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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give.

> idol!jungkook x f!reader / angst, fluff, suggestive / wc: 8.3k

> warnings: mention of infidelity (no one did u can breathe ily), mention of a classmate slipping their number in oc’s pocket and oc feeling unsafe, mention of puking, mentions & allusion to s/x, alcohol consumption, making out, boob!e fondle, gr*nding kinda? jungkook is hard™️ they’re so in love it’s sickening

> in which masterlist!

playlist! and if/or when - ruel / hate everything - jungkook cover (gsoul) / hits different - taylor swift / statue - lil’ eddie / i wouldn’t ask you - clairo (i had to get in the zone & this is so oc-coded i need u to listen i’m so srs)

next: in which you don’t want to give up jungkook (even when he gave you reasons to, even if they give you reasons to).

note: this was a journey. happened back in june 2019.!! i’m ripping off the bandaid <3 deep sigh writing this made me realize how my babies have come so far. hopefully will follow up with a fluffy fluff lowkey inspired by the underwear live soonest lols i’m excited for it 2 stay tuned 🫂 reblogs & feedback are much appreciated <3

—

you forgot the walls of the apartment building you’re living in are thin. a small portion of the white paint has been chipped off, it looks like a birth mark, you note — except it’s not, and you’re the one who caused the irregularity.

your favorite glass is scattered across the kitchen floor, reduced to shards and to sparkling pieces almost as miniscule as dust. you don’t know what came over you. you don’t know why you threw it at the wall instead of filling it with cold water to only drink three sips like you usually do.

just when you thought you’ve been faring well in holding yourself together today, a fresh wave of sorrow overwhelms you. your knees buckle as you begin weeping, the loudest you’ve been since this nightmare has started. it swallows the knocking sounds at your door, but it’s still not loud enough to quell jungkook’s quivering voice playing like a broken record on loop inside your head.

“we should end this… i think it’s for the best, before we get drained.”

the rain is coming down fiercely and you’re freezing inside his car, parked outside your apartment. after all, his balenciaga windbreaker can only do so much against the blasted airconditioner. your throat is painfully dry, and your hands and face are numb from the piercing cold. but those are the least of your concerns because you feel like your head had just been dunked in ice water. the sting in your eyes are burning warmer as the seconds fly by and the muffled sounds of the torrential raindrops drum frantically in your ears. they’re clouding the car windows, mirroring jungkook’s tear-stained cheeks.

“i’m leaving again in three weeks. and i’m leaving again next year… and i’ll be gone again soon after that for a long time. i-i don’t know when i’m coming home, ___.” he pauses. the heel of palms press against his eyes, as if that could possibly barricade the saltwater leaking from them. “i never know where my life is taking me and you have your own… there’s too much-too much going on. i think that i’m just wasting your time, that this isn’t- it’s not going anywhere.”

“open the door! hello?! ___!”

“what do you want?!” you seeth in annoyance, swinging the door open to reveal your pesky neighbor.

he scratches the top of his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess that you greeted him with, having not bothered to pretend that you weren’t wailing your heart out.

”hey, i know you’re going through something…” his lips remain parted as he struggles to find the correct word, his right eye twitching voluntarily. “soul-crushing? right now. but i heard glass breaking and i was concerned that you, uhm, might’ve hurt yourself.”

the apparent nervousness and sincerity in his actions pull you out from the isolating disassociation you’ve imprisoned yourself in. you feel humiliated, presenting yourself in your most pitiful form infront of a kid two years younger than you. you envy him for having it together after storming out of his parents’ house while you-

“i’m not hurt. it was just an accident.”

you’re shamelessly lying infront of his face because the truth makes you feel too ashamed of yourself.

he only nods, smiling in relief. “i don’t know how to help make you feel better, so i just brought honey like i used to do before.”

you sigh, the familiar jar of honey and its red checkered lid waving at you like an old friend. has it been a year?

“bro, i told you i can’t accept this anymore.”

“you and your boyfriend already broke up. what’s the big deal?”

you have never wanted to smack someone more, the genuine confusion painted on his face feels like an infuriatingly harsh slap to yours.

“he wasn’t threatened by your honey, you dipshit. we just found out my blood sugar was getting a bit high!”

“oh- i’m so-”

you angrily slam the door shut. the silence you’re left with is suffocating, and you find yourself breaking down again.

he jumps in surprise when you open the door again, yelling- “and we’re not broken up!” before ripping away the jar of honey from his sweaty palms. he’s left completely flabbergasted, an inexplicable heaviness weighing on his chest when he hears your sniffling from the other side of the hard-wood.

“does that mean i can deliver again next week? i have too much in my kitchen…”

he doesn’t receive a snarky answer, surprisingly, so he continues talking.

“and f-y-i, your left cheek is bleeding! you might want to check on that!”

—

“you didn’t even give me any signs…”

you inhale a deep, shaky breath in a fragile attempt of keeping your composure. you want to scream, rip apart this thick tension with your bare hands, and force him to admit that this is just some kind of sick joke. you finally see him in person after months and all he has for you is a gift bag filled to the brim with heartbreak. this is too casually cruel, not something you would’ve expected from your jungkook.

“do you really mean that? or is there something else you’re not saying…? look at me.” you plead, weakly tugging at the hem of his long-sleeved shirt. the horrors of long-distance relationship stories claw their way out of your skin, adding fuel to the fire of your deepest fear. “you didn’t cheat on me, right? that can’t be it. we- we always-”

after you ended your last relationship, you cried at the parking lot of your university and continued living your life the next morning as if nothing happened at all. you did it all for yourself, anyway. he was gradually tearing down your confidence and your dignity; and you didn’t want to become a person the future you would despise for not being wiser, stronger.

and here you are at present day: spending the cozy sunday night solving chemistry problems on your desk. you have a blue bandaid plastered on your face and a cheek full of fruit and honey. and you would say you’re fine, but jungkook wasn’t here to sweetly dote on you while treating your wound. he isn’t here to taste the honey from your lips with that coquettish smirk of his. he isn’t laying on your bed, fighting to stay awake because he wants to fall asleep with you as his pillow.

no matter how hard you try to shut out this thought, it keeps knocking on the door. he’s going to be doing these sweet nothings for a different person when he finally reaches a more stable place in his life. you want to kneel on the ground, beg the heavens to meddle with destiny and never let you hear about it.

because that means he will never set foot in your apartment again, and the personal belongings you left in his room will be thrown out to erase the traces you left behind.

so this is how it begins.

the ugliest parts of you are swimming to the surface, tying themselves around your ankles because jungkook took away the ground from beneath your feet after unearthing your soul and… nothing makes sense to you anymore. if you wake up every morning to tend to your garden, and you look outside the window to learn that the sun has stopped burning, what do you have left?

your lips inevitably curve into a frown, but you inhale a sharp breath, patting your eyes dry before they can smudge the black ink on your notepad. and then you dip a strawberry in honey for the third time.

—

“no, baby, no- that’s not it.”

the dread and insecurity weaved into the cracks of your voice fill him with nausea and panic. he captures your frigid hand with haste, firmly holding it to his pounding chest.

“i would never do that to you. just the thought alone fucking disgusts me… you’re the only one. you’ve ruined me for everybody else.”

“then why are you giving up on me? am i becoming a burden?”

jungkook feels painfully numb, mind floating as the buildings outside the window get left behind him as a mere, passing blur.

“yah, jungkook-ah. are you crying?”

a torturous moment of silence passes as he struggles to find his voice. his tongue is tied, and his lost eyes are betraying the nights he spent practicing how to explain himself to you. back then, the reasoning he curated made sense. but faced with the consequences of his actions, the love of his life’s brain running a thousand miles per hour, recording a tale of woe and heartache on his passenger seat — he has never felt this much loathing for himself and his weaknesses.

you release a shaky breath, patting his rosy cheeks dry with your sleeves. you smile at him kindly, and he watches you in sheer disbelief. he can’t fathom the perpetual luck he’s been blessed with that he met, who he believes to be, the purest soul to grace this corrupted world. they’re damp with your tears, so it’s practically useless, but the sweet gesture is a stray beam of sunlight in the midst of the dull gray clouds.

the comforting rubs on his shoulder extracts him from his torturous thoughts, and only then does he feel the wetness on his face.

“you’ve been holding it back for the past week. just cry it out.”

he nods wordlessly, hiding himself in the fleece blanket from his lap. yoongi can feel a lump forming in his throat as he witnesses his youngest brother breaking down, jungkook’s pain also being his pain. as a group who’s been living together for the past decade, no one will be able to empathize with them as well each other. especially during times like this.

“___ hasn’t called?”

jungkook shakes his head wistfully, wiping away the tears that slid down his nose. he is dying to send you a text message, worried sick, and still used to hearing about your day the same way he is used to sleeping on his stomach.

“hyung,” the sound of the word borders on a sob. “it’s over. this is killing me… it’s all my fault.”

“but isn’t that what you wanted?”

“exactly. so why am i crying?” his hands ball into closed fists. “i’m an asshole.”

“enough of that!” yoongi loudly whines out his scolding. ”we all know you had your reason.”

“but, hyung, i fucked up!” he tenses up, blurting out the acknowledgement that’s been haunting him day and night. “she told me the most romantic thing and i felt so… fuck, i’m so angry at myself. i ruined everything. and i’m scared that i’d end up making things worse if i try fixing it.”

“stop beating yourself up. we can’t solve things this way.” yoongi grabs a bottle of water from the cupholder between them, twisting the cap open before handing it to jungkook. “drink first.”

once he starts drinking, he realizes that his throat has been awfully dry and sore. it’s most probably best for him to rest his voice. he can already foresee the concert rehearsal being absolute hell tomorrow. if he can’t sing, he doesn’t know how else he’s supposed to keep himself sane.

“talk to me. what did she say?”

“you’re the first person i’ve fallen in love with, do you know that?”

and with that revelation, he loses the warmth of your touch, and he comes crashing down like a wingless aircraft.

“i also need time to think about it. that’s only fair, right? that i get to decide, too…?” you swallow thickly, lips parting as if the words are resisting to come out of your mouth.

he looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, a push and pull between longing and trepidation.

if this was a movie, he would brave the rain and somehow perfectly deliver a poetically romantic speech that would sway your heart. if this was a movie, you would take a warm bath together, make out in the bathtub, and make love on your bed. if this was a movie, the day would end with the two of you tangled up, peacefully asleep and rhythmic breathing in sync. but he knows you. apparently not as well as he thought, but to some extent, he knows you. if he pulls you closer in the heat of the moment, you would feel suffocated and defensive and you would push him away; and he would lose you for good. that much he knows. so he lets you leave and he stays in the car— heartbroken, crestfallen, and regretful, because he might’ve just recklessly thrown away the best gift the universe has ever given him.

“i was thinking about how she never would’ve made this much sacrifices and efforts for anyone else and i feel like… i- it’s all going to waste because our future is uncertain. i can’t be committed to her as much as she is committed to me. and, and i felt like the guilt was eating away at me, you know? i wasn’t thinking straight.” jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a last ditch effort to prevent himself from sobbing. “it just… consumed me? like i was drowning… and all i could smell and taste was the saltwater.”

“i see,” yoongi sighs, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers infront of his stomach as he finds the right words to say. “that’s a normal response. our brain is a very complex friend… but you know, everything i’ve been through as myself and as a part of our team, hmmm, they taught me that there are times when a problem doesn’t necessarily need a solution per se. you just keep going until the fog clears up and then you move past it.”

fuck, jungkook needs a glass of whiskey. or two. or twelve. he listens intently despite seeming like he’s spacing out.

“this won’t last forever and time slips away from us without us even noticing. you should do what you want to do. if we’re going to deprive ourselves of good things, what will we have left after everything is over? money we can’t spend in one lifetime? there’s no happiness in that.”

yoongi frowns, wishing he could do more to alleviate the weight hanging on jungkook’s shoulders.

“you deserve love outside all the noise, too. focus on the present which you can still control and deal with the future when it arrives. if you do otherwise, you’ll just be tormenting yourself… and i know it’s easier said than done but! do you want to hear something i’ve had on my mind lately?”

with a flushed face and swollen eyes, he tilts his head to curiously spy on his hyung.

“what is it?”

“your motivation to work out after our shows is so you can stay awake and spend time with her. that’s why you fall asleep everywhere else. do you know how scary and endearing it is to watch that? is that what you call ‘not being committed enough’?”

yoongi fails to hide his gummy smile, body vibrating with silent laughter as pictures of jungkook falling asleep standing up flash before his eyes.

“seriously, you punk! you scare me! i just pass out and die straight after while you- really, you’re really unbelievable. i envy you. for being able to love with everything you have until they break your heart. i mean it!”

“but i’m the one who broke their heart this time.” jungkook somberly utters in defeat, bottom lip jutting out and chin quivering.

yoongi encouragingly pats his shoulder, shaking his body lightly. ”you can make it up to her. she’ll reach out before we leave. have some more patience.”

jungkook’s eyes turn into slits, suspiciously squinting at the man sitting beside him. “why do you sound so sure?”

“because she loves you. why else?”

—

you automatically pause from eating cup ramyeon when your phone lights up on top of the journals you’ve been reviewing for the past hour.

“ah, shit! shit!”

you abruptly cover your mouth with your hand, exhausted eyes watering because you accidentally bit your tongue after reading the name of the sender of your newest text notification. you take sips of cold water, peering at your phone as you do so. your hands itch to type out a response, but the screen dies and turns black, another of yoongi’s messages in the same pile of unanswered ones from your friends checking up on you tonight. you can’t talk to anyone right now; you need to get shit done.

after eating your dinner at the convenience store, you come home to a plastic of fried chicken hanging on the doorknob of your front door.

Eat lots and stay healthy! I’m feeding Jungkook well too. Don’t worry. — Yoongi

you peel off the blue handwritten note, sticking it on the cover of one of your books. you carefully carry the food using your free hand, and you can feel it radiating on your skin, the heat of a freshly-cooked meal. you were always worried of being a bother when you occasionally ask him how jungkook is doing on tour, but this made your heart significantly lighter. gaining a good friend after losing your lover, perhaps life can show a smidge of mercy when it wants to.

too bad you’ve always been one to be greedy.

—

“ah, seriously. why did you have to break up with ___?”

“we’ve been through this a million times!” jungkook exclaims in exasperation as he fiddles with the controller, bumping his knee with taehyung’s. “focus. you’re supposed to be helping me forget.”

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.” taehyung responds with a shrug, smirking when he picks up a booster and runs past his friend’s character. “you finally found someone who could put up with you and you let them go? i won’t let you forget.”

jungkook scoffs, eyes rolling upwards. “bro, i should be the least of your problems.”

“nuh-uh.” taehyung tuts with a grin, belly aching with laughter when jungkook’s car jumps over his to steal the lead. he didn’t even know that was possible. he plans on using the same trick against him later. “i’m making you my biggest problem so i don’t have to deal with mine.”

“they’re not married yet. you still have a chance, you know?”

“yah!” he gapes at jungkook in shock, entirely forgetting about the game. “take that back!”

“don’t act like you haven’t thought of it!”

“yeah, but i don’t say it out loud. it sounds too wrong! i still have my morals left!” he cries out, stomping his feet on the floor.

jungkook lightly punches his arm, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “i meant you have a chance if they break up. i have morals too! what do you think of me?!”

“oh…” taehyung blinks. “you know who else have probably thought of that too, though?”

“who?” jungkook boredly questions as he scrolls through the game collection, contemplating about which one to play next.

“all the other people waiting in line for ___.”

the realization renders him motionless, stirring up the possessiveness coursing through his veins. for the love of god, he doesn’t want to be petty but that struck a nerve. he wants to storm out of the house and look for you, beg on his knees for you to take him back.

“aish, hyung, you’re driving me crazy! why would you tell me that? are we torturing each other?!”

“are you crying? yah, jungkook-ah.” taehyung watches his hunched figure with a guilty wince, hesitant hands rubbing the expanse of his back. “i’m sorry- i’m sorry… do you want a hug?”

jungkook stays quiet, head hanging low to hide his face crumpling with anguish. the loose but affectionate hug that he gets pulled into prompts him to fall apart, catharsis blossoming in his ribcage and turning his bones into jelly.

he hears obnoxiously loud sniffles, and he abandons taehyung’s shoulder to look at his face. “are you crying, too?”

“stop ruining the moment.” taehyung groans, forcefully pushing down his head again.

namjoon comes out from his bedroom in search for another extension cord, still sipping on the half-empty iced americano he took from the fridge only ten minutes ago. the heartfelt scene on the couch causes him to halt on his tracks. how did they go from playing games to crying together? he silently observes the two members for a moment before deciding to approach them.

“what am i going to do with the two of you?” he grunts, ruffling his hair in frustration. “shall we go out for drinks to disinfect your wounded hearts?”

the mention of alcohol makes them perk up, jungkook’s tearful doe eyes sparkling at the prospect of temporarily erasing the pain that has uncontrollably spread throughout his system. he wants to drink until he forgets that he has hands, until he forgets what it feels like to touch you.

“thanks, monie-hyung. i’ll have my appetizer.”

and the iced americano gets snatched away from namjoon’s unsuspecting hand within the blink of an eye.

—

“this is not a barbecue restaurant.” you stare blankly at the orange neon lights spelling out the name of the night club your friends secretly conspired to bring you to.

“___, loosen up! the fastest way to move on is to find someone else. this is the best place for that.” aera turns around from the passenger seat of the taxi, her red lips painting a thrilled smile. “just forget about jungkook. we all knew this shit was going to happen. i’m surprised you even lasted that long!”

“i don’t know what you’re trying to imply but i don’t appreciate your tone.” you warn her with a sharp, threatening look. “and the ‘someone else’ that i found at a bar before turned out to be biggest fucking jerk i’ve ever met. i’m not doing this again.”

“things might be different this ti-” mi-ran aids in persuading you, but it only adds fuel to the fire.

