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#where is the halo filter

moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Poly!EMT!Marauders x reader where they are in an established relationship and she gets really hurt… I’m a slut for hurt/comfort and protective bfs

Thanks for requesting!

cw: bike accident, injuries, concussion

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

You don’t remember getting out your phone, but Remus answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“I…um…”

The woman who’d stopped to help eases the phone out of your grasp, putting it to her ear. “Hello?”

She starts to fill Remus in on what’s happened. A car moved into the bike lane, probably by mistake. They didn’t see you. You’d panicked, throwing yourself away from it and out of the road. You’d hit the ground hard. The car had kept going. You’re not sure you can move.

Your body, the entire left side, is in agony, stinging and burning and throbbing all at once. The ground is cold, seeping through your clothes. Your head is warm, though. Fuzzy.

“Dove?” There’s an insistent tapping at your cheek. “Dove, come on, lovely.”

Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. Something pushes against a sore spot on your head, and a whine escapes you.

“There you go, just open your eyes.” Remus’ face is in front of yours, his eyes flitting between your eyes and something else. “Good job. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

You make a sound somewhere between a hum and a moan.

“Do you know where you are?”

You squint up at him. The sun filters through your boyfriend’s hair like a halo. “A car almost hit me.”

Remus’ eyebrows draw further together. “I heard, honey. Can you tell me what day it is?”

“Mhm.”

He waits a second. “What day?”

“What?”

“It’s Tuesday,” the woman says helpfully.

Her voice comes from over by the road. You try to turn your head to find her, to say thank you, but Remus stops you with a hand on your jaw.

“Thank you,” he calls to her. “I’m just testing her for a concussion, though.”

You think you see him roll his eyes when he turns back towards you.

“Okay.” He sets a hand on top of your head, warm and weighty and reassuring. You close your eyes, savoring the touch. “Hey, eyes open.” There’s a gentle stroke at your cheek, then a hard tap. You look at him. “Sorry, love, you’ve gotta stay awake. James and Sirius are on their way, okay?”

“They…” You feel your eyebrows pinch. “They’re at work.”

“I know. They’re coming in the ambulance, to help.”

You feel the beginnings of a groggy sort of terror. It chills your blood and clogs your airways. You don’t want to go to the hospital. You want Sirius and James, but you want them to take you home. You want the soft warmth of your bed, not needles and prodding and the harshness of all those sounds and lights.

“Hey,” Remus says. His thumb strokes at your temple. You hear a shrill wailing in the distance, coming towards you. “Hey, look at me—you’re safe, honey.” His eyebrows press close together as he looks into your eyes, imploring. “It’s going to be okay.”

The ambulance gets there quicker than you can respond, or maybe you just sit in silence until it arrives. Time is moving oddly. Your breath seems to take ages to pass through your lungs, but in a blink Sirius is hopping out of the van, jogging to your side.

“She’s got a concussion, definitely dislocated shoulder and likely broken wrist,” Remus calls as he approaches.

“Got it.” Sirius crouches in front of you. “Hello, gorgeous. Rough morning?”

“A little.”

He grins, lopsided and a bit strained. “Looks like it. Well don’t worry, our first order of business is getting you on some pain meds.”

“I don’t want a needle.”

Sirius’ smile slips a bit. “Sure you do, dollface. Trust me, it’ll help.”

“You’re going to be in so much less pain with an IV,” Remus reasons, still stroking your hairline. “You won’t even know it’s there.”

“I don’t…”

James comes over with a gurney. “How’s our girl doing?”

“Great.” Sirius takes the hand on your uninjured side, giving it a little squeeze. “We’re gonna need a splint and a sling, but she should be okay to move.”

The boys don’t need much talking to coordinate, and a second later you’re being transferred onto the gurney. Remus and James hold your injured arm tight to your side, and still a muffled groan tears from between your teeth.

“I know, sweetheart.” James kisses your forehead as they stand the gurney up. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He’s holding something to your head. You try to look up at it, but you can’t. “What is that?”

“This? It looks like, uh…a dish towel? Rem?”

Remus shrugs, crawling up into the ambulance. “I knew she was bleeding, and I took what was on hand.”

Bleeding. You had been bleeding, you remember. You wonder how much you’d lost. You feel a bit less foggy now, though still a bit dazed.

“How bad is it?” you ask James quietly.

“Not bad,” he tells you, looking at you as he says it so you’ll know he’s being honest. He helps Sirius lift you into the ambulance. “You’ll need a couple of stitches, but it won’t be horrid.”

You must pale at the mention of stitches, because Remus gives you a sympathetic look, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “Don’t worry about it right now, dove. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not on shift, so I can stay after the boys drop us off.”

“Fuck that,” Sirius says, lifting the dish towel from your head to get a look at the cut. “I’m staying too.”

“It’s been a slow day,” James agrees. “If they need us for anything, we’ll go back out.”

Sirius huffs. “We’ll see.” He presses some gauze over your cut, taping it down.

James goes to the window at the front, telling the paramedic driving that you’re good to go. You feel something cold on your arm, and look over to see Remus cleaning the crook of your elbow with a wipe just before Sirius blocks your view with his hand. He tilts your head back towards him.

“Look at me,” he instructs. “You’re okay, baby.”

You try to look back towards Remus, but Sirius’ hand is firm, keeping you still.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he offers. “We’re going to give the pain meds a few minutes to kick in, then put your wrist in a brace. Our best bet for your shoulder is just to keep it still until” —You hiss as you feel the small needle pierce your skin, and Sirius’ brows twitch together commiseratingly— “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll keep your shoulder still until we get to the hospital, and there, they’ll set that, stitch your head up, and give you a cast for your wrist. Sound okay, doll?”

“Yeah,” you manage.

He presses his lips to your forehead, letting them sit there for a second before pulling away. When he moves his hand, Remus has just finished taping down the IV.

He runs his thumb over the delicate skin of your forearm fondly. “You’re doing so well, dove.”

“Thanks,” you squeak, and your vision blurs frustratingly. You press your lips together.

“Hey, what’s up?” James’ tone is light, but you can hear the worry behind it. “Is it the pain?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as tears slip down your face. You’ve got no good hands to wipe them with, an IV in one arm and the other limp and useless.

“You’re alright.” Remus rubs your good shoulder. His voice is low and tranquilizing. “Take a breath.”

“I—I can’t stop.” Your breath comes in embarrassing, ragged gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, angel,” James says. “Just breathe.”

You try, filling your lungs as best you can with your eyes still squeezed shut. The hot tears remind you of the feeling of warm blood on your face, and that only makes you cry harder. Remus rubs your shoulder, murmuring quiet assurances.

After a while, Sirius speaks tentatively. “The meds should be working by now,” he says. “Do you feel any better?”

You sniff. You hadn’t even noticed the pain fading. “Yeah, I—I think so.”

“Okay.” He thumbs at your tears almost apologetically. “We’re gonna use this blow-up thingy to stabilize your wrist.”

“It shouldn’t hurt too badly,” James says, taking your hand in his, “but if it does, just give me a squeeze, okay?” He smiles. “You can break my hand a little if you need to. Then we’ll really be in this together.”

You do your best to smile back at him. He looks like he appreciates it.

“Deep breaths,” Remus reminds you as they pump up the splint.

You tear up again and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of James’ hand, but it’s over quicker than you expected. Sirius kisses your hairline.

“Now we’re just waiting,” he reassures you. “We can’t do anything else until we get there.”

You’re relieved. “Hey, what happened to that lady?”

“Who?”

“The lady who was…she was there.”

“The woman who helped you call me?” Remus asks. “She left.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, honey. Just before James and Sirius got to us. You don’t remember?”

“Wait, was that the driver?” Sirius asks. “She didn’t stay?”

“No.” Remus’ tone turns sour. “The driver didn’t stop.”

You don’t have to look at Sirius to feel his ire. It comes off him like waves of heat. “Fucker,” he seethes.

“Sirius,” James says warningly.

“I think it was an accident,” you say, trying to calm him.

“Hitting a biker is an accident.” Sirius’ voice is low and dangerous. “A careless, idiotic accident, but leaving them, without even knowing what happened, is fucking—”

“Sirius,” Remus says sternly. “Not the time, love.”

Sirius looks at you, softening. “Sorry, doll, you know I’d never leave you. But after we’re done here, I’m quitting my job to hunt that prick down.”

“Full time?” James asks curiously. “Like what, Liam Neeson or something?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Doesn’t seem like a great way to make money.”

“You won’t cover my portion of the rent for a couple months while I avenge our cruelly maimed sweetheart?” Sirius is aghast. “Have you no sense of justice?”

“Am I maimed?” you ask, part joking but part genuinely alarmed.

“Of course not, love,” Remus assures you quickly. He shoots Sirius a vexed look. “Maiming implies a permanency that doesn’t apply here. You’ll be fine.”

“I was really just talking about the injustice part of it,” Sirius admits.

“I’d rather not be avenged,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it if we got to keep you, and you didn’t hunt anyone down or get thrown in prison or anything.”

“Mmm, I’ll consider it.” He kisses just above your eyebrow. “Say I abandon my vigilante life, what could I do instead that would make you feel better?”

“A hug?”

“Let me see what I can do.”

1K notes · View notes

forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 9 months

Text

That's What Friends Are For Pt. 2- E.M.

I'm so thankful for all of the love on part one! I love each and every one of you, and I hope that you enjoy!

The morning after Eddie helps you with your first orgasm, you get to experience more new things.

Part 1

Masterlist

TW- 18+ Minors DNI, smut, cursing, pnv, first time, pet names (angel, sweetheart, baby), a lil crying (the good kind), slight fingering, handjob (lmk if I missed any!)

Pairings- Virgin!Bestfriend!Reader x Eddie

Word Count- 4,402

(Gifs not mine, Credit to owners!)

With a deep breath, your mind comes close to consciousness, rolling over into the warm being lying next to you. You’re about to delve back into the depths of sleep when you feel his arm snake over your waist, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss into your hair. You hum in satisfaction, cracking your eyes open with a smile forming on your lips, eyes searching for Eddie.

You look up at him through the bleary film of sleep and find him looking down at you, the morning light filtering through the curtains and highlighting the sweet freckles littered across his nose and cheeks. The bun he slept in is almost completely unraveled, wild curls formed in a sort of halo around him. “Good morning, gorgeous,” He says quietly. He still has the rasp of sleep in his voice, so you know he hasn’t been awake long. You take another deep breath and stretch your toes down, arms up in a catlike motion that loosens your muscles.

“Morning, handsome,” Your sleepy smile makes him chuckle, and he presses another kiss to your hair, the hand over your waist rubbing sweet circles on the exposed skin where your shirt had hiked in your sleep.

“How are you feeling?” There’s a quirk of his eyebrow, almost imperceptible. There’s a subtext there: Do you remember and/or regret what we did last night?

You stretch up a hand to his face, letting your thumb brush over his cheekbone before gently pulling him down to meet your lips. It’s a sweet kiss, slow and thoughtful. Last night was fucking awesome, it says. “I feel perfect,” If Eddie were a cartoon, he swears he’d have hearts and stars floating around his head at the way you look, the way you feel, the way you speak to him, and he curses himself for not snatching you up sooner. “What time is it?” It’s a Saturday. You don’t have to work today, but checking the clock when you wake up is always part of your routine.

Eddie reaches for the windowsill next to his bed to pick up his watch, to glance at the face. His lean arms and broad hands bring back memories from last night so abruptly it almost makes your head spin. You feel a twitch between your thighs. “A little after ten,” He says, putting the watch back. “Why, do you have plans today?”

“No, not really. But we could go to that farmer’s market later today if we wanted to. I like that stand that sells all those different kinds of honey,” Your hand finds his chest, fingers lightly tracing the tattoos you’ve memorized every detail of.

“And what would we do if we didn’t want to?” He asks, eyebrow raised playfully. You feel your heart leap in your chest, what would you do?

“I dunno. We could go get something from Benny’s. Or go see a movie,” You suggest. Eddie plays like he’s lost in thought, fingers drumming on his chin as he considers the options. “Or... We could lay in bed all day.”

His eyes flick to you, “That sounds like a good option,” The lopsided, dimpled smile you love so much pulls at his lips before he dips his head down to capture you in a kiss again, and you giggle into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, calloused fingers digging lightly into your side. When you part, you rub your noses against each other, both of you still smiling.

“Can I ask you something?” You mutter, the cogs turning in your head.

“Anything,” Eddie presses a kiss to your nose, then your forehead. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling so much.

“I know we didn’t really say it last night, but I was wondering if we were like... boyfriend-girlfriend now? Or... I don’t know. Are we putting a label on us?” There’s a bit of hesitation in your voice, but not enough to really alarm Eddie.

“Do you want to be boyfriend-girlfriend?” He asks, eyes widened a bit. You bite your lip and nod sheepishly, your fingers curling around the hair at the back of his neck. You didn’t think it was possible for his smile to be any more radiant than usual, but it is then as he leans in to kiss you again, the hand on your waist going to your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his large hand. It makes you dizzy, and you run your hands down his back, the kiss deepening as you open your mouths to each other. As you rake your hands back up Eddie’s back, there’s a noise from the back of his throat, one that sets your nerves on fire. It’s so beautiful that you do it again, with the same glorious result.

There’s a pounding in your chest as Eddie moves his lips down to your neck, and yours miss his skin so much you press them anywhere you can reach— the edge of his jaw, his shoulder, the base of his neck—and when Eddie sucks at that sweet spot below your ear, you let out a little whine, hands tightening around his lean frame again. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” He mutters against your skin. “I’m such an idiot for not doing this sooner,”

You want to protest, to tell him that you’re the idiot for not bucking up sooner, but his hand roams up your side, over your ribs and you can’t help but sigh. “Eddie...” It’s all you can get out. It’s like you’re on drugs all over again, but the only drug here is the intoxicating feeling of Eddie—his hands, his mouth, his body—all over you.

Eddie moves so that he’s hovering over you between your legs, and you whimper, loudly and unexpectedly, as he grinds against you. You can feel him throbbing through your shorts and his pants, and it’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever felt. Of course, that position doesn’t have much competition at this point, but nevertheless, it’s like your head is stuffed with cotton candy. You instinctively push your hips up to meet his, and Eddie moans again, a needier sound this time that has you feeling almost feral.

Your hands fumble around, searching for the waistband of his pants, desperate to feel him, but Eddie pulls back, both of you panting lightly. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know I said if you still wanted to in the morning, we could, but I...” He looks away, not being able to find the words.

You bite your lip, eyes wide and wanting. “Eddie, look at me,” You plead. There’s a worry on his face as he does, his chocolate eyes soft and gorgeous. “I want you so bad I feel like I could burst into flames. I have wanted you for as long as I’ve known you. I have thought of this, dreamed of this, for years. You are my best friend and I trust you with my life. So please...”

“All I’m saying is that we don’t have to do this now. We can wait if you—”

“Edward Munson, if you don’t get down here and do me right now I swear to god!” You threaten, and Eddie lets out a bubble of laughter from his throat at your seriousness.

“Okay, okay, quit yanking my leg! I just wanted to make sure.” You smile at his smile and then you’re kissing again, all tongues and teeth as you paw at his pants again, nearly drooling at the thought of touching him. Eddie’s hand smooths down your body to your thigh, holding it up against his hip, fingertips digging deliciously into the meat of it.

“Please,” You gasp between kisses, “c-can I touch you?” Eddie groans, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head.

“God, yes,” You finally manage to get your fingers below his waistband, searching for his long, throbbing length that’s already painfully straining against his pants. When you touch it, it’s like you’ve been shocked by an electrical socket, right between your thighs. It’s so much warmer than you expected it to be, and softer, the skin smooth save for the thick vein running up the side. Though you can’t see it yet you know it’s going to be absolutely perfect. You gently grasp it as best you can in your position and give a experimental stroke. “Oh, my god. Fuck, angel,” Eddie gasps, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You bite your lip and stroke again, studying the way it feels in your hand. You’ve heard about what this is like from the few girlfriends you have. You can’t do it too hard, or it hurts like a bitch, You remember your friend saying. When you slide your hand up, you feel moisture dripping from the tip, and you gasp at the sensation. It’s hot and thick, and you get the sudden urge to taste it, but you hold back.

Eddie’s having a rough time focusing on anything other than the feeling of his cock in your hand. The sounds he’s making have you getting hotter by the second, but you’re enjoying how much Eddie’s enjoying this, so you don’t mind. You try squeezing a little harder, not much, just enough to make a difference, and Eddie bites into your collarbone lightly, making you shiver. His hand on your thigh grips you harder. “If you- If you want me to last, sweetheart,” He pants, “You’re gonna need to stop that soon,” He involuntarily ruts into your hand then with another beautiful whimper.

Suddenly, you don’t know if you want him to last. As much as you want him inside you, you also really enjoy the thought of making him unravel just like this. You gently pull your hand away, collecting the drips of precum at the tip before pulling out of his pants, and you marvel at the clear, sticky liquid pooled on your fingers before tentatively brushing it across your tongue. Eddie stares wide, mouth hung open like he’s seeing a fucking unicorn. “You’re fucking perfect,” He muses.

You giggle, a blush growing on your cheeks. “I wanna see it,” You confess, eyes wide and doe-like. Eddie nods, his lips kiss swollen and pink as he sits up on his knees between your thighs. His fingers find the waistband of his pants and he shimmies them down, his cock bouncing up to lightly slap against his abdomen as he kicks the pants off his feet. “Oh my god,” You whisper.

If you had to guess, you would say he’s about 7 inches. There’s a slight curve to it, and the tip is almost a hot pink and messy with precum. Your mouth starts watering again at the sight of it. Screw using your hand, you want him inside you. Now. “You want me to get your shorts off?” He asks, his voice husky from lust. You nod wildly, already lifting your butt off the mattress to help him. He hooks his fingers under the waistband and lowers his head to the tops of your thighs to kiss the skin there as he pulls them down. You let out a sharp whine at the new sensation and Eddie hums happily against you as you writhe beneath him. He sits up to pull the shorts from your legs to toss them to the floor with his pants, and just like last night, he looks at you beneath him like he’s just been served a gourmet meal. “So fucking beautiful,” You sit up then, reaching out to touch along his sides, breathing heavily as you press your lips to the space between his thighs and stomach. Eddie gasps above you, his head rolled back as you trace your tongue in little patterns, mirroring the path he took with his mouth on you.

You reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, wanting to be naked with him, wanting for every inch of skin to touch him when he marks you from the inside. You reach up to his neck and pull him down with you, mouths finding each other as you rest your head back on Eddie’s pillow. Eddie takes his time to peruse your newly naked skin with his mouth, kissing over the mounds of your breasts before gently pulling a nipple into his mouth. You moan deeply, tangling your fingers through his hair as he sucks gently, running his tongue over the hardened bud before seeking the other one. “God, Eddie, fuck. Please, I need you... Please,” you beg, sending your hips up in search of him. Eddie shushes you, bringing his lips back to yours.

“I know, baby, I know,” He murmurs against your lips. “I’ve got you,” He leans over to his bedside table, pulling the drawer open. He fumbles through the junk for a moment before fishing out a little foil packet, which he rips open with his teeth. He tries putting the condom on with one hand while he supports himself with the other, but he fumbles, so you reach your hand down to help him, rolling it down to the base of his cock, earning another moan from him at the mere feeling of you.

He looks back to your face, the hand not supporting him goes to your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “This might hurt. I’m gonna go as slow as I can, but you’ll tell me if I need to stop, right?” He searches your eyes for any doubt.

“I will,” You promise with a little nod. He mirrors your nod as he leans to kiss you again, and his hand goes down to the space between the two of you to position himself correctly to slide into you. He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your slit for a moment to spread the wetness before slowly, so slowly, he starts pushing himself past your tight entrance.

You both gasp at the same time, clutching each other as you adjust. There’s a burn as you stretch open around him, and you’re not sure if going slow helps or hurts, but you can’t even think straight to decide. Behind the burn of being split open is a mind-crushing pleasure that has you curling your toes and arching your back. “Oh my god, oh my god,” You hear yourself cry.

“I know, baby, fuck...” Eddie’s eyes are screwed shut, you assume to focus on not completely slamming into you. “So fucking tight, angel...” He mutters. It’s hard to keep your breath with the way you’re panting, but you try to focus on it as he inches into you. He whispers encouragement to you as he sinks in deeper and deeper until you feel him so deep you know he won’t be able to go any further.

“Fuck, I feel so... full.” Your eyes screw shut as you feel the pressure of his head against your cervix. Eddie gives a strained chuckle and sighs.

“I’m not even all the way in, sweetheart. I’m gonna have to do a better job warming you up next time. I just needed to fucking feel this,” He hangs his head against your chest, and your hands go to his hair, smoothing it out away from his face. You’re hips suddenly move on their own, and you both hiss a breath of pleasure at the delicious friction. “Oh fuck! Jesus, angel, you’re so fucking needy for it,” He moans, pressing hot, wet kisses to your shoulder before starting back up toward your face.

“I-I’m sorry!” Your head is buzzing like a beehive, the only word you’re able to consciously focus on is EddieEddieEddieEddie. Eddie captures your lips again, your tongues smoothing across each other.

“Don’t worry. I just didn’t expect it is all,” He heaves a breath, scrunching his eyes closed. “I- I think I need to start moving now, though. It’s a crime to sit still while I’m inside you,” The erotic praise sends another shockwave through you, and you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, please do that,” You hang your head back on the pillow to let him do pretty much whatever he wants. You don’t know what you’re doing so you have to trust him to show you everything. He pulls out slowly, too, though not as slowly as he went in. You give a little whine as you feel the pleasure-pain again, and Eddie looks at you with alarmed eyes, but you nod at him for him to continue. He’s not all the way out when he starts pushing back in again, and you begin to feel more pleasure than pain. Your limbs are heavy and warm with pleasure as he starts setting a slow rhythm.

Eddie’s hand hoists your thigh up around his hip again, and the new angle offers deeper pleasure than before, making you moan as he pushes in again. “Oh my god,” You whine, your fingertips grasping at the skin of his back. Your lips search for Eddie’s face, and you kiss across his cheek to his lips, feeling the vibration of his moan on your mouth.

“You feel—so fucking—so fucking good, baby.” His words are strained, he’s so focused on going slow enough to not cause you pain, but he’s also suffering for it. He wants nothing more than to be able to fuck you deep into the mattress, hard and fast. But maybe next time. He’ll be good for you. He’ll be so good for you.

“A little faster, please,” You plead, your breath coming in uneven and heavy. Eddie is all to eager to provide, gradually working the pace up a bit, his hips hitting yours a bit harder in a way that makes your breasts bounce on your chest with every snap of his hips. “Oh, fuck—” He’s hit something different now, something deep inside you that makes your vision go fuzzy for a minute, then he hits it again. You let out a tense whine at the contact, and your nails dig into his back.

“You like that, angel? Fuck, does that feel good?” In a different tone, it would sound taunting, but the way Eddie’s voice drips with need, you know that he’s begging to hear the answer.

“God, yes—feels so fucking good, Ed,” You feel your eyes start to itch with tears, and you hold back a choked sob as he continues fucking into you. He presses hot kisses to your neck, and you move one of your hands to grasp at the hand supporting him on the bed. He moves to accommodate, careful to keep himself up while you thread your fingers together above your head.

“So fucking good for me. You’re so pretty, sweetheart. I’ve got you, don’t you worry.” He squeezes your hand, his other does the same to the meat of your thigh, making you buck your hips beneath him without meaning to.

You continue like this for a few minutes, suspended somewhere otherworldly as you push each other closer and closer toward that undiluted bliss you felt for the first time last night. Between the kissing and the sighs, Eddie releases the hand he’s holding. “I need you to do something, sweetheart,” He rasps. You nod eagerly, trying to keep your focus on what he’s saying to you. “I’m- fuck, I’m getting pretty close. And I want you to cum with me. So I want you to take these pretty fingers,” He leans down to kiss them one by one, nibbling on the very tips of them, “and I want you to go down and rub your clit for me, okay? You remember how I did it last night?” You nod again, beginning to run your hand down between your bodies in search of that magic button Eddie brought you to tears with.

You shiver when you brush over it, letting out a mewl. “That’s a good girl,” Eddie encourages. “Take your fingers and rub it in circles. Not too hard, you don’t want to bruise it,”

“’Kay,” You start trying to find a rhythm, starting slow, moving the pads of your fingers over the swollen bud. You start to feel it drive your pleasure forward, so you keep your focus on it, trying not to lose your rhythm.

“That’s it, angel. You’re doing so good for me. Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Don’t stop pretty girl, I wanna feel you cum on my cock,” You drink in the words like water, ignoring the pain beginning in your inexperienced wrist as you continue, pressing a bit harder, circling a little faster on instinct.

“Oh my God, Eddie,” You whine, “feels so fucking good,” You’re getting that crying feeling again now, like your body is working in overdrive to accommodate for the blanket of sensation around you.

“I know, I know, baby,” He moans, capturing you in a sloppy kiss. Your tears spill over your eyes then, falling in hot drips down your face, cooling as they reach your neck. You shiver, from that and from hitting a certain spot around your clit. You gasp, and the tension in your stomach starts building.

“Oh my God,” You whine again. “I’m-- I think I’m getting close.” You let your eyes screw shut, lewd noises spilling from your lips like a waterfall as you get closer and closer to release.

“Fuck, I know, pretty girl. I am too. So fucking close,” He’s panting above you, “Don’t you stop. Make yourself cum on my cock. I know you can do it, angel. Cum for me, please, baby. I wanna feel it,” His voice is so sweet and needy in your ear that you can feel your body begin to unravel, the tension in your stomach teetering on a tightrope.

Then, the tightrope snaps, and you have to bite back a scream, tears flooding down your face as you descend into a dizzying orgasm. Your vision blackens around the edges as your walls clamp around Eddie’s cock, and he starts spewing profanities, his thrusts get sloppier. With a low moan into your neck, you feel him twitch inside you, hips stuttering as he reaches his own peak. You keep rubbing at your clit, like Eddie did after you came last night, and it does seem to keep the waves rolling through you for a little longer. Finally, when your wrist is too tired to move anymore, you let your fingers come to a stop, and you let your hand flop to the side, both of you sucking breaths to try to regain your composure. You let your eyes flutter closed again as you let your soul return to your body, and Eddie leans down to kiss anywhere his lips can reach.

You revel in the feeling, knowing that if you died spontaneously, you’d do it with a smile, and soon Eddie is easing himself out of you, adjusting his lower body so that he can lay his head on your chest without completely crushing you. “Sweetheart?” He asks. “Are you okay?” There’s a slight laugh in his voice, but he can see the tears on your face.

In response, you raise a hand to run through his hair, not remembering how to speak yet, and give a slow nod. You can feel a smile rising on your lips, lazy and dreamy, like this had all been some beautiful fantasy of the subconscious. Finally, you start to open your eyes, and you find Eddie looking intently at your face, trying to gauge your feelings. “There you are,” He murmurs, his hand coming to brush a stray tear from your cheek.

“Here I am,” You breathe, a little bubble of laughter bursting from your throat. That makes Eddie feel better, much better. He laughs a little, too.

“How you feelin’ angel?” You sigh deeply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“I feel fantastic.” You kiss Eddie’s forehead again and press your cheek into his hair. The laugh he gives now sounds a little less hesitant with the verbal confirmation of your wellbeing.

“Good. I’m gonna get up in a minute to get you a towel, okay?” His hand slides down the length of your body, stopping to rest on your hip. You let your fingers card through his dark curls as he lightly kisses your collarbone.

“You take such good care of me,” You compliment, that dreamy tone still lilting your voice. You feel him squeeze your hip just slightly, like he’s trying to hug you while laying on you.

“Anything for my favorite girl,” You giggle. He said that last night, too. You both rest for a quiet moment then, just feeling the warmth of your bodies pressed together. Finally, after a few minutes of this, Eddie raises his head to look at you again. “You still want to go to the farmer’s market later?” You don’t know why you find this so funny, but you laugh a lot harder than you probably should.

“I don’t think so,” You say. “I don’t think we’re going to want to go very far from this bed, today,”

“Oh?” Eddie raises an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. “And why is that?”

“Because I think you’ve just created a monster,” You tell him matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how I lived so long without this.” Eddie laughs at your brazenness.

“We’ll see about that, baby. Wait until you try to stand up. We’ll see how much you want it after trying to walk,”

“Well, how about I just lay here then? Then I won’t have to worry about it!” Eddie reaches his face to meet yours, his warm lips moving over yours with increasing ease as you settle into each other like this.

“What am I going to do with you?” He asks, breath fanning over your face. Your heart breaks out in a sprint at his tender touch. You breathe another, exaggerated sigh.

“I don’t know. What are you going to do with me?” You grin playfully as he ponders this.

“Everything, I hope,” He settles on, giving you your favorite smile.

“Ooh, I can get on board with that!” With that, you pull his face toward yours, both of you laughing as you kiss each other breathless once again.

@eddiernunson @names-were-taken @unverifiedmeatsuit

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader

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soulofapatrick · 4 months

Text

Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors.

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me.

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it.

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted.

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm.

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him.

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely.

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it.

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air.

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty.

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night. The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings.

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice.

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.”

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him.

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple.

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat.

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all.

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind.

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity.

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes.

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal.

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us.

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed.

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night.

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin.

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more.

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.”

Percy Jackson Universe Masterlist - To be added TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#percy jackson #percy Jackson x reader #percy Jackson x you #percy Jackson x y/n #percy Jackson smut #percy Jackson fluff #percy Jackson angst #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo hoo toa #pjo #percy jackson series #camp half blood #pjo fandom #percy Jackson one shots #percy Jackson headcanons #Logan lerman

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skzdarlings · 2 months

Text

chill | the threesome series ; skz ; hyunjin/reader/jeongin

masterlist.

threesome series part 4/4. long awaited finale lol.

summary: when a lie about a fake boyfriend spirals out of control, your friends take it upon themselves to help.

pairing: hyunjin/reader/jeongin content info: friends to lovers romcom. fake relationship trope. sharing a bed trope. lots of teasing and bickering and indignant exclamations. some bossy dom!hyunjin and sweet jeongin. reader is described with a bigger chest. kissing w people watching. sex toys, dacryphilia, no mention of protection, threesome, explicit sexual content word count: 8440 words.

enjoy <3

Your bottom lip is already wobbling when you click call. You sprawl on your belly, front-down in a frilly pink bed in your childhood bedroom. You are visiting your parents in the countryside, miles away from your apartment in the city and miles away from your best friends.

You are calling them now, desperate for their friendly faces. Your boys are the first ones you call in any crisis. You don’t know what you would do without them. Just the thought has you sniffling despondently.

After a few more rings, Jeongin and Hyunjin answer one right after the other. Your phone is filled with three little squares of faces, theirs smiling and yours utterly miserable.

You look at those smiles and promptly burst into tears.

“Ahh!” Hyunjin wails.

“Ohh, whoa, what!” Jeongin says.

Both of them look concerned, all scrunched up brows and frowning faces. At least you think so. It is hard to see through your tears.

“Baby, baby,” Hyunjin says. At the same time, Jeongin asks, “What’s wrong?”

You cry a few more weepy sobs, then you grab the closest teddy bear and wipe your eyes on it. You sniffle and pout.

Even though you want their comfort, you can’t bring yourself to look at your friends when you admit, “I’ve been lying to my parents for months.”

“What?” Hyunjin asks.

“Huh?” Jeongin says.

You blink away your tears and look at them properly. They are the very picture of concern. They have such striking faces so their emotions are always so plain, their features sharp, with thick dark brows and sloping cheeks and full lips. Jeongin dyed his hair a fairer auburn a while ago, but Hyunjin is dark, both of them so handsome it makes you hiccup on a caught breath.

These thoughts make you feel even more pathetic. Here you are, gawking at your best friends while everything falls apart around you.

You drop your face and cry some more. They watch helplessly through their screens, saying your name and trying to calm you down.

“What happened?” Hyunjin asks when your tears have slowed.

“Remember a few months ago, when I went out with that guy who works at the coffee shop?”

“Yes, I hated him,” Jeongin says in a clipped tone while Hyunjin scoffs.

“Me too,” Hyunjin says. Their sour faces speak volumes.

“What!” This distracts you from yours tears for a moment. “You guys told me you liked him!”

“Yeah, only because you did,” Jeongin says. He is in his bedroom and he flops back on his bed, his mop of hair forming a charming halo around his head. He grins that dimpled, mischievous grin at you. “But now you don’t like him, so we hate him.”

“I always hated him,” Hyunjin says. He is sitting at his desk, lit so prettily by lamplight that it looks like a dreamy filter. He props his face in his hand and pouts dramatically. “You didn’t need him anyway, baby,” he says. “You’ve always got us.”

At the same time Hyunjin says this, Jeongin tucks a hand under his head. He is wearing a sleeveless top and his bicep flexes where his bare arm curves. Between Hyunjin’s pretty face and prettier words, and Jeongin looking like that, it is no wonder how quickly heat rushes to your face.

You bury your face in the blankets and shriek, frustrated with everything in your ridiculous life. They are still looking at you with concern when you surface.

“Sorry,” you say. “The point is, my mom would ask about him. You know what my parents are like and how much they want me to be in a relationship.”

You love your family, you do. You do not regret using visiting your parents. The dinners and tea times and game nights have been a delight. You have been proud to catch them up on your life in the city. You are happy with your life, your education and your job and your friends. Your parents are proud of you.

They just cannot help but poke that one little detail, snagging like a loose thread on a nail and unravelling your careful composition with their obvious judgement.

You are not in a relationship. You have never been in a relationship.

Oh, sure, there have been dates scattered here and there, but nothing serious. You are fine with this but your parents consider this cause for catastrophic levels of concern.

You try to show grace. Your family is only nosy out of misplaced worries, convinced that if you do not have a boyfriend then you must sobbing yourself to sleep every night. Which is not true. Well, sometimes it’s true, especially because your two best friends are the ones making your heart race, but most of the time you just eat cheese toast in bed.

To assuage the worst of their concerns, you maybe exaggerated the truth a teensy tiny bit.

“Well,” you say, “They were so happy that I went on more than one date, so it got them off my case for a while. After we went our separate ways, I sort of just… kept telling them… I was still seeing him…”

“Uh oh,” Jeongin says. Hyunjin grimaces. Yeah, your friends know you well. They have never met your family but they know the stories and they can guess where this is going.

“Yeah, uh oh is right,” you say. “My mom invited me out here for their summer party. They throw one every year to start the season. They invite the whole family and all their friends and their friends’ kids. It’s huge. I wasn’t even thinking when I said I would come because I always do. Only when I agreed did my mom tell me to bring my boyfriend for everyone to meet… at which point I remembered…”

“That you don’t actually have a boyfriend?” Jeongin asks with a quirked eyebrow. Hyunjin laughs, covering his mouth with a quick slap of his hand to hide it.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you say with a miserable whine. “It’s not funny. I messed up and now I don’t know what to tell them!”

“What did you tell them so far?” Jeongin asks while Hyunjin tries to get his face under control.

“I was going to tell them the truth when I got here,” you say. “But then they were so disappointed that my boyfriend wasn’t with me. I couldn’t disappoint them even more by saying he didn’t exist at all in the first place!”

“So you told a bigger lie instead,” Hyunjin says, tilting his head questioningly. “What did you say exactly?”

“I just said he was busy with work,” you say. “And they were really upset about it so I tried to cheer them up. I said he was going to try and make it to the party at least.”

“But he’s not real,” Jeongin says.

“Yes, Jeongin!” you squeal. “That’s the problem! And also—” A flood of tears return, blurring your vision again. “I know it’s so stupid. We’re all grown-ups now. But I was the youngest out of all the kids growing up, so I was always the dumb little tag-along. My mom has told everyone I have a boyfriend coming and if I make up an excuse tomorrow, they’re all gonna see through it. They’ll be nice to my face because we aren’t kids anymore but I already know they’re gonna talk about me and how pathetic I am.” You start crying again, looking around at the bedroom you grew up in, still filled with the books and clothes and toys you left behind after moving. It makes you feel like that little girl again. It only worsens your angst. “Tomorrow is going to be the worst day of my life,” you say.

“Aw, no, no, it won’t,” Jeongin says.

“Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Hyunjin also says. They both speak in the sweetest tones imaginable, gazing so lovingly into their cameras it makes you melt.

“You know you’re better than that,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, who cares what they think?” Hyunjin adds.

“I care,” you say in a small voice, looking away again because you feel so embarrassed. “At least a little bit. I know it’s silly.”

“It’s not,” Hyunjin says. At the same Jeongin says, “It is but it’s fine.” They both scowl at the camera as if frowning at each other. It makes you laugh through your tears. You wipe your eyes on the teddy bear again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter now,” you say. “I just have to face it. It’s my own fault. Maybe if I could just get a boyfriend for real, if I didn’t suck so much—”

“You’re perfect,” they say in unison. It seems to make all three of you look flustered at once.

“Seriously,” Hyunjin says while Jeongin clears his throat. “You’re our girl.”

“Yeah, everyone is else is just stupid,” Jeongin says.

“You only need to listen to us,” Hyunjin says.

“Listen to me, not him,” Jeongin teases. “He’s kinda stupid too.”

“Excuse me,” Hyunjin says in a perfectly catty voice. Jeongin sticks his tongue out.

Their antics make you laugh. You rest your cheek on the teddy bear and kick your legs behind you, smiling into your screen.

“Okay,” you say. “In that case, just distract me until I go to bed. It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

They both smile at you. They waste no time obliging, launching into stories and playful bickering, making you forget about everyone and everything else. They are your boys. They are all you need.

You go to bed with a smile on your face.

That smile is gone the next day. You are a bundle of raw nerves all morning. Despite the food being prepared, you cannot imagine eating, so sick to your stomach with anxiety. Your parents ask about your boyfriend and you answer in vague replies and half-promises. You claim he is still working but you are optimistic. You cry your make-up off only once, which is ten times less than you thought you would.

At least you look pretty. You bought a new dress for the occasion, a pretty floral piece that sweeps the floor with a delicate swish. If you are going to suffer, at least you will suffer beautifully.

You are standing in front of the mirror, practicing lines and excuses and grimacing at all of them. You are interrupted when your mother calls you downstairs, the first of the guests arriving.

Here goes nothing, you think.

You take a deep gulp of air and descend the stairs, plastering a big fake smile on your face as you greet the party guests.

They come in waves. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbours, friends. You greet everyone pleasantly. There are so many people and so many conversations that you manage to sink into the background of every discussion, batting queries about your own private life with questions for someone else.

You start to wonder if you worried for nothing, then someone directly asks about your boyfriend. Not just someone, but one of the girls in your age group.

“Your mother didn’t know much, she said you were quite evasive about it!” she says. She is not being unkind because she currently has no reason to believe you are lying. It will be later, when everyone realizes this mystery man is not manifesting, then everyone will start to gossip and draw conclusions. This is just the beginning of a long, agonizing party. “Is he going to be here?” she asks. “I can’t wait to meet him! He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You love your mom, but she really is such a blabbermouth.

You laugh awkwardly, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress.

“Ha-ha, yeah, I was, um, just waiting for the, uh, right person, you know,” you say.

Someone else opens their mouth to ask more when the doorbell rings.

“Oh, I better get that!” you say and leap out of your seat. You give no one a chance to protest, scampering around bodies to get out of the backyard and into the house. You run past your father who is ambling to the door, telling him you got it. You want to let the guest inside then stand in the front yard to catch your breath. Hopefully, by the time you go back, the conversation will have moved on.

You swing open the door, a polite greeting on your lips. It catches when you see who is standing there.

“Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Your best friend is standing on your porch, grinning that big cheshire cat smile. He is an absurdly sexy vision. Jeongin is a tech guy but he takes modelling gigs on the side, fashion a personal hobby to him. His auburn hair is neatly styled around his face, a slash of colour in an otherwise all-black look. It makes him look long and fit, loose pants and a dress shirt over a sleeveless top, topped with a leather jacket. A silver chain sparkles around his neck.

He swoops in and kisses your cheek, giggling to himself.

“I heard someone needed a boyfriend,” he says.

You laugh a little hysterically, all the joy returning to your body in a rush. You slap your hands on your hot cheeks and look him up-and-down.

“Oh, wow,” you say. “You shouldn’t have. But you look really good.”

Your eyes are on the tip of his black boots. He is looking at you too, his eyebrows lifted as his gaze travels down your body.

“Yeah,” he says on a breath. “You too.”

Flustered, you cover yourself then swat at him. It makes him grin again, cheek dimpled.

“Stop that,” you say. “You’re not allowed to say things like that to me. And I’ve been sweating like a stuck pig under here. I feel like I should do the grown-up thing and come clean and send you away, but I’m not gonna do that. Come on.” You loop your arm with his elbow and drag him through the house to the back yard.

Seconds before joining the party, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Then as your boyfriend, I’m allowed to tell you that you looking really fucking good. Okay?”

You very literally fall into the yard. Fortunately, Jeongin keeps his balance and yanks you upright. You stumble into his open arms, your back plastered to his chest. He is probably smiling that big grin at everyone as he keeps his arms around you.

“Hi,” he finally says and offers a little wave.

“Ahhh!” your mother screams more gleefully than a clown horn. She immediately starts hollering for your father.

“He’s inside getting some food ready, mom,” you say, covering your face in embarrassment as she scuttles up to you.

“My goodness, my goodness,” your mother says, all but throwing you to the side to get to Jeongin. “Oh, I’ve heard so much. No, actually, that’s not true, I haven’t heard anything. Tsk, crazy girl. Always with her secrets. But look at you, oh my, you’re so handsome! Look at those dimples.”

“Mom!” you wail. “Stop pinching his cheeks!”

Someone sitting nearby tugs your skirt. It is the girl from before and she is grinning. He’s hot, she mouths very blatantly, winking at you. You smile an awkward, too-wide grin, still more embarrassed than not. Everyone is chattering, looking at you and Jeongin. A couple others smile and give you a thumbs up. You pretend to be very preoccupied with a speck on your dress, focussed on scratching it off so you do not have to meet any eyes.

In the midst of all the madness, the doorbell rings again. You hear your father inside, shouting that he will get it.

“Oh, hurry up!” your mother shouts. “You have to meet—oh goodness, what is your name?” she asks, even while she has a hand in his hair.

“Ha, ah, Jeongin,” he says, managing to politely extricate himself. He takes her hand and pats it affectionately. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, then winks at you. Your mother looks at you with a delighted smile. You refrain from smacking your forehead.

At least things can’t get worse, you think, right before things get worse.

Your father steps into the yard, smiling a big smile.

“Ah, my little girl!” he says, waving at you. “Your boyfriend is here! Everybody, this is Hyunjin.”

Your heart was racing with adrenaline a moment ago. Now, it freezes solid. It feels like a cement block dropping right into your gut. You are not sure if the entire party actually goes quiet or if your ears just give up to protect you.

You are helpless, standing stock still as your other best friend steps onto the deck behind your father. Coincidentally and preposterously, he is dressed almost identical to Jeongin, all in black with a black leather jacket. He is wearing sunglasses, though, which he pushes onto the top of his head when he sees Jeongin.

Jeongin stares back at him, then he looks at you. Hyunjin looks at you. Your mother looks at you. Everyone looks at you.

“Um,” you squeak.

Wow, that speck on your dress really is so very interesting. And why is it so hard to swallow? Where is your tongue again? Oh, why did you ever have to tell such a stupid lie, just for a few moments of convenience.

You clear your throat and look up. Your voice comes in a croak when you say, “Hi, Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin,” your mother says, looking at him. He blinks at her. Jeongin is handsome but Hyunjin is the definitive pretty boy, an artist behind the camera but just as suited to a life in the spotlight. His artistic soul really shines through in every capacity. Even his smile is a work of art, delicate and sweet as he looks at your mother. He would have made a perfect fake boyfriend if you didn’t already have one.

Somehow you went from no boyfriends to two. No, not even, because they are fake. You went from no boyfriends to negative-two boyfriends. That must be a feat.

“Ohhhh,” your mother suddenly interrupts the silence. She starts giggling as she tip-toes to Hyunjin like a panther about to pounce. “I see what’s happening,” she says, looking slyly between the three of you. Then she grabs Hyunjin by the cheeks as well, shaking him around like a baby rattle. “My little girl has TWO handsome boyfriends!” she cries out ecstatically. “Oh, that’s just like her too. You know, she was a late bloomer in every respect, but always caught up and surpassed everyone after the fact. Struggled at school when she was little, then grew up and got herself on the dean’s list at university. You know she didn’t even grow breasts until she was eighteen then ballooned right up, the biggest you’ve seen!”

“Mom!”

Jeongin and Hyunjin look at your chest at the same time. You wrap your arms around yourself and frown, making them both clear their throat and look away.

“Oh, sweetie,” your mother says, finally freeing Hyunjin. He and Jeongin stand together, rubbing their cheeks. They watch as your mother takes your hand. “I understand now why you were to hesitant to give us any details. But it’s a brave new world. There’s all sorts of different loves out there. I’ve been reading books!”

“Exactly,” your father says, joining you in the middle of the party. “We would never judge you for who you love.”

“That’s great,” you say. This conversation would be really sweet if it wasn’t about your negative-two boyfriends and happening in front of fifty people. “Thanks,” you say.

Your father is holding barbeque tongs. He claps them in the air and smiles.

“Great!” he says. “Who’s hungry!”

It isn’t until much later that you get a second alone with Hyunjin and Jeongin. It is well after dinner when the sun is starting to set and the party has dispersed to different corners of the yard. Your parents are with some friends, seated around a fire, so you drag your fake boyfriends into the house and upstairs to your bedroom.

You slam the door shut.

“Seriously!” you shriek. “You didn’t think to tell each other you were going to show up to be my fake boyfriend?!”

They both look chagrined, Jeongin with his arms crossed and Hyunjin rocking on the balls of his feet. They look at each other with a grimace, then try to smile at you.

“Don’t give me that look,” you say, then groan, leaning against your closed door. You cover your face with your hands. “This is insane. My life is a joke. Hwang Hyunjin, don’t even think about touching anything.” You point to Hyunjin even though your eyes are covered. You don’t need to see him to know he is reaching for something, always sticking his gossipy nose in places it doesn’t belong. When you drop your hands, you catch him hovering near your head table. He smiles nervously. “Sit down,” you say, unamused.

Jeongin and Hyunjin plop onto the bed at the same time. They look rather ridiculous in the black and leather, contrasted to all the pink and white lace of your old bedroom. Ridiculous, yes, and definitely not stupidly sexy. The contrast between two sexy bad boys and your floral cuteness is absolutely not a turn-on. It’s not. No. No. You refuse.

“Sorry,” Jeongin finally says. “We should have checked first. With you, at least.”

“Yeah, baby, seriously,” Hyunjin says, shaking his head. “I feel really embarrassed. You know we would never want to hurt you, right?”

“You were just crying so much,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep at all last night,” Hyunjin says.

They keep speaking in their defense. You start to pout, feeling guilty, because they are so sincere in their apology. It is very obvious they did not do this to embarrass you. The complete opposite. Your friends love you so much and it is obvious in everything they do. From the day you met them, Jeongin and Hyunjin have happily dropped everything to help you with anything. No task has ever been too big or too small. If it’s for you, they will do it. You are the exception to every rule and the first call every time.

They are your boys. You are their girl.

“I’m sorry too,” you say. “In fact, I’m even more sorry. This whole thing is my fault, after all. I should have never lied in the first place.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jeongin says.

“Yeah, we all do stupid things,” Hyunjin says.

“It’s not like you knew it would get this bad,” Jeongin adds.

“I definitely don’t think she predicted this,” Hyunjin quips, looking at him. It makes Jeongin snort and Hyunjin grins.

It makes you laugh as well, though you cover your mouth to hide it.

It’s no good. Once the first giggle escape, they are relentless. The three of you laugh until there are tears in your eyes, doubled over as the silly situation washes over you. When the laughter has somewhat subdued, Hyunjin holds out a hand in offering.

“Come here,” he says.

You take his hand and he tugs you towards them. You find yourself squished between them, framed between their bodies like a little flower. Jeongin puts a hand on your lower back and Hyunjin brushes his knuckles over your cheek. Both touches are innocent but the combination has your face heating.

Not just your face. Heat rushes everywhere, cascading down your chest, swooping in your belly and lower. Your toes even curl.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hyunjin says. He smiles while holding your gaze. “You know we’ll help you no matter what, okay?”

Jeongin kisses your shoulder and you cannot hide your shiver.

“Okay,” you say in a small voice.

There is a moment of tense silence after this. You look between them and they look at you.

You all jump when there is a knock at your door. Hyunjin falls right off the bed, sprawling in an ungainly clatter of long limbs on the floor. Jeongin scoots to the side, less dramatic but still surprised. You sit straighter. Hyunjin groans and rubs his head.

The door opens and your mother pokes her head inside, smiling.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says. “But sweetie, there will be time to be alone with your boyfriends later, since I assume they’re spending the night. But right now we have company. Come spend time with the guests. Some of the others are using the hot tub and pool. Do you boys need swim trunks? Yes? I’ll go find some, give me a second.”

No one gets an opportunity to even answer. She closes the door and disappears as quickly as she came.

There is another beat of silence, then Jeongin says, “We’re spending the night, I guess?”

“Ow,” Hyunjin says. “I think I bruised my elbow.”

“Oh my god,” you say.

You putter around the poolside until the sun fully sets. When it gets dark, the pool lights start to flicker in rainbow patterns so the others gravitate there, splashing through the luminescence.

You and the boys wander to the hot tub while it is empty. Jeongin sinks right in like he does not even feel the heat while Hyunjin has to make a dramatic show about every inch of skin that touches it. You and Jeongin look at each other with matching quirked eyebrows. You smile affectionately.

“What? It’s hot,” Hyunjin says, finally sitting.

“That is how they work,” Jeongin replies.

You giggle but also drop your gaze. Your mother managed to find swim clothes that would mostly fit the boys. Jeongin is shirtless in swim trunks, his wet hair slicked back, that handsome face and all those lean muscles on display. When did he get so damn fit? He was always athletic in a subtle, svelte way, but his arms and back ripple with definition now.

Hyunjin is in a wet suit, one that stops at the knee and elbow. He is more covered but the solid black swimsuit makes him look so long and lean. His hair is also damp. You watch as he rakes his fingers through it, tucking it behind his ears. He really is absurdly good looking.

You blame the heat under your skin on the jets.

“Psst,” Jeongin suddenly whispers. His foot nudges yours under the water. “Is that them?” he whispers.

