#Andreas Flinch | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

13uswntimagines · 11 months ago

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

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

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

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

July, 2015

We were both young when I first saw you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty spectacular isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged again, your grin turning impish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “So?”

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

It was a fundamental part of your personality after all.

“Y/n I’m serious,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tay!”

“That was an amazing show,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

September, 2015

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

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

But as it turned out, Taylor did text you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “I don’t flop,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It also saved your mother’s sanity.

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

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

She rolled her eyes. “Try for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t be into you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

December 2015

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings

That became my religion, listen

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned. “Never ever?”

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

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

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

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

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

A thoughtful look crossed her face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they dating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was your friend.

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

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

“You didn’t just do that,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missed me, loser,”

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

You would not be a loser.

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

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

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

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

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

Her face was red when you dropped your shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wrinkled your nose. “Bummer,”

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

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

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

You would tolerate baking if it was with Taylor.

*****

March, 2016

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the fuck have you been?”

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

She made a face at you.

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

Now it felt like she barely knew you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You asked, examining the cookie.

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

You glanced down at the device.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Kelley frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just fine?”

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

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

Lots of practice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t sure when that changed.

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

“Promise?” She asked you, more softly.

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

“With my pinky,”

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

But she didn't.

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

Maybe it was slightly more than slightly…

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

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

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

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

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

And… she groaned, swiping to the next picture.

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

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

She rolled her eyes.

She knew differently.

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

She sighed again, scrolling past the pictures.

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

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

It was a picture of a bag of cookies.

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

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

I can make you more when you visit me

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

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

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

*****

June 2016

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She must be at the studio.

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

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

Taylor rolled her eyes at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You doubted they’d make the connection anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus she was straight.

It was too cliche for you to handle.

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

It never turned out well when they pushed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wouldn’t let Emily either.

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

“Come on Sonny, make your move,”

******

July 2016

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

2016 was the summer of the apocalypse.

There was no other way to put it.

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

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

But you missed it. Badly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you just liked hanging out with her.

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

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

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

Blondie 👱🏻‍♀️🎤: ???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her frown deepened. “You sound drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

She shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoOo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded. “That would be great,”

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

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

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

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

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

You looked so young in your sleep.

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

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

“Tay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe one day she would ask you.

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrowed.

How had you scared her? Did you call her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A dark look crossed your features.

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

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

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

You shook your head. “This is different,”

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

If only you could be like your perfect older sister.

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

She raised her eyebrow at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be easy.

And frankly, it was easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The team brought in less money when they lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded slowly, taking another bite of her burrito.

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

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

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

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

Your whole face lit up. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor hummed. He was right.

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

Tonight you hadn’t done that.

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

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

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

Taylor’s head tilted.

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

But this felt different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Taylor…

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

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

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

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

You blew out another breath.

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

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

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

You were just… lost.

You had never felt so… attached before.

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

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

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

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

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

She was definitely going to make fun of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked at her. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t ready for that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squinted. “Just go with it?”

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

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

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

“Ok,” You said. “Thank you,”

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

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

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

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

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

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pretty-red-garnet · 1 year ago

Text

Brothers

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry • Fluff

This took so long and I am not happy with it at all. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this! I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just could not figure out what to write for this request. Again, so sorry. I hope to get back into writing more soon!

Part 2

Chaos. Everything was complete chaos. Gunshots, groans of walkers, the kids screaming in panic, Shane shouting orders. A rifle thrown in your hands, fingers trembling as you took shots, walkers falling to the ground. Lori, Carol, and the two kids were hustled into the RV, and you stood guard by the door.

Rick and the group came back from Atlanta suddenly, yelling and shouting and putting more guns in more people hands. Your eyes kept flicking to your brother, Shane, as he took down geeks. Everything was going so fast and your head was spinning.

And then, silence. It was eerie, how so much panic and chaos could turn quiet so shortly. The once bustling camp enjoying a fish fry now was now nearly half the size. The earth beneath your feet was covered in blood, some red and fresh from the people, some was almost back, the walker blood.

Andrea dropped down to her sister and let out a cry, and that's when you finally turned away, opening the door to the RV and letting them know it was clear. A hand dropped to your shoulder and you flinched, the tips of your fingers brushed the knife at your waist before you realized.

"You good?" Shane asks, and you give him a jerky nod. He pats your shoulder once more and parts from you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and survey the camp.

There's bodies everywhere, both human and undead. You can't stand looking at it, you can't stand Andrea's cries as the background noise. You turn on your heel and begin walking away, towards the woods. Maybe it wasn't safest, but you needed a breather away from everything. They were beginning to stab the brains of the dead, and you couldn't watch them put down the people you once considered friends.

You sit heavily on a overturned tree, the rifle you swung on your back makes a metallic noise when it hits the wood. You sigh, bringing your elbows to rest on your knees as you bury your face in your hands.

You're only alone for a moment before you hear footsteps and you shoot your head up, heart racing and eyes glancing about before you spot Daryl. You huff out a breath and take your eyes off him, hastily brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

"You're getting sloppy, heard you from a mile away," you tease, your voice teary. Daryl scoffs and plunks himself down on the trunk beside you.

"Didn't wanna scare you." You nod, because you knew he had purposely made himself known. You'd been hunting with the archer enough times to know he was never sloppy.

"Did my brother send you?" You ask, still staring down at your shoes out of embarrassment that he'd seen you like this. All teary eyed and pathetic looking.

"Nah, too busy starin' at Lori and Rick," he says. It's your turn to scoff now. "You alright?"

"Yeah," you answer, risking a little glance at the man beside you. He was biting his lip in a way that made you believe he was worried, so you force a little smile. He doesn't look convinced.

"No Merle?" You ask. Daryl shakes his head, breaking his gaze from yours. "I'm sorry." Daryl throws you a little glare out the corner of his eye, but it lacks any sort of real anger. "I am."

"Sure," he says, sarcastically. You narrow your eyes and bump his shoulder with yours.

"Ok, I know me and him weren't exactly besties," your emphasis on the word makes Daryl give you an exasperated look. You just smile. "But I can still be sorry, I know how much you care about him." Daryl hums. "Besides, I don't think anything will take down that man. I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah, probably," he says with a huff of air escaping his lips. You're both quiet for a moment, and Daryl eyes you worriedly. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "Just... worried. About everything."