“oh my god! fuck off!” you yell in irritation, aggressively getting off the car and slamming the door shut on their faces.

you never look back, ignoring the shouts of your name and half-assed apologies. you don’t have the slightest idea about where you’re going — your feet have a mind of their own and they chose to go the opposite way of home. this isn’t how you envisioned your night. you just wanted to listen to the sound of the meat grill and complain about life giving you a taste of true love just to cut your tongue with it until you bled. was that too much to ask?

you’re about ninety percent certain that you just lost two of whom you treated to be your closest friends. you think of ah-young, and you briefly consider crashing at your best friend’s band practice, but you’re too exhausted to travel to the other end of the city.

with eleven seconds left in the timer, you cross the street with swift and long strides alongside a crowd consisting mostly of employees wearing the same navy blue uniform. at last, you’re among the bright and lively restaurants, the inviting smell of good food making your stomach sting with hunger.

it’s only taehyung who recognizes you when you unknowingly pass by, almost choking on his glass of somaek, the combination of soju and beer. with his career on the line, he is confident that he can recognize that balenciaga windbreaker anywhere and anytime. meanwhile, instead of talking about you, the youngest is drunkenly reminiscing about the alleged ghost encounters he had in their old dorms. their leader is tragically left to tend to the grill alone. he deeply regrets not dragging any of the older members with them.

“everyone, i think i just saw __-”

a grimace of cluelessness is plastered on taehyung’s face when jungkook claps once, enthusiastically pointing at him as if he just announced something inspiring and life-changing.

“you’re right, you’re right! that’s it! what i’m kind of trying to say here is…” he pauses, facial muscles relaxing into a gloomy expression. he sniffles and rubs his nose, making it a brighter shade of red. “when we move houses again, i won’t have stories like these to bring with me. the new ghosts will be my memories with ___.”

none of the other two dares to speak after that, the oddly satisfying sound of meat being grilled and the chattering from other tables occupy the uneasy and heavy silence. instead, they begin filling their own shot glasses with pure soju. namjoon is the first one to spill it down his throat, slamming it on the table before dishing out his phone from his pocket. by this time, all of them are already drunk, double vision blurry and speech a little slurred. they gave up on counting the green bottles and cans of beer a long while ago.

“shit, that was a good metaphor. i need to write that down.”

“namjoon-hyung, he’s crying again!”

jungkook’s head slumps on the table with a thud, hot tears escaping down to his temple as he laments. “i miss her so much. why did i have to break up with her the second we got home? why…? am i so impulsive? what do i do if… if she agrees that we- h-how am i supposed to live with myself after that…? i’m never going to love again.”

they shuffle apprehensively on their seats, but still, they tell jungkook what he needs to hear since he won’t remember tonight’s events, anyway.

that’s not going happen. she just needs some more time. i’m sure she’s missing you too. everything will be okay.

but it’s been almost two weeks of radio silence. their flight is in nine days, drawing nearer and nearer as if it’s purposely taunting jungkook. everyone is thinking the same thing, and everyone is afraid to say it out loud.

—

it’s 7am when his work alarm goes off. with a disgruntled noise, a hungover jungkook drowsily drags himself out of bed, eyes still closed as he swings the bedroom door open.

“oing?” he creates a noise of confusion when his arm bumps against an object. he blinks at the brown paper bag hanging on his doorknob, removing one of the handles to peek at its contents.

he buffers for a moment, staring blankly at his belongings safely tucked inside. there’s his black mini bluetooth speaker, tinted lipbalm, wired earphones, bucket hat, facial cleanser, moisturizer, and shampoo. these are everything he left on top of your study desk and in your bathroom. neatly folded on the side is his windbreaker, which he recalls as clear as daylight, how you reveled in its comfort the last time that you were together. the fabric softener you use has replaced his perfume, the cherry scent forming a rain cloud of nostalgia and longing above his head.

if this is a nightmare, he is begging for somebody, anybody, to break into the room and to bring him someplace where hope is not desolate.

his wounded heart, as his namjoon-hyung described, is experiencing an excruciating pain he never even imagined was possible. he now understands, why the broken heart syndrome is a real thing.

he can’t read you. is this your way of ‘reaching out’? have you kicked him out of your house, out of your life? for good?

the dread of losing you forever is gnawing at his insides. nausea almost succeeds in knocking him off his feet. his brain hisses with static. he panics at the disgustingly familiar sensation brewing in his digestive system, sprinting to the bathroom to spill out his guts.

they say that you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. that early morning, jungkook realizes that he’s only a human being after all.

—

“when did i put that there?”

you’re sorting out your dirty laundry after showering when you notice a tissue paper tucked in the front pocket of your denim jeans. you huff out a sigh, ripping it apart into tiny pieces over the trash bin with raging vexation. you will never understand how men thinks that these kind of stupid tricks are supposed to compel you into seeing them anywhere near attractive and desirable in your eyes. if anything, they make you feel unsafe and if your paths cross again, you will run the other way. great. another person in the lecture room to avoid. just fucking great.

at this point, you want to mockingly laugh at your own misery. just when you thought your day couldn’t possibly get worse, it fucking does.

you tuck yourself in bed by midnight, texting a friend about your joint presentation next week, and then rereading your conversation with namjoon from this morning for the nth time. you’ve been hoping it will shine light on the right path to take, because you’re still lost and hurt.

Namjoon:

he’s been devastated since

can’t this be sorted out?

stuff’s just been overwhelming and honestly i’m as anxious as him

i'm not trying to force you into getting back together with him ofc but please talk for closure atleast..

you’re also my friend. i think you need it too..

you scroll a bit further down afterwards, and your heart drops to your stomach when you see the three dots under the contact name ‘my jungkook’. you click on it as it beckons you to, only to allow time to flow like a river with no sea to kiss, idly watching the bubble appear and disappear, appear and disappear. almost everyday, you catch a glimpse of him at the very least, typing a message and never sending it.

the same goes for tonight, it seems.

his silence is torturing you. in the car, in your inbox, in your call history. a person knocks on the door and a part of you foolishly predicts that it’s jungkook not using his copy of the key out of respect.

you succumb to the yearning, heading to your shared media and files that you’ve been actively resisting for the past three weeks… for this exact reason.

you randomly click a video sent by jungkook three months ago.

“i know you’re in class but i’m too excited to show what i got you today!” he beams at the front camera, bunny teeth cutely showing. he picks up the first item from the hotel bed with his free hand. “you already own this book but this one got a different cover, see? it’s hardback? they say it’s a limited edition.”

he eyes it fleetingly, obvious that there is something else he is dying to mention.

“i won’t show it too close. you can look at it when i go home. there’s a little surprise inside.”

he scrunches his nose before teasingly sticking his tongue out.

“and then here we haaave-”

following that, he shows you an adorable fluffy white bunny with red eyes. it occupies more than half the screen, and without a doubt, it is soft and huggable.

“cooky’s new sibling! we found it at a gift shop and hobi-hyung said it looks like me.”

he presses his cheek to the bunny’s. “i accept. we do look alike, but my eyes are so much bigger.”

in the upcoming seconds, the video is muted except for his breathing. he plops down on the bed while ruffling his dark hair, staring at the camera wordlessly, evocative of when you catch him dreamily watching you study while you’re on a videocall.

“i miss you.” he smiles sadly, deep dimples appearing on his cheeks. “don’t forget to text me when you’re on your way home.”

he drops on his back, the firm mattress breaking his fall.

“mmmwah!“ he kisses the camera, and your screen freezes on the final frame.

the silence in the aftermath is defeaning. you tear your glasses off your face, burying your face in the pillows. you arrive at your final decision then and there. you don’t care. you don’t care. you don’t care anymore. you cannot bear to spend more of your days like this. his things that used to live here might be gone, but you look for him everywhere. you look for his car in the parking lot. you look for his hair when you see flowers. you wait for his name to be called in the coffee shop. on your way home, you linger at the playground where you used to usually meet.

because if your relationship with jungkook is truly doomed to fail, you want to watch its foundation collapse on the ground, burnt down to gray and black ashes that disintegrate when you try to grasp them in your hands… with good grace, it’s the only way for you to believe that there’s no more home to come home to.

with a trembling hand, you press the call button and for the very first time, you beg someone to stay.

—

jungkook’s breathing ceases, heartbeat violently racing in his chest. the ‘chimes’ ringtone tickle his ears, his phone vibrating incessantly in his hands. the two features he specifically customized in your contact settings so he will immediately recognize that it’s you who’s calling.

it’s been four days since you dropped off his things. and here he was, laying on his bed and struggling to find the right words to say because he refuses to believe that this is how it ends. the paper bag is still hanging on the doorknob. he hasn’t touched it since the first time. he doesn’t have the courage to do so.

fuck giving you space. he wants drown himself in you and never come up for air. he’s more than willing to suffer your anger or your coldness. he’s prepared to prove himself worthy of a second chance every second of every day. he wants to occupy half of your desk and half of your closet again. he selfishly wishes to be the first and the last person you fall in love with.

but until the very end, you’re the braver one.

“love?” your voice is quiet, barely audible, but it’s there, and he hears the affectionate term of endearment distinctly. “i’m sorry. i tried, i really did, but i couldn’t do it…”

“baby,” he falters breathlessly, half of him in disbelief, convinced that he has officially lost his goddamn mind and delusion is bleeding into reality.

“i tried living without you like you wanted- but i can’t-” you hiccup in between small sobs on the other line. “i love you, jungkook. i can’t live carrying around all this love with me. it’s too heavy…”

exploding and breaking apart, jungkook’s heart is a meteor that has entered the planet’s atmosphere, and he doesn’t know where to begin digging for the fragments so he can piece himself together again.

“we are too young and we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing and i love you too much. you don’t have to protect me… i’ll take my fair share of the responsibility, so just-” he hangs on your every word, and then you pause, your following words eliciting a powerful punch to his gut. “just let me love you and let me learn my lesson the hard way… let’s do that, okay?”

the walls of him room ebbs and flows in like the sea. he rests his forearm over his eyes, his skin gradually dampening with tears. he once promised himself that he would never put you in this position. he should be the one begging for forgiveness, repenting and crawling on his knees. but rather than wasting his time with surfing through another tsunami of self-blame, he reminds himself: i want to be a better man.

“okay, baby. let’s do that, hmm? let’s do that. it’s what i want too.” he coos softly with a hoarse voice. “are you at your apartment?”

you hum in confirmation, sniffling. “come home.”

—

a half-naked jungkook abruptly opens the door to yoongi’s room, wearing gray sweatpants with his left arm awkwardly inserted in one of the black t-shirt’s armhole.

“hyung! can i borrow your car? mine’s getting a check-up.”

yoongi tears his eyes away from the computer, hanging the black headphones on the nape of his neck. he merely shrugs before throwing the car key, and jungkook catches it in one hand with ease.

he sighs in relief, politely bowing his upper body to express his gratitude. “thank you, hyung.”

“what are you doing?!” yoongi half-smiles with fondness, jokingly waving him off. “just go- go. leave!”

—

jungkook nervously stands before your front door, head woozy with anticipation and fear. what if things have changed? what if your relationship never goes back to the way it was?

“oh. you’re back together?”

he whips his head back to find your neighbor arriving home from his part-time job. huh, he just realized that he has never really learned what his name is. the only information he has on him is that his sister owns a bee farm.

“how did you even know?” he asks with knitted eyebrows. “you haven’t been giving out honey again, have you?”

“she only accepted it once.” the stranger puts his arms up in surrender with a roll of his eyes. “and don’t make her cry again, will you? she blasts sad songs late at night.”

and with an unpleasantly forceful shut of the door, jungkook is left alone in the hallway. his jaw clenches as he glares at the next apartment, but he rubs his face to release his frustration before he goes to meet you.

“we need to move in together.” he grumbles to himself as he enters your unit, relocking the door behind him. he removes his sneakers, neatly setting them down beside your pairs of shoes by the doormat.

he pads on the wooden floor with his white toe socks, looking around the dark and quiet living room. a faint orange light is seeping under the gap between the floor and the bedroom door, which he recognizes to be your favorite mode on your multi-colored nightstand lamp. he cautiously cracks the door open, and he is instantly greeted by your curled up figure, peacefully sleeping.

it’s muscle memory when he hangs his backpack on the backrest of your study chair before anything else. he also brought the paper bag you sent, putting it down on the floor.

he squats down infront of you, lightly prying away the phone you’re hugging to your chest and placing the device on the bedside table. the light is shining over your skin, and there are a thousand of photos and videos organized into the most treasured folder in his gallery, but not a single one of them will ever do you justice.

god, he missed you so much. it hasn’t been two years, but the life he had before he met you feels like an extremely distant memory.

he sighs, talking in hopes that he appears in your dreams. “how do you do this? you make it impossible not to love you.”

he unconsciously frowns at the sight of your puffy eyes. never again. never again. never again. he chants inside his head. he plants a kiss on each of your eyelids, taking his time to bask in the feeling of your weight under his lips.

he climbs on the opposite side of the bed, tucking you underneath the blanket before securely holding you from behind with his thigh hanging over yours. the warmth of your body and the scent of your shampoo cures the headache that’s been bothering him the whole day. he drifts off to sleep soon after.

—

the feather-light brushes through the silky locks of his hair pulls him out of his slumber half an hour later. he can make out your silhouette through his half-open eyes, the little-mermaid-like scene feels too vivid for a dream.

“why didn’t you wake me up?” you whine, sulking with a pout.

“i’m sorry.” he answers quietly, sitting up to engulf you in a tight embrace as endless apologies tumble from his tongue. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i gave up. i’m sorry that i hurt you. i’m so sorry… are you angry at me?”

“i’m upset.” you admit after a few beats, not seeing the point in sugarcoating it. “it hurts when i remember you saying that. and i understand you but… but i don’t like that you decided alone for us. if you do that again… then it will be over between us.”

he has an arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand firmly holding the back of your head. it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s so reassuring to feel that he doesn’t want to let you out of his embrace. because you hated it — hated how it felt like letting you go was so easy.

“i regret everything. i’m sorry.” he whispers, concealing his tears by nuzzling his face on your neck. “and you’re not a burden. that’s not true.”

he knows that you mean your every word, so he lifts up his head to gaze directly into your eyes, showing that he is as sincere and true to his.

“from now on, all i’ll think about is what i can do to make you happy and safe without compromising our relationship… i’ll do better. i’ll love you better. i promise that i’ll be stronger for us. i won’t make the same mistake twice.”

you wish jungkook could be kinder to himself, treat himself with the same gentleness that comes so naturally with you. why is it that humans find loving themselves so laborious? why does being have to come with such a curse?

taking glimpses at the past, you should’ve been reminding him of these affirmations everyday.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time. i’m not asking for that.” you shake your head, voicing out yourself in a tone so soothing and illuminating. “i don’t want to go anywhere far away from you so think of yourself, too. i told you before, it’s okay to hold on to me. i’m also strong.”

jungkook feels so safe at home. he doesn’t remember what he was so worried of anymore.

“and you know what? if you really see it that way, then i’m telling you now. i want to waste my time on you. you can’t stop me.” your threatening eyes widen in conviction, provoking a sheepish smile to tug at the corners of his lips. “i always get what i want.”

“and you want me?” he innocently points at himself.

“love you.”

“i love you.” he replies, nosing at your neck before leaving a chaste kiss on your skin. “so much.”

“then put yourself in my shoes.” you hum, combing his hair with your fingers, lightly tugging to initiate eye-contact. “i want to take care of you just like how you want to take care of me. i think we have something rare and beautiful…” you pause, self-conscious about coming across as too needy now that you’re face-to-face, but an epiphany shatters your apprehension with a bow and an arrow.

this is what he needed to hear from you that day.

“so stay with me.”

jungkook’s vision becomes unfocused. he’s speechless; the only sound in the room is the humming of the airconditioner, but it’s almost as if you can hear the gears of his brain working their hardest. the pain that glossed his enchanting doe eyes has been replaced with a devotion you’ve never seen expressed so passionately in them before.

“all the time i own is yours.” he declares, cupping your face, the pad of his thumb daintily stroking your cheek. “all of it. we can do anything you want to do. let me make it up to you.”

“anything?” your face lights up with joy and mischief, and the butterflies in jungkook’s stomach come alive. he wants to make it his life’s mission to make you smile everyday; and that, he will do. “then i want you to kiss me.”

the sultriness of your enticing voice makes him go haywire. it’s been too damn long. he has forgotten what it feels like to kiss you. he slowly inches closer, his lips brushing against your lips before he pulls you in deeper, a fervent display of his yearning and apologies. he swallows the needy moan that escapes you as he slowly lays you down on the mattress, stripping off his shirt and mindlessly tossing it somewhere when you impatiently tug at it with another whimper. you cage his face in your hands, bringing back his lips on yours as if he’s the air that you breathe.

he wants to grieve for all the wasted time because everyday, he craved for this. to be honest, he forgets his name when he’s kissing you. outside, the crowds scream his name for being the best at what he does best, and he happily lives for the euphoria of it all. but in this room, there is only you and him. you communicate using the unspoken language of love with your lips. you bare the soft animal in yourselves with your teeth sinking in the other’s skin. you allow your rawest desires and truths to unravel with a slip of the tongue. he exists beyond his name, becomes an indecipherable enigma even to himself. what is the use of an explanation if there is no meaning anyway? all he knows is that he loves you despite all the reasons, against all the reasons.

he sneaks under your shirt, fingertips teasingly exploring your skin as if he’s drawing a map. he feels you quiver when he finally reaches your chest, gently kneading the soft flesh in his palm. this makes you mewl in pleasure, arching your back as your hand unconsciously curls around his wrist, the cotton fabric separating the two of you. the action electrifies jungkook, makes him lose himself a little more, which he didn’t think was still possible.

“touch me, please- jungkook. need you-” you choke out a desperate whimper, nearly sobbing as you guide his hand between your thighs. you can’t bear to spend another second untouched; the last time you made love feels like an eternity ago. he slips past the waistband of your underwear, the only article of clothing you’re wearing below. but to your disappointment, he gently caresses your hip bone instead of dipping his long fingers into your wetness.

“shh, hold on, baby-” he forces himself to break away from the kiss, swollen and red lips glistening with spit. “baby, look at me. you didn’t drink, right? i don’t want to take advantage.”

you gape at him with your chest heaving up and down, dumbfounded. “how could you even think of that right now?”

his eyes widen in panic, worried that he might’ve offended you. “no, no, no-” his palms skim your thighs, guiding them to wrap around his slim waist. you gasp when he presses up on you and his hard length rubs on your folds, sending jolts of electricity up your spine. a gush of arousal dampens the thin material covering your center.

“i want you so fucking bad that it hurts.” he gingerly wipes away the tears that you didn’t even notice streamed down to your temples. you can’t remember the last time you cried before today, they must’ve gotten tired of asking for your permission. “but you were crying when you called, baby. i had to make sure.”