You try to be subtle, turning your head to see who is there. A few younger people are sitting in some pool chairs under a torch, chatting and occasionally glancing in your direction. It is a few of the people you grew up with, the ones you told the boys about.

You nod at Jeongin, smiling shyly. You look down at your legs through the rippled distortion of water. You are wearing a simple one-piece, just as pink and floral as your dress, still a contrast to your boys.

You look at them in time to catch a mutual nod. You were spread around the hot tub, a reach of space between your bodies, but they slide until they are pressed up on either side of you. You look between them, curling your hands in nervous fists on your chest.

“What is it?” you whisper.

“We’re your boyfriends,” Hyunjin whispers with a smile. “Shouldn’t we sit close to you?”

“Oh,” you squeak. “I suppose that’s true.” You swallow, looking at him then at Jeongin. Your heart is pounding against your hands. The combination of heat and desire is making you more than a little dizzy. “Wh-what else should we be doing?” you ask before thinking twice. Vocalizing your internal thought only intensifies your fantasies, your mind supplying plenty of mental images of what you would be doing in this hot tub if they were really your boyfriends.

Oh, you are definitely getting dizzy, but it is not just the jets.

Hyunjin and Jeongin look at each other, both of them surprised by your forward question. Jeongin laughs because that is his instinct, that dimple never shy. Hyunjin has more of a smirk than a smile. He pokes his tongue into his cheek and lifts his eyebrows when you look at him. It is a teasing expression. It makes you dissolve into nervous giggles, sinking lower into the water.

He grabs you before you can disappear under the surface. And it is a grab. Between Hyunjin and Jeongin, you always suspected Hyunjin would be a gentle lover. He is so gushy and romantic while Jeongin tends be more frank about things. But it is Jeongin who gently strokes a hand down your arm, who laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

Hyunjin reaches right under the water, stopping your descent with a hand on the back of your neck. Your eyes widen as he yanks you up, not choking but certainly in control. Your mouth falls open with surprise. Much to your embarrassment, you moan before he even kisses you, the sound escaping of its own volition as he tilts his head and leans in.

Oh, his mouth is gentle even if he is not. His hand is on your jaw, firm, holding your face where he wants it, but his lips are so soft and warm. He kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth and sighing against your lips. You steal a breath as well, your mouth open against his. That breath catches when Jeongin kisses the nape of your neck, then your shoulder.

They both have big hands, long fingers, slender but strong. You melt between them, all heat and need.

You turn to Jeongin, breathless with desire. His eyes are dark, lids heavy. You have never seen such intensity on his usually smiling face.

You are ready to kiss him when some playful shouts erupt from the audience you forgot about. “Get it girl!” someone shouts.

“Oh my god,” you say. Distracted, you reach behind you, grasping for nothing in particular when you find something, indeed. Jeongin is rock hard in his swim trunks and your hand brushes the very decent length of him.

You snap your hand back to yourself, jaw dropping.

“Why are you hard?” you whisper harshly.

“What do you mean, why am I hard?” he whispers back, just as argumentatively. “We’re all making out in a hot tub. Of course I’m hard.”

“Hyunjin’s not hard!” you hiss.

You look over your shoulder. Hyunjin is staring up into the air at nothing, looking a little too inconspicuous.

“Hyunjin!” you cry.

“What?” he returns, also whispering sharply. “Are you saying you’re not turned on?”

“I—hmmph—you—no!”

“No?” he asks with a sharp tilt of his head.

“So,” Jeongin says, drawing your narrowed gaze back to him. He just smiles at you. “If we put our hands somewhere here,” his fingers skim your upper thigh and you jump, “we wouldn’t find…?”

You sputter helplessly but it does no good; you have no retaliation whatsoever. You look at Hyunjin but he’s no help, just smirking at you. He wiggles his fingers in a little wave and you feel flushed again.

“I’m leaving now,” you say and finally sink under the water while they laugh.

You step into your bedroom at the end of a very long day. The guests have all gone home. Your parents, for reasons your mother strangely explained, are staying at the neighbour’s house tonight. You are very aware of the privacy it offers, the air rife with possibility.

Your boys are in your bed, wearing boxers and sleeveless shirts and bickering about the size of the quilt. They stop yanking on the blankets when you appear.

You did not bring much sleepwear. You figured you would wear the old shirts left behind in this room. You have outgrown most of them, but that wasn’t a problem with you were sleeping alone. Now you are wearing old gym shorts that sit very high up your thighs, a little shirt pulled taut across your ample chest, and your friends are staring at you, their previous conversation completely forgotten.

You cross your arms and stomp to the bed, feigning indifference. You crawl over a startled Hyunjin to get to the middle, flopping into the little column of space they left for you.

“Good night,” you say.

Hyunjin turns off the bedside light. The three of you are laying on top of the covers, on your backs, stiff as boards. Your arms are still crossed over your chest in a totally unnatural position. You refuse to look around, counting every little popcorn freckle in the ceiling design.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says, his voice so loud in the silence.

You feel Hyunjin look over, hear the turn of his head on the pillow. You cast your eyes to either side but do not turn your head. There is already a skip in your heartbeat and you cannot encourage it.

“What?” you ask.

“You kissed him,” Jeongin says. You feel him roll onto his side, facing you. “You didn’t kiss me.”

You brace yourself then turn your head, looking at him with every intention of telling him that you did it in the heat of the moment. But he is gazing you, his head propped up on his arm, that god-forsaken bicep flexed again.

You shake your head and look at the ceiling.

“Yes, I did,” you say. “What should we do about it?”

“Kiss him,” Hyunjin says. You look at him. He is also propped up, leaning back on his elbow. He looks at you with an expression that offers a challenge, asking, Well? What are you waiting for?

“Fine,” you say, then slowly turn to Jeongin. “Only because that’s fair.”

Jeongin does not hesitate. He is not as firm Hyunjin but he does not need to be. Long, steady fingers slide across your shoulder and cup the back of your head. He draws you into him, kissing your cheek before your lips.

You quickly lose yourself. Your eyes close and it feels like taking flight, or maybe falling. Yes, falling helplessly head over heels. You have been for a long time.

You cannot help but make a few wanting sounds. Jeongin’s body is so different to yours, all hard planes and firm muscle against your softer spots. His hand finds your waist and he pulls you even closer, kissing you long and slow like he is pacing himself, like he plans to kiss you for hours.

That hand wanders from your waist, sliding lower until he is cupping your ass. Your breath catches and the kiss breaks. He is quick to dive back in, kissing you deeper the second time, his tongue touching yours.

You grab his arm, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. When he leans in again, Hyunjin reaches out and shoves his shoulder. Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised.

“That was two kisses,” Hyunjin says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin grabs your shoulder and pulls you onto your back. You land with a soft thump, still intoxicated from kissing Jeongin.

You blink up at Hyunjin, your chest heaving with breath as his eyes roam down your body. His fingers follow the same trail, knuckles at your chin then the curve of your chest. You arch your back instinctively. Everything seems to throb when his fingers brush the front of your shorts. It is a momentary touch, then he is cupping your cheek and turning your face and kissing you.

Just last night, you were in this bed alone, fantasizing this very thing. You ended the phone call but you were wide awake, so you put on some music and grabbed your vibrator and lost yourself to the impossible fantasy now entering reality.

In your fantasies, one or both of them was on top of you. But Hyunjin surprises you with the opposite, taking hold of your hips and tugging. You follow his direction clumsily until you are straddling his lap. He is hard between your legs, holding you there against him while he cups the back of your head and kisses you.

You can’t believe you thought Hyunjin was a romantic little angel. He is an absolute demon, rolling his hips under you with the same unhurried pace Jeongin used. You are so wet and turned-on, so delirious with need, for a second it feels like there is nothing between you, just the hard shape of him against your softness. But no, there are thin layers of fabric between you, stretched so tight it is like they are not there.

Jeongin curves his hand over the shape of your ass. Your shorts are riding up from your position. He could get an eye-ful at the right angle.

“You’re so…” he says, but his breath catches like there is no word to do you justice. It makes you look at him, your eyes locking in intensity.

It ends when Hyunjin rolls, laying you onto your back again. Then he sits back, leaving you there in a breathless pant.

“What do you think about?” he asks.

You make a noise back at him. It is supposed to be a question but it comes out garbled. You shake your head, then manage to ask, “Huh? Think about?”

He sits up and reaches into your bedside drawer. You come to coherency when he takes out your vibrator.

“Hyunjin!” You cannot help but scold him. “I told you to stay out of there!”

“You know I like to investigate,” he argues. “I can’t help it.”

“Oh my god,” you say, slapping your forehead. “I swear to god, it’s like being friends with a crow.”

Jeongin sits up too, laughing so much he has to cover his face. He shakes his head as he comes up for a breath, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Stop laughing,” you say, even while a few giggles escape.

Jeongin just grins at you, then he reaches out and touches traces his thumb across your smile.

“Are you going to answer?” Hyunjin asks.

You look at him and snatch the vibrator back, clutching it possessively to your chest.

“That’s none of your business,” you say.

“It could be,” he says, expression getting darker by the second, a playful smile turning to a dirty smirk. He runs his teeth across his bottom lip then bats his eyelashes. “If you think about us,” he finishes.

“I—no—you—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s normal. I think about you.”

“Hyunjin,” you gasp. You go to whack him with the vibrator then remember what it is. You hold it against your chest again, embarrassed. Hot in the face and everywhere else, you sputter more indignantly than you feel, “There’s nothing to think about with me.”

He looks at you like he can’t believe you are serious, his eyes dropping down your body then back up. He laughs, covering a hand over his mouth.

“Last night I thought plenty,” he says with a wave of his hand. “I wondered if you could come so hard it would make you cry. I bet you’d look pretty.”

You swallow hard. Your hands are getting clammy, clutching the toy. You cannot even fake any indignance, so turned on it is making your head spin.

“That’s rude,” you say in a rasping voice, “I was crying and you were—”

“I waited to touch myself, thank you,” he teases.

“Jeongin wouldn’t do that,” you say, looking back at him. He is staring up at the ceiling, blinking too quickly and too innocently. “Jeongin!” you exclaim.

Hyunjin laughs some more, a gleeful little cackle behind his hand. You huff dramatically, trying and failing to frown at them.

“My friends are perverts,” you say.

Hyunjin is reclining in an insouciant slouch. Jeongin is sitting upright behind you. You look between them as they look at each other, seemingly conversing through nothing but a series of blinks. Jeongin smiles first, winking at you when you meet his eye. He is holding your gaze when Hyunjin moves, smooth and quick. They crowd you, one on either side, each with a hand on your thigh.

You make a noise, a surprised little whimper as you spill onto your back. You clutch the toy for dear life as Jeongin strokes your inner thigh and Hyunjin’s long fingers trace your waistband. You gasp when Hyunjin slides right in, under your shorts but over your underwear. You are so turned on that there is no hiding it, the fabric wet under his searching fingers.

“Takes one to know one,” he says with a smile. “Maybe that’s why we’re friends.”

“I don’t think we’re just friends,” Jeongin says while sliding the toy out of your hands. He turns it on and your clit pulses under Hyunjin’s fingers, trained to react to the noise.

Hyunjin laughs, his breath on your neck. He moves his hand while Jeongin presses the toy between your legs, over your shorts and panties but nonetheless immediately effective. You squirm a little. The onslaught of sensation has your thighs twitching to close.

The boys shuffle quickly. You find yourself sitting between Jeongin’s legs, your back against his chest. Hyunjin kneels in front of you, holding your legs open so you cannot escape the toy’s blissful torture. You can feel an orgasm winding up ridiculously fast. You have not had a proper relationship but you have fooled around, but it was never like this. Even by yourself with a toy, an orgasm would take time. You have a breath to realize you are going to come, hard, legs spread for your boys.

It hits you quickly but deeply, rolling vibrations of pleasure that have you rearing up. You start to cry out and Jeongin covers your mouth even though you are alone, catching the sound in his palm. He holds the toy with his other hand, keeping it in place while Hyunjin holds your legs so you feel every tingling second of aftershocks.

When you whine into his palm, Jeongin lets you go and turns off the toy.

The room feels very quiet when the toy stops. You come to reality, remembering you are in your parents’ house in your old bedroom. Your parents might not be home but it still seems wrong to get down and dirty with your old teddy bear staring at you.

Hyunjin follows your line of sight. He grabs the bear and turns it around.

Okay. It’s fine now.

You twist around and grab Jeongin, kissing him roughly. He holds you as desperately, kissing back with the same fervour. Hyunjin gets his hands on your shorts and tugs them down. They are only off one leg, dangling around your knee, when he dives in and starts kissing your pussy through your underwear.

You are still sensitive from your orgasm, moaning into Jeongin’s mouth while Hyunjin torments you with his. When he moves the material out of the way, your legs start shaking again. Jeongin reaches down to touch you too, his fingers brushing Hyunjin’s lips. Hyunjin sucks the taste of you off his fingertips then dives back in.

You are caught by surprise when you come again. Jeongin catches your cry, covering your mouth again as you shake in his arms. A tear spills loose just from the sheer sensation of such rapid orgasms. Your body feels like a live wire, all lightning and electric energy.

Hyunjin kneels upright, looking at the tear running down your face. You whimper into Jeongin’s hand when Hyunjin licks it off your cheek.

“Knew you’d be pretty like that, baby,” he says.

You pry Jeongin’s hand off your mouth. It goes easily. In the end, they follow your lead. You know your boys. They would do anything for you. They would start. They would stop.

You do not want them to stop.

“Fuck me,” you say, so quietly it does not even penetrate the silence. Even so, Hyunjin slides his hand between your legs and slides two fingers right inside you, so easily because you are so wet. Jeongin squeezes your breasts in his hands, over your shirt then tugging the fabric up and over to get his hands on your bare skin.

“What was that?” Hyunjin asks. He brings those wet fingers to his lips and licks your wetness off them.

“F-fuck me,” you say, still a whisper but clearer. “Please.”

“Well,” Jeongin says, kissing your temple. He smiles at Hyunjin. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You all tumble over, laying on your sides. Jeongin is nestled behind you, Hyunjin in front of you. Jeongin lifts your shirt over your head while Hyunjin finally removes everything below your waist. You slip your hand between your thighs while they whip off their shirts and boxers.

Then it feels like their hands are everywhere. Yours too, reaching forward for Hyunjin, reaching back for Jeongin. You hold his hip while he rocks against you, his cock gliding along your backside.

“I’ll go first,” Hyunjin says, manhandling you onto your back then getting up between your legs.

“You kissed her first,” Jeongin argues, shoving him. Hyunjin shoves him back.

“You’re bigger,” Hyunjin says, nodding to his dick. “I’ll get her ready.”

You did not actually get a good look at Hyunjin’s dick before he put it inside you. If Jeongin is bigger, you are almost worried, because Hyunjin is bigger than anything you have had down there. You make a keening, high-pitched noise, mouth open as he presses inside you.

Jeongin lays beside you, reaching down to rub that still-tingling bundle of nerves. It helps, your eyes closing and head falling back. Jeongin kisses the exposed line of your throat while Hyunjin starts moving inside you.

“Ohh—” you say, your hands moving all over his chest. You clutch one shoulder and reach for Jeongin with your other hand. He guides it to his dick, helping you find a rhythm, stroking his length while Hyunjin fucks you.

It goes on for a time, then Jeongin curses, squeezing your hand around him. He nods to Hyunjin.

“Move,” he says. “My turn.”

Hyunjin, panting, pushes some hair off his sweaty forehead. He moves backwards down the bed, stepping right off. You yelp with surprise when he grabs your legs and yanks you down the bed. He grabs your hips and flips you over, then gestures to Jeongin.

“Your turn,” he confirms. They switch places, Jeongin kneeling behind you while Hyunjin kneels in front of you. You get up on your elbows, lifting your hips while Jeongin thrusts in. He wastes no time, evidently already on the brink from your ministrations. It means your gentle lover is suddenly pounding into you, your fingers forming fists in the bedsheets, yanking the covers everywhere as you pant and moan.

“Sooo pretty,” Hyunjin says, cupping your face in both hands. You know what he wants without asking, opening your mouth eagerly. You doubt it is the best head ever, especially considering half your attention is on Jeongin, your body moving where he wills it. But you manage, savouring the moment and already imagining every variation of position for the future.

You look up at Hyunjin, kissing the tip of his dick then saying in a rough voice, “I want both of you one day.”

“Fuck,” Jeongin says and immediately comes, grinding deep inside you. Hyunjin grabs you by the neck and puts you back on his dick, murmuring a string of expletives just as colourful until he comes.

You think it is over when Jeongin pulls out. Cum is dribbling out of your mouth when Hyunjin sits back. He wipes his thumb over your lips, pushing them closed.

“You can swallow,” he says. His touch is a suggestion, not forceful, so you could ignore it. But you gaze up at him and swallow.

And while you are doing that, Jeongin grabs the toy and puts it back between your legs. You almost scream, bucking when it comes to life on your dripping pussy. Hyunjin cups your face in his hands again, stroking your cheeks while you ride the pulsing vibrations. Another couple tears spill and he wipes them away with his thumbs, cooing sweet nothings at you the entire time.

They wring three more orgasms out of you before you basically collapse, exerted and sweating and panting.

“God,” you rasp, laying on your side, still breathing hard. “I’m gonna need to get in shape for this. Two boyfriends is no joke.”

The three of you laugh, then you get to enjoy the spoiled princess treatment that is having one boy to cuddle while the other fetches water and a towel. When you finally get to sleep, it is nestled safely between your boys, murmuring sweet words at each other in sleepy tones until you fall asleep.

Your parents return at lunch the next day. While Jeongin helps your father grill and Hyunjin sets the table, you help your mother prepare a side dish. She is practically beaming at you.

“Do I want to know why you slept at the neighbour’s last night?” you ask.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” your mother says. She kisses your forehead. “I heard you on the phone the other night. I know you lied about having a boyfriend.”

“What?!” You look at her with alarm and surprise. “But – but you didn’t say anything! You acted like Jeongin was my boyfriend the second he arrived!”

“Of course!” your mother says. “Look my dear, anyone can find a boyfriend. Walk onto the street and throw a rock, there’s one with his head out the car window like a dog. Easy. Not everyone can find a man who shows up to a party and pretends to be her lover, expecting nothing in return, and doing it just because he loves her. And you found two.”

Your mother wraps you in her arms. You are still surprised but you hug her back.

“I’m sorry I made you feel so pressured,” she says. “I just worried about you all alone in the city, but now I see you’re not alone. But, you know, I am a mother, and I saw how those boys looked at you, so I figured… well…”

“Mom!” you cry, a little mortified she intentionally set you up.

“Did it work?” she asks with an eyebrow wiggle.

You are laughing helplessly, shaking your head, which only makes her laugh.

“I knew it,” she says. “Sometimes fate just needs a hand. Maybe two.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” you say, walking away.

“You are glowing this morning. Maybe I should get another man too.”

“Mom, please!”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #hyunjin x reader x jeongin #hyunjin x you #jeongin x you #hyunjin x you x jeongin #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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myuminji · 1 year

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Just a comic about two people catching up again [Angel AU]

[ID: A Trigun comic of Wolfwood after his death in Trigun Maximum.

Abbreviated ID: Wolfwood is now an angel with wings and a halo tied to his grave. He cannot be seen or heard by others, but Livio visited his grave and mostly filled him in on the finale, and Wolfwood waits for Vash to show up. When he does, Wolfwood is stunned and worried by his black hair, though he deems Vash fine when he pulls out drinks for them both.

Vash pours the drinks and talks. He confesses that he killed someone and calls himself a coward and the worst, apologizing for being selfish and not saving Wolfwood. Wolfwood angrily shouts that everything was his decision, and Vash is an idiot for blaming himself.

He says that Vash has done so much for Wolfwood and for others, and he calls Vash brave. Vash falls asleep with tears in his eyes, but he seems lighter when he wakes up. Vash leaves, promising to return, and Wolfwood says that he'll "watch him from afar... again." The title is "#1 'What happened to your hair?'". Full ID below readmore in 21 paragraphs.

The comic starts with a dark, noise-filter panel of the Punisher being used as Wolfwood's gravestone, with the quote "Nicholas D. Wolfwood has died" written over it.

Below that is Wolfwood, who has wings and a halo. He sits pensively and narrates, "At least, that's what everyone has come to believe, including me. Yet here I am, still roaming on this damn barren planet... But I wouldn't say I'm quite alive anymore. Since I couldn't feel hunger or thirst like I used to." He thinks, "'Ghost,' like those horror stories was it?"

He narrates over sketchy panels of himself frowning while floating next to his grave and yelling at Livio. "There, are other things I found that fits the term, like how I can't bring myself to far too far from my grave, or how others can't see me at all." We see Livio tearing up and saying "Nico-nii..." while Wolfwood furiously waves his arms and shouts, "I am!! Here!!!!"

Livio is shown speaking with a teary smile while Wolfwood leans against Punisher and listens. Wolfwood says, "Livio is the first and only person I've met so far. And luckily, he was quite a storyteller. I was able to get a grasp of the situation, and its aftermath. And what happened to him in the end."

Livio smiles and says, "It's been three months ever since... But even if we couldn't get ahold of him now, I'm sure he'll come back to you someday." Wolfwood narrates, "—And knowing that idiot, he probably would."

A close-up of Vash's coat in the wind as Wolfwood narrates, "So it didn't come as a surprise to me when he visited my grave. I'd even thought up of things to say when we meet again. Everything was thrown out of the window when he appears, of course. I could vividly remember the one question that burns in my head..."

Wolfwood looks shocked as Vash, hair fully black, waves cheerfully, "Yo! It's been a while, hasn't it? Wolfwood." Below the two floats the question: "#1 'What happened to your hair?'"

Wolfwood sweats, "Spikey, your hair. Doesn't it mean... Are you okay???" Vash smiles sheepishly, "Ah, I hope you're not mad I didn't come sooner, don't haunt me please..." Wolfwood shouts, "That's not the problem right now!!" Vash pulls something out and exclaims, "But look what I got for you!! Alcohol!!!" Wolfwood shouts, "What sort of person do you see me as!?"

Vash excitedly pulls out a bottle and two shot glasses. "It's not the only reason why I'm late, but it did took me a month to hunt this down... I recall you said you wanted to try them, right?" Wolfwood buries his face in his hands and says, "Where the hell are your priorities... You know what, yeah. I'm not gonna ask anymore since you look fine."

Vash smiles a bit tiredly and says, "Hmm,, I'm glad this place hasn't turn to ruins yet~ I've still got lots I need to tell you that's happened out there! And I thought it's better to talk about it with drinks on the side…" He clinks two glasses together. "So, cheers! ..."

He and Wolfwood are both awkwardly silent, and Vash sweats and frowns nervously. Then he pours a glass onto the ground, and Wolfwood furiously shouts, "D'ya really expect me to drink off the ground!? Stupid needle noggin!!!!!"

Vash laughs sheepishly, and he speaks via empty speech bubbles while Wolfwood listens, drinking with a small smile. Vash says, "... And when that happened I..." He drops his gaze and says between long pauses, "I..... When that happened......" Wolfwood watches him seriously as he says, "... Say. Wolfwood, is this how you've felt all the time?"

Vash looks down sadly. "You I see, I... killed someone in the end." He laughs, eyebrows drawn in. "I guess you're right. I am bound to choose someday." He takes another sip, then downs it and falls backwards. "Isn't it funny? That I've called you a coward once for killing... But guess who's the coward now~? It's always been me, isn't it?"

Vash lies on his back and laughs. "... Haha. I wonder if you're laughing too. I really am the worst, aren't I?" Wolfwood looks down as Vash continues, "You've done so much for me, but all I've caused you are troubles. I was selfish, always chasing after my own goals... That you couldn't ask for my help. That I couldn't save you. Just what kind of friend am I?"

Vash scrubs his eyes with an arm and says shakily, "Sorry... Wolfwood... I'm so sorry..." A close-up panel of his mouth shows Wolfwood saying, "... Just so you know--" Expression unimpressed, he exclaims, "There's no way in hell I'm accepting that lousy apology! You drunkard!"

He stands up and seems to kick Vash, who's still on the ground and mostly out of sight. Wolfwood demands, "Why are you even sorry for something like that, huh?? I chose my own path. It was all my decision! How many times do I say it to get it stick in that thick head of yours? Stop. Blaming. Yourself. For the things. You've not done. Idiot! Stupid spikey hair!!"

Vash's face is cut off, but a tear in his eye can be seen as he weakly says, "... oof.. wood..." Wolfwood looks tired and sighs, "... Ha... Don't feel bad about me. Until when will you realise just how much you've done for us? You've done more than enough for me, Needle Noggin."

The perspective zooms out to focus on the sky and two moons, including the fifth moon. Wolfwood's wings and the Punisher can just be seen at the bottom. Wolfwood says, "And you're brave, to go against what you've been taught your whole life. You're not a coward. You faced them until the end. So don't sell yourself short like that next time, okay?" We see Vash's face, smiling with tears in his closed eyes. Wolfwood concludes: "I'll get mad."

Wolfwood narrates, "—He passed out right after for the whole night on the cold ground. I realised how little I could help in the situation." He tries to drape his coat over Vash, sweating, and wonders, "Wouldn't it just pass through ...?"

Time passes, and Vash gets up with a sneeze and rubs his eyes. Wolfwood watches him with his eyebrows raised, and Vash laughs quietly and a bit nervously. Wolfwood narrates, "As if he'd heard my voice, a burden seems to be lifted off his shoulder when he woke up. That, or maybe he'd forgotten what happened last night. He was quick to take his leave right after.

"And so, Vash the Stampede went on a journey with a promise." Vash waves goodbye, turning to leave with his bag in hand. "I'll be sure to bring back more stuff next time!! See you later!" Wolfwood concludes, "While I watch him from afar... again." Wolfwood sits below the Punisher and waves back, saying with bemusement, "Has he never heard the phrase 'do not disturb the death?' He really throws me off..." The title is named, and it says "/ END." End ID]

[link to Image ID reblog post!]

#''if you can't go to see the world I'll bring the world to you instead'' post trimax vash who often comes back to ww bringing things he foun #and it piles up. alot.#i have up to 8 chp of these tho idt i can draw them all haha #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #trimax spoilers #trigun maximum spoilers #vashwood #centric #/p

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colormepurplex2 · 4 months

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Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program.

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #coffeeshop au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #professor yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #micdropnet #bangtanwhq

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peachsayshi · 4 months

Note

(going crazy about Choso watching you in the shower don't mind me.....)

It was the smell of your soap that Choso noticed first. Wafting into the hotel room with that undeniable moisture- the bathroom door must be open.

Open? You'd never made that mistake before. He glanced at the mirror across the bathroom door and saw the cracked door and light filtering through. It was open. The bathroom door was in fact open, and the only thing separating him from your naked form was a thin shower curtain.

Before he knew it, he was standing by that door, peering in. Your silhouette moved and his eyes widened, watching you cleanse yourself of the mess of battle. Could you get your back on your own? His mouth was agape as he imagined himself joining you, washing you, dragging his soapy hands all over your incredible body.

He was rock hard. Overwhelmed by the sweet scent of your shampoo. As you picked up your conditioner, he caught a glimpse of your skin through the gap in the curtain and nearly groaned. He needed you. God, how intensely he needed you...

Like the soothing sounds of a siren, you hummed a tune as you lathered your hair with conditioner. He was enraptured. Nothing could tear him away from this. From you. He softly palmed the tent in his pants, wondering if you left that door open on purpose. Wondering if you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you...

Wondering if you'd welcome him if he decided to join you.

@nyxronomicon 🖤

{oh, nyx. this is altering my brain. you need to take full accountability for what you are doing to me right now, but I also refuse to walk away without leaving a few more crumbs myself. your ask has me clenching my thighs and biting my lip. I am simply losing it over this man!!! now let's think of this scenario, where the temptation is far too much...}

➳ minors / ageless / blank blogs dni ➳ tags: cw breeding; lchoso in heat; arousal

there's a soft knock on the door that sends a tremor of excitement and apprehension up along your spine. you curl your frame under the shower head, allowing the warmth to veil over your soft, vulnerable body.

"yes?" you call out, your firm tone dwindling through the barrier of raining water droplets.

"did you mean to leave the door open?" choso bluntly asks, making your lungs collapse from the tension in his deep voice.

what are you supposed to say? you think in a moment of panic, that you did mean to leave it open because you wanted to test him?

a lump forms in your throat. you were coaxing someone who barely had the capacity to understand the deep intensity of his human emotions just to play a game of a rabbit toying with a wolf.

instead, you simply swallow your guilt and innocently reply, "yeah, I wanted to let out some of the steam..."

the silence lingers for only a few seconds but the heaviness resides in the short distance of space separating you both.

you hear him clear his throat from behind the door.

"would it be alright if I used the sink to wash up then?"

your heart rumbles, shuddering with enticing uncertainty.

"yes, you can come in."

from behind the curtain you hear his footsteps, a slow approach to the bathroom sink. you're suddenly hyper aware of your naked state, of every drop trickling down your delicate curves, of your nipples pebbling hard from the slight draft that followed choso, and of the throbbing pulse between your legs.

you exhale quietly as he turns on the faucet, wondering what to do next. from between the curtain you study him, his hair down and haloing around his handsome face. his cheeks are slightly red, and he cups the water in his hand as he splashes it across his face.

your hand mindlessly turns off the faucet to your shower.

you avert your gaze just as choso turns to meet yours through the small sliver of space.

"do you mind passing me a towel?"

there's another pause before the sound of choso rummaging through the drawers interrupts the quiet. he approaches you, the shadow of his strong, broad frame prominent from behind the curtain. you don't know why the thrill of it makes you ache, or why you insist on tempting him further when you know that the it truly isn't a fair game.

you curl your fingers around the curtain and peek your head through, your thighs clenching at the expression on choso's face.

there's an unrecognizable hunger in that gaze, a hardness resting along his sharp jaw that's contrasted by the blush in his cheeks. the front of his brows are pinched slightly together, and you can see the veins in his hands pop as he grips the terry cloth fabric between his fingers.

you reach for the towel, noticing his eyes falling to your glistening bare skin, and focusing on the slope of where your shoulder and neck meet.

"thank you, cho." you gratefully reply, as you pluck the towel from between his hands.

when you dip back behind the curtain you swear you hear him sigh with exasperation. you wrap the towel carefully around your body, the length barely covering you up in any decent manner.

choso is still in the bathroom when you step out of the shower, his head now under the sink faucet as he allows the water to run through his raven hair. he slicks back the strands with his fingers, and exhales once again.

"you're free to use the shower now," you calmly state.

he leans back, his hands gripping the counter behind him, but his eyes are fixated on you.

"great," he murmurs through gritted teeth, focusing to keep his attention on your face and nowhere else. "I'll jump right in"

you nod your head, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth as you try to scurry away but you suddenly freeze when choso sidesteps in front of you and blocks your path.

you're so much closer now. close enough to take in the hard muscles of his torso. close enough to burn with shame from toying with him in this way.

you seize up in panic when draws his hand to your neck, sealing the gap of space as he stands in front of you chest to chest. the tender caress ignites everything within you, and you sink your teeth deeper into your bottom lip as a shivering vibration runs up along your neck. choso has his hand to your throat, his thumb stroking up the column to the space right underneath your ear.

your eyes fall to his pecs, the rise and fall pulling you away from the stillness of the moment.

choso drops his hand to your line of sight, showing off his thumb covered in bubbling suds.

"you missed a spot"

he wipes it off against his pants, as your hand absentmindedly reaches for the place where he touched you. the pads of your fingers lightly dragging over the exposed skin.

you glance up at choso from underneath your eyelashes, "oh, I did..." is all you can say.

your arousal sticks to your inner thighs, making you adjust your stance, but that is when choso directly drops his gaze to your crotch without any hesitation, his expression a battle of desire and concentration.

his breathing slows, and your eyes widen as the heat rushes straight to your cheeks.

why does it feel like he can see right through the material?

like he knows that you’re wet right now.

“I should leave you to it then,” you foggily announce, taking a tiny step back.

“hmm,” choso purrs, his dark eyes gaping at your concealed cunt.

you casually dart around him, stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

every nerve in your body quivering with anticipation.

#choso x reader #choso x female reader #choso x y/n #choso smut #kamo choso x reader

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captainfantasticalright · 25 days

Text

Good Omens: behind the camera!

With DoP Gavin Finney.

I gathered together all of the interviews I could find where Gavin Finney discusses his work for Good Omens: including how he framed certain shots, the filters used for some scenes, how Aziraphale has a constant halo and celestial shots. (Even a camera that only exists for filming the Gavotte).

There are even more things dealing with CGI and VFX in the articles. So do give them a read if you can!

I also added some things he mentioned for The Ineffable Con 4.

Here are all of my sources:

British Cinematographer Season 1

Good Omens DP Gavin Finney on Earthly and Otherwordly In-Camera Delights

British Cinematographer Season 2

How Cinematographer Gavin Finney Brought Heaven and Hell to Life in ‘Good Omens’

DP Chat: Good Omens cinematographer Gavin Finney

Definition Magazine: Raining Men, Omen

On Shooting Good Omens

Maggie Service: ‘The Good Omens Universe Is A Lovely Place To Inhabit’ – Interview

Tweets because I do now know how to call them anymore:

About the kiss.

Blurring the edges.

Intentional Lighting.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #good omens fun facts #good omens 2 #easter eggs #gavin finney #cinematography #film stills #good omens behind the scenes

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roses-for-rosalyn · 11 months

Text

Are You Sure Miss?

Abby x reader

minirs dni (I will hunt u down)

This is strongly inspired by this audio by Jupiter X. Please please go visit her reddit and twitter she's literally so amazing. I really enjoyed writing this, it's probably my favorite thing I've ever written.

summary: the farmers daughter becomes infatuated with the farm hand

word count: 5.3k

content warnings: southern fem! reader, southern abby, mentions of masterbation, kissing, neck kissing, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), use of strap on, mirror sex, teasing, mild orgasm denial, Abby moaning hehe, no use of y/n, Abby being big and strong

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The farmer's daughter in love with the farm hand. What a fucking cliché. Any sensible woman would have the dignity to at least pretend they weren’t infatuated, to allow themselves a denial of their feelings. You’re honestly not sure how much you valued your dignity at this point.

Your father had hired her about two months ago. You usually walked the grounds every day to pass the time, you enjoyed the fresh air and it gave you an excuse to get out of the house. your father thought you too fragile to do anything besides shopping, walking or occasionally traveling. As a result your life was painfully mundane…until she showed up. The first day she was on the job you were out on one of your usual, painfully boring walks when you noticed someone new was working with the other farm hands. She stood out as she was working a job that was mostly reserved for men. She was stacking hay bales, tossing them with ease. you observed the way her strong arms strained against the fabric of her shirt and couldn't help but imagine how easily she could sweep you off your feet. You were just close enough where you could discern the sweat on her brow, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead. Her chest heaved with effort as she threw the bales of hay as if they were made of feathers. You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you stopped in your tracks to watch her. You continued walking and swore to yourself you would keep a distance. No reason to make a fuss and cause your father to lose a perfectly good farmhand. Maybe even the best farmhand he’d ever had, she was stronger than any man he'd ever hired.

Eventually you learned her name: Abby. Even learning something that small made everything worse.

Now you had a name to whimper as you ground into your pillow at night, imagining it was one of her strong thighs. Every day since you’d dreamt of her using her strength to fuck you senseless, you imagined how she’d wrap her muscular arms around your thighs to hold you in place while she assaulted your clit with her tongue. You were getting desperate, every time you went on one of your walks your panties grew soaked just watching her work.

One day you worked up the courage to ask her a favor.

“Abby,” you called out to her “do ya mind helping me with something?” You asked, purposefully making your southern accent extra thick and sweet. The words came out smooth as honey causing Abby to turn her head in surprise. She had never heard you speak before and she decided right then and there she could listen to you talk for hours. You usually used that voice to get men to help you with things, but you had a feeling she could help you more than any man could.

She nodded and jogged over “What do ya need miss?” God her voice was perfect, a faint southern lilt dripping off each word as she spoke.

This was the first time you had gotten close to her, you realized how far she towered over you. She was intimidating in every sense of the word. You could make out the freckles that dotted across her nose and spilled onto her cheeks. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing against her fair skin. The sun filtered through her blonde hair creating a soft glowing halo around her head.

“You alright miss?” You hadn’t even realized you were staring, she was looking at you with a mild concern, her head slightly tilted.

“Yes ’m fine,” You took a breath and looked down to escape her intense gaze. “The heat must be gettin’ to me, that’s all.” You let out a soft laugh and summoned the strength to look back up at her. “Can you just help me get these groceries inside? Normally I’d do it myself, but it’s just so darn hot today n’ some of these bags are pretty heavy.” You definitely could have carried them in yourself, but where’s the fun in that? You just wanted an excuse to get close to her, that's all.

“Whatever ya need miss.” She grinned and walked past you to grab the groceries out of the truck bed. You couldn’t help but ogle for a moment at her strength. Her muscles flexed as she added bag after bag to her arms. She grabbed every single one of the bags in one trip, you only had to retrieve your purse from the passenger’s side of the truck. You ran ahead to open the door for her, since she had her hands full.

“Thanks.” She turned her head, smiled and nodded at you in appreciation. You smiled back, looking up at Abby with wide doe eyes that practically made her melt. You followed her inside and watched her gently place the groceries on the table as you put your purse down next to them.

Abby turned to you and asked “Need anything else from me miss?” She was secretly hoping you had a laundry list of chores for her just so she could spend some more time with you. You had her wrapped around your finger in mere moments with your soft frilly dresses and your sickly sweet voice.

“Not at the moment, but you best bet I’ll be asking you for help more often after this.” You smiled sheepishly at her, attempting to play into your role as the helpless farmer’s daughter. You had a feeling it was working with the way she was looking down at you like you were edible. If Abby had her way at that moment she would have whisked you away upstairs and devoured you until your sweet moans deafened her.

“I’m here for whatever you need, miss.” She smirked and nodded before turning away and going back to work.

You thought about that small interaction the rest of the day, it didn’t help that you now knew what she sounded like. She took over your every waking thought. You thought you would be able to control yourself better the less you knew about her because now every new detail you learned made you grow more and more desperate for her.

Abby wasn’t much better. She would daydream about you while she was working which almost caused multiple accidents. She was dropping things, forgetting her strength and getting distracted when she needed to focus. She couldn’t get you out of her mind, she went home that night and made herself come on her own fingers, imagining your sweet little moans escaping your lips as she fucked you. She could never give into her desires though, you were too perfect, too fragile. She wasn’t good enough for you. No one was.

She was infatuated with you from her first day on the farm. You slowly strolled by in a pale blue dress covered in pretty little ruffles and all Abby wanted to do was rip it off. She watched from afar as your skin glowed in the sunlight making you look ethereal. She couldn't help but ask the other farmhands your name, subtly trying to get them to divulge anything they knew about you. They didn't know much, you stayed far away from the farmhands for the most part. You would only watch them from afar on your walks... until Abby. She vowed to herself a while ago she would keep a distance in order to keep her job. It was easier when she could pretend you were some mythical being, too beautiful to be real. The day you asked for help was the day her restraint started to weaken as she realized you were as real as you were lovely.

You would watch her as you usually did on your walks except now she would look back at you, flashing a sweet smile. You began passing the days desperately trying to come up with another reason to ask her for help to no avail.

About a week passed since you last asked Abby for help when a rather large delivery came in from the tailor. You had quite a few dresses made and fitted and there were stacks of boxes that needed to be brought up to your bedroom. You silently cheered when you realized your father’s truck was missing from the driveway. When he left he would usually be gone all day, which would work out in your favor. You didn't have a particular plan in mind, but you knew it would be easier without the presence of your father looming over you. You walk out from the porch towards the field where Abby was working. She was feeding the chickens, dumping feed all around. She was covered in a sheen of sweat, her shirt softly clung to her abdominal muscles, sticky from sweat.

“Abby!” You call out, “I need ya for a minute.” She quickly finishes feeding the birds and eagerly heads over to you. At this point you took priority over her job, although she would never admit that.

Once she reaches you she nods and says “Lead the way, ma’am.” You smile and turn around to lead her back to the porch towards the stacks of boxes.

“Just need help getting these up to my bedroom. They’re a bit heavy and I can’t carry them up the stairs myself.” You gesture to the pile of boxes on the porch

“You want me to come inside? In-into your bedroom? You sure? I’m all sweaty and dirty from workin' and I wouldn’t want to get your room dirty or nothing.” She sounds a little panicky and you can’t quite pin down why.

“I don’t mind.” You say quietly.

“Al-alright,” She takes a breath “if you insist.” Abby looks down at the stacks of boxes, assessing how many trips up the stairs this was going to take. She grabs a stack of boxes and you open the screen door for her to let her inside. You walk ahead of her leading her up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You hadn’t really had anyone in your bedroom before. It was a simple room with a queen bed against the wall, a soft white quilt adorning it. There was an old mirror in the corner of the room by the bed, the other side of the bed had a nightstand with a few candles and a stack of books. You had never felt insecure about your room until this very moment.

“You’ve got a very nice room, miss.” Abby looks around trying to absorb any details she can. She has to suppress the thoughts that invade her mind when she sees the mirror by the bed.

“Thank you.” You grin, genuinely appreciating the compliment.

There’s a slightly awkward pause before Abby blurts out “You read a lot?” She gestures to the stack of books by your bed.

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to do much so reading is one of my favorite ways to pass the time. Do you like readin’?”

“I mean most of the time I’m workin’ or sleepin’, but when I was younger my mother used to read to me. I guess I like listenin’ to other people read more than actually reading myself. Haven’t been read to in years though, I guess that’s somethin’ just for little kids.” She’s clearly a nervous talker and you can’t help but adore her for it.

“Doesn’t have to be, you just gotta find someone who’s willing to read to ya.” You smile at her before realizing the implication your sentence had. Hopefully she didn’t read too far into it.

“Yeah maybe one day.” She smiles at you and then sets the boxes down as you sit on the edge of the bed. You sigh in relief, thankful you didn’t scare her with your nervous rambling. She turns to head back downstairs to grab the rest of the boxes. As soon as she leaves the room you rush over to the mirror. You adjust your dress and check your hair, suddenly very aware of your appearance. You envied Abby in the sense that she looked beautiful even covered with dirt and sweat. You felt like you had to put in a mighty amount of effort just to appeal to other people. Once you hear Abby’s footsteps echoing up the stairs you rush back to the edge of the bed. She walks in and gently puts the last stack of boxes down.

“Need anything else miss?” You look around trying to think of something, anything to keep her here. You’re about to give up and dismiss her when a devilish idea pops into your head.

You smile sweetly at her as you say, “Actually, I need some help trying these on." You nod towards the boxes, "I can’t quite reach the zippers, plus I could use your opinion on some of ‘em.” It was quite the risky ask, but you were growing desperate. A slight ache had grown between your legs as you watched her carry the boxes up the stairs. Her tank top wasn't helping anything either, it perfectly displayed her incredible biceps and clung to her sweaty body, exposing the outline of her muscles.

Abby is visibly taken aback “I’m not sure I’m the best person you could ask for this miss. I’m not exactly a very fashionable person, and I-I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed in your room in the first place. I don’t want to make your father angry or nothing.” She laughs a little as she rubs the back of her neck. If she was being honest with herself Abby wasn’t sure if she’d be able to handle watching you take off your dress without giving into her desire, and she was beginning to panic. She couldn’t say no to you either.

“Don’t be silly,” You giggle a little at how flustered she is. “He isn’t even home, and all you have to do is tell me what looks good and what doesn’t. It’s easy.” You look over Abby’s shoulder and realize the door is wide open. “Just go close the door for me so no one walks in on us.” You unzip your dress and slowly remove the straps from your shoulders right as Abby turns around to close the door. Your dress was on the floor by the time she turned back to face you.

Abby turns away immediately when she realizes your dress is gone. You can’t help but giggle when you realize how much you startled her.

“Why are you turnin’ away?” you ask, half teasing her.

“Well..uh..uhm.” She takes a breath trying to compose herself. “You-you’re indecent miss, I can’t exactly look at you right now.” Abby meant it more in the sense she can’t look at you without giving into the desire to throw you onto the bed and rip off your pretty undergarments. She also meant it in a sort of proper way because if anyone deserved that kind of respect it was you.

“You can look.” you reassure her.

“Are you sure miss? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or disrespect you in any way.” She sounded so cute when she was nervous.

“Well if you can’t look at me, how exactly do you intend to help me with these dresses?” You can’t help but tease her, she made it too fun. You liked making her stutter.

“Um… I suppose you're right, miss.” She turns to face you, slowly. She looks you up and down with wide eyes, she’s stiff as a board. A brief silence goes by while you allow her to collect herself.

“Well… pick something out of those boxes for me, any one you want.” Abby turns to the box closest to her feet, kneels down and opens it up. She pulls out a blue dress, similar to the one you would wear on your walks from time to time.

“I-I like this one, blue looks pretty on you.” She looks at the dress pretending to study it, but it was just an excuse not to have to look at you in your bra. “I mean everything looks pretty on you, it’s just the first time I saw you, you were wearing blue so I started to like it when you would wear it because it would remind me-”

“You think I’m pretty?” You cut her off since you had guessed she would have kept talking if you didn’t.

She stutters out a response, “Well.. yes I-”

“You know, you’re awfully pretty yourself.” You walk towards her looking up at her through your lashes and grab the dress from her.

She laughs “Haven’t had many people call me pretty before, don’t think I really fit into the word, but thank you.” As she’s talking you slip on the dress and turn around, inviting her to zip it up for you.

You laugh and reply, “You’re welcome.” Once you're zipped up you walk over to the mirror to see how it looks. “What do you think?” You had to admit the dress fit you immaculately. It hugged you in just the right places and the color was beautiful.

“You-you look beautiful, it’s a-a beautiful dress miss.” She sounds a little breathless which caught you by surprise.

“You really like it?” you asked, turning to her.

“Yes, yes it looks very, very…” she takes a little breath, to compose herself “good on you miss.”

“I like it too.” You walk back over to her and turn around. “Gonna try another one then, since we’re keepin’ this one.” Abby starts unzipping you painfully slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible. You feel her knuckle glide down your back through the fabric of your dress and you’re not sure how much more you can take. You let the dress fall to your feet, turn back around and step even closer to her.

Abby isn’t sure what to do, so she just takes a step back and says, “I-I’ll get you another dress to try on.”

“You don’t think I look good just like this?” Gesturing to your bra and lacy panties. You were crossing a line, but you were hoping that you were right in the assumption that her nervousness was due to her attraction to you and not due to her just being plain scared of you.

“Y-yes you look beautiful, bu-” She huffs a little “I-I thought you wanted to keep tryin’ on dresses. Don’t you have to get dressed for something like a walk or-”

“Nope, I got nothin’ to do today.”

“You don’t want to at least get into a nightgown or something because I-” You take a step even closer to her, you’re so close you could count every freckle that dotted her face. She cuts herself off, breathing out a hushed, “Hi.” not sure what else to say. Having you so close to her caused her to not be able to think straight.

You could see the slight panic in her eyes, but there was something else: a desire. You couldn’t take it anymore, you lifted up onto your tip-toes and kissed her softly. She lets out a little squeak of surprise before melting into you. She gently held your jaw as you continued kissing her and you let out a hum of satisfaction. She pulls away quickly and you involuntarily let you a quiet whine.

“Wait-wait we shouldn’t do this.” her voice is barely a whisper. “I-I can’t lose my job and this could make your father mad. It’s not that I don’t want to.. I really really want to, but we both know I’m not good enough for you. You’re-” You cut her off kissing her again and she lets out a soft little moan in response. You start making your way to her jaw, lightly kissing a trail down her neck. “God,” she says trying to catch her breath, “you’re really not making this easy.”

You start gently sucking and nipping her neck and she lets the tiniest moan slip from her lips. This only encourages you as you move back up to her lips, this time using your tongue to open up her mouth and she groans. You use her chest for support as you lean into her, trying to get as close to her as possible. She pulls away slightly “I can’t do this, I-” She sighs “I won’t be able to control myself, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” You just smile a little and kiss her again, harder this time, hoping it will finally convince her to give in. She whimpers into your mouth and kisses you back, she uses her tongue to massage yours and you moan at the sensation.

“Bed,” she says between kisses, “please.” You move away from her and make your way over to the bed sitting down on the edge. “Lay down in the middle.” Her voice took on a new, more demanding tone causing the ache between your legs to grow painful. You did as she said and she climbed on top of you, putting her arms on either side of you, careful not to crush you. You looked up at her and realized she was looking at you like a meal. Your lips parted in surprise, and Abby took this as an invitation to kiss you again, roughly massaging her tongue against yours. She moved from your mouth to your neck. She started gently kissing her way down, you let out a little whine when she started sucking at the soft skin letting her teeth gently graze it.

“God, you're so soft,” she breathes into your neck, “It’s driving me crazy.” She moves down to your clavicle gently kissing along it towards your shoulder. “Can I go lower, miss?” She asks with a yearning that causes your breathing to grow heavier. You eagerly nod giving her permission. “I need to hear you say ‘yes’, miss.”

“Yes, yes.” You reply, desperate. She moves to kneel in between your legs and starts kissing between your breasts and down your stomach. She makes a trail with her lips across your hips and hovers her mouth over your panties.

“Can I?” You can feel her breath on your sensitive clit through the fabric of your underwear and the small sensation is driving you wild.

“Please.” You manage to whimper out. Abby pulls your panties to the side and places a little kiss right on your clit before she starts licking at your sensitive bud causing you to let out a surprised squeak. You lace your fingers into her blonde hair, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of her rough tongue on your cunt. She teases your clit with her tongue, moving around it in circles. She lets out little satisfied moans whenever your hips buck up into her mouth. Suddenly she starts sucking hard on your sensitive bud and you moan loudly, “Feels so good Abs, don’t stop.” She looks up at you watching your face contort with pleasure and she starts grinding onto the mattress desperate for any relief. She could come just from watching you like this.

“You’re so perfect, miss.” She groans against your cunt, the vibrations causing the pressure in your belly to build.

“Wait.” You breathe out.

“What? What’s wrong, do you want me to stop? We can stop.” Abby starts to pull away, but you grab her hands and hold her in place.

“No, nothing’s wrong I just- I wanted to try something.” you reassure her.

“Oh…o-okay..” Abby rises up from between your legs and looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“Would you be okay with that?” you ask.