"I get that." You get silent again, and Daryl starts to bite and pick at the skin on his thumb. "But you don't gotta be."

"I don't?" You ask, brows pulled forward and looking at Daryl intently. "Why's that?" Daryl shrugs and decides that the ground is more interesting than looking at you.

"'Cause I'll always look out for you," he answers, quietly. You smile and place your hand on Daryl's shoulder in a gentle manner. He flinches just a bit before turning his blue eyes to you. He has a soft expression on his face, the one that's reserved for only you

"Thank you," you say, in a sincere and soft way Daryl's never heard directed at him before. He nods, shakily. "I'll always look out for you, too."

"I know," he answers, standing up. "Come on, ain't safe out here."

You aren't completely sure when the unlikely friendship of you and Daryl began. A cop and a loud, brash redneck wasn't exactly an expected duo. Although, you do know a much different Daryl than most. A much kinder, softer version of himself, one he keeps locked behind a very tall, very solid wall.

You're sure the only reason Daryl has shown this side of himself to you was because you're the only one to treat him like a person, not like some ticking time bomb. Not like some untamed animal or uncontrollable being, just a person. You had shown him a kindness he wasn't used to, and even after a few attempts at keeping you at arms length, you're closer than ever with the man.

You’d admit that maybe your feelings for the man weren’t completely platonic. But that’s to be expected considering you spend so much time with him. He’d taught you some hunting tips, so you hunted with him most days. All that time together, it wasn’t a complete surprise that a little crush would form.

Daryl leads you back to your tent, avoiding the mess of the dead loved ones. It seems most have agreed major cleanup can wait until morning, and have returned to their reserved tents. Dale stayed on watch, mostly for Andrea's sake, just incase she wouldn't be strong enough to take out Amy, you assume.

Daryl lingers at the opening of your tent. You have a unsure, nervous look to you. Your hands wring and fumble with themselves, and your bottom lip in firmly in place between your teeth. He's not fond of your anxious presence.

"I don't want to be alone," you whisper. You grimace, eyes screwing shut briefly before they open again. "Sorry, that makes me sound so pathetic." You let out a breath of air that's supposed to resemble a laugh, but it falls short. "I'll be ok, I'm not even really alone anyway. Shane's tent is right next to mine—"

"Wanna stay with me?" Daryl asks, before he can even think. The words just escape him, embarrass him, and he's about to take it back before you answer.

"Would you mind?" Daryl wants to say absolutely not, of course he doesn't, but what comes out is a grunt and a shake of his head accompanied by a shrug. Daryl turns towards his tent and juts his chin at it.

"Come on." You follow behind him to his tent. His and Merle's are beside each other, both farther from everyone else's tents. They have their own small fire pit and some tree stumps for chairs. Not far behind is a string of cans, a perimeter for the campsite.

Daryl leads you into his tent, holding the flap open for you to climb in behind him. It's small inside, some clothes and spare bolts for his crossbow laying about. A thick blanket is splayed out to act as a barrier from the hard ground. It's Daryl's turn to be nervous and fumbling, watching you take in the small space.

"Cozy," you say with a smile, laying down on the blanket. Daryl hesitates, sitting near the closed entrance and as far as possible from you. You frown. "Lay down. There's room for both of us." You pat the spot on the blanket beside you.

Daryl's eyes flick from yours to the space beside you. He eventually obeys after seeing your unrelenting gaze and lays down beside you, kicking off his boots and keeping them close.

You watch as Daryl does so. His muscles are tense, even as he lays down. He's stiff as a board, arms crossed on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling of the tent. He's ridged, and you feel the tension radiate off his body in waves.

"Am I making you nervous?" You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. It’s mostly to cover up your own anxiety over being so close to him. Daryl scoffs and turns his face away from you.

"Yeah, right." You laugh softly, and Daryl feels a smile twitch at his own lips at the sound. "Just ain't used to sharin' the covers, better not be a blanket hog."

"I'm not, I promise."

It gets quiet, both just laying beside each other, sleep not catching up with either. The gears in your head spin at a million miles a minute, and Daryl glances at you every few minutes, his own thoughts racing, until finally, you speak.

"Do you ever think..." you pause, and Daryl watches you carefully. "That you just aren't good enough? No matter what you do?" Daryl's brows furrow. Where did that come from?

"Plenty," he replies. "Have I ever thought you weren't good enough? Nah, never." Daryl adjusts so his arm is resting behind his head, he keeps his gaze straight to the ceiling even as he feels your eyes burn into him. "Where's this comin' from?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "Been thinking about it a lot lately. About if something happens and I can't save Shane, or Carl. You." Daryl's heart flips.

"Took out a lot of walkers today," Daryl says. "I think you'd be right there if anyone needs your help."

"I'm not strong enough."

"Stop," Daryl snaps, he whips his eyes to yours.

"I'm not. I'm not my brother, and I'm not like you or Rick. I'm not strong, I'm not meant for this." Your voice grows weaker as you go on.

"You're a cop, you helped people, right? You took out, what? Ten walkers all on your own? I saw you." You let out a humorless laugh, tears spring at your eyes.

"The only reason I became a cop was because Shane did," you admit. "I felt like I had to follow him, to do something."

"Don't matter." Daryl's brows furrow. He isn't sure where this is all coming from. Sure, he'd seen you seemed to always be behind Shane, following whatever he said to do. It bugged him a little, how he always bosses you around. He didn't think it ever bothered you.

"It does matter," you say with a scoff and sit up. Daryl follows, slowly sitting up next to you. "I was never meant for it. I could barely even take statements sometimes without wanting to cry."

"Just means you care 'bout people." You shrug.

"It means I'm weak." Daryl shakes his head and nudges you with his elbow.

"Ain't weak. And you ain't pathetic, neither." You hang your head.

"I wish I was like Shane, he's strong, he helps people."

"Yeah, well I like you just like this," Daryl admits, even as he feels his face heat up.

"Yeah?" You finally smile, shyly, turning your head just slightly to peek at Daryl. Daryl clears his throat and lays down, turning his back to you.

"Ain't saying it again. Go to sleep." You laugh, actually laugh, and lay down.

"I like you just how you are too, Daryl," you mumble, before sleep finally overtakes you.

Everyone is up early the next morning, you suspect nobody really slept. You had kept waking up every hour, and Daryl was still up staring at the ceiling when you'd glance at him. Footsteps and movement around the camp began right when the sun came up, and you and Daryl followed right after.

