man slumps almost immediately, allowing your girlfriend to shove him off of herself. Still unable to think coherently, you’re throwing yourself into her arms.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my god, I- I, fuck. Are you…? Fucking tell me that you’re okay, please,” you ramble, holding the dangerously cold body of your girlfriend close to you, refusing to let go. She’s crying, clinging to you as desperately as you cling to her. But she’s responding in the affirmative. Over and over, saying she’s okay, telling you that it’s okay. Before you know it, she’s the one comforting you.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Okay? Look at me, take a deep breath. If anyone should be freaking out it’s me,” she says, pulling back enough to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s blood on her fingers, making your eyes go wide, but she quickly wipes it off with a scowl. Then she’s caressing your skin again, soft repeating motions perfect for calming you down. “That’s right, see? We’re fine. You’re a fucking badass, darling, and honestly? It’s very attractive.” Now you’re both giggling, you a bit more than her. Because of course she’s flirting right now. It’s an incredible softness. One that you, quite frankly, do not feel you deserve. At first it’s a tiny voice in the back of your head, but it soon grows until it strikes the smile from your lips. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Shit, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, really,” you interject, as fast as you can, ignoring the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra isn’t convinced, however, and gives you a pleading look. Knowing that you cannot resist her, you close your eyes, sighing, then admit your wretched truth. “The door. Cassandra, the door’s open. I… I came down the hallway and I saw the two of you and I saw the fucking door and I… I hesitated. I hesitated.” There’s a mighty tremble to your voice, teeth and lips shaking. In the moment, you cannot bring yourself to meet her gaze, eyes instead glued to the bloodstained floor. It’s so quiet that you swear you can hear your tears hitting the tile. The air around you is filled with a looming heartache, a shadow over the two of you, hungry for your tears. But the rage you anticipate from Cassandra never comes.

For fuck’s sake, she pulls you closer. She takes you in her arms, making you rest your head against her chest, one hand gently rubbing circles into your back. Shock makes you unable to do anything other than linger limply in her grip. Thankfully, she has more than enough words for the both of you.

“Of course you did. All you ever wanted was to escape, right? And all I ever wanted was to see how much fun I could get out of you before you betrayed us,” she admits, coolly, as if the words didn’t break both of your hearts. At first, you merely start crying harder, realizing that she had seen through you this whole time. Realizing that all of her softness had just been sharpness covered in sheep’s clothing. Except she’s not done talking. “Now look at us. Couple of idiots who caught feelings. So shut up, because we’re in this mess together, now, and I don’t intend to let you go, understood? You-” she pulls back, looking you right in the eyes- “are mine. Besides… you just killed for me. I think that more than makes up for any hesitance, yeah?” Before you know it you’re kissing her. You’re pressing yourself to her, smiling through your tears, forced to pause to laugh at yourself. How ridiculous had this whole affair been? How had you convinced yourself, for so long, that escape was all you had cared about?...

All this time you thought you wanted out. But at the end of the day… you just wanted to go home. How could you have guessed that you would have found a new home, here, in someone’s arms? Despite the surprise of it all… you couldn’t be happier.

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