“oh, my boyfriend is such a gentleman.” you muse dreamily. pepper his face with delicate kisses, lips curving upward with an adoring smile. “look at him enjoying my kisses.”

you playfully squeeze his cheeks together, making his pillowy lips pucker.

“you really wanted to break up with me in this case, huh? you wanted to live without me and my kisses? no way.”

his eyelids flutter open, and he shakes his head as he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…” his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh. “going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

“good. you better.” your high-pitched giggles bounce off the walls as his lips trail down to your neck, licking a bold stripe over your ticklish spots. “i don’t have the patience for it, but i’ll be your trusty assistant.”

it’s ridiculous, how even the sound of your laughter turns him on even more.

—

jungkook learned that you finished your exams yesterday, having spent majority of the past two weeks pulling all-nighters to prepare for them. you seem to be confident about the results, the way you talked about it without concern. he never once doubted that you’re resolute and persevering, but acing your exams in the middle of a breakup is beyond what he can digest. it must’ve been a grueling experience, he can only imagine.

he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then your lips, before dragging the blanket higher over your naked figure, a thicker one he brought out from the cabinet. poor thing, you fell asleep on his lap while he was drying your hair, incoherently murmuring about how tired you are.

he walks to your study space, fixing the loosening towel wrapped around his waist. one by one, he pulls out the items from the paper bag, returning them to their old places on your desk. he toothily grins at the windbreaker, ecstatic due to his plan on wearing it at work today. he wants to give it back to you smelling like him again.

an index card lands on the ground when he unfolds it, making him peer down in curiosity.

“what’s this?” he mumbles, bending down to pick it up.

jumbled thoughts. a letter shoved at the back of the mailbox. a hesitant confession. a bittersweet reminder that says: a wound does not magically disappear overnight. it requires the proper treatment to heal correctly, and even then, it might still leave a scar.

These are only a few of many. Why is this the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? I’m usually the more logical one. Was it really so bad that we weren’t going anywhere?

and messily crossed out at the end,

I miss you.

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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heartsandhischier · 26 days

Text

definitely the annoying little brother

luke hughes x female!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader

summary - 5.2k words. living in an apartment with your best friend is great, but living in an apartment with your best friend and his brother... not so great

author's note - so... got a little carried away with this one, might write a part 2 idk yet but I love cocky Luke

warnings - mentions of alcohol, swearing, smut (first time writing so hopefully it isn't total shit)

When you moved to New Jersey you felt absolutely lost. Don't take it the wrong way, it was great – a prestigious college, a change of surroundings, and a fresh start. Your journey took an unexpected turn when you accidentally bumped into someone, quite literally bumping into him, drenching him in your freshly bought coffee. That someone was Jack, who had also just moved to New Jersey after being drafted to the New Jersey Devils. Like you, he was lost, navigating the unfamiliar terrain of a new beginning. Quickly you became best friends, helping each other with everything. You were there to cheer him on in the stands, and cheer him up during his rough rookie year, and he helped you out with your schoolwork, making sure you never felt alone in the stress of college life. You both shared a lot of laughs, late-night chats, and supported each other through thick and thin. And when you struggled to find a new apartment, he offered to let you stay in the guest room without hesitation. When weeks turned into months, you realized that living together clicked for both of you, turning what was meant to be a temporary arrangement into a lasting living situation.

When Luke was drafted, you were on the edge of the seat in the apartment, eyes glued to the screen in anticipation as the New Jersey Devils were about to announce their pick. The moment Luke’s name was called, you leapt up, a surge of joy overwhelming you. You were thrilled, not just for Luke, but because you knew how much this meant for Jack – having the chance to play alongside his brother, to improve and grow together on the ice. You watched the screen as Jack sprung from the couch, shaking with excitement. Jack had told you that if Luke was drafted to the Devils, he would move into the apartment. However, from the friendship you had with Jack, you could only be excited for the fun ahead with two goofy brothers.

But here you were, angrily banging on the shared bathroom door, “LUKE! Are you fucking kidding me, I’m gonna be late.” The reality of living with Luke was far from pleasant and fun. Luke was definitely the annoying brother of the three. Unlike Jack, who was always kind and considerate, Luke seemed to barely tolerate your presence, often making snide, witty comments, as if he wanted to fire you up.

The apartment had become a warzone, filled with incessant arguing, shouting, and tension thick enough to cut with a knife. In Jack’s absence, there was no one acting as the peacemaker, no one stopping the two of you. Luke was leaving the bathroom messy, his toiletries scattered, leaving dirty dishes in the sink, not even bothering to put them in the dishwasher, and taking your clothes out of the dryer leaving them in a pile on the floor so he could use the machine, he even went as far as to have a party the night before your midterm. You couldn’t help but feel like he was doing it on purpose, you knew he was raised well, with proper manners and common decency – cause you knew what Jack was like. You knew, you knew he was doing it on purpose, to get under your skin. And what bothered you most, was that it was working.

Luke finally unlocked the bathroom door, and as he swung it open, a cloud of steam escaped into the hallway. His hair was damp, a towel wrapped around his lower body, showcasing his muscles. “You don’t have to spend that long in the bathroom, especially when you end up looking like that,” you remarked sharply, your arms crossed.

“Like what? Incredibly handsome?” Luke retorted, a smug smirk playing on his lips.

“No, like shit,” you fired back without missing a beat.

“Well, you look pretty shit yourself. So you don’t really need to go to the bathroom before school anyways,” he chuckled, clearly pleased with his response. Frustrated, you rolled your eyes and pushed past him to move on with your day.

“Come on Y/N,” Jack whined, his voice dragging, practically on his knees as he begged. His team was heading out to celebrate their victory from the night before, and with your schedule finally clear after non-stop stress, Jack insisted on you joining them, arguing you deserved a break. But, his team included a certain someone – Luke. The idea of enduring hours into the night, subjected to Luke’s endless barbs and comments, now potentially amplified by alcohol, spelled nothing but trouble in your mind.

“I’ll put you on my tab, if you come,” he offered, hoping to entice you with the promise of a free night out. You couldn’t help but laugh at his desperation for you to join, “Come on, I know you guys rotate who keeps the tab,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes playfully at him, “And you were the one paying last time.”

“Please I’ll clean the bathroom the next three weeks,” he proposed.

“Four weeks.”

“Okay next four weeks. And I'll make you lunch for those weeks too,” he said, extending his hand in a peace offering.

“Deal. But I’ll skip on the lunch since you barely know how to cook broccoli.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Luke?” you questioned, slipping into your boots, a hint of curiosity in your voice. Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at your question, giving himself a once-over in the mirror. “Suddenly become best friends with your ‘enemy’?” he teased. “Absolutely not,” you replied with a snort, “Just needed to know if I had to fight for us to sit in the back.”

The Uber drove into the bustling city of New York, skyscrapers rushing by in a blur. Luke had headed out early with Holtz and Mercer, leaving you to revel in the peaceful drive to the club, free from any of the usual bickering. The car was filled with laughter and lighthearted banter, both you and Jack bubbling with anticipation for the evening ahead.

A chime sounded as the elevator announced your arrival to the club’s level, and as the doors slid open, you were greeted by a stunning panoramic view of New York City. the vibrant lights and endless skyline stretched out before you, leaving you in awe. “Pretty sick, right?” Jack nudged you, his smirk infectious, clearly proud of the evening’s choice. The club’s interior buzzed with energy, packed with people moving rhythmically under the glow of shimmering lights. The music enveloped the space, so loud and deep that the bass seemed to vibrate through the very floor. Jack, with a reassuring grip, took your hand and guided you through the crowd, weaving towards the table where his teammates were gathered.

They all excitedly greeted the two of you, ushering for you both to join them at the table. You loved Jack’s teammates – they were just as kind and welcoming as him, making everyone feel included and part of the fun. They made you feel like a part of the team. And then there was Luke, he didn't even glance in your direction when you approached the table, too invested in a conversation with Timo to care – yeah sure.

As soon as you sat down, drinks were served – Jack with his usual beer, and for you, a Tom Collins, your all-time favorite. You couldn’t help but chuckle, Jack even went as far as to make sure you got your favorite drink.

After a few more drinks and hearty laughs, Jack pulled you out of your seat and onto the dance floor. The music took over as soon as you started moving, and you found yourself really enjoying the moment. Dancing there with Jack, you felt genuinely happy that you’d agreed to go out. And you forgot all about his annoying little brother.

Dancing, lost in the rhythm and the music, you realized your glass was empty. Sliding through the crowd, you made your way to the bar, navigating the sea of people all moving to the same beat. The bartenders moved with swift precision, a blur of activity as they tried to keep up with the endless stream of orders shouted by the eager club-goers.

Waiting to be served, you suddenly felt a hand wrap around your waist. Startled, you turned around, meeting the drunken gaze of a stranger. “What you getting beautiful?” He was undoubtedly handsome, but the whole ordeal made you somewhat uncomfortable. You tried to respond, but only managed to stumble out an incoherent answer.

He leaned in, his breath brushed your ear, the words “Why don’t I buy you a drink, and then we can continue the party at my place?” lingering in the air between you. The proposal sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine, and not the good kind. You were caught off guard, unsure of how to escape the situation, all you managed in response was a sheepish smile, your mind racing for a way out. In a sudden move, he leaned in. You were frozen, unable to move away, you just tightly shut your eyes, bracing for impact. However, the kiss never landed. With your eyes still closed, the sounds of a scuffle broke through the music.

Then he leaned in closer, his breath fanning over your ear, “Why don’t I buy you a drink, and then we can continue the party at my place.” it sent a shiver down your spine, and not the good kind, you could only offer a sheepish smile. Then in the whiff of a moment he leaned in trying to give you a kiss. You were frozen, you couldn’t move away and just closed your eyes, bracing for impact. But the kiss never came, eyes still closed, you heard commotion.

“Back off. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Opening your eyes, you found Luke standing between you and the stranger. He had pushed him, shielding you from his advances.

“You okay?” Luke asked as he lightly brushed your arm, his towering presence offering a sense of security. You looked up at him, slowly giving him a small nod. What the fuck just happened.

Without missing a beat, Luke turned to signal the bartender, “Two Tom Collins’, please.” The bartender acknowledged with a nod and swiftly got to work on the drinks.

As he handed you one of the glasses, Luke’s hand found its way to the small of your back, guiding you with a surprising gentleness toward the dance floor. The music, once again, wrapped around you, quickly making you forget all about the uncomfortable encounter at the bar.

You found yourself dancing close to Luke, you had never been this close to him before, ever. However, you found it somewhat comforting. He seemed to sense this shift too, his hand gently placed at your hips, his voice teasing, “Considering how much you complain about me hogging the bathroom, you seem pretty okay standing this close to me.”

The comment took you by surprise, a rush of warmth flooding to your cheeks. You were quick to retort, attempting to mask your fluster, “Blame that on the club being crowded. If our apartment was this packed, I’d have moved out by now.”

You felt weirdly comfortable in Luke’s presence now, and it seemed he noticed. “Considering how much you complain about me hogging the bathroom, you seem pretty okay standing this close to me.” it caught you off guard and you felt a warmth rush to your cheeks. You quickly shook it off, “Blame that the club is crowded. If our apartment was this packed, I'd have moved out by now.”

Luke smirked, leaning in closer than before, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “Or maybe you’ve just realized how much you actually enjoy my company. All these complaints might just be your way of asking for more attention.”

Caught in the unexpected closeness, you tried to maintain your composure. “Dream on, Luke. If I wanted more of your attention, I’d just lock myself in the bathroom with you,” you shot back.

“Yeah, wouldn’t you like that.” that damn smirk, you wish you could just wipe it off his face.

What. Was. Happening?

Confused and a bit flustered, you mustered up an excuse, before navigating through the lively crowd, towards Jack at the table.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jack’s voice pulled you back to reality, his tone playful as he nudged you gently.

“Fine,” you responded, rolling your eyes at the boy. “I’m having fun. But you didn’t have to make them order my favorite drink,” you laughed, giving in to his bright smile.

Jack joined in the laughter, but something in his response made it seem he was laughing at you, not with you. He tilted his head looking at you, genuinely puzzled. “I didn’t tell anyone to order your favorite drink.”

“Well, who’s in charge of the tab tonight?”

“Luke.”

The next few weeks, you tried your hardest to avoid Luke. The whole situation in the club… it was confusing, it was so unexpected but for some reason you didn’t mind the closeness that happened that night. But you couldn't face him. You even got up hours earlier than necessary to avoid the usual bathroom argument, waiting a few extra hours before class or work. It was tearing your sleep schedule apart, but it was for the best.

Your eyes were glued to the bright screen of your phone – 3AM. You let out a frustrated sigh, you couldn’t sleep. The room felt like an oven, the early arrival of summer in New Jersey wrapping your space in an unbearable warmth. Stress of upcoming exams layed heavy on your subconscious. And the thought of having to get up in two hours just to avoid Luke, didn’t help much either.

Defeated, you pushed yourself out of bed, sliding into your fluffy slippers. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you sighed, you looked a mess. Hair tied up in a messy bun, and Jack’s New Jersey Devils t-shirt hanging loosely around you. Whatever. At this ungodly hour, no one would see you anyways, and the boys probably have early morning practice.

Carefully, you pushed the door open, trying to minimize the telltale creak. With light steps, you tiptoed down the hallway, aiming for the kitchen. The gentle illumination from the counter lights greeted you, casting a soft, inviting glow over the room – Jack must’ve left it on. However, the comfort quickly turned to your dismay when you spotted the very person you’d tried so hard to avoid for weeks on end – Luke. His back was turned, curls messy, and a pair of pajama pants loosely hanging around his waist. His back muscles, his shoulders, all on display.

The sight of him triggered an immediate response – you knew you needed to get out of there before he noticed you. You turned your heel, your slippers betraying you with a sharp squeak against the floor.

“Going somewhere?”

You cleared your throat, gathering the courage to face him as you slowly turned around. There he was, casually leaning against the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal cradled in his hands – his midnight snack. “Just needed some water. Didn’t realize I had company,” you managed to say, trying to sound nonchalant.

He let out a soft chuckle, the spoon in his bowl making lazy circles. “Can’t sleep either, huh? The kitchen’s open for all, y’know.” I mean he wasn’t wrong. Despite your efforts to maintain a distance, you did live together, and spaces like the kitchen were neutral ground, even at 3AM.

“Yeah, I… I guess I’ll just grab that water then.” navigating the awkward silence towering the room, you reached for a glass, making your way to the sink – coincidentally right beside where Luke was enjoying his cereal. His presence was towering over you as you filled the glass with water.

“You know, for two people who claim to dislike each other, we do end up in the same place a lot.” Luke observed with a smirk that you felt rather than saw.

You scoffed, attempting to maintain a facade of indifference. “We live in the same apartment Luke, and your brother is my best friend. Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“Well, you’re wearing my t-shirt, so don't blame me,” he countered.

You huffed, caught off guard. “This is Jack’s.”

He chuckled lightly, “I’ve been looking for it for weeks, thought I lost it. But now I know you just wanted to feel like you were sleeping next to me.”

You let out a scoff, annoyed, “In your dreams, asshole.”

He stepped closer, reducing the distance between you to mere inches. “Y’know, you could’ve just asked. I’d gladly let you sleep in bed with me,” he said, the smirk evident in his voice as he towered over you.

Your heart was racing, your voice caught in your throat at the sudden proximity. In a moment of panic, you retreated, mumbling an incoherent “I have to go,” as you hastily made your escape.

The usual calm and comfortable space of your apartment, was tonight transformed into a space buzzing with energy, laughter, and booze. It was Jack’s birthday, and as his best friend you were determined to throw him the best celebration possible – a surprise party. You pulled out all the stops, inviting friends, his teammates, and with the off-season granting a rare break, Trevor, Cole, and Alex were able to join the festivities. As you navigate the cluster of people, a glass nestled gently in your grasp, your gaze inadvertently landed on Luke. There he was, nestled in a corner of the room, deeply engrossed in conversation. By his side stood a girl whose laughter harmonized so seamlessly with his, it almost seemed choreographed.

A strange unease began to coil within you at the sight. There was Luke, entirely absorbed in dialogue with whoever this girl was, and something about it unsettled you deeply.

“Seems like Luke’s really hit it off huh,?” Trevor’s voice cut through the hum of the party, his tone playful yet pointed as he caught your fixed gaze and gave a teasing nudge.

“Yeah, looks like it,” you found yourself responding, striving for indifference even as you couldn’t tear your eyes away. You weren’t sure why, but the observation felt like it lodged itself in your chest.

Jack’s laughter soon joined in, bright and unaware of the subtle tension you felt. He slapped your shoulder genially, “Luke’s always been a charmer. Who’s the lucky lady this time?”

You attempted a noncommittal shrug, trying to shake off the knot forming inside. “No idea.”

“This is nice isn’t it,” Jack's voice cut through the comfortable hum of the city. The sun was shining, pouring its warmth over Jersey City, a gentle breeze complemented the heat perfectly.

The sun was shining, it was warm outside accompanied with a gentle comfortable breeze. It was a great day in Jersey city.

As you wandered through the city with Jack, it felt like old times, just the two of you. His excitement was contagious, sparking a lightness that you had been missing for too long.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. And we live together,” he joked playfully nudging you, but you could sense the underlying truth in his words – he genuinely missed these moments together.

And he was right; it had been a while. The efforts you’d put into avoiding Luke eventually affected Jack as well, as the two of them shared basically the same schedule. You didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were avoiding luke and then possibly having to explain why.

“Yeah, I’ve missed this, it’s just that I've been drowning in school work lately.” It was a bad excuse, but it was the best and most realistic you could come up with.

Deciding to take advantage of the beautiful weather, you suggested heading to one of your favorite cafes. The idea of soaking up some sun while catching up seemed perfect. Once you found a spot in the outdoor seating area, you offered to go in and order for the two of you. By the time you returned with two coffees, the dynamic at your table had unexpectedly changed. Two additional figures were now seated beside Jack, their curls a dead giveaway – you recognised those curls anywhere. A sigh escaped your lips as Jack, beaming with enthusiasm, gestured towards them. “Hey, Y/N! Look who I found!” The two ‘curlyheads’ turned to face you, John and Luke greeting you with smiles, with Luke’s carrying his signature, teasing smirk.

