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13uswntimagines · 4 months

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

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

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

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

July, 2015

We were both young when I first saw you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty spectacular isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged again, your grin turning impish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “So?”

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

It was a fundamental part of your personality after all.

“Y/n I’m serious,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tay!”

“That was an amazing show,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

September, 2015

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

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

But as it turned out, Taylor did text you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “I don’t flop,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It also saved your mother’s sanity.

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

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

She rolled her eyes. “Try for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t be into you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

December 2015

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings

That became my religion, listen

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned. “Never ever?”

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

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

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

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

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

A thoughtful look crossed her face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they dating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was your friend.

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

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

“You didn’t just do that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missed me, loser,”

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

You would not be a loser.

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

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

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

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

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

Her face was red when you dropped your shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wrinkled your nose. “Bummer,”

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

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

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

You would tolerate baking if it was with Taylor.

*****

March, 2016

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the fuck have you been?”

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

She made a face at you.

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

Now it felt like she barely knew you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You asked, examining the cookie.

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

You glanced down at the device.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Kelley frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just fine?”

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

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

Lots of practice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t sure when that changed.

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

“Promise?” She asked you, more softly.

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

“With my pinky,”

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

But she didn't.

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

Maybe it was slightly more than slightly…

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

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

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

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

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

And… she groaned, swiping to the next picture.

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

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

She rolled her eyes.

She knew differently.

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

She sighed again, scrolling past the pictures.

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

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

It was a picture of a bag of cookies.

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

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

I can make you more when you visit me

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

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

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

*****

June 2016

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She must be at the studio.

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

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

Taylor rolled her eyes at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You doubted they’d make the connection anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus she was straight.

It was too cliche for you to handle.

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

It never turned out well when they pushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wouldn’t let Emily either.

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

“Come on Sonny, make your move,”

******

July 2016

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

2016 was the summer of the apocalypse.

There was no other way to put it.

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

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

But you missed it. Badly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you just liked hanging out with her.

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

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

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

Blondie 👱🏻‍♀️🎤: ???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her frown deepened. “You sound drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

She shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoOo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded. “That would be great,”

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

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

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

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

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

You looked so young in your sleep.

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

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

“Tay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe one day she would ask you.

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrowed.

How had you scared her? Did you call her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A dark look crossed your features.

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

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

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

You shook your head. “This is different,”

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

If only you could be like your perfect older sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

She raised her eyebrow at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be easy.

And frankly, it was easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The team brought in less money when they lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded slowly, taking another bite of her burrito.

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

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

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

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

Your whole face lit up. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor hummed. He was right.

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

Tonight you hadn’t done that.

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

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

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

Taylor’s head tilted.

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

But this felt different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Taylor…

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

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

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

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

You blew out another breath.

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

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

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

You were just… lost.

You had never felt so… attached before.

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

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

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

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

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

She was definitely going to make fun of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked at her. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t ready for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squinted. “Just go with it?”

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

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

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

“Ok,” You said. “Thank you,”

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

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

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

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

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #taylor swift imagine #woso x reader #taylor swift x reader

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sheeple · 23 days

Text

Heirs of Hogwarts | part 3

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Matt's thirsty (but so are you also lowkey) / Awkward family moments / Visuals (Don't like them? Don't use them🤷🏻‍♀️) / I suck at writing kiss scenes (yes it's happening) / it's spicy but not full on smut (smut adjacent) A/n: For now this is the end of the mini-series. Thank you all for enjoying my story and see you all in the next one! [Masterlist] [part 1] [part 2]

Normally you would love to be proven right. Revel in the knowledge that they should have listened to you. But now? Fuck being right. You don't want to right.

You've been carrying the letter with you for a couple of days and the weight of it makes your schoolbag makes it feel like it's filled with bricks. The letter is weighing you down, and everybody around you seems to notice it. Especially Mattheo. You still hang out with him, of course, but every time the words are on the tip of your tongue, you chicken out.

"Have you told him yet?", asks Susan as she sees you reading the letter again during lunch.

Giving her a frowned look, you shake your head. How in Merlin's name can you inform him that 'hey, my parents want to meet you because Meemaw saw us sneak into my dorm. Now they think we are together and having sex and want to meet the hypothetical father of my hypothetical baby if we were actually having hypothetical sex and not being careful. All hypothetically of course. Why else would I sneak a boy into my dorm?'