Everyone is bustling around now, burning the walkers and burying the dead, as Glenn had insisted. It isn't long before panic shouting is heard from Jacqui.

"Jim got bit! Jim's bit!"

Even more panic, angry shouting from Daryl, and arguing ensues. Daryl wants to kill Jim right then and there— which earned him quite the glare form you— thankfully it quieted him down a little. Rick wants to head to the CDC for a potential cure, and your brother is adamant Fort Benning would be the best bet. You were little ways away from their discussion, chatting with Carl.

"Y/N, what do you think?" Shane asks, suddenly. You sigh and take a few steps closer, away from Carl. You were hoping they would just figure it out and leave you out of it.

"Well," you begin, and Shane's slight narrow of his eyes doesn't go unnoticed. He wants you to go along with him. "I'm sure if there's a cure, Fort Benning would know. They are military, must have doctors."

Daryl scoffs, and you glance to him in surprise. He holds your gaze, but you can't place his expression. Your brows knit in confusion.

"There you have it, Rick," Shane says cockily, breaking you from your trance. You look away from Daryl.

You walk away, leaving the boys to argue further. You honestly don't care where you end up. From the looks of the city, there's nowhere safe, not the CDC, and not Fort Benning. It doesn't matter to you where they decide to go.

"Hey," Shane says, approaching you where you're taking down your tent. You drop the pole you're holding and stand up straight. Shane has a pissed off look on his face.

"CDC then?" You ask. His expression darkens.

"You could've had my back a little," he whispers angrily, getting closer to you. You turn away to hide your rolling eyes. You return to your task.

"I don't care where we go, Shane. It's all the same to me." He grabs your upper arm, not tight enough to hurt, but it's enough to pull your attention back to him.

"Yeah, as long as you get to follow your boyfriend, right?" You narrow your eyes, reeling away from Shane slightly out of shock. His face is close to yours. "Saw you come out of Dixon's tent this morning."

"So what, Shane," you say, yanking your arm from his grasp. "You aren't my father." He exhales heavily through his nose.

"Stay the hell away from that guy," Shane demands, his finger coming up to point at your face. You set your jaw, a fist balls at your side, and you smack his hand away from you. And then, for maybe the first time ever, you don't just do whatever your big brother tells you to.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Shane."

You drop down heavily into the truck's car seat. Daryl glimpses at you from the drivers seat, and he looks at you questionably. You don't say anything, instead glaring out the passenger window so viscously, Daryl's surprised it doesn't shatter.

"You ain't goin' with Shane?" He asks. You scoff.

"No," you answer, shortly. Daryl shrugs, mumbling an 'ok' and starting the engine. He takes off towards the CDC, and you continue your angered glare.

"So, you got your own opinion on this whole thing, or do you always just follow along with whatever your brother says?" Daryl suddenly asks, making you whip your eyes to him. He's staring straight to the road, and you scoff loudly.

"Oh, that's really something coming from you," you say sarcastically, letting out a sharp laugh. "You followed your brother around like a lost puppy, but I'm the one always going along with my brother? Bullshit."

You regret bringing up Merle as soon as you finished your sentence, but anger is clouding your judgment. Your frustration at Shane mixed with Daryl's unwarranted comment is just about too much to handle.

Although you feel a twinge of guilt, Daryl's comment was ridiculous coming from him. He always would follow his brother around, do whatever he said to do. He never even seemed to care whenever Merle went on racist, sexist, something just plain mean tangents, even if Daryl never agreed or joined.

But still, Merle was his brother, no matter how awful, that you understood more than anything. Shane was one to ruffle a few feathers too, and you understand better than anyone how oppressive it can be to forever be in the shadow of an older brother. Never getting your own opinion, or word in, forever just following along.

"You're right," Daryl says. You turn your head to him quickly in surprise. He doesn't face you, his eyes looking at the road in front of him. "I've always gone along with Merle, no matter how shitty he was, or what trouble I'd get in."

"You're right, too," you admit with a loud sigh, your anger fizzling at Daryl’s sincere tone. "I've never really done, hell, even said what I've wanted. I always just followed what Shane's doing."

“Think it’s about damn time we do what we wanna do,” Daryl says, after a few moments pause.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right!” You exclaim, smiling brightly. “Screw Shane!” Daryl laughs, and you turn your head to fully look at him.

He’s biting at the skin on his thumb, and he gives you a small, crooked grin when he notices your eyes on him. The sun cascading through the window of the truck makes him glow, and you can’t help but think that he looks just beautiful. His bright blue eyes sparking, how his light brown hair looks almost blonde in the yellow light. You’d never noticed just how handsome he is.

“The hell you starin’ at?” He asks suddenly. Your face flushes violently at being caught ogling, and you whip your face towards the window.

“Nothing,” you fumble out, he just hums an unconvinced noise of acknowledgment.

You bite your lip harshly to stop the grin that threatens to split your lips. You sneakily take another glimpse at Daryl, taking in his calm expression, the way his eyes narrow to block out the brightness from the sun.

Maybe it was just a crush, or maybe you’re head over heels in love with him. It doesn’t matter now. All you know is that Daryl understands you like no one ever has, and you aren’t letting that go any time soon.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fluff

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karalovesallthegirls · 9 months ago

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After years of pain and love and slow-building hope, Lena and Kara marry.

They are so in love Lena can hardly breathe sometimes from the weight of it. Life has meaning, the world is beautiful. Somehow, despite the odds and atrocities constantly suffocating her, Lena was blessed with her happy ending. The one sweet reward she’d ever had. They were so happy together, always waking in each others embrace. Always sharing kisses and giggles and sighs between work and warfare. They’re so happy that morning that Kara is called to the pier. Some dispute between aliens, nothing to worry about of course - they just need Supergirl to make sure it stays civil. She kisses Lena on the cheek that morning, promises to bring her lunch when she’s done, and then never comes back.

They don’t have an answer for Lena. Even after years of investigation and analysis, no one can tell her what or why it happened. All they can say is one moment Supergirl was there, and the next she was gone. There’s no body, but the Geiger readings are so high they say the Kryptonite must have melted her in a flash. One minute she’s there - her wife, her hero - and then she’s gone. Taken from the universe forever. Taken from Lena.