“Of course, miss, I'll do whatever you want me to do.” You nod, get up and crawl over to open the drawer in your nightstand. You grab what looks like a wad of towels and unwrap it revealing a double sided strap and harness. You turn to Abby with it in hand and her eyes grow wide.

“You want me to-” She takes a breath, still staring at it, “to wear that?” You nod eagerly and hand it to her. “I’m not sure, miss, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself with that and I wouldn’t want to hurt you or accidentally be too rough with you and I-” she pauses “I really, really want to, I just don’t want to hurt you.” She looks up at you apologetically.

“You can be as rough as you need to be, I’m not worried about you breakin’ me, not as fragile as I look.” You shoot a small smile at her, it was cute how worried she is, it’s sweet how she doesn’t want to hurt you, but you really wouldn’t mind that much.

Abby’s eyebrows raise in surprise but she nods and says “Al-alright, I suppose I should get these off then.” gesturing to her pants. She stands up and begins unbuckling her belt eagerly. She lets her pants and underwear fall to the floor and within seconds the shirt’s gone too, leaving her in a sport’s bra. You couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping at the sight of her strong figure. You never really got to see her thighs because she was always wearing them stupid baggy pants, but they were so muscular and strong. The thought of grinding against them invades your mind causing you to clench around nothing.

“See something ya like?” Abby smirks at you, clearly aware of her impressive physique. Now it was your turn to be flustered.

“I-I.. yes. You- you’re so beautiful.” You look down at the white quilt, briefly to compose yourself before looking back up at her. Abby blushes a bit and smiles at you before she grabs the strap from the bed, she lets out the smallest moan as she pulls it on, the strap easily sinking into her.

“Feels…feels real good.” She gasps out as she adjusts the harness. The sight of Abby like that had you dripping down your thighs, you were starting to grow impatient.

“Get on your hands and knees for me baby, face the mirror.” You do as she says and she crawls back into the bed behind you. She kneels and rests her hands on your hips, smoothing them up and down. “Gonna use my fingers first, wanna make sure you’re nice and ready for me.” She takes her finger and swipes it up your slit gathering the wetness that had pooled there and starts teasing you entrance before sinking her large digit into your cunt. She gasps at how easily her finger slides into you, causing her to clench around the strap. She starts moving her finger in and out of your entrance slowly. She leans down, her mouth settling right next to your ear and whispers “You’re gonna watch me fuck you in that mirror.” You look up from the quilt and glance in the mirror. "Don't look away or I'll stop." She easily adds a second finger as you observe the way Abby is leaned over your naked body staring at you intently through the mirror. You whimper at the sight, tightening around her fingers. She leans to back away from your ear and starts kissing a trail down your spine. Her lips are so soft and the gentleness of the action paired with her roughly fucking you with her fingers was driving you insane. You begin letting out little moans every time her fingers pump into you.

“You think you’re ready for me?”

“Y-yes please.” you whimper, you would almost be embarrassed with how desperate you sounded, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. She pulls her fingers out of your soaking cunt and sucks them clean. She runs her hands gently down from your hips to your thighs.

“Gonna go nice and slow, alright? Just tell me if you need to stop.” She guides the strap to your wet entrance and slowly starts sinking in. Your muscles stretch and contract around the thick strap and you loudly whimper at the feeling. Abby starts making small sounds, clearly trying to hold herself back. She sinks all the way in and you both let out loud moans, she could feel the other side of the strap sinking deeper into her.

“You ok? I won’t move until you say.” Her voice is slightly pitched, she can barely manage to speak through the intense pleasure. Abby could barely contain herself.

“I-I’m ok, you can move.” Abby lets out a large sigh of relief and begins slowly moving her hips. You watch her face through the mirror as she lets out little gasps and moans as she fucks you. She starts moving a little faster when she meets you eyes in the mirror, propelled by the sight of you watching her.

“F-feels so good.” She breathes out. “Not sure I can hold myself back for much longer, baby.”

You can barely get out the words, “D-don’t I can take it.”

“A-alright, whatever you say miss.” She stops for a moment to grab your hips and adjust herself. A loud whimper escapes from your lips when she starts pounding into you. Hard. She’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you and you swear you start to see stars. Every time you try and take a breath a the air is fucked out of you. Abby can’t hold back her moans any longer, they loudly echo through the room along with your own. Her moaning somehow makes everything better, the fact that she can’t even begin to try and control herself has you clenching around the silicone dick.

“God, this feel-feels so much better than I thought it would.” She says between moans.

“F-fuck Abby, feels s-so good.” You whimper out, you start to let your head drop, starting to lose the strength.

“K-keep looking in the mirror, want you to watch me fuck you.” You muster up the strength to pick your head back up, watching as Abby pounded into you.

“Oh god.” Abby whimpers, further losing her composure as you obey what she says. She keeps fucking you at a rapid pace and you can’t even control the noises pouring out of you anymore. The both of your moans echo through the room, along with the sound of Abby fucking you. You were in Heaven.

“Abs I- fuck!” You’re not even sure what you were trying to say, but she seemed to understand.

“I know baby, feels too good, feels- oh fuck.” Abby is starting to lose control, she’s getting too close too fast. “I need to slow down baby, or I’m gonna come.” You whine a bit as she slows down her pace. You grind back into her, trying to get some relief, but after a few seconds Abby speeds back up again.

“Feels too good to be going slow, I-I can’t do it.” You let your head drop again, but Abby won’t have it, “Look at me, look at me through that mirror baby.” You can barely manage to hold your head up, but you do what she says. She notices that you’re starting to weaken so she wraps her hands around your stomach to pull you up so you're kneeling in front of her. She uses one arm to hold you against her as she continues to guide the strap in and out of you, her warm strong body supporting you through it all. “Keep watching the mirror baby,” she gasps into your ear, “fuck, feels so good.”

You feel the pressure in your belly building, right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore Abby moves her other hand down to tease your clit. She moves it in slow circles and you loudly moan her name, overcome with pleasure.

“You gonna come baby?” Abby asks quietly in your ear. Your eyes start to close, your pleasure starting to reach an almost unbearable peak. “Keep your eyes open and watch that mirror, baby and maybe I’ll let you come.” She holds you tighter against her, her strong arm holding you in place as she somehow fucked you harder.

“Please, please I need to-” You cut yourself off with a moan, trying to hold your climax back.

“I’m almost there, miss, just a little-” Abby grunts, “l-little longer, you can take it, can’t you?.” Her moans start to build, she’s getting painfully close, she wants to make this last as long as possible, but she won't be able to make it much longer. She moves her fingers on your clit faster. “F-fuck, come for me baby, p-please miss.” At her words you let go, your moans echo through the room harmonizing with her wild grunts, both of you reaching your high at the same time. She keeps moving the strap in and out of you, fucking you through it.

Eventually you start to come down and she has reduced you to a puddle of jelly. You could barely hold yourself up, relying completely on her arms to keep you upright. She lays you down on the bed gently and removes the strap, throwing it on the ground. She lays down next to you and pulls you practically limp body to lay on top of hers, resting your head on her chest and letting your legs intertwine. You can hear her heartbeat and she’s so, so warm. You wanted to say something, but you physically couldn’t, you were gonna need a bit to recover.

Surprisingly Abby breaks the silence, softly whispering “Thank you miss.” At that you promptly fall asleep to the sound of her steady breathing.

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happy pride month to my gals and my non-binary pals🌈! comments and notes are always appreciated. remember if you liked this go visit Jupiter X's page and check out the audio!!!! I love each and every one of you, I'm going to be posting more because of pride month and because y'all deserve it.

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 6 days

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Datura Pt 11

Summary: Returning to the Mountain brings up a lot of feelings and Reader tries and fails to keep them all bottled up.

Content Warnings: SMUT (I told you it would come eventually ;) ), a lot of dirty talk, suggestiveness, a little light bondage if you squint, as well as alcohol consumption and drug use.

Author's Note: I apparently have a lot of feelings about sitting in Rhys's lap, 'cause I wrote this Vamp!Rhys fic and this in the same week. I was gonna end it on an angsty note, but the miscommunication trope makes me want to rip my hair out, so I made it fluffy instead (they're adults they can TALK TO EACH OTHER like adults). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, and thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, ya'll make me want to keep writing <3

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The music is a heavy pulse in your skull, drowning out all thought as the lights flash and flare overhead like dozens of fireworks in time to the beat. Your hips sway, flimsy excuse of a dress clinging to your thighs as you twirl and spin in time to the beat. Dozens of hands pass you a long, keep you spinning and spinning until the lights glitter like stars overhead. You throw your head back and laugh at the way they glitter and stretch along your quickly blurring vision.

Someone passes you another cup and you tip the contents back in one gulp, savoring the burn, relishing in the way it fills your empty stomach. You’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, lost count of where the empty ones go as you move along with the crowd, let the press of bodies move you like an ebbing tide.

A cigarette gets passed your way, the violet smoke filtering in hazy rings around people’s heads like halos. Do you smoke? You can’t remember. Can’t think about why you should care at all as you bring it to your lips and inhale deeply, letting the mirthroot take hold.

This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks, it’s the first time you allow yourself complete unbridled freedom. There is nothing to worry about here but following the music and the flow of drink as the mirthroot makes your body loose and limber.

Strong hands settle on your hips as you take another drag, eyes closed, savoring the burn. You sway your hips under the grip, pushing your body back into the firm planes of the male behind you. You don’t have the presence of mind to be mortified, to think about the way you’re grinding on a stranger in the middle of this crowd of people.

Warm breath frames your neck, skittering over the golden collar still encircling your throat. “I think you’ve had enough, Darling.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. The words dance around the bargain mark on your ribs, heat flaring in your chest that has nothing to do with the fae wine or the mirthroot and everything to do with the fact that when you’d been dragged back into your cell, it had been empty. Empty and had smelled like her. And you’d thrown yourself against the battered door, claws slashing across the worn iron until they shattered from your fingertips, until you splattered blood across the unyielding iron, dark mist filling the cell until it nearly sucked the air from the room. You don’t know how or why the door held, why your nails couldn’t cut through the strange marks etched into the door; the only thing that was clear is that in retaliation for leaving, your fault or not, she’d taken Rhys and had left you alone in the dark. Days passed without word, without food, until the guards had come and thrown you into a room with the order to bathe and change and be ready in an hour and you complied only with the intent to go right into the Throne Room to rip her throat out with your teeth. But Rhys hadn’t been at her side when you arrived either, hadn’t been a face in the crowd as Amarantha declared to the court that you had slain the twins sent from Hybern for attacking their Queen. The crowd that days ago had been laughing at your plight as you’d been made to kneel on the floor like an animal was now cheering you on like a hero. Fickle and spineless; Amarantha said jump and they asked how high without question or reason. She’d left you to their whims after that and the wine had started flowing and you’d needed to calm the panic and rage swelling like a storm beneath your skin and had reached for one. One had somehow turned into two and then three and you’d lost count after that, lost yourself in the blissful emptiness and tried to forget how powerless you really were in all of this.

You turn in his arms and though he remains standing where he is, there’s suddenly six of him spinning in dizzying circles and you have to grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself on your feet.

“Easy,” he says, his grip on your hips firm.

You’ve forgotten just how big he is compared to you, how much of you he can fit in his hands. You're too far gone to stop yourself from wondering how those hands would feel beneath your dress, on your thighs, spreading you open…

“Easy,” he says again, nostrils flaring like he scents the effect he has on you like this.

Your hands feel like they're drifting through soup as you reach out to brush your hand through his hair. He’s clean too, skin healed, the clothes new and finely pressed. There is no lingering scent of incense, though you’re pretty sure the mirthroot you smell is on your skin and not his, he remains wholly jasmine and citrus. Nothing of her on him.

“You’re ok?” The words slur out of you, sound muffled and distant even as they come out your mouth. You need him to tell you he’s ok, that she didn’t hurt him, that he got called away for something, anything. He does other things for her, he brought in Tamlin all those weeks ago, he has other roles, but you don’t know how to make the words come out against the fog that rolls through your head. “You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get you some water.”

You shake your head. Water is somewhere near the tables and lounge chairs in the corner, somewhere she might be lurking, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for her chance to steal him again and you can’t have that. “Want to dance.” Want to dance and drink and forget; want to smoke and move and let the music erase everything that is happening around you so that the only thing that matters is the two of you. It’s an added bonus that if he dances with you then that means he keeps his hands on you, has an excuse to keep touching you. Gods you want more of that!

“Water first,” he says, giving you a little nudge backwards.

The move makes the world spin again and you giggle as you let yourself fall into it.

“Wow, you’re really drunk,” he says as he hauls you against his chest and half carries half drags you through the crowd.

“You’re strong,” you giggle. You can feel the muscles in his arms and chest tighten as he moves you around, his fingertips digging deliciously in your hips.

It’s by sheer force of Rhys’s will that you end up in a chair with a glass of water, that you take a single sip of and make a face. “Gross. Want more wine.”

A servant automatically appears with a glass beside you, but before you can grab it, or spill it given the way your limbs flop around, he snatches it off the tray. “Water first.”

You stick out your lower lip. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

He takes a drink out of the cup and suddenly the most exciting thing in the world is watching how his throat works when he swallows and the way the wine stains his lips. “‘Cause it’s fun,” he retorts.

You manage to get another sip of water down before you accidentally catch the glass on the edge of the table and spill it everywhere. “Fuck me,” you say dejectedly. In your state your first thought is to use your skirts to try and dry up the mess, but there’s not enough of them, the sheer fabric barely covering the tops of your thighs.

“You have impeccable manners,” he says as he reaches for your hands to stop you from flashing the whole room as you try and wiggle the dress up enough to use it as a napkin. With a snap of his fingers the mess cleans itself.

“Ooooohhh neat,” you run a finger over the dry table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

You’re too drunk to notice your mistake, but he says, “If you had any powers left, sure,” a little louder than necessary to cover you.

“Right,” you slur as you try to stand on shaky legs. “Well water was good, we dance now.”

He remains a firm wall between you and the dance floor. “Unless you can absorb water through your skin, you didn’t actually drink anything.”

“Had a sip.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Meanie,” you hiss.

“You’re very cute when you’re drunk,” he teases and the grin he gives you makes you want to stretch up on your toes and kiss him right there.

“You’re very kissable when you smile,” you return.

Rhys huffs a laugh and you think you might do just about anything to get him to laugh again.

“I’m always very kissable,” he retorts. “It’s part of my charm.”

“So make part of your charm dancing with me,” you press.

He grabs your hand like he might do just that, but instead, spins around you to claim an empty couch and pulls you down to sit in his lap so fast the world flips and twirls in a blur of pulsing colors that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The wine rises up in your throat, threatening to come back out in a rush and you curl into his chest trying to find a way to make it stop.

“I think this is better.”

You squeeze your temples with your palms. “Make my brain stop spinning,” you whine. Maybe he’s right, maybe dancing is a bad idea.

Besides, he’s still touching you like this. More than touching actually. You’re situated in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, chest to chest, no collar around his throat to stop you if you wanted to put your lips to his neck. There’s not even a scar or bruise to indicate that it had been there, nothing but smooth, bronze skin and the teasing peak of his tattoos beneath his collar.

You brace yourself against his shoulders as the world stops spinning, suddenly very aware of how high your skirt is riding up and how strong the muscles in his thighs are between your legs.

He brings his hands to hold your hips again and you thank the Mother that you’re not so drunk that you’ve lost your inhibitions completely because the only thought in your head right now is how it would feel to grind yourself down on him.

“You’re very drunk,” he says lowly, his own gaze locked on the space between your bodies like he’s drinking in the way your thighs look around him.

“So?”

“So it would be wrong,” he retorts.

“What?” You move your hands to the back of the couch behind him, chest brushing his. There’s barely any straps to your top, the neckline a deep v that leaves your cleavage on display and you don’t miss the way his gaze tracks it as you lean in. “What would be wrong?”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip, staring and something stirs deep inside you. Claim. Claim. Claim. He is your mate and you want him to touch you, kiss you, claim you.

It’s the thought that makes you pause for a brief moment. Does he know your mates? Does he feel this growing need? This incessant longing beating from your rib cage that needs to be touched and held and claimed so deeply you forget what it felt like to be anything else? Is that the bond? Or the wine?

“Doing all the things I’ve been thinking about since the moment I had my lips on yours,” he says, voice barely a whisper, gaze still transfixed on your body.

You preen under the heat in his gaze, press your chest a little more firmly into his so that you can be nose to nose with him. The wine has certainly made you more brazen. “What kinds of things, Rhys?”

The hands holding your hips tighten, fingertips kneading the soft flesh hard enough to bruise and yet your whole body turns molten at that touch. It’s the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and after days and days of cold emptiness, the heat it sparks through your body is more addictive than any wine or drug you can consume here.

“Want this dress off you for starters,” he murmurs, full lips drifting down to dust over the straps clinging to your shoulders.

His words conjure an image in your mind of him leaning forward, pulling the straps down with his teeth, baring the full expanse of your body to him. You shiver under the mental image, hips rocking down against him.

“Want to mark every bit of you I can reach, so that no one dares touch you,” he continues, teeth scraping over your shoulder. “So that everyone knows your mine.”

His. The possession in his tone really does you in, heat building in your lower belly as you grind yourself down against the growing bulge in his pants. The scrape against your core makes your mouth drop open, groan falling from your parted lips. It would be so easy to come undone from this alone.

“Only mine,” he emphasizes, sucking a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, visible beneath that damned collar you can’t take off.

“Rhys,” you whimper, releasing your grip on the back of the couch to drag your hands through his dark hair. “Please.”

His lips move along your throat, teeth scraping your skin before sucking another mark into your sensitive flesh. He’s taking his time, just as he promised all those weeks ago on Calanmai. “Want to know what little noises you’d make for me, how you’d fall apart in my hands…”

You drag your hand from his hair, reaching for the straps of your dress to pull them down for him, hoping to spur him further into action, but he finally releases his grip on your hips to stop you.

“None of that, Darling,” he tuts. “It comes off when I say it does.”

To that point, when you try to rock your hips against him again, it's his glittering, obsidian power that pins you in place, a slither of darkness twining around your hips to hold you there, utterly at his mercy.

He chuckles when you whimper and pout, lower lip sticking out, tears welling up in your eyes, because it’s not fair that he’s this close, that he’s just a hair breadth away from where you need him most and he knows it. He can smell it on you, see it on every line in your face, and yet he won’t move to help you.

“Please, Rhys, please,” you beg. The need for him is unbearable, your whole body burning like it’s on fire, the only relief is the contact with his body. Your mate so close to where you need him most.

“Hogging the woman of the hour, are we?”

You hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps over the pounding of the base against the rock, the sudden appearance making you flinch as Rhys throws a warning snarl over your shoulder. It only makes the red headed male approaching chuckle as he comes to stand directly behind you. The cedar and cinnamon smell of him reminds you of curling up under a warm wool blanket next to a fireplace with your favorite book about vampires, something you like to do in nice Autumn weather.

Slender fingers drag up your spine, and in your delirious state, it makes you arch your back as you shiver under it.

“Eris,” Rhys purrs, but there’s an edge in his tone as he watches you move under another male’s ministrations. The sliver of his power around your waist tightens, the shadows slipping under your skirts to writhe against your flushed skin. He allows you to jerk forward, hips rocking right into the obvious sign of his own arousal, and your eyes roll back into your head at the contact.

“I can name a dozen males who would kill for a chance to be where you are right now, Rhysand,” Eris returns.

“I don’t share,” Rhys says and cauldron that’s all it takes for you to place your lips against his throat. He hums his approval as you scrape your teeth against his skin, hands threading into your hair as you nip and bite and use your tongue to cool any pain you cause him.

Eris plops himself down in the seat next to Rhys, long arms thrown over the back of the couch as he makes himself comfortable.

You can’t bring yourself to care about the audience as you nip at the underside of his jaw. He tilts his head back for you so you can reach more of him unhindered and you sink a little lower down on his lap chasing any friction you can find before the shadows tighten and still your movements again.

“Bastard,” you growl into his throat, but he merely turns his attention to the male next to him.

“You didn’t respond to my message,” Eris hisses. A glass of wine appears in his hand and he takes a slow drink. To any onlookers he’s merely enjoying the party with the High Lord and his nightly entertainment.

“What message?”

“Shit.” This conversation is becoming sobering, despite your best efforts to tune out the other male and focus solely on the pleasure just out of reach. All night long you’d been able to forget.

Eris gives you a sidelong glance that might have made you squirm under the intensity if Rhys hadn’t shifted beneath you to get a better look at the other male, hips brushing up against your center in a move that is definitely intentional.

“The one I gave her,” Eris snarls.

“This is the first I’ve seen her in days,” Rhys retorts, a hand stroking through your hair. “You know how to get in contact with me.”

Eris glances around at the dancers that move past for refreshments as he takes another drink. Only when they’re gone does he say, “So you didn’t tell her to kill the twins?”

You stop moving; stop thinking about Rhys’s body as the image of Dagdan and Brannagh’s mangled bodies flash across your mind. You’re suddenly a lot more sober than you had been moment ago.

Rhys brushes a mental hand against your mind and you flinch, head still tender from the beating it had taken trying to keep your cousins out. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone makes shame burn its way through your lungs. At the littlest thing he’s dropping everything to make sure you’re ok, and yet here you are, with no idea where he’s been or what he’s been through and you’re grinding in his lap like a horny teenager. What kind of mate are you?

“No I didn’t,” Rhys says to Eris, even as he makes another tender stroke against your mind, asking to be let in. “But I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think we can use it to our advantage?” Eris asks.

You don’t deserve how gentle he is with you, but you can’t stop yourself from lowering your shields just enough to let him in. He should know just how much of a monster you’re capable of being before he gets too close.

“Will you show me?” He asks and you open the doorway into the memory, keeping the conversation you’d had with Tamlin about him, the realization of what he is to you, out of reach. He deserves better than that.

Rhys strokes his hands in your hair as he watches the memory unfold, your body shaking in his grip as all that blood and gore comes into view. When it’s over, he closes the door in your mind and clicks the lock into place for you. “It’s over. You’re safe. You did what you had to do to survive, there is no shame in that.”

You press your face into his shoulder to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. You’re an ugly crier when you’re tipsy and you know if you start, you won’t stop.

“I think it’ll bring Hybern here quicker,” Rhys says to Eris, as he drags the fingers in your hair down to trace your spine. To an onlooker, he’s still playing with you, only the two of you know how often he’s traced these shapes into your skin when you wake up screaming in the dungeons. “Which can be played to our advantage if we’re careful.”

Eris takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

“If Hybern can be convinced that our queen is acting out of her own agenda instead of his, he may just do our work for us.”

“A dangerous game,” Eris frowns.

“It always is,” Rhys returns.

It’s astounding how calm and level headed he can remain, always centered, even while everyone else rages and panics around him. How are you supposed to be his equal? To his calm there is only your spinning thoughts and unchecked temper. Everything makes you want to claw and rage and smash things; aren’t mates supposed to balance each other out? What do you bring him other than another mess to sort through?

“Well if you’re not going to share her, I’ll leave you to it,” Eris says as he downs his cup and stands, making a show of stretching, tight shirt rising up to expose the toned line of his abs to a passing cluster of male and female dancers.

Rhys chuckles at that, sliding a little lower into the couch, as he says, “She’s all mine.”

Is this all the conversation they can have? A few passing whispers? A few half-veiled hopes at a plan? Fifty years of juggling court masks and gathering allies and pushing pieces into place in the shadows while everyone else parties around them? It’s such a contrast to the world you’re used to that you can’t help but feel small inside it.

It’s only when he’s gone that Rhys asks, “Are you ok?”

“I thought being drunk was supposed to make me feel less depressed,” you grumble into his shirt because he’s pleasantly warm and you can’t bring your body to move from where you’re pressed into his chest.

“I think you passed over the threshold for that a couple drinks ago,” he replies.

“Take me back to the blissful void,” you whine.

“Well enough people have seen you here with me, I think we can slip away and get you into bed without causing a scene now.”

He’d pulled you over here on purpose, removing the shield of the crowd so people would see you with him, see you cutting loose, and when you disappeared they’d think he’d taken you to bed and not wonder if there was anything more to it, because his reputation was enough. That mask was so encompassing it could shield you too.

Rhys winnows you away and you can’t tell what end is up anymore, not until he sets you square in the center of a bed with black silk sheets. His room, as dust covered and bare as it had been the last time.

You groan as you fall back into the pillows, all the wine threatening to come up again as you try to keep yourself upright. This position allows you to feel just how wet you are between your legs, making you stop squeezing your eyes shut to look at the damp spot you’d left on Rhys’s pants. Not that he seems to notice as he peels off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting comfortable for the night, even as shame makes your cheeks turn bright red. What is wrong with you?

“You need a bucket over there?” He asks.

You need to drink until you can forget what you’ve been doing all night. How are you supposed to look at him now?

You hear the clink of his belt coming off before he climbs into the bed next to you and you force yourself not to open your eyes and look at what he’s wearing to bed, because you’ve made a fool of yourself enough for one night.

“That last drink was a mistake,” you lie, because what else are you supposed to say?

His body is warm as he lays down beside you. “You played your part well,” Rhys encourages. “No one will think twice about where you’ve gone.”

You’re an idiot, but you’re not quite sober enough to think better of it as you ask, “Is that all this is? A game?”

Rhys uses a bit of his power to snuff the candles out, bathing the room in utter darkness. “It’s necessary-”

You roll onto your side, finally daring to look at him, as best you can in the dark anyway. “But is that all you want it to be?” You press.

He’d been laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, but at your words he rolls over too, so you’re once again nose to nose, practically sharing a breath.

“Wanting anything is dangerous, Y/N.”

“So all that you said earlier, about wanting me, that was just for show? This is just a mask?”

“It keeps you safe,” he says so low it's almost a growl.

“But it’s not what you want?”

“I can’t…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me, I cannot want anything other than to get out of here.”

Your eyes sting and you’re glad for the dark, glad that it hides the tears welling up in your eyes. “I can play this part, if that’s what we need to fulfill this bargain,” it’s a concentrated effort to keep your voice steady, but you mean it. If this is all it will be, then you will have to find a way to live with it, because at least your mate will be alive. And maybe, if Amarantha sees anything like what you two had been doing tonight, then maybe she’d direct that anger at you instead of him. You could find a way to use it to protect him, the same way he’d used it for you.

He’s your mate, whatever you have to do to make sure he survives, you’ll do it. Even if it tears you apart inside.

“But please, just tell me that it’s not real, that you don’t really want me, so that I can prepare, so that I don’t overstep. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

His pause feels like it spans an hour, the silence ticking away like a clock in the darkness. “I…”

You stamp down the hope flaring in your chest, it’ll be easier to deal with if he is up front that he doesn’t see you as anything but a means to an end. “What do you want, Rhys?”

He growls, the sound skittering across your bones as he throws an arm around your waist and crashes his lips against yours. “You,” he says into your mind. “I want you in any way you’ll have me.”

The ink on your chest warms, feels strangely like it’s glowing beneath your skin as the solid weight of him settles on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. You're a tangle of limbs and teeth, as he kisses you like it might be his only chance to.

You drag your hands down the sharp contours of his spine, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as his tongue slides behind your teeth to taste you. This is far better than any drug, no amount of mirthroot could ever make you feel this high.

“You’re ok with this?” He pants into your lips, finally coming up for air.

“More than ok,” you confirm and that’s all it takes for him to start sliding the straps off your dress, pulling the tight fitting bodice slowly from your body. The chill in the air is only a momentary discomfort before his hands and lips chase it away as he follows the fabric down your body.

Thank the Mother for the privacy of the room, that you hadn’t managed to get your top off like you’d tried to do in the throne room, because the noise you let out when he gets his mouth around your nipple is embarrassingly loud, whole body flushed crimson. You clamp your hand over your mouth when he does the same move on your other breast, or at least you try to, that slithering ether of power snags your wrist and pins it above your head before you can cut off the noise.

“None of that,” he hums into your skin, teeth scraping your skin. “Want to hear you.”

Cauldron he’ll be the death of you!

It’s his power that whisks the glamor away from the bargain mark so he can run his lips over the ink, tracing the flower petals and vines. “We should make more bargains, you look so pretty with all this ink.”

You huff a laugh as you scrape your nails through his hair, making a mess of it. “What kinds of bargains?”

He kisses lower, pulling the dress down towards your hips, following it again. “That you’ll let me taste you like this once a day for the rest of eternity,” he suggests as he lifts your hips to get the dress lower.

“I’m not wasting a bargain on that,” you huff, though you’re embarrassed to admit the way the suggestion makes heat pool in your core.

“You’re right, twice a day is more practical,” he says as he slips both the dress and your underthings off in one fell swoop. Strong arms wrap around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and you barely have time to draw a shaky breath before he’s running his tongue up your center.

“I-” all thought and argument eddies from your mind as your body arches under his ministrations.

“More than that, perhaps?” He teases, adding a finger to the mix, even as his tongue swirls through your quickly budding arousal.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling his hair as you try and guide him deeper. “Rhys,” you whimper. He feels so good; so perfect. Nothing else would ever compare; he’s barely touched you and you’re fully ready to come apart already.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out as his tongue flicks over your clit, the combination making your head spin. You screw your eyes shut as your body tightens, muscles taut as a bow string as your pleasure builds too fast to prepare for. He might still be talking nonsense about bargains but you genuinely can’t hear a word he says against the white noise tearing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. It’s right where the flower-what did he say it was called? Datura?-sits over your heart that you feel the bond between your souls, like a tether of glittering starlight. It’s been there, faint before, just enough of a tether to let you feel a bit of him at the other end, but now it thrums with his power, like it’s searching for your own. A call like the one he’d sent out on Calanmai, and you can’t tell if he’s testing to see if you know it’s there, or if it’s you pulling on it, begging to be closer to him as your high crashes over you.

Rhys kisses his way back up your body, lips damp with your arousal. “You know?”

The disbelief in his tone brings you back to reality. Your shields had been down and you’d just…

You push yourself up on your elbows. “You knew?” You counter.

He brushes his lips over the bargain mark again, distracting himself from looking into your eyes as he says, “I suspected, before Calanmai, but afterwards, when I saw you for real, not just as a dream, it clicked.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

Another kiss on your heated skin, body relaxing under his touch. “For decades,” he whispers. “And I told myself that it was enough, that I’d leave it there, where you were safe and far away from all of this, but then there were whispers in the court about at a weapon Hybern was looking for. The more she had me look into it, the more my dreams started making sense, the better I could see you.”

You brush your fingers through the hair falling over his eyes, prompting him to finally look at you. “When she narrowed down that you were in Spring, she started sending me out on Calanmia to look for you, thinking it might mask all her hunters with those coming to the party. It was my only chance to reach you and I had every intention to get you to leave Spring.”

He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips. “I never meant to let you see me, but you were so scared and she decided to come out herself for the first time in years and I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if she got her hands on you first.”

Your eyes sting at the confession. Your selfless mate, who through all these years of trauma, had still been willing to let you go without ever getting to see you if it meant you didn’t end up here.

“I swore that I’d do everything in my power to get you out, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away, no matter how much I tried to. You needed me and I… I need you.”

You’re not entirely sure how useful you’ve been to him in all of this, but you let him speak anyway.

“Not just this,” he says, gesturing to your bodies. “But for all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

You sit up as best you can around the weight of him over you so you can grip his face. “I’m not stuck with you. I’m choosing you. I want you, Rhys.”

The disbelief in his eyes makes your heart ache and you lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose. “Not just for this,” you repeat, gesturing to your bodies as he had done. “Though it is amazing.”

He grins at that.

“And not just this,” you drag his hand over the ink on your chest. “But for whatever is beyond this. When it’s all over, when we’ve won and we’ve got her stupid head on a pike, I want to explore whatever comes next with you.”

He kisses you then, eagerly, a little less frantic than before, but with no less desire, the taste of your arousal still faint on his swollen lips. You lean back into the mattress, pulling him down with you.

“I know this whole thing is twisted and terrifying, but I want to walk with you through it. Together.”

“Together,” he confirms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A new bargain mark zaps across your skin, over your palm, where your hands are intertwined, a twin to the one on his own hand.

“I still think I made an excellent bargain offer,” he says as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re insufferable, Rhysand,” you laugh.

“I think the word you’re thinking of is insatiable,” he counters as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“That too,” you reply as you arch your back, the tip of his cock gliding through your arousal. It’s a little more of stretch than you're used to, but the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he slowly rocks his hips into yours, taking his time to let you adjust. He really will ruin anyone else for you, not that you’ll ever want anything other than this from here on out.

“Darling,” he purrs, or tries to, the groan he lets out as he fully seats himself inside you makes shivers run up your spine. “You have no idea how insatiable I can be.”

You rock your hips, prompting him to move, to match your rhythm, to fill and take and claim you as your body has been begging him to all night long. “I think you should show me.”

The laugh he lets out sounds more like a growl as he picks up his pace, one hand braced against the headboard to give him more leverage as he slides nearly out of you and slams back in. You cling to his shoulders, nails gliding over his sweat-dampened skin for leverage, his name a whimper on your lips.

The bond between you glitters, swells with all the affection and desire he feels for you as he shoots in down to you. For all the pain and trouble it had caused, you think you still you might have come out earlier on Calanmai, just to feel this sooner.

You whimper his name again and again as your high once again draws closer, your body white hot.

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear and judging by the frantic rutting of his hips you know he’ll be right there with you. Together in this, as you will be in the rest of it. You let yourself fall, unrestrained, as pleasure washes over you, your mate giving a shout as he follows close behind. The two of you topple into the sheets, clinging to each other as you catch your breath.

“You ok?” He asks as you cling tightly to him, even as your body relaxes.

You nuzzle your face into his chest. “I’m with my mate, how could I not be?” Whatever tomorrow holds, whatever dangers lie ahead, you can rest knowing that you’ll be together for it.

------------------------------------------

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13uswntimagines · 10 months

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Promises We Make (Lindsey Horan x Soulmate!R)

Request: A Lindsey x reader soulmate AU where people know they're soulmates because they share dreams with them. Something angsty and happy and a lot of things.

Author's note: Wow, this has been a crazy long time coming. I think I have almost 2 years of planning, writing and re-writing in this fic. It’s a bit different than the original. It includes some new scenes and things that I meant to put in but never physically did. It feels like a little piece of my soul, so I really hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think, I’m always down to chat. Hit me up with questions or concerns.

Without Further ado:

You had never understood when people said that the dreams you shared with your soulmate were more vivid. It was hard for your brain to wrap itself around the idea that everything was more intense in the shared dreams, especially the first one.

You didn’t understand until you blinked into consciousness.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the immediate kaleidoscope of colors that met you. A deep blue sky with cotton-like clouds lazily drifting in the wind. The sun peeked out at you from behind them, its rays landing pleasantly on your face, a light breeze fluttering around you.

Your fingers wound through the cool grass under you, as you pushed yourself to a sitting position.

It was nice, even if you weren’t quite sure where you were.

The comfortability of it all felt like lead in your stomach, countering the inherently light feeling of your surroundings. This was the moment you had been dreading for your entire life. The dream you had been dreading for your entire life.

The dream you hadn’t been sure you would ever have.

You blew out a shuddering breath, your eyes tracing a netless goal at the far end of the field and a rusty teeter-totter nestled behind it in a halfhearted effort to follow your therapist's technique for quelling the growing butterflies in your chest.

Her advice never worked, but still, you tried.

You drew your eyes along the heavy chain link fence that sprouted from the back corner of the goal and encased the field, separating it from the tall trees that acted as a shield for a low brick building.

The leaves were alight with the warm oranges and browns of fall, rippling in time with the drifting breeze like the hands of fans as you made your final lap around the stadium.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

You supposed that they were the only spectators in a place like this, even if you still weren’t sure where you were. You could tell it was a school playground, possibly from childhood, but it wasn’t from your childhood.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

Or maybe they were a divine sign. A premonition flashing red, orange, and yellow, warning you of the incoming storm. Like the creak of a door before the monster appeared in a movie.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled at the light crinkle of grass behind you. The first indication that you weren’t alone.

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

“Hey, fancy meeting you here,”

Her voice immediately sent a shiver down your spine, untangling the suffocating knot that had formed around your lungs. It had goosebumps appearing up and down your arms and legs.

You should have been surprised, but you weren’t.

Your head turned to look back over your shoulder, and suddenly your breath was gone again.

You gulped, trying not to think about how the sun filtering through her blonde hair reminded you so much of a halo. How the sight alone was enough to ease the bubbling dread in your stomach. She had been through almost everything with you. You and your heart had always been safe with her.

She wouldn’t hurt you.

“Hey Linds,” You smiled softly.

The smile she returned didn’t quite meet her eyes. “There’s a set of swings over there if you wanna chat?” She gestured to your left, shifting on her feet awkwardly.

You nodded, pushing yourself up noting how soft the grass felt under your bare feet following after her. It felt natural. You had been following her for nearly all of your adult life.

The two of you had met in France when you were barely 17 and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you were attached at the hip. She had stubbornly forced her way beyond the wall your childhood had built and into your heart. You undoubtedly loved her, even if you were too afraid to admit it.

You resisted the urge to take her hand as you walked, one that you had never experienced in real life. She always reserved hand-holding for her significant others, and it was one of the few lines that the two of you had never blurred (except in France, but that didn’t count).

The walk over to the small, blue-gray swing set was quiet, but the two of you had never been uncomfortable in silence. It was familiar, warm. The silence was full of safety, even as you settled on the plastic seat.

“Where are we, exactly?” You asked, your fingers wrapping tightly around the chain, the nail of your thumb picking at the slightly peeling paint, and your toes digging into the dip in the ground underneath you.

It made you feel like you were in middle school, talking to a girl you liked for the first time, not sure what to say or how to say it. Putting your feelings into words had never been your strong suit.

She cleared her throat, the crinkles by her eyes tightening for a long second as she began to swing slowly, her cleats scratching against the ground. “My elementary school,”

More silence stretched between you, and you watched her closely. It unsettled you how her eyes remained glued to her cleats, how she wouldn't look up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed. Shouldn’t you both be happy? Shouldn’t she feel as relieved as you felt?

The two of you had been dancing around this thing for so long and now it all made sense. You didn’t have to be afraid of how you were so drawn to each other anymore. You could allow yourself to feel.

But Lindsey didn’t look relieved.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” She said, her voice barely audible, rough with emotions that you didn’t quite understand, the tip of her cleat kicking up a clump of dirt.

“I don’t think it has to,” You said slowly, reaching out to catch her hand hoping she would look at you. “We can take this slow, and figure it out as we go,”

You weren’t sure how the whole soulmate thing was supposed to work. You had honestly never believed in soulmates, but you were willing to try.

You would be willing to do just about anything for her.

Another beat of silence passed between you, and you squeezed her hand once in reassurance. It would all be alright. The two of you could make it through anything together.

Lindsey dragged her gaze up. You sucked in a deep breath as red-rimmed blue finally met you. “I have a boyfriend Y/n. I love him.”

It felt like a knife, sharp and slow slipping into your chest, finding its way perfectly between your ribs. A cold ache diffused from the point of your heart and you resisted the urge to see if she had actually stabbed you.

“I love him,”

The second half of her sentence pinged around your head like the metal bearing in a pinball machine. It echoed everything you were already aware of, everything your mother had told you before you moved out.

You knew she loved you too, but she couldn’t love you the way you had always loved her. She wasn’t in love with you. She couldn’t be in love with you because she was in love with him.

You weren’t worthy of her love.

You swallowed hard. “Oh,”

The word was forced and showed more of your pain than you wanted her to see. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t love you. That was all on you.

“I don’t want things to change between us,” She said, her voice edging on pleading, willing you to understand. She squeezed your now limp fingers tightly. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you,”

You hadn’t even realized you let go of her hand.

The knife twisted in your chest, its tip scratching at your lungs with each breath you sucked past your lips. One little push and it would rip you wide open. You couldn’t bear to lose her, even if it hurt to not.

You didn’t know how to be without her.

“You won’t,”

The promise was soft, scratchy, filled with all the words you wanted to say, but couldn’t bring yourself to let out. You had never made her a promise you didn’t keep, but you weren’t sure you would be able to see this one through.

You had to try for her.

It would make her happy, and as her soulmate, that was all that should matter to you.

Her shoulders instantly relaxed, and you tried not to think about how the knife wiggled a little more at her relief. You tried not to think about how the warning from the trees had been right.

She squeezed your fingers again, tugging you off of your swing and into a hug.

“Thank you for understanding,”

You shivered at how her lips grazed your neck with the words. They tickled and ached all at the same time.

You did understand.

“Yeah. Anything for you,” You mumbled, tucking your nose against her collarbone, breathing in her vanilla body wash and perfume, allowing yourself to enjoy the contact for just a second. Pretending that it didn’t hurt. Pretending that it would all be alright.

Your eyes slid closed and you will yourself to wake up.

You could deal with her rejection, as long as you didn’t lose the people you loved the most.

*****

Your fingers wrapped tightly around the cardboard USSoccer-provided coffee cup trying to leech as much warmth from it as you could. It wasn’t that you were physically cold, but the icy sludge that settled in your stomach from the moment that you jerked awake hadn’t abated. It numbed you from the inside out, sloshing around and refusing to let you forget.

You took a little sip of your too-hot coffee, swirling the molten liquid across your tongue and savoring the sting. It did just enough to combat the icicles in your veins, but you didn't know if it was because it gave you an excuse to stay quiet and avoid your teammates or because it was actually helpful.

You knew you were too quiet for a camp breakfast, but you didn’t know any other way to maintain normalcy. The team was just starting to gel, and you didn’t want to throw that off. You knew they didn’t take soulmate issues lightly. They didn’t need the distraction.

You could pretend you were fine for their sake.

Lindsey seemed fine after all. She had taken her spot next to you without question, as though nothing had changed between you. She wrapped her arm around the back of your chair and passed you the cantaloupe from her breakfast plate like she always did. She seemed at ease, joking with your friends, nudging you with each story she told.

She seemed completely oblivious to how each action deposited a little more sediment on the growing stalagmites around your heart. How each smile pulled too tightly from your cheeks and was followed by a steaming sip.

You could pretend for her sake too. She had asked you to, and you would do anything for her.

“What about you Y/n?”

You blinked up at the mention of your name, your coffee cup landing on the table with a low tap and your eyes finding Emily’s. You could see the thinly veiled worry buried in her blue, hidden well enough that it wouldn’t be obvious to the rest of the table, except maybe Kelley but she didn’t count because she was the blonde’s soulmate.

“What about me?”

The table erupted in laughter, and Lindsey nudged you again. “You’re such a space cadet,”

You fought to hold back a cringe at the action, something that would have had warmth blooming in your chest and heat rising to your cheeks on any other day, but it just made the sludge in your stomach slosh, sending another wave of numbness through you.

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed across from you, catching your pained expression.

She had known you almost as long as you had known Lindsey and the two of you were nearly as close.

“What are your celebration plans for when we win?” Emily repeated the question, leaning forward just a bit, concern evident in her tone.

You shrugged. You hadn't considered what would happen if you managed to win the W Cup. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You and Lindsey always celebrated together, until the mess at the world cup. It had hurt too much to think about what winning would look like without your normal tradition.

“We have to get past Uzbekistan first,”

“You average almost 3 goals a game, I think we’re gonna be ok,” Kristie scoffed, shaking her head, oblivious to the way Emily and Kelley were staring at you.

“Uzbekistan isn’t exactly known for its firepower,” Rose added with a smirk, rolling her eyes. “And you can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about what you’re going to do when we win,”

“Maybe we should ask if she’s thought about who she would do when we win,” Kristie cackled, and parts of the table hummed in agreement.

You knew it was in reference to how you disappeared after you won the world cup. How they all assumed you had slept your way through several fans on your way back to the United States. You didn’t feel the need to correct them. That would involve explaining exactly what had happened.

You sent them a halfhearted smile, hoping it looked like the one you shot them when you had been caught. “I’ll probably go back to my room and drink my way through my mini-bar,”

You didn’t miss the grimace Kelley and Emily shared, or the way Lindsey's dimples jumped out as she frowned. You felt satisfaction tickle the back of your throat. Lindsey had spent the majority of her time pretending like the World Cup Celebration didn’t happen. Like the two of you didn’t almost-.

You shook your head. You told yourself not to think about it.

She would never understand the fallout like Emily and Kelley did. They were both there to see it.

“That’s lame,” Kristie said, her nose scrunching at the prospect. “At least in France, you found yourself a companion,”

Rose raised an eyebrow at you incredulously. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink alone?”

You rolled your eyes at the line. Your line. The one you had used to avoid answering questions about the world cup. You caught Lindsey's grimace out of the corner of your eye.

She believed you had slept your way back to the airplane too, but you didn’t understand why she cared.

She had a boyfriend.

The sludge in your stomach sloshed again.

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” You muttered halfheartedly, stabbing at your eggs.

You didn’t even like eggs.

“I didn’t think you’d want to after your conquests in Florida,” Lindsey said, her voice a thinly veiled sharpness.

The tone immediately drew your attention, like a razor running gently across your skin, poised to slice you open.

You didn’t talk about Florida, and most of the team acted like you didn’t disappear for 2 months after the World Cup. Considering all the other things Lindsey pretended didn’t happen, you had never expected her to bring it up.

You forced the bubbling pit in your stomach down, masking it with an easy smile. “What are your plans then?”

The table paused, Emily and Kelley both leaning forward like they were being pulled by a rope, waiting for Lindsey to answer.

You were very touchy about Florida.

The midfielder returned your easy smile, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll probably call Ty. He said he has a surprise for me,”

You did your best to keep your face straight, even as her words sent a numb wave through you.

“We all know what that will be,” Rose cackled, wiggling her eyebrows.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You didn’t want to think about her being with anyone else. You didn’t want to think about your soulmate being intimate, being vulnerable, with him.

“Too bad you two aren’t soulmates,” Sam hummed, almost offhandedly.

It still burned in the back of your throat. You didn’t want anyone thinking he was your soulmate’s soulmate.

You didn’t have a right to be possessive, but it roared to life in your chest like a lion. She was supposed to be yours but she wasn’t.

You cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to shove those feelings down. You didn’t have the right to feel those feelings.

“I think I’m gonna go to the bus early and try to catch a nap.” You said, clearing your throat as your voice caught. “I didn’t sleep well. Time change and all,”

You didn’t look up from your coffee cup as you pushed yourself up from the table, afraid of what you would see. You didn’t need to see her indifference. That would hurt worse.

You ignored the stares on your back as you took your half-eaten plate to the trash and slipped out the door.

At least if you fell asleep now, she wouldn’t be able to join you there.

****

The soccer field had always been your safe space. It was the one place in the world where your thoughts went silent and all that mattered was the present moment.

Even when things during your time at PSG had been rough, the pitch had always welcomed you like an old friend. You could forget your pain as the ball bent to your will.

Except this time you couldn’t.

Not with how oppressively hot Houston was. Not with how Vlatko was playing the starters, expecting you and Lindsey to link seamlessly. Not with how Emily and Kelley kept sending you worried glances.

It felt like an absolute nightmare in all of its vivid colors, but despite it all your performance hadn’t been affected.

You ran your hand through your hair, wiping your flyaway curls away from in front of your eyes, turning away from goal before you even saw Casey miss the save.

“How are you so fast?” Emily asked, falling into step beside you with a nudge.

You shrugged, shoving her away from you, painting a smile over your features, trying to be normal. “You’re just slow,”

Lindsey had asked you to be normal.

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed, and you knew she wasn’t fooled. You hadn’t expected her to be.

Emily had known you nearly as long as Lindsey did, and the two of you were more like sisters than friends at this point. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

You spent a month on her couch after you came back from Florida and she had even converted the 2nd room of her apartment into a bedroom for you because she didn’t think it was alright for you to be alone.

Her soulmate, Kelley, had slotted into your life just as nicely, taking the place of the older sibling you always wished your brother would be.

They were both deceptively good at reading you, and sometimes it was easier to talk to them than it was for you to talk to Tobin and Christen (your self-appointed team moms). They were just as protective.

“What’s up with you?” Emily nudged you again, catching your elbow and forcing you to look at her. “You seem off,”

You shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I told you, I didn’t sleep,”

“Which just seems odd because Abby said you were passed out cold when she came back from her shower,” Emily said, wiggling your elbow so you would look at her.

You swallowed hard. You could feel her eyes (and a few others) boring into your soul, and you weren’t quite sure how to make the words come out of your mouth. How could you tell her without hurting her relationship with Lindsey?

“You can talk to me about anything you know? Keeping it all in isn’t healthy,” She added, nudging you again.

You sighed heavily, only able to meet her eyes for a second before you had to look away. The weight of them was too much.

You had too much on your mind, and if you opened up, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

“I just want to play soccer,”

The words sounded weak even to your ears, an old excuse that had been worn through. Her eyes immediately tightened, as did the fingers on your arm.

“Does this have to do with how much your phone has been ringing?” Her voice was strained, earning an instant frown.

You didn’t think anyone noticed how often your phone had been going off, or how you never answered it.

“It’s not-“ You stuttered, shaking your head, closing your eyes, and tilting your head back. That was an entirely different can of worms you weren’t willing to open. Not on top of the Lindsey thing. “I had a bad dream, I woke up. I’m tired,”

“Do you want to talk about it,” Emily asked you gently, despite already knowing the answer.

You shook your head once, uttering a “No,” Despite the loud “yes” that echoed around your head.

Emily squeezed your arm, forcing you to look up at her, worry shining through her blue eyes. “The longer you push it away, the more it’ll hurt,”

You could hear the warning in her soft voice but also the unwillingness to press. The dance the two of you had played with for a long time.

She didn’t want you to spiral again. She didn’t want you to go back to the place you had been right after France. She didn’t want you to think you had to hide your pain for everyone else’s sake.

“I know,” You forced out, biting into your lower lip to prevent the tidal wave of emotions in your chest from breaking out. “I’ve got it handled,”

You could tell she didn’t believe you by the frown she sent your way. “And if you don’t,”

“You’ll be the first to know,” You promised, grabbing the hand on your arm and squeezing her fingers.

“Promise me,” She demanded, slightly too loud, and you felt more eyes on you.

You nodded. “Promise,”

“Ok then,” She said, releasing you and nodding towards the coach. “It’s your turn to run the drill again,”

You let an easy smirk take over your features. “Maybe you’ll catch me this time loser,”

You didn’t miss the look Emily shared with Kelley as you headed to the starting position of the drill, the telepathic-like communication only soulmates seemed to share. Or the furrowed eyebrows Lindsey sent your way.

You knew what both looks meant. Everyone would be watching you more closely for one reason or another.