Not casually at least.

You look over towards his table and meet his eyes. He motions with his head towards the door. You nod with a small smile and finish your juice. "See you in class."

"Have fun with your boyfriend!", she calls after you and you flip her off.

"What was all that about?", asks Mattheo with a small smile while the two of you walk side by side towards Herbology.

You shrug, scratching the nailbed of your thumb. You feel a sharp pain but you continue. You know now more than ever that this is the time. "I've... I've received a letter. From my parents." You fish the letter out of your bag and hold it out for him.

Mattheo stops and looks unsurely towards the folded-up paper. When you give him a nod he unfolds the letter. You watch nervously how his eyes scan over the words.

When he stays silent, you begin to panic. "We- you don't have to! I can totally write my parents back and tell them... something! That we broke up or whatever."

"You've got nieces?" He's got a soft smile on his face as he traces the embellishments of the letter. Of course, the stationery of House Hufflepuff has its letters decorated to match the vibe of the family name.

With a shake of your head, you run a hand over your hair. "Out of everything... the thing you focus on is my nieces? Not that fact that my parents want to meet you?"

Mattheo shrugs, handing you the letter back. "Yeah, so what? That's what boyfriends do, don't they? Meet their girlfriend's parents. Fake relationship or not. Wasn't it your parents you wanted to fool?"

That shuts you up and a flaring heat spreads over your face and neck, even towards the points of your ears. "I-I yeah... But I never imagined them doing this! Then I would have never done all this to you!" With a guilty look, you slowly reach for one of his hands. You rub slow circles over the back of his hand.

Mattheo's brain short circuits as his eyes focus on your hand and his. How soft the pad of your thumb feels against his skin. He wonders if your hands feel as soft on different parts of his body. Or how sharp your nails feel when you scratch his back.

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. Taking his chance, he turns his hand around and laces his fingers with yours. "So... how do I leave a good impression on your parents?"

You think for a moment, looking away. "As superficial as it sounds, they put great value in looking a certain way." In that way they're just like other pure-blood families, you want to add but don't. You don't want to offend him or his family.

With a determent nod, Mattheo starts walking the opposite way you were going, pulling you behind him.

"Where are you taking me? Divination is that way", you point over your shoulder as you catch up to him.

Mattheo gives you a daring smile, his eyes wrinkling playfully. "My dorm. I need your advice on what to wear."

You protest and sputter about your attendance all the way towards the Slytherin dungeons. A snake made of metal rises from the ground and reveals a set of double doors. "Pure-Blood", says Mattheo and the doors swing open. You give him a look and he shrugs. "It's the password. Nothing I can do about it."

"I said nothing!", you laugh, being pulled through the entrance

The common area looks like it's carved out of rock, with marble pillars and arches. Large windows give you a look into the endless depth of the Black Lake, fish swimming by. It takes your breath away how stunning the Slytherin common room looks. It's oh so different from your own, but just as beautiful.

You try to ignore the stares you get from the Slytherin's around the room. You do stand out like a sore thumb with your sunshine yellow robes.

"Don't you ever need to pee very much when you are in the common area?", you ask, motioning towards the waterfall you circle as you enter the common room and the many water features around.

Mattheo rolls his eyes with a smile as he leads you down a corridor and holds open the door for you to enter his dorm. Four four-poster beds with green drapes are arranged in a circle with a heater in the middle of the room, spreading warmth around the room. He motions for you to sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet.

You lean back on your hands as you watch him pull one after the other crumbled-up shirt and pants out of the closet. He sends you a slightly embarrassed look and you hop off his bed.

"Let me have a look", you say softly, pushing him to the side.

"I'm sorry... It's a bit of a mess." He scratches the back of his neck as a slight blush colours his cheeks.

You wave his worries away as you spot a nice pair of jeans and a not-too-crumpled black shirt. It could totally work paired with a dark green jacket. You lay out the pieces on his bed and look proudly between the outfit and Mattheo. It's something you're parents would approve of while still being himself

"If you wear this with the shirt tucked in and your hair just styled like you always do, everything will be okay." You turn towards him with a smile.

While you were arranging the clothes, Mattheo snuck closer to you. He now stands so close to you, that you can smell his cologne. Your lips part as you look up at him. "Matt?", you whisper as he slowly cradles your face with both of his hands.

His eyes flicker from your eyes towards your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel soft puffs of breath on your face.