It nearly kills her, too, the loss. Kara was the one light she had in this life, and it was snuffed out like nothing. She almost lets it kill her. She wants it to, really, but Kara’s voice in her heart won’t let her give up. Despite her deepest desires to be with her wife Lena pushes on. She spends years pulling herself back from the brinks of despair and rebuilding herself into a new Lena. Not the same one, never the same without Kara, but something close. She finds a way to bear the pain. What Kara would have wanted.

And then, as unexpectedly as her second love had, her first returns to her. Slowly, somehow, Andrea finds her way back into Lena’s life. She’s different now, too, and Lena learns she’s lost her life’s light as well. Lena would recognize that look in anyone’s eyes. There’s no hiding a lost love like that. But Andrea has had longer in her grief, her scars less raw. She’s able to hold her pain and still hold Lena, too.

Andrea is remorseful and repenting and so acutely aware of the new scars Lena carries, and in her own twisted sort of way she’s good for Lena. No one else can see Lena like Andrea does, no one else can stare into the depths of her sorrow without flinching. The world mourns Supergirl, and the few mourn Kara Danvers, but only Lena mourns her wife. Alex mourns her, of course, as do their friends, but not the way Lena does. Never that way. There is a hole in her chest that will never close, and no one else will ever fill it.

And Andrea knows that. She never tries to fill it, never tries to replace. She holds Kara in her heart with a begrudging reverence. She knows the only reason she has Lena is because of Kara. Because she died, yes, but more so because she loved her. Her love opened Lena up again. Gave her hope. Made her believe in second chances. Kara was the light, Kara was the greatest lover and friend and hero anyone could have. She’s a dead god, and Andrea finds herself a parishioner.

Andrea loves Kara, in her own way. She’s an aspiration, a tormentor, a ghost that haunts the halls of their life. She’s in every embrace they share, every whispered word. When she finally convinces Lena to marry her, their wedding photos hang proudly beside those from her wedding to Kara. They both mention Kara by name in their vows. Kara is as real in their relationship as she is. And it works for them.

The jealousy is always there, what with living in the shadow of a fallen superhero, but it’s manageable. She knows she can win against a dead woman. And the pain and humiliation and constant pick of jealousy at the back of her skull is worth it because Lena is worth it. No one is worth more than her. And Andrea tries to make her happy - she promised that to Kara in her vows, after all. She made vows to Lena, and then made vows to Lena’s love: I will honor and cherish her as you would. I will protect her as you would. I will love her with all I have, as you would. I know the shoes I’m filling, and I will spend my life proving I’m worthy.

Andrea meant her vows and she keeps them. She loves Lena, and in her own way Lena loves her, and it’s enough. She’s happy. Andrea is so happy, and sometimes she sees that happiness in Lena, too. They build a life together and it’s good.

Then one day, Kara comes back from the dead, and everything falls apart.

#we watched the movie ‘one true loves’ and it was nothing but wasted potential #the husbands should have interacted constantly they should have both fought harder for the wife #they should have kissed #anyway this is what I’d write if I was gonna write it #mine #superrojascorp #two wives AU

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nathaniacolver · 10 months ago

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HELPPPPPPP IT'S THE SAME FOR SEASON 6

y'all i'm screaming i was just trying to look up the cast for a specific episode & ALL their pics got switched around 💀💀💀 andrea's so legendary she's on there twice LOL

this is great propaganda for gen alpha to NOT trust whatever google just gives you as the instant answers. click some links PLS

#i'm sorry but seeing nicole's cunty portrait shot next to the words “jesse rath” is TAKING ME OUT 💀💀💀#not that jesse doesn't serve cunt. it's just like the b&w & dark hair like literally made me double take to check that it WASN'T jesse 💀#the ai is getting stupider as we speak ig #nicole maines #jesse rath #andrea brooks #stop why did i see chyler's name next to katie's picture and NOT FLINCH oh no it's getting to me #cw supergirl #supergirl

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feral-ballad · 2 years ago

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Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Piano”

[Text ID: “We all have bullets beneath our skin / we pray our lovers won’t flinch at when / they find. / We all have sirens in our light.”]

#andrea gibson #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #typography #poetry collection

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hutahuta · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on Pavia introducing his GF to his wolf family? Maybe they already knew bc he’d come home smelling different and now they know who that other scent belongs to. I love the domestic idea of GF living with Pavia and telling the wolves to “go to papa�� like GF is mama to the wolves also

P.AGE OO.5 — 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐌 & NOBILITY : 交 ✦ ⏱

fem!reader // x pavia

✦ — this is SO cute awkawksjsdksj our precious babyy <33 i love you so much for this wjsjajsjs my heart ;(((

He was never one to settle down for a domestic life. But to think— You'd make such a good wife for him, though. Wouldn't you? Hearty meals every single day, venturing out into the world beyond together and preparing him that tender bath he needed after spilling ever the amount of blood when slaughtering his prey alive when he's out and about on his job.

You, however, have yet to meet his family. Pavia was 100% reluctant at first. This is his blood, his kin. The only family he'd ever grown to have and love. But you're his beloved girlfriend, aren't you? That famous, sweet voice of his bitterly adding the cold tone in which he spoke of.

' Come in, it's fine. Just be careful not to be eaten by them. '

What did he mean by that? Those playful 'jokes' of his always left you rendered silent, but your innocent mind nervously laughed it off.

It was jarring how someone like you could even become his S/O. You're perfect in more ways than one, and he can see it. So why meddle yourself with someone so tainted as him? That man has blood on his hands. Human blood.

Nevertheless, it seemed as though you were adamant on being with him. But he always told you in such a playful manner, that you're an idiot for thinking to fall in love with someone like him. But your persistence and your constant support on his behalf had both annoyed him and made him adore you.

Here you were now, simply waiting under the humble sofa which you had sat neatly atop. Your eyes transfixed on the battered, torn papers left in a mess within the tables, the dimly lit room proved to be no more than his fault.. and this distraction kept you at bay before you felt something wet sniff the bridge of your leg.

Whether you looked down in quiet silence or you freaked out is your choice, but Pavia couldn't help but quietly watch from a distance, not involving himself unless if needed. He saw this as a test of some sort.

This was the only family he'd have back then. Darkness swelled around Pavia, and he'd be forever alone until that faithful day he had met you. No longer shall he fester in silence and fight his constant urge to burn every building within the area whenever he'd spark back to the day he'd been locked up. Everyone has some trauma in them, and it often shapes them how they are today:

For Pavia's case, he may say things that he doesn't mean or struggles to pick up on social cues, but that doesn't make him any less different when you tell him that you love that he's fighting for your love day in, day out.