Reluctantly, you settled into the chair next to Jack, putting up your best efforts to remain composed, polite, and NOT awkward. The conversation flowed effortlessly, but you, you remained quiet. Occasionally offering a nod and a brief reply. Your eyes shifted between John and Jack, effectively avoiding Luke, as if by ignoring Luke, you could somehow make the situation less complicated.

Eventually, John and Luke made their casual exit. You managed a tight smile and a polite wave, holding on to the facade of composure until they were out of sight. The moment they were gone, Jack’s attention snapped back to you, his brows furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “Why were you acting so weird?”

Suddenly, the cafe’s cozy outdoor setting felt more like an interrogation room, and you were in the spotlight.

“Wha-what do you mean,” your voice wavered despite the smile you plastered on. “I wasn’t being weird.” you countered, hoping the denial sounded more convincing to his ears than it did to yours.

Jack’s eyes widened in shock, as if he had just cracked the code. The revelation seemed to knock him off balance, almost sending him tumbling from his chair. “Oh my god,” he whispered, a mix of genuine shock and amusement in his voice, as a chuckle broke free. “You’re sleeping with John, aren’t you?”

A wave of relief washed over you at his misinterpretation. I mean it's better than to tell him about Luke, right? In the end Jack is still his older brother, and you couldn’t risk jeopardizing your friendship with Jack, even if whatever was going on with Luke meant something.

Caught between the fear of losing your closest friend and the chaos of the moment, you found yourself nodding along before the word “yes” tumbled out. And now, you possibly just made your situation even worse.

Once again, you found yourself at a bar with Jack and his teammates. The night a farewell toast before everyone dispersed for the off-season. The bar buzzed with a contagious mix of laughter and the clinking of glasses, everyone enjoying each other's company before leaving. Throughout the evening, you’d successfully avoided both Luke and John, navigating the minefield of awkward encounters. You also may have indulged in a few too many drinks to steady your nerves.

Finding yourself back at the bar for yet another round of liquid courage, you sensed someone approaching. Turning, it wasn’t Luke’s familiar curls, but John’s. You managed a somewhat forced smile as he settled down beside him. “Hey Y/N having fun?” he asked, his smile was radiating, infectious.

You nervously accepted your drink as it arrived, taking a sip that was perhaps a bit too eager. “Yeah, it’s great hanging out with you guys!”

An awkward silence fell upon you, filled by only the sounds of your silent sipping your respective drinks. John’s laughter cut through the silence, laughing at the obvious awkward situation, breaking the ice with ease. “Y’know Jack’s been chirping me relentlessly tonight. Mentioning something… interesting, about us.” you groaned, mentally facepalming yourself.

With a playful gesture, he pointed a finger between the two of you, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement. “Did… did we sleep together one night and I forgot?”

“No no no.” you rushed to clarify, flailing your hands around desperate to clear up the situation. John is, of course, handsome, and after a few too many drinks on a night out, it may have happened under other circumstances. You both burst out in laughter at the situation, dissolving any lingering awkwardness.

John dramatically placed a hand over his heart in relief. “Phew, good. Don’t want Luke getting all jealous on me.” your laughter echoed his, agreeing wholeheartedly until his words fully registered – you never mentioned Luke. “What did you say?”

John merely winked and offered a pat on your shoulder before making his exit, leaving you at the bar, more puzzled than ever.

As the evening unfolded, the flow of drinks seemed never-ending, each one blurring into the next until the vibrant energy of the bar felt like a distant hum. Suddenly, you found yourself seated in the passenger side of a car, the light of New Jersey streaking past in a dizzying display. Barely able to keep your eyes open in your drunken state you looked over to the driver's seat – Luke. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be driving,” you slurred.

“I was sober tonight Y/N. And you… you were way too drunk, we’re going home,” Luke responded. His tone lacked its usual lightness, replaced by a firm blunt response. The drive was engulfed in silence, a tension hanging in the air that even your drunken haze couldn’t miss.

“So, cozying up with John,” Luke remarked, a hint of something indefinable in his tone.

Luke had seen you at the bar. His voice carried a weight, similar to the unease you felt when you saw him with that girl at Jack’s birthday.

Words failed you as you tried to respons, a string of incoherent mumbles and half-words coming out of your mouth. You felt like you were burning up, put on the spot, panicking. “Trying to make me jealous?” You blinked in shock at his question. There was no hint of anger in Luke’s voice; instead, he sounded amused. You could almost feel his smirk.

As you finally mustered up the courage to face him, there it was – that infuriating, captivating smirk. Part of you wanted to punch it off his face, yet another part was inexplicably drawn to it. “I… I wasn’t…” you stuttered, struggling to articulate your thoughts. Luke let out a soft chuckle, his hand leaving the steering wheel, landing comfortably on your thigh.

“I’ll admit, I got a bit jealous. But i know John wouldn’t do that to me,” he said, giving you a gentle squeeze. You were totally lost. Luke was jealous? Why? You weren’t trying to make him jealous. Your intentions had been the polar opposite – you were trying to avoid him. And here you were, alone, in the car, with Luke.

“And I know you wouldn’t do that either. You’re too charmed by me, aren’t you.” The car came to a stop, you were outside the apartment. Luke finally turned to meet your gaze. His question hung in the air, you didn’t know what to say. You weren’t interested in Luke, at all. You were just confused, right?

“Is that the reason why you’ve been avoiding me?” His words struck a nerve, he knew. He knew, that you’d been in fact avoiding him. You found yourself locked in his gaze, unable to pry your eyes away from his. Luke didn’t look away either, it was as if he was uncovering every secret, exploring every inch of you with his eyes.

In a swift, almost breathless moment, he leaned over, his lips finding yours. The kiss caught you by surprise, yet the thought of pulling away never crossed your mind. Instead, you found yourself surrendering – melting into the warmth of his lips. Your hand instinctively found its way to his curls, fingers weaving through them, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.

You were moving in perfect sync.

His hand reached out, unlatching your seatbelt, freeing your from its restraint. With an ease of urgency, you climbed over the midconsole, never losing the precious contact between the two of you.

His hands found their way to your hips, finger pressing into the soft fabric of your clothes, pulling you even closer. Arching your back at the contact, your clothed core merely inches away from him, only your clothes separating you. Intoxication swept over you, but it wasn’t the alcohol swirling through your veins that left you dizzy – it was Luke. it was the touch of his hands roaming around your body, the feeling of his lips on yours, it was him. And you needed more. Your hands seemed to take on a life of their own, grasping at his shoulders, tugging at his curls, wrapping around his neck – anything to be closer to Luke.

Lost in the moment, straddling Luke in the drivers seat as you deepened the kiss. His hands on your hips, pulling you closer as you grind against him, feeling him harden beneath you. The friction was maddening, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the second.

You simply couldn’t help yourself.

With a groan, Luke pulls away, leaving you both gasping for air. But the respite is short-lived as you felt Luke’s fingers grazing your inner thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He hooked his fingers under the edge of your panties, pulling them to the side. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape as he slips inside, his fingers finding your clit with ease.

But you can’t, you’d been wanting this, needing this, needing him. Needing Luke.

You let out a soft moan, giving yourself over to the feeling of his fingers exploring your most sensitive area. At first, Luke’s fingers moved in small, teasing circles, bareuly brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, just watching you fall apart on top of him.

In the haze of pleasure, you found yourself drawn to Luke’s eyes. They were dark, intense, however, there was a hint of care, and maybe even love, taking in every moment of your reaction to his touch.

You couldn’t look away if you tried. Trapped in his gaze, the car filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and whimpers – you didn’t want to escape.

Luke’s eyes never left yours, watching with rapt attention as your breath hitched in your throat. Your face flushed, eyes closed tight, feeling the pressure building inside you. Luke’s fingers sped up, pressing harder against your clit.

Suddenly, your vision faded, the orgasm tearing through you like a wildfire, your body shaking with the force of your release.

Collapsing on top of him, your breath coming in short, sharp, gasp as you tried to catch your breath. Luke pushed away the mess of your hair, gently caressing your chin, tilting your face so you could meet his gaze. He was smiling, not the usual shit eating smirk, but smiling with genuine care and affection.

What just happened?

#luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #lh43 #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes x you

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 3 months

Text

do you want to be my valentine?

steve harrington x gn!reader

“do you want to be my valentine?”

six years old. with chubby knees and chubby cherub cheeks to match. dressed by your mother in shades of pink and red, holding out a handmade pink paper card. splattered in too much glitter and messily cut hearts sloppily glued down.

your valentine, a boy who turns seven in two months, stares at you with wide brown eyes. he also has light freckles scattered over his face, your mom said beauty marks were from past lives.

“yeah, sure!” steve smiles with delight. your heart beat quickens it’s pulse at the high pitched reply.

do you want to be my valentine?

few years later turning you from six to thirteen.

steve didn’t show up to school today, so you biked to his home once the bell rang loudly. sure the idea of handing out cards was childish now in your pre-teen years, but you always give one to steve and he always excepts with delight.

do you want to be my valentine?

hawkins middle changes into hawkins high school. now at the age of seventeen boy were dumb, like always, but now horny was attached. steve surrounded himself with jackass friends and girls that happily flung themselves at him.

you weren’t even a thought once he became ‘the king’. you gifted him a valentine in sophomore year, sliding the envelope into his locker. you watched as he walked with his friends durning passing period and stopped at his last. carol and tommy started making fun of him when the red paper fell to the floor.

so for the first time, you didn’t ask steve to be your valentine. and don’t plan to in the coming years.

do you want to be my valentine?

scoops was having a week long sale for a valentine’s themed desert. the s s cupid. strawberry ice cream topped with chocolate syrup, pink and white sprinkles and a dollop of whipped cream.

you’ve had to stand and watch as couples feed each other. you wanted to smash their faces into the sugary delights.

your just jealous. jealous they have someone while you daydream about harrington. who you work with while slowly rekindling your friendship.

robin, your new friend, says steve’s ‘got it bad for you’ her words. you just brush her off and ignore the warmth covering your ears.

during your lunch, steve sets a s s cupid in front of you and your homemade sandwich.

“what’s this?” raising a brow at the tooth ache treat.

steve sat in the chair across from you, a pink tint on his apples. “special treat for a special someone.” his fingers curled around the table edge.

now both brows raised, “oh? so i’m a special someone to you, harrington?” trying to tease steve while digging your spoon into the softening ice cream.

“well yeah.” he shrugged, “you’re my first valentine and haven’t done… that, in a few years. so, i have a question.” you could see the edge leaving steve each second.

“what’s the question?” scooping ice cream into your mouth, watching steve who watches you.

he took a deep swallow, his adam’s apple bobbing, “i was wondering, and hoping, if you’d like to be my valentine this year? and hopefully many more in the future?”

you couldn’t help your smile, “got tired of being asked?”

now steve smiled, “no, i liked being asked. by you and only you and then you stopped and- and it sucked. and it made me realize how much i like having those two things in my life.” he reached his arm across the table, fingers seeking out your own.

you hesitated before grazing your fingertips over his then linking hands together. “i missed asking you every year.”

steve grinned brightly, “you can ask every year. when ever you want.”

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x gn!reader

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wildernessuntothemselves · 7 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 2

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 6.3

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, dry humping, degradation, dom!reader, sub!beomgyu, fleshlights, beomgyu being a perv and using oc's panties

You step into the apartment, hoping against hope that you won’t find Beomgyu in there. It’s been a few days since your fight, and you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder–ignoring his text messages, giving him one-word replies whenever he speaks to you, pretending you’re too busy to continue the marathon of whatever stupid show you were currently watching–and every time you do that, he’d look so heartbroken you have to fight for your life to not forgive him then and there.

But fate hates you, or maybe it was by Beomgyu’s design, because as soon as you step into the living room, you see Beomgyu on the couch, fiddling with his guitar. He looks up when he hears you enter.

You try to make a run for it, sight set on your bedroom door, but Beomgyu quickly springs up and calls your name. “Wait! I wanna talk to you.”

“Well, I don't wanna talk to you.” You mutter, bee-lining towards your room, but Beomgyu is quicker. It only takes him a couple of large steps to put himself between you and your bedroom door.

“Please!” He begs. “Just talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.” You try to push past him but he won’t budge.

“No, please, listen. I’m sorry for kissing you. I was just… I never got an A before. I didn’t think I could get an A. You know me. You know how everyone thinks that I’m so stupid. I know you think that I’m stupid. It just meant a lot to me. I was so excited to show you that I’m not always such a dumbass.”

You sigh. "I know you're not a dumbass."

“But I am. I’m such a dumbass and I’m so sorry for kissing you but please don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” You stare at him incredulously. “Beommie, I’m not going to leave you. What makes you think I would?”

“Well you haven’t been talking to me. I thought you were done with me.” He says glumly and you laugh. “No, silly. I was just giving you the silent treatment. Never heard of it?”

"So we’re still friends?" He asks hopefully, tears in his eyes, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Of course, we are. Don't be silly." You reach out to run a hand through his hair, and he happily leans into your touch. "Okay. Promise me we'll never stop being friends. I can't lose you."

You hesitate. This is why he can’t know you’re in love with him. It would ruin you. "I promise." .

“Good.” He gives a big sigh of relief before he throws you a mischievous grin. “Are you going to come see me practice for the big gig today? I need my groupie.”

You smack his shoulder. “I’m not your groupie.”

“You can be. Maybe we can sneak off and mess around backstage.” He pulls you by the hips and rests his forehead against yours but doesn't attempt to kiss you.

"Beommie… I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?” He whines like a brat, “I won’t try to kiss you again, I promise. I'll be your good boy."

God, the things those simple words do to you. You could never have imagined the man you’ve thirsted after for years acting so needy for you, but you can’t let this go on any longer. It fucking killed you to have him kiss you, knowing it didn’t mean the same to him as it did to you. If you keep this up, you’ll only open yourself up for more hurt. You have to protect yourself.

"I just don't want us to get mad at each other again."

"We won't." He tries to reassure you, but you put a hand to his chest and push him away. "No, gyu. It was fun but we can’t do this anymore.”

He grabs your hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a kiss against your palm, making your heart flutter. "Then what's going to motivate me to do good?"

"Ice cream?" You suggest, taking your hand away, and he groans. “What’s rock and roll about that?”

You snort. “Your band name is tomorrow by together. There is nothing rock and roll about you guys.”

“Okay, ouch. Groupie invitation revoked.”

__________________

Watching Beomgyu play his guitar is like watching magic happen. Even when he messes up or is struggling–the way he’s just so immersed and serious about his craft is so inspiring and you feel so lucky to be able to witness it.

It was a moment like this–seeing him so lost in the music–when you first realized you’re in love with him. And now, a few years later, that love has only grown stronger.

“He really is an idiot.” You hear a familiar voice next to you and look to the side to see Yeonjun also looking at Beomgyu.

“What do you mean?”

“If I had a girl look at me the way you’re looking at him, I would never let her go.” He says so casually as if he hadn’t just exposed your entire guts out to the world.

“What–-why would you–I–” You sputter, getting even more flustered at the amused look on his face. Damn him. You take a moment to recollect yourself. “Don’t be silly, Yeonjun. We’re just friends.”

“Are you? Then how come you won’t go out with me?”

You roll your eyes. “Have you ever considered that you just might not be my type?”

He raises an eyebrow at you, looking at you like he doesn’t believe it for a second. “Oh, please, I’m everyone’s type. What, you don’t like tall, handsome men? Lead singers? Really talented lovers?”

You suppress the blush his last comment intended to entice in you. “I already told you. I can’t go out with a guy who will flirt more with his fans than me.”

“Aw, are you jealous, baby? You know I can clean my act up for you.” He moves to get closer to you, his hand reaching out to wrap around you, when suddenly Beomgyu steps in between you two. “Leave her alone, Yeonjun.”

“Why? She likes it.” Yeonjun grins, sending you a wink, and you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh. Yeonjun tries to reach out to mess up your hair in revenge, but Beomgyu intercepts him.

“No, she doesn’t. Now, leave.”

“Alright. Alright. Chill. I’ll leave for now but if you’re not gonna snatch her up then don’t blame me for trying.” He sends you a wink, making you blush. “See you later, doll.”

You bite your lip, staring at the ground to try to get your blush under control. You don’t like Yeonjun like that. Well, at least not near as much as you like Beomgyu, but you still can’t help the effect he has on you. He’s just so charming, and if you hadn’t been so absolutely in love with Beomgyu, you would’ve definitely been under him long ago.

“You really shouldn’t encourage him.” Beomgyu says irritably, “You know he’s a manwhore.”

You shrug. “I know but it’s still nice to have a man’s attention.”

“Hey, you have my attention.” He protests, and you stay silent, giving him a cryptic look.

“What?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you shake your head, dispelling any stupid thoughts of confessing your undying love for him. “Nothing. It’s just not the same. You’re my best friend. He could be something more.”

“Oh.” Beomgyu steps back, frowning. “Um…okay. I understand that, but do you really need it from Yeonjun? I just… he’s my bandmate, you know?”

“I know.” You say, even though you really don’t. Why should that matter? “But he’s sweet and charming–”

Beomgyu groans, cutting you off. “Please. Anyone but Yeonjun.”

“Beomgyu—”

“Please.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

You don’t know why it matters so much to him but you honestly don’t care. It’s not like you have your eyes on Yeonjun or anyone else but Beomgyu. You’re hopeless anyway.

__________________

You and Beomgyu have easily settled back into your old routine, pre-hooking up. Like right now, you’re cuddled up on his bed watching a movie as if nothing had ever happened–as if you’ve never touched him–as if just the feeling of his body wrapped around yours isn’t scorching your skin.

“I can’t believe we’re watching this stupid movie again.” You groan, shoveling popcorn into your mouth.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that Top Gun is one of the greatest pieces of cinema ever made.” He defends his favorite movie fiercely.

“The greatest bore ever made you mean.” You grumble and he kicks your leg. “Shut up. I don’t insult your stupid horror movies when you make me watch them.”

“You just did!” You retort, and he scoffs. “Well they’re stupid.”

“Whatever. We’re watching The Shining after this.”

“No we’re not!” He protests heatedly, and you answer back just as passionately. “Why not? We agreed we would watch one movie horribly picked by you, and another very superiorly picked by me.”

He looks down at his hands, mumbling quietly. “You know those twins freak me out. I won’t be able to sleep for a week if we watch that.”