Mere millimetres before his lips touch yours, the door swings open and the two of you jump away from each other. "God fucking damn it", you hear him grumble under his breath as Enzo and Draco stand in the doorway.

The two boys look at you with wide eyes before Draco's expression morphs into something more teasing. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything", he says slyly, sending a smirk towards Mattheo. Who gives the blond a scalding glare.

Feeling way too awkward about the situation, you quickly gather your things. "I-I have to go. I wouldn't want to be late for my next class." Giving Mattheo a shy smile, you rush out of his dorm and the Slytherin common room — almost stumbling down and then up the stairs.

Once you deem yourself far away enough, you slump against a wall and cup your scorching hot cheeks. Your heart beats wildly in your chest... and somewhere else. Did that really just happen? Or almost? In Merlin's name, when did you get so hot and bothered about Mattheo Riddle? Not long ago he was a nuisance to you. And now? Now you've almost kissed two times and he's meeting your parents this weekend.

When you close your eyes you still see Mattheo's warm honey ones, looking at you with such softness and want- no need.

Gods.

Shaking your head, you steady yourself and with slightly unsteady legs you walk towards Arithmancy.

Meanwhile, back in the boy's dorm, Mattheo collapses onto his bed and curses out his friends. "Fucking twats!" He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, frustration running rampant through his body.

This was the second time someone interrupted him trying to kiss you. Just when he has gathered the courage to do so. First your friends and now his own. Who out there has it so out for him to cockblock him two times.

Draco and Enzo just look with high amusement towards their frustrated-to-no-end friend. They're gonna take this moment and tease him forever with it.

You don't get a chance to talk to Mattheo about the kiss. To talk to him in general. Because every time the two of you spot each other, either his or your friends wisk you away and it's driving you mad. It's like they planned it together or something.

It makes you all sulky because you want to discuss what happened between the two of you multiple times. You want answers — which you are lowkey scared of. But it's better to rip the bandage off quickly and get your heart broken than live with questions and never get an answer.

You walk into the Great Hall that Saturday, your fingers anxiously clawing at the nailbeds. But you've taken precautions and bandaged up your thumbs so you can't scratch. The pain stays but there's no blood.

"Don't you look all lovely", smiles Hanah brightly, making you twirl.

You smile and show her a cheeky leg as the split in your skirt falls perfectly when you sit. "Well...", you let out a nervous sigh, "Matt's meeting my parents today. So, we have to look the part, don't we?"

Your friends' eyes bulge out at the nickname you gave Slytherin bad boy Mattheo Riddle. Nobody ever dared to call him anything other than his name.

"Is that why he was not-so-subtly sneaking glances at us before you came?", wonders Susan out loud, which makes you tense up.

Looking at the Slytherin table, you find Mattheo easily. He gives a small wave with a smile and you return the gestures. "I'm going to sit over there. I have to prepare him from the wolves."

Slowly, you rise from your table and walk to the other side of the Great Hall. You feel the eyes of the Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's on you. But the only important ones are Mattheo's liquid honey ones, who look at you in wonder.

"Hi", you whisper when you finally reach him.

"Hi", he whispers back, a wide smile on his face.

"Can I sit with you?"

Without hesitation, he nods and slides to the side, almost shoving Enzo into Blaise's lap. He pats the now-empty spot next to him and you swing your leg over the bench. Mattheo zero's in on your bare leg and his brain shortcircuits.

You try to ignore the weird looks the Slytherin's present are giving you as you reach over and grab a piece of toast. You meet Hannah and Susan's eyes from across the room and they give you enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Swallowing your bite, you turn towards the boy next to you to say something. But your words die on your tongue at the look Mattheo gives you. It's unreadable. But not bad unreadable. There is some fondness in there you believe. "I have to warn you, by the way."

He cocks his head to the side, an easy smile on his face. "For your parents?"

A snort escapes you and you shake your head. "No- well... maybe my dad will grill you. But my brothers are way worse. They will either try to embarrass me or you."

"How many do you have?"

"Brothers? Four. There's a twin pair in there too. They are the second youngest after me."

Mattheo pales slightly. Four brothers? He found Thomas already trouble enough. But Four? He knows he's in for some shit.

You can't help but laugh as he visibly pales. Taking his hand, you pat it. You look around the Slyherin's. They all look very amused at Mattheo's despair.

The two of you finish your breakfast before it's time to go. Your parents expect you for lunch but knowing your family, there's not going to be time during just lunch.