******

You settled heavily into your airplane seat, your head leaning hard against the window, pressing your headphones uncomfortably into your head.

It was weird, traveling by yourself. For as long as you could remember you always flew back to Portland with Lindsey, Emily, and Tobin. With your LA trade, that wasn’t a thing anymore.

Hell, only Lindsey was left in Portland.

The only thing you preferred about flying alone was how quiet everything was. How you could finally rest.

Because camp was utterly exhausting.

You had started in both games against Uzbekistan, and you scored 5 goals in both games, but Vlatko didn’t take the opportunity to get off your ass. Instead, he had used your only 5 goals as leverage to remind you of the youngins below you vying for a spot.

And then you had the whole Lindsey situation, as you had been calling it.

It made your chest ache how she acted like nothing had happened between you. How she seemed content to walk the tightrope between friend and more than a friend, ignorant to how much it hurt.

Oblivious to the numb wave she sent through you each time she so much as brushed your skin.

It made it impossible to remain neutral, when you obsessed over every interaction you had with her, worried you were too affectionate or not affectionate enough, unable to walk the tightrope.

And then you had to deal with your friends. Well-meaning as they were, you wished they would just leave you alone. You didn’t want to talk about your sudden difficulty sleeping or have them try to cuddle you to soothe you into it.

It was easier to pretend when no one questioned you. It was easier to avoid sleep when no one was watching you.

But alone on the airplane, no one could bother you. You couldn’t receive voicemails you didn’t want to answer, or texts that would make your aching heart tear just a bit more. No one would try to make you talk, and no one would tell you how inadequate of a player you were.

It was perfect.

Your eyelids drooped without your consent as you pressed your forehead harder into the cool glass. You shouldn’t have been surprised after 40 hours of nearly no sleep and a 95-minute game under your belt.

You wished you could stay forever, and let the subzero air outside of the airplane leach your exhaustion away.

****

You kept your eyes closed as you came into consciousness, pressing your face deeper into the soft sand underneath you as the sound of the lapping waves and the salty air washed over you.

You didn’t even have to look to know where you were.

You let it soothe your soul, filling the holes in your chest and removing some of the icicles in your veins.

You felt her warm presence settle beside you, and you fought to hold in your sigh.

You needed peace, but the universe seemed reluctant to give you that.

You wouldn’t allow her to ruin this place for you. Not when it held so many memories.

She let you stay quiet for a long moment, before gently bumping your shoulder. “Hey,”

You were reluctant to open your eyes, but you did, carefully rolling over to meet her blue. It was strange that the sand didn’t stick to you like it would in real life.

“Hey,” You smiled stiffly at your blonde soulmate. You were acutely aware of how much your eyes crinkled, how little the edges of your lips moved. You had promised nothing would change, but watching her now, it felt like there was an ocean between you that hadn’t been there before. You felt hyper-aware of every action you made and you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that you were going to ruin it all. Hell, all of camp there had been a disconnect, and you weren’t sure you would ever have the strength to bridge that gap.

Lindsey cleared her throat, her dimples appearing as she compressed her lips and tugged at the Stanford sweatshirt she was wearing. “I guess I’m cold on the airplane,”

Your eyes followed a small hole just above the wrist. The hole you had made 20 minutes after Kelley bought you the shirt on a goalpost.

You hadn’t seen the red material since you left the Thorns for Angel City almost 4 months ago.

Well, that was a lie. You had seen it when you visited Lindsey for her birthday, but you pretended you hadn’t noticed it tucked under the comforter of her bed. She always did love it more than you did.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked down at yourself, trying not to cringe at the faded tank top hanging from your shoulders, spiderman’s face bleached by the sun and salt.

“Yeah. I guess I’m hot,” You mumbled, your finger poking through a large hole in the bottom, one of the main reasons Emily made you throw it out before you had gotten on the plane back to Portland with her. “I’m not sure how any of this works,”

Your parents had never been forthcoming with information about the dreams. It was more than that. Your mother despised the concept of soulmates and the dreams that came with them. You supposed it was understandable. Your parents had split when you were young, your mother choosing the bottle over everything and your father choosing his 19-year-old girlfriend.

You always wondered if her use of alcohol was to suppress the dreams so she didn’t have to see him and deal with the pain and if it actually worked. You wondered if she would have been happier if she hadn't.

You never got the chance to ask. She had never cared enough to let you.

“Emily said sometimes our feelings translate to the dreams,” Lindsey hummed, drawing random patterns in the sand. “Like when Kelley is sad, it rains. Or when she’s missing Kelley it’ll be unbearably hot,”

You nodded, digesting the information. You could understand that logic. Emily always did love physical contact when she was sad, so forcing her soulmate to cuddle with her naked made sense to you, but you weren’t sure it applied ot you and Lindsey.

If anything the discrepancies in how you were dressed would only indicate how much the two of you were on completely different pages. Ice prickled in your veins at the thought, so you banished it.

“I’m not sure,” You said slowly, pinching a bit of smooth sand. “I haven’t really given this whole thing that much thought,”

It was the truth. You had been wholeheartedly consumed with acting like the cold sludge in your stomach didn’t roll every time she looked at you. You were consumed with pretending that you weren’t being numbed from the inside out.

Her head dipped in agreement, as she cupped another handful of sand and slowly let it drip from her palm, forming perfect sandcastles. “I think we’re in your dream this time. I’ve never been here,”

“It’s New Smyrna Beach,” You supplied easily, letting the velvety sand run through your fingers, enjoying how the cool granules contrasted with Lindsey’s burning gaze. “It’s on the east coast of Florida, just south of Saint Augustine,”

Lindsey made a low noise, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Everyone knew you had gone to Florida after the World Cup, but very few actually knew where you had gone. You were incredibly tight-lipped about it, no matter how hard Lindsey pressed.

You were sure that your surroundings, complete with the one person orange tent you had stayed in, weren’t what she had in mind.

“You vacationed there after we got back from France,” She said finally, and you had to fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the full body shiver from rocking through you.

You wouldn’t necessarily call the months you had spent as a beach bum a vacation. It had been a necessary evil. An escape.

A way to outrun the emotions that being back in fucking France had brought up. A way to get that coach’s voice out of your head, because scoring twice on the team that represented him just hadn’t been enough to quiet those thoughts. A way to pretend like you and Lindsey hadn’t-

You shook your head. You weren’t supposed to think of the night of the world cup. Of what would have been had Kelley not knocked on your door.

It was probably for the best. You wouldn’t have been able to handle being one of her regrets on top of everything else.

“You never told me what you were doing down here,” She mumbled, seemingly offhandedly, but you knew better. You could tell how invested in the conversation thought the sudden tightness in her back, and the way she was deathgripping the sand.

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Surfing mostly,”

It wasn’t a total lie. You had spent most of your days surrounded by the waves, covered in salt water and sand. It was easy not to think when you were in the surf.

“You wouldn’t answer anyone's calls,” Lindsey pushed further.

You tried not to flinch at the distinct wobble in her voice. It made the sludge in your chest slosh and the ice crystals in your veins to grow. You never wanted to hurt her.

You waved your hand towards the north end of the beach, masking your wince. “I threw my phone off a pier,”

“But why?”

Her hand caught your arm, forcing you to look at her. Her blue eyes burned. They reminded you of how they looked the night you told her what the coaching staff at PSG was doing to you. They rendered you naked and exposed. They pleaded with your very soul.

But you couldn't tell her. She had asked you to be normal. She asked that nothing change.

It was more important to you to keep your promise.

“I just,” You averted your eyes, searching the lapping sea for the answer. To tell her without telling her. “I needed a break. It was too hard,”

You wanted her to acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. You wanted her to admit that it wasn’t just a passing moment brought on by the excitement of winning the world cup. You desperately wanted her to admit that the two of you had been soulmates long before you shared your first dream.

It was selfish, you knew that, to expect that of her, but you craved it.

It had been too hard for you to stay around her when she wasn’t going to do any of those things.

“You’ve never shut me out like that before,” Lindsey said desperately. “Why couldn’t you have taken a break in Portland,” You swore an unspoken “with me” belonged out the end of the sentence.

You shrugged. She wasn’t at a place where she would understand.

“My brother lives in Miami,” You explained softly, your tooth catching your top lip as you tried to string together the right words. “I thought that maybe I’d be able to… I don’t know… understand him more if I was down here,”

It was easier to throw blame on him, to hide behind your family problems to avoid everything. Lindsey could understand those.

“Did it help?” She asked earnestly, and it made your chest ache. She cared just not in the way you so desperately wanted her to.

“No.” You snorted. “He’s as much of an ass as he always was but the waves, the sun, and the sand were good for me,”

She nodded, elbowing your upper arm. “You did have one hell of a tan after you came back,”

“Can’t get that in Portland,” You chuckled.

“Ty says Greece is the best place to get a tan,”

It was like a pin in the sudden balloon that had filled your chest.

You sucked in a shallow breath, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt. Trying to pretend like his very name didn’t send a numb wave through you and have your mothers cackling laugh resounding in your head.

Your soulmate had chosen someone else. You weren’t worthy of her.

“Greece is ok,” You shrugged, dragging your fingers through the sand, and picking up a handful. “This beach is less crowded. It kinda grew on me.”

You flipped your hand on its side, letting the sand slide through, landing in a perfectly imperfect tower shape. You tried not to think about how much it represented you. How things seemed to fall into place, and out of place all at the same time.

“I’ll have to suggest it to him,” She hummed, completely unaware of your inner war.

“Yeah,” You muttered, breathing out through your nose, willing yourself to just wake up.

You forced yourself to watch the sand as it trickled through your fingers, begging whoever would listen in your head to just let you open your eyes.

You didn’t want to share this place with anyone besides Lindsey.

Especially not the person who she had chosen over you. The person who would always be more worthy than you.

*****

You had known that you weren’t going to fool Christen or Tobin. Both women just knew you too well.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t send your usual check in text after you landed- though you would argue it was because you passed out from exhaustion later. Maybe it was because you weren’t even sure how to put what had happened into words. Every time you tried, they got stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even look yourself in the eyes in your bathroom mirror and say that Lindsey was your soulmate and you were ok with her not wanting you. (not that you spent an hour trying).

But you should have known that by not sending the little text, it would tip them off more than they already were.

It was something so small, but so fundamental in your relationship with them. It started while you, Lindsey and Tobin were still at PSG. It was a way for her to help you stop the things that were happening, and it included Christen shortly after Tobin had rescued you and Lindsey.

The curly hair forward had taken to you immediately, and vice versa. So much so that the team teased she was your team mom. But your relationship was so much deeper. You went to her with your worry and for advice when you didn’t know how to navigate a situation, and she cared for you in a way that your own family never had.

You always texted her because you didn’t want her to worry.

Except this time you hadn’t.

You had half expected her to show up at your apartment the next morning before practice, a cup of coffee in hand, but all that had been waiting for you was a text, hoping you had gotten back to your studio apartment safely.

You were grateful that she didn’t. It gave you time to get a handle on the numbness that did everything in its power to consume you. To get a handle on the slowly dying tissue around the sludge in your chest.

You weren’t surprised Christen was waiting for you, leaning against the front of her car when you pulled up to the practice field, but she didn’t pounce on you the second you got out of the car.

She let you get out and grab your bag from the front seat, waiting until you were nearly at her car before she pushed off the hood. She paused, gently grasping your shoulders tightly for a long moment, before pulling you into a tight hug.

The hug you so desperately needed.

It fought against the cool numbness that seemed content to settle in your veins.

“Hey kid,” She hummed into your hair, squeezing you tightly.

You leaned into her comfort, burying your head into her neck and hugging her back just as tightly. “Hey,”

Her hands rubbed up and down your back, letting you cling to her for several long minutes, before very slowly pulling away. She held you at arms length, again searching you for something.

“You feeling alright?” Her voice was soft, gently, the voice she only used when she was worried. The voice she had used the first time you stepped into Emily’s apartment after Florida.

“Yeah,” You nodded, smiling tightly up at her. “Just tired. All this flying around the country takes it out of a person,”

Her shoulders relaxed a bit at your half-hearted attempt at a joke.

“I’m sure it had nothing at all to do with the shows you put on in Columbus and Chester,” she chuckled, letting you go so the two of you could head towards the practice field.

“And yet Vlatko is still up my ass like a suppository,” You grumbled, beginning to walk towards the training field.“I think he told me about the U20’s coming to take my sport more times than he talked about tactics,”

“What else happened at camp?”

She tried to ask the question casually, but you knew it was anything but. You wondered how much Emily had told her.

You shrugged. “The usual,”

“Really?”Christen asked incredulously. “That’s why Emily was sending texts last night to make sure we checked on you?”

Usually, your first descriptors were of your friends, followed by a story about whatever shenanigans you all had gotten up to. The only time you hadn’t was the camp right after the World Cup. The only time Emily had texted them in warning was right after the World Cup too.

You couldn’t help the low “traitor” that left your lips.

“What Emily does is her prerogative,” You grumbled back, pulling your bag more tightly to your shoulder. “And I turned my phone off. I passed out when I got home, and the buzzing kept waking me up,”

Her head tilted to the side. Her and Tobin had only texted you once each.

“What happened in the groupchat?” She paused, her fingers closing around your wrist and pulling you to a stop.

You shrugged, finding a pebble under your sneaker more interesting than Christen’s concerned eyes.

You never wanted her to worry. It made the pit in your stomach bubble. Another reason you would never be worthy of a soulmate.

“Come on,” She pressed, her other hand catching your chin and gently forcing you to look up. “What’s happening?”

You didn’t miss the double meaning to her words. You rarely did.

“I’m not sure,” You sighed, only telling a half-truth. “I don’t find a point in keeping up with Lindsey and Mal and their boyfriend drama,”

You couldn’t help the bitterness that leaked into your voice. It hurt every time she mentioned him in the chat, like she was twisting the dagger in your chest just a little more. Like she was reminding you how much better for her he was.

Plus the never ending text chain from your brother made you flinch every time you opened your Lock Screen.

Christen’s eyes studied you for a long minute, before she nodded once. You knew she wasn’t fooled.

You were afraid if she pressed harder you would crumble. You were thankful she let go of your chin and allowed you to head back towards the field.

You had no doubt she would be watching you.

****

Christen hadn’t needed you to forget to send her your normal made it home safe text to know something was wrong. She also hadn’t needed Emily’s heads up.

She had known something was off before you went to camp, and now, well it was painfully obvious to her that things were getting worse instead of better. There was an odd tension that coated your every movement. A strange hesitance where she had never seen you hesitate before.

But she knew better than to confront you with it, that would only make you slip further back into the shell you had built long ago to protect yourself. It would only make you hide your pain more in some convoluted attempt to protect whoever. It would only make you run.

She waited and watched and worried her bottom lip as you fumbled your way through warmups.

It wasn’t that you were playing sloppy. It was that your head just didn't seem in it. You weren’t having fun and it was painfully obvious.

You didn’t have your characteristic easy smile as drills started. Instead your face was etched with worry lines and stoicism that Christen had only seen from you during the tail end of your time in France.

“Jesus Christ,” You grumbled as Simone again drove the defenders the wrong way, forcing the little pocket you had found yourself in to close, and cutting off the shot you were trying to set up.

Christen raised her eyebrow at you, passing you a water as you hit the sidelines.

You were usually pretty good with the young players, offering advice and rarely snapping when they made mistakes. You liked to teach and you knew people didn’t learn when you yelled at them.

“They don’t know how to split the fucking defenders and they keep driving everyone towards me,” you explained, gesturing towards the two other forwards Freya had paired you with. “I’ve told them 3 times that the back line will continue to collapse the pockets if they don’t keep their spacing,”

“They’re young,” Christen supplied easily, her eyes tracing your features, noting how much more prominent the dark circles under your eyes were in the streaming sunlight.

“But they don’t know how to fucking listen,” You huffed, spraying more water into your mouth. “At least Emily and Rose pay attention when I talk,”

“You, Emily, Rose, and Lindsey have more practice,” She said pointedly, noting the omission of the blond midfielder in your sentence. “They’ve had time to gel with you. The new kids will get it, it’ll just take some time and patience,”

You rolled your eyes in time with your shoulders, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at the mere mention of Lindsey’s name. You didn’t have the right to feel the feelings curling uncomfortably in your chest. “We don’t have time, and I’m running out of patience,”

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. While you weren’t one of the most patient people on the planet, you always showed patients with the young ones. You showed them the same courtesy that you wished someone had shown you.

“I just want to play, and it’s like they’re not even on my team,” You muttered, earning an even deeper frown.

She wondered how deep it went. How much it related to whatever happened at camp and not the young LA team.

“Listen to me,” Christen said gently, grabbing your shoulders, trying to catch your eyes. “We are on your team. What’s going on?”

You closed your eyes, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It’s not fucking acceptible. I had 18 shots on goal in the game against Uzbekistan, I only scored 5 a piece. I can’t fucking link up with them. It just…”

You paused, the words seemingly getting stuck in your throat, and you waved your hand helplessly.

“You’re under a lot of pressure,” She supplied easily, grabbing your hand and squeezing 3 times. A silent I Love You, but it didn’t loosen the knot in your chest.

“I was fucking distracted. It’s not acceptable,” You huffed, running another hand through your already tousled hair. It was hard to focus when all you saw every time you closed your eyes was a mix of blue and blonde. It was hard to focus when all you could do was dissect every interaction you had out of fear you were too close or not close enough. You didn’t know how to be without Lindsey, but you couldn’t act like she wanted you to. “I need-“

“To relax,” Christen cut you off gently, her eyes searching you for a clue at what was bothering you, for a peek inside your head, for a reason you were so tense. “You need to relax,”

You blew out a long breath. You had always played your best when you were relaxed, dancing in the locker room with your friends before a game. It was hard when you were struggling to even call your best friend your friend anymore.

“What’s got you so wound?” She asked you, worry evident in her tone. “What’s going on in that head of yours,”

Things didn’t usually turn out well when you internalized your emotions. You buried your feelings until they boiled over, and your favorite target for that pain was yourself. The scars on your legs and back were proof of that.

“I just-,” You sighed, shaking your head and chewing your lip, glancing towards your teammates (none of which had earned your unyielding trust). “It’s complicated,”

Christen sighed, glancing towards the team behind you. She understood your hesitancy to talk in front of them. You were hesitant enough when no one was watching.

“How about you come over for dinner, I’ll have Tobin make your favorite and we can chat and relax over some wine?” The striker offered you gently, squeezing your arm.

“Yeah,” You sighed, leaning into the hand, taking any support you could get. “Dinner would be nice,”

****

As it turned out, dinner was nice. Tobin made you Mac and cheese and Christen poured you a too expensive glass of wine, and you couldn’t help but relax as they chatted about their latest re-inc project.

It was nice to let them distract you, even if it felt a bit like you were under a microscope. They were just so good at reading you.

But no one had mentioned what they saw yet. No one had mentioned how often your phone buzzed, or how you sunk a bit anytime they ventured towards the topic of the team.

You blew out a long breath, taking a short sip of your wine, resting your elbows on the railing of Tobin’s balcony.

The Los Angeles skyline twinkled below you, nearly as good as Portland, but not quite.

At least it didn’t make your chest ache like you knew the Koin Center and Wells Fargo building would.

You couldn’t look at them without thinking of her. Your life was so intertwined with hers that you feared it would be like that anywhere you went.

But that was your problem. Not Lindsey’s.

You sighed, pulling another long sip of your wine as the glass door slid open behind and a familiar presence settled beside you.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“Thanks for dinner,” You mumbled, swirling your wine around your glass, wishing it was something stronger instead. “Mama Heath’s Mac and cheese is always the best,”

“No problem,” Tobin shrugged, and it was easy. Familiar. “I’ll have to tell her you think so,”

“Sorry, I’m not great company,” You muttered, sipping your glass.

You felt Tobin shrug. “We just want you to know we’re here for you,”

You nodded. You did know that they were there for you. They had always been there for you. Tobin had helped you in France, acting as a shield between you and the coaching staff. She had worked with Emily to find you after France and remind you that it wasn’t soccer that you hated. Christen had been the one to orchestrate your trade to LA after things got too weird for you in Portland.

They had always been there to help you pick up the pieces of yourself and work through your emotions. They were the family you never had.

But they were Lindsey’s family too.

You didn’t want them to turn on her because of you, but you felt like you had to tell someone what was happening. Like finally saying it out loud would quell the chilling acid in your chest.

And if anyone would understand it was Tobin.

“I met my soulmate,” you admitted softly, sipping the last bit of wine out of your glass.

“I would congratulate you, but I’m sensing a but,” She breathed out, and you felt her eyes in the side of your face.

Worried and not judgemental.

Your lips tilted up at the answer. “She doesn’t want to be my soulmate,”

“Did she tell you that?” Tobin pressed, gently taking the glass from your hand.

It was only then that you realized how tightly you clutched the fragile edge.

“She has a boyfriend, and she loves him. She’s made it incredibly clear,” You couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of your voice, a look at the gaping wound in your chest, oozing every time you so much as thought about it.

“Damn,” Tobin sighed, placing both of your glasses on the balcony table and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Is she someone we know?”

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger playing with a crack in the balcony’s handrail, debating whether or not you were going to tell her more. Debating if you would risk them turning on Lindsey. “I get to see her all the time,”

“That sucks,” She agreed.

You hummed.

It did suck. Really sucked.

What sucked worse was that you had agreed to be her friend afterward. They always said it was better to have your soulmate in some capacity than none, but God did it fucking hurt. It was like she had to prove how much better her boyfriend was than you, and you hated the feeling in the pit of your stomach when she showed that she was right.

You should be able to be an adult about this.

But you just…. Couldn’t.

You let the silence linger between you, feeling more comfortable than you had in weeks in Tobin’s presence.

If anyone understood, she did. You knew that.

“Christen was dating someone when you dreamt with her for the first time, wasn’t she?” You asked softly, keeping your eyes on the Las Angeles skyline, and trying to ignore her sharp intake of breath.

Tobin swallowed hard, squeezing your shoulder, seemingly trying to gain the strength to answer you.

“She was,” She admitted, and you heard the strain in her voice.

You blinked at her honesty, finally looking up at her thoughtful expression. “How did you work through that?”

“We were in college. We were rivals more than anything else,” She explained, grimacing slightly at what you assumed was embarrassment or pain at the memory. “It changed after we got to go to camp together. We were drawn together like magnets, and at some point, she wasn’t dating him anymore and I was available so it just kind of happened,”

You nodded, your lips forming a thin line, your heart sinking just a bit.

Lindsey knew you and had decided she didn’t want to be your soulmate. You were friends. She knew you and had decided that you weren’t good enough.

“Does it ever go away?” The question was soft, and vulnerable as it left your lips.

“The weight in your stomach?” Tobin asked you gently. You nodded once and she squinted, taking a long second to find the answer. “Mine didn’t leave until we were together for a while,”

“Did she feel it too?” You asked.

It was the question you wanted to know since you had the dream. Did she feel the same sludge in her chest that you did? Was she in the same pain you were? Was she avoiding sleep too?

“I don’t think that’s a me question,” Tobin said slowly, and you felt yourself deflate just a bit. “It’s not something Chris and I talk about a lot, but I know that we were both hurting in different ways,”

“I think it would be easier if she didn’t want to be friends,” You admitted. It made you feel guilty that part of you wished you didn't know Lindsey. That you didn’t share the history you did. “At least then I wouldn’t have to hear about him,”

You missed Tobins furrowed eyes as she tried to figure out exactly who it was. She knew better than to ask, that would only cause you to pull away.

“I felt that way too, but I think the silence was worse in the end,” She answered after a long second.

You blinked up at her, pulling out of her embrace just far enough to see her expression. “How did you deal with it?”

She chuckled darkly. “I didn’t,”

You could understand why someone wouldn't. You didn’t want to deal with it either, but it felt like you were being forced to.

“I cut her off completely, which wasn’t a problem until we were on the same team,” Tobin continued, shaking her head.

You nodded, understanding the feeling. If only it were that simple. Lindsey was competitive and stubborn, and you knew she wouldn’t let you cut her off. Not after you already agreed that nothing would be different.

Tobin squeezed your shoulder as if could feel your pain.

“Just tell her how you feel,” She suggested gently, “sometimes all it takes is a conversation,”

“It’s Lindsey,” You snorted, shaking your head. “She already knows how I feel,”

There was an unspoken- and she still didn’t want me- that hung in the air.

You barely heard Tobin’s “Oh,” but you felt her squeeze you even tighter.

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed miserably.

“I mean, I’m not surprised you two are soulmates,” Tobin said, her chin resting on top of your head. “You’ve been pining after each other forever,”

You chuckled bitterly. You had been tied at the hip since you were 17, dancing the line between friends and something more, crossing that line more times than you’d like to admit. “Except now she has a boyfriend, and she doesn’t want things to change between us,”

“Except things have changed,” Tobin supplied, holding you closer.

“I promised her they wouldn’t,” You mumbled.

Tobin blew out a long breath. “That’s tough kid,”

And you wondered if that was the crux of your pain. Would it feel different if you hadn’t said yes? Would it hurt less?

A long silence stretched between you, comforting in a way that words wouldn’t have been, and you glanced back through the door to see Christen working too hard on drying a plate.

“Just,” Tobin said slowly, shaking her head as if she knew something you didn’t. “Just tell her how you feel, and give her some time. She’ll come around,”

You hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. You doubted she would ever see you for more than her friend. You doubted she would ever deem you worthy enough to be her soulmate.

“Do you think Christen is done with the dishes? Or is she waiting for your signal?” You asked instead of arguing with her. Arguing wouldn’t do you any good.

You appreciated their subtlety, but you knew the striker had to be stalling.

Tobin shrugged, unfazed at getting caught. “She knows it’s easier for you to talk to me, but she’s worried too. Especially about the way your phone has been blowing up,”

You cringed. You were hoping that they wouldn’t bring it up, despite how often it had interrupted your dinner. “People think if they harass me, I’ll be more likely to answer and say yes,”

Tobin let out a low snort. “They obviously don’t know you’re more inclined to destroy it than answer,”

“At least I didn’t throw it off a pier this time,” You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to talk about your phone, or your brother’s inability to take a fucking hint. You knew Tobin would be less inclined to let you avoid explanation.

She squeezed your shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about whatever, but Just know Chris and I are here for you, no matter what,”

You gulped but nodded nonetheless.

“Are you going to tell her?”

The question was soft, hesitant, and showed the vulnerability you were reluctant to ever express.

“You know we don’t keep secrets from each other,” Tobin reminded you gently.

You swallowed again. You knew transparency was important to them. That they never kept secrets from each other. “I just don’t want her to lose you guys,”

Tobin sighed heavily.

It was just like you to try to help Lindsey even if it killed you, to ensure that she would be ok despite how much she had already hurt you.

“Neither of you will lose us,” She said finally, pulling you tighter to her. “But I won’t let her mistreat you either,”

You hummed, burying your face in her neck, accepting the comfort it was clear you needed.

“Come on kid. Chris got chocolate cake because she knows it’s your favorite,” Tobin said, patting your back. “We can have a movie night and you can crash here if you want,”

You hummed, nodding into her neck. “That would be nice,”

You knew she was asking for her own peace of mind. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you would spiral if they let you.

And you would let yourself be protected.

*****

You would never get used to the feeling of waking up in a shared dream. The weird way the colors blended, and you were overcome with the most potent form of dejavu you had ever encountered.

The world blurred into focus. Like you were spinning too fast and then suddenly came to a stop. Like you were seeing the world upside down and suddenly it was right side up.

It made you want to vomit, despite the aching slush being absent from your stomach.

It killed you as your eyes opened, because everything felt right, and you knew that it was anything but. It was only a matter of time before you were reminded of how unworthy of your soulmate you were.

You sighed, closing your fingers around the soft grass underneath you. The bed that was softer than your real childhood bed. The safe space that had always welcomed you until you moved to france.

You let out a low breath, loathe to sit up and actually face the woman you knew was beside you.

This place was too sacred for you to desecrate. You tried to remember that you were really on Tobin and Christen’s couch, tucked under one of their blankets like you had been for the last 3 weeks. You tried to remember that nothing that happened here would be real.

“How is this grass so soft?”

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter at her voice, hoping that you could make it hurt less if you didn’t look at her.

“Mr. Barns used to water it by hand,” You said softly, remembering the summer days your mother kicked you out of the house at 6 and didn’t let you back in until well past dinner. If she let you back in. “I helped him sometimes in the summer. He would give me lunch,”

She hummed, and you felt her settle down beside you, so your arms were nearly touching. “You don’t talk about your childhood a lot,”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin where her elbow brushed you, and you gulped. “I don’t like to think about it. It wasn’t a normal childhood,”

“Did any of us have a normal childhood?” Lindsey countered, trying to copy what you and her had deemed Tobins wise old lady voice.

It made you shiver. She knew how bad your childhood was. She had heard the stories of the horror stories that haunted you at night.

You cleared your throat, averting your gaze. “I used to sleep out here sometimes. It was easier than going home,”

You ran your hand over the grass as if to prove your point.

“Why am I not surprised you preferred to sleep on a soccer field as a kid,” Lindsey snorted, and you bit your lip to avoid cringing.

She made it sound like you had chosen to sleep on the field. Like your mother hadn’t given you the choice of being locked in a closet or sleeping outside.

“Yeah,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t like to talk about it,”

Lindsey made a noise in the back of her throat, too focused on picking a blade of grass. “How about we talk about the radio silence then,”

You stiffened, your back going rigid. “Everyone’s just lucky I didn’t throw my phone off Tobin’s balcony,”

Lindsey chuckled as though you were being sarcastic (you weren’t). “That many girls have been blowing you up?”

Your head tilted to the side, and your eyebrows furrowed without your consent. You didn’t understand her fascination with your sex life. Not that you had one. Not since France…

“What girls?”

It slipped past your lips before you could think to stop it, confusion clear in your voice.

Lindsey scoffed. “You can’t seriously tell me that you haven’t been hooking up. You haven't answered any of my calls or texts,”

Her voice was almost… possessive. Your frown deepened, and you shook away the thought. There was no way, right? It wouldn’t make sense with how she had her very own boyfriend.

“My brother has been harassing me. I shoved it in my sock drawer to dampen the sound,” You said, your voice softer than you expected it to be.

A byproduct of your inner surprise you told yourself. Definitely not because you needed her to know that there was no one else for you. Definitely not because it made the sludge in your chest suddenly reappear when she mentioned that she thought you were seeing other people.

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. But what out of any of this had been?

“Oh,” Lindsey muttered, her fingers catching the grass and rolling it between her fingers, and you could have sworn you saw her nose crinkle at the mention of him. “What does he want?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, both because you didn’t want to answer the question and because you wished she had been dejected for another reason. You wished she cared enough to be bothered that it wasn’t just her you were ignoring. Instead, she looked relieved.

“I’m not taking his calls,” You answered your voice more horse than you intended it to be, showing more emotions than you wanted to. “He’s an asshole,”

Lindsey paused at your characterization, her shoulders slumping in a way you didn’t quite understand. “Am I an asshole too?”

You could see how she made the jump, but that wasn’t why you were avoiding her. It just hurt too much to hear how wonderful Ty was to her. How he was so much better than you.

Really, it had been Christen's suggestion after a particularly bad day had nearly sent you into a panic attack and you wouldn’t tell her why. It was bad enough that you had spilled your guts to Tobin. They didn’t need to know the pressure your brother was putting on you.

You shook your head. “You’re not trying to guilt trip me into doing things I don’t want to,”

It was technically the truth, though it wasn’t entirely accurate. You didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine, but it was nothing in comparison to your brother’s request. His demand. His inability to take no for an answer.

“What does he want you to do?”

You felt Lindsey’s eyes on the side of your face, and the concern seeping through her words. It nearly caught you off guard. It nearly let your brain slip into the place where you could convince yourself that the thing between you hadn’t changed. That she cared about you in the way you cared about her.

You gulped, finally gaining the courage to look up from the grass and meet her eyes. They were burning blue, just as they had been so many times before. Protective in a way that only Lindsey could be. Loved in a way that you had only felt when you were with her. It sent a shiver down your spine.

It made you feel like she cared. As a friend you reminded yourself.

Only a friend.

“It’s complicated,” You finally settled on the phrase.

“More complicated than Florida?” She fired back like she already had the remark prepared.

You cringed. She probably did. You hated that Florida had become her litmus test for you, even when the situations were entirely unrelated.

Your brother had Ignored you while you were in Florida. The only person you spoke to was Emily when the nurse wouldn’t let you check out of the hospital on your own. That was the only reason anyone knew anything.

You hated that Lindsey couldn’t seem to let it go.

“It’s different,” You hedged carefully, rolling a blade of grass between your fingers. “He’s asking me to forget that they didn’t want me,”

You didn’t think it was fair for him to try to leverage your mother's dying wish against you, even after all of the shit she had done. And you tried not to think about how much Lindsey didn’t want you.

Lindsey frowned, and you could see the wheels turning in her head.

She reached over and caught your hand, oblivious to the shivers it sent through your spine and how even the small touch made goosebumps appear in her wake.

Your head jerked up to meet her blue. “It would be their loss. Not yours,”

You gulped, trying not to focus on how the words felt like she was twisting the knife in your chest just a bit, or how the place where her hand touched your arm felt like it was on fire.

It wasn’t a fair statement. How could it be when she didn't even want you, and she was tied to you? You wanted to ask if it was her loss.

Your shoulders lifted and dropped.

It was the safest response you could muster. One that wouldn’t force her to reinforce how much she didn’t want you. One that would allow you to delude yourself into thinking she cared.

Lindsey sighed.

She had always been good at reading you.

“You promised me nothing would change,” She mumbled, and you shrunk a bit. Her voice was soft, caring, and concerned. It lured you in.

You shook your head. “Things haven’t changed,”

The words felt like acid in your throat. You could hear the thinness in them. The lie.

Everything had changed.

You knew Lindsey heard it too. Her raised eyebrow told you as much.

You sighed, “I’m trying, alright?”

It was too soft. Too vulnerable.

And you watched Lindsey’s face change.

“It shouldn’t be so hard,” She gritted out, and you flinched at the sudden ice in her voice. The edge waiting to slice you open. “Why can’t you just be normal? We’re friends.”

You gulped down the retort on the top of your tongue. The words that would blow everything wide open.

You and Lindsey had always been on the edge of friends. Friends didn’t do the things the two of you did.

“I’m just…-“ You paused, looking down at her hand still on your arm. “I have a lot going on. I’m doing my best,”

You repeated the words that Christen had given you, and you felt Lindsey relax. Her fingers tightened around your forearm.

“Just remember you’re not alone,”

Your head tilted to the side. You knew those words were carefully chosen as well.

“I’ll try,” You sighed, pulling away and willing yourself to wake up. It didn’t hurt so much when you could pretend she didn’t care. When you couldn’t see the concern etched across her features. “I’m trying,”

Her fingers tightened around your arm as the scene faded away like she was trying to keep you there, even as you jerked into consciousness.

You could have sworn she was saying something. A part of you wanted to know what it was, but the larger part of you was grateful that you didn’t.

No matter what it was, it would make everything hurt that much worse. The ache in your chest was already unbearable most days.

You sighed, running your knuckles into the place where your heart throbbed, pushing yourself up off of the couch.

It was worse when she pretended like she cared, even when you knew she didn’t. Not in the way you wanted her to.

You ran a hand through your hair, grabbing a stray ball that way laying around and heading towards the door. Hopefully, some practice would quell the gnawing hole slowly growing in your chest.

All you could do was try.

*******

You thought you understood exhaustion when you were in France. You thought you understood it during your second season when you played every minute you were available in Portland. you thought you understood it at the very end of last camp.

In the 4 months since you had your first shared dream, you realized that there was an entirely new level of weariness and fatigue beyond anything you had ever experienced. It settled deep into your bones, replacing your normal energy with lead. It ate away at your soul, and you feared that when all was said and done there would be nothing of yourself left.

You knew that was the consequence of being rejected by your soulmate, of not being good enough for your soulmate, and of your refusal to sleep. You couldn’t share dreams if you didn’t have them.

You would slowly lose everything that made you yourself.

What was more shocking to you was that your on-field performance hadn’t wavered, despite the wide berth the team gave you when you weren’t on the pitch. It had only gotten better, according to every commentator in the NWSL.

You supposed it made sense, the suffocation of your soul leading to a more cold and calculating performance. Or maybe it was just your pain coming out in aggression toward the unfortunate defenders that you played against.

Either way, you were having the season of your life, and you were hating every single moment of it.

“I’m not going,” You mumbled, as you pulled your shin guards out of your socks, barely looking up at Christen. “You can tell Kelley I got sick or whatever, but I don’t want to deal with it,”

It took effort to look up, and you knew it would just show her how little sleep you were getting despite their insistence that you stay on their couch.

It would also take effort to go to dinner with Kelley and Emily after the game and to pretend like you weren’t slowly disintegrating from the inside out.

“Or you can tell her and Emily yourself,” The striker countered, settling down on the bench next to you, careful not to touch you as you had been particularly sensitive after your last shared dream. “Unless you skip the game, you’re going to see them,”

You cursed under your breath, tossing your guards into your bag with too much force. Why couldn’t things ever be easy? “Freya won’t let me skip the Washington game,”

“Not a chance,” Tobin agreed, settling down on your other side, effectively trapping you between them.

You had been playing too well for your coach to let you sit out without giving a good reason, and trying to explain that you didn’t want to see your friends because your soulmate was your other friend and she had a fucking boyfriend wasn’t something you wanted to do. No matter how nice the coach was.

“Damn it,” You grumbled, leaning back on the wall beside your locker with a thump. It was almost too much for your tired brain to work through.

You had partially forgotten that you would see Kelley and Emily at the game as well as after.

It was once in a season that you got to play Kelley and Emily in LA, so of course, they wanted to hang out after the game. Normally you would be excited to see your best friend and her soulmate, but since your last shared dream with Lindsey, you were dreading it.

Hell, you had been dreading it since you started ignoring your phone.

You loved Emily and Kelley, but they were too perceptive for their own good. They would ask questions you didn’t want to answer and slowly pry the truth from you. Then they would hate Lindsey, and that wasn’t fair to her.

She had been friends with Lindsey longer than she had been friends with you after all.

Or it was possible that they both already knew. That Lindsey had already told them, and they were just waiting for the right opportunity to tell you how much they agreed with her. To confirm what you already knew, that you were unworthy of your soulmate.

You could still feel the tingle of Lindsey’s fingers on your arm, her words “it would be their loss” still lingered in your brain like a bad cough despite them being spoken nearly two weeks ago.

You shivered.

Either way, you couldn’t face them. You couldn’t deal with the possibilities. You couldn’t bear to see Emily’s disappointed gaze. You wouldn’t be able to stand it if you lost her too, despite the way you were pushing her away.

There was a reason you had called her when you were in Florida instead of anyone else. A reason that you had clung to her afterward.

She treated you like you were normal. Despite almost drowning in Florida. Despite her having to check you out of the hospital. Despite you running away in France after you and Lindsey almost-...

“It’ll be fun,” Christen said, nudging your shoulder. “we’ll talk about Bagel and the Spirit drama, and all you have to do is smile and nod,”

“She’ll hate me when she finds out,” you groaned, scrubbing your eyes, your nails digging and scraping at the skin above your eyebrows. You were never good at hiding things from Emily or Kelley for that matter.

You should be able to be reasonable and be Lindsey’s friend. You should be able to respect her wishes. She was right, it shouldn’t be so hard.

But it just hurt so fucking much. It didn’t matter how nice she was about it, every interaction felt like a knife slipping between your ribs and into the soft, vulnerable tissue, twisting unrelentingly, intent on bleeding you out.

Christen caught your hands, carefully pulling them away from your eyes and laying them flat against her thigh. She rubbed soothing circles on the back of your palm. “No one will hate you,”

“You’re not the one who is being malicious,” Tobin added, in a tone that made you believe she 100% thought someone was.

You frowned. Lindsey hadn’t done anything outright yet. Well, anything besides telling you that she loved her boyfriend, and while that hurt you, it wasn’t a direct shot across the bow. It also wasn’t anything deserving of Tobin’s direct ire.

You regretted telling the midfielder-turned-winger about the back-and-forth game Lindsey seemed to enjoy. You regretted telling her how much it hurt you to not understand. To know exactly where you stood, the place you had always stood with Lindsey, in the blurry no man's land between friend and more than friend. A place filled with landmines and barbed wire poised to destroy you at the first misstep.

You had already been cut more times than you’d like to admit.

You pulled your hand out of her grip, running it through your messy curls, serving only to make them more wild. You hadn’t had the energy to style it, but now you were regretting that decision. It would be a bitch to fix later.

You felt Christen and Tobin share a look over your head, communicating without words. You wanted to ask if that was a soulmate thing or just a preath thing because you doubted you would ever be in a place with Lindsey where you would be able to find out on your own.

“Lindsey might not have told them yet,” Christen said gently. You felt her eyes return to the side of your face, and her fingers carefully weaved into your hair beginning to undo the knots. “And we don’t have to tell them either,”

Tobin’s hand found the back of your neck, digging into the knot that always appeared there. You sighed. Their efforts at coercion were rather effective, especially with the three hours of sleep you had gotten (despite their best efforts).

“But what if she did?” You asked, your voice showing more vulnerability than you wanted. “What if she told Emily that I wasn’t keeping my promise? That I wasn’t being a good friend?”

Tobin snorted, shaking her head.

It was difficult for her to wrap her head around how you thought anyone would be upset with you in this situation. How you thought that any of this was your fault.

“Kelley will be upset if any of this hurts Emily,” You said, softer. You knew how protective the older defender was, especially of her soulmate.

It was one of the first things you learned about Kelley. She would murder anyone who hurt Emily.

You were in pain, but you didn’t want to die. Not yet at least.

Not by Kelley’s hand.

“We will deal with Kelley,” Christen reassured you, sharing another look with Tobin. On the off chance that Kelley was upset, all it would take would be to mention the word soulmate and she would back off.

It wasn’t just her soulmate she was protective of.

“I don’t want anyone to fight,” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut yet again, hoping it would help the heaviness in them.

It didn't.

Your phone buzzed obnoxiously in your bag because god forbid you get 30 seconds of peace.

You wished you hadn’t told Lindsey about the calls, even Christen and Tobin hadn’t been able to pry it out of you. You wished you hadn’t used it as your excuse, because it felt like another thing that she could hold over you.

“I just,” You blew out a shaky breath. “I want everything to go back to what it was before I had the stupid, fucking dream,”

At least then you hadn’t had to face the feelings that continually bubbled in your chest. It had been easy to pretend that you didn’t want something more from Lindsey, something she would never give you outside the privacy of shared hotel rooms and fleeting nights in apartments.

It was easy to pretend that her denials hadn’t been slowly unraveling you. That you hadn’t been self-destructing since well before the dream.

“Avoiding sleep to avoid her isn’t helping you,” Christen said softly like she was speaking to a small child. It should have irritated you, but it didn’t. It made warmth bloom in your chest. “And neither is avoiding whoever is constantly calling you,”

“How about we go home, and you can nap,” Tobin suggested, equally as gently, backing off. “And then you can decide if you want to get ‘sick’ after the game when you wake up?”

You nodded, pulling your sweatshirt over your head. Thorns practice was about to begin, so it would be safe.

She wouldn’t be able to follow you, and maybe you would finally get some peace.

Tobin's arm landed heavily on your shoulder as they guided you out of the locker room, and you leaned into her, hoping they would be able to drive the dreams away.

If your soulmate wasn’t going to look out for you, they would.

***** you sucked in a long breath as you blinked into consciousness, shifting awkwardly in your chair.

You frowned. You had never entered one of the dreams sitting, and you idly wondered if the position was due to how you were leaning on Christen’s shoulder as you fell asleep.

You shifted again in the chair, your fingers falling on the engraved trim, your eyes darted to the wood, painted a shiny gold. You dragged your eyes up the white tablecloth, accented with deep red napkins to the Crystal glasses and gold-rimmed plates. Several forks and spoons flanked the plate, glinting in the dim light of the table.

Beyond your plate was a vase, filled to the brim with dark red roses, their color so vivid they looked like they were dripping, bleeding. Much like your heart you supposed.

You shifted again in the chair, straightening your bow tie.

You frowned. You never wore ties.

“What the hell?” You mumbled, your fingers dragging down the satin lapels of the tux you were wearing, towards the shiny red vest that matched the tie.

It was too much. Too fancy. Not at all something you would ever choose for yourself.

“The restaurant had a dress code,”

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lindsey’s piercing blue just beyond the roses, and you lost your breath.

She was stunning.

Her hair shimmered like gold in the low light, pulled to one side, cascading down her shoulder. You fought to keep your eyes from trailing down the plunging neckline of her shiny black dress, focusing instead on the sparkling diamond necklace around her neck. You dragged your eyes up to her red-painted lips and finally met her eyes.

They burned into your soul as she casually sipped her wine like she was trying to read your mind.

“I thought you said dress codes were a no-go,” You muttered, your head tilting to the side. “It’s why you wouldn’t go to the French Laundry with me while we were in New York. You said it was too posh,”

She hummed, sipping her wine slowly, making you wait. “Ty took me out for our anniversary. He wanted to make it nice,”

You swallowed hard, reaching for a glass of water to help your suddenly dry throat.

Of course, she had gone out to fancy dinners with him. Of course, she was dressed up for him. You gulped down the sudden jealousy in your throat.

She was dating him. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous. But the thought of her dressing in something for him made the sludge in your chest roll.

You wondered if you were in the outfit that he had worn to impress her. You wondered if seeing you in it made you feel the way her dress made you feel.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” You asked carefully, placing the water glass back on the table.

It took everything in you to keep your voice calm, level. To pretend.

She hummed. “It was ok. The steak was overpriced and the wine was dry,”

Your nose scrunched. You knew that Lindsey didn’t like the pomp of fancy restaurants. That she preferred tacos and margaritas to 500$ steaks. That she liked light, floral cocktails instead of pretentious wine.

It made you wonder why he didn’t know that.

“Sounds too fancy for me,”

You settled on the comment. It was safe, easy, almost normal.

She snorted. “It was too fancy for me too. Ty picked it,”

You wanted to ask why. If it was their anniversary, shouldn’t he have done something she wanted to do?

You swallowed your question, your comment, smiling pleasantly at her instead. At least you got to be with her like this. “It’s nice he’s being so cool about all of this,”

She paused, her wine glass pressed to her lips, taking too long of a sip before setting it down, swirling the red liquid around the glass. “Yeah,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, noting how her eyes didn’t meet yours and her fingers tapped the rim of the glass.

“You haven’t told him yet,”

It was a statement of fact, incredulous in its delivery, but proven by the way her teeth closed around her bottom red-painted lip.

You didn’t know why you were surprised. Why would she tell him? Keeping it a secret was an entirely Lindsey thing to do.

Still, it made you feel dirty. A secret. Something to be ashamed of.

“Why would I tell him?” Her lips curled around the question dangerously.“Nothing has changed,”

You frowned at that. Everything had changed, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He deserved to know that his girlfriend was seeing another person in her dreams. That you were tied to her for the rest of your life.

“Because I am your soulmate, Lindsey,” You said as though it was obvious, unable to stop it as it slipped past your lips. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

“We are friends,” She gritted out, emphasizing the words. “I have a-,“

“Boyfriend that you love, yes I’ve heard,” You spat back, waving your hand dismissively. It was an old argument, and frankly, you were tired of it. “What are you going to do when he finds his soulmate? I’m not some fucking consolation prize,”

“That’s not. We’re not” She stuttered, her blue eyes wide, but you still couldn’t stop.

“We’re not what Lindsey?” You asked, bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitterness you hadn’t shown her before. “We’ve been dancing around this since we were 16. We’ve kissed more times than I can count. We would have fucked again after the World Cup if Kelley hadn’t knocked on the fucking door, or did you forget that part of our relationship,”

She shook her head, shoving herself up from the table, but you followed her.

You knew you were pushing her, but you couldn’t be ignored. You felt like a volcano erupting, the words bubbling out of you like lava. “How long have you known I was in love with you? How long have you used that to get me to bend to your will? Friends don’t do the things that we do!”

You watched her face morph from shock to anger. Her features hardened before your eyes.

You had pushed too far.

“Look, it’s not my fault that you’ve incorporated me into some gay fantasy of yours. We’re friends,” She hissed and you recoiled like you had been slapped.

The words felt like venom, her voice the needle injecting it straight into your veins.

“What?”

It was the only word you could think of as your brain tried to process what she was saying. As she used the words your mother had used against you when she kicked you out.

“It’s your pattern,” She said, her lips curling. “You did it with Tobin in France. You did it with Emily in Portland. I’m just the next poor soul on your list,”

“No Sonnett is my friend-“ you stumbled over your words, trying to order your thoughts, but she cut you off with a vicious smirk. “And you and her were fucking until she found Kelley,”

Your eyebrows furrowed. you had never slept with Emily. She had been hung up on Kelley just like you we stuck in Lindsey. The only difference was that her and Kelley hadn’t blurred the line like you and Lindsey did. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“She was the one who found you in Florida. You shared her one-bedroom apartment, and you followed Tobin around like a lost puppy in France,”

“Tobin helped me stop our coach from molesting both of us Lindsey,” You ground out, your voice shaking. “Tobin made sure he didn’t fucking kill me with the extra training sessions and lack of food. If anything, she was the one following me around.”

Your chest heaved, but you weren’t finished. “Emily only knows about Florida because they wouldn’t let me check out of the hospital after I went surfing drunk. She didn’t want me to be alone while I was dealing with the fallout of You. We have never slept together,”

You couldn’t help the way you sneered around the word. You couldn’t help how your fist clenched in the table cloth, shifting the too-expensive dining set.

You wanted her to acknowledge you.

“That’s not the point,” She bit back.

“Then what is?” You asked, your hand hitting the table, all of your feelings finally pouring out. “I fucking love you. And I thought that you felt the same. We were back in that godforsaken city and you were kissing me. We would have-“ You shook your head, your voice turning earnest. “It was almost perfect,”

Silence hung between you, punctuated only by your heavy breathing.

Her lips pressed tightly together, and you thought maybe you had gotten through to her. But something flashed in her eyes and her features hardened. She picked up her wine glass and swirled the red liquid around.

“I am not gay,” She grit the words out, looking away from you as if she didn’t care about the damage she would inflict and sipping her glass. “I don’t love you, and it’s not my fault that you caught feelings,”

You let the words sink in. Let them permeate your chest like acid, and erode the final bit of your aching heart. A cool numbness was already spreading out from the wound like you had been shot.