“Aw, Beommie.” You coo, propping a finger under his chin to make him look up at you. “Well tough luck, wuss. We’re watching it.”

“I hate you.” He whines, burying his face into your neck.

Yup, all back to normal. You don’t want to cry because just the light brush of his breath against your skin sends your nervous system into overdrive. Nope. You’re all good. Just two friends watching a terrible movie.

_______________________________

For a guy who just said he’s so afraid of The Shining, he won’t be able to sleep, he sure is sleeping very soundly right now.

You glare down at him. He made you sit all through that stupid movie and he’s knocked out half-way through yours. You’d wake him up and give him a severe talking to if you weren’t so incredibly, wonderfully comfortable right now. You feel so warm and toasty with his long body wrapped around you like this, and the view you have–his face resting against your chest so close you can count his eyelashes… it was heaven for you. You suppose you’ll let him sleep for a bit more.

Maybe you should get some shut-eye too. You’ve been so tired staying up all night studying for the test you took earlier this morning that you can’t help dozing off yourself, his embrace more comfortable than a bed of clouds to you.

You were feeling so fucking peaceful, the weight of sleep helping to push down all your negative feelings that you don’t even pay much attention to Beomgyu’s repeated movements at first, just chalking them up to him shifting around to try to get comfortable like you.

Sure, it was taking longer than was reasonable and he was pressing himself closer and closer to you each time, but it’s not like you were going to complain. The closer to Beomgyu, the better, right? It’s only when you feel something hard pushing up against your thigh that you realize what exactly is happening.

"Beommie, what are you doing?" You mutter sleepily.

He goes rigid and it takes him a while to respond. "...nothing."

You would have let it go if you didn’t still feel his hard cock against you. “Oh, really?” You challenge, moving your thigh up against him, ripping a deep groan from his throat. “Then what is this?”

“Okay, okay, I really missed you.” He groans, wrapping his entire body around you. “And you just felt too good against me.”

You scoff. “Have you no self control?” You ask even as you move your thigh against his cock.

“No.” He admits, full on humping you. “Just need you.”

“Beomgyu…” You pretend to hesitate, not wanting to let him off the hook quite so easily, not wanting him to see how much you need him too.

“Please, baby.” He begs, voice even deeper with sleep and all husky. That was your undoing.

“Fine. You can keep going, fuck me.” You ‘finally’ relent, but the spoiled brat isn’t content with that. He tries to pull your shorts down. “Can I actually fuck you?”

“No! I meant you can fuck my thigh.” You clarify, silencing his emerging protests with your finger in his mouth. “It’s bad enough that I’m letting you hump me like a rabid dog. You don’t get more.”

“But this is so humiliating.” He whines through your finger before burying his face against your shoulder as he continues to vigorously dry hump you, miming fucking you the best he can.

"I've seen you hump your body pillow before– More times than I would have liked– This is an upgrade for you, you pervert."

"You're so mean." He whines again and you snort. "I'm helping get your virgin ass off. How am I mean?"

“You’re just so mean.” He cries, grinding fervently against you.

“And you’ve gone brain-dead again.” You laugh, “Come on, baby. Just focus on getting off. You’re almost there aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come on. I want to feel you cumming against my thigh. It would be really fucking sexy.” You drawl, pulling his head back so he can look at you.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.” You trace a finger over his perfect lips, resisting the urge to kiss them. Fuck, now that you’ve had a taste, it’s like you’ve developed a craving to them. This is why you should have never let him kiss you. “You’re so pretty, wanna see you lose control.”

“Okay–okay… if you want it.” He stares at you deeply, and you nod.

“I really do.” You murmur, “Want you to cum all over yourself for me.”

“You’re so fucking dirty.” He growls, pushing your legs open and pressing himself between your them so he’s humping your pussy instead of your thigh.

“Hey! Bad boy!” You screech, stuttering when his cock brushes against your clit. Your hand goes out to grab him by the hair. “Bad b-boy.”

“Please, please, don’t make me let go.” He pants, his hips driving into yours roughly. “I’m almost there. Gonna cum for you, pretty.”

You hesitate at the nickname, loosening your grip.

"No, pull my hair harder. I like it when you’re rough with me."

"Now who's the dirty one?"

"I can't help it." He sucks in a sharp breath, "You drive me crazy."

Well, that makes two of you.

"Fuck, Beommie." You gasp, pulling on his hair and making him lose it. The way his cock is grinding against your clit making you reach the edge yourself. If he keeps this up, you might actually…

"Oh god, yes, yes, fuck!' He shudders and can tell by the warmth soaking his pants and the way he presses his hips snug against yours that he had orgasmed.

Oh well, so much for that.

"Did… did you cum?" He asks once he had caught his breath a bit.

"No." You admit awkwardly, a little breathless yourself, and he looks disappointed. "It's okay, I'll take care of it."

"But I wanna do it." He whines. “Let me.”

"No, Beomgyu." You refuse to let him feel how wet you are right now. He can’t know how much you want him. You can’t let him touch you because if he did, you don’t know if you would ever get enough.

"Why not?” He huffs, annoyed. “Why don't you want me to touch you? Do you find me so repulsive?"

"Don't be ridiculous.” You grit out. How very Beomgyu to be this oblivious. “You’re very handsome.”

"You clearly don't think so. Otherwise you wouldn't freak out every time I try to touch you." He snaps, “Listen, I know I’m no Yeonjun, but you don’t have to make me feel so hideous.”

“This has nothing to do with Yeonjun or you, you ass.” You lie through your teeth. "I'm just not ready to let anyone touch me yet, okay? Unlike you I’m not just looking to get my rocks off. This actually means something to me.”

“So it’s okay to meaninglessly get someone off but it’s not okay to let them get you off too?” He calls you out on your flawed logic.

“Yes.” You double down anyway, and he opens his mouth to argue but you beat him to it, realizing you need to end this discussion before you say something stupid. “See? This is exactly why I didn’t want us to hook up again. Maybe we should–”

“No, no! Fine, I’ll back off.” He puts his hands up in the air, literally backing off. “I won’t try to touch you or kiss you or do anything to you anymore. Only you can do what you want.”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please! I really don’t want this to end. It feels good being with you.” He pleads. God, he has no idea what he’s doing to you. It’s unfair that he has this much effect on you and he doesn’t even know it.

You really shouldn’t say yes. This is only going to end in disaster, if you say yes.

“Fine.”

____________

“I can’t do this. I can’t. I’m just going to go home.” Beomgyu exclaims, freaking out in his small dressing room. He and his band have been invited to play at one of the most popular spots in town. It’s a huge opportunity for them, and so naturally it comes with a great deal of pressure, which Beomgyu is definitely feeling.

“No! You can’t!” You intercept him, holding onto him tightly so he won’t escape. “You’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for years! You can’t just go.”

“But I am freaking out. I am going to make a fool of myself if I go on that stage. I know I will.” He cries, looking at you with pure panic in his eyes that is actually contagious. But you fight to keep in control of yourself. You have to be the rational one for him.

“You are going to do great–”

“You don’t know that. They will hate me. They’re boo me. Oh, god, they’re going to throw things at me. I have to go. I have to–”

You grab his face and kiss him, shutting him up, and even though this time you’re prepared for the kiss, the feel of his lips still takes you off guard. There is nothing in the world that could prepare you for the electricity you feel whenever your lips touch, and this time when you hold onto him, it’s to keep yourself from falling to the ground.

“You won’t.” You tell him once you bring yourself to pull away from the kiss. Or once you run out of oxygen that is. “You’re the most talented musician I know. I know you’re freaking out right now but once you’re out there, you’re going to put on the greatest show those people have ever seen. I know you will, because you’re that good!”

“You kissed me.” He mumbles, confused.

“Well, you wouldn’t shut up.” You mutter nervously.

“Right.” He clears his throat, and it’s silent for a few seconds before he looks at you shyly. “You really think I’m the most talented musician, you know?”

“I know you are.” You say truthfully.

“Even more than Yeonjun?” He asks and you roll your eyes. “Even more than Yeonjun.”

He grins widely, triumphant. “Okay. I will go out there and show those fuckers how it’s done.” He says confidently, taking a step towards the stage before he quickly doubles back. “But before I go… another kiss for good luck?”

Oh god, you’re being put through hell and you have no one to blame but yourself.

“Don’t get used to this.” You roll your eyes, pulling him into another kiss.

_________________

Beomgyu does amazing. Maybe it’s the stage lights, maybe it’s the sway of the music, maybe it’s the energy of the crowd, maybe it’s how happy he looks up there–but you’ve never been so in love with him. And so proud, and so amazed, and so bewitched.

And it seems everyone around you thinks the same. The crowd absolutely went wild for him and his band. They cheered loudly after every song. They hooted and clapped whenever one of the boys interacted with them. They enthusiastically answered their questions and followed their requests. It all went so well, you just know this gig has secured them many more in the future, and you like to think that you helped in your own way, by keeping the lead guitarist from running away before the concert.

Said guitarist grabs you and hauls you off the ground in a suffocating hug as soon as he sees you backstage. “Did you see that? Did you hear how loudly they cheered for us?”

“So loudly I think one of my eardrums has ruptured actually.” You laugh, making a show of pulling at your ear. “You guys did so amazing, Beommie! The band absolutely blew everyone away!”

“Who cares about the band? I rocked!” He shakes you excitedly.

“Yes, you did.” You easily give in to him fishing for compliments. He deserves it. “You were the star of the show. I heard so many people around me–”

“Oh my god.” Beomgyu gasps, staring at something behind you.

“What?”

“It’s Haeun.”

You look back to see the devil herself. “Oh.”

“Beommie!” She greets him enthusiastically, coming over. Beommie? That’s your nickname for him. You’re the only one who calls him that!

“You did really well.” She enthuses, making him puff his chest out like a goddamn rooster. “Y-you l-liked it?”

“Of course, I did. I always knew you’re so talented.”

You can’t help the snort that escapes you, and they both look at you, Beomgyu mortified and Haeun unimpressed. “Sorry, something was stuck in my throat.” You mutter, wishing the ground would swallow you up right about now.

“Anyways,” She rolls her eyes at you then pins him with a flirty look so thick you think you could actually suffocate on it “What I was saying is that you looked really good up there.”

He gulps, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She coos, stepping closer to him and running her hand down his arm through his sleeveless shirt until she reaches his hand and pulls it up, playing with his fingers. “You really know how to finger those strings, huh? I wonder if the guitar is the only thing you can play?”

Once again, you can’t keep in the noise of disgust that came from deep within you, but this time neither Beomgyu nor her pay any attention to you.

“Uh—well—I–” He stutters dumbly. Typical.

“Why don’t you and the band come to the party I am hosting Friday? Maybe you can show me those moves up close?” She winks at him.

“Hell y-yeah. I’ll be there.” He chokes out and she smiles widely. “Great. See you then.” She leans in to press a kiss to his cheek and you almost reach out to scratch her eyes out but you contain yourself.

She gives you one last snobby look before throwing her hair back and walking off. Beomgyu stares after her, dazed. "Am I crazy or did she just flirt with me?"

“Come on, Beomgyu, apes are more subtle than her.” You grumble, the fire of jealousy consuming your insides. “Anyways, you know she’s only doing this because you’re becoming successful, right? She always treated you as a loser before, never giving you the time of day, but now suddenly that you gain a shred of popularity, she starts liking you?"

"Oh." He pauses for a second, and you reach out to pat his back, wishing to comfort him, when he breaks into a huge grin. “So what you’re saying is that I’m popular and she likes me? Awesome!”

“Ugh.” You storm away, followed behind by a confused Beomgyu.

________________

“Since I did really well today, don’t I deserve a reward?” Beomgyu grabs you as soon as you’re back at your apartment, pulling you flush against him and trying to kiss you.

Now, you would have loved to give in. That kiss you shared earlier still tingles at your lips, but not after what he did. The nerve of him after slobbering all over another woman in front of you!

“Wait until the party, maybe she’ll give you your reward.” You push him away, disgusted at the thought of it. But Beomgyu continues proving to you why he easily wins the title of least aware person in the entire universe. “But I want my reward now.”

“God, Beomgyu, you really know how to turn a girl on.” You growl, shoving him out of your way. “Go to sleep.”

"What's your problem?" You hear him ask before you slam the door shut.

You rip your clothes off–band merch you wore to support the idiot–and put on a long shirt. Which as soon as you settle under the covers, you discover actually belongs to him, his scent all over it and drowning you in unwanted feelings.

You don’t care that she came on to him. You don’t care that she invited him to her party. You don’t care that he’ll probably go and she’ll make a move on him and he’ll fall deeper in love with her and she’ll have him all wrapped around her finger and–

Okay, you care. You care too much. You can’t handle the thought of it any longer, but you can’t reveal your real feelings. It will be the end of you. No, you have to bottle it all down.

‘You can’t let it show.’ You think to yourself as you curl into a ball, shutting out the outside world and even your own memories, trying to just be claimed by sleep.

But the world isn’t that fair, and through your curled form you can hear the sound of Beomgyu moaning out. You can’t quite hear what he’s saying but you’ve heard him enough times to know exactly what he’s doing.

You bet he’s thinking of her. You bet he’s imagining fingering her. You can’t allow that. Not while you’re lying here breaking over him.

You throw the covers off you and storm to his room, bursting the door open.

“Hey!” He cries out, trying to cover his junk.

You roll your eyes. “It’s just me. No need to freak out.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you from my room.” You say plainly. “You weren't exactly subtle. Now let me see.”

“But I thought you–”

“Do you want it or not?”

He only hesitates for a second, the whore, before he throws the blanket away. You roll your eyes, getting onto the bed and grabbing his dick, pumping it in your hand. He immediately flops back, relaxing into your touch. “Oh god, I needed this.”

"Yeah? Got all horny from the way everyone was eyeing you up? You know you really gave Yeonjun a run for his money with how slutty you were acting." You mutter bitterly. Yes, you enjoyed the show, but it wasn’t only Haeun eyeing him up.

Beomgyu glares at you. "Can we not talk about him while you're fisting my cock?"

“Whatever.” You brush him off, focused on something else right now. "So, thinking of fucking any of your new fans?"

“Hmmm.” He mumbles, and you can see from the way his eyes have gone all glazed that he’s not paying attention. “You. I really wanna fuck you.” He thrusts into your hand, whining.

"You wish."

"I really do." He breathes out, and your own breath stutters. Man, this is dangerous but you can’t stop. You speed up your movement, making Beomgyu wince.

“Wait, dry, dry, hurts.” Beomgyu whines at the chafing feeling, and you almost feel bad for him if it weren’t for his next words. “Why don’t you put it in your mouth to get it wet?”

You snort, seeing right through him. “You’re not slick, gyu.”

“But it really is dry.” He pouts, making a show of expressing his pain as you continue to jerk him off, and you sigh, removing your hand. “Where is your lube?”

“In your mouth.” He replies like a smartass and you pin him down with a glare. “I can always stop, you know?”

“Okay, okay, it’s in the drawer.” He gives up, pointing to his bedside cabinet, and you quickly look away from his adorable pout, knowing if you look at it too long you’d just give him everything he wants.

“What the fuck is this?” You pause in your tracks once you open up the drawer.

“What?” He asks, a confused look on his face that quickly turns to horror once he sees what you’ve fished out of the drawer.

You hold up a fleshlight and a pair of panties silently, waiting for him to explain. Panties that you know too well, your own fucking panties in fact.

“I can explain.”

“Yes, please. Explain to me how you’re such a massive pervert who steals his best friend’s panties so he can jerk off with them.”

“You’re not just my best friend.” He protests lamely and your stupid heart swells up against your best efforts, only for him to smash it to pieces again. “We mess around and you get me so horny, I can't help but imagine what you'd feel like. But I know you don't want that so I had to get creative."

Well, it’s still a compliment, right? He’s jerking off with your panties, not hers. Then again, you’re his roommate and he has easier access to your underwear.

You throw the items at him. “Show me what you do with them.”

"But I don't wanna… I want you." He whimpers, leaning towards you and trying to kiss you.

"Tough luck.” You hiss, pushing him away. “I want to see."

He groans, grabbing the lube and squirting a generous amount onto the toy before pushing it in with his fingers… in and out, in and out.

Okay, that bitch may have had a point about his fingers.

"Get to it already." You snap, mouth dry.

"I'm just getting it ready, sheesh." He mutters, finally lining the toy up with his cock before moving it down his length.

"Oh…" He sighs, head falling back as the toy takes his cock.

"Feels good?" You whisper, and he nods, pulling the toy off with a wet sound, taking a second to catch his breath before pushing it down again.

"God, you're pathetic." You mutter, more to yourself than to him. You're so fucking turned on right now, you’re sure you’re more wet than that fucking toy. "Fucking a plastic pussy because you can't get laid?"

"You wanna volunteer to f-fuck me instead?" He grits out but it sounds more like a moan with how much he's struggling to not succumb to the pleasure.

“Is that what you think about when you're fucking yourself?" You ask and he hesitates, the toy slipping off his cock.

God, his cock looked so good–so hard and glistening and thick. You wanna throw that stupid toy away and take him instead… but you can't. So you grab the hand he has holding the toy and make him move it to his cock again.

He gasps as you push it back down. “Ah…y-yeah. Think about fucking you all the time.”

It takes everything in you not to put your hand between your legs and rub yourself off right now. “And what do you do with the panties?”

He freezes, a deep blush dusting his cheeks. “I don’t wanna say.”

Now that just makes you want to know all the more. “You know I can always leave?” You threaten and he groans, his hips bucking into the toy. “Stop saying that. It’s not fair.”

“Show me.” You insist and he whimpers, not looking at you as he grabs the panties with his free hand and pulls them towards his face, taking a whiff off them.

“Oh my god, you freak.” You gasp, your thighs pressing together at the obscene sight.

“No, please–”

“I didn't say you could stop.” You snap when he drops his hand and stops fucking his fleshlight.

He whimpers, bringing the cloth back to his face, his tongue peeking out to lick against the fabric.

“Fuck, you’re disgusting.”

He whines again, shaking his head. “Just wanna taste you.”

You cock your head to the side curiously. “You wanna taste me?”

“Uh-huh.” He nods dumbly, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his head at the thought of it. Well, who are you to deny him something he wants this badly?

You put your hand down your shorts, nearly making him choke as he watches you rub your soaking pussy a little bit to coat your fingers before bringing them out and holding them for him to see. You spread your fingers apart, showing him the strings of arousal between them. “You want this?”