"How are we getting to your home?", questions Mattheo as you both walk through the halls towards Professor Sproud's office.

You knock on the door and when there's no answer, you enter the room. "Via portkey. Which should arrive any second now." And like you said, a little yellow cup appears on the desk.

Placing a hand on the cup, you hold the other out for him to take. Mattheo does so and the two of you are whisked away from the castle.

You stumble for a second before you find your footing. Taking a deep breath, your senses fill with the floral aroma of your home. It feels good to be back.

"Holy fucking shit", you hear Mattheo whisper under his breath as he looks at the estate your family owns. It looks centuries old, with ivy covering most of the outer walls. A sprawling garden buzzes with bees and butterflies. A fountain is heard somewhere in the back.

You feel slightly embarrassed at Mattheo's slack jaw. This is mostly the reason why you never told about or took anyone home. The house mansion has been in your family's name for centuries. It's said that Meemaw bought it, but there's no proof of it.

"Come on." You tug him by his hand towards the front door. Mattheo's too caught up by the exterior of the house that he bumps into you when you stop in front of the front door. "Ready?", you ask, and he shakes his head.

As you ring the bell, Mattheo looks at the inscribing above the door. "Dum spiro spero, vi et animo. What does that mean?"

"As long as I breathe I hope, with strength and courage", says your father as he opens the door with a wide smile. "It's our family's motto. Nice to meet you, son." He holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake.

As he pulls the boy inside, you try your bestest to not cringe. "Dad this is Mattheo. My boyfriend." You shyly glance towards Mattheo to gauge his reaction. A slight blush paints his cheeks and you bite your lip hiding your smile.

Your dad shakes the dark-haired boy's hand enthusiastically. He starts to ramble off about the family motto and what it means and it morphs into an in-depth history lesson about the house. How the tiles and pillars in the foyer are at least four hundred years old and how they're kept in such fine condition by magic.

"Dad!", you call out, not having missed the hidden panicked looks Mattheo has given you, trying his best to look interested. "Don't you think it's a little early for Staghill History 101? Let the boy breathe."

Your father lets go of Mattheo with a jolly laugh, his moustache curling upwards. "You are right. I am so sorry, good chap. Why don't you two go to the library while I round up the twins? They're all very excited to meet him."

Tugging on Mattheo's hand, you nod. "Sure. Make sure they clean off any dirt before Mum has an aneurysm. Again."

As you lead him towards the south wing, you stop just outside of the library. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. My dad's a lot and he's just happy to see anyone and everyone. Could be Father Christmas with how jolly he is." You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, looking away.

Mattheo laughs. "It's okay. He's... nice. Now I get where you get it from."

"What?", you question with a cock of your head.

Mattheo wets his bottom lip, his eyes focused on yours. "That twinkle in your eyes when you talk about something you're passionate about." He reaches out for your flaming hot cheeks, cupping them.

The doors to your right swing open and the two of you feel like little children caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Your oldest brother, Felix, raises one disapproving brow and the two of you quickly step away from each other.

"Is it them? Don't hog the door, you big oaf!" Behind Felix appears Herbert, immediately engulfing you in a big, bone-crushing hug.

"They were snogging", says Felix, walking back towards the couch he always sits on when he visits home. His comment earns him a swat from his wife next to him.

"We were not!", you protest scandalised, wrestling out of Herbert's hold. "We were just... It's none of your business what we were doing!" You grab Mattheo's hand and walk into the library, towards your mother.

He scoffs under his breath, mumbling; "You made it everybody's business when you let Meemaw catch you." That earns him another swat from his wife and a stern look from your mother.

"Mum", you say after giving her a hug, tugging Mattheo closer, "I would like you to meet Mattheo."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am." Mattheo puts on his most charming smile while holding out his hand.

Your mother shakes her head and gives him one of her signature warm hugs. "None of that! Call me Clementine. Or Clemmy. Or Ma. You're practically family now!"

You blanch, shrinking into yourself. Dear Lord. Why does your mom need to be so much?

Felix snorts. "Is he to stay? What happened to that bloke from Christmas?"

Yours and Mattheo's eyes meet and you purse your lips. "I rather not speak about it..."

That gets their attention, both men leaning forward in their seats. "What did he do?"

"Nothing!" You grow irritated at their endless questions as your mom ushers the two of you towards a couch. Sitting closely together, Mattheo lays a hand on your knee. You don't know if it's to comfort you or to ground himself.