You knew it was too good to be true during the World Cup. That her pursuit of you, her willingness to be around the team with you was nothing more than a fling. A whim caused by the bubble and excitement.

You cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and hoped to wake up so you could release your emotions in peace. “I can’t keep my promise,”

******

Lindsey jolted awake, her eyes snapping open, all of her nerves on edge like she had been dumped in ice water. Her breathing came in short pants as she sat up, her hand pressing into her eyes.

She had never heard of people being so… jarred by the dreams they shared with their soulmates. She had never heard of them ending so abruptly.

Then again, most people didn’t try to deny their soulmate.

She let out a breath, grinding her palms into her eyes further, trying to un-sear your blank expression from her mind.

She knew that look well. You used it every time you had to deal with your family or your PSG coach. It was your way of shielding yourself. Of pulling away so nothing could hurt you.

She had never had that look directed at her, and it made her soul ache.

She had never planned on hurting you, it had just kind of… happened.

The relief that had flooded through her the moment she saw you for the first time in her dreams was indescribable. It was like the moment your goalie makes a save in a PK shootout. No. It was more. It was the moment you score after the save.

But then she remembered. She could feel her parents' words etched into her very existence.

She was meant to grow up and find the man of her dreams. Her knight in shining armor.

Her mother had filled her head from the time she was small with stories of princes sweeping her off her feet. Her father had told her about the strapping young man who would make all of her dreams come true one day. The young man who she would share everything with, including her sleep.

And both of her parents dismissed her queries about what would happen if her soulmate wasn’t a man. They had waved away her questions with easy quotes from the Bible and their pastor, and they had drilled into her head that all of her “teenage feelings” were just a phase.

She was convinced she would outgrow them, but then. Well, then she met you.

And you made her question everything.

It wasn’t just that you were smart and funny and gorgeous. It was how kind your heart was. How you would give up the world to make her smile on a bad day. It was how your tough exterior had cracked just for her.

It made butterflies erupt in her chest and tingles followed everywhere you touched. You made her feel warm and seen and… she couldn’t help but give in to those feelings.

At first, it was in small ways, sharing your bed in France (something that brought you both immense comfort), stealing small kisses and light touches in the underbelly of stadiums. Little things that had grown into more, until the lines were so blurred she didn’t know where you stopped and she began.

All that you had been missing was a label, so she conveniently picked one that didn’t make her afraid. One her parents wouldn’t question.

You were her friend and the secret benefits attached never needed to be mentioned.

She pushed her feelings for you away under the ruse of platonicity.

It was easy. It was doable.

Until the two of you were roomed together in the bubble, trapped in a country that gave the both of you nightmares.

She finally let herself give in to the feelings in her chest. She let her touches linger, no matter who could see. She let herself joke and enjoy your bright smiles in front of her friends. She let herself let go of the fear that being caught staring and watching still evoked.

You looked so kissable in the locker room after the final, bragging about your game-winning goal, your dimples poking out. You looked so kissable in your stupid goggles, covered in champagne. And she…

Lindsey just couldn’t help herself.

She hadn’t thought twice about pulling you into a spare equipment closet. She hadn’t thought twice about the way your lips pressed together or the heat that built between you in seconds. She hadn’t thought about her roving hands and how good you felt until…

If Kelley hadn’t knocked on the door, there was no telling how far the two of you would have gone.

As you broke apart, staring at her like she hung the moon and the stars and… reality finally hit her. She couldn’t have you and keep her family. The lines were too blurred and before she could think, words were falling from her lips, matching your falling expression. she was kicking you out and you looked...hurt was too simple of a word to describe it.

That was where her options had ended.

You disappeared into the night, only reappearing to get on the plane, attend a parade, and then you were gone again.

It only reinforced the lessons her parents had taught her. She would find a reliable man to support her. A man who would care for her and follow her. A man who would help her give her parents grandchildren.

And she had.

She sighed heavily, glancing to her left where he lay, sound asleep.

He was good. He listened but never pushed. He held her when she cried, even when he didn’t know why. He who helped her put her broken pieces back together.

But he wasn’t you.

And she knew that by choosing him and protecting herself she was hurting you. An unintentional casualty she had thought of it as. Except nothing about that dream had been unintentional.

“Fuck,”

She dragged her hand through her hair, her elbow barely brushing him. He still jolted awake.

“Wha, babe?” Ty asked, his voice husky as she lurched to a sitting position. “You alright?”

She hated that her brain instantly compared you to him. How your voice sounded so much sexier than his. How you were a deeper sleeper, and didn’t jump when you woke up. How you would have wrapped her in your arms before asking questions?

She shook her head, leaning into his side, telling him that she wanted to be held. “Yeah, bad dream,”

It took him a second to catch on and wrap a loose arm around her. “I’m here,” He placed a very sweet kiss on her hairline.

She let out a shuddering breath. It was too close to something you would do. “I know,”

He was there for now, but she couldn’t stop your words from echoing in her head.

They had talked about what they would do when they found their soulmates, how they would prefer to be with each other rather than with some random person.

But you weren’t a random person.

How was she supposed to tell this man? This kind man, who had picked up the pieces her fear had created. that she had found her soulmate and she wanted to go back on every promise she had ever made?

Especially when you weren’t going to keep your promise to her.

*****

As it turned out, 48 hours with little more than a power nap did wonders on your psyche.

You were nearing the punch-drunk stage of exhaustion before you even stepped onto the pitch. And dealing with Emily and Kelley trying to stop you for 98 minutes had sapped every last bit of fake energy you had.

Winning the game helped, but by the time Christen and Tobin were loading you in the car for dinner, you were dead on your feet. And the anxiety about what Lindsey had or had not said to Emily had you on edge as you entered the restaurant.

The too-fancy restaurant, with white table cloths, red rose centerpieces, and gold-rimmed plates.

You bit your lip as you were seated, trying to force the dream from your mind.

But as it turned out, Lindsey hadn’t told Emily anything, and that made things so much more difficult.

It made Emily and Kelley more curious, and more focused on your every move. You could feel their eyes tracing your every movement, glued to the way Tobin pulled out your chair and Christen sent you a meaningful look when she passed you the menu.

You knew Emily wanted an explanation for why you had been ignoring her, but you weren’t sure how to put it into words. So you avoided it.

You avoided making eye contact or engaging in conversation and focused too hard on the menu.

“Sanchez is super stoked for the next few camps,” Kelley said, nodding her head toward you. “She thinks she can pull out some crazy services with our ducky,”

You hummed, peeking up at her from behind your menu, using it as a shield.

Considering how cracked and broken your chest felt, you doubted you would be making many connections at camp. You doubted you would be able to function in the same proximity as Lindsey, much less focus on soccer.

You didn’t think you would be able to get out of your head enough to do it.

“She seems scrappy,” You mumbled, your eyes barely flickering towards Emily, trying to avoid the place setting.

It had the sludge sloshing in your stomach. You couldn’t help how you idly scratched at the point right above your heart.

It’s not my fault you’ve incorporated me into some gay fantasy. It’s your MO.

You cleared your throat, chasing her voice from your head. “If she can keep up, it’ll be fun to see how we link,”

“She’s deadly when she connects with Trin,” Kelley said, sending a look between you and Emily. “I’m sure you two will find your groove too,”

You tried to ignore their secret conversation. The evidence that it wasn’t the first time you were the subject.

“It’s not surprising her and Trin are soulmates really,” Emily added, sipping her glass of red wine.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes zeroed in on it. The way the liquid in the glass pressed to red lips had your heart pounding in your chest.

It was stupid for you to get so worked up over a glass of wine. For the mere mention of soulmates to send you over the edge, but it did.

“Ali and JJ had their hands full trying to keep track of them,” Trying to hide the concerned look she sent your way.

You hadn’t even realized your hand was clutching your chest, clawing at your cracked heart.

Tobin's arm landed heavily on your shoulder, an innocuous move that was meant to ground you. To keep you in the present. “I could tell Trinity was getting frustrated, especially with Girma,”

“She's young,” Kelley nodded. “Once she matures a bit she’s going to be as much of a force as Alex and you three,”

“Are you ok?” Emily asked before anyone could respond, reaching across the table to lay her hand over yours. “You look like you’re gonna be sick,”

You pulled away like you had been burned. The action was too familiar. It was too close.

“I’m good, I’ve just gotta go to the bathroom,” You said too quickly, pushing yourself away from the table. “I’ll be back,”

You didn’t give anyone a chance to reply before you bolted from the table, hanging a right (nearly missing a very startled waiter) and crashing into the bathroom door like it was a Canadian defender.

You stumbled into the sink, clutching the sink like it was a lifeline, praying that the cool granite countertop could calm the wave crashing through your chest. The unrelenting tsunami unleashed by Lindsey’s words.

It was pathetic. You were pathetic.

Some gold-ringed plates and red wine had sent you over the fucking edge. The mention of soulmates shouldn’t send your chest tight, but it did.

You should be able to have a normal conversation with your friends. You shouldn’t fear that the simple mention of something would make you hurt so badly.

It was a you problem. They shouldn’t suffer for it.

You sucked in a short, wheezy breath, your fingers wrapping in your shirt to pull your collar down.

Pathetic. The voice in your head hissed. No wonder she doesn’t want you.

Your other hand pressed harder into the counter, dipping your head towards the metal faucet. You almost wished you had turned it on.

“You have to breathe,” Emily’s voice suddenly said, very close to your ear. Her arms wrapped carefully around your stomach, one hand catching your own. “Come on, match my breathing ducky,”

You leaned back into her body, feeling her heartbeat against your back with each exaggerated breath she took for your benefit.

It burned to try and match her, matching the ever-present ache that had been there since Lindsey rejected you. The sludge in your stomach expanded and contracted with each breath you tried to take.

You hadn’t felt this way since the night of the World Cup. Since Kelley knocked on the door and Lindsey had told you to get out. Since she told you you were nothing.

“I know it hurts, but you need to breathe,” Emily said, pulling you back towards her so she was hugging you from behind.

You nodded, your lips pressing together tightly, your eyes slipping closed as you tried to focus on her. On the way, her arms felt around you. The way each breath hit your ear and moved against you.

“Come on, breathe in” She hummed, sucking in a deep breath and waiting for you to follow her. You counted to 8 in your head, holding it for 4 before releasing it for 6. And repeating it.

With each iteration, your relaxed father back into Emily, until most of your weight was leaning against her.

She held you for a long moment, letting you gather yourself, and keeping a hand on your back as you pulled away.

“Good?” She asked gently.

“Yeah, good,” You nodded, your voice horse as you leaned towards the faucet, running cool water over your face before turning to face her. “Thanks,”

“Anytime,” She said, watching you carefully, like you were a wounded animal she was afraid to back you into a corner, holding out a paper towel so you could dry your face. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

You shrugged. It had been happening to you a lot lately, the feeling that your chest was going to collapse on itself. Between Lindsey and the never-ending stream of calls from your brother, you knew they would only get that much worse.

“You haven’t had a panic attack since France,” She continued, her voice ticking up and you knew that she wanted more of an explanation.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about France anymore, or how Emily had found you in the same position after Lindsey kicked you out. How she had held you together for the night while the rest of the team celebrated.

The only difference was that you couldn’t escape this time. There wasn’t a time limit for you to paint a smile on your face and pretend to be fine.

“I’m fine,” You croaked, avoiding her eyes.

“You’re not,” Emily countered, taking a step towards you, holding your hand up to stop her. You couldn't do this if she was close to you. “And I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s happening,”

You shivered at the words. The same ones she had used before she checked you out of the hospital in Florida.

“I just have a lot on my mind,” You muttered, pressing the paper towel into your eyes.

“You’ve had a lot on your mind since camp,” She scoffed, hopping up on the counter next to you. “What’s going on?”

You let out a long sigh, knowing that she wasn’t going to let this go. She had refused to let anything go since she signed you out of the hospital. Since the nurse told her they had put you on a suicide hold.

you blew out a long breath, weighing the words in your mouth.

“I met my soulmate, and it’s complicated,” You said carefully. “I had the dream at camp and things have been difficult,”

“And Lindsey is hurt, even though she has a boyfriend?” She asked, connecting the dots differently than you thought she would. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding all our calls and texts, even tonight,”

She gestured towards your still buzzing phone.

“Something like that,” You muttered, finally looking up at her.

She sent you a small, sad smile. You just appreciated there was no pity in her look. She was one of the few who was aware of the true nature of your relationship. One of the few who treated you like you weren’t fragile after you came back. One of the few who held you accountable.

“We’ll figure it out,” She said solemnly. “At camp Kelley and I will run interference. You can forget about the drama and enjoy the game,”

You shook your head. “I’m just so tired,” You admitted, finally letting your pain and exhaustion show on your face. Showing her that your soul was slowly seeping from your body.

Emily pulled you close to her, and you fell into the comfort, burying your face in her chest, much like the night she had found you in France.

She squeezed you tightly as though she was holding all of your pieces together. Like she knew you were forgoing sleep to avoid your soulmate. Avoiding Lindsey. “Come on. Let’s go back, we’ll eat, and then you can get some sleep,”

“Ok,” You agreed, letting her guide you out of the bathroom and to your seat, completely ignoring Kelley’s questioning eyes and Christen’s worried expression.

“Everything alright?” Tobin finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the table, looking right at you.

“Yeah, all good,” You mumbled. “I think I’m just going to get a cheeseburger,”

You ignored Emily’s low scoff at the change of subject and Kelley’s raised eyebrow.

The sludge in your stomach rocked but didn’t flair up like you expected it to.

“Fishy and King said they were good here,” You added.

“They said their onion rings were fire too,” Tobin jumped in, and you knew that it was just because she would get details of whatever had happened later, but for now she allowed you to change the subject.

Christen hummed across the table, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation restarted.

You tried to relax and just enjoy your friends.

There would be time to worry later.

******

Tobin had learned a long time ago that you didn’t always express yourself in words. She had learned to instead watch you because your body language always gave you away. She learned that you would tell her what was bothering you eventually, and that patience was the most useful tool she had.

So that’s what she did, despite how much she wanted to know what happened in the bathroom.

She watched as Kelley and Emily pulled unwilling smiles from your lips. As they got your shoulders to relax and genuine laughs to escape your

It was the happiest she had seen you in months. The most… alive, despite how you flinched each time your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You still hadn’t told her and Christen exactly who was calling you.

She smiled as you leaned heavily into Christen as you all made your way down the sidewalk, towards the Washington Spirit hotel, making small talk with Emily.

The small curve of your lips was a win in her opinion. She could see the effects of the soulmate bond. The slow decay of your soul was a painful inevitability, and your hesitancy to share your pain with them was hard for her. You had been better about coming to them, but you were still hesitant, and she knew the pressure was mounting

She worried about what would happen when her and Christen weren’t there for support.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to wait for whatever BS story she told Em?” Kelley nudged Tobin’s ribs, nodding her head towards you. “Whatever happened in the bathroom looked pretty intense, and she was looking rough even before that,”

“It probably was,” Tobin said half under her breath, her eyes never leaving you. “She’s just… she’s going through a lot right now. I’m pretty sure Chris and I don’t even know the whole story,”

Kelley raised an eyebrow, a clear indication that she wanted more information, earning a long sigh from Tobin.

The midfielder-turned-forward’s eyes cut to Emily meaningfully. “All we know is that it’s a… personal thing,”

Soulmates shared everything, they held no secrets between them. It was an inherent downside to sharing your dreams with someone. So if she told Kelley, then Emily would know too, and she wasn’t about to betray your trust.

Kelley followed her eyes, understanding blooming in her features.

“Don’t worry, I won’t share more than I have to. I just want to help,” She said more softly, honesty in her tone. “What’s the personal thing?”

“It’s a problem with her soulmate,” Tobin said softly, the words barely above a whisper like it would soften the blow, but Kelley still recoiled.

It all made sense. The dark circles under your eyes, the ache that coated every one of your movements, the exhaustion a simple smile brought.

Kelley knew the symptoms well.

“That sucks,” She sighed.

You were such a good kid, and you never seemed to catch a break.

“Majorly,” Tobin agreed, remembering how you had cried in her arms. “I’m worried about how she’ll be at camp,”

She didn’t mention that you dealing with Lindsey on your own was something that made her very nervous. She didn’t mention that she was concerned about your propensity for self-destruction or running away.

It had taken both her and Emily to track you down to Florida. She didn’t want to find you living in a tent on the beach. She didn’t want to have to convince you that being with your friends was worth dealing with your feelings. She didn’t want to get a call that you weren’t allowed to check out of a hospital by yourself.

“Em and I will keep an eye on her,” Kelley said, catching Tobin's arm... “I’m sure Lindsey will help too,”

Tobin grimaced, her eyes turning dark. “Let’s keep Lindsey out of it,”

Kelley’s head tilted to the side, squinting. Lindsey was your best friend. The two of you had been inseparable until last camp. But she thought better of it than to comment. She knew the past the two of you shared after all.

“Is that who’s blowing up her phone?” Kelley asked, her brain working to catch up. “Or is it the random soulmate?”

Tobin shook her head, running a hand frustratedly through her hair. “She won’t tell us who has been calling her nonstop. It was so bad she stashed her phone in a sock drawer,”

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. Tobin wasn’t kidding when she said you were dealing with a lot. It seemed like the perfect mess of things. A web of pain with you at the epicenter. She just worried they wouldn’t be able to untangle you until it was too late.

“We’ll keep an eye on her. I promise,” Kelley said solemnly, already knowing that Emily planned to watch out for you anyway. She had been worried for weeks, and now that the younger defender had definitive proof there was something wrong, there would be no stopping her. Kelley had already agreed to be along for the ride. “Now let’s try to keep her in a good mood. She deserves that,”

You were always there for Emily, and she was determined to be there for you. You were like a little sister, she just hoped you would let her help.

*****

Kelley knew within the first hour of camp that Tobin had been right to be worried.

You were like a shell of yourself. She had seen it briefly at dinner, but being around you for an extended period exemplified how not ok you were.

Your easy smile was gone, as was the light that always seemed to follow you.

The only place you weren’t completely off was the field.

You were cutthroat, slicing up the young defense with no mercy. You barely took the time to direct like you normally would, and it seemed you had no patience for the new midfield to catch up. You didn’t explain or teach. And you had simply shrugged when Kelley asked why.

It was more selfish than you normally played and it was painfully obvious you were more focused on winning than having fun or helping the rest of the team.

It was just so not like you, and other people on the team were starting to notice.

But you seemed unbothered by the attention. The stares. You had barely looked at any of them.

The only one you seemed to notice was Lindsey, something that didn’t surprise her considering what Emily told her about the bathroom incident.

There was just something off about the story though. Something off about Lindsey’s reaction. It wasn’t… the reaction she would have expected if Lindsey was upset about you finding your soulmate.

“You look like a creeper,” Emily hummed, kissing her cheek, wrapping her arms around her soulmate, and resting her head on her shoulder, following her gaze. “You’ve been staring for a long time,”

“Just trying to read the dynamic,” Kelley mumbled, squinting as you nodded down another one of Sanchez’s crosses, and Huerta lined up to send one in from the other side.

You had been reluctant to agree to their request after practice, only saying yes to avoid Lindsey (from what Kelley could tell).

Lindsey glared at the pair as they asked you, cutting off her attempt to get close to you while you were getting water. That glare hadn’t stopped, even as you headed back towards the pitch.

Lindsey was blatant with the daggers she was sending toward Sofia and Sanchez. But it didn’t strike Kelley as friendly jealousy.

She was trying too hard to close the distance. She was watching you too closely.

It was too much.

“Looks like jealousy to me,” Emily chuckled, tightening her arms around Kelley’s waist, and kissing just behind her ear. “She’s totally jealous,”

“But what kind of jealous?” Kelley asked slowly, leaning into Emily’s lips. “Watch,”

Emily followed her gaze. Lindsey stood on the sideline, arms crossed, watching where Huerta was setting up a cross. The midfielder glared at the young defender, muttering something neither Kelley nor Emily could hear just before she took the cross.

It was slightly off-target, but that wasn’t a problem for you. You bodied it down and finished it easily with a heel flick.

Even without defenders around it was impressive.

It shouldn’t be that easy.

“You curl it where she’s going, not where she is,” Lindsey hissed towards Huerta, as you kicked the ball out of the net, passing it to Sanchez.

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t stick up for the youngins like you normally would. But then again, that would require interacting with Lindsey.

It was strange to see Lindsey so moody, so… unhelpful.

“It can’t be Sofia right?” Emily asked.

Kelley snorted at the question. Sofia was sweet, but she tiptoed around you, and not in the way that would indicate anything remotely romantic. Plus you had been on a team with her before you went to Angel City. Things wouldn’t have gotten as out of hand as they had.

“Tobin would have murdered Huerta,” Kelley muttered thoughtfully. “And Y/n has barely looked at either of them,”

The only person you had made eye contact with was Lindsey.

“It can’t be one of our teammates Kelley,” it was Emily’s turn to scoff. “She’s tearing herself apart and none of them would do that to her,”

The team held soulmates above all else, and as far as she knew, none of them would hurt you that way. None of them would stand by idly while the dark circles grew under your eyes and the light left your smile. None of them would let you self-destruct trying to make them happy.

Kelley’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I think the more pressing issue is her sleep schedule,”

“Christen already warned me,” Emily agreed. “She goes days without it if you don’t watch her,”

“I’ll talk to Alex and get it swapped,” Kelley said. “She’ll understand and agree,”

Their eyes watched you as you walked away from the youngins and finally settled onto the bench. Your exhaustion was obvious in the slump in your posture, the way you barely lifted your arm to squirt water into your mouth, even though you were trying to hide it.

You glanced down at your phone, glaring at the small device. You let out a long sigh, before pushing yourself to your feet and walking away from the group to answer the call.

“We need to figure out what’s going on outside of the soulmate thing too,” Kelley mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing. “Cause whatever it is can’t be good either,”

Emily hummed in agreement. “Definitely,”

*****

It wasn’t that Kelley liked to snoop. It was just that it was too easy to follow after you when you hadn’t reappeared on the field after you took the phone call.

It had been too enticing to deny.

They needed to know what they were dealing with, and hearing part of that conversation would tell them what you wouldn’t. Plus Kelley was like an older sister, protective and overbearing in her own way.

She could get away with a little spying, and if you caught her, you would be more likely to open up rather than flip out.

Kelley also wasn’t stuck between you and Lindsey. She had always been closer to you.

So she crept up to the door that separated the bathroom from the locker room. She pressed the door open just enough to be able to see your form, pacing back and forth, the phone pressed to your ear.

“Stop calling me Tyler. Nothing has changed, even now,” You growled, your lips forming a tight line. “I don’t care that she’s dying,”

She frowned at the mention of your brother.

You ran a hand through your hair, tugging harshly at the strands as you listened to whatever he was saying, your head already shaking.

“There is nothing to consider, stop calling me. I only need to know when it’s done,” You spat into the phone, ripping it away from your ear and jabbing at the screen before you tossed it carelessly toward your locker.

You looked like you wanted to scream or cry, or hit something, and Kelley felt her heart break for you.

You were always the strong one. You pretended to be fine for everyone else’s sake. It was rare you let your vulnerability show. Rare enough that Kelley had never seen it herself.

You turned, content on pacing the small room again, only to freeze in your tracks at what Kelley assumed was a person at the door that connected the locker room to the hallway.

She leaned forward, catching blonde hair and white nail polish over crossed arms.

Lindsey, she thought.

The midfielder pushed off of the door, taking the three steps it took to close the space between you. Kelley wasn’t sure how long Lindsey had been watching you. She wasn’t sure how much of the conversation she had heard.

Your posture changed, and your eyes hardened. “Look, I can’t deal with you too right now, alright?”

The coldness of your tone shook Kelley to the core. She wasn’t sure if you had ever used anything like it before.

“Deal with me?” Lindsey scoffed, exasperated stepping closer, so the two of you were nearly touching. “Can’t I just be a concerned friend?”

“We are not friends,”

Your voice was like ice. A knife razor sharp, and unyielding. You delivered it with a tilt of your chin, a glint in your eyes. A heavy blow thrown with complete accuracy. A blow to what Kelley didn’t know, but from the way Lindsey’s face fell, she knew the shot had landed.

It didn’t make sense. Not unless-

Kelley’s jaw dropped at the implication. Lindsey couldn’t be your-

“So you’ve said,” Lindsey said back, her voice too even, too calm despite the pain laced in it. But she didn’t leave your space.

“Don’t do that,” You snapped, shoving a finger in her chest and finally putting distance between you. Kelley winced at the action.

“What?” Lindsey bit back, her chin tilted up in defiance, her arms spread out to the side.“I’m not doing anything,”

Kelley held her breath. There was more being said than the words between you, and the way your back straightened at Lindsey’s sentence was as bad a sign as she had seen.

“You’re never doing anything,” You spat back. “Perfect Lindsey is always the victim, right? It’s big bad Y/n who is in the wrong, preying on the innocent right?”

You spat the words like venom. Like there was something else that went with them. A line that both you and Lindsey knew, but Kelley did not.

Lindsey’s face fell. “I don’t-“

“You never fucking do!” You shouted, a flush traveling up your neck to your cheeks as your fists clenched. Hurt and anger permeating your entire being. “You can stop being a bitch to Sanchez and Huerta. They’re kids who won’t leave me the fuck alone,”

Lindsey let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look I’m sorry about what I said, ok?”

“No. It’s not ok Lindsey,” You answered, your voice soft but cold as ever. “It will never be ok,”

“What do you want from me?” Lindsey pleaded. “What do I say to fix it?”

You paused, staring at her like she had grown a third head.

“Fix it? You haven’t even told your fucking boyfriend yet, have you?” you asked the word bitterly, and her silence was enough of an answer for both you and Kelley. You shook your head. “You’re un-fucking-believable, you know,”

And it all made sense to Kelley. The tension between the two of you. Your pain.

“I don’t-“ Lindsey stuttered, but you cut her off easily.

“You do,” You said, a weight of finality in your tone. “Just leave. me. alone. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t corner me. Just stay away from me,”

The words were punctuated by the sound of you grabbing your bag, and Kelley stumbled back into one of the stalls, hoping you wouldn’t catch her.

But she wasn’t fast enough, caught in the curtain as you pushed your way through the door.

You rolled your eyes at the defender, more irritated by Lindsey than Kelley’s eavesdropping.

You already expected the extra ears, especially after your episode at dinner with Kelley, Emily, and Preath. They were nosey, even if it was for the right reasons.

You chose to ignore her as you picked your own shower stall, partially because you didn’t want to address it, but also because you didn’t know if you could speak without your voice cracking and you didn’t want to lose it here. Not with her in the next room, or your friends around to see.

You were not an emotional person, and being so raw made you uncomfortable.

“That seemed like a rough conversation,” Kelley said finally, stepping so she could lean on the frame of the entrance to your stall.

You blew out a long, shaky breath, dropping your extra clothes and towel on the little chair.

“Not you too,” You grumbled. “what’s with you and Emily cornering me in bathrooms,”

“What’s with you running to them?” Kelley countered, raising an eyebrow at you.

You closed your eyes, your head leaning back on the shower wall with a thump.

The sludge in your stomach sloshed unyieldingly. The pain in your chest echoing out with each beat of your heart. You unconsciously brought your hand up to clutch over the area, your nails digging into the sensitive skin through your shirt.

“I don’t want to talk about this alright?”

Kelley softened at the quiet, vulnerable request, reaching up to catch your hand, flattening it against her palm. “You’re shaking,”

You bit your lip, nodding down to your chest. “It hurts,”

Her eyes followed your gesture, and her heart sank a little bit more.

She knew the symptoms of soulmate sickness. She had experienced its effects for herself. That wasn’t something she wanted you to have to go through.

“Let me see,” She said softly, waiting for you to nod before she reached for you.

She was gentle as she pulled your practice jersey over your head, her breath catching when she saw the black mark on your chest, right over your heart.

It was dark at the very center, several rings of what looked like bruises surrounded it and a web of black veins sprouted from the center.

It was a physical symptom of your emotional pain. A visual representation of rejection from a soulmate. The necrotic tissue spreading from your crushed heart.

She watched as the veins pulsed, pushing the dark color further from the epicenter, eating away at your chest.

“Oh my god,” She breathed out, her eyes snapping to yours. “Do Tobin and Christen know?”

You nodded once. It was hard to hide when you were living on their couch. Plus they had been there when the first black mark appeared. “It wasn’t this bad until last week. Things kinda took a turn,”

“I can see that,” She said, retracting her hand when you winced after she lightly touched the angriest of the black veins. “Was this before or after your stopped sleeping,”

“I stopped sleeping after she rejected me the first time,” You scoffed, gritting your teeth when the pain pulsed yet again.

“Well that’s not gonna continue,” Kelley said sternly. “I swapped with Alex,”

“Of course, you did,” You groaned. “I don’t need a parent,”

“No, you don’t,” She said slowly. “But you don’t have to struggle through all of this alone,”

You gulped, as her eyes searched you before she pulled you into a tight hug. You buried your face in her neck, letting her strong arm and scent soothe you.

“I’m not pushing Lindsey away because I want to be alone,”

“No, you’re pushing her away because it hurts less,” Kelley agreed, and there was no judgment in her voice. “Because every time you let her close, she cuts you,”

You appreciated that.

“It didn’t hurt like this until she called it a gay fantasy and accused me of sleeping with all of my friends,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was only after the dream that the mark appeared. You guessed it was because it was an actual rejection.

Kelley tensed underneath you, cursing under her breath. That was more than just a complication, and she wished Tobin had been more informative. Unless Tobin didn’t know.

It made sense why you didn’t want to sleep. Why was your brother bothering you? None of that made sense, but they could only tackle one problem at a time.

“She’s an idiot,” Kelley said finally, pulling back so she could look you in the eye. “but tearing yourself apart isn’t the answer. You need sleep. Let me help,”

You met her eyes, and you saw the worry. The anger. The understanding that rivaled Tobins. She made you feel safe.

“Ok,”

******

Kelley was on a warpath so deadly that even Emily didn’t think she could stop her. Frankly, Emily wasn’t sure if she even wanted to stop her.

Not after Kelley told her. Not after she saw the black mark herself. It made her chest ache just looking at it.

It was worse that she knew one of her best friends was the cause of it. That Lindsey had not only accused you of sleeping with your friends but dismissed your bond with such vulgar language.

They had been lucky to make it through dinner without any outbursts, especially with the way Lindsey stared at your every movement, stilted as they were, and the way she was glowering at Emily and Kelley like she knew they knew.

But Emily wondered if Lindsey knew. If she had given any thought to the consequences of her actions.

You had only stayed long enough to eat before excusing yourself back to your own room. Lindsey followed, sending a meaningful glare toward the defender pair as she passed.

“She’s warning us,” Kelley muttered, standing as soon as the door closed. “I don’t like it,”

Emily sighed, pushing herself to her feet and trailing after her soulmate. “I don’t like any of this,”

She hoped Lindsey went back to her room. She hoped that Lindsey wouldn’t push, not when you were already so far on edge.

Her hopes were dashed as the elevator doors binged open and there she was sitting outside your hotel room door.

“Don’t you know the meaning of stay away?” Kelley growled as they approached the midfielder. Emily placed a gentle hand on Kelley’s arm, hoping to prevent the second half of the sentence. The match that would light the inevitable blow up.

“She’s probably asleep,” Emily said, her grip on Kelley tightening. Afraid of what the defender would say. “She said she wanted to nap after she finished eating,”

It had been a fight to get you to agree that you desperately needed a nap. A fight to get you to recognize that the only way to deal with the stress of camp was to give your body the support it needed.

“She probably exhausted herself flirting with the kids,” Lindsey grumbled, patting the carpeted floor.

“She exhausted herself protecting the little bit she has left.” Kelley snapped back. “We could only convince her to sleep because we promised we’d prevent you from following her there. Prevent you from cornering her again,”

It had been true. They swore they would make sure Lindsey stayed awake so you could avoid another unwanted confrontation, one Lindsey seemed intent on having.

You were too tired to fight, and both defenders feared that any more pushing would make the mark on your chest grow.

“This isn’t all my fault,” Lindsey bit back, shoving herself to her feet and advancing toward Kelley.

At least it got her away from your door.

Kelley’s face hardened, and she pressed against Emily’s restraining arm, getting as close to the midfielder as she could. “No. You just belittled the bond you share and accused her of fucking all of her teammates,”

Lindsey glared, stepping so she was toe to toe with Kelley at the clear challenge. “Are you trying to tell me that Y/n didn’t fuck her way back to the plane in France, or on the beach in Florida?”

“How fucking blind are you Lindsey,” Kelley scoffed, her chest pushing against Emily’s restraining arm, trying to get closer.

“Easy,” Emily said, her arm tightening around Kelley, her eyes never leaving the midfielder. “Y/n has been trying to get over you for forever,”

Lindsey's lip curled at the gentle admission. “And she followed you like a puppy when you brought her back to Portland,”

A dark look crossed Emily’s face. Both her and Tobin were particularly protective of your time in Florida for a reason. You were a mess when you got back. A self-destructive mess, and it had taken so long to get you out of those habits. To prevent more scars.

“They were only so close because Em was the one who found her after I found you in the closet,” Kelley answered before she could, her voice turning cruel. “What was it you said to her as you shoved her half-dressed into the hallway? That what you two were doing meant nothing? That she meant nothing?”

Kelley would never forget finding you and Emily that night. The way her own soulmate explained exactly what Lindsey said to you. The guilt she felt at how knocking on a door had set your spiral into motion again.

But that was nothing compared to this. No. Lindsey had dismissed the bond you shared as a gay fantasy and you were tearing yourself apart over it.

“She was afraid you would reject her again, or that she would have to pretend the two of you hadn’t blurred the friendship line,” Emily added more softly, finally letting go of Kelley.

Leaving you alone didn’t feel like a good move right now.

“Go, check on her,” Kelley said, pushing the blonde defender towards the door with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be good I promise,”

Kelley waited for the door to close before turning her cold eyes back on the midfielder.

“She was right to be afraid,” She said, her voice soft but deadly, like a razor running on delicate skin. “You fucked this up. You were the one who made the choice. Who has made all of the choices? You don’t get to comment on how Y/n protects herself. You need to wake up before you push her too far,”

With that, she stepped around the stunned midfielder and entered the hotel room too.

*****

“You told me to call you when it was done,” Your brother's muffled voice met her as she stepped through the door. “It’s done. The service is tomorrow and you’re expected to be there,”

She frowned at the scene, you perched on the end of the bed next to Emily, pinching the bridge of your nose, the phone held up to your ear.

“I’ll be there,” You said softly, making eye contact with Kelley, exhaustion clear in your features.

There was no I love you exchanged between you and your brother as the line went dead.

Kelley approached you carefully, taking up your other side so you were seated between the defenders. “What’s going on?”

You ran a hand through your hair, puffing out your cheeks and blowing out a long breath. You took a long moment to order your thoughts, pushing the ones of Lindsey from your mind.

You could only deal with one problem at a time.

“My mom died, I have to go,” You said slowly, dragging your hand down your face. “I’ll be back before the next game, but I’ve gotta go,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and began shoving clothing into your bag.

“Slow down,” Kelley said, standing and catching your arm as you tried to shove a sweatshirt into your bag.

You stopped, throwing your head back toward the ceiling with a low groan. Kelley’s hand found your back, silently supporting you.

“I can’t,” The words slid from your lips, landing like Little rocks on a pond. “I didn’t want to deal with any of this, but I have to,”

“Your brother is the one who’s been calling you,” Kelley supplied, filling in the gap.

You nodded. “My mother was in hospice. Her dying request was a conversation with me,”

“She had no right to ask for that,” Emily said, moving to stand on your other side. “Not after the way you grew up,”

You bit your lip.

“Y/n,” Kelley sighed, rubbing your back.

You shook your head. You didn’t have a choice in this. In any of it.

“Well she did, and now she’s dead,” You said finally, pulling yourself out of their comforting arms and towards your bag. “It’s another thing I’ve fucked up,”

The only good thing about this situation was that you would be back in time for the game against South Korea in Kansas City. That the game was in the town you had to go to anyway.

“Stop. Look at me,” Emily caught your arm again, using a thumb under your chin to force you to look her in the eyes. She raised an eyebrow at you. “you know none of this is your fault right?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and for the first time, she saw the little spark in your eyes go dead. It was the first time she saw the full toll of the soulmate bond on you. The full force of the pressure from your family and the team.

“Look. I don’t want to. I haven’t wanted to deal with any of this, but I have to,” Your voice shook as you said the words. You gulped, shoving your feelings into a little box. “So just let me, and try to get along with Linds. She can’t help how she feels, and she doesn’t need the entire team against her,”

You didn’t want them to fight a fight that wasn’t their own.

It was between Lindsey and you, and they didn’t need to destroy the team dynamic over something that was your problem.

You should be able to be her friend. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t hold the same feelings you did.

The things she said to you were your problem, not your friend’s problem.

“I have to go,” You said, grabbing your bag.

Kelley stared at you for a long moment, before pulling you into a hug. “We’re here for you,”

You let out a breath, accepting the comfort. “I know,”

You pulled away, nodding at Emily as you walked out the door.

You should have been expecting Lindsey to be waiting for you. You should have been prepared, but you weren’t.

You made eye contact with her as you stepped into the hallway, and it made your chest ache. Her burning blue made the ice in your veins prickle, and your heart lurched in your chest.

You steeled yourself, opting to roll your eyes and step past her. It hurt less than commenting or trying to hold conversation.

But she didn’t let you pass. Her fingers wrapped around your arm.

“Y/n wait. Can we talk?” She asked, her fingers tightening slightly at the question.

You twisted your arm, pulling away, and stepping towards the elevator. You clicked the call button.

“Maybe you should try again later,” Emily said, sliding between you and Lindsey.

You could feel her sending you worried looks over her shoulder., trying to act as a mediator between her two best friends. You caught her hand, intent on telling her to stay out of it, that this was your problem, but Lindsey didn’t give you the chance.

“What’s wrong with now?” Lindsey hissed, stepping closer so she was pressed into Emily, and Emily was pressed into you.

You took an involuntary step back, breathing a sigh of relief when the elevator binged open.

You didn’t answer, stepping into the elevator, and making eye contact again as it slid closed.

“Y/n please!” She pleaded as the door slid closed.

But you just blinked at her. You didn’t have anything to say back.

You couldn’t uncap your emotions now. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

And you needed to be in control if you were going to face your family.

*****

Lindsey clutched her chest as the elevator door slid closed as if she was trying to grab the sudden pain that shot through her.

It was a feeling she had never experienced before. A stabbing sensation that lit her nerve endings on fire.

You had been so cold. So… indifferent, not towards her at least.

And she couldn’t stand it. In the locker room, you had been all vitriol and rage. She could understand your anger. She knew how to respond to anger.

She could throw your pain back at you if you were simply angry. She could be angry in return. She could pretend that she didn’t know she was hurting you. She could pretend that she didn’t loathe herself for it.

But the way you looked at her. She couldn’t pretend that you weren’t in agony. That you weren’t suffering.

She didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t know how to stop. Not without admitting the truth, and that fucking terrified her.

But losing you terrified her more. It was her greatest fear.

She had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t lost you. That it was just a disagreement you would get over. But as the elevator doors dinged shut, it was clear that this was different.

Her phone pinged, and it made her want to vomit. She knew it was him. She hated how her heart no longer leaped for him, but she wasn’t ready to put him out of his misery either.

She glared down at the device, sliding down the wall next to the elevator, unable to hold herself up.

“Great fucking timing,” She muttered, rubbing a frustrated hand through her hair.

She didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t know how to fix it. She just… didn’t know.

She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to the sky. She wasn’t sure if she believed in a god anymore (just that thought would make her parents’ head roll), but if there was, she wished he would tell her what the fuck to do. She wished he would tell her how the fuck she was supposed to fix this.

She felt Emily’s eyes on her for a long moment, before the defender slid down the wall to sit beside her.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Lindsey said, taking a deep, watery breath. “Any of this,”

“She didn’t leave camp because of you,” Emily’s shoulders lifted and fell. “Her mom died. She’ll be back with us when we get to Kansas,”

Lindsey sucked in another deep breath.

So that was what your brother was harassing you about. That was the thing he wanted you to do.

She knew how strained your relationship with your family was. Your mother kicked you out when you were 16 because she found you kissing your high school girlfriend.

When she called her your… gay fantasy.

She had used the same term to insult you.

Jesus, how was she so fucking stupid?

“I’m sorry,”

Lindsey’s voice was heavy, weighed down by emotions she didn’t know how to put into words.

Emily’s shoulders lifted and fell again. “It’s not me you’ve gotta convince,”

Lindsey hated how indifferent she sounded too. How careful not to get in the middle.

And as if on cue, her phone pinged again.

She glared at the device, straining to prevent herself from throwing it across the room as if it was the root cause of all of her issues.

It buzzed again in her hand.

Emily rolled her eyes at the device. “I think the first step to showing her you’re sorry is to have a very important conversation with him,”

Lindsey frowned. How did Emily know she hadn’t told him yet? “How?”

“A locker room isn’t a good place for a private chat,” Emily shrugged for the 3rd time, and Lindsey wanted to scream. How was the blonde defender so… blasé?

It made the ache in her chest throb like the pain was in time with her heart. She rubbed at the spot on her chest, and the weight of Emily’s pitying gaze was too much to handle.

She couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down her cheeks, or the sobs that shook her to her core.

She didn’t deserve to cry. Not when she was the creation of the entire mess. Not when she was the one to make the choice.

Emily sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

Lindsey gripped her shirt with her free hand like her life depended on it.

Emily rubbed her back, resting her chin on blonde hair. It killed her to see you both so… distraught. She loved you both so much. No matter how unhappy she was with her friend, the blonde defender wasn’t heartless. She couldn’t sit back while one of her best friends sobbed.

She hugged Lindsey tightly, rocking side to side. “I’ve got you. You’re ok,”

Lindsey shuttered against her chest, her tears leaking into Emily’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Lindsey cried, gripping Emily’s shirt for dear life.

Emily shushed her softly. “I know,”

She did know. She had seen the way Lindsey rubbed her chest and knew it was from the bond. The midfielder was getting a small taste of the agony you were in. A small feel of a soul being degraded.

“I don’t know what to do,” Lindsey hiccupped, pulling away.

Emily sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t know what to do either, well nothing that Lindsey was ready to do yet (break up with your boyfriend came to the front of her mind).

But past that, you weren’t at a place where you were ready to forgive Lindsey either. The midfielder hit a very sore spot. She had opened old wounds with little care. Wounds that would take time to heal.

“Well,” Emily said slowly. “Y/n has a lot to deal with right now. I don’t think pressuring her will help,”

“So I give up?” Lindsey sniffed.

Emily shook her head, raising an eyebrow, and instantly correcting her. “I think you give her the space she asked you for,”

Lindsey nodded once but bit her lip. “What if I see her? I can’t stop the dreams,”

Maybe a part of her was hoping to see you in a space where you couldn’t run away. Where she could finally get out all the things she wanted to say, even if you weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“I think you still try to give her space,” Emily cracked a smile as if she was reading the midfielder's mind. “You remember how to be a good human, don’t you?”

Lindsey got the look in her eye that she did when they were running film, and she had just found the other team’s weakness.

“I can do that,” She nodded, her determination clear.

Emily only hummed in response, I hope you can, echoing in her mind. Because if Lindsey couldn’t, well, that wasn’t a bridge Emily wanted to have to cross. It wasn’t a bridge Emily thought you would survive crossing.

*****

Lindsey’s nose scrunched as she came into awareness, her arms folding around herself in a tight hug as she shifted on the uncomfortable wooden floor. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and legs, a doomed attempt to fight the cold that surrounded her and settled deep into her bones.

She shifted again as her eyes blinked open, the floor creaking dangerously below her. She squinted at the dim blue ceiling, trailing down the peeling blue walls.

It was dark and dingy, unlike the previous dreams the two of you had shared. She idly wondered if it was due to the only source of light being a small window above the bed, or if it was a manifestation of something darker.

She let out a breath, watching as it left her in a white puff of mist, curling gently around her, highlighting how sad your small form curled on the windowsill looked.

You matched the room it seemed.

There was a small twin bed shoved against one wall and a broken dresser that stood at the end of your bed. It surprised her that those were the only items within the 4 walls. You didn’t even have a closet.

The only part of the room that looked new was the heavy wooden door. It had no handle, only a series of 4 shiny metallic locks. Her eyebrows furrowed. The keyholes were pointed inward.

She wondered if it was something the dream world had created. A way to force the two of you to have an actual conversation. One that she wasn’t prepared for.

You had asked for space after all. She assumed that translated to the dream world instead.

“It locks from the outside,” You answered her unasked question, never looking away from the window.

Her eyes snapped to you. “What?”

“The door,” You said, turning to wave a hand at the object, and resting your chin on your knees. “My mom used to lock it from the outside,”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected you to address her.

The red ring around your eyes was shocking, as was the way it made the Y/e/c in your eyes stand out. The pain in them was raw, real. It made Lindsey’s chest ache.

“Oh,” She breathed out, the weight of the implication too heavy for her brain to work through.

She knew your childhood was bad, but seeing the place you had grown up was… something else. It made her feel like she had ice in her beings, prickling at her skin from the inside out.

You shrugged, letting your legs fall off the sill and sliding onto the small twin bed. It creaked underneath you. “That's why I liked to sleep at the field. At least there I was free,”

Lindsey swallowed the lump in her throat with a slow nod, trying not to focus on how the mattress dipped under your light weight.

You leaned forward, your feet resting on the floor, your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands. And you looked… sad. Pale and completely defeated. Being in this place was more torment than anything else for you, and Lindsey wondered if this was actually the place you were sleeping for the night.

If your brother was punishing you for ignoring him. If you were surviving your family.

The silence stretched between the two of you, as you chewed on your bottom lip watching her as she watched you. You reminded her of a wounded animal, backed into a corner. Trapped in a cage you couldn’t escape.

It made Lindsey’s chest ache. She couldn’t just sit in silence with you.

“I- I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sorry,” She stuttered out, barely above a whisper.

You instinctively knew she was telling the truth, and part of you wondered if it was some weird soulmate thing. The other part of you was too… exhausted to care.

You shifted on the bed, carefully rubbing over the spot on your chest, grimacing as you pressed too hard into the tender skin.

You couldn’t deal with that and your family and Lindsey all at the same time. It was just… too much.

“Can we just… not?” You asked slowly, and you hated the pain that permeated the sentence. You hated how Lindsey slumped back against the wall at the request. How… hurt she looked.

You didn’t want to hurt her, no matter how much pain she had inflicted on you. Two wrongs didn’t make a right.

She was once your best friend. She had held you while you suffered serious abuse in France. She held you together during your first NWSL season, and during the World Cup when the pressure of being back in the place that had hurt you and the need to perform had been too much. She had willingly blurred and crossed lines that you never had before.

Lindsey had always helped you handle your emotions, and though you didn’t have the right to ask her, you needed her in a way that settled deep in your bones. Like you couldn’t breathe without her.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the rejection you knew you deserved.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but can we just pretend tonight that we don’t hate each other?” You asked, so softly she almost didn’t hear you, staring at the floor right by her feet.

“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed as you made eye contact again.

You worried your bottom lip, taking a second to gather the courage to ask her again. “Can we just be the old Y/n and the old Lindsey?” You held out a hand, noticing it was shaking. Your entire body was shaking. “just for tonight? Can we pretend that none of this ever happened?”

Lindsey had every right to deny you, especially when that was all she had asked of you from the beginning. All she wanted was to keep her best friend, and you couldn’t give her that. You told her you weren’t friends.

Why in the hell should she give you this now?

Lindsey gulped, slowly standing and taking your hand. Emily’s words echoed in her head. You remember how to be a good human, don’t you?

“Yeah, we can do that,”

Your hand squeezed hers once, twice, three times.

She smiled softly, as you scooted back on the bed, making space for her beside you. She very slowly joined you on the bed, trying not to wince when it nearly collapsed around the two of you. You wiggled your way under her arm, gently settling your head on her chest.

Warmth bloomed from the spot that you touched. It made the icicles in her veins retreat. It made the pain in her chest shrink. It made her feel… right.

She let her fingers trace patterns on your back and felt you slowly relax against her. She held you closer when she felt the tears leaking through her shirt and the subtle shake of your back.

Each little droplet burned her like acid, and the ice followed in their wake. It killed her that she was the reason for them.

“I don’t hate you,” Lindsey said, breaking the silence between you, staring at a dark patch in the ceiling. “And I had no right to say those things to you. I let my jealousy get the best of me,”

You hummed in response, rubbing your cheek against her chest. It made the pain in your chest lessen.

“I’m so so sorry,” She continued, her words disappearing into your hair.

She didn’t expect a verbal response from you. She didn’t need a verbal response.

She held you tighter though, smiling when she felt your heart rate slow against her, knowing that at least she was settling you instead of upsetting you tonight.

You closed your eyes and breathed in her scent, nearly as strong in the dreams as it was in real life.

“Love you Linds, always,” You mumbled against her, not looking up to see her reaction.

She stilled beneath you, waiting for your breathing to completely even out before she pressed her lips to the crown of your head.

“I love you too,”

Always.

*****

It was scary how exhaustion and pain were becoming an everyday part of your life. How you were used to the stabbing sensation in your chest, and the tingles that sprouted from it. How you were used to the little anvils behind your eyelids. How you were used to fighting your instincts to curl up and hide away.

By the time you made it to the hotel in Kansas City, you were losing that fight. You felt so heavy, exhaustion hitting you so bone-deep it was integrated into your very being.

It only took one look at you by the trainers and they were agreeing that a nap in your room was much needed. They let you grab a lunch plate and head up with little question. Kelley and Emily hadn’t bothered you either, only putting the tv on low while you dozed.

By dinner time, you felt ready to face the team. Well, as ready as you were going to get.

You rolled your eyes as you stepped into the hallway and saw Lindsey already waiting, seated beside your door, kicking yourself for not getting dressed fast enough to walk down with Kelley and Emily.

You hoped that this didn’t become a new normal for her. You were too tired to try and avoid her or to confront her head-on.

“Hey,” She said, scrambling to a standing position.

You tilted your head in acknowledgment, stepping past her and clicking the elevator button.

It felt eerily similar to the last time the two of you had spoken in person. Except this time she followed you into the elevator.

“So silent treatment?” She asked mostly to herself as the doors slid shut, trapping the two of you together.