He drops the panties and sticks his tongue out like a dog begging for a treat, his hips never ceasing their rutting into his toy, the sticky sound of his cock pushing in and out ringing against your ears. “Please…please…”

“Okay, quit drooling.” You mutter in disgust at the saliva falling onto the sheets below, and move your hand towards him. As soon as your fingers are within reach, he takes them fully into his touch, moaning out at the taste.

He sucks them off, his tongue licking up any juices in between your fingers until there is none left. Then he pants, “More…sit on my face.”

You pull your hand away, your pussy quivering at the thought but you don’t let it show. “No way. You don’t deserve it.”

“Why not? I’ve been good. Haven’t I been good?”

‘Not when you’re thirsting over her.’ You think to yourself bitterly.

“Please.”

“I said no.” You shut him down, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun of your own. Finally giving into the temptation, you slip a hand into your shorts as you watch him continue to fuck his toy.

Beomgyu groans out loud. “Oh, come on. Now you’re just teasing me.”

“How am I teasing you?” You grin, rubbing your clit as you watch him lose it over you. Yeah, this is why you continue to do this. This will be your undoing.

“You know how much I wanna touch you. Just come on up and sit on my face.”

“No.”

“Please. I can make you feel better than your fingers can. Just give me a chance.”

“Oh please, you’re a virgin, Beomgyu. I know you have no experience. I’m better off fucking myself.” You laugh at him.

“Yes, I do. Look at this.” He leans forward, pressing his fleshlight against the bed and fucking into it.

“Is that how you imagine fucking me?”

“Yeah–you always take it so well.”

Fuck, he really knows how to get you going.

You shake your head. “Well I’m not a plastic toy for you to hammer your dick into. I need to feel pleasure too.”

“Then teach me.” He cries out desperately. “You can make me do whatever you want. I won’t say no.”

“Are you whoring yourself out to me?”

“Yes. I’m your whore.” He agrees, his dick thrusting wildly into his toy, and you in turn pushing your fingers into yourself and matching his pace, pretending he’s fucking you. “Just please do something. I’m going to burst.”

“But I want you to burst, baby.” You lean closer to him, brushing your nose against his. “I like how pathetic you look cumming on yourself or in a pocket pussy. You’re such a fucking loser.”

He’s nearly gasping at this point. “Come on, please. Wouldn’t having my cock inside you feel so much better than your fingers? Just pin me down and use me the way you like. I don’t mind.”

He’s driving you fucking crazy. You’re one second away from breaking. And maybe you would have, if he hadn’t kept talking.

“Just need to feel a real pussy.”

How does he always do this? He always ruins it for himself, always reminds you that you’re just a pair of tits and a warm pussy for him. Not who he really wants, just what’s available.

You sigh heavily, taking your fingers away from your pussy. “I’m getting bored. If you don’t blow your load now, then you can do it by yourself.”

“No, no. I can do it. I’m a good boy.”

“Yeah? Are you a good, pretty slut who cums on command?” You mock him, but he doesn’t care. He wants it too bad.

“Yeah. Just–just give me a kiss.” He pleads, and seeing your face, he quickly adds. “Just a kiss and I’ll empty my balls out for you.”

Well, it’s not like this would be the most egregious mistake you’ve ever made. You’ve already kissed him. Might as well get this over with and go back to your bed so you can wallow in how you’re nothing but a warm body to him.

“Fine.” You press your lips against his and he immediately opens his mouth, his tongue licking your lips, trying to push inside. You let him, wrapping your lips around his tongue and sucking on it before brushing against it with your own tongue. Meanwhile, you sneak your hand between you, taking control of the fleshlight and pumping it rapidly over his sensitive cock, not even giving him a chance.

“Do it then. Now.” You demand, your lips still connected together with a thick string of saliva. “Oh god, oh my god, cumming, cumming baby.”

He kisses you again, muffling the noises of his climax against your mouth, and you take every bit of it like you can never get enough.

But eventually he pulls back, his high over and not needing you anymore.

“God, that was crazy.” He says at last.

“Yeah. Learned a lot about you and what you like to do behind closed doors.” You mutter, and his eyes widen.

“Listen, it’s not–”

“It’s not what I think, I know. You’re just a pervert who needed some help getting off. I get it. But next time you take one of my panties, I’m breaking your arms.”

____________________________

A/N: well I think there is one more chapter or at most two left of this series. kind of a short one. what are we thinking so far? always open to hear ideas. i just thought of an ending but i'd love to hear from you guys. maybe i'll be inspired

Taglist: @wonwooz1 @yaorzu-blog @allylikesdabee @rkivezzs @malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop

this was just a provisional taglist as i don't usually do one. it's just a few people have specifically asked to be tagged so there you go

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #tomorrow x together smut #fem!reader

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 8 months

Text

Practice On Me — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Young Azriel (twenty years old) in Windhaven. A deliciously cliche trope that’s always fun to write. You and Az are close friends, and that’s why he trusts you with a certain insecurity. And also why you come up with an interesting solution. Doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a good idea, though…

Word count: 4.5k.

Warnings: None.

These nights are cold and unforgiving.

The snow began hammering down in silent droves a couple of hours before. A thick layer of it now blankets the ground and paints the Windhaven camp a brutal white that makes you glance at the boots on your feet. Basic, brown boots that will be soaked and frozen by the time you reach your shoddy hovel of a house. You should have left at the sight of the first snowflake that kissed the ground.

But Rhysand’s mother’s cottage is warm and cosy in a way that yours isn’t. It lulls you to sit back rather than sit up, the fire crackling away in the corner and the smell of spilled ale tinging the air, Cassian’s clumsiness, of course. Your friends eyeball each other around the table, and this game of cards has been going on for too long, and you think your eyes might be growing heavy. If you don’t muster the energy to walk home now, you’ll regret it.

“I’m out.” You announce wisely, eyeing the pitiful deal of cards in your hands. You pile them atop of the table, stretching your arms above your head. The game continues around you.

Playing cards with Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel is always a little amusing — seeing them transform from boisterous, drunken fools to serious, suspicious competitors. They study each other across the top of their cards as if there are any real takings to be had by the winner — but Rhysand’s mother would have your heads if you actually gambled under her roof, so a pile of plastic buttons it is.

Certainly not an incentive to stay any longer.

You stand from your chair, earning curious looks from your three friends. To them, the night is young, at least while Rhys’s mother isn’t here to berate you about the late hour — two, three o’clock, perhaps — but to you, with an unpleasant journey across the camp still to be completed, the night is very much old and very much over.

“I’m heading home before the weather gets any worse.” You announce, plucking your jacket from the back of your chair. “Enjoy the rest of your game, ladies.”

Cassian snorts and Rhys studies his cards once more, ever the serious player, but it’s Azriel — Azriel, who places his dealt hand face-down on the table and also stands from his seat.

“I’ll walk with you.” He announces. Your other two friends don’t so much as bat an eyelash at the offer, because it’s a regular one, one you’ve heard a thousand times and one you know not to politely protest.

Azriel is your closest friend in this gods-forsaken place. And he will genuinely plunge a dagger into his heart before allowing you to brave your walk home alone.

So, you wait by the door as he shucks his jacket on, sliding warm gloves over his scarred hands. And then you’re opening the door, and a savage flurry of snow is pelting your face like it’s been waiting to attack.

“Fucking hell, close the door.” Cass grouses. “It’s glacial out there.”

As if, as Illyrians, the four of you aren’t used to the brutal temperatures. You roll your eyes at his whining and shove your hands into your pockets, before planting a boot into the thick layer of snow already on the ground. You grimace at how little protection your shoes afford you. Twenty years you’ve lived here. You should know better, be more prepared. Hopefully you can make it home before your feet turn to blocks of ice.

“Goodnight, assholes.” You call over your shoulder, and your friends momentarily break from their poker faces to return the sentiment. “Love you!”, Cassian calls, and “Keep warm!”, Rhysand reminds you, and then Azriel is following you out of the door.

“Cass is definitely losing that game.” The Shadowsinger immediately sidles close to you, his side pressed against yours. It doesn’t do much against the glowering cold, but it’s a comfort.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to hear it across the camp the moment he realises.” You breathe a laugh, curling in on yourself. Not only is the temperature simply unpleasant, but it also causes you pain — any extreme weather seems to make the ruined remains of your clipped wings twinge. You search for a subject to distract yourself from the sensation. “How come you didn’t invite Kaeda tonight?”

The name of Azriel’s recent interest has him angling himself towards you, snowflakes catching in his hair. He raises a dark eyebrow. “We’ve not moved past the casual stage yet. Certainly not enough to subject her to Cassian’s company.”

“Shame. It’d be nice to have another female around.” Rhysand’s cousin, Mor, sometimes comes to visit, and you have a few good female friends around the camp, but in your closest circle, you’re a little outnumbered.

Something that didn’t seem to matter so much when you were all younglings making mischief. But you’re adults now. Things are different. You are different.

Azriel presses his arm into yours. “If things progress, I’ll bring her to meet the three of you.”

That’d be nice, you think. To have another friend, and to see Azriel happy. See him appreciated. He deserves to be appreciated.

“And are they?” You press back. “Progressing?”

It’s then that there’s the slightest shift in his demeanour. Anyone else might not catch it — he’s the Shadowsinger, after all, and damn well guarded and cryptic and good at hiding what he’s thinking, feeling. But you’ve known him since you were mere, little runts, and you know every little mannerism.

Even in the freezing cold, Azriel blushes. Turns coy.

“What?” You urge, trying and failing to read him.

He gives a half-hearted shrug. “I want to kiss her.”

“Then why don’t you?

“I want to do it right. I don’t…I don’t want to fuck it up.”

The concern seems like a baseless one. You’re sure Azriel has kissed people before, although he’s always been considerably more reserved than Cassian and Rhys when it comes to females, and you’re not certain how far he’s ever gone. Of all the things you talk about, this isn’t usually one of them. You’re not sure why.

But you’ll help, if possible. You mull over his words as the two of you crunch through thick snow, more and more of it seeping into your useless shoes. The soles of them are worn, and you need a new pair, but you can ill afford it right now. Eventually, the cold starts to get painful, and you stop for a moment, leaning on Az’s arm as you swear quietly.

“There’s no way you’re making it home in those.” He’s totally right, of course. “I told you to get new ones.”

“And I told you, I can’t afford them.” Your toes are numb, now.

“I could fly you straight to your door—”

“Az, you know you can’t.” You sigh; the two of you have had this conversation countless times, because Az takes your safety very seriously indeed. “My father won’t like it.”

It’s not like your father isn’t aware that you’ve been friends with Az and the others since you were youngsters. But as you’ve gotten older, he’s only gotten more paranoid. The last person in the godsdamn universe he would want to think about you having relations with is any of your three closest friends. And if he so much as catches a whiff of them at your door, one of you is sure to pay for it.

Azriel knows you’re right, even if he doesn’t like it. He curses under his breath, and then his arms are snaking around you. “Alright. Hold on to me.”

“What are you…” You cling to him as much as your frozen fingers will allow. He’s always a little warmer than you are, and the feeling is pleasant. As pleasant as his scent is. So naturally, you press closer to him.

“We’ll go to the mead hall.” Azriel explains. “No one will be there now, but the hearths will still be warm. We can spend the night there, and I’ll fly you home in the morning when your father has left for the forge.”

The mead hall is where the Illyrian families across the camp congregate almost nightly to eat their dinner and learn of camp news. It mostly becomes an unpleasant atmosphere, with the males drinking too much and at least one fight certain to break out. You try to attend as little as possible, opting to eat your meals elsewhere, usually in the company of your friends, but your father sometimes insists that you accompany him and drag his drunken ass back home afterwards.

At this time of night, though, the brutes will have been long kicked out and sent home. The cooks will have followed soon after, and the only remaining presence in the long hall is the heat that filled the place. The mere thought of it is a mouthwatering one.

Unsurprisingly, it’s locked, and unsurprisingly, Azriel and his shadows get the door open as if it isn’t. He places you down in the entrance, and you’re immediately heading through to the mammoth dining hall, the warmth breathing out at you and thawing your frozen skin.

Az’s boots thud on the wooden floor after you, leaving little patches of melting snow in his wake. “I’ll get another fire going.”

You hop up onto one of the long wooden tables, first kicking off your sodden shoes and then stuffing your socks into them. You wiggle your toes, trying to generate some warmth into your pinkened feet.

You watch Azriel from across the room. The strands of his dark hair are damp and falling into his eyes, his skin cold-bitten. Sometimes, in moments like these, it stuns you how beautiful your closest friend is. You suppose it’s easy to forget, sometimes, when you’ve known somebody for so long; easy to become desensitised to their beauty. But looking at him like this, you’re sure he must have a whole line of suitors — both female and male — vying for his attention. Even if it’s something he never talks about.

To you, he’s just Az. And you can’t help snorting quietly as he so predictably scoops your shoes and socks up and places them by the fire he has lit.

A mother hen, truly.

“You should start to warm up any second.” He says, traipsing back over to where you’re sat. He slots himself between your legs, and his warmed hands cup your face. “I’m going to buy you a new pair of boots.”

“No you’re not.” You immediately quip, narrowing your eyes up at him. “I’ll buy them when my father chooses to pay me.”

You know it ticks him off — he, like the other adult males, gets a semi-decent wage for his commitment to the Illyrian army, the hours of training he puts in. You, on the other hand, might spend hours — days — helping out in your father’s forge, using the skills you’ve observed from him, and you’ll still only see the flash of a coin on a rare day that he decides he tolerates having a daughter, and that you’re not so bad, after all.

Hence why Azriel can afford a pair of boots, and you can’t. But you’ll not take his money.

So, you change the subject, relaxing into the pleasant sensation of his shadows tickling your skin, warming you. “Why would you fuck it up?”

Azriel’s face turns blank. “What?”

“You said you don’t want to fuck up kissing Kaeda. Why do you think you would?”

He stares back at you for a beat. And then his cheeks darken imperceptibly — nothing to do with the cold.

It surprises you. Az can be coy; shy, even. He’s the quietest of the three males in your circle. A pensive observer, never having much to say but certainly always having much to think about. And you know he has his insecurities, things that bother him, but he’s mostly sure of himself. Knows his power, his strength.

You’re not quite used to him balking from a subject. Becoming flustered by it.

“Has anyone complained about your technique before?” You cock an eyebrow, already knowing that no, they absolutely haven’t. Azriel has very full, kissable lips — something you’ve observed a couple of times before. In a totally platonic way, of course. Totally.

“I didn’t say that,” he lowers his gaze, “I—”

“Just go for it.” You reach up, pinching his flushed cheek between your fingers. “Jump right in and land one on Kaeda. Impress her with your kissing prowess—”

“You,” he tugs your hand away, “are so annoying—”

“The rest will naturally follow when you have your tongue in her mouth. Trust me. And then you’ll be wondering why you were worried in the first place—”

“Except that I’ve never kissed anybody before.”

Immediately, you fall still.

He may as well have shouted the words, from how loudly they seem to echo through the hall.

You stare up at your dear friend, and you blink. Wait for the punchline. Wait for a teasing grin to tug at the corner of his lips — something that very few people other than you get to witness — and for him to tell you that he’s jesting, and of course he’s kissed somebody before, and done a lot more stuff than that, too. All the stuff. Every bit of it. Over and over again—

“Let’s just drop it.” He murmurs, stepping away. You think you might have offended him with your silence, your surprise.

“Wait.” You blink, grasping hold of his arm. “Just…wait.”

He studies you. “Is it that much of a shock?”

Honestly? Yes, yes, it is. Because how did you not know this? You met Azriel when you were both eleven years old. Nine years ago. You faced puberty together and all the awkward things in between. And while you may not sit and discuss the ins and outs of your respective experiences, you simply assumed that his were progressing and evolving just as yours had. Cauldron, Rhys and Cassian stuck their cocks in different males and females every other week. You supposed you’d merely…grouped Azriel in with such things.

But when you think about it — really, truly think about it — Azriel is the only one of the three males who has never introduced another female to the group; no matter how short or fleeting their presence might be. You can’t pluck from your brain a single name he’s ever mentioned besides Kaeda — and that’s a very recent thing.

You’re still waiting a teeny, tiny, little bit for him to say he’s joking. But his cheeks are redder than ever.

“You’ve never kissed anyone.” You repeat, blinking at him.

He purses his lips. “I haven’t.”

“You’ve never pressed your lips to another person’s—”

“I think we’ve established that, Y/N.” He pivots, turning his back on you. “Just forget it.”

“No, wait, fuck, Az, you know I’m shit with words.” You reach for his hand. “Just…how come? Why have you never kissed anybody?”

His hand is tense in yours. You don’t like it. So many times, you’ve held his hand, felt his fingers fold around yours and your palms warm against each other’s. But he holds it limp, now, barely any weight to it. You give it a gentle squeeze.

He pauses. Then squeezes back.

And it’s then that you realise that’s where the problem lies — his hands. Scars.

“Az,” you sigh softly, tugging him closer to you. “Your hands are beautiful. A part of you, your story. Anyone worth knowing — worth kissing — will think the same.”

And gods, you mean the words with every tiny shred of your spirit and soul. There’s no one on the Mother’s green earth that you love more fiercely than the male in front of you. So kind, despite the hatred that’s been shown to him. So gentle, despite the brutality of your environment. He’s wiped your tears and kept you warm and shared his food and given you a place to sleep when your father has made your life particularly difficult. Platonic soulmates exist, and Azriel is yours.

He turns back to you and keeps hold of your hand. And he chews his bottom lip as he says, “I do know that. I know that not everybody is judgemental. But it’s not just the scars.”

You brush your thumb over the back of his palm. “What else is it?”

“I just simply don’t know…how. Fuck, theoretically, of course I know how kissing works. I’ve seen it more than enough. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be any good at it. I could be awful, for all I know.”

You highly, highly doubt that to be the case. “You just…practice. Until you know what you like. Until you know your technique.”

Hazel eyes study you curiously. “So…you have, then. Practiced.”

It’s rather strange, but a sudden, random slither of guilt presses down on your shoulders. Silly, because Azriel would never begrudge you your experiences — and you’ve had plenty of them, good and bad.

But in that moment, you want nothing more than to be able to tell him that you, too, have never kissed anybody. That you’ve never touched anybody or lain with anybody. That you’re just as inexperienced and clueless as he is.