Herbert studies the two of you with his eyes narrowed. He purses his lips while leaning back into the chair. "He beat the ex up, didn't he?"

"Oh, my Gods! Can you not play detective about my life? Stop talking about my ex with my new boyfriend right next to me", you scowl, not wanting the two of them to flip out over something that you're way past.

At that, your mother claps in her hands. "That's right! Mattheo, why don't you tell me something about yourself? What house are you in for instance?"

Mattheo glances nervously towards you and you lay a hand over his own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I'm in Slytherin, ma'am. I hope that isn't an issue."

Your mom chortles and waves his concern away. "Oh please, we aren't that kind of family."

"Speaking of family", pipes Herbert from across the room, "Who's family you belong to?"

Both your mom and you sputter and scold Herbert. But the twins coming in gives your brother his answer.

"Why on Meemaw's good name is Mattheo Riddle sitting next to our sister?", sneers Victor, Danny leering over his shoulder.

A groan escapes you while you slink down the couch, hiding your face in your hands. You had hoped that Mattheo's family wouldn't be a subject. The twins are the only ones from your family who have seen the kind of nuisance Mattheo has been to you before leaving school last year. Of course, it looks very fucking weird that he is now cosying up to you, his hand on your knee and claiming to be your boyfriend.

You feel everybody's eyes on the two of you. Mattheo shrinks down under the many gazes, his hold on you tightening in a silent plea to not abandon him right now.

Not knowing how to get away under the scrutiny, you glance at your mom. She looks shocked and when she meets your eyes, her gaze softens before turning stern. "Didn't I always tell you boys to not judge people? What can the poor boy do about which cradle he was born into? So get off your high horses and be nice to the boy!" She stands with her hands on her hips, berating your brothers.

"What did I miss?", asks your father, standing in the doorway with a tray filled with cookies and teacups, the teapot floating behind him.

"Nothing", smiles your mother, turning towards you, "I was just saying that Mattheo should have a tour of the house. Why don't you do that, honey?"

Getting what she's implying, you nod exuberantly. "Yeah, right! Let's go."

Mattheo's all too happy to escape the tense room and quickly follows after you, walking with a big arch around the twins, who are still glaring at him.

"I am so sorry." You cast your eyes towards the floor as the two of you walk through one of the many art-lined hallways. "I- There is no excuse for how they treated you..."

Mattheo's hand on your waist makes you stop and look up at him, unsheathed tears dancing in your waterline. He tuts, wiping away the single one that has managed to escape. "Don't cry, pretty girl. It's a warranted reaction. I'm used to it by now. How awkward it was anyways."

You pout while leaning into his hand. "That's horrible Matt. You don't deserve to be treated like that because your father made a wrong choice!"

"It was more than a wrong choice, lovely. Besides, there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, remember?" He laughs, but you see that there's sadness in his eyes.

With a shake of your head, you lean closer to him. "You aren't bad! Such a vile stereotype."

This time a genuine laugh bubbles out of Mattheo's chest. "Oh, sweet, sweet, Hufflepuff", he trances your cheek with the pads of his fingers, "there are many things that make me as bad as they say. Mostly for the thoughts I have about you."

Your brain short circuits and you blink up at him, processing his words. He has what? Heh?

Mattheo chuckles at your dumbfounded look. Oh, how cute you are when you are clueless. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. "Is there anything in particular you want me to see?", he asks, throwing you a bone.

That seems to snap you out of your daydream of what Mattheo could do to you and you shake your head. "Yes. There is one final person I have to introduce you to."

The two of you walk side by side as he studies both muggle and magical paintings. You lead him towards the main sitting with an empty frame with a chair hanging above the fireplace. Dragging an ottoman over, you motion for Mattheo to follow your lead and climb on top of the cushions.

"Meemaw", you call out towards the empty portrait, "I would like to meet someone."

It takes a second or two before your ancestor appears from the side, graciously draping herself and her skirts on the chair. "My littlest Badger! How are you, my dear?"

You lean closer, smiling. "Hello, Meemaw. I would like you to meet someone." You motion towards Mattheo, who looks with big eyes at her.

"Isn't that...?"

Heat spreads over your face and you bite your bottom lip. "I- yeah..."

"Mattheo Riddle, your ladyship." He bows slightly, earning a hearty laugh from her.