But the moment his fellow canine friends surrounded you with the constant sniffing and your patient nature making them seem like you're no threat, you were greeted by a sudden lick against your cheek. They knew. Of course they did. They have a better sense of trust than most humans.

You were sure Pavia may have prepared them by adorning his wall with the many pictures of you within his room, and that familiar face definitely echoed something within their minds, but it proved to be all content when Andrea started drooling on your shoes and Pavia seemed to scold her for it; snapping out of your thoughts in an instant.

Your scent to a wolf is everything. This is how they trace you, mark you, and familiarise themselves with you. When Pavia returned home with a different scent to his own, the constant barking to the foreign scent made them seem like you were harming Pavia.

You didn't flinch, but you waited until their eyes gave some sort of approval for you to touch, and when you did, by the gods did the angels send you directly to heaven when they tickled you with their noses and pulled off one another just to be seated by your sides, or your lap. Constant pets, adorned with kisses on their foreheads, gentle giggles breezed a reminder of how utterly mother-like you are..

To think, Pavia would ask himself. Would you treat his own children like that one day?

The sight nearly drowned the merc in a wave of relief, but a heavy laugh followed over from how you, yourself, were getting mercilessly drowned by the constant affection feeding into you seconds after. You muffled a plea for help and mercy, but your body was overcome with the shadows that happily lapped up heavy affection from just a few touches from you, patience and understanding.

Whether you knew how to handle dogs or not is genuinely your own skill choice, but Pavia will never forget how you willingly offered your safety to allow yourself as to get to know his own kin.

Trust radiated between human and beast, connections transcended out of the boundaries between the ordinary world and it offered them a place where they could wonder the touch of a woman's hand. So gentle and patient, yet firm and strict.

What might've taken a few weeks, turned into months when you were regularly greeted by whimpers that direly needed your attention so often, fur being shoved against your bare skin became a norm for you.

Pavia couldn't hold back the moment you kneeled down and spread your arms for Peter to dash in almost immediately:

Or the time you'd hold back your laughter from the drool being trailed against the floor to the cupboard when Andrea brushed past your leg.

Being patient with Maleficent, offering gentle pats and kisses for all to love.

When they'd all huddle around you, you're constantly in a battle of affection when they'd refuse to leave your side. They've lacked feminine touch, and neither the pups or Pavia realised how much it truly meant for your warmth to strike them all in the gut.

'Go to papa darlings.' ' Go help your papa, okay?'

To say he was astounded by how patient you were with them is something he'll never grow tired of. And 'Papa'? Pavia swooned.

How dare you attack him with that beautiful feeling of a heartache that swelled nothing but love and admiration for you?

When sleeping, they'd all huddle around you both. As if you were their parents, the ones they'd long for. Pavia never realised he needed such a domestic life until he had found you. When you offered that place of comfort, the only thing he'd need to ever worry about was straying too far away from you.

Gentle lips touched his own as you quietly mumble a soft 'thank you' as if to say you were honoured to have spent a lot of time with his blood. He couldn't explain how he wanted to thank you, but no words came out. He just held you. Right there, in his arms. And rocked back and forth as if to claim that he was grateful for all your hard work. Something he truly admired..

Your protection is guided by him, and your kin. You're one of them now, and you're entirely his. <3

#reverse 1999 #pavia #pavia reverse 1999 #reverse #pavia x reader #paviarev1999 #r99 pavia #reverse 1999 pavia #pavia fluff

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kendsleyauthor · 6 months ago

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#11 anon here again! glad to hear you’re still taking prompts. i love your and mary’s works ❤️ im shy so i stay on anon, but seriously, so much love to you guys! anyway, if youre so inclined, might i suggest prompt #1? keeping it simple. #11->1 lol. all your characters are awesome — i don’t think andreas and lorelei have been prompted yet, so maybe this can be a vote for them? but also, id love to hear more about the godlike trio; they’re so fun! what is their origin story?!! again, dealers choice, and thank you kindly !💕❤️

LIVING NIGHTMARE

TW: Drowning, fearplay stemming from genuine anger

Print / Trinket Universe (Andres and Lorelei)

~1800 words

G/t dialogue prompt list

Thank you so much for the prompt and the love, beautiful! I know it's been a long time, but I am determined to catch up as much as I can!! As far as the Godlike trio, it would be sooo fun to explore their origin story one day! It is dense, but it essentially involves human sacrifice, trickery, and immature nature god politics 😋

As for THIS story-- reader, if you're new to the trinket universe, this interaction may be startling lol. The TL;DR for this particular situation is that Lorelei must live in secret for her and Andres' safety 👀

@marydublinauthor 🌸

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her. Immense pressure sits on her torso. Does it count as drowning if she wouldn’t be able to draw a full breath anyway? Her heels slide against the bottom of the glass, tractionless. She claws at the finger pinning her down.

Each swipe weakens.

The pain begins to fade. It’s almost peaceful.

She hears that’s what happens right before you die from suffocation.

Calm.

Quiet.

Free.

But a peaceful death is too much to ask for.

The finger relinquishes pressure, and she is wracked with agony. She draws in a lungful of whiskey and thrashes. Although she wants nothing more than to fade away, to kiss this hell goodbye, her body fights to survive.

She pops up to stand on trembling legs, leaning hard against an ice cube. The coldness burns. She coughs raggedly. Laughter rumbles from above. Her recovering vision registers the giants around her as nothing more than massive blurs of color.

The shape of a hand hovers over the glass before descending upon her again. She manages a single, pleading whimper before she’s forced onto her back, pinned to the bottom of the glass.

Drowning.

Whiskey stings her eyes, blinding her. She can’t blink it away—it’s all around her.

Immense pressure—

“Lorelei!”

The voice was familiar. Loud, but not at all the same as the booming laughter.

She flinched awake, gripping fistfuls of blanket as she gasped for air. Each breath was a painfully overwhelming gift. She squinted in the lamplight which cast the sprawling living room with warmth. The high windows gave view to an overcast night sky.

Safe.

“Lorelei.”

Blinking, she made sense of Andres’ form leaning over her on the side table. To her confusion, there was no softness in his voice, no suggestion that he intended to soothe her from the nightmare. No, he wanted her attention, and anything else she might feel was secondary.

“Andres,” she said groggily.