But that would be a bare-faced lie. And you and Azriel do not lie to each other.

So perhaps it’s the guilt that causes you to blurt out, “Practice on me.”

Azriel blinks at you. His hand slackens in yours. “What?”

And fuck, you’ve said it now. You’re not sure whether or not you even meant to, but you think it’d be more awkward to retract the words than stand by them and ride them out. You square your shoulders. Try to seem sure, confident.

“Practice kissing with me.”

The poor male is completely dumbfounded. “You’re…my friend.”

“Yes, Azriel. That’s why I’m offering. Practice on me, refine your technique, and then you can apply that confidence to Kaeda.”

“Practice…on you…”

“I’m trying really hard not to be offended by the disgust that’s on your face right now.”

“Shit, no, that’s not—”

“You know what? Forget I said that. Dumb idea. Terrible idea. Forget I even mentioned it.”

Az stares at you. And you don’t want to balk from the eye contact, but you also totally want to throw yourself in the fire, because it would burn less than your embarrassment right now.

And then he says, “Is it a serious offer?”

You lift one shoulder into a shrug. “Why not?”

Oh, there are a million fucking reasons why not. The most pressing being that yours and Azriel’s friendship is, perhaps, the most stable thing in your life. Certainly the most precious and treasured. Rocking that is a very bad idea, indeed.

And you think, for a moment, that that’s precisely what Az is going to tell you. He has that look on his face that he usually gets when you’re about to do something stupid. The one where he chews the inside of his cheek and his eyes rove your face.

But then the word leaves him, quiet and a little breathless, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I accept your offer.”

He—damn. You didn’t think this far; suppose you didn’t expect him to actually agree. And yet here he is, agreeing.

Suddenly, you feel like you’ve never kissed anybody, either.

But you’re supposed to be guiding him here. So you sit up straight. Lift your chin. Azriel watches, eyeing you a little like you’re a creature he’s never seen before. The bewilderment on his face squeezes your heart a bit.

“Do you want to do it now?” You ask.

He swallows. And his eyes fall down to your lips before flicking back to meet yours. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.”

And there isn’t. The two of you are here alone, no background noise from Cassian or Rhysand to battle with. It’s just you and Azriel. Your eyes. Your mouths.

You realise you’re still holding his hand, and so you use it to pull him closer to you, slot him back between your legs. You’re certain he’s trembling, and you are, too.

“Just take your time.” You tell him. “Let your body lead. Do what feels natural.”

He gives a stiff nod. And pauses. “And you promise to be honest afterwards? About how it was?”

Your eyes soften. “Always, Az.”

He nods again, and then he’s sucking in a slow, steadying breath. You remain still, allowing him to make the first move, to do whatever he wants.

There’s a pause of heavy silence, and then he dips his head. Kisses you once.

It’s a quick, closed-mouth kiss. Sweet, if not a little stiff and awkward. But you know Azriel is testing the waters, deciding whether he truly wants to do this. If he surmises that he absolutely doesn’t, you’ll stop, say no more about it. You keep still and allow him to decide.

And when he pulls back to study you, you give him a reassuring smile. One that silently communicates, I’m fine, we’re fine, this is fine.

It seems to give him the little boost he needs.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Slowly, he slips his hand out of yours, and you allow him to. You watch as he inches even closer. Moves his hands up to rest at either side of your face.

When he’s cupping your cheeks, his eyes meet yours, and he whispers. “Is this okay?”

You squeeze his forearm once. “It’s fine, Az. Do whatever you feel you want to do. I’ll tell you if I don’t like anything.”

He nods, and his gaze drags down to your lips. You’re still, careful, not moving until he’s ready to. And maybe he’ll not feel ready. Maybe he’ll stop this and pull back and decide it’s a terrible idea—

No.

Azriel’s thumb sweeps over your cheek. And then he leans in and presses his mouth to yours a second time.

This time, it’s different — you can tell straight away.

It starts out slow, his lips exploring yours, moulding to the shape of them. The kiss is a caress on your mouth, and it’s a damn good start. You find yourself leaning into it. Kissing back.

For a split second, you feel Az pause. But then his hand is cupping your cheek firmer, the heat of his palm meeting the heat of your face and making you forget how cold you were only minutes ago. Az’s lips part, and so naturally, yours do the same. You kiss him gladly.

And he’s not bad at all. You’ve kissed far more experienced males with far worse technique. Azriel may be nervous and tentative, but there’s something there, lurking beneath the surface. Something that will grow with the right encouragement, the right amount of confidence.

You…you want to give him both.

But it’s important to remember why you’re doing this. For his sake. So he can comfortably kiss the female he’s interested in.

You part from him momentarily, his breath fanning your lips as you ask him, “Are you doing okay?”

“I am.” There’s a rasp to his voice. “Are you?”

“I’m doing great.”

And you are. The weight of Azriel’s hand on your cheek is surprisingly pleasant. This exploration is new, and it’s thrilling, and it’s nice. It feels…nice.

“Do you want to keep going?” You know what you want to do. “Or would you like to stop? Whatever you want, Az.”

He swallows again. “I want to keep going.”

You nod, and in gentle encouragement, you move your hands to rest at his waist. You must be imagining the slight tremor that wracks through Azriel’s body in that moment. Or perhaps it’s just a coincidence.

There’s no time to think, because he dips his head and catches your lips faster this time. He tilts your head up, applying a little bit of pressure to your mouth. Your lips part, and so do his.

Az’s tongue seems to tease the seam of your lips. And then he slides it into your mouth.

His taste invades you so suddenly, so thoroughly, that you gasp. It’s something rough and smoky. Rugged and pleasant. You can’t think of the exact words as his tongue meets yours, and nor do you care to. All you want to do is reciprocate. Kiss him.

You scoot forward on the table, lifting yourself up slightly to add a touch more fervour to the kiss. Your tongue rolls around Azriel’s, and it’s so damn good, so damn sinful, so damn unexpected.

You’re aware, somewhat, of Azriel’s hand slipping from your cheek and resting at the column of your neck. And he licks at the roof of your mouth, and at your tongue, and somehow at every part of you that has you wanting more. His lips work perfectly with yours, not faltering once.

In that moment, you might forget who you are and what your life story is, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget this — this kiss of pure, salacious, unguarded need. If this is what Azriel kisses like for the first time, you can’t imagine how he could possibly progress. How it could get better than this.

One of you makes a needy little noise — you think it might have come from him, but it lands in your mouth, anyway. And then you’re being yanked closer, and your hands are moving up to tangle within Azriel’s hair, and you’re tugging the strands and pulling him against you and kissing him so desperately that you’re sure you’re going to feel it days, weeks, months from now. Azriel’s fingers knead the back of your neck, and your legs snake around his waist, locking him in.

There’s movement. Natural, pleasant movement — you, him, both of you together, moving and shifting.

You don’t know at which point you’re lying back on the table, or which of you made it happen; but suddenly Azriel is hovering over you, his body flush to yours, too-hot parts of you meeting too-hot parts of him.

The kiss is burning, and needy, and you writhe beneath him, and he writhes on top of you, and he’s pressing against you, and you both groan.

And then Az breaks away.

He doesn’t move far — just rips his lips from yours.

You’re both panting, breathing so hard that your heaving chests touch with every breath. Azriel blinks down at you, and you blink up at him.

And in that moment, you become aware of just how far this has slipped. He’s basically lying on top of you, his body moving with yours. Your scents have changed and combined, and you both know what the earthier, deeper quality to them means.

That you got a little carried away. And this needs to stop — now.

Azriel stares down at you, panting against your mouth as your heart thunders in your ears.

“Fuck.” Is all he says.

azriel tags: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden

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sturnslcver · 6 days

Note

enemy! chris where he absolutely breaks down reader to where she has no motivation to do anything anymore and he notices n begins to feel bad

ੈ✩‧₊˚ expiated favours ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, fluff, blurb, crying

you shot chris a fond smile, proud of the meal you’d just prepared for him. you gently set it on the edge of his desk. he didn’t bother looking away from the screen occupying him as you cracked open a can of pepsi. “here” you muttered quietly, scooting it toward him. you lingered beside him for a split second hoping he might acknowledge or thank you. he didn’t. you gently shut the door on your way out to the living room.

almost immediately after you’d plopped down on the couch, chris had emerged from his room. “you didn’t put enough ice” he grumbled. “sorry” you shrugged. he slammed his glass against the counter. “so are you gonna get the ice?” you glanced at him and exhaled a long breath before lifting yourself back to your feet to fulfill his request. he took a long sip, smacking his lips together. “better” he replied, heading back towards his room. he paused before continuing. “oh, start my clothes in the washer too. i forgot.” you scooped up the laundry basket and followed behind him to his room, dragging all the clothes from the floor and tossing them up into the basket.

your feet shuffled across the hallway back to the laundry closet. you were separating the color’s and whites when nick surfaced from his room. you delicately grasped his arm, gazing up at him. “can you finish this for me? i need to lay down.” nick obliged, of course seeing the black circles under your eye. you clawed at your hair, eager to finally get into some comfy clothes and hopefully get some sleep.

you were settled on your side, in bed facing the wall. just as you were nodding off, your door loudly unlatched. “did you finish my clothes?” you didn’t retort, your back still facing him. “you used a different detergent this time. i don’t like it.” he held up his shirt, inhaling the latest scent. “are you even listening?” he questioned. you reached for the nearest pillow, placing it directly onto your head. “i asked nick to finish the load.” he squinted his eyes as if it might help the noise coming from the pillow sound any less muffled.

you shot up and turned to face chris. “you know i don’t have to do these things for you. i just do it because i want too. i like doing things for you and you don’t show any appreciation or gratitude towards anything i do for you.” you voice gradually softened as you felt a lump forming in your throat. you hid your face in your hands and began to weep. “i’m tired, chris. i’m trying my best and it’s never enough.” you felt the bed sink in a little, peeking through your fingers. chris had his knee eased into the edge of the bed right beside you. he brought his hands up, drawing yours away from your face. he placed his hands lightly against your cheeks and used his thumbs to gingerly rub away your tears. he surveyed your glassy eyes for a moment, placing one of his hands on the back of your head and pulling you against his chest faintly. he clutched you into a warm embrace.

hesitating momentarily, you brought your arms around his back, rubbing up and down repeatedly, reciprocating his affection. your fingers trickled along chris’ spine. his chin lazed on top of your head. “don’t cry. i’m sorry. i do appreciate you and everything you do for me and it’s my fault for not making it more known to you.”he placed both of his hands to the side of your head and planted a soft kiss to your forehead. “how about you let me finally appreciate you, hm? ” “how?” you chuckled eagerly.

chris raised your legs back onto the bed and signaled you to rest your back up against the headboard. he climbed up onto the bed and slid toward the bottom, placing your feet in his lap. he reverently placed a warm kiss to your ankle and began to massage your foot. “feels nice” you beam up at him. he hummed contently. the both of you exchanged a playful glance and laughed. “just tell me when to stop” chris cooed.

— a/n: i wasn’t sure how to go about the whole enemy thing because i couldn’t come up with a creative enemy backstory or a decent reason as to why they would be “enemies” also this is pretty short but i hope u still enjoy!! pls keep submitting things guys :)

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sakkiichi · 10 months

Text

CRUEL SUMMER.

the summer heat is becoming unbearable, but if you can be with him, you think you’ll survive this unforgiving weather.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Kaveh, Alhaitham, Kaeya x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance, a tiny little bit suggestive. reader’s hair is long enough to be put into a ponytail in Kaveh’s.

word count: 1.6k.

decided to try this other layout formatting to make the post more pleasing (hopefully haha), hope you enjoy <3

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

If you didn’t know him so well, you’d think he’s doing this on purpose.

White short sleeved t-shirt on, Kazuha sits by your living room’s fan.

A strawberry popsicle in his mouth, he looks unfairly good with sweaty strands framing his face, as he reaches to tie his hair up into a high ponytail.

You want to mess it up. You think, cheeks heated, and not because of the weather.

You watch with envy as droplets slide down the vibrant popsicle on your boyfriend’s mouth.

And then, a devilish idea pops into your mind.

“Kazu…” you call him, a mask of innocence over your less demure intentions. “Can I have a taste?”

Sunset eyes set on you, soft pink lips separating from the icy treat.

“Of course, my dove.” He smiles, offering you the ice pop.

With your tongue sticking out the corner of your lips, your hand closes over his.

Your gaze, however, settles for another strawberry hued treat.

You lean in, and Kazuha’s lips taste like frozen sugar. The hold you had on his hand tightens, as his free one reaches up to cup your cheek, your hand on top of his.

You feel cool droplets from the melting ice cream on your skin, the wind from the nearby fan cooling you off.

When you pull away for air, your lips close around the melting sweet, still in Kazuha’s hand, your eyes never leaving his.

“Now I want a taste, hummingbird.” The samurai utters, taking your chin in between his fingers, guiding your kiss to him once more.

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

He won’t admit it, but your whining’s kind of cute.

Your form laying on the bed, splayed out upside down, your legs kicking every now and then for some semblance of air.

He certainly wants to steal the air off your lungs right now.

“Kuniiiii!” You look at him, a pout he wants to kiss off all too enticing on your lips. “It’s so hot…”

He sighs, exasperated. Most of his clothes have been discarded already, the black tank top in stark contrast to his pale skin doing nothing to help lower your temperature.

“How many more times are you gonna say it?” The wanderer huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m gonna melt into a puddle…” You complain, looking at the night dawning out the window, hoping the sunset brings at least a slight breeze.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” Are the words that contradict the spreading pink blooms on your lover’s cheeks. “Give me your hand.”

You stare back at him, tilting your head to the side from your upended position.

“Come on, I’m gonna do something about this heat.” He spats, the fake malice melting off his tone at your sparkly eyed gaze.

Standing up, you rush to your wanderer, putting your hand in his perfectly spotless one.

The air you so desperately craved leaves your lungs momentarily when his other arm hooks under your thighs, starlight kissing your skin the moment he leaps out the open window.

You brace yourself for impact.

“Open your eyes, silly.” You hear, followed by a flick to your forehead.

Galaxy-like eyes regard you, soft, akin to the polarity of a moon against the dusky edges of his smirk. “Didn’t you like the stars? It’s relatively cool here too.” The wandering doll states, landing on a corner of the rooftop.

The scent of nearby wisteria surrounds you when your arms wrap around him, your head nuzzling into his chest.

“Thank you, Scara.” You softly whisper.

“Weren’t you hot?” He retorts at your closeness, tone amused, arms tightening around you.

He never cared for the stars above, and certainly not now that you make constellations shine in the firmaments of his stare.

✧ XIAO

Xiao wonders if you have a fever.

Your skin is all hot, you lay down more than usual, you’re not hungry, and you won’t stop shifting in bed.

He is worried. Is this because of his karma? The yaksha ponders, lower lip caught between his teeth, his spoon picking at the frozen almond tofu he would have otherwise devoured in seconds.

“Xiao?” You ask, sitting by his side, on a shaded area of Wangshu Inn’s balcony. “Is everything okay?”

Sharp golden eyes set on yours. Dark shadows pool under your stare. You didn’t sleep well, again.

“Qingxin…” the conqueror of demons begins. “You look tired… are you sick? Did I do something wrong?” Xiao worries, silk flowers blossoming on his pale cheeks.

You sigh heavily, laying down with your head over his thigh.

“I’m not sick, love…” You tell him, your hand reaching up to cup his face. “It’s just… this heat is a bit too much…” You smile, a little strained.

“I see…” He breathes, relief lacing his tone. Then, you feel something cool against your forehead.

“Xiao, what-“

“This will help.” He mutters, face still a crimson watercolor, as he awkwardly holds the cool almond tofu plate over your temple. “Here, have some too.” He mumbles, busying himself with scooping up some, bringing the spoon to your parched lips.

You swallow the treat, eyes focused on his features, the scorching breeze combing through the dark stands of his hair.

“You’re so cute, Xiao.” You smile up at him.

Now, he’s the one having a heat stroke.

✧ KAVEH

Why did you decide on today of all days to tidy up his study, you might never know.

Droplets of sweat uncomfortably trickle down your neck and back, your shirt sticking to your skin.

You huff, running a hand through your sweat dampened hair.

Now, of all times you just had to forget to bring a hair tie. Sighing, you resign yourself to suffer moving yet another box, strands sticking to your face and the back of your neck.

“My darling,” Your lover delicately calls, his voice honey sweet. “Allow me.” Kaveh’s hands rest on your shoulders, moving up to your hair, gathering it at the back of your head carefully.

“Mmm…” You hum at the sensation, eyelids briefly fluttering closed. “This is nice.” You sing, as you sway against the architect.

He chuckles.

“I can’t let my gorgeous padisarah suffocate in this weather, now, can I?”

You turn around, hair now neatly tied, a golden shimmery scrunchie holding it into a ponytail.

“Well, you could effectively avoid that keeping the room tidy.” You tease, bopping his nose.

“Fair…” Kaveh mumbles, zaytun peach pink painted on his cheeks.

You let out a soft laugh, lips tenderly brushing against his pouty ones.

If you get to spend moments like this with him, you can endure this.

✧ ALHAITHAM

Sometimes, you think there is no way your boyfriend is human.

How can he, in this weather, be reading his book so nonchalantly, completely unbothered by the unforgiving rays of the midday sun?

You rest your cheek on your crossed arms, keeping you afloat on the edge of the swimming pool.

“Are you really not going to come take a bath, Alhaitham?”

The scribe momentarily looks up from the tome, vibrant turquoise leveling you before returning his gaze to the words.

“I’m fine, [Y/n].” Your partner utters, flatly.

You ‘ugh’.

“Rude!” You whine, as you splash a wave in Alhaitham’s direction, soaking his t-shirt, the book on his hands somehow still perfectly dry.

You turn around, your back to him, resting against the pool’s wall.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand tilting your chin upwards.

Silver and teal flood your vision before your lover kisses the corners of your mouth, tongue swiping over the pretty pink of your moist lips.

You smile into the kiss, but right as you were going to deepen it, the former acting grand sage pulls away.

“Ah- ah.” He tuts, smirk outlined in his handsome features. “I’m afraid not now, sweetheart.”

You whine in response.

“And you’re lucky the book is dry.” Alhaitham answers you, already walking away, that grin still etched on his face. “Let’s talk about it tonight.” Is the scribe’s last statement before immersing himself in his read again.