"Aren't you a charmer? You musn't call me ladyship. Just Helga is fine. Or Meemaw, seeing as you are our littlest badger's love." She sends you a doting smile. "Say, if I may ask; aren't you one of Salazar's boys?"

"Yes. I hope that isn't an issue for you, Helga."

She waves his concerns away. It surprised you how easily Meemaw's taken by Mattheo. He's a naturally charming person when he wants to be after all.

"Oh, of course not, dear boy! Your great-grandfather and I had a... very special relationship of our own when we were younger. It warms my heart that our descendants have found each other." A fond look paints her face as she looks off in the distance.

As a melancholy glimmer befalls her, you take that as your cue to leave. "I have to continue my tour of the house, Meemaw. See you later."

Waving her off, you hop off the ottoman and put it back in the right place before exiting the sitting room. A sigh escapes your lips and you swing your arms back and forth. Mattheo gives you a raised brow before taking your hand in his and continuing the swinging.

It's nice. The two of you just walking and talking about nothing special in particular. You sometimes point out some facts about you growing up around the house. "In that room, we always used to build pillow forts in." Or "I once ran against that door and lost both my front teeth. They were loose anyways", you add quickly at his concerned look.

Everything's so easy with Mattheo that it scares you. How are you supposed to go back to strangers after your arrangement has come to an end? Can you even go back to strangers? Even if Mattheo doesn't feel the same, you wish you at least could stay friends. Because he's genuinely a nice person to hang out with. It would sadden you to lose him.

The ring of a bell plucks you from your thoughts and you turn towards where the sound came from. "Oh! Dinner's ready." You lead the both of you towards the dining room, taking shortcuts and hidden doors. Mattheo chuckles as you press open another hidden panel before finally arriving in said room.

Out of habit, you go to sit at your usual place at the table and Mattheo follows you. But as he pulls the chair back, Danny is quick to sit in it. After sending a glare at your brother, you look apologetic towards the dark-haired boy. His eyes scan the room and the only free seat is right in front of you, between Herbert and Felix.

Mattheo sighs and takes place on the empty seat. He feels your brothers stare at him, and he does his best to try and act normal. He smiles politely and answers any questions your mother asks him. Eventually, he learns that — who he believes is Felix — is a beater for the Caerphilly Catapults. His wife plays for the Holyhead Harpies and that's how they met each other.

Dinner seems to pass by smoothly — not counting the snarky remarks of the twins. But they're dicks. As everybody starts to collect the dishes, your father clears his throat. "Why don't you all go outside and...", he glances towards Mattheo, "Take a lap around the fountain so Mattheo and I can have a heart-to-heart."

Both you and Mattheo send slightly panicked looks towards each other as he gets led away by your father. As your brothers let out an 'oooh', you jab Danny in his side with your elbow. He rubs his side with a slight pout and you poke out your tongue.

"The last one is a rotten egg!", yells Victor and he sprints towards the back door. You let out a curse and start sprinting after him, the others following.

While you and your brothers race towards the burrow, Mattheo gets led towards your father's office. He anxiously takes place in the chair in front of your father's desk. The man leans forward and studies the Slytherin boy with narrowed eyes.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?", he asks, getting straight to the point.

What are his intentions? Well... he can think of a few things. But none are parent-approved answers. "I like her. I really do, Sir. I wouldn't dare to hurt her." Because that is the truth. He always had a crush on you, but getting to know you? You're everything and so much more than he imagined.

Your father hums. "I ask this because I have received some chatter that you've been in a... physical altercation with one Malcolm Preece. So, Mattheo, what is the deal with that?" He leans back in the leather chair, one brow raised.

For the first time in a while, Mattheo feels genuinely nervous. And it's not the same kind of nervous before he took you out on your first date. No. This is a different kind of nervousness. A deep-down fear to disappoint the people who he cares about.

And yes, you are one of those people he realises. He cares about you the most.

Lying will do no good. Because, as your father has shown, he somehow has a way to get information about what happens at school. "In all honesty, sir, Preece was threatening your daughter. They broke up and he kept bothering her. It... indeed got physical because some guys don't know when to take a hint."

Your father purses his lips, his eyes scanning over Mattheo's face. Searching for a sign of dishonesty. But he finds none.

"Did you at least get him good?"

That makes the dark-haired boy laugh. "Yes, sir. He won't dare to bother her again."