“What is wrong with you?” He sounded like he was making a great deal of effort not to shout. She shrank away from the bite in his voice. “What were you thinking?”

Frowning, she sat up slowly. She couldn’t relinquish her grip on the blanket—not with the way he was looking at her. She felt like a child using her covers as a shield against the boogeyman. This had to still be a nightmare. There was no reality where Andres would glower at her like that anymore. If he was especially bitter about losing a game, perhaps—but even then, he scowled with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what she could have done in her sleep to piss him off.

“Were my screams of terror too loud?” she managed to croak. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”

He didn’t seem to register nor care what she said at all. “Madison Jones,” he said flatly.

Her heart climbed into her throat. Now she really wished she was dreaming.

“H-how…” But she knew at once. She must have forgotten to log out of the alias account. She wet her lips. “Let me explain—”

“How?” he snapped, voice rising. “There is no explanation that makes this any less idiotic! You are smarter than this, Lorelei!”

Heat flashed through her, vicious and all-consuming. “It’s idiotic to want to check up on old friends?”

“Wanting is one thing.” The ice in his voice threatened to douse her fire. “Doing… Doing this is…” His jaw worked as though he was too angry to speak.

He brandished his phone in her direction, the screen aglow. She turned her head. She didn’t need to look. He had gone through the chat logs of her alias and found every incriminating conversation of the past six months. Her hands shook on the blanket.

“I’ve been careful,” she said, softer. “They have no idea who I really am. They think I’m an aspiring player, new to the scene. A long-distance friend that they will never, ever meet.”

Tears pricked her eyes. God, she was pathetic.

And Andres wasn’t helping. He shook his head. “This ends now.”

“Please—”

“No. I cannot allow you to put us in danger like this. How could you be so stupid?”

The wildfire ignited again. She stood, shoving her blanket aside. She didn’t care that she had to crane her neck to meet his frostbitten glare. “So that’s it? You’re ordering me to happily isolate myself from the rest of the world—even with a solution right in front of our damn faces?”

“Zorra,” he cursed—a particular insult he’d never once aimed at her. “Your solution is going to get us investigated and caught.”

Her voice came out like a fist was squeezing her throat. “I miss my friends!”

He scoffed. “Am I not enough for you now?”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” She staggered two steps back, wondering how this could be the same person who cared for her, protected her. Sinking to her knees, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Should I be like this day and night? Thank you so much for being the only person in the world I can talk to for the rest of my life.”

For a single second, he looked hurt. “Stand up,” he gritted out. “I will not talk to you like this.”

But she was just as hurt and every bit as vicious, and she had to stop now before she said something she couldn’t apologize for. Rising to her feet, she turned her back on him and started for the makeshift stairway that would lead her to the floor. Throwing a pity party under a cabinet or sofa for the night would do her good.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To be alone,” she threw over her shoulder. “I can’t be around you right now.”

The last thing she expected was for him to deny her. Instead of sulking away or simply lapsing into disappointed silence, his voice lashed like a whip and made her flinch. “You are not going anywhere,” he said. “You are staying here. And talking.”

“About what?” She didn’t turn back, placing her hand on the railing. “Delete the profile yourself if it pisses you off so much.”

Silence. She thought that was the end of it, but no. “Come back,” he said through gritted teeth.

She said nothing, starting down the stairs.

A sudden tug at the back of her nightgown made her breath catch. She instinctively tried to wrench herself free, even if it would send her tumbling down the steps. In an instant, she was whisked off her feet. She gave a choked shriek as air whipped past her, and she found herself dangling in front of Andres’ infuriated face.

“Forgive me for not being better company,” he said venomously. “But I am trying to keep us both alive.”

Alive.

She was helpless.

She was drowning again.

“Stop!” she howled, half expecting precious air bubbles to rise from her lips. Her voice pitched into a scream that she only ever heard in her nightmares. “I’m sorry! I-I’m sorry!”

As quickly as it happened, it was over. She only caught a glimpse of Andres’ astonished expression before he lowered her into his waiting palm and released her. She scrabbled back, bumping against his fingers and burying her face in her knees.

“Lorelei?” he whispered.

He touched her shoulder, and she screamed. The air whirled again, and she dared to peek out. His hand rested on the side table beside her bed, offering escape. She jolted out of her fetal position, falling to hands and knees in her desperation to get away. Stumbling to her bed, she pulled her blanket tightly over herself, shaking too hard to make it to a better hiding place. She didn’t care how childish it was—she needed to reduce her world to a small space of darkness.

“Lorelei.” His voice was reverent, dripping with regret.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, her wail reduced to a whimper.

“No. No, I am.” His voice cracked. Another gentle touch brushed her back through the blanket, pausing to gauge her reaction. She didn’t scream again, dreading that he was about to pull the sheet off of her. But he didn’t. He kept stroking, his breathing unsteady. “Please come out. I never meant to scare you like that. I…” Silence dragged for several seconds, and the touch of his finger pulled away. “Did I hurt you?”

She quietly assessed herself. “No.”

Another pause.

“Can you show me?” His words were a plea, not an order.

Hesitantly, she sat up and pulled the blanket off her head, letting it fall to her shoulders. His dark eyes searched her intensely for any sign that his rough handling left a mark. Even when he seemed sure that she was unhurt, he stayed close, staring into her eyes.

She broke the silence floating between them. “I couldn’t help it,” she admitted, looking down in shame. “I… I can’t just pretend I didn’t have another life. I miss my friends. My family.”

For a moment, she worried his anger would rise up again. But he looked almost as exhausted as she felt. Glancing at his phone, he pursed his lips. “Your family is not in the chat logs,” he noted.

“I…” She sniffled. “I picked people I wasn’t especially close to.”

“Why?”

She managed the smallest laugh. “I know you think I’m an impulsive idiot. And you’re right, I can be. So I gave myself limits.” Her shoulders slumped. “I knew if I reached out to my family, I wouldn’t be able to keep the secret up. Sooner or later, I’d spill everything just so they wouldn’t have to live another day wondering if I was alive or dead or swimming in someone’s drink.”

He regarded her with raised eyebrows like something was dawning on him. “You were tangled in the sheets when I came in,” he said slowly. His expression fell, and she dropped her gaze. She’d opened up about the nature ofher recurring nightmares before. “It was a bad one. I should have noticed I should have waited.” He sighed heavily, and his finger returned to stroke her hair down. “Are you alright?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

His finger paused. “Do you want me to leave?” he murmured.