Your shoulders lifted and fell. You had nothing against talking to Lindsey, you were just so exhausted.

You knew that you should bring up the shared dream, and the words that she had whispered when she thought you couldn’t hear. You knew you should thank her for comforting you when you had no right to ask for it.

But what else was there to say? You had said it was only for the night, and you were damned and determined to keep that. She deserved for you to let her be happy, even if it wasn’t with you.

You were too… raw to hear her say it though. Too raw for her to tell you again that she was going to choose him. That her comforting you had indeed been only for the night. Plus, it didn’t matter what she said while the two of you were alone. You knew the minute you were back with your friends, things would go back to the way they were before the dream, so believing her now would only… hurt more.

Your chest already ached at the thought.

Stifling silence was better than being rejected again.

Lindsey sighed heavily from beside you, placing a heavy hand on your arm, forcing you to look at her. “Look, I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said, All of it,”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way goosebumps erupted across your arm where her skin touched yours.

You had meant everything that you said too, no matter how much you loathe to admit it, but you were sure Lindsey already knew that. She was by no means blind to how wrapped around her fingers you were.

She had known that you loved her since you were both barely adults. She had known since the first time the two of you…

It didn’t matter what she knew. It didn’t matter what she said. She had said it all before, hadn’t she? And you didn’t want to pretend anymore. You were too tired for games.

You nodded toward her, unwilling to argue. Her eyes tightened, and you could tell that she wanted to say more.

But you didn’t want to hear it. She could say whatever she wanted, but people’s emotions didn’t change overnight. A dream wasn’t some magical Band-Aid that would fix everything that was broken. Especially when you were the one to say the truce was only for the night.

Her mouth opened, but the elevator ding interrupted her before she could speak. Before she had the chance to crack the already broken shell you had built around yourself.

You stared at her for a long moment, frozen in time, trapped in the deep pools of her sorry eyes, before you ripped your arm away from her and darted out of the elevator.

You were moving so fast, looking behind you that you didn't see his tall, solid form until you were crashing into him. Her arms caught your shoulders as he steadied you.

“Whoa, easy,” He chuckled. Liquid fire raced from your heart, out to the points he had touched, an unnerving numbing chasing after it. You pulled away from him like you had been burned.

Your head whipped between him and Lindsey as you stumbled backward. Just as you thought, she only cared for you when no one was watching.

You had been right not to trust her.

*****

Pain was slowly becoming your close companion, the low ache in your chest and sludge in your stomach unwelcome friends that refused to leave your company. You closed your eyes tightly, pressing your face further into the cool cloth of the dining table.

Emily and Kelley's warm hands did little to ease the throbbing emanating from the dark mark on your chest.

“What is he even doing here?” You groaned into the white cloth, your eyes closed tightly leaning back into the soothing touch of your friends. It did little to help you, but you appreciated the effort.

You didn’t want to deal with the situation. With him. You had thought about what you would do if you ever met him. If you were ever forced to be in the same room as him, and none of those options seemed viable.

You were too exhausted, too pained to tell him what you thought of him. You cared for Lindsey too much to expose that she had lied to him, and it hurt too much to pretend like you were fine.

“It’s her 100 cap celebration,” Kelley supplied, sounding equally as annoyed as you felt. Her finger lightly grazed the angry black line that extended over your shoulder. You doubted that your kit top would cover it, and you worried that the commentators would draw more attention. That after the game you would be flooded with comments from fans who didn’t understand and media outlets who wanted to profit off of your pain.

They didn’t understand that it was excruciating being forced to watch your soulmate galavant with her boyfriend. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, but It still made you want to vomit.

“I didn’t think they were still talking. I thought she told him,” Emily mumbled, rubbing your back again as a form of apology. “She hasn’t been taking his calls since you left,”

You forced yourself upright, shrugging off the hand and grabbing your fork. You angrily stabbed at your fruit.

You hated that Emily had been caught between the two of you. It had acid pooling in your throat and made the throb moving up your shoulder pulse. Your pain should not be shared by your friends, and yet-

You shook your head, bringing the fruit to your lips.

You felt dirty. Emily had agreed to help Lindsey and now the midfielder was flaunting her relationship in front of you all.

“None of this is your fault,” You mumbled, chewing slowly. “It’s on her. She told me she loved me and now…-”

You shook your head again. You didn’t want an apology from Emily or Kelley. You didn’t even want one from Lindsey. You just wanted to be done. To run away and never come back. For it all to just… stop.

“There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love,” Kelley said softly, gently, like you were a fragile thing she was afraid to break.

You hummed. You knew that. It was just part of you… a small part… wanted to believe that she could love you. That eventually, she would choose to love you. It was that small hope that kept the soul-sucking ache at bay. That had helped you force your way through your visit with your family and all of their unwanted commentary.

“I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what you were even going to say. Your family had sapped all of your emotional energy, and this. Well, this just took whatever little you had left. “I don’t even know,”

Maybe you would run off to Australia this time, where no one would ever think to look for you and your path would never cross with your soulmate. Not even during dreams.

You took another bite of your fruit.

“Hey guys,” Lindsey smiled hesitantly, approaching the table and pausing beside the two empty chairs across from you. It drew the attention (and glares) of the entire table to her.

Your eyes were on her instantly. On the way his hand cupped the small of her back protectively and how she leaned back into him.

The knife in your chest twisted and the sludge sloshed. You did not doubt that the mark above your heart would grow. It always did when she rejected you.

You missed the greetings your friends sent their way, adding in your silent nod when Emily nudged you.

At least Ty pulled her chair out for her as they sat across from you.

You stared at him with a sort of masochistic curiosity, trying to see what she saw.

He leaned forward in his chair, reminding you of a giddy child, his dimples showing. “You all ready for South Korea?”

Maybe she liked the way his dirt-colored eyes glinted with excitement. Or the way his head bobbed when he talked.

It made your stomach roll again, ripping away the little appetite you had.

You cleared your throat, pushing your plate away and standing. Your chair screeched against the floor. “No, I need to go get my stuff together,”

You grabbed the still full plate, ignoring Emily and Kelley’s worried glances and Lindsey’s concerned eyes as you turned on your heel and headed for the door.

You didn’t want or need Lindsey’s concern because clearly, she didn’t care enough.

“So maybe I shouldn’t place too many bets on a high score line,” Ty chuckled, seemingly oblivious to your abrupt departure, or the awkward silence that had settled over the table. He glanced down at his plate, his smile only getting wider. “Ah shit, I forgot silverware,” he kissed Lindsey’s cheek and stood, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he headed back towards the food table. “Brb babe,”

She sent him a half smile back and then turned back to the unimpressed looks from her friends.

“You’re really something,” Kelley muttered around her glass. “But you already knew that,”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed and she watched the defender carefully. “What?”

Kelley shook her head, her lips pursing as if she was thinking too hard about what she was going to say next. “You’re going to kill her, and you don’t even care,”

Lindsey’s frown deepened, a crease forming on her forehead. She was killing you? She knew you were in pain but… killing?

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. “What?”

The words felt dumb falling from her lips and she felt dumb for uttering them.

“You’re going to kill her,” Kelley repeated, her teeth gritting, even as Emily’s hand landed on her thigh. A warning to keep her from saying more. The older defender took a long breath. “And I wished you gave a fuck. It would feel more fair if you pretended to give a fuck,”

“I do give a fuck,” Lindsey hissed back, unable to stop the red that flooded her cheeks or the unwanted shiver that ran down her spine.

She cared about you far more than she wanted to admit. She cared so much that it hurt. It made the spot in her chest right above her heart ache and burn. It was a sting she couldn’t even properly put into words.

Kelley’s glass hit the table with more force than she meant for it to, and Emily’s hand tightened on her thigh.

“I can’t be on your side when you do things like this,” Emily said, disappointment dripping from her voice.

“For the record, I was never on your side,” Kelley interrupted her lip curling.

“We talked about this,” Emily continued as if Kelley hadn’t spoken. “And this isn’t-“

“I’m trying, alright,” Lindsey bit out, interrupting the blonde defender. “I thought he would get the message,”

She had been ignoring him for weeks. She didn’t invite him, but suddenly he was here.

Kelley snorted, crossing her arms. “And now he’s here,”

The older defender shook her head. She could still feel the black vein on your neck pulsing beneath her fingers like a dark promise. A siren of what was to come. A warning light that hadn’t been there before you had come face to face with him.

Emily’s fingers tightened on her. She wasn’t supposed to fight with Lindsey. She wasn’t supposed to get involved, she had promised you she wouldn’t but… she couldn’t just sit and watch.

Not while you were so insistent on ripping yourself apart to keep the truth from Lindsey.

Emily sighed, running the hand not holding Kelley through her hair. She knew she needed to pick her words carefully.

“You know how to be a good human Lindsey,” She said slowly, pushing herself to stand. You shouldn’t be left to your own devices for long. “and you’re running out of time,”

She sent the midfielder a meaningful look before turning on her heel and heading off to find you.

Kelley watched her leave, also pushing herself to stand.

She paused, tapping her knuckle on the table and looking directly into Lindsey’s burning blue eyes. “You need to make the right choice,”

She didn’t wait for Lindsey to reply before she too left the table, only taking a second to send Ty a glare as he reappeared at the table before heading out the door.

Lindsey could only watch her, slightly stunned. Her hand idly came up to rub the spot right above her heart that never stopped aching.

“Everything alright?” Ty asked, his hand landing heavily on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped to meet his. It burned where he touched her. It made the ice prickle in her veins. It felt… wrong.

He looked concerned for her. He cared about something that he didn’t understand because he cared for her. It made the acid in her stomach bubble.

He slid into the seat beside her, wrapping his arm more tightly around her.

“Everything's fine,” She muttered, leaning into him, frowning when his warmth did nothing to soothe the prickling in her veins or the pain in her chest.

He squeezed her shoulder. “You sure?”

She sent him a very tight smile and a short nod. “Everything is wonderful,”

He mirrored her, kissing her forehead and returning to his meal.

His lips burned, and all she could feel was the impression of yours. How many times had you kissed her forehead after an intimate moment or comforted her when things looked bad? How many times had you wrapped your arm around her so she could snuggle into your chest?

It made the pit in her stomach deepen, and she had no idea how she could stop it.

*****

You didn’t think yourself to be a superstitious person, but you liked to keep your pre-game ritual similar. You liked your process. It helped you get your head in the right space, and you desperately needed something that would let you focus on anything other than Lindsey and her boyfriend.

Your hands shook as you wrapped your red pre-wrap around your wrist, counting each pass in your head.

It was something you had done since the middle of your run with PSG in France. A tradition that fans talked about online, but no one ever asked about it directly.

For that you were thankful.

The only person who understood was Lindsey. She had seen the lines that littered the inside of your wrists and arms. The lines that had been a physical manifestation of your pain. Habits that you had relied on off and on since your time in France. Once you had only given up after Emily made you promise. After she saved you from Florida.

A part of you wished she hadn’t saved you.

The coral had felt good digging into your back, slicing you open like cheese on a grater as the ocean waves had their way with you. It felt good to give up control. To just be. You remembered the moment that your foot tether got caught on the rocks. How you hadn’t panicked. How you felt almost… relieved. How you stopped trying to reach for the diving knife you always kept on you or the velcro still around your ankle.

You could still feel the burn of the salty ocean water as it fought its way past your lips, how it stung your nose and throat as you finally let go. You could still see the last bubble that escaped your lungs as the water rushed in and the diver's wide eyes as she cut you free just seconds before it was too late.

Your oxygen-deprived brain had been convinced it was Lindsey coming to save you. That you weren’t nothing to her.

And then you had woken up to bright lights and beeping machines.

A hand covered your own, catching the athletic tape slipping through your fingers before it could fall to the ground. Your eyes snapped up to meet its owner, softening at Sofia’s shy smile.

“Want some help?”

She gestured towards your arms, shaking the tape in her hand.

Your eyes followed it, and you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth.

The only person who had ever helped you with your tape was Lindsey.

It was frustrating how intertwined you were with her, even when she didn’t want you. How you had shared so much of your life with her while she shared hers with him.

“Or I can get Kelley or Emily,” Sofia said quickly, misinterpreting your hesitation. “You just look like you shouldn’t be alone,”

“No, I,” You shook your head. The words were caught in your throat. Trapped there by an invisible ocean of rushing water surging into your lungs.

You missed Huerta's gesture towards Kelley behind your shoulder or the way several of your teammates were looking at you with worried eyes.

You only noticed when a warm, familiar hand landed on your shoulder, a thumb brushing the little black vein creeping up your neck.

“Hey, Y/n take some deep breaths,” She said, very close to your ear, trying to keep her voice soft and calming. “Em will be back here in a few minutes. She just had to talk to the staff about her jersey,”

You shook your head. “I’m ok Kell,”

She raised her eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and her fingers pressed into the little black vein just above your elbow as Huerta began to do your wrap. “You aren’t, and we both know it,”

You were pretty sure the entire team knew by this point, especially if the pitying looks Alex and Megan were sending your way were anything to go off of. It wasn’t like you were doing a good job of hiding it.

You had never been good at pretending and you were just so tired.

“I just need to make it through pre-game, and I’ll be fine,” You said too quickly. The field had always been your safe space, the game the only place where you felt free. If you could just make it there, then maybe you could postpone the inevitable. Maybe it would give you enough time not thinking for you to pull yourself together.

Kelley let out a long sigh, her fingers squeezing your shoulder. “And then what?”

“I’ll play the game,” You answered automatically, robotically.

“Then what happens after the game?” Kelley pressed, just as Sofia let go of your wrist and caught your other arm.

You instantly ran it through your hair, closing your eyes tightly. “I haven’t really thought that far,”

Sofia tried to keep her eyes on your arm, tried not to look towards the little sliver of skin that appeared when you shifted again and tried not to notice the angry black lines just barely visible below the hem of your jersey.

She swallowed hard, focusing too much on finishing the wrap on your arm.

She knew where marks like that came from, the entire team did. She knew that if she asked you about it, it would likely push you over the edge, the one you were already teetering on.

“Pretending that it doesn’t exist won't make it disappear,” Kelley murmured, her thumb squeezing the place between your shoulder and neck, trying to alleviate the tension she felt there.

You shrugged off her hand, catching the tape from Sofia’s grasp as she made the last turn around your wrist. “What other choice do I have?”

Your voice was cold and thin. Like taking a step on a lake that was barely frozen over. It held a danger Sofia didn't necessarily understand beneath the surface, but it was enough.

She cleared her throat, blinking up at you as she tore the tape roll from the piece secured to your arm, ignoring the glares burning into the side of her face from across the room.

“I think you always have a choice,” She mumbled, pushing herself to stand.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Soph,” Kelley said gently, trying to cut the defender off.

Sofia shook her head. “No. It’s true. We always have a choice,”

A very small smile cracked across your features at her insistence. At her innocence. You very gently squeezed Kelley. Telling her that it was ok. “The problem is, someone else got to make it for me,”

Sofia frowned her eyes darting over your shoulder, and you opened your mouth to continue. To try and explain the mess of a situation you found yourself in. How the only choice you had was to suffer for her.

But you didn’t have to. She took a step forward, catching your hand. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got the youngins and me behind you. No matter what,”

You nodded once, swallowing the lump suddenly caught in your throat.

She squeezed your arm for a long second before moving past you.

You watched her go, your eyes trailing over her form and towards Lindsey who was shooting daggers your way.

Kelley’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “it’s not just the youngins,” She said, sending a glare back toward Lindsey. “You’ve got the entire locker room behind you,”

You shrugged her off, ducking your head away from Lindsey’s burning eyes and moving back towards your locker. “I don’t need anyone to fight. That’s not fair to her,”

You didn’t even notice how your hand instinctively came up to rub at the ever-present twinge in your chest.

“And none of this is fair to you,” Kelley said sternly, her eyes never leaving Lindsey’s.

You sighed. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate Kelley’s protectiveness, it was just that you were so tired, and she was making your plan to ignore the ache in your chest even more difficult than it already was. You didn’t need any more reasons to fall apart, not when you were already struggling to hold the frayed ends of yourself together.

You just needed to make it through the game, and then you could disappear to Antarctica to die in peace.

“Can we just… not?” You muttered, finally letting your exhaustion peek through the cracks in your voice. Kelley’s head snapped towards the sound, and a little part of you instantly hated the vulnerability leaking through your shell. “I just need to get through this game,”

She blew out a long breath of her own, and you knew she wanted to argue. To say that pushing it all down wouldn’t do anyone any good, but she didn't. She nodded once, “Yeah, we can just not,”

******

The game against Korea was… frustrating. More frustrating than you had expected it to be.

You just couldn’t seem to get your head in the game, which was strange because the only part of your life that wasn’t falling apart was the pitch.

Everything just felt off. You couldn’t connect with Lindsey and all 12 of your shots had either pinged off the crossbar or landed safely in the keeper's waiting hands.

It was infuriating, and as the minutes slowly ticked by, you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. Your passes to Alex and Mal were wide, your collection of balls from Sofia was increasingly sloppy and any chance you had at that point was shit. You could feel yourself giving in to your inner turmoil. Giving in more and more to the building pressure and Vlatko’s unhelpful demands.

It was pathetic and you couldn’t help but despise yourself.

By the time the final whistle blew, you were just done. More done than you could ever remember being.

You always sought to find your limit. To push yourself until you couldn’t push yourself anymore. You always claimed you hadn’t found the edge yet.

But here you were, teetering on the wrong side of it.

You hoped maybe a shower would tether you to reality. That the hot water would be a welcome solace. That it would be the balm to the burning ache that settled heavily in your chest.

You hoped that the universe would give you a fucking break for once.

But of course, it couldn’t.

You barely paid attention to the fans as you quickly finished your mandatory lap around the field, and headed towards the tunnel, ignoring the people calling your name as you slipped inside.

The sight that met you made you wish you hadn’t. It made you wish you had pretended to be fine for them.

It made your heart stop.

The sight of him pressing her into the wall, their lips connected. Of his hands heavy on her hips, and her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of his neck. Of his thigh working its way between her legs and the way she leaned into the feeling.

It made your chest bubble and your stomach churn, but you couldn’t force yourself to look away.

You were just… frozen.

You were stuck, wondering if it had looked the same way when you kissed her. If she had melted against you like she melted for him. If the two of you fit as seamlessly as they did. If her head tilted the same way, trying to get a better angle. If she enjoyed his kisses as much as she enjoyed yours.

You could almost imagine her mouth against yours. The passion and love that you could always feel when she kissed you. How it filled you from the tips of your toes to the very top of your ears. It was another part of her that was imprinted on your soul.

It was like watching a trainwreck, and you reveled in the morbid curiosity. In the knife twisting in your chest, slicing through your already torn heart with little care.

She was kissing him where everyone could see them. Where a camera could spot them down the tunnel. Where the cheering of fans had just barely dulled.

It struck you like the wrong note on a guitar.

She was proud to be his.

She was never proud to be yours. Hell, she was never even yours. She was ashamed of you, and she kept you hidden like a dirty little secret.

It was pathetic that you couldn’t see it until now. That you had been too stubborn to accept that she would never want you. Not when she had him.

You were pathetic. Unwanted. Completely unlovable.

The realization was like a grenade exploding in your chest, blowing apart the little pieces of your heart that were left.

“Come on,”

Warm hands were suddenly on your shoulder, and a voice was very close to your ears, but you barely heard it over the roaring in your head or the pounding of your heart.

The hands urged you forward, towards the locker room and away from the scene. It felt like you were underwater, the halls passing too slowly and too quickly all at the same time. The lines of the concrete walls blurred together. Your stomach rolled just as the locker room door swung open, and you were pushed into a seat.

“I can't fucking believe her,” Emily hissed, slamming the door carelessly behind her.

Kelley sighed, settling down beside you and catching your hand. “I can,”

You hadn’t even realized your nails were digging into your chest, clawing at your racing heart, trying to get to the burning ice it was pushing through your veins. Your stomach bubbled, and you could feel the bile climbing to the back of your throat.

“I think I’m going to be sick,”

The words barely left your lips before a trash can was pressed into your chest.

Kelley rubbed your back as you heaved, emptying what little was in your stomach into the trash can. “Let it out, kid,”

You grimaced, pulling away when you were finished, accepting a towel from Emily as she took the trash can. You wiped your mouth, ignoring the pity radiating from her.

You didn’t want her pity. You didn’t want anyone’s pity. You wanted to disappear. To… never have existed, to begin with.

Emily blew out a long breath, settling beside you, her head resting in her palms. “She just… I thought she was sorry. I thought…”

“It’s not your fault,” You croaked, shaking your head.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but your own. If you weren’t so weak then maybe Lindsey would think you were worthy of her.

“No. This is all on Lindsey,” Alex said, her voice edging on exasperation. “I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking,”

You blinked up at them, realizing for the first time that your other teammates had followed you, Emily, and Kelley, back. That you weren’t alone.

It was like a switch flipped in your head. Like the volume of a radio getting turned up to 11. The voices of your teammates blurred together around you in an indignant symphony of too much sound.

You couldn’t handle it. You didn’t have enough emotional fortitude to deal with this. Not in a way that wouldn’t upset them.

Your fingers dug into your temples. You didn’t want them to be involved.

“Stop,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The room froze in response, their pitying gazes sinking into your form.

You didn’t want their pity either.

You cleared your throat, trying to push through the croakiness. “I’m too tired to deal with this shit. I just-“

The words died on your lips as the locker room door swung open, and Lindsey stepped into the room.

Everyone's attention snapped to her, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down her form. You couldn’t help how you traced the flyaway hairs pulled from her tight ponytail, the slight swelling of her lips, or the way her jersey was slightly bunched just above her waist. It was evidence. The final nails in an already closed coffin.

You cleared your throat again, tearing your eyes away from her and examining your still cleat-covered foot, ignoring the suffocating tension that had built in the room. “I think I’m just gonna go to the bus and catch a nap. I’ll shower when we get back to the hotel,”

The words sounded robotic as they left your lips, scratchy in a way that your voice rarely was, almost like someone else was saying them.

They hung in the air for a long minute as you gathered the strength to push yourself to your feet.

“Oh,” Lindsey breathed out, but you ignored it, focusing instead on trying to keep your legs from wobbling as you shoved yourself up.

“I’ll come with you,” Kelley said, mirroring your move stand and casually wrapping an arm around your waist, steadying you. “I’m tired too. A nap might be good,”

A part of you wanted to be annoyed with the defender, but the larger, exhausted part of you was grateful for her protectiveness.

You leaned into her, letting her care and safety wrap around you, as she guided you out of the room.

You knew she couldn’t shield you for forever, but you would take any moment of peace that you could get.

*****

Lindsey stood frozen as you brushed past her, Kelley’s glare daring her to try and stop you.

It filled her with a feeling she didn’t quite understand.

She could feel the angry gazes of her teammates as she trudged back to her locker. They were like sites on a gun, and she was waiting for whatever bullet they wanted to send.

“Do I have something on my face?” She asked toward no one in particular as she pulled off her boots and socks. “Or are we starting a new trend where we stare as people undress,”

“Kelley’s right,” Sofia said, her voice breaking through the murmurs spreading around the locker room. “You’re fuck-“

“No,” Emily interrupted the young defender, with a small shake of her head, looking more tired than Lindsey had ever seen her. “Y/n doesn’t want us to fight,”

“Let her finish Em,” Lindsey spat back, annoyed even if she didn’t have a right to be. Even if she was in the wrong. Being angry was easier than facing the truth. “Get it off your chest. What is Kelley right about?”

“That it would feel more fair if you pretended to give a fuck,” Emily said softly before Sofia could answer, and Emily saw recognition in the other defender's eyes.

It was the least inflammatory thing Kelley had said. The only thing that didn’t indicate malicious intent in Lindsey’s actions. The only true thing that hopefully wouldn’t cause Lindsey to dig her heels in more.

They weren’t sure how much more digging you could take.

“I do give a fuck,” Lindsey hissed, accentuating the irritation she felt at the jab.

Sofia scoffed. “Yes, because kissing your boyfriend just feet from the edge of the tunnel you knew your soulmate was going to walk down is totally giving a fuck,”

Lindsey finally looked up at the young defender, meeting her burning glare.

Her lip curled at the implication. “That wasn’t planned,”

“And you were trying your hardest to stop it weren’t you?” Sofia bit back sarcastically, ignoring Emily’s hand on her arm. The warning to slow down. “That’s why you were pulling him closer to you instead of pushing him away,”

Lindsey's eyebrows furrowed. She hadn’t been expecting the venom in those words. The disdain. Maybe from Kelley, or even Alex, Tobin, and Christen, sure. She expected the vets to be upset because they understood the history she had with you.

She never expected someone new to the team to butt into an already complicated situation. One they clearly didn’t understand.

“What the fuck is your problem,” Lindsey bit back, squinting at the defender. “I don’t know why you think you have the right to comment-“

“Because no one else will,” Sofia growled. “We’re watching Y/n destroy herself and no one will say anything because she cares too much about you to let us. Someone needs to care about her, and it certainly isn’t you,”

“Soph,” Emily attempted to interrupt her, to cut off the building anger crackling off of Lindsey’s form, and to stop Sofia from saying something that you didn’t want Lindsey to know.

“No. Don’t Soph me. She needs to know!” The defender bellowed, her chest heaving as she finally ripped her eyes away from Lindsey. “Fuck whatever convoluted chivalrous act Y/n wants to pretend she’s committing. You’ve seen the-“

“That’s enough.” Emily snapped, authority filling her voice, silencing Huerta before she could finish her sentence.

Huerta met her eyes, and an unspoken conversation passed between them.

Lindsey’s eyes widened at the sentence. What had Emily seen that she hadn’t? She knew you were in pain, that was obvious, but was there something that she wasn’t seeing?

She needed to know.

“No, let her continue since she thinks she knows Y/n so well,” Lindsey said, purposefully raising her eyebrow. Trying to get a reaction. “It’s been what, 2 months since you’ve met her?”

Emily’s blue eyes darted back to her. “Enough,” The defender said, gesturing for Sofia towards the bathroom. “Go take your shower. Vlatko wants you for media,”

Sofia frowned. “But,”

Emily shook her head. “Go,”

Sofia swallowed hard, but nodded, angrily grabbing her change of clothing and doing as she was told.

Both blondes watched as Sofia left, and a charged silence stretched between them.

You had asked Emily not to get involved. You told her you didn’t want her in the middle.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t.

“I told you to be a good human. I told you to have a hard conversation,” Emily said softly, turning back to her own locker, but no one mistook exactly who she was addressing. “Instead you chose to flaunt him in front of her,”

“Like she wasn’t flaunting whatever is going on with her and Sofia,” Lindsey scoffed before she could stop herself. Just saying the words out loud had a strange ache forming just above her heart. One that had nothing to do with the jealousy that bubbled in her stomach any time she saw the attention you gave the defender.

Especially when she was on her knees, wrapping your arms before the game.

Emily paused, gripping her sweatshirt and turning back towards her best friend, an incredulous look plastered across her features. “Do you even fucking hear yourself? You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

Lindsey didn’t answer, instead choosing to pick at a hangnail on her thumb. She didn’t think it was a game, but if you were going to ignore her and Ty wasn’t, then maybe she hadn’t seen the harm. Maybe she wanted you to feel the jealousy bubbling in her veins.

Maybe she hadn’t thought it through.

Emily shook her head. “I’m not even sure it matters. I think you’re out of time,”

She didn’t add that she wasn’t on Lindsey’s side anymore either as she exited the room and that she was pretty sure most of their team echoed her sentiment.

*****

Your fingers dug into the marble countertop of the hotel bathroom, your nails scraping at the surface like they would keep you from falling over the edge. Like the pressure would stop the anvil on your chest from caving your sternum in.

Water pooled on the surface and the floor below you, still dripping from the shower.

You understood why Kelley had been reluctant to leave you while the team went to dinner, but you promised you just wanted a shower. You just wanted to sleep when Lindsey couldn’t follow you.

You dragged your eyes from the gold-plated faucet to the mirror. You paused at the angry back web that began just above the towel around your waist. The pulsing lines that now covered your stomach, tracing back to a solid black circle the size of a baseball right over your heart, continued over your shoulder and down your left arm, nearly past your elbow.

The dark marks were accented by the deep red of your skin, abused by the too-hot water in the shower and your incessant scrubbing.

An Ill thought attempt to remove her mark on you. To get rid of the traces she had left.

Pathetic

You sneered the words in your head, forcing your eyes up the column of your throat and meeting them in the mirror.

They reminded you of a shark's eyes. Cold and unfeeling. Completely soulless.

That was how this would all end, wasn’t it?

The dark mark was just a representation of the punishment the universe was inflicting on you. That Lindsey was inflicting on you for being unworthy after all.

You would lose everything that you were. It would be taken from you, piece by piece until all that was left was a shell only capable of feeling pain and misery.

You once thought that feeling nothing would be worse, but now it was all you longed for to be removed from your emotions. To not feel the pain and agony that had become your closest allies.

You tighten your grip on the counter, hoping it could help steady the building storm in your chest.

You deserved the pain.

Your mother had been telling you since you could walk, but you were just too afraid to listen.

You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable.

It was almost funny how it was her voice cackling in your head.

You shouldn’t have been shocked. Why would Lindsey choose you over him? She wouldn’t.

She didn’t.

You were nothing compared to him. You were nothing at all.

Lindsey had said so herself the night of your World Cup win, as she shoved your lips off of her neck and kicked you out of the closet the two of you were sharing. She told you it was a mistake. Meaningless.

Weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing.

Lindsey’s voice joined your mother’s, repeating the words in your head over and over.

And you blinked up at yourself in the mirror, realizing that your hands had moved to clutch at your ears. To stop the word’s running around your brain.

Your face morphed in the mirror, your mother's sneer replacing your features.

No one would ever want you. You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable.

Nothing.

You felt the walls of the room closing in on you, your mothers cackling laugh echoing through your head so loudly it was shaking the room. Shaking the mirror.

You needed everything to stop moving.

Weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing.

You needed it to stop.

The mirror cracked before your eyes, the pain radiating through your hand only after the tremendous crash drowned out their voices.

It didn’t hurt though. It felt good. But it wasn’t enough.

Your fist collided with the glass again, and again and again. Intent on obliterating the face staring back at you. Intent on destroying your face.

Piece by piece your reflection collapsed, leaving only glittering shards in its place.

You were only satisfied when your entire form disappeared and just a blank white and red wall was left.

You blew out a shuddering breath, stumbling backward and sliding down the wall until you were leaning against the tub, uncaring of the glass pieces prickling at your bare skin.

At least you were feeling something other than your internal pain. At least it was tangible.

You picked up one of the larger shards, catching a blue eye in its reflection.

You were just a mistake. We are nothing. You are nothing.

Lindsey’s words echoed around your brain, pricking at your veins, and your hand unintentionally tightened around the shard.

Why did you think she would pick you?

You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing.

*******

Kelley knew that they should not have left you after the game.

She knew that it was a very bad idea, despite your insistence that you were just going to take a shower and maybe watch some television while they got dinner with the team.

She trusted that you were stable enough to do that. But She could just feel that something bad was going to happen. It was like a snake slithering through her ribs and settling deep in her bones.

As she stepped into your shared hotel room, she knew trusting you had been a very bad idea.

Very, very, very bad.

Her breath caught as she stepped into the hotel room, the open bathroom door immediately caught her attention. Her eyes were drawn to your stoic form, sitting in a towel, propped up against the tub. A sea of glass surrounded you, glinting off the harsh fluorescent lights speckled with little flecks of red. Like islands dotted around the ocean.

But the thing that made her stomach curl was the dark mark on your torso. The epicenter was right at the center of your chest with tentacle-like veins stretching across your abs and shoulder, twisting along your neck and arm, pulsing with bubbling black sludge in time with your heart.

It reminded Kelley of a murder scene from one of the old horror movies Emily liked to watch. Like a horrifically poetic monstrosity of modern art.

“Holy fuck,” Emily breathed out right next to Kelley’s left ear.

She knew you could be self-destructive, but she hadn’t expected this… maybe she should have.

You didn’t move at the sound. You didn’t even look over at them. You just looked… blank and it sent an unpleasant shiver down Emily’s spine.

She hadn’t seen that look on your face since Florida.

“Go get her some clothes, I’m going to try to get her out of here,” Kelley sighed.

You couldn’t stay in a bloody towel especially if you had cut yourself worse than the scratches Kelley could already see, and you couldn’t exactly walk out with all the glass on the floor.

“Yeah,” Emily nodded, squeezing Kelley’s hips before moving around her and further into the hotel room.

Kelley took a long steadying breath, stepped forward, her shoes crunching in the shattered glass, and squatted so she was at eye level with you.

“Hey, Y/n,” She said gently, “How about we get you out of there? Ok?”

You blinked listlessly at her, your head lolling to the side in what Kelley assumed was an acknowledgment.

She took another shaky breath, again tracing down the black vein curing around your neck and down your arm. Besides the dark marks, your chest and torso appeared to be alright. So did your right hand, but your left…

Your knuckles were stained red, dripping maroon droplets to your fingertips, pooling on the ground just beside your hip.

“Y/n,” She tried again. Your hand shifted slightly in return, and that’s when she caught the glint of the glass shard in your palm.

“Hey, sweetie, can you put the glass down for me please?” She asked, swallowing hard to hide the panic threatening to overtake her. She had to be calm for you.

You blinked again, your hand shifting slightly, almost like you couldn’t process her words. Kelley tilted her head, catching your empty eyes.

“Y/n,” Kelley said more sternly, hoping to break through whatever stoic wall you had put in place. “Drop the mirror,”

Silence stretched between you for a long minute, before your fingers unwound from the shard in your hand. It hit the floor with a low tink, splashing in the liquid beside you. Still, Kelley felt the knot in her chest unwind just a little now that the immediate threat was gone.

“Let’s get you up, ok?” She asked, extending a hand to you. “And dressed,”

“The mirror broke,” You croaked out in response, and Kelley frowned.

“I can see that,” She sighed, wiggling her fingers towards you. “let’s get you out of here, and we can call maintenance to take care of it,”

You stared at the outstretched appendage for a long second, as though you were afraid of it before you slowly nodded.

“I’m going to lift you,” she said gently, waiting for you to slowly nod again before she scooped you up and carefully carried you out of the bathroom.

Emily smiled tightly at you as Kelley set you on your feet in front of their bed. Together they ran a towel down your legs to remove any extra glass and helped you into your sweats and t-shirt.

You blew out a long breath when they were finished, settling on the end of the bed and allowing Kelley to guide your hand into her lap. Emily took your other side, idly rubbing your back as you both watched Kelley carefully began to examine the mangled flesh of your hand.

She was methodical as she used a warm washcloth to compress your hand, moving it only to catch little peeks at the gashes in your knuckles and the slice right at the center of your palm.

You flexed your fingers when she pressed just a bit too tightly, hissing in pain.

Both defenders shared a long look. This wasn’t something they could patch up themselves, not when you were still actively bleeding.

“We’re going to have to take you to Dawn,” Kelley said seriously, dabbing another bit of glass from the back of your hand, red oozing out after it. “I think you need stitches,”

You nodded solemnly, unwilling to fight.

There was nothing for you to fight for anyway.

Kelley and Emily shared another worried look. They didn’t like how quiet you were. How still you were. It was somehow worse than when you were vocal about the pain you were in.

It made them wonder about why the mirror had broken, and your intention behind it.

Emily cleared her throat. “Y/n, was this like when you went surfing in Florida?”

You shook your head, biting your lip.

This felt very different from Florida.

“What happened?” Kelley pressed, again peeking at the very deep gash on your palm.

You squinted, trying to think of how to put it into words.

Everything had just been too much, and you wanted your brain to stop. You wanted Lindsey to stop. You wanted the pain in your chest to go away and to feel anything other than the weight of your failure.

“I just wanted it to stop,” You said finally, your voice horse and straining. “I needed it to stop,”

“Alright,” Kelley sighed. “Let’s get you to Dawn so she can clean you up,”

You nodded once again, letting Kelley and Emily guide you to your feet and towards the door.

Dawn would be able to help you.

*****

Emily blew out a long, shaky breath, leaning back into Kelley’s chest. Her eyes never left your form, tucked into a hospital bed.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince you that you needed stitches, especially when Dawn told you that a hospital was your best option.

You had answered all of her and the doctor's questions with shocking honesty and sat perfectly still as an intern stitched and wrapped the mangled flesh of your hand (but not before Kelley snapped a picture of it and the dark lines curling from your chest).

“It’s not a permanent solution, but the medication we’ve given her should help for now,” The doctor explained carefully, gesturing towards you in the window.

Emily hummed in agreement.

The IV they gave you had the dark veins in your neck and shoulder retreating, leaving thin gray behind. It had the color returning to your eyes, even if they were still dull. It was enough and not nearly enough all at once.

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Kelley asked very softly.

The doctor’s shoulders lifted and fell. “It all depends on her soulmate,”

Kelley nodded in understanding.

Soulmate sickness was one of the most mysterious illnesses out there. One of the trickiest to stop. The only one that was dependent on another person's actions.

Lindsey’s actions were killing you.

What was worse was that you were going to let her.

“Thank you,” The older defender said towards the doctor, and he bid them goodbye.

Emily let out another long breath. “How did it come to this?”

She had never imagined that two of her teammates would be in a position like this. That Lindsey would put you in a position like this.

Not with the history the two of you shared.

“Well,” Kelley said, dragging out the word. “Lindsey is afraid of god knows what, and Y/n loves her so much she’s willing to let her be happy, even if it kills her,”

Emily made a low sound in the back of her throat. “We shouldn’t have left her alone,”

Kelley’s arms tightened around her waist, and her nose nudged under Emily’s ear, before she let go, using insistent fingers on Emily’s hips to get her to turn around.

“I don’t know that we could have stopped her,” Kelley said seriously, making eye contact with Emily’s gray. “I know you tried in Portland, but this is uncharted territory, even for her,”

Emily’s eyes darted away from her, but Kelley didn’t let her pull away. “Em, you couldn’t have stopped her,”

Emily nodded slightly. It was just hard. She had been looking out for you since you came to Portland. She was one of the first to know about your… situationship? Friends with benefits arrangement? With Lindsey. She was the first person you told that you had caught feelings.

She saw the fallout the first time.

She knew about the little lines that had littered the insides of your thighs. She knew how they had appeared no matter how hard she had tried to stop them.

But this was different. They had no idea how you had broken the mirror, or how long you sat in the mess. Dawn guessed that the wounds had been open for at least an hour and from the amount of blood in the bathroom. They were just lucky you hadn’t dropped the piece of glass until they got there, or tried to pick the smaller pieces out of your skin.

“I know,” Emily murmured, leaning forward so her forehead touched Kelley’s. “I just hate seeing her like this,”

“I do too,” Kelley agreed softly.

“What do we do?” Emily asked, her voice cracking.

“Tobin and Christen are on their way, so we wait until they get here,” Kelley said, pulling back just slightly to peek at your still sleeping form through the window. “and in the meantime, we do the only thing we can do,”

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and flicked through her contacts. She found the one she was looking for and typed out a simple text, including 3 pictures.

Emily’s hand covered the screen, stopping her from hitting the send button. “Is that a good idea?”

“Do you have a better one?” Kelley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily sighed, shaking her head, and pulling her hand away.

She didn’t have a better idea. She had no idea how to navigate this situation at all.

Kelley pressed the button and then tucked her phone away again.

She turned back towards your sleeping form. “Now, let’s go keep her company,”

Emily hummed. That was all they could do. Keep you company and keep you together until more experienced hands arrived.

Hopefully, you didn’t have any more chunks missing by the time they got there.

You had made it back from the brink of disaster once, now they had to pray you had the will to do it again.

*****

It was safe to say that this night had not gone at all the way Lindsey had planned, not that she had a brilliant plan to begin with.

She let out a breath, glancing down at the man beside her. Her eyes traced his bare chest, down his arms to where their fingers were intertwined.

She didn’t know he was coming. She hadn’t anticipated that he wouldn’t take her ducking and dodging as hints that she didn’t want him to come.

She also didn’t anticipate your reaction. You barely even looked at her, and it had unexpected jealousy creeping in her veins until she let him kiss her in an effort to get you to finally notice. To have some kind of reaction that wasn’t stoicism.

The incident in the locker room after should have been expected. Her two worlds had collided and it ended in destruction that even she couldn’t have predicted.

An unmitigated disaster with you at the epicenter.

Her disaster.

She blew out another long breath.

There was another reason she didn’t push him away, one that was even more difficult for her to acknowledge. Pushing him away would mean admitting that there was something wrong in their relationship. It would raise red flags that she wasn’t ready to face, especially with her parents in town too.

If they knew… she was sure they would reject her.

But in the process of protecting herself, she hurt you. She didn’t know exactly how much, but it was enough to send her teammates into a frenzy.

It was enough to turn the locker room against her, despite your apparent efforts to get them to remain neutral.

She wasn’t surprised, even she was against herself. She just… didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t even know where to start.

Well, that was a lie. She did know where to start. Emily told her where to start. She was just too much of a coward to do it.

It made her hate herself. She didn’t want to hurt you. She never wanted to hurt you.

Her phone dinged from the bedside table, and she couldn’t resist the urge to grab it, hoping that it was you.

It wasn’t.

Still, she swiped Kelley’s notification. She wished she hadn’t.

It was a sentence she would never forget.

I think you should see what you’re doing to her.

Below it were three photos.

The first was of knuckles, torn and jagged. Sliced over and over by a force she didn’t know. The second was a palm cut nearly to the bone, tendons, and muscle peeking from its uneven edges. Both were wet, oozing, fresh.

But it was the 3rd picture that stole the air from her lungs and set her chest on fire. Bubbling, and burning, in an ache that spread with every beat of her heart.

It was a zoomed-out photo of the arm and shoulder attached to the mangled hand. Dark tendrils stretched from the elbow, winding around the arm, over the shoulder. It crept up the neck, and towards a pitch-black bruise right above the person's heart.

You should see what you’re doing to her.

Lindsey shook her head. Right above your heart.

“Fuck,”

“Wha’,” Ty mumbled, sitting up with bleary eyes, catching a glimpse of the grotesque image on the phone. He grabbed the device, pulling it closer. “Shit, is that one of your teammates?”

Lindsey pressed her lips into a thin line, nodding minutely. If she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from coming out.

She knew what lines like that on a person meant.

Kelley and Sofia were right.

She was killing you, and she hadn’t even known it. The bruise on your chest was just an outward manifestation of your decaying soul. Or maybe she knew, but she wasn’t strong or brave enough to stop it. She didn’t give enough of a fuck to stop it before it was too late.

Emily was right too. She knew how to be a good human, and she had chosen not to.

“Babe?” Ty asked gently, and it was then she realized that she was shaking. That the low sob echoing through the hotel room was coming from her.

He dropped the phone and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug just as she fell apart. She buried her face in his chest, gut-wrenching sobs clawed their way from her lips like ripped pieces of her soul and landed against his skin.

She hadn’t cried through any of this. She didn’t deserve to cry, not when she was the one responsible for your pain. For your suffering.

“It’s alright, just let it out,” He murmured into her hair, rocking her gently. “I’ve got you,”

He held her together like a good man… a good person should.

And it made her feel worse because all she could think about was the feeling of your chest, of your arms wrapped around her. Your perfume in her nose and your hushed whispers reminding her that everything would be ok.

She couldn’t be that for you. She couldn’t put her own needs aside, even when you were ripping yourself apart.

Yet, he held her even when she didn’t deserve it. When she deserved for him to throw her away.

Slowly, her sobs turned into sniffles, and she clung to him for dear life, for the last moments she knew he would let her.

She couldn’t hide from reality anymore. She couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“You gonna tell me what this is all about?” He asked softly into her hair, never forcing her out of his chest.

She sucked in a shuttered breath, pulling herself away, wiping her eyes, and looking anywhere but at him.

The time had finally come for the important conversation. For the truth.

“I-“ She gulped around the words caught in her throat. She took another shuddering breath, steeling herself. “I met my soulmate,”

A pregnant pause stretched between them, only broken when he reached across and gently caught her hand, squeezing once.

It took her another long second to gain the courage to look up and need his brown eyes. The resignation she saw there made her hate herself that much more.

“How long ago?” The question was soft, and not at all what Lindsey was expecting.

She bit her lip. “We had the dream almost 4 months ago,”

A small sad smile pulled at his lips, as he caught her phrasing. “But you’ve known her for a lot longer?”

Lindsey nodded.

“We agreed we’d tell each other as soon as it happened,” He said, his voice staying gentle.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said, suddenly finding their intertwined fingers interesting.

She didn’t have more of an explanation. Not one that would be sufficient anyway.

He sighed, running the hand not holding hers through his hair. Of course, he knew they would eventually meet their soulmates, but they had agreed to be open about it when it happened and to make those decisions together.

That plan also hadn’t included another person in as much pain as Lindsey’s soulmate clearly was. It didn’t include them knowing their soulmate before the dream.

But Lindsey did know her soulmate. Those photos had come from someone in the team, and he had a feeling he already knew exactly whose arm it was.

“It’s y/n right?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “How did you…?”

He just chucked, squeezing her hand again.

“It’s the way you two look at each other,” He explained gently, remembering how he noted the closeness Lindsey and you shared, even before he had met you. The blonde was always so at ease with you, even when she wasn’t open with him. He had been surprised at first that you two weren’t soulmates looking for a third. You just… fit too perfectly to not be soulmates. “I’ve thought you were meant to be for a long time,”

“But I’m not gay,” Lindsey grumbled, crossing her arms, and Ty cracked a smile at her, shaking his head. The tension immediately dissipated from the room.

Of course, that’s what the problem was.

“There’s such a thing as bisexuality Linds,” He said as if it were obvious. “And I don’t think whatever label you pick matters when it comes to your soulmate,”

It wasn’t like you got to choose your soulmate, but that fear was still there. She hadn’t considered that she might not have to choose a label. That you weren’t asking her to. All you wanted was the acknowledgment that she felt what you did.

That’s all that you had ever wanted from her.

And she couldn’t even give you that.

But she had him. This incredible person who was actively advocating for you, even when it meant that he would lose her.

She also had you, who was willing to stand aside in agony if it meant she got to be happy.

She shook her head. It wasn’t fair to compare the two of you, but she couldn’t help it. She could never help it. She loved him, but not in the way that she loved you.

She was in love with you. She always had been.

“You’re not mad?” She asked so softly, selfishly. She didn’t want to lose him.

He shook his head, giving her hand another squeeze. “I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m not angry with you,”

More tears left Lindsey’s eyes without her permission, trailing hot paths down her cheeks, and he pulled her back into his chest. “I don’t want you to hate me,”

He sighed, holding her closer, his finger weaving into her hair and gently scratching her scalp. It was a move he knew soothed her. One he had ironically learned from you.

“I could never hate you, Linds,” He murmured the words into her hair, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “Not for this,”

Lindsey let out a wet laugh, pulling away. “Y/n does, and so do most of my teammates,”

Ty carefully brought his hands to her cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe the tears still trailing down her cheeks. “They don’t, they’re just disappointed too,”

Again she was struck by how good he was. By how mature and caring he was. By how good of a father he would make one day.

But his hands didn’t feel as soft as yours did. They didn’t make her feel as safe as yours did.

The longing she felt for you was so deep in her bones it hurt, and the pictures Kelley sent her put the ball in her court.

It was her job to make it right.

“I need to fix it,” She mumbled, sniffling slightly.

He smiled sadly again, leaning forward and placing a very sweet kiss on her forehead before pulling away and standing. “I have faith you will,”

She watched him quietly as he pulled on his shirt, packed his small bag, and slid his shoes onto his feet before he paused by the edge of the bed.

She couldn’t fight the sudden urge to reach out her fingers towards him, to be connected to him for what would most likely be the last time.

He met her halfway, tangling their fingertips together in a slow dance. “If you ever need anything just call alright?” He said, and she felt his honesty. “I’m still your guy,”

His fingers slipped from hers for the final time.

He might be her guy, but she wasn’t his girl.

Not anymore.

She was yours.

She just had to figure out how to tell you that. How to get you to forgive her?

Silence echoed around her as he softly closed the door, and for once she felt totally and completely alone.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through contacts, looking for someone who would tell her what to do.

She paused over Tobin’s contact photo. The forward had always been close to you, and she would know what to do, even if she would be disappointed in Lindsey.

She pressed Tobin’s contact picture, holding the phone up to her ear and closing her eyes.

Tobin was the only one who knew you as well as she knew herself.

The phone rang twice before Tobin’s faint “hello” met her.

“I fucked up,”

*****

Lindsey had never felt more exhausted in her entire life, not even after she had played 120 minutes in 100-degree weather. Not after running endless drills with you in France. Not even after looking all over for you after you disappeared the night of the World Cup.

Never.

It was a fatigue that settled deep in her bones, that followed her through every movement she made. That made it impossible for her to think about anything other than you. A weariness that had nothing to do with her lack of sleep.

Her only saving grace was the warm cup of coffee. She sipped the dark liquid reverently, eyes shifting between her parents and the door every few minutes, waiting for you or Kelley, or Emily to step through the doors.

To prove that the photos she had received last night were a bad dream. A cruel prank.

But mornings after games tended to be slow, and this morning was no different. The few veterans who were in the meal room puttered about lazily, sending looks her way at odd intervals that made her feel like they knew something she didn’t know.

Like they were scolding her without words.

“Sweetie, are you ok?” Her mother’s hand caught her own, gently pulling the coffee cup from her hand.

Lindsey blinked, once, twice, three times as the words filtered through her brain.

Was she ok?

The definitive answer was no, absolutely not.

Her world was crumbling around her, and the only person to blame was herself. She had hurt her soulmate so badly that she didn’t know if she would ever forgive her, and the thought of losing you made it hard to breathe.

She didn’t know how to be without you, and now she was staring that very prospect in the face.

She let out a shaky breath, blue eyes finally finding the courage to meet her mother's gaze.

Concerned eyes she knew would turn cold and hard when she informed them of what she had done. Eyes that would surely reject her when they found out that you were a girl and not the dashing young man they had envisioned for her.

It was like there was a world between them, a chiasm that they didn’t even know existed filled with the admission that she had been lying to them for a long time. Filled with a suffocating silence and words that Lindsey needed to say.

She could hear Tobin in her head. “The first step is honesty. With yourself and everyone else,” and she knew with everything she was that the midfielder turned forward was right.

The only way to undo this mess was to be honest. To untangle each half-truth one at a time. To mend each hurt with kept promises and replace each pretend moment with reality.

The only way she was going to get you back was to confront her fear. That started with this.