Your father stands up from his chair and holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake. With a smile and a firm handshake, he says, "You did good son. Now, I believe someone's way too anxious to wait a second longer." He points towards the door, where a shadow is seen pacing under through the crack.

Mattheo closes the door behind him and sees you look at him with wide eyes, chewing on your thumb. "How did it go? What did Dad say?" You fling your arms around him and press your cheek against his shoulder.

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. "Don't worry. Everything's fine." When you look up at him, he cradles your face and wipes away some stray dirt. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it", he smiles.

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile. "Fine. You know what, if we leave now, we maybe have some time left before curfew."

A smirk grows on Mattheo's face while he wetts his bottom lip. "And do what?"

"I don't know", you shrug playfully, pulling him with you, "We will see."

"Absolutely not", says your mother when you come and say your goodbyes. "Your room is already set up. Fresh sheets and everything! Wasn't that clear from my letter?"

Your eyes dart nervously towards Mattheo, who gives you the same look. You silently ask him if he's okay with it. If he's not uncomfortable. He shrugs. He's not too bothered by the idea of staying over.

A sigh escapes you. "Fine. But we don't have anything to sleep in."

Your mother claps in her hands and gets up from the couch, motioning for the both of you to follow her. She leads you through the house, towards your bedroom.

The smell of clean cotton hits you as soon as you enter your room and you breathe in the smell. That's one of the many things you miss about your home. The house elves of Hogwarts don't use the same detergent as your mother and it just hits a special spot in your brain when you finally smell it.

"I'll grab a pair of Felix's clothes for you, Mattheo." Your mother pats his shoulders before exiting the room.

The boy in question stands in the middle of your bedroom and a smile grows on his face. He can't explain why but it so much you. In the short period he has gotten to know you, this is exactly the type of room he imagined you to have. Maybe with fewer plants.

A four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room, facing a fireplace. On top of the bed grows some hanging plants that spread onto the walls and turn into wallpaper. There's a cosy-looking chair next to the fireplace with tons of pillows and blankets.

You watch him eyeing the chair and you mention towards it. "You can sit in it if you want. It gives you also a really nice view over the garden."

Mattheo does so, burying himself between the pillows. The garden is almost too perfect with the way it's lit up by floating lights and lightningbugs. When he looks back at you to comment on the beautifulness, he sees you pull away the many pillows from your bed into a trunk at the front of your bed and readying the bed for sleeping.

"I... I can sleep on the ground- if you're more comfortable with that. I could even fall asleep in this chair."

You stop what you're doing and look at him with such a scandalised look that it makes him shrink. "Uhm how about no? I dragged you into this, like hell I let you sleep on the floor!"

Your mother comes back at the right time with a pair of joggers and a shirt in her hands. She gives him a warm smile as she hands him the clothing, instructing him to where the bathroom is. Mattheo takes that as his saving grace to get a moment of his own. He has to admit, your family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot. And he has nobody to blame for it except himself.

Not that he blames himself. He's quite enjoying himself, being with you, meeting your parents and seeing where you grew up. He now gets why you are how you are. How you can shine so bright because your parents do everything to lighten you.

When he comes back you are also changed in quite the same outfit as him. You are sitting on your bed, nervously nibbling on the side of your thumb. He strides towards you and grabs your hand, stopping you from destroying your nailbed and making you look up at him.

"Are you okay", he asks, interlacing your fingers.

You nod with a hum, eyes focused on your interlinked hands. "Yeah... I'm just tired from today." You run a hand over your hair, brushing some stray strands out of your face. "Are you okay?"

Mattheo lets out a light-hearted scoff. "Don't worry about me, lovely. My family is much much worse."

You blink, wanting to ask more. But a knock on your door stops you. Your father stands in the door opening, Victor looming over his shoulder and glaring daggers at Mattheo.

"Will you do your old man a favour and keep the door open? I know it makes you uncomfortable, hun. But I don't think I have to explain why?" He motions with his eyes towards how close the two of you are and with a sigh, you nod.

The house is so old that it creaks and groans with even the slightest breeze. And it freaks you out when you hear it at night. Are you saying that this centuries-old house doesn't have ghosts? Likely.

As your dad walks away, Victor takes a step forward, his jaw taut. "You", he points towards the dark-haired boy, "I'm right next door and these walls aren't as thick as they seem. I will hear everything. No funny business!"

Mattheo sends him a charming smile that you know will irritate Victor. "I promise." But when he turns around when Victor storms away, he shows you his crossed fingers. You let out a giggle and swat him.