✧ KAEYA

As enchanting as the Veluriyam Mirage is, you can’t deny the rainforest climate is a bit too warm.

The humidity and high temperature are certainly not helping your state, as Klee urges you to follow her, claiming she wants to ride the choo-choo cart again.

How could you deny her? When her hopeful eyes and bright smile expectantly awaited your answer? When she looks so excited in her new mage costume?

So, you push through, panting as the girl runs along in front of you.

When she stops near Silver Bottle Courtyard to play with some hydro eidolons, however, you are thankful. And you certainly don’t pass up the chance to freshen up and drink some water in the nearby fountain.

“Well, someone looks tired.” A familiar voice speaks.

“Kaeya…” you weakly call, faint smile tugging at your lips.

The swordsman, or rather, bandit now, steps closer to you, sitting himself next to you on the fountain’s stone edge.

“Allow this thief to cool you down a little, darling.” He offers, dipping his fingers ringed in gold on the crystalline waters.

Slipping his hands under your shirt, the water cools at Kaeya’s contact with your skin, eliciting pleased sighs from you.

“I take it this is better?” Your knight teases, dark manicured fingers caressing your nape.

“Much better.” You announce, with a satisfied smile. “If you’re going to do this, you can steal me away any time, my bandit.” You tease.

“Oh, don’t ever doubt it, beautiful.” He flirts back, with a kiss to the side of your neck.

1K notes · View notes

racinggirl · 2 months

Note

i’m hunting your ask box at this point but i can’t really regret it, your writing is a masterpiece each and every time 🎉

today’s thoughts : smau where y/n and charles always ‘argue’ and make comments against each other on socials, leading people to think they actually hate each other (they’re actually best friends and lovers in secret, and sit together giggling as they tweet stupid shit about each other) they admit the truth with a post of them on a date with the caption “… enemies to lovers?”

the grid know they’re good friends but not that they’re going out until the posts, lando would definitely be like “yep i knew it i called it” when he really did not

lots of love!! <3

yourusername

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 73,710 others

An iced coffee a day... (only it's just frappuccino without coffee bc I don't like coffee) 🧋

view all 9,264 comments

user8 you're so real for this, queen

charles_leclerc someone needs to teach Y/N that frappuccino's are just coffee's sugary sidekick

yourusername sorry Charles, I prefer my beverages without a side of bitterness. user2 Am I the only one that feels like Charles and Y/N don't like each other this much? user10 Nope. user1 They hate each other lol

charles_leclerc

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 1,402,618 others

Let the season begin 🏎️ ❤️

view all 62,720 comments

yourusername goodluck, you'll need it 😚

charles_leclerc thanks, good to see you're unable to stay away from my posts 😉 yourusername someone should keep an eye on the chaos you bring to my feed. It's a public service, really. charles_leclerc a public service? I should be charging admission for the entertainment I provide 😘 user7 okay they are UNHINGED

yourusername

liked by user2, user7, user8 and 92,610 others

is it giving 'that girl' vibes? ✨

view all 5,277 comments

user4 YES IT IS 😍

charles_leclerc you're such a StarBucks addict 🧋

yourusername says the guy that's addicted to having a cup of espresso every morning

user10 wait, how does she know? user6 OMG what if they are dating? user2 lmao, they hate each other, I doubt they are willingly hanging out together

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, user2, arthur_leclerc and 104,175 others

no cap needed 🌎 ✈️

view all 9,610 comments

user1 liked by Charles AND Arthur? I thought they hated each other?

user3 Why do I feel like we're gonna get mind fucked, they are playing a game and we're all losing 😶

user9 I'm obsessed, girl you're living our dream 😩

user5 where are you going???

yourusername 🇯🇵 ❤️ user6 THE JAPAN GP? OMG

user2 hold up, no Charles x Y/N banter in the comments?

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, scuderiaferrari and 126,710 others

@charles_leclerc have to admit, I would make a pretty good WAG 💋

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user9 OMG OMG OMG OMG

user6 WHAT IS HAPPENING OH MY LORD

charles_leclerc if only you would choose F1 over soccer 😘

yourusername I'll come back to you about that in a week

one week later

yourusername & charles_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, f1 and 2,516,470 others

Enemies to lovers?...

Took you a while to figure that out, happy 2 years baby ❤️

view all 74,571 comments

charles_leclerc I love you ❤️

yourusername I love you more ❤️ ❤️

landonorris yep, I knew it, called it

charles_leclerc no you did not, you tried to hit on her 😂 yourusername you could learn something from his flirting skills tho, at least Lando didn't ask me if 'falling down from heaven hurt' 💀 charles_leclerc It worked though, didn't it 😉

user1 TWO YEARS ALREADY?

user7 that sixth picture though 😩 ❤️

user8 I want what they have 😍

a/n: thank you for sending in the request sweety! It really means a lot! Hopefully you’ve enjoyed it! As I mentioned before, I will have a small break. I’ve got 3 requests in my askbox atm, but if you have an idea for a story, don’t hesitate to hunt my askbox again and send it in. I’m not 100% sure when I’ll be back exactly, but it shouldn’t be too long. Lots of love 💗

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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

Text

The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied.

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered.

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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riizewrld · 3 months

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

riize as types of boyfriends!

˚ ༘ sfw/fluff

˚ ༘ warnings: i cussed a little. crucify me idc‼️

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

shotaro: the type of boyfriend that wants to share everything! food, clothes, music playlists, you name it. this man literally sulks when you refuse a bite of his food. he cannot eat if he hasn’t offered you a taste first. he actually won’t buy food he’s knows you won’t eat. i also think he’d love to style you since he’s such a fashionista. would probably be obsessed with couple items. but they’re all from designer brands cuz he’s just rich and successful like that 😙😛. always so ready to drop a bag on you. what’s his is yours too!

eunseok: eunseok is the type of boyfriend to be mean asf but in a loving way, i swear. he teases the shit out of you, and if you weren’t dating y’all would probably be frenemies fr. he loves seeing you annoyed bc you look so cute with your eyebrows furrowed and your cheeks all red. lowkey likes when you raise your voice at him. you’d give him a stern look and he ceases all action and rapid fires his apologies with that sexy grin of his. (you know what grin I’m talking about!). eunseok just lives for your reactions. he’d love a fiesty girl with a cute appearance.

sungchan: he’s the type of boyfriend that cannot be away from you for too long. he’s kinda clingy, possessive and literally always wants to be touching you whenever y’all are together. he needs you like spongebob needs water. he’s so golden retriever coded too! he’s very upbeat and drags you along with him to different places. cafes, shopping centers, etc. even if he’s not doing anything important he’d rather be doing it with you attached to him at the hip. he always has one arm over your shoulder or around your waist. always taking advantage of y’all’s size difference! he’s definitely quality time typa guy. i feel like a black cat gf would suit him (me😆😐)

wonbin: the type of boyfriend who’s actually the girlfriend. i said what i said. maybe it’s bc he makes me wanna baby him..idk. but as much as he likes to act cool, we all know he’s kinda dorky and soft. plus, he’s so easily scared!! he’s not fooling anyone. he acts like he doesn’t like it when you take care of him, but you can tell he appreciates you a lot. i feel like he’s also the type to sing to you often. he has such a pretty voice and he likes showing off his strengths in front of you to make up for his “moments of weakness” as he’d probably call them. but it’s just him being bbygirl coded and you teasing him for it.

seunghan: sweet boy! seunghan is so canon. I just know he’s the type of boyfriend to worship the ground you walk on. I feel it in my bones . he generally seems like such an affectionate person, even with the members of riize. this man literally looks at you with hearts in his eyes. expect a lot of handholding, kissing, hugging etc. most definitely the type to do pda without even realizing. you’d have to constantly remind him that y’all are in public and that he can’t just put his hand up your shirt bc he felt like it. and he’d pout so hard with those beautiful lips of his. probably also a jealous type!

sohee: playful boyfriend all the way. y’all are like besties. sohee’s the type of boyfriend to unironically dab and make still vine references in 2024. like bro would casually naenae in the middle of a the street while on a walk with you bc why not. you’d cringe so hard but eventually end up laughing with him. he’s just goofy like that. he just loves cracking jokes and seeing you laugh at him. it gives him so much satisfaction. I think he’s also the type to try and prank you. idk. y’all would be like those youtube couple prank channels. but hopefully less cringe and not toxic 💀 random but i imagine y’all doing karaoke but it’s ice spice or smth and he’s fully immersed. shaking his ass like he got a dump truck.

anton: the type of boyfriend that knows every little thing there is to know about you. he’s just so quiet that you have no choice but to be the talkative one. he’s loves it though. you’re his little yapper! he’s so attentive, literally knows what you want before you even have to say it. he can tell how you’re feeling just from the look on your face. the type of bf that sits on your bed and listens to you rant while you clean your room or smth. he’s also physically incapable of being romantically invested in more than one person at a time. sooo fortunately for you, every other girl is fucking invisible to this man. the thought of another girl even liking him makes him want to crawl out of his skin. the type to be like “i have a girlfriend!1!1” when the girl was just trying to tell him that his backpack is unzipped and wide open‼️ he’d be speed walking away from girls i’m telling you.

note: haha. first work complete. hope it wasn’t too silly. pls get the references lol . is the format ok? ik it’s basic but lmk what you think. ALSO!! DOESN’T THIS LOOK LIKE SOHEE?! ⬇️

(·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ )

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13uswntimagines · 3 months

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13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird.

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you.

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice.

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them.

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew.

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves.

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask.

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you.

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight.

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland.

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other.

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction.

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again.

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face.

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,”

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head.

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations.

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been.

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime.

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team.

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,”

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her.

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,”

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,”

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin.

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey.

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes.

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces.

You didn’t need to see it.

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,”

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills.

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true.

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help.

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group.

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you.

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill.

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path.

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,”

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,”

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much.

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby.

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal.

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out.

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands.

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head.

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner.

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork.

“Not bad,”

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT.

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again.

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you.

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,”

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,”

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,”

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that.

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,”

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot.

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back.

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up.

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal.

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel.

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup.

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish.

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net.

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options.

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much.

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio?

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot.

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,”

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out).

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics.

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do.

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick.

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look.

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play.

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick.

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot.

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips.

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second.

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes.

At least someone else saw it too.

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,”

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team.

You would take any help you could get.

*****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you.

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower.

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her.

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender. “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did.

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley.

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,”

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together.

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone.

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,”

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,”

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,”

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before.

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,”

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table.

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks.

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,”

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you.

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop.

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,”

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,”

“She’s my friend,” You muttered.

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,”

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,”

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted.

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,”

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again.

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted.

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer.

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York.

“At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed.

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her.

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too.

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal.

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,”

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,”

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,”

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter.

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,”

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her.

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down.

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,”

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat.

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair.

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,”

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid.

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it.

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth.

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it.

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness.

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping.

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,”

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite.

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list.

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you.

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,”

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes.

You couldn’t meet her eyes.

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced.

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much.

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder.

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you.

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you.

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,”

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,”

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself.

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,”

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,”

Alex nodded.

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia.

But she could see that you were not fine.

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it.

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,”

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand.

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot.

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,”

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes.

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to.

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old.

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics.

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening.

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,”

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot.

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions.

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest.

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability.

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,”

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,”

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle.

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work.

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help.

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed.

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,”

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer.

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio.

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,”

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that.

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses.

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,”

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time.

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,”

You hummed, turning away.

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal.

But she wished it didn’t sting as much.

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast.

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying.

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough.

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York.

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip.

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk.

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,”

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,”

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense.

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove.

You had everything to prove.

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,”

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,”

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team.

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset.

You had proven them wrong.

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone.

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor.

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio.

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team.

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently.

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?”

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,”

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second.

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?”

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question.

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started.

It was the nice thing about camp.

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you.

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing.

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you.

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was.

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in?

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call.

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand. “come on,”

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen.

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,”

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,”

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought.

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend.

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness.

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter.

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal.

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back.

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there.

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue.

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration.

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York.

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable.

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor.

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship.

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled.

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor.

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder.

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease.

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,”

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,”

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting.

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,”

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise.

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,”

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,”

You didn’t want to be too… forward.

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same.

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,”

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested.

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably.

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche.

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it.

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,” She said, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,”

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates.

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot.

Taylor was your friend.

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,”

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her.

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,”

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching.

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks.

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind.

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass.

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar.

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling.

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away.

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor.

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,”

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second.

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone.

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles.

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes.

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge.

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said.

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips.

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it.

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously.

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

“I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip.

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,”

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass.

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded.

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18.

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,”

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed.

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects.

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship.

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,”

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,”

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message.

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again.

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head.

But this was different.

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted.

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to.

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly,

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”

Taylor bit her lip.

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was.

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,”

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,”

“Thanks,”

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading.

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on.

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it.

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans.

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway.

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist.

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest.

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door.

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate.

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls.

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her.

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door.

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat.

“Is Y/n here?”

Her voice came out shaky, horse.

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope.

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively.

“Oh,”

Taylor’s whole being deflated.

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?”

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends.

Why had you lied?

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it.

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,”

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out.

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,”

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed.

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin?

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting.

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you.

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,”

“Thanks,”

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand.

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,”

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise.

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin.

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had.

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange.

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you.

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show.

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust.

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater.

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt.

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do.

“Y/n,”

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater.

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked.

“Y/n, wait!”

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear.

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo.

“Y/n,”

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned.

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well.

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you.

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,”

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,”

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway.

At least the 51st station was heated.

“Y/n wait,”

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you.

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her.

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young.

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway.

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence.

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain.

It was like your brain had short-circuited.

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her.

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,”

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes.

Taylor kissed you.

She kissed you in the rain.

Taylor liked you.

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything.

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss.

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces.

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck.

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs.

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90.

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again.

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows.

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through.

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,”

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,”

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket.

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold.

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor.

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,”

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it.

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,”

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,”

You raised an eyebrow at her.

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car.

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam.

You shut down that thought.

It didn’t matter.

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper.

You didn’t feel cold.

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,”

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,”

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll.

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek.

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips.

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her.

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head.

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again.

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt.

Maybe Emily was right.

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet.

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender.

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else.

But she couldn’t want you.

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice.

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees.

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you.

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint.

But maybe she did want you.

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking.

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room.

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place.

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,”

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?”

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,”

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,”

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,”

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie.

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,”

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you.

Except…

your eyes closed.

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain.

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say.

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister.

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it.

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?”

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little.

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you.

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,”

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget.

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong.

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality.

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about.

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing.

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,”

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,”

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly.

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior.

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed.

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave.

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air,

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home.

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east.

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants.

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning.

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood.

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces.

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win.

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you.

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged.

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way.

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots.

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,”

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them.

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it.

No one else had to know that.

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight.

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off.

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats.

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,”

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower.

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,”

You met her eyes, swallowing hard.

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her.

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,”

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair.

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,”

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett.

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door.

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,”

Before slamming the locker room door shut.

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you.

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages.

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to.

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code.

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone.

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway.

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her.

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet.

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there.

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized.

“Hey hotshot,”

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view.

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants.

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it.

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features.

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes.

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,”

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own.

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you.

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game.

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly.

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,”

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to.

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours.

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug.

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you.

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,”

It was true.

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones.

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain.

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,”

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble.

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,”

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can.

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand.

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks.

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless.

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back.

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway.

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh.

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car.

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity.

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment.

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well.

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door.

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you.

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable.

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain.

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point.

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,”

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it). “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster.

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern.

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her.

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you.

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,”

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker.

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,”

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water.

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool.

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings.

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm.

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words.

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom.

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor.

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool.

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish.

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes.

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,”

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there.

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear.

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone.

Not even Mal.

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water.

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,”

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,”

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?”

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her.

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor.

It was sweet and spicy and addictive.

And it made you want her.

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations.

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin.

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer.

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you.

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?”

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,”

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,”

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm.

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off.

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer.

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off.

Except it’s where your mind always went.

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers.

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable.

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin.

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted.

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface.

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,”

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,”

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool.

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,”

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom.

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets.

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,”

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,”

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left).

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen.

There had to be something fucking wrong with you.

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach.

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet.

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change.

You took another deep breath.

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse.

You could be normal.

You could save your friendship.

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom.

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,”

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,”

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,”

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water.

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip.

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle.

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,”

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,”

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,”

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,”

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers.

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder.

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs.

Safe territory.

Territory that put you in control of the pace.

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front.

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass.

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point.

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach.

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff.

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue.

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,”

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her.

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line.

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward.

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub.

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down.

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,”

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach.

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,”

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,”

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,”

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek.

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her.

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done.

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask.

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,”

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,”

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?”

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,”

It was the truth.

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way.

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead.

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all.

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite.

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams.

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours.

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you.

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for.

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back.

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup.

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup.

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-.

You let out a long breath from your nose.

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that.

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that.

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin.

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,”

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces.

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her.

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave.

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return.

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight.

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you.

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,”

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign.

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it.

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway.

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you.

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it.

“And you thought I’d want to talk,”

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face.

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team.

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that.

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor.

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?”

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way.

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,”

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her.

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before.

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with.

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head.

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine.

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed.

She was still your friend.

You spat the word in your mind.

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor.

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you.

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer.

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,”

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did.

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?”

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,”

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed.

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,”

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected.

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.”

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop.

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,”

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off.

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on.

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence.

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,”

“But the middle?” She asked.

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck.

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel.

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk.

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut.

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started.

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood.

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running.

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again.

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,”

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind.

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence.

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go.

You swallowed hard and matched her nod.

You could do slow steps.

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street.

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you.

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?”

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,”

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited.

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway.

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you.

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup.

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work.

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver.

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery.

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no.

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?”

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,”

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?”

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears.

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you.

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,”

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend.

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you.

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that.

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm.

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,”

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow.

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened.

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?”

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,”

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed.

How would things change? What would she expect?

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest.

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her.

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady.

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,”

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #13 eras of us

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