“No,” Lindsey said, shaking her head minutely. “I’m not ok. I messed up really bad, and I don’t know if I can fix it,”

Her father frowned. “Is this about the game?”

“You played so well honey. Korea just had a bead on the team's offense,” Her mother added, using her free hand to grab Lindsey’s arm.

She stared at them, slightly dumbfounded at how unseeing they were. How they didn’t seem to know her at all. How they didn’t even pick up on her inner turmoil.

“No. I-“ She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “I had the soulmate dream,”

“Oh,” Lindsey’s mother breathed out, leaning back in her chair.

“By Ty’s lack of presence, I’m assuming it wasn’t with him?” Her father said, sipping his coffee.

She shook her head. “No,”

“Well, we’ll have to meet the young man,” He added flatly, barely looking up from his cup. “He’s part of the family now,”

“It’s not,” She took a gulping breath, before forcing the words past her lips. “My soulmate isn’t a young man,”

Her father looked up, locking eyes with her mother. They shared a long look, the kind that only soulmates having a silent conversation could before her mother gently squeezed her hand.

“Is it Y/n?”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed, entirely unexpecting of her mother’s response. “Wha?… how did you?”

“Sweetie,” Her mother smiled gently at her. “The two of you have been attached at the hip since the moment you met,”

“We’ve been expecting this for a while,” Her father added gruffly.

“And you’re alright with that?” Her voice cracked over the word, and her eyes ducked away.

She knew how they felt about homosexuality. She had heard about it for her entire childhood. She didn’t want to lose them too.

“You don’t get to choose your soulmate,” Her Father said, though he didn’t sound happy about the omission, but his voice lightened. “And Y/n is exceptional,”

Her mother hummed, squeezing her hand again. “Plus Y/n always looks at you like you put the stars up in the sky, and she’s been nothing but polite to us,”

Her father nodded once, and Lindsey took that as his agreement, though he didn’t soften. “An acceptable soulmate,”

Lindsey felt the knot in her chest loosen, though she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about their assessment. She guessed acceptable and exceptional were the best she could expect from her father.

“Now,” Her father said, leaning forward in his chair, setting his coffee on the table. “You said you messed up, tell us what happened,”

She frowned at him, confused by his reaction, and his sudden interest.

“I,” The words were caught in her throat as she finally met her dad's gaze. “I hurt her because I was afraid, and now I’m not sure that I can fix it,”

“Afraid?” Her father grumbled, his eyes suddenly hard. “Of what? Y/n has never done anything to make you question her feelings,”

“Of….” Lindsey took a deep steadying breath, working through his defense of you. Of the strange protectiveness? That had overcome him, while also working through how to phrase her answer. It threw her that they weren’t upset you were her soulmate. “A lot of things. It doesn’t matter now,”

Her father hummed, crossing his arms.

It was a gesture she had seen thousands of times before. One he liked to use after he heard both sides of the story when she would fight with her brother. One he used when she told him she was going to France instead of college.

“Honey, you’re soulmates, but you’re also human,” Her mother hummed. “Give her time to process everything that’s happening, then apologize and let her come to you,”

There was a beat of silence before her father sat back in his chair.

“That girl loves you, and you love her too,” He added as if he was telling her that the defense used double pivots in transition. Like it was an undisputed fact. “You’ll figure it out,”

Lindsey swallowed hard. She knew she loved you, but it was unsettling that everyone else did too. That they all seemed to think that you would love her back after everything she had done.

“Y/n could never stay mad at you for long anyway,” Her mother chuckled, patting her hand, a stark contrast to her father's serious face. “Just go on her terms, and I’m sure she’ll be receptive to you,”

She nodded, more to herself than to them. She could do that. She could wait and do things on your terms. She was sure Kelley and Emily and probably Tobin and Christen wouldn’t settle for anything less.

A long silence stretched between them, before her father cleared his throat, grabbed his coffee, and leaned back into his chair. “Now that that’s settled, do you know who’s starting in the next game? Y/n got several very good shots off last time,”

“I um,” Lindsey shrugged, scratching the back of her neck, thinking of the photos of you in that stupid hospital bed. “I’m not sure,”

She didn’t doubt Vlatko would let you play, even injured, but it made the ache in her chest worse to think about. Jill was bad in her own way, but at least she usually stuck to doctor-recommended injury return protocols.

“Hmm,” Her father hummed, idly sipping his coffee as her mother went back to her tea. “We’ll have to just wait and see then,”

Lindsey nodded again, thinking more about you than about the game.

She would have to wait and see if you would be open to her again. To wait and see if she would ever be able to fix the damage she had caused. To wait for you to be ready.

****

“This isn’t a good idea,” Dawn muttered, carefully wrapping your signature red pre-wrap around the thick white gauze on your hand, and the plastic splint holding your palm in a fixed position. “You should be resting,”

“The field is the only place I can think clearly. It’s better if I play,” Your shoulders lifted and fell. “Does there have to be so much wrapping? It looks more like a club than a hand,”

Christen rolled her eyes at the statement.

She should have expected it with the blase attitude you had dawned since the moment she arrived, but your lack of care for your health was still rather astonishing. She couldn’t exactly blame you though, not after Kelley told her what happened.

At least the parts that the defender knew. You still wouldn’t talk about what happened in the bathroom.

“You sliced into the muscle of your palm. You’re lucky you didn’t lose the mobility in your fingers, and now you have convinced your coach to let you play not even 72 hours later,” Christen sighed, rubbing your right shoulder gently.

“Yes, the gauze has to be this thick, we don’t want any of the stitches to accidentally re-open,” Dawn explained gently.

She didn’t mention that she was adding extra to try and shield you from prying eyes. To keep the commentary teams and the media from speculating about the still gray lines extending past your elbow.

You hummed in understanding, blinking away from the women and to the small paper you had found in your locker.

It wasn’t the first note that had magically appeared, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

It made you feel like you were in high school, passing notes, except you refused to pass back. You didn’t even see the point in reading them. As far as you were concerned, you and Lindsey had nothing to say to each other anyway.

But still, she kept trying.

It was weird, and you felt a little like a yo-yo being yanked back and forth. You assumed it was from pity. You didn’t want her pity.

“Did she send you another one?” Christen asked, her voice going soft.

You swallowed hard, holding the little blue paper between your fingers, avoiding the loopy pen marks it wore. “Yep,”

“Do you want me to see what it says?” She pressed carefully.

You held it out toward the forward in a familiar gesture. She had read all of the notes. “If you want,”

It was the same response you had given to all the little notes. The same… unbothered indifference.

She very slowly reached out and plucked the note from your hand, opening it and reading over the words. “Do you want to know what it says?”

“Nope,” You popped the p, pulling your hand away as Dawn tore off the pre-wrap and pressed it to your arm. “If I wanted to know, I would have read it,”

“Let me get you a pill and you can go warm up,” Dawn said, pushing herself to her feet.

“It’s mostly the same as the others,” Christen continued as if you hadn’t said you didn’t care. “She wonders if you’ve read any of the notes,”

“There have been 10 and you and Tobin have given me the gist of them all,” You muttered, accepting the small, metallic-colored pill from dawn, popping it in your mouth, and swallowing it with a sip of water.

You just didn’t see the point in reading them. Lindsey never kept her word anyway.

“Plus, it’s not like it’ll make this go away,” You waved your hand over your chest, vaguely gesturing to where you knew the deep bruise sat.

You glanced at Dawn who nodded. “The only known cure to soulmate sickness is physical contact,”

“So there’s no point,” You shrugged, pushing yourself off the table. “Am I free to go now?”

“Yes,” Dawn said. “Just take it easy, alright,”

You paused at the door. “What’s the point, I’m going to die anyway. Why not have fun first,”

Christen grimaced as the door slammed shut. “I hate it when she jokes like that,”

“I’m not sure it was a joke,” Dawn mumbled, making eye contact with the forward. “The medication will slow it down, but it can’t stop the effects entirely,”

The apathy. The emptiness in your eyes. The loss of your sunny personality.

You would lose yourself entirely, and then you would lose your life.

******

You knew the dream was coming before you fell asleep. You could feel it.

It felt like a punishment from the universe. A punishment for ignoring Lindsey’s notes. Punishment for letting Kelley, Emily, Christen, and Tobin run interference so you didn’t have to deal with her. A punishment for protecting yourself.

But it still disoriented you when your eyes flickered open.

You would never get used to the too-bright colors or the way the light blended into a too-vivid scene that felt real. A scene that made you suddenly feel right. Whole.

A scene you knew was a lie.

You glanced around the room. A long, open space with little cubbies and nameplates. It was familiar. A locker room like any other.

You didn’t feel like reading the names to see what part of your past it was from. You just didn’t… care.

You let out a long breath, shuffling back into the empty cubby and turning sideways. You tucked your knees to your chest, rested your chin on them, and closed your eyes. You were content to wait it out. To pretend.

The bench creaked beside you, but you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have to to know who it was. The warmth that filled your hollow chest was enough. Plus there was only one human on the planet who could crash your dreams.

Lindsey hesitantly cleared her throat, and you heard her shift beside you. “Good game,”

You hummed.

It was a good game. Very good.

You ended up with a first-half hat trick thanks to a stellar cross from Huerta and an assist from Rose. It helped that Vlatko hadn’t let you and Lindsey on the field at the same time (she came on at the half when you were subbed out).

You were sure how much of that was his doing and how much was demanded by the team and medical staff.

You had barely seen Lindsey in general, other than when she was on the bench, and you knew that was done by design. When Emily and Kelley weren’t guarding you, it seemed that one of your teammates (especially Sanchez, Trinity, and Huerta) would suddenly need something from you when Lindsey tried to approach.

It was weird and blatantly obvious, but you deeply appreciated their efforts.

Lindsey cleared her throat again, and you felt her shift closer to you. “I-… look, I’m sorry. For everything,”

You let a beat of silence pass between you, unsure if you were even going to respond. Your eyes slowly dragged open and you met tired blue. They seemed to echo the dull throb that had settled in before the game. The same hollowness that just wouldn’t go away.

A part of you wondered what everything meant.

Was she sorry for all of the nights you had shared? All of the intimate moments you had never shared with anyone else? That you would never share with anyone else.

Or maybe she was just sorry she would never care for you in the way you cared for her.

“Me too,” You said softly. The words felt heavy, laced with truth and pain and utter defeat.

Not because of the pain she had put you through, but because she regretted you.

You were sorry because you weren’t good enough.

You looked away from her burning gaze, back towards the wood of your little cubby. It felt like she was dissecting you. Like she was looking through you and straight into your thoughts.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lindsey said, her voice deadly serious. “This is all on me,”

“Not all of it,” You shrugged, lifting your left hand and wiggling your fingers. It was strange because you hadn’t been able to move them for the last week, and you expected the thick gauze to follow you into your dreams.

That part was all on you, no matter what your friends wanted to believe.

Lindsey sighed, and you knew she wanted to argue with you, but part of you hoped she wouldn’t. You were too tired to fight.

“How did it happen?” She asked so softly you almost missed it.

You blinked, and your eyes flickered back to hers. “What?”

Lindsey swallowed hard, her throat visibly gulping. “Kelley sent me the picture, but no one will tell me what happened,”

You frowned. You wanted to say nothing had happened. You wanted to yell and scream at Kelley, even if you knew she meant well. You wanted to admonish Lindsey for not already knowing the reason, even if it wasn’t fair.

“She shouldn’t have,”

Lindsey’s hand caught your forearm, sliding down your skin to connect your hands. “Y/n, please,”

It sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth through your veins that hadn’t been there in god knows how long.

It chipped away at the ice encasing your heart.

You blew out a long breath, ripping your eyes from her, leaning your head back so it hit the locker with a low thump, and fixing your eyes on the stupid photoshopped picture Emily had fixed on the roof of your cubby after a bad Portland practice. It was of the three of you, your heads photoshopped onto a picture of the Teenage mutant ninja turtles.

“A mirror broke,” You said slowly, forcing the words around the sudden lump in your throat. You hadn’t told anyone what happened yet, Christen and Tobin included. “And I got cut. That wasn’t your fault, no matter what Kelley wants to believe,”

Lindsey made a low sound like she knew that your explanation wasn’t the whole story like she knew you weren’t being honest,

but she didn’t push. Not like she usually would.

She sat back on the bench, and squeezed your hand once, twice, three times.

And it made you feel like you were 17 again, sitting in France holding on for dear life as your world was rocked to its core. It made you feel like you were 22, sitting in this very locker room working through your growing feelings. It made you feel safe and loved in a way that no one else could.

That thought made you sick to your stomach because you knew it wasn’t real.

The mark on your chest was proof enough of that.

But you didn’t see the harm in accepting the comfort. In letting her let you just exist. Your eyes slid closed and for the first time in weeks, you felt at peace.

Who cared if it wasn’t real? At least you weren’t in pain anymore.

“What about the bruise?” She asked after several long minutes, and you blinked back at her again, noting the way her eyebrows furrowed guiltily.

Her eyes were fixed on the little Thorns logo sitting just above your heart.

Your shoulders lifted and fell nonchalantly. “Yeah. That’s kinda on you,”

“Is it..-“ She paused, shaking her head. “Can I see it?”

Your nose scrunched. “I’d have to take my shirt off, so no. I don’t even know if it’d be in this stupid dream,”

It was too… vulnerable. Too exposed for you. Far more unprotected than you were willing to be with Lindsey.

Plus if the universe wanted her to see it, then you would have appeared in an outfit you couldn’t hide it in, not your old training uniform.

“You weren’t supposed to see it in the first place,” Yoh muttered, closing your eyes and laying your head back on the locker with a thump.

You heard Lindsey swallow hard, and you knew she wanted to argue with you. Even if you weren’t quite sure what she could argue.

But she didn’t.

Her hand squeezed yours in three slow pulses again. “Alright,”

You felt the know you didn’t know was in your chest loosen, and your shoulders relaxed as you leaned farther back into the wooden cubby.

At least you weren’t in pain, and in the quiet locker room, it was easy to let Lindsey’s soft breathing lull you into a near doze.

It reminded you of all the times you had listened to her breathing when you couldn’t sleep, or when you woke up from a nightmare. All the times it was a sign that you were safe.

Now you just supposed it was like the beeping of a life support machine. Something to prolong the inevitable.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to feel this at ease.

*****

Camp had ended far less eventfully than it had started, and you were incredibly grateful for that.

The final morning passed with little fanfare, and you felt more rested than you had in months, and before you knew it Christen and Tobin were guiding you through the terminal towards a plane headed directly to LA.

You hadn’t seen Lindsey at all, but as you grabbed your headphones from your bag, you saw the little blue Post-it tucked just inside the zipper.

You gently grabbed the little paper, pulled out your headphones too, and shoved the bag back under your seat. You stared at it, running your fingers over the indent of your name across the folded front in Lindsey’s loopy writing.

“Are you going to read this one?” Tobin asked you, pretending that she wasn’t watching the way you were fixated on the note.

Your shoulders lifted and fell. You hadn’t decided if you were going to open it yet. “Do you know how it got into my bag?”

“Nope,” Tobin shook her head once. “I was on door duty, and Kelley and Emily were more worried that you ate,”

You nodded, your tongue poking past your lips. Christen wouldn’t have made the assist, she made her opinion clear, even after you told her about the latest dream.

You looked back down at the small note.

You hadn’t cared about them up to this point. You didn’t want to know what Lindsey had to say. You just wanted her to let you die in peace. You just wanted her to be happy and to not hurt anymore.

But she wasn’t happy.

Sitting in the Thorns locker room had also filled you with a strange sense of nostalgia. You missed how simple it was before you recognized your feelings. How easy it was to be around her and to feel safe.

You missed being her friend, intimacy be damned.

And no matter how stupid you thought the high school note-passing tactic was, you were suddenly curious if it would change those new feelings. If it would tell you why.

“Do you want me to read it?” Tobin asked, reaching for the small, blue paper.

You pulled it away. “No,”

“Ok,” She agreed easily, settling back into her seat, pretending to not watch you. “Christen put the others in the bottom of your bag if you want to read them too,”

You hummed at the offhand comment, flipping the little blue note over once more before slowly working it open.

You cracked a smile at the little sketch of a teenage mutant ninja turtle at the top, just below where it was sealed. It was Leonardo and Rafael with a small pizza slice between them.

Hey Raf,

I forgot that we used to call each other that until I saw Emily’s drawing in your old locker. I kinda miss the days of being the TMNT 3. I definitely miss you.

Chris says you don’t read my notes, and I can’t blame you. I just want you to know I choose you. I want you to know I love you.

You didn’t finish reading it.

You didn’t want to.

“What did she say?” Christen asked you gently from Tobin's other side.

“Some bullshit about her choosing me,” You shrugged again, crumbling the paper and tossing it towards her. “Was it in all the other ones too, or did you just omit it from the synopses?”

She caught it easily, flattening the paper against her thigh, frowning as she scanned over the page. “I just figured It wasn’t the main message,”

“And what was?” You grumbled. “That now that everyone knows she fucked up she suddenly wants me?”

“I think the team is more concerned with you deciding you’d rather die,” Tobin said, carefully grabbing the note and reading it after Christen was done. “But go on,”

You frowned at the pair, suddenly wondering whose side they were on.

“I don’t want her to care out of some sense of obligation or guilt,” You grit out the words. “I’m not a consolation prize,”

“No,” Christen agreed carefully. “You’re not a consolation prize to her,”

“I think Lindsey has cared for a long time,” Tobin added, catching your hand. “She was just afraid to show it,”

“Could have fucking fooled me,” You snorted. “She chooses me or whatever but she still hasn’t told her boyfriend that I’m her soulmate,”

Tobin paused, sending a look over her shoulder to Christen. You frowned.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Tobin blew out a long breath. “Lindsey called me the night you broke your hand. We thought she told you,”

Your eyes widened.

Lindsey called them. Lindsey talked to them. They talked to her.

“What did she want?” The words forced themselves through your grit teeth, misplaced anger rushing through you and flushing your cheeks.

“Take a deep breath,” Christen said, her voice as calming as you had ever heard it. The same voice she had used each time your unstable emotions threatened to overtake you.

They were yet another growing symptom of soulmate sickness.

“I don’t want to,” You bit back. “Tell me,”

Tobin held her hands up in defense. “Most of it isn’t my story to tell,”

You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, blowing it slowly out of your mouth, feeling your anger bleed out with it. “But?”

“Lindsey is trying. She just doesn’t know where to start,” Tobin said very slowly, choosing her words carefully.

“I will not be her second choice,” You muttered, picking at the gauze still wrapped tightly around your hand. “you’re supposed to be on my side,”

“We are on your side. The side of you living long enough to go to your third World Cup and win,” Christen said, reaching across Tobin to catch your hand and prevent you from unraveling the bandage. “And we’re not telling you to forgive her,”

You blew out another breath. “Then what are you telling me?”

“You don’t have to forgive Lindsey,” Tobin said. “I’m not even saying you have to entertain the idea. All I mean is that you’re tied for life, and when you’re ready, she has a lot of making up to do. When you’re ready, it’s on her to fix it. She knows it, and is willing to do it.”

“Hence the stupid fucking notes?” You asked softly, your eyebrows furrowing. The notes were such a Lindsey thing to do. A way to see how open you were to her without pushing. A way to let you come to her.

“Hence the notes,” Tobin nodded. “She didn’t know where to start,”

You closed your eyes tightly, leaning back in your seat. “I wish Kelley hadn’t sent her that fucking picture. Then she still wouldn’t care,”

“Kelley sent it because she is insanely protective,” Christen explained as if it was obvious. “You were hurting and she wanted the person responsible to know,”

“You’re like her little sister,” Tobin added unhelpfully.

You shook your head. “It’s not Lindsey’s fault I hurt my hand, and I wish everyone would fucking see that,”

“Then who’s fault was it?” Christen pressed, keeping her voice gentle.

You let out a breath, counting to 10 in your head, trying to still the sudden rush of thoughts and emotions that came from the simple question.

The truth was that punching that mirror was all on you. It was your inability to regulate your emotions. Your inability to accept the truth. Your inability to be enough.

You were frustrated that Kelley had shown Lindsey the aftermath, and even more annoyed that it suddenly changed the way Lindsey felt.

She shouldn’t be guilted into loving you.

You weren’t worthy of it, no matter how much admitting it made the place on your chest throb.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said, your voice rough with the unspoken tsunami of emotions in your chest, your uninjured hand rubbing idly at the spot right above your heart.

“You never want to talk about it,” Christen said, her voice edging in desperation.

You sighed, peeling your eyes open to meet her green. “Lindsey deserves to be happy,”

The defeat in your voice shocked even you as it reached your ears, and the pure honesty made the sludge in your stomach rock.

Tobin used a hand to catch your chin, forcing you to look at her. “And what about you? Don’t you deserve happiness too?”

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a thin line. “I don’t matter,”

You slipped your headphones over your ears before they could push the issue before they could make you unpack that feeling, and stared out the window.

“I’ve never mattered,”

****

You bit the inside of your lip, glaring at the colorful painting that sat on your therapist's wall, picking at the edge of the gauze on your hand.

There was less of it now, making it look more like a hand than a club, but the stitches were still sensitive enough that you couldn’t go without it.

“I don’t understand your question,” You muttered, your eyes tracing across the red sunset in the painting, refusing to look at her.

It was a bad habit you had picked up in the three weeks you had been seeing her. It was easier to talk to her when you didn’t have to look at her, not that you had done much talking anyway.

“You’ve told me a lot of wonderful things about Lindsey. You’ve told me about the incredible intimacy that the two of you share. I wanted to know who initiated it,” Clarke said, and you could feel her watching you.

You frowned. “Like who kissed who first?”

It felt like one of those stupid media fan questions. Like the ones you had gotten on Twitter after the game, demanding to know how you hurt your hand and asking for your opinion on the fan theories the whole ordeal had created.

It wasn’t like the normal probing questions Clarke asked you.

She hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “Is that when you think the emotional intimacy between you started?”

You bit your lip at the question. You and Lindsey had been linked far before you kissed.

“No,” You said, dragging your eyes to meet hers. “That was pretty instant,”

You remembered being taken with Lindsey from the first moment you saw her, even though she had ripped all of the laces out of her shoe on a stupid escalator. It was mid-morning when her and her mother arrived at the apartment, and you were so anxious you couldn’t get words past your lips.

You had waved at her instead, and you were pretty sure she thought you were entirely unable to talk for the first two weeks you had known her.

“Tell me about it?” Clarke asked very gently, noting the faraway look in your eyes in her notes.

It was the look you always got when you talked about Lindsey, even if all you told her in your discussions were good things.

“I…” You paused, biting your lips, trying to think of the moment that you and Lindsey became inseparable. It had to have been after your first hard practice. “It was like two weeks after she moved into the apartment. We were watching Disney movies in French to try and learn the language,”

It was a semi-truth. You had performed horribly on the field and wanted a distraction. All that was on was the lion king and it was extra money to watch it in English. She walked into your soft sniffles and sat down next to you out of obligation.

Lindsey felt bad for you. She always pitied you. It was why she sat next to you on the couch that night.

“And it progressed from there?” Clarke pressed, leaning forward.

“Yeah, we just kinda clicked,” You hummed, scratching the back of your neck with your good hand. It was more than that. That night, she made you smile and you made her laugh. It was the spark of your entire relationship, and it only got stronger when the pressure from the coaches increased. “And then with all the stuff that was happening…”

Clarke nodded understandingly and it made you feel like she could hear the thoughts racing through your head. “Trauma has a way of bonding people,”

“Yeah,” You nodded, scratching the gray lines on your neck a little harder. When things continued to get worse, you and Lindsey found comfort in each other. She was the only one who made you feel safe. “We started sharing a bed because I was having nightmares. It was comforting to have her there,”

“She made you feel safe,” Clarke supplied easily.

“Always,” You agreed. It didn’t matter what was happening at practice, when you were together, you knew it would all be ok. “It was like she was shielding me from all the bullshit. Our bed was our safe place,”

“Is that why you kissed for the first time?”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

The truth was that the first kiss you shared was… blurry.

“No,” You said slowly. “That didn’t happen for a while,”

Clarke hummed. “Who initiated?”

“I…-,” Your eyebrows furrowed. You remembered laying on too-fancy sheets, sharing a bowl of unsalted popcorn. You remembered the sunset peeking through the window and soft laughter. You remember leaning against her strong frame, and her hand running through your hair. You remembered the taste of her lips and the way you moved together, but you didn’t know who leaned in first. “I can’t remember actually,”

Admitting it made your heart race, and your chest ache. How could you not remember such a fundamental moment in your relationship?

“That’s ok,” Charlie said, reaching out and placing a steadying hand on your knee. “How about we talk about something else for a bit,”

You swallowed hard, dropping the hand on your neck and going back to picking at the edge of the gauze on your hand. “Ok,”

“Let’s talk about the night you broke the mirror,”

Your back instantly straightened. “What about that night?”

It came out more harshly than you intended. Colder. Guarded.

You hadn’t even told Tobin and Christen about that night yet, despite their prying.

“Well, we haven’t discussed it yet,” Clarke said carefully. “And it’s the reason you have to see me 3 times a week for the next month,”

“What do you want to know?” You sighed, leaning forward.

Being honest was the only way to not have to see Clarke. The only way for her to sign the papers that would get rid of the Minute limit that had been placed on you.

“How did the mirror break?” Clarke asked you softly.

You bit your lip, picking the edge of the gauze with a little more vigor. “I punched it,”

It pained you to say the words out loud and had blood rushing to your cheeks.

“With the intention of hurting yourself?”

You blinked up at Clarke’s question. The same question they asked you in the hospital.

“No,” You said sternly, shaking your head once. “I just… needed the sound in my head to stop,”

“What kind of sound?”

You squinted at the probing question. The answer was just so difficult to put into words. It was difficult for you to even wrap your head around it.

There was so much noise constantly surrounding you, and it had all been too much. You wanted Lindsey to stop, and your family to stop. You just wanted everything to… stop.

“My thoughts,” You mumbled, catching the edge of the gauze and pulling just a bit too tight. “I was spiraling and I couldn’t get them to stop. I just wanted it to be quiet so I could breathe,”

Clarke nodded, jotting more notes down in her little book. “You were having a panic attack,”

“I guess,” Your shoulders lifted and fell and your eyes returned to the stupid painting in her corner. You weren’t sure if it was panic, or if it was an outward manifestation of your disgust in yourself.

“Alright,” She said finally as the little timer on the table went off. “I have some homework for you that I think will be helpful before our next session…-“

You tuned out her words, focusing instead on the place in the picture where the orange sunset met the deep black of the sea. Where they swirled together.

You wished you were there instead of here.

******

You knew the dream was coming. The universe had been kind, allowing you to ignore your soulmate for 5 weeks. You knew it couldn’t last forever, especially after Clarke’s homework.

The only way for you to complete it was to talk to her, and you fucking refused to respond via note.

You sighed, pressing your face further into the soft down pillow beneath your head, your hand closing around too-fancy sheets. They were cool to the touch, something that never happened in real life.

You felt eyes on the side of your face, tracing the little scar that existed by your eye (from an unfortunate encounter with a Spanish defender when you were 17), down your cheek, and sweeping across your nose to your lips.

It was familiar. A scene that had played hundreds of times.

But it no longer filled you with the warm fuzzy feeling it used to, even if the ache in your chest dulled.

“It’s rude to stare,” You mumbled, reluctantly forcing your eyes open to look at Lindsey.

Lindsey smirked, her dimples showing. “Some people consider it rude not to stare at a masterpiece,”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself to sit up. “That line was played out the first time you used it,”

It was familiar in a way that had butterflies flying in your stomach, and unease settling firmly on your chest.

Linsey chuckled. “It still made you blush back then”

You shrugged, running your hand through your hair, noting that you weren’t wearing the brace and gauze that had become part of your wardrobe. You wiggled your fingers experimentally in front of your face, and you could feel Lindsey watching them too.

“This is where it started,” She said softly, and your eyes snapped toward her.

“Kinda,”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, dragging your eyes back toward your hand. It was easier to admit things when you didn’t have to look at the person you were talking to. It was easier to follow Clarke’s advice and be honest.

“An equipment closet in Paris is where this phase of our relationship kicked off,”

You said the words softly, but they felt heavy. It was like a rock splashing into a pond, leaving only ripples in its wake.

You expected Lindsey to argue with you. To say that the night of the World Cup wasn’t where this whole thing started. That this room was the place where you shared most of your firsts. Your first feelings, your first kiss, your first…time.

But in that closet, she handed you your first heartbreak, and you weren’t sure you had ever even begun to piece back the little shards of your heart.

She swallowed hard. “I wish that night ended differently. I wish I responded differently. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I should have held you tighter, instead of pushing you away,”

It surprised you that she didn’t try to deny it, and you tried to smother the warm feeling that started to bloom in your chest. All you ever wanted was for her to acknowledge what the two of you shared.

“You won’t even acknowledge we’re soulmates,” You countered, none of the fire you expected in your voice. You just sounded… defeated.

Lindsey frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked.

It irritated you that everyone knew things that you didn’t know. It irritated you that they were talking about you without you there.

“I broke up with Ty. I told him and my parents,”

“Oh,” You breathed out.

“I’m not telling you to get you to forgive me. I just thought you should know,” She said too quickly as if she was afraid she would break the tenuous truce between you.

Silence stretched between you as you digested the information. Digesting that Tobin and Christen already knew. Digesting that Lindsey really had chosen you.

You could hear Clarke’s voice in your head, reminding you of the homework she had assigned. The homework to talk about your feelings.

“You know, it used to make me feel special that you didn’t want other people to know,” You said slowly, and you could feel Lindsey’s eyes on your face. “Then it just made me feel dirty,”

She reached out and caught your arm. “I’m sorry,”

You felt it in your bones. Her honesty, her… desperation for you to believe her.

You did believe her, but you didn’t want her apology. “You keep saying that,”

“You deserve so much more than what I gave you,” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, her anguish cracking your heart.

You shook your head. “I don’t need your pity, Lindsey. You don’t have to do this because you’re guilty,”

She frowned. “Guilty?”

You chuckled. “That’s what our relationship is based on isn’t it?”

She only told them because she had to. Because she felt bad. Because Kelley had exposed Lindsey’s impact on you.

“Absolutely not!” Lindsey exclaimed, wiggling your arm, trying to get you to look at her.

“It is though,” You pressed out, despite the bitter taste of the words on your tongue. “You never would have been my friend if you didn’t walk in on me crying,”

She never would have been your friend if she didn’t feel some… obligation to not leave you alone that first night. She felt sorry for you because you were incapable of making friends with anyone else on the French squad.

“Y/n,” She said more softly, shifting over and ducking so you had to look at her. “I had been working up the courage to talk to you since I moved in,”

Her eyes burned into yours, and her honesty sent shivers down your spine.

“It was never because you felt bad for me?” You asked again.

“No,”

You nodded, your mind flying to try and catch up with the admission. With the knowledge that maybe she had wanted you as long as you wanted her. Maybe this wasn’t just her response to pity and guilt.

Maybe she could help you with your therapy homework after all.

“Did you kiss me first, or did I kiss you?” You suddenly asked the question.

The tension between you dissipated instantly, and Lindsey’s laugh was like bells, drawing a smile to your features.

Lindsey’s head tilted. “You can’t remember?”

You shook your head once. “No, and I hate that I can’t,”

A small smile played across her lips. “I guess it kinda makes sense. It’s a trick question,”

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind thought back to that night.

You could practically feel the indent of her hand as it rested on your waist, holding you steady. You could feel her soft breaths puffing onto your lips. You could smell her perfume, mixed with something just so… Lindsey.

You remembered your eyes meeting hers, and how the blue was just a sliver around her dilated pupils. You remembered them getting closer like you were magnets drawn together.

“We leaned in at the same time,”

“We did,” She agreed, watching as you leaned back into the pillows. “So technically it was mutual,”

You hummed, running a hand through your hair, accidentally flashing the dark mark that had crept back up your shoulder as your shirt shifted. You felt her eyes boring into it immediately.

“Can I,” She paused, clearing her throat. “Can I see the mark?”

You tensed immediately, and you pulled away from her, your shoulders curling in on themselves. “You’ve already seen it,”

She sat before you frozen, her hand hanging in the air like she was still holding on to you and flipped it over, and held it out to you. “Y/n, please?”

You stared at it with untrusting eyes.

Talking to Lindsey was one thing, but showing her the damage she caused was another.

But then again, didn’t she have the right to see it? That was Kelley’s defense after all.

You let out a long breath, sending her a very stiff nod. It took you another second to gather the courage to pull your shirt over your head.

Lindsey gasped as soon as the dark mark on your chest and the spider web of veins that sprouted from it was on display, but she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t even roam the newly visible skin.

She was doing this at your pace, you realized.

“You can look,” You said, your voice shaking slightly.

Lindsey swallowed and very slowly brought her eyes up to gaze at your chest. Her eyes felt heavy, but they didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t feel objectified, but you never had with her.

“Can I,” She cleared her throat. “Can I touch it? They say that helps?”

You blinked at her, once, twice, before you slowly nodded.

It was something Clarke had suggested. She said physical contact in dreams was a good way to start, especially if you weren’t averse to Lindsey’s touch.

The problem you saw was that you were the complete opposite. You were addicted to the way her skin felt on yours and the instant sense of safety it brought you.

Lindsey wasn’t safe anymore, and you needed to remember that.

She moved slowly as she brought her hand to your chest like you were a frightened animal she was afraid would snap at her.

You sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers gently landed on the deep purple skin right above your heart, and tingles sprouted from the place the two of you met.

It made your chest burn, like a flame blasting away at the ice that had coated your veins.

It was better than a hug, and you could practically feel your worry and pain being sucked from your chest.

“Does it-…” You cleared your throat, your cheeks turning red. “Do you feel it too?”

Lindsey frowned, and you rolled your eyes. “Do you feel the ache too?”

“I do,” She bit her lip and nodded. She let her fingers wander up your chest, tracing the thick black line that extended to your neck.“But I doubt it’s anywhere close to what you feel. I never meant to cause you pain,”

You hissed when she pressed into the line slightly too hard, in the place Kelley always did. “Then why did you?”

She paused, slowly dragging her hand down across your shoulder and down your arm, following the web of lines.

“I was afraid, and that made me selfish,”

“Of?” You pressed, catching her hand.

Her eyes blinked up to meet yours, and you saw something you didn’t often see. Insecurity. “My family, the media, myself,”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You could understand fear. She used Ty and the word “friendship” as a shield. You had just been an inadvertent casualty.

That didn’t change overnight. It also didn’t make it ok, but it was nice to understand.

“We would have gotten through it,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Together,”

You would have done anything for her. You still would. You were willing to die so she could be happy after all.

“We’ll get through this too,” She squeezed your hand three times slowly. “I’ll do whatever I have to make it up to you,”

“No more notes. We’re not in high school,” You cracked a small smile leaning back into the pillows. “Just text me instead,”

“I can do that,” She agreed, squeezing your hand again, and you believed her.

*****

You knew physical contact was supposed to help with the symptoms of soulmate sickness, you just never really thought about how much it would help.

You felt like you were walking on air. Like the weight in your chest had eased, even slightly. Even smiling didn’t take as much effort as it had for the last several weeks.

Maybe that was why Freya had let you help the goalies practice (fucking finally), and even join in on the last few minutes of the scrimmage that ended practice.

You just felt… good. (But you were loath to admit it was mostly because of the dream you shared with Lindsey).

You expected that was what Freya wanted to talk to you about as practice came to a close. You hadn’t expected her to instead lay out a plan that put your physical and mental health at the forefront of the team. You hadn’t expected her to care.

Shock followed you to the locker room, as you sat down heavily in front of your locker.

“You good?” Tobin asked, settling beside you as you untied your cleats. It was so much easier now that you didn’t have to have the plastic splint under the gauze still wrapping your hand.

“Hmm,” You hummed, pulling out your shin guards and sticking them inside your cleats.

Tobin waited for you to continue, sharing a look with Christen and raising her eyebrow when you did not.

“What was that about?” Christen prompted gently.

You blew out a breath, “Freya is excusing me from the game. I have to be in Portland but I don’t have to go to the stadium,”

Christen settled down on your other side. “And how do you feel about that?”

You shrugged. “I’m not cleared to play, so I’m not surprised,”

You could feel them watching you, but you stared at your cleats.

“That doesn’t answer the question kid,” Tobin pressed, her hand leaning heavily on your shoulder, her thumb barely brushing the little scar that had replaced part of the black line that used to extend up your neck. “How do you feel?”

“It’s not good to bottle it all up,” Christen added gently.

Your good hand clenched on your thigh. You didn’t want to talk about how you felt. It would make you think about Lindsey and how irritating it was that her just touching you in a dream was enough to have the dark marks retreating. It was irritating that she was texting you now like things were normal.

“I don’t bottle,” You grit out.

“You do though,” Tobin said, squeezing your shoulder.

“You hide all your feelings away to not distract us, or to protect us and it gets so bad that you finally explode,” Christen added, much more softly, carefully uncurling your fingers from your leg and pressing your hand flat. “Look where it’s gotten you,”

“This wasn’t from bottling,” You muttered, finally dragging your eyes up to meet theirs. “I just wanted everything to stop,”

“And punching a mirror and a wall over and over again helped with that?” Tobin quirked an eyebrow up at you.

You swallowed hard and looked away. “Sometimes physical pain is better, more tangible than what’s going on in my head. But this is different,”

“You don’t know what you want to do?” Tobin asked.

You shook your head once, biting your lip. “No,”

“You’ll probably get to hang out in one of the boxes if you go,” Christen reasoned, weaving your fingers together, her other hand rubbing smooth circles into your back. You leaned into the familiar comfort, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Mark will probably have Lindsey on the field for the whole game,” You agreed, suddenly finding your socks interesting. “And she’s already texting me about coffee and stuff,”

Christen and Tobin shared another long look behind your back.

“How do you feel about that?” Christen asked you gently, and you wanted to roll your eyes at the repeated question. She was so much like Clarke in that way.

You shrugged again. “It’s just weird,”

“What? Being back in the friend zone? Or dancing the line between the two again?” Tobin snorted, and you sent her a sideways glance.

“Her being nice to me,” you grumbled, pulling on your sweats and throwing your training gear into your bag. “I’m not sure if she’s being honest or not,”

“And you’re not sure if you want to find out?” Christen finished your thought for you as if she was reading your mind, ignoring Tobin.

You nodded. “It’s different in dreams, and I’m not ready to do it in real life yet,”

Frankly, you were just happy that the paper notes had stopped.

But the rest was more… complicated.

Everything in the dreams felt real. It felt right. You felt safe. But you knew you weren’t.

You were just waiting for her to turn on you again. Or for her to suggest you go back to the way things were before. You didn’t want to be a dirty little secret again.

So far, you had taken several small steps, each one talked out in detail with Clarke.

You weren’t ready to see Lindsey in person. Or to be back in Portland. Your soul was still healing, but unlike your hands, the thick stitches you had used to pull yourself back together weren’t as healed.

But you didn’t really have a choice in one.

“Being back in Portland will be a lot,” Tobin said, and you blinked at the sheer understanding you heard there.

“I know,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I think being inside providence park will be too overwhelming,”

“So you’re just going to hang out at the hotel?” Christen asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Neither she nor Tobin liked the idea of you being alone. Not after everything that had happened. Especially when you would be in a city that meant so much to the two of you.

Your shoulder lifted and fell for a third time. “Yeah, probably,”

Bailey would most likely set up a PT appointment for you or something, and then you would take notes on the game. You would avoid windows and reminders of where you were, and you would take solace in the genericness of the hotel. You would pretend you were in some other City somewhere.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m not going to mention it to Lindsey yet…”

A part of you didn’t want to give her a chance to talk you into it, and a part of you wanted to throw her slightly off-kilter to see how she would respond. To see if she would reject you.

Christen and Tobin shared another look.

“Whatever you want to do kid,” Tobin agreed, though you could tell she wasn’t entirely sold on your plan, and Christen squeezed your hand.

You needed to take little steps. And that’s exactly what you would do.

******

Your nose scrunched as you came into consciousness.

You dragged your eyes open, immediately noting the clay-colored rocks across from you, and that you were leaning against a boulder the size of a car. You glanced around, seeing the tips of mountains beyond the slight narrowing of the trail, and you assumed a lookout lay beyond the gorge you had woken up in.

You let out a long sigh, pressing back into the smooth stone. It wasn’t warm, despite the sun on your face, and you wondered if that was a product of the fan on the airplane blowing on your face. You wondered if it was enough to create the artificial breeze dancing through your hair and across your cheeks.

It was strange that you and Lindsey always met in dreams while you were flying.

You took another deep breath, before pushing yourself to your feet.

Your eyebrows furrowed as hiking boots you didn’t own crunched against the trail, and your hand trailed against smooth, cool stones uninhibited by the bandage that had been a mainstay in your wardrobe since the incident nearly 6 weeks ago.

This had to be Lindsey’s dream.

You shook your head and slowly made your way through the crevice. You had to turn sideways to make it through the almost too-small crack in the rock to get to the open space just beyond.

The sight that met you was enough to take your breath away.

The gorge opened into a small clearing that ended in a cliff.

Mountains stretched out past the little cliff’s edge, nearly disappearing in the too-blue sky. You could see the ocean just beyond the farthest mountain peak, and if you squinted, you were sure you could spot a boat.

And there, seated on the edge of the cliff was Lindsey. She was the most beautiful sight of all.

Blind hair blowing slightly in the wind, her small tank top showing off her strong arms.

It was painful how gorgeous she was.

But Clarke said it was good to let yourself feel those feelings. That it was good for you to recognize and acknowledge your attraction to her, even if it made you feel conflicted.

You shook your head, and very slowly made your way towards her.

“So this is what you’re always talking about huh?” You asked, settling down beside her, your legs hanging over the edge.

You felt her shift next to you, but you didn’t turn away from the view.

“Makes it worth it, right?” She countered, and you could hear the roughness in her voice, but you could also feel her smirk.

You hated hiking and refused to go on almost all of her outings (the sunrise hike in Hawaii didn’t count, especially with the kiss you had received in the early morning sun), but she always told you that the effort was with it because of the view you got to see. You still weren’t convinced.

Just like you weren’t convinced that all the work with Lindsey would turn out in the end. But Tobin has once felt the same way about Christen, and they turned out ok.

You shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’d have to know how many miles away the car is first,”

“I think it was like 4 and a half miles?” She scratched the back of her neck, and you felt her eyes on your face.

“Hmm,” You hummed, cracking a smile. “Way too many for me,”

“You run like 8 in a game and more during practice,” Lindsey chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently.

“But that’s different,” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “It’s a goal-directed activity,”

She raised an eyebrow at you, her dimples showing, but she didn’t argue with you.

She scooted closer to you and in another world you would have laid your head on her shoulder, but you didn’t. You couldn’t allow yourself to get too comfortable.

“Are you on the flight?” Lindsey asked you, breaking the short silence that settled between you.

“Yeah,” You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing. You knew that the flight was early, but you hadn't expected her to be asleep. Not when Mark was obsessed with morning practices. “Doesn’t your practice start soon?”

“I have no clue,” She muttered, rubbing the back of her neck again. “But we can grab coffee after it ends? Your flight should get to Portland and you should have time to get unpacked and stuff,”

“You probably want to go to Dutch Bros,” You said teasingly.

“No,” She said instantly, smirking. “Grounded NW has grown on me,”

Your eyes widened at the name of your favorite coffee shop near the stadium. “You said you hated them,”

“It’s grown on me,” She shrugged, and you swore you saw a small blush crawling up her cheeks. “And it reminds me of you,”

You felt heat bleed into your cheeks. “You said you didn’t like their oat milk,”

“No. I didn’t like the barista flirting with you,” Lindsey explained, catching your hand. “Tyler doesn’t work there anymore,”

You frowned. You remembered the tall boy and his twitchy nature. You remembered his asking too many questions as he took your order. You didn’t remember flirting though… then again you had been with Lindsey. You rarely paid attention to other things when she was with you.

The last time you had been there, he wanted to know all about your upcoming game. Lindsey hadn’t liked that. She practically dragged you out of the small shop after he got a little too close when he passed you your drink.

“You were jealous?” You asked.

She bit her lip. “Of course I was jealous. People hit on you all the time, and you weren’t mine.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” You countered immediately, but she was already nodding.

“No, it was mine,” Lindsey agreed. “But that didn’t make it easier,”

It was nice to know that she shared the feelings you did. That she had wanted you.

At least it made sense why she hated your favorite coffee shop now.

“Is that why you ordered the most complicated drink I’ve ever heard?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

It was strange how she always ordered some crazy iced coffee thing when you went there with her instead of her normal oat milk late.

“Yeah,” She said sheepishly, the red in her cheeks traveling up towards her ears. “It was Emily’s idea really, but it kept him busy any time we went there,”

You snorted. “I thought that was why he was always glaring at you,”

“You get stuck in your head,” Lindsey shrugged again.

You shrugged too, settling into silence. It was a true statement after all. You spent a good portion of your life trapped in your head, oblivious to the world around you.

“So coffee after practice?” She asked suddenly.

You nodded, looking away. You wouldn’t outright lie, but you wouldn’t be completely honest either.

“Cool,” She smiled widely at you, and you noticed the edges of the cliff turning slightly blurry. “See you in Portland,”

“Yeah,” You said as she faded before you and the dream came to a close.

*****

Lindsey was very confused.

She thought that you were making progress. The two of you were cordial in dreams, and it felt like it used to feel when she was with you. You were willingly texting with her. You weren’t avoiding her anymore.

It was easy to be with you. And the two of you were working your way towards being friends again.

At least she thought that.

But now she wasn’t sure. Not with you not even being on the roster for practice, much less the game.

“Freya excused her,” Tobin shrugged, trying to push past Lindsey towards the field.

It was like a pin popping the balloon in her chest. The little pocket of happiness she had been operating in was gone in an instant.

You had just seen her. Why didn’t you tell her? Why did you agree to coffee if you never intended on going?

Lindsey caught her arm. “But she’s ok? She’s not hurt?”

“Yeah,” Tobin said dismissively, trying to pull her arm out of Lindsey’s grip. “She’s not cleared for the game and is bored of being the goalie’s kicker,”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed. Players who couldn’t play usually didn’t travel with the team. “But she said she was on the plane?”

“She’s doing PT at the hotel,” Christen cut in, appearing behind Tobin’s shoulder. Lindsey noted the sudden stiffness in the midfielder turned forwards form and the worry in Christen’s eyes.

And suddenly Lindsey understood. They didn’t want to leave you alone. They didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do something stupid.

“Maybe we should get out of the tunnel,” Christen said, gesturing toward the now-empty LA locker room. Lindsey nodded and allowed them to guide her into the room and towards the bench.

She dutifully sat down and began wringing her hands together. “She didn’t want to see me, right?”

She couldn’t help the hurt that colored her tone. She didn’t expect you to outright lie to her.

“Not exactly,” Christen said as the door closed behind them.

“She isn’t cleared to play,” Tobin explained, settling down beside her. “Even if the dreams are helping the marks on her chest,”

“I didn’t know she wasn’t cleared. She didn’t tell me it was that bad,” Lindsey grumbled, looking away from the pair, and the eyes starting to watch them now that they were blocking the door to the locker room.

Christen’s hand was gentle against her shoulder, and her words were even softer. “Lindsey, when has she ever?”

The midfielder blew out a long breath.

Christen was right. You were more apt to suffer in silence than burden one of them. But you told her that you were in pain. You showed her and she still ignored it. She ignored every warning sign and stomped over you like you didn’t matter.

And suddenly, the strange ending to your shared dream made sense. As did the way you talked around going to coffee with her in your texts.

You were trying to protect yourself from getting hurt by her recklessness again.

She swallowed hard, looking away from Christen. “But the mark on her chest has been better?”

She needed to know that she was at least helping in some way to repair the damage she had caused.

“It’s fading slowly,” Tobin said, leaning a warm, grounding hand on her back. “She's irritated because the med staff won’t clear her until the stitches come out,”

“And Clarke won’t clear her until she talks about her emotions,” Christen added, her voice even.

“So seeing me was too much?” Lindsey said, more pained than she intended, running a hand through her hair. “But we’ve been fine in the dreams,”

Christen settled beside her, and gently took her hand. “The two of you were ok in a dream before, and then she got hurt again,”

“Plus she literally plans out what to say to you in those dreams,” Tobin snorted, shaking her head. “It's most of what she and her therapist talk about,”

“So real life was too? What, real?” Lindsey muttered bitterly.

Tobin sighed, squeezing her shoulder again. “It brings up too many emotions and being here is already hard for her,”

“But we were finally interacting like we did before,” Lindsey ran another hand through her hair, dragging it down her face. “Things were finally back to the way they were before,”

Christen’s eyes tightened like she was choosing her next words carefully. “Have you considered that going back to the way things were before might be slightly overwhelming for her?”

Lindsey let the words sink in, but she didn’t understand them.

“Why? All I did was ask her for coffee. It was a friendly date,”

She felt more than she saw Christen and Tobin share a long look.

“You didn’t call it a date,” Christen said softly, and Lindsey felt her shoulders sink. “And the two of you were never just friends,”

Of course that was the crux of the issue. You told her it would be.

You didn’t want to be a dirty secret. You wanted her to acknowledge what was between you, and not just in the dreams.

But you weren’t more than friends. Yet.

“We were friends who occasionally slept together,”

The words felt clinical on her tongue.

“Psh occasionally,” Tobin snorted, ignoring Christen’s glare.

“A relationship is about more than sex Lindsey,” The striker said sharply, leaving no room for argument. “You two have been emotionally intimate for a very long time. You were intimate even before you started sleeping together,”

“We weren’t,” Lindsey protested, but Tobin squeezed her shoulder, stopping her before she could deny you yet again.

“You were,” The midfielder turned striker said softly, “The only reason I could move into the apartment in France was because you two had been sharing a bed for months,”

Lindsey groaned. “We weren’t sleeping together yet though,”

“No,” Christen agreed. “But emotionally, you were far closer than friends are. You were basically dating without a label. You went to restaurants and places alone just so you could spend time together. You held each other during sleep and cuddled every chance you got. You washed each other's hair, and You didn’t keep any secrets. The list goes on,”

“It felt like your entire world was falling apart when she left, right?” Tobin added, watching as recognition flashed through her blue eyes. “That feeling doesn’t come from just being friends. Each time you deny that, you deny her,”

It felt like a knife in Lindsey’s chest, slowly deflating her.