She could tell that her hesitation hurt him more than anything. But ultimately, she shook her head again. Raising her hand, she found his finger and guided it to her side. She leaned against the warmth of his skin.

“Lorelei…” His eyes flicked up and down, drinking her in with fondness steeped in loving fear. She braced herself for the inevitable—the gentle but firm order to never pull something like this again. But he was full of surprises tonight. “I trust you. Please—give me another chance to be the kind of man you are not afraid to keep secrets from.”

Her tears spilled over, and she pressed a kiss to his knuckle. “I think I can do that.”

(A/N: I've had this on the backburner for so long, I'm glad to finally post it! I'm sorry that my first short story in a while is a gut punch lol 💞)

#gt #g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #gt story #g/t story #gt fandom #g/t fandom #giant tiny #gt fearplay #g/t fearplay #my writing #print universe #trinket universe #print universe story #trinket universe story #oc: andres #oc: lorelei

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 7 months ago

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So um....can I get Yandere Andrea Graves (genderbent andrew)....please I'm desperat-

OH- an Andrea request??? Hell yeah I can do that!

TW: Yandere Behavior, Brief mentions of cigarette burns, assault, implied murder

Yandere!Andrea Graves x Reader

(Edit by Junkcoon on Reddit)

You love your girlfriend- really, truthfully you do

And she loves you too….maybe more than you love her

It’s such an intense, deep love that scares you sometimes

Purely because of how deep that love goes

The times she showed emotions, it was always so intense

Her adoration for you

Her detest for passersby who so much as looked at you wrong

Her panic attacks of fear when the nightmares hit

All- so intense for your usually quiet girlfriend

The panic attacks especially

She’d hold on to you, like you were going to float away. Her tears staining your shirt as she cried into your shoulder. Sometimes her nails would dig into your skin so hard it left marks

She was scared of losing you, and despite your reassurance that those fears would never come to fruition- she was still weary

Weary of everyone. Strangers walking by. Friends of yours from work or hobbies. Even your own family.

She’d glare at them like they were the scum of the earth

She loved you too much to let you get hurt

“Love…could we talk?”

The two of you had been cuddling on the couch, your head nestled against her chest as she idly smoked. It shocked you how used you got to the smell of cigarettes, in fact- you weirdly found it comforting. Your eyes blinked open as her mellow voice hit your eyes, your attention turned to your girlfriend.

Andrea was looking elsewhere, smoke wafting from the cancer stick she found oh-so comforting. You snuggled closer to her, nodding.

“Of course,” you loved her voice. It was so soothing, “What’d you want to talk about?”

Andrea paused before she sighed, “You know I love you? Right?”

Faintly, her voice cracked, almost like that question was too difficult to muster. You responded by wrapping your arms around her waist, nuzzling your cheek against her chest and sighing with content.

“Of course I do,” you replied so matter-of-factly, “With all my heart.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw her lips upturn into a small smile. Andrea leaned down, kissing the top of your head. Her black hair cascaded down and tickled your face, making you smile wider.

“And you’ve got a big heart doll,” her hand rested on your back, rubbing gentle circles against it. She then, with a somber tone, murmured, “…that’s what worries me, ya know?”

You perked up, opening your mouth to speak- but Andrea continued.

“You’re so sweet, so gentle, so…naive.” She looked away from you as her green eyes darkened with scorn, “Pricks of this dumpster fire of a world chew that up til it’s nothing but a husk they can’t have fun with anymore.”

“Andy..” you lifted your head from her chest, Andrea’s hand that had resided on your back cupping your cheek.

“I want you to know Y/N,” her eyes bore holes into your own, “I won’t ever let that happen.”

What would be considered such a comforting conversation, this had deeper undertones. There was a malice in Andrea’s voice that made you flinch. The way she held your face, it wasn’t comforting- no- this was possessive.

Possessive is a good way to describe Andrea

From small things to holding your hand in public

To putting her cigarettes out on your neck as a means of “marking” you

You’ve grown tolerant of the pain, even starting to like it

It’s almost like a kiss- a very twisted and morbid kiss

You used to scoff at Andrea’s concerns, chalking it up to paranoia

Keyword: used to

You held the pillow close to your person, breathing shakily with a panicked look in your one open eye. The other was swollen shut with a purplish red bruise. You had been on your way home when some assailant attempted to steal your stuff. You gave them more of a fight than anticipated, only getting away with 20 bucks from your wallet. Though, you didn’t get home unscathed.

The moment Andrea had seen that black eye, she was doting on you- asking several questions as she treated your bruise. Thankfully you hadn’t been stabbed or worse, but the experience still shook you up. Once you had calmed down, Andrea asked more questions about your mugger. What they looked like, where this happened, when did this happen- basic questions. After relaying the information, she said she would be back and left. You presumed to give this information to the police or- someone who could help….but it was getting late and you were worrying.

You missed her warm embrace. The smell of cigarettes that clung to her thick black sweater. Her comforting voice. Her beautiful green eyes. You wanted her to be with you so badly it ate you from the inside.

The sound of the door opening was like a starting gun to you, your body immediately flinging itself off of the couch and running to hug whoever came through that door. You practically sobbed as the smoke hit your nostrils and the warm sweater nestled against your cheek. Andrea slunk down to the ground, holding you as you sobbed. In your desperate state to feel the comfort she provided you with….you failed to notice the blood on her hands.

“It’s okay love…” she spoke in a hushed tone, “I’ve got you…..”

“No one will hurt you again.”

#‘why am i into this?’ was one of the many questions i asked myself while writing this #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #tcoaal #andrea graves #andrew graves x reader #andrea graves x reader #x reader #tw yandere #this was great!#genuinely did not think I would get an x Andrea request

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autisticlenaluthor · 1 year ago

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Supercorptober - Wild

Lena cringes. She presses herself up against the wall, trying to make herself as shapeless and unseemly as possible.

It isn’t too hard. In the middle of a frat- surrounded by sweaty college kids and blinding lights, Lena may as well not even exist.

She looks down and awkwardly tries to adjust her costume. Andrea convinced her to dress as Easy A— a reference to a movie Lena’s never seen that was apparently the perfect costume, because ‘You’ve got great tits, Lena. You can’t not show them off!’