After that you take it as a cue to get ready to sleep so you crawl under the covers. Mattheo positions himself between you and the open door and the two of you lay on your backs, staring up at the canopy.

It... feels weird having Mattheo Riddle next to you in your bed. The even weirder feeling is the desire to keep him there.

You turn so you're facing him, your hands tucked under your pillow. "I've been wondering... When you spoke in Parsletongue, what did you say?"

Mattheo tenses slightly before turning towards you, a pink flush heats up his cheeks. His eyes trace every inch of your face, taking in the details; moles, freckles, perfect imperfections. It makes him want to reach out and trace every one of them.

"Oh I don't remember", he says offhandedly, his eyes fleeing yours.

You scoot closer, a mischievous smile on your face. "Yes, you do! Please tell me. It can't be that embarrassing."

His lips part and the same sounds fill the room, raising goosebumps on your arms. "You are... you are the most beautiful person I know and I don't know if I can keep pretending that this is fake."

Your smile melts off your face and you look with wide eyes towards him. An unsure look fills his eyes as his brows knit together. "Say something", he whispers- begs. A hesitant hand reaches out and gets placed on your cheek.

Your heart beats a million miles an hour and every word just escapes your brain. So you do what you have been wanting to do for a while now. And you kiss him. Pressing your lips against his, you close your eyes while your hand travels from his wrist to his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

Mattheo lets out a surprised humph, his eyes wide as he watches your eyes flutter close. He breathes in deeply before kissing you back, pulling you closer.

Two pairs of lips mould against each other while Mattheo's hand slides down and grips your thigh, wrapping your leg around his middle. Your body melts against his as the kiss grows more fierce, lips parting and tongues exploring each other's mouths.

A low growl emits from Mattheo as you part, your chest raising and falling rapidly. He zeros in on your neck and decides then and there how kissable the skin looks and that it needs to be marked.

Your head gets thrown back as Mattheo attacks your neck with kisses, licks and bites and you do your best to suppress the breathy moan that wants to escape you. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze close.

Mattheo's lips travel down, tracing the shape of your throat with his teeth and he flips the both of you over, hovering above you. He relishes in your bitten raw lips and the half-lidded look you give him. The way your chest raises and makes your shirt tighten... he thanks whatever god there is out there that made this possible.

His admiring takes too long in your opinion and you grab the back of his head, yanking him down so he kisses you again. Mattheo complies and cradles your face, his big hands engulfing your cheeks, feeling the heat underneath them.

He pecks your lips a few times before trailing down, Mattheo's hands finding the hem of your sleep shirt. He glances at you and only continues after a nod. He pushes your shirt up, above your breast while his lips trail from your chin, neck, and collarbones, to your sternum.

When he flattens his tongue tentatively against one of your nipples, a moan escapes you. It makes him smirk against your skin, doing it again.

"Matt... ah!", you squeak out, gripping his shoulder.

His tongue swirls against the nub and one of his hands reaches up, clasping a hand over your mouth to silence the sweet noises pouring out of your mouth. Your tongue swipes over one of his fingers. Mattheo presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger against your tongue before sliding into your mouth.

A 'mmph' escapes you while you suck around his digits, hands trying to ground yourself as everything feels too much; his tongue against your boob, his fingers in your mouth, and something hard pressing against your core.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and your nails rake up against his bare back. He moans against you and releases your nipple with a 'pop'. He looks at you with dark eyes and swollen lips while he lowers himself towards your core.

While his fingers dance over the elastic of your underwear, you push his fingers out of your mouth. "Matt wait..."

As if your words scorched him, he's off you immediately, his chest raising rapidly and face flushed. "I'm-I'm sorry. I got a little carried away..."

You sit up, pushing your shirt down and shaking your head. "No... please don't- it's okay. I-I enjoyed it too. It's just...", you cradle his face and peck his lips, "I don't want our first time to be in my childhood bedroom and avoid making too much noise."

Mattheo leans into your touch and kisses your palm. You pull him down with you and lay on top of his chest. When you move your legs, you accidentally bump against his boner. You sputter out an apology, feeling bad for blue-balling him.

His hands grab your hips tightly and he presses you closer against his body. He brings his lips towards your ear. "Don't worry about it, Princess. Because when I have the chance, I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget our whole relationship was fake to begin with."

Oh Gods, you created a monster...

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