The two of you had done all of those things. You moved with and around each other like you were one person. Like you belonged. And when the elevator door shut on your face, she had never felt so much pain in her entire life. It was like cracks were rippling through her entire being. She didn’t know how to be without you. How to cope.

And it solidified how much she did not know how to fix this. It was a minefield of hurt she didn’t know how to navigate.

“I know that,” Lindsey muttered, running a frustrated hand through her hair. “That’s not what I mean,”

“But that’s what Y/n hears. It’s what she’s always heard,” Christen said, her words heavy. A sense of finality in her tone.

It made Lindsey’s chest ache because you had told her that too. She knew you felt dirty. Used. Dispensable to her, even if you weren’t.

“I know,” She murmured, dragging her hand from her hair and down her face. “I just…-“

She paused, digging her palm into her eye, and Tobin and Christen waited for her to get her thought out.

“How am I supposed to fix it if she won’t even come see me,”

The, in reality, was implied.

Christen sighed, reaching out to take Lindsey’s hand and carefully pull it from her face. The midfielder met her eyes with burning blue. “We know she hated the notes, but maybe a coffee delivery will be different,”

“And a “date of sorts,” Tobin added, her lips pulling into a half smile. “Facetime has a screen share feature so you can both watch the game,”

Lindsey nodded seriously, her face morphing into the one it did when she was watching film. Focused and intent. You didn’t want to see her in person, but a Facetime date would mean that she technically wasn’t.

“I can handle that,” Lindsey hummed, pushing herself to her feet, motivated now that she had a solid plan.

“Hey Linds,”

“Yeah?” She asked, pausing by the door and turning to look at them.

“If you hurt her again, we won’t stop Kelley this time,” Christen said seriously.

“I know,” She nodded. “Sonnett said the same thing. I’m not going to hurt her,”

******

It was decidedly strange being left alone.

You had been surrounded by people since the incident, whether it was Tobin and Christen or your new teammates doing their best to be there for you (even if they had no clue what was going on).

You understood it, and deeply appreciated their efforts to protect you (even from yourself), but as you sat on your hotel room bed, adamantly not looking out the window at the view, you realized how much you had missed solitude.

It was something you talked about with Clarke during the team's morning walk-through.

It felt like the first time in a long time that you had space to just think. To process what it felt like to be back in a city that meant so very much to you.

The hotel room was generic enough that you could pretend you were in a different place, even if that didn’t follow Clarke’s advice. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to pretend anymore.

You understood that avoiding Lindsey and Portland wouldn’t fix anything.

But you were afraid.

Lindsey had always made logic go out the window. She made you feel things in your chest and your stomach that made your brain want to believe her. It made you want to set aside all of the warning bells in your brain.

At least in the dreams, you knew that none of it was real.

It didn’t matter if you trusted her in the dreams, because you knew you couldn’t when you opened your eyes.

The only way for her to earn that trust back was through actions, but you weren’t ready for that. Even if you were…

It didn’t change anything.

You blew out a long breath, settling back on the bed and flicking through the channels on the television to find the one showing the game.

Freya’s only contingency for sitting out was that you watched how everyone performed. You could do that. You were planning on doing it anyway.

You hummed as the LA Lineup flashed onto the screen, excited to see both Christen and Tobin starting and interested that they would have Charley up top with them. You wondered if Christen or her would take the 9 spot, or if they would swap out.

It would be a tough task for any of the back line to take them on, and the midfield would be a major factor.

You were also curious about what midfield Portland would put up to try and slow them down. Of course, Lindsey would be starting, or so you thought. Your easy smile flipped on itself when you saw that Lindsey was not in the starting 11. She wasn’t even on the roster.

The commentators were steering clear of mentioning it beyond that you were out with an injury and Lindsey’s absence was excused for personal reasons.

You didn’t get a chance to ponder what the fuck personal reasons were before there was a soft knock at your door.

You stared at the door for a long minute, flipping between the roster and it several times.

It would be an entirely Lindsey thing to do to show up at your door, despite your efforts to avoid her. It was an entirely Lindsey thing to be stubborn enough not to give up, despite how much you wanted her to.

You let out a long sigh and pushed yourself to your feet. You paused when you reached the door, your hand on the shiny handle, steeling yourself to come face-to-face with her.

You cracked the door open, peeking out, expecting to see her standing there.

Except she wasn’t.

All that was there was a to-go coffee cup with a sticky note attached to the front.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled, pulling the door open wide enough so you could pick it up, before retreating into your room.

You plucked the little orange note off the front, squinting at the loopy writing.

I know you hated the notes, but I wanted to respect your space.

FaceTime coffee date?

You couldn’t help but chuckle at it, both irritated and endeared at the same time.

It was thoughtful and reminded you of a Lindsey you knew before the World Cup.

You sat back on the bed, taking a hesitant sip of the drink she had gotten you and sticking the sticky beside you on the nightstand.

It was your favorite drink.

You weren’t sure why you expected anything less.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and flipped to Lindsey's contact, pausing for just a second, stealing your resolve yet again before pressing it.

It only rang twice before Lindsey’s face appeared on your screen.

“Hey,” She smiled brilliantly at you, but you still saw the hint of nerves in her eyes.

You smiled back, holding your cup up to the camera. “Hey, thanks for the coffee,”

“Couldn’t have a coffee date without coffee.” She held hers up too, and you noticed the little Dutch bros logo that differed from the grounded NW that was stamped on your cup. “I figured we could pull up a tandem stream and watch the game together,”

You scratched the back of your neck, as the screen shifted to a wide shot of warmups. “Like a Skype?”

“There’s a program,” Lindsey shrugged, and the camera shifted as she grabbed what you assumed was her computer. “I can send you a link,”

You squinted at the phone, glancing back up at your television. There were still 20 minutes before the game.

“How did you know what room I was in?” You asked, trying not to focus on how attractive the way Lindsey pulled her lip between her teeth was. How attractive the lines of her neck were.

She looked up at you, her blue eyes burning through you even through the screen.

“One of the equipment interns is a big fan,” She shrugged. “Cost me an autograph, but she was willing to help,”

You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted as you shook your head. “Becca isn’t a fan, but her girlfriend Chloe is,”

“Ah, I see,” Lindsey hummed, and it felt like old times again. It sent butterflies fluttering in your chest and dread pulsing through your stomach. “I found the link, I’ll send it to you,”

It reminded you that you couldn’t trust her. That she would only hurt you because you were her secret. You just didn’t understand why she wanted to connect with you here.

Why she was trying so hard when she would just reject you again anyway.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked her suddenly.

She blinked back towards you. “Doing what?”

“Pretending like you care,” You shrugged, picking at a loose thread on your shorts, looking away from your phone. “You don’t have to put in the effort because you feel guilty or whatever. I don’t blame you for this,”

You held your still gauze-covered hand up so she could see it.

She frowned, holding your gaze. “I’m not doing this because I feel guilty, and I’m not pretending,”

“Then why?”

“I…,” Red colored her cheeks and she swallowed her, but she didn’t look away from you like you expected her to. “I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time. You are my soulmate, and I have a lot of making up to do. I know that in-person stuff is probably overwhelming, so I thought this was a good compromise,”

You stared at her like she had grown an extra head.

She actually listened to what you told her and then thought about it. For the first time, she was taking your feelings into account, instead of barreling through them.

It was so…weird.

Of course, she had always been thoughtful, but never about your boundaries. She had always stubbornly edged her way past the very few that there were, and you let her because you wanted her to.

And it was frustrating because you couldn’t read her emotions through the phone. You didn’t want to do whatever this was on a screen.

“The stream will be a little grainy, but it’ll work,” she cleared her throat. “I just sent it to you,”

You sighed but pulled out your laptop and opened the link she sent you. She was right, it was grainy, especially compared to the stream you had going on the television.

“This is stupid,” You said as the stream glitched. “Where are you?”

“Um, the conference room,” Lindsey muttered, scratching the back of her neck. “Why?”

You sucked your lip between your teeth, biting down bone too gently, hoping that the little sting would help you think. That it would help you focus.

Were you ready to see her in person? Probably not, but when had you ever been ready for Lindsey?

You were almost there.

And a FaceTime, when no one knew, was too reminiscent of the way things had been. It felt too secretive. Too… hidden.

“I'm coming down,” You said, deciding in an instant that if you were going to do this, you weren’t going to be her secret. If you were going to do this, if she was going to prove that things would be different, then she was going to have to do it in public where people could see you. “Watching soccer through a screen sucks when the stadium is only like 3 minutes away,”

She froze, her mouth opening and closing a few times as you slipped off of the bed and pulled on a pair of slides (laces were still a bitch when you couldn’t move your dominant hand).

It was cool enough out that you wouldn’t look out of place in your sweats, so you slid your room key and your wallet into your pocket before heading out the door.

“You don’t have to,” She mumbled, running a hand through her hair as the door slammed behind you. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,”

You glanced at the screen. “I don’t. I just…,”

You let out a long breath, trying to figure out how to explain it to her.

“This feels too much like when we watched the premier leagues finals together on FaceTime because Arod gave me a concussion when we played against Utah,” You said, using your back to push through the door that separated the hallway and the stairway.

It was an unfortunate accident that kept you off the national team roster for the SheBelieves Cup, but that hadn’t stopped you and Lindsey from watching the Arsenal vs. Barça game.

You had opened your apartment door to find soup waiting for you instead of coffee, and a little note that felt so similar. It was perfect, until Emily interrupted your date, and suddenly you were just Lindsey’s friend again.

You swallowed, looking away from the phone as you descended down the steps. “I don’t want things to be like they were before,”

Everyone was in agreement that you couldn’t go back to the way things were. It would kill you more than the soulmate sickness already was.

You would be past the point of no return if you weren’t there already.

She paused on the other end of the phone, a very serious look crossing her features.

“I don’t either,” She said, her eyebrows furrowing the same way they did in the locker room when she figured out how to break through the other team's defense. “I know you hated the notes, but what I said in them was true. I choose you, and I’ll do whatever I need to prove it to you,”

You sighed but didn’t argue back, pausing on the landing between the 2nd floor and the 1st.

There was no point anyway. Now with Lindsey so… stubbornly determined.

“Meet me in the lobby,” You breathed out, not giving her a chance to say anything before you hung up.

Your heart beat erratically in your chest, and you gripped the railing, trying to calm the storm of butterflies and ice fighting in your stomach.

You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, counting to four in your head before blowing it out for eight, repeating the cycle until the gray edges of your vision returned.

A simple phrase shouldn’t set you so on edge.

You shouldn’t care so much about meaningless words.

You dropped your head, resting it against the cool wall of the stairwell.

It was ok that you cared, you reminded yourself. You could hear Clarke’s words in your head. It was normal, natural to have feelings.

You let out another long breath, debating on leaving Lindsey waiting for you in the lobby and running back up to your room.

But you couldn’t.

That would be cruel, and you should at least put up as much effort as Lindsey was.

Nothing would be resolved if you didn’t, and you couldn’t live in limbo for forever, no matter how much your anxiety said you could.

While seeing Lindsey in person was a terrifying prospect, it was a step you needed to take. Not for her, but for yourself.

You didn’t need her to choose you, because you were choosing yourself. And you wouldn’t let fear rule you.

You wouldn’t let resignation either.

Tobin was right, you deserved to let yourself have 5 seconds of bravery.

******

You stared out at the crowd at Providence park, spotted with red and roses and little flecks of pink from the fans who had followed you from LA.

It was a sight you knew would never get old, even if it sent a little pang through your chest now.

You remembered the last time you had sat in this box, it was so… different.

Everything in your universe was falling apart, and you were convinced no one cared. It was the last game of the season, and all you could think about was escaping. Running away to a country where even Emily and Tobin couldn’t hunt you down.

Now though, here you sat staring at the glinting of the fans in the stadium like it was the light at the end of a tunnel.

You just hoped it wasn’t a train.

“It’s kinda weird,” You mumbled, leaning forward and resting both of your elbows on the edge of the box.

It made you feel almost nostalgic.

“Hmm?” Lindsey hummed from two seats away from you, her eyes never leaving the field.

She had been strangely…normal with you since you met her in the lobby. Her smile had been shy, and you did your best not to stare at the little sliver of skin above the low-hanging waist of her sweatpants.

She held the door for you when you came in the back entrance of the stadium and made small talk all through the 3-minute walk.

It set you at ease and that fucking terrified you.

“The last time I was up here, Tobin scored a hatty and now everyone is booing her,” You said, your eyes following the winger as she slid a ball in to Christen, and your nose scrunching when Bixby barely made the save.

Lindsey snorted, and shook her head, clearly remembering the game you were talking about. “That was a rough game for the Spirit. Rosie was pissed,”

Your lips tilted up.

Rosie had been so so spicy, especially during the second half of the game. With the frustration on her side, you couldn’t blame her.

“Emily almost got a red card because she couldn’t stop her without fouling her,”

Lindsey shook her head, mirroring your expression. “Rosie is a fucking pain in the ass to defend against,”

Rosie was a magician on the ball, and even with the Thorns up by 4 in that game, she had been tearing the defense apart.

“The worst,” You agreed, and a strange look crossed Lindsey’s face.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” She picked at a string on her sweatpants, and your eyes zeroed in on the movement. “There were some definite sighs of relief when you weren’t on the roster,”

It brought you back to where you were. To how… strained things between you and Lindsey were.

To how it was all your fault.

She said that she didn’t pity you, but you didn’t believe her.

The only reason she was doing any of this was because she felt guilty. Your friends had turned against her, and the only way for them to forgive her was for her to try to fix it with you.

And you were too pathetic to even give her a real chance.

“I guess I’m a pain in the ass in a lot of ways, huh?”

Her head snapped at the self-deprecating comment, one that she knew stretched much deeper than your soccer-playing ability.

She knew it wasn’t the perfect time to bring up heavy things, but she couldn’t let the moment pass.

“You’re not,” Lindsey said vehemently, reaching across the empty seat between you to catch your non injured hand and tangle your fingers together. “I hurt you. You are allowed to process that however, you need to do that. I love you and I will do whatever I can to show you that and to earn my shot with you. I wasted my first one, but I will not waste the second one. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

It was everything you ever wanted her to say. What you had dreamed about her saying for years. It made you feel tingly all over and you were sure that you were blushing. It helped to set you at ease and sent alarm bells ringing in your ears at the same time.

You tore your eyes away from her, looking back out at the fans.

Red banners fluttered around the crowd, mixing with the yellows and greens of the stadium like warning signs.

Like the signs your subconscious had tried to show you the first time around.

“Don’t,” You bit out, snatching your hand away, pushing yourself up from the stadium chair, and putting as much space between the two of you as you could in the cramped box. You ran your gauzed hand through your hair, ignoring the way it pulled uncomfortably at the strands.

She paused, watching you with careful eyes like you were a wounded animal backed into a corner.

“Don’t what?” She asked, keeping her voice level.

The tone irritated you.

It reminded you too much of Christen.

You shook your head, climbing the steps of the box and stepping into the hallway.

“Y/n wait,” Lindsey called after you.

But you didn’t. You hung a left and headed off with no particular direction in mind, trusting your feet to take you to a spot you could breathe.

“Y/n” she called again, her voice closer than it was, but you didn’t stop for her, hanging another right and a left down the maze of hallways. “Where are you going?”

You didn’t answer.

Her feet pounded the concrete floor as she raced to catch up with you, but you ignored it.

You didn’t care if she followed you.

“Y/n,” She caught your arm, pulling you to a stop and forcing you to look at her. “Don’t what?”

You looked up and met her burning blue eyes. “Don't say things you don’t mean because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do. You might not pity me, but you’re only trying to fix this because you feel guilty or whatever. You’re only saying you love me because you know what will happen if you don’t. I just,”

You tore your eyes away, stepping as far from her as the small hallway would allow, your back landing heavily against the army-green wall. “I would rather let the hole in my chest kill me than have you pretending to feel things you don’t,”

She stepped into your space, and you molded yourself against the cool brick.

“I’m not pretending,” She said, leaning close to you, her eyes boring into yours with fire and passion, and honesty. “I love you Y/n. Not because Kelley sent me a photo or because the team hates me. I’ve been in love with you since we were 18. I was just too much of a coward to admit it. I have fucked this up so badly, I know, but how do I get it through your thick skull that there has never been a moment where I didn’t love you,”

You swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder towards the random staff lingering.

She followed your gaze before all of her attention was back on you. “And this time, I don’t care who knows. You’re my soulmate,”

And there it was, the moment you had been waiting for since you opened your eyes to see her childhood playground so many months ago.

“I love you too,”

The words fell shakily from your lips. A shuttering promise, filled with devotion and heaviness.

An unspoken Always passed between you.

“I know,” She nodded once, stepping back from your personal space, and straightening her Office t-shirt. Though she didn’t drop your hand. “Do you wanna watch the rest of the game?”

You swallowed again. “Yeah,”

Her smile turned shy as she began to lead you back toward the box to watch the rest of the game. “And maybe we can do a movie night or something after?”

You squeezed her hand in three slow pulses, hoping to slow your racing heart. “Maybe,”

You didn’t necessarily trust her, but you also weren’t ready for the night to end yet.

It was a dangerous idea, but the ache in your chest made you hesitant to leave Lindsey. Hesitant to deny her.

You wouldn’t have to decide until the end of the game anyway.

******

As it turned out, making the decision to go with Lindsey back to the hotel after the game was… easier than you’d like to admit.

Just being with her made the lingering throb in your chest ease. It neutralized the burning acid in your stomach and slowly started to thaw the ice in your veins.

The feeling was addictive and so much stronger than the ones you got from the dreams.

It terrified you, but you were unwilling to stop yet.

It was like she was a campfire. You needed to be close to her warmth, but you knew too much exposure would leave you smelling like smoke. That getting too close would burn you.

It was why you had been so hesitant to see her in person.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to deny her.

You had never been able to deny her.

But being with her this time felt distinctly different.

She held your hand throughout the rest of the game, and on the walk back to the hotel. She hadn’t let go until you used the little key card to scan into your room.

She had taken the double bed that you hadn’t used as you cued up an old USMNT game, kicking her shoes off and settling against the pillows.

It just felt… odd to have so much space between the two of you, even if you were slightly grateful for it. And while you appreciated Lindsey trying to respect a boundary she was unsure of, it felt… forced.

You looked away from the screen, and towards Lindsey, your hands opening and closing several times trying to figure out where you were supposed to sit.

You had 2 options.

You could either sit beside her on the extra bed, or across from her on the one you had already used.

While sitting on your bed would give you the solace of not having to fight your instincts, just the idea of sitting with her was making the hole in your chest crackle with the possibility of relief. It was like holding water out to a person trapped in the desert. Like a life raft floating inches from a drowning man.

She made eye contact with you, gently patting the space beside her, seemingly seeing your struggle. “I won’t bite. I won’t even cuddle you if you don’t want me to. We’re doing this at your pace,”

You slowly stepped towards her, settling next to her on the bed. You slowly leaned back on the pillows, dangerously close to her arm.

She kept her word and didn’t move a muscle, even as you wiggled beside her trying to get comfortable.

You sighed, closing your eyes as Alexie Lala’s voice droned on about things you didn’t care about, trying not to think about how warm Lindsey was.

You took three deep breaths, making your choice. You were going to have to be the one to make the first move.

You pushed your doubt from your mind and slowly moved your hand towards the best radiating from Lindsey. Your fingers gently descended her arm until you met her hand, and you wound your fingers together.

Lindsey welcomed the touch, and you shouldn’t have been surprised since you had been holding hands all night, but you were.

It should have scared you how perfectly the two of you fit together, but it didn’t.

You had always fit together perfectly. Maybe that was why you were soulmates.

She squeezed your fingers and shifted so her shoulder could be a more comfortable pillow for your head.

“Comfy?” She asked when you wiggled again, pressing more tightly against her as you got cozy.

You hummed, opening your eyes to look at the game on the screen.

She brought your intertwined hands up and kissed the back of yours. “Good,”

You both settled into a comfortable silence as the men’s team took the field.

It reminded you of the thousands of nights the two of you had spent together before, but it didn’t fill you with a sense of dread that it had not too long ago. It didn’t make you feel dirty.

It was impossible for it to when Lindsey’s warmth was leaching into your skin, melting the edges of the ice that encased your chest.

The fingers of her free hand gently traced up and down your forearm, barely brushing the gray line on the inside of your elbow every few laps.

You wondered if she knew that the simple contact sent singles up your arm. Or if she knew that physical touch was the only way to cure the effects of soulmate sickness.

“Do they hurt?” She asked you as Jamaica cleared the ball and the men’s team stepped up to take a throw-in.

You blinked, once, twice processing the gentle question.

“Those don’t anymore. They’re healed,” You said slowly as her finger traced the gray line up past your elbow. “The doc says that the lines will never completely go away through,”

It got a bit darker as it ascended your arm, but it was nothing compared to the bubbling black it had been. The lines would fade a bit more until they were little more than raised silver skin like any other scar, it would just take time.

“The others?” Lindsey’s voice was barely above a whisper, as she traced slightly higher up your arm, towards your shoulder.

You shook your head. “Not as bad as it used to be. The meds help, and…,” You swallowed hard. “And not seeing him with you helps too,”

You felt Lindsey nod, and it went quiet again for another long second.

“Can I see it?”

Her voice stayed soft and hesitant, and you fought to keep yourself from going rigid.

It was a hard thing to explain, that letting people see the still deep purple mark on your chest. That letting Lindsey see it was more intimate than almost anything the two of you had ever done.

Doing it in dreams was so different than letting her see it in real life.

And you weren’t really sure how you felt about that.

You also weren’t sure how you felt about being alone with Lindsey in just a sports bra and shorts.

“You’ve already seen it,” You mumbled stiffly.

“I know,” Lindsey agreed, taking a long pause like she was choosing her words carefully. “I just… Can I see it for real?”

You let out a long breath through your nose because you understood the need to see it in real life.

You didn’t trust the dreams either, but did you trust Lindsey enough to let her see?

You wondered what Clarke would say. What her advice would be?

It would probably be some shit about following your feelings.

You let out another long breath.

“Ok,” You whispered, your voice sounding more unsure than you wanted to show.

“Ok,” Lindsey repeated, squeezing your hand once, before letting go.

It was a long second before you sat up, carefully scooting away from her and turning so you were facing her. She pulled her feet up so she was sitting criss cross and shuffled forward so your knees were touching.

Your eyes met hers. The blue in them seemed to smolder as they stared into yours, and for the first time in a very long time, nerves bubbled in your stomach.

You carefully pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the dark bruise that still sat right above your heart, and the receding spider web of veins that sprouted out from it.

Lindsey’s eyes remained locked with yours until you nodded once, giving her consent to look. It was only then that they trailed down your face, and towards the network of gray and purple that dotted the skin of your neck, deepening as it approached the space right above your heart.

Her lip disappeared between her teeth as she finally landed on the epicenter of your pain.

“Can I?” She asked, lifting her hand, but not touching you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but nodded once again, having already expected the request.

She nodded again, and very slowly extended her arm.

Her hand was warm as it landed on your shoulder, very gently touching the graying lines near your neck. Even the gentle press had a shudder running down your spine and goosebumps appearing up and down your arms.

“Good?” Lindsey asked, her eyes darting back up to yours.

You nodded stiffly. “Good,”

She hummed, dragging her hand down the graying line towards the black mark above your heart.

She flattened her palm against it, and it was like a lantern in the dark. Like an instant balm for the ever-present sting that accompanied each heartbeat.

You were sure she could feel how fast it was beating, like a runaway freight train threatening to explode out of your chest.

You shivered at the feeling, so much more potent than it was in the dreams.

It tingled and burned and filled you with a sense that everything was going to be ok (even if the rational part of your brain knew everything was so far from it), but it was different because this time, it was real.

“What does it feel like?”

“Hm?” You blinked up at her, realizing that your faces were merely inches apart.

Her eyes lifted from the little lines slowly receding on your chest to meet yours again. “I feel the warmth in my hand, but what does it feel like for you?”

“It’s hard to explain,” You said, squinting, your tongue poking from between your teeth. “It’s like a lantern lighting a dark abyss. Like a warm cup of tea after a freezing rain game,”

She nodded once, looking away from you and back towards the web of black on your chest. “I’m sorry I did this,”

“I know,” You smiled gently at her. “I forgive you,”

The truth was that you had forgiven her long ago, even if you didn’t trust her.

Her head bobbed in time with her throat. “I just felt like I needed to say it again. I was just so in my head that I wasn’t letting myself feel,”

Your lips turned down, and your eyebrows furrowed. “And what do you feel?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, shy and hesitant. “I feel like I want to kiss you,”

You tilted your chin so your lips were centimeters apart. “What’s stopping you?”

She sighed softly. “We’re doing this at your pace, and I don’t want to push you. You should be able to forgive me in your own time, without outside pressure from me,”

You felt more warmth bloom in your chest, spreading from the point the two of you were touching, all the way up to your ears.

It filled you with fondness and… love. It made you feel like she cared, and you wanted so badly to believe that she did.

And maybe this time you did believe her.

Trust would take time to earn, and for the first time in a very long time, you were willing to give her the chance to earn it.

This time you had the power to change the ending.

“Kiss me,” You murmured.

She leaned in the rest of the way, and your eyes slid closed as her lips pressed very gently into yours.

It was different than the kisses you had shared before, more reminiscent of the ones between you in France before the world of expectations and responsibilities had been placed on your shoulders.

It was softer, more hesitant, but passionate nonetheless.

You saw fireworks behind your eyelids and all your nerves stood on end. Your lips fit perfectly together, moving in a dance that only they knew.

It was everything you had ever wanted and more, and it was everything you wanted for the rest of your life.

Things weren’t perfect between the two of you. You both had scars and pain and things that you needed to solve with each other, but you knew that they would heal. Together you would be able to move past your past and make your future solid. Together you would figure it out. You would make it, together, interwoven for all eternity.

Always

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #lindsey horan imagine #lindsey horan x reader #my 20000 word soulmate fic

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manicpixiedckgirl · 15 days

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i am more convinced than ever that cosmic horror writers are just "some guy who also happened to glance at a total eclipse and saw the eye of god". like unless you've seen a total eclipse, you don't understand, you can't, i can't really explain it to you. you're sitting with your girlfriend, in a field. with a group of complete strangers that includes astrology wackjobs, menonites, lesbians from Ohio, and an old man who will later tell you a joke about teddy bears. and through these crappy cardboard glasses, you're watching a tiny yellow dot in the sky, the sun with almost all of the light blocked out, get slowly covered by this black disk. at first, it kinda just looks like the sun is turning into pacman through the glasses, but the sun is so bright you don't notice a difference as the moon moves across it. slowly though, even though it's a completely cloudless day, it starts to look like it's a little overcast, and the whole thing goes from cool to unnerving. it turns from day to night in the space of about 20 minutes or so, speeding up as it goes, and the primal part of your brain that knows what wildfires are and knows to run starts kicking and screaming. it knows whatever is happening is getting closer. the yellow dot is now a half moon, but it's the sun, and the haze that's normally around the sun that makes it way too bright to even think about looking at is fading. this whole time you've been looking directly at it, through the glasses, but now the heat of it against those glasses is strangely absent. the world looks strange too, like there's a filter over everything. everything is bluer, richer, deep. you feel giddy, knowing you're about to see the thing you've been looking forward to, try to quiet the monkey brain. before, suddenly, it starts to get dark. the street lights start to pop on in the corner of your eye. the sliver gets smaller and smaller. people get quiet. traffic stops. and then, when totality finally arrives and that sliver disappears, you hear two things. the birds stop singing. and people scream. through the glasses, there's a black dot with a white halo. you cant take it anymore. you glance over your glasses, just a peak. hanging in a sky dark, enough to see stars in, hangs a black orb, wreathed in white flame. where you know the sun should be is this indescribable inversion of reality. it's like the sun has been swallowed from the inside. and you laugh, you cry. in that moment i think i believed in god. you try not to look at it, but you can't not look at it. if i go blind, you think, this is what sight i had sight for. it's pure momentary insanity. and then as suddenly as it started it's over. and you have to go back to work tomorrow. that'd make anybody write some fucked up fetish horror is all im saying

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planet-marz1 · 5 months

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Tangled Triumphs

Summary: Joel learns how to do Sarah's hair Relationship: Joel and Sarah Word Count: ~800

Tags/Warnings: no warnings! just lots of fluff here :)

A/N: just some cute little joel & sarah cuteness i've been working on for a bit! tysm to @pascalpvnk for beta reading!!

beautiful dividers by @/saradika-graphics

| main masterlist | ao3 link | follow my fic updates blog @planetmarz1-notifs

The soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over Joel's small apartment. Toys scattered, and crayon drawings adorned the walls, painting a vivid picture of life with a spirited four-year-old named Sarah. Today, he’s facing a new frontier: the art of styling Sarah's wild, curly hair.

In the heart of the apartment, the kitchen table bore witness to the unfolding saga. Joel, armed with an array of hair tools and a laptop playing a tutorial, stared intently at the screen. Sarah, a ball of energy in her favorite princess dress, twirled around, giggling.

"Daddy, look at me!" she called, her curly crown dancing with each twirl.

"In just a minute, sweetheart," Joel replied, his gaze shifting between the laptop and the intimidating hairbrush in his hand.

Transitioning to the bathroom, Joel and Sarah stood before the mirror. Joel, with a gentle touch, spritzed Sarah's hair with water, creating a halo of droplets around her head.

"It's cold, Daddy!" Sarah protested, her enthusiasm momentarily dampened.

"I know, darling. It's part of the process," Joel reassured, glancing at the online tutorial for guidance.

Joel attempted to detangle the curls with a wide-tooth comb. Sarah stood in front of the mirror, her curls seemingly possessing a life of their own, evading Joel's efforts.

"Daddy, it's pulling!" Sarah whined, her patience waning.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. Just a bit more," Joel said, beads of frustration forming on his forehead.

The bathroom became a battleground as Joel grappled with knots and tangles. Sarah squirmed, the process proving more challenging than anticipated.

"Can we play something else?" Sarah pleaded.

"Just a little longer, princess. We're almost there," Joel reassured, beads of sweat forming on his temples.

Returning to the kitchen, Joel embarked on the styling phase, attempting to replicate the hairstylist's intricate twists and turns. Sarah's patience dwindled, and she fidgeted, making Joel's task even more intricate.

"Daddy, I wanna go play!" Sarah insisted, tugging at Joel's sleeve.

"Just a moment, sweetheart. We're almost finished," Joel said, determination etched on his face.

In the kitchen, amidst the remnants of detangling spray and hairbrushes, Joel made a decision. "Alright, sweetheart, how about we go on a little adventure?"

Sarah's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Adventure? Where are we going?"

"To the store," Joel declared, scooping up Sarah into his arms. "We're going to find the perfect things for your beautiful hair."

The fluorescent lights of the store illuminated rows of hair care products. Joel, pushing a cart with Sarah seated in the front, navigating towards the hair care section, a world of colorful bottles and promising labels. Sarah, nestled in the cart, scanned the shelves with wide-eyed enthusiasm.

"Okay, sweetheart, we need something that will make your curls happy. What do you think?" Joel asked, examining the array of products.

"Maybe that one!" Sarah pointed to a bottle with a picture of cheerful curls on it.

Joel hesitated, reading the fine print. "Hmm, let's see."

As he tried to decipher the mysterious language of hair care ingredients, Sarah giggled, her small hands reaching for another bottle.

"No, Daddy, this one! It has sparkles!" she insisted, pointing to a bottle that promised an extra touch of magic.

Joel chuckled, appreciating his daughter's keen eye. "Sparkles it is, then. A touch of magic for those beautiful curls."

Next, they ventured into the accessories aisle, a paradise of colors and shapes. Sarah's eyes widened at the sight of butterfly clips, hair bands, and ribbons.

"Look, Daddy! Butterflies!" she exclaimed.

Joel chuckled, appreciating the simplicity of his daughter's joy. "Butterflies it is, then! Pick out your favorites, sweetheart."

Sarah carefully selected a handful of butterfly clips in different colors, her eyes shining with delight. Each choice felt like a treasure unearthed in their quest for the perfect adornments. Joel watched, a sense of pride welling up as his daughter made her choices.

Back home, with their newfound treasures, Joel and Sarah settled in the living room. Armed with the chosen hair care product and the butterfly clips, Joel embarked on the next part of their quest.

"Now, let's try this magic potion first," Joel said, spraying the detangling spray.

As the mist settled on Sarah's curls, Joel gently worked his way through the tangles. Each stroke of the comb was a small victory, the detangling spray making the curls more manageable. Sarah, now more patient, sat with anticipation, her eyes fixed on the transformation.

"And for the finishing touch..." Joel added the butterfly clips.

Sarah beamed as the colorful butterfly clips were delicately placed, turning her curls into a whimsical masterpiece. Each clip held a story, a choice made with joy and excitement.

"Look, Daddy! I'm a butterfly princess!" she exclaimed.

"You sure are, sweetheart. A butterfly princess with the most beautiful curls in the world," Joel said, smiling.

tag list: @pertinentpostmortem @party-hearses @mandoisapunk @bastardmandennis @catchallfangirl @chaotic-mystery @beskarandblasters @amanitacowboy @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @pedrodascal @sweetercalypso @ilovepedro @cool-iguana @alwaysmicado @lovers-liability @futuraa-free @morgaussy @pedritoferg @spookykoolkat @wethairjoel @chronically-ghosted @buckyispunk @pattwtf @morning-star-joy @elvinaa @tinycozycomfort @magpiepills @pr0ximamidnight @joelscurls @janaispunk @5oh5 @farmerlarrry @maximoff-forevermore @atinylittlepain @joeldjarin @spookyxsam @honey-dip-24 @hiroikegawa @mcira @mrsmando @hyzer34 @limerence4u @sin-djarin @reddedmiller @joels-shitty-puns @elvinaa @kajashe @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

pls lmk if you want to be removed from the tag list!

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller au

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dmitriene · 6 months

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ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀᴍꜱ.

❝ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ❞ 𝘳𝘦4 𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘺 𝘹 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳. ❝ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 ❞ 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴, 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

The soft light of the setting sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the cozy living room in a warm golden hue, the room was decorated with wooden furniture and soft, cozy pillows that whispered of comfort and relaxation.

The subtle aroma of vanilla scented candles hung in the air, creating an atmosphere of serenity and intimacy that enveloped you completely.

In this calm environment, Leon sat on the floor, his lean and strong body nestled comfortably between your legs.

His handsome, sharp features bathed in the gentle, amber light, emphasizing the strict blue of his eyes — these piercing eyes, brighter and more beautiful than the sky itself, conveyed all his emotions when they looked at you, they retained a special tenderness, a charming puppy warmth that every time melted your heart.

His blond hair, like a soft, ethereal halo, beckoned to your touch — the strands were the color of a fresh ear of wheat, and as he grew older, he allowed them to flow freely, forming a protruding mop at the back of his head.

You couldn't resist running your fingers through those untamed locks, feeling their airy softness, enjoying the untamed sensuality they offered.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the room, you took the opportunity to braid a small strand of his golden hair, the amber hue of the room made his hair almost luminescent and it was a sight to behold.

Leon growled in satisfaction, closing his eyes, completely giving in to the pleasure of your gentle ministrations — he loved being stroked and petted like a pampered puppy, and you were more than happy to give in to him.

With gentle fingers, you ran through his strands, weaving them together to form a thin braid at the top of his head — the entire process was a tender exchange, a quiet and affectionate moment that spoke volumes about the deep connection between you two.

In such intimate moments, Leon often resembled a contented puppy, especially when you pampered him with this tender attention.

The soft rhythm of your hands on his head lulled him into a state of serene relaxation — Leon rested his head on your thigh, his shoulders relaxing as he enjoyed your touch.

You couldn't help but occasionally lean down to gently kiss the top of his head, adding to the sweet, calm atmosphere that enveloped both of you.

The living room felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still and the outside world ceased to exist — there were no urgent missions, no looming threats, and none of the constant pressure that Leon so often faced as a government agent.

In this space, it was just the two of you, entwined in a quiet moment of togetherness.

The room was decorated with several framed photographs, capturing glimpses of your shared adventures and smiles shared in the most unexpected and dangerous situations, and a small potted plant adorned the windowsill, its green leaves adding a touch of nature to the cozy interior.

Soft jazz music played in the background, something old fashioned, echoes of Leon's true taste, its soothing melodies blending seamlessly with the gentle rustle of hair under your careful touches.

Outside, the world was the usual chaos and unpredictability, but inside your refuge, everything was always calm, the atmosphere of the living room became a reflection of your relationship with Leon — filled with warmth, love and an unspoken promise of unwavering support, a promise to be there for each other.

Leon sighed contentedly, the vibration of his sigh felt through your fingers as you worked on his hair, moments like these when the world faded away and it was just the two of you were the ones you treasured the most.

You found solace in the simplicity of this connection, how you could give Leon the care and affection he deserved after all the hardships he faced.

The room was filled with an aura of unspoken affection — every braid you braided into his hair was a declaration of your love for him, a silent promise that you would always be there to ease his burden, and the air was filled with the feeling of comfort that only came from being with someone who knew you better than anyone else.

Time flew by and the room grew darker, the last vestiges of daylight giving way to soft, soothing darkness, but it didn't matter, the atmosphere remained the same.

The warmth in your heart and the love that flowed between you and Leon illuminated the room much more effectively than any daylight could.

As you continued to braid his hair, the outside world ceased to exist, in this precious moment you were surrounded by soft music, the scent of vanilla and the touch of Leon's hair against your fingers.

The living room was no longer just a place — it was a sanctuary where you and Leon could escape the chaos of the world and find solace in each other.

And as you kissed his head once more, you knew that this was where you belonged — enveloped in his presence, lost in the comforting atmosphere of your love and content in the knowledge that your bond was unbreakable, a refuge that could weather any storm.

taglist: @roseglazedlens, @scar-crossedlvrs, @daydreamrot, @cehrie, @kennedyswhore dm me if you want to be tagged in my works or open my taglist

#[ ✒️july writing ]#leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy comfort #leon scott kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy comfort #leon scott kennedy x gn reader #leon scott kennedy x you #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #re4 leon #leon kennedy drabble

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porcelainseashore · 2 months

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Ghosts from the Past (7)

(Part 1 / Part 2: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7)

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: Just a quiet, little chapter to bring this series to a close. I’ve returned to my fluff roots, so expect that, some hurt/comfort and domestic coziness. Thank you’s will be at the end!

AO3 Link

Chapter 7: Begin Again

It felt like you had been in the strangest dream, one which you couldn’t recall the contents of, the next time you opened your eyes. You awoke in the sterile brightness of a hospital room, tubes trailing from your arms and the steady beep of the monitor synching with your heartbeat. Everything was still in a haze and your mind was foggy, like you had been anesthetized.

Something was clutching your hand. Another hand? You wriggled your fingers, trying to get rid of the sensation of pins and needles that hung heavily to your entire body. The smell of earth, rusty metal, and sweat permeated the air, triggering a brief memory that encapsulated what had come to pass. Your gaze landed on a light blonde mane at the side of the bed, matted but radiant like a golden halo from the sunlight that filtered into the room.

Then, it shifted groggily, and a face which had initially been buried under the blanket and sheets, slowly peered up at you. Blinking a couple of times as if he couldn’t trust what he was seeing, his grip around your hand tightened.

“Leon?” You called out, your voice crackling and raspy, like a dry sheet of paper.

His face was bloodied and bruised, but a slanted smile lit up across it. You noticed that he was still in the same combat gear from the time at Silje’s underground lair, apart from his firearms and knife, which were unholstered and secured by the bedside table. He looked like he hadn’t showered for days. How long had you been here?

As you tried to sit yourself up, a dull, aching pain coursed through your left shoulder, causing you to emit a low groan in discomfort. Leon planted a hand gently on your chest, motioning for you to lay down. “No, baby. You need to rest.”

Brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek, he echoed the promise he had made to you, “I told you I wouldn’t let them get you.”

“I never doubted that.”

Closing your eyes, you cupped your good hand over his. He dipped his head and his silken lips met yours, soft and cautious, as if you were a precious treasure. Your noses nudged each other and his warm breath tickled your skin, as he kissed you tenderly, tasting and breathing every essence of you in.

The sound of someone clearing their throat sharply interrupted your private exchange. Leon pulled away at lightning speed, as if he had been caught red-handed stealing candy from a baby, and you observed a dust of pink spread over his cheeks, as he looked down towards the ward floor. It reminded you of the times when you were younger and he was still figuring out his feelings for you, so much so that you giggled involuntarily in response. He delivered a piercing side eye that came with a hint that you were going to be in trouble later. You bit your tongue, trying to reign in your laughter.

“Oh, great, I see you are awake,” the nurse who had chanced upon your clandestine moment sighed warily.

“Mr. Kennedy,” she nodded in his direction, both in acknowledgement and as a subtle indication that he had overstayed his welcome. “I still need to run the last screening tests on the patient.”

“Was just about to-”

“Hmph.” She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head in disgust. “You should do something about that god awful stench!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as he got up to leave.

Turning towards you, he gave your hand another lingering squeeze. “I’ll be back within the hour.”

“Make that two,” the nurse asserted sternly. “Personal hygiene, Mr. Kennedy,” she pointed out again, as he waved her off dismissively, silently striding out of the room.

Eventually, you were informed that you had been cleared of the infection, largely thanks to the serum Leon had administered to you on-site. They had to extract the remaining lumps of mold from you when your body had stabilized after the blood transfusions. So, you were free, but still being monitored, just like the other dancers who had been infected. Except, they were kept in the dark about their treatments and were never told the truth about their symptoms.

Your snapped shin had healed up pretty well due to the mold, but unfortunately your shoulder would take a longer time, meaning that you wouldn’t be able to dance professionally for a while. It was too early to tell if this spelled the definite end of your career, but you tried to stay positive despite the obvious setbacks.

The theater base where The Connections had operated out of had been successfully closed down by Leon. Under the guise of discovering some unexploded World War II bombs, the area had been cordoned off, so that whatever remained of the place could be cleared out. It wasn’t as stealthy as the government had hoped for, but it did the job.

Things didn’t look so bright for Silje’s dance company however, as she was declared missing without any real leads, while your colleagues mourned her loss. The secret of what had actually transpired stuck with you, eating into you little by little each day, until you decided to steer the course of events in your own way. Before you were finally done with your life in Berlin for good, you had contacted the group of principal dancers, who were left lost without a leader. You attempted to convince them to take over the company as a collective, so as to honor Silje’s work as best as possible. In the end, she had become a monster, but you still loved her somehow. Maybe this would help to ease the guilt you felt, despite being thrown unwittingly into a situation you had no control over. You weren’t sure what results came out of your talk with your co-dancers, but you were hopeful that they would at least try.

The first few months of settling back into your home country was daunting initially. You’d not visited since you’d left. You hadn’t seen a reason to, only giving your parents a handful of calls each year, so that they knew you were alive.

Leon had been by your side throughout your adjustment, and you appreciated him all the more for it. He was there during the bumpy road of recovery, where every move or touch hurt. Coughing, sneezing, and even breathing aggravated it. You’d roll over in your sleep and wake up in pain. He was there to comfort you when your physical state started to affect you mentally. You weren’t the same person anymore, you felt weak and crippled. Then, the nightmares came to haunt you, causing you to shun what you had loved doing since you were young, which was to dance.

But Leon never gave up on you. He knew about the effects of muscle damage and the trauma you were suffering from, because he had been through it all himself. The main difference was that back then, he had no one with him to turn to, and he didn’t want the same to happen to you. As you began to heal, your mood lightened. It slowly felt like you could breathe again. You started taking turns caring for each other when the night terrors came. You’d learnt from him how to handle them and what the other person needed in the moment. You supported him as much as he supported you. And for that, he was grateful.

Even though blood no longer seeped through your dressing and most of your movement had come back, your body still remembered the pain. You’ve come to accept that it’ll always be a part of you and never go away. Now, you and Leon have matching pink scars on the same shoulder - a testimonial of the sacrifices you’ve made in the past. But you lived on to tell the story together.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It was one of those rare days where neither of you had woken up in the night with a start, sometimes screaming and breaking out in a cold sweat. However, you'd realized that such nights were gradually becoming less frequent.

The first rays of morning light slipped through the sheer curtains of the window of the bedroom you now shared with Leon, in the northeast of DC. It was a quieter, more residential part of town, that reminded you of where you grew up, though the irony of it was not lost on you. No matter how far you’d tried to run away from home, it still managed to catch up to you.

Casting a warm glow across the room, the light illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air and a couple of moving boxes stacked along the wall, which you had yet to unpack out of procrastination. A pair of arms were wrapped around your abdomen, cradling you like a bird’s nest; your very own sanctuary against the outside world.

You sighed in bliss, enveloped in their tranquil embrace. It looked like it was going to be another lazy Sunday, but you couldn’t complain. Recently, you had finally plucked up the courage to connect with your dance roots again, by teaching it at the college nearby. So, weekends were reserved for quality time with Leon, which you cherished, seeing as he could be whisked away for missions without much warning.

As the light crept over the edge of the bed, the body next to you stirred. Chasing away sleep from his eyes, Leon rubbed them and yawned, kissing your neck as he murmured into your hair, “Is this real?” He pinched your arm, causing you to yelp and smack his hand playfully in return. You felt his smile against the back of your head.

“Cut it out.” You couldn’t keep a serious tone and he knew it. Turning to face him, you raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Come to think of it, I should be the one asking you that question.”

“Oh?” He humored you, waiting for your comeback in mild amusement.

“Talk about seeing a ghost from the past,” you teased.

He scoffed, before claiming your lips lovingly with his own. Taking in the sight of the room once more, he discovered a new addition to the wall. It was a photo booth strip of the two of you pulling silly faces back when you were teenagers and best friends. You had unearthed it by accident from one of the boxes not long ago.

“When did you put that up?” He probed out of curiosity, seemingly surprised at your ability to collect and preserve memories.

“Just yesterday.”

“Mm.” He carded his fingers through your hair, reliving the happiness encased in those set of photos. “We’ll make new ones.”

New memories to decorate the rooms and hallways with. His apartment used to be cold and bare, merely functioning as a place to sleep, when he drowned himself in work as a distraction from the circumstances he had been forced into. He didn’t have someone to come home to. But now he had you. You started to fill the space with pieces of him and you - CDs of your favorite bands that you’d gifted each other like personalized mixtapes, old love letters containing your heartfelt confessions, a potted cactus plant from Hunnigan, a handmade greeting card from Sherry, a pile of vintage books from Claire, yellowed and worn at the edges… You’d arranged them diligently while he was out, busy at the office or in the field. As time went by, it grew more vibrant and bit by bit, it became a place both of you called home.

“You’re not going anywhere today, are you?”

You drifted back from your reverie at Leon’s question. “No?”

“Good.” He drew you in closer, pulling you flush against his bare chest. “I’ll have you all to myself.”

He couldn’t get enough of you these days. Maybe it was the near-death experience or the thought of losing you again. He knew he had to ease up on his overprotectiveness at some point, even though he was afraid that the idyllic bubble you had built together might burst. The government had retired you from your duties for now, as you were no longer infected and had been relocated for your safety. However, you weren’t far out of their reach. They still monitored you from behind the scenes and Leon knew it was only a matter of time before they came knocking on the door again. A government lackey never truly retired. But he would be there beside you, making sure you wouldn’t get the short end of the stick again, even if it meant giving up something else in return. Somehow, both of you would find a way.

This time, it was your peck on his nose and prompting that brought him back to reality. “Don’t forget about the call.”

Right. That call. He sighed hesitantly. “What should I say? They probably won’t-”

You caressed his jawline stubble with your knuckles soothingly. “They will,” you affirmed. “You’re their son, and they love you.”

He looked at you almost teary-eyed as you pressed your lips against his, coaxing a faint moan from his mouth. “I’ll be there with you,” you reassured him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, before a spark of recognition kindled in his eyes. “You hear that?”

The distant sound of a familiar guitar melody played on the radio alarm clock. As the male singer crooned in a husky tone, you grinned. It was cheesy, but it was the song you had danced to with Leon on your graduation night.

“May I?” He asked, offering his open palm to you, beckoning you to join him. Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, you smiled and gave in. You grabbed his hand, rose to your feet and positioned yourself with him on the bedroom floor. Every now and then, he would try to help you form new associations with dancing, to replace the negative ones you had developed from the incident.

Your hands rested around his neck and his arms encircled your waist. He led and you followed, allowing him to guide you with each step and turn to the music, just as he had done so many years ago.

“What do you think our lives would’ve been like, if things were normal?” He reminisced out of the blue. “If Raccoon City didn’t happen?”

Gazing up at him reflectively, you paused for a moment in silence to contemplate the points he was raising.

“I guess I would’ve still been a cop,” he answered first, his voice tinged with bittersweet longing.

He pushed it down by cracking a joke at your expense. “But then I’d have had to see about that habit of yours.” Placing his mouth to your ear, he whispered, “My little pothead cheerleader.”

You groaned, punching his arm in a futile effort to wipe off the smirk that was plastered across his face.

He laughed in response, before his expression turned somber again. “I would’ve liked you to live with me though.”

“I know,” you admitted wistfully. “And if we could turn back time, I’d have said yes, over and over, undeniably.”

Nestling your head into his neck, you continued, “When you were gone, I would’ve done anything to bring you back.”

“Baby…” his voice trailed off as he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your face towards him.

“I know what we have now isn’t perfect, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” you professed, ultimately realizing it was better to live with Leon in the present than the past.

“Neither would I,” he concurred softly. “This is more than enough for me.” Closing the gap between the two of you, he deepened the embrace, and his lips found yours, sealing them together like a bond that couldn’t be broken.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

So, that was the very final chapter! In case you’re interested, I imagined Leon and Reader living in Brookland and the song they danced to was Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.

It’s been an amazing journey with each and every one of you. Thank you for all your kindest words and support, my heart is full! I’ve never ever completed any of my previous fics, so I’m ecstatic that this is the first of its kind 🥰

Special thanks goes out to:

AliBelleRosetta, whom I’ve shared many fun brainstorming and venting sessions with.

Cameron, who looked through my work whilst dealing with my Leon fangirling.

Another shoutout I’d like to do is for a fic I was inspired by, and got me thinking about creating my own series. If you like, check out Chance Encounter by Iabyrinth.

Finally, I’m still deciding what to write next. I have a couple of ideas for one-shots that I might want to try my hand at. But feel free to let me know if there’s anything else you’d like to see in the comments. Thank you once again!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fluff #re4 leon #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #resident evil #porcelainscribbles

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