It seemed like a fun idea at the time. But now, stuck in a black corset with a red ‘A’ taped to the breast, Lena wants nothing more than to wring her so-called friend’s neck. She’s alone and she’s sweating, and god, it’s so loud, Lena can’t help the way her entire body constricts as she digs her nails into her palms to try and give herself something else to focus on. It all makes her want to crawl out of her skin. No- it’s enough to make her really try. She’s got the crescent moon scars and scratch marks to prove it.

Out of nowhere, someone stumbles into her.

Lena flinches but not far enough to keep the solo cup filled with something that smells like battery acid from spilling all over her. She yelps at the sensation. She’s wet now— wet and sticky. Sticky on her skin, with dampness seeping under the corset, into every crevice of her body. And before she realizes what she’s doing— Lena’s shaking her hands out, desperate for release. But it isn’t enough, nothing is. She needs out and she needs out now.

The drink-less pledge watches the reaction. His eyes drift down to her chest and he laughs. But Lena can’t help herself. Not with the noise and the lights and the people (fuck, there are so many people) and the liquid dripping down her skin.

She should’ve never come here, she thinks. She hates parties. She hates Andrea for making her dress up. She hates her for choosing an outfit she knew would make people stare. And she hates her for ditching her at the first sight of her current situationship.

Lena puts her hands up to her face. She can feel the meltdown brewing inside of her. It’s hot and angry— begging, no threatening to be forced out.

Her face grows hot as she sucks in a breath. She can feel something touching her. Someone touching her.

Lena’s head turns and she sees a hand on her shoulder. It’s attached to a blonde girl in a Supergirl costume who smiles and raises her brow.

“Hey, you okay?” She shouts over the music. “I saw that guy bump into you.”

Lena doesn’t respond. She’s supposed to say yes. College kids are supposed to party— that’s what they do. They have fun, they unwind, they get drunk with their friends. It’s supposed to be a reward, not something they have to fight themselves to survive.

When she doesn’t speak, Supergirl answers for her.

“Let’s go outside!” She yells. “It’s really wild in here.”

Lena nods and before she knows it, the hand is on her wrist. Supergirl holds her lightly, her fingers hardly pressing against Lena’s at all. It seems like she’s done this before. The way she pulls hard enough that they don’t get separated but not so intensely that Lena feels dragged— she definitely knows what she’s doing. In front of her, Lena can see her free arm occasionally flail out to shove away drunken men or oblivious couples mid-make out. And before she knows it, they’re outside on the lawn, a few yards away from the frat house.

The music still blares but it’s softened by the walls. The crowd has been replaced with the chirp of grasshoppers and a girl a few feet away, arguing into her phone.

Supergirl releases her hold on Lena’s wrist and finally, Lena can feel the air return to her lungs. Real air, untainted by alcohol or flavored vape juice.

“You okay?” the blonde asks again after a moment. Her voice is much softer this time, her smile now relaxed.

Covering her mouth again, Lena inhales. She nods and stares straight down at the grass.

All she can think about is how badly she misses her dorm. She wants to be inside with all the lights off, in her favorite safe pajamas, not a damn corset and skinny jeans. She needs to be alone, protected by those four walls so she can stim freely without anyone seeing. She needs a break.

“I know it can get really crazy,” the girl continues. “If you wanna be alone for a minute, that’s totally cool and I’ll leave. You just looked like you wanted to get out of there.”

Lena nods again. Using all the strength she has, she manages to pull her hand away from her face and instead, wrap her arms protectively around her waist.

“Thank you,” she breathes, doing her best to muster up a smile.

“Of course.”

“My friend…” Lena pulls her fingertips and pops her knuckles. “She dragged me to this. Then left me.”

She laughs as she says it because it sounds even more pathetic out loud. She’s nineteen years old— she shouldn’t need a chaperone, like a middle schooler.

But Supergirl frowns, nervously scratching her cheek.

“Yeah… so did mine.”

Lena lifts her head, eyes widening just a bit.

“Well— my roommate and her friend group. They always go out and I never do but I thought Halloweekend might be fun because at least you get to dress up. But they all left to go get with guys. I was actually trying to find my roommate so we could leave when I saw you.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

Supergirl shrugs.

“It’s whatever."

“But thank you… again, for rescuing me. Normally I- I’m better at handling this stuff.”

“You don’t need to thank me….” Her voice trails off. “What’s your name?”

“Lena.”

A smile.

“You don’t need to thank me, Lena. It’s just what I do.” She poses with her hands on her hips, like Supergirl in all the comics, managing to hold the stance for half a second before both she and Lena collapse into a fit of laughter.

“I’m Kara, by the way,” she says once it calms down.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” Lena says.

She wraps her arms around herself once more, suddenly becoming aware again of just how exposed she is. It doesn’t help that outside, it’s freezing cold. Her arms are covered in goosebumps– when did those pop up? And she can’t stop her teeth from chattering.

“Oh–” When Kara notices her shivering, she takes off her cape and extends her arm, wordlessly offering it to Lena.

Lena just looks up, confused. She wants to ask if Kara’s always this nice. She wants to ask why she’s so nice– because what makes a strange girl, cowering in a corner at a party, so deserving?

But she manages to keep it in, instead, accepting the cape and slowly draping it over her shoulders.

“I um… I should get back to my dorm,” Lena says after a moment. “I’m in the East Campus building… it’s kind of a hike.”

“Wait– really? I’m in East too!”

“Would you…” Lena hesitates, hoping the darkness is enough to hide how red she flushes. “Would you want to walk back together?”

“Yeah!” Kara grins “That would be great.”

#supercorp fanfiction #supercorptober2023 #autistic lena luthor #supercorp ficlet

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jessicaloons · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 35:

I’m standing on a tightrope, alone…

Masterlist - Previous - Next

TW: panic attack

"Lizzie?" JK snapped his fingers in front of my face and I blinked, looking around.

"What?" I asked confused.

"Where are you?" he tilted his head a little.

"Where am I? Here? Right in front of you?"

"No, silly. Where are you in here?" he poked my forehead with his index finger and I sighed "That bad?"

"Where do you want me to start?" I chuckled sarcastically.

"How about what’s with you and Charles?" he said and I grimaced "Ouhhh, hit the nail on the head at the first go. So, what’s with you and lover boy?"

"We had a fight. No… it wasn’t really a fight, more a disagreement? I don’t know…" I mumbled, plopping down on the bench.

"About?"

"Umm-… I got a call from a psychiatric hospital…" I began but stopped.

"Diaz wants to talk to you, right?" JK said and I looked up.

"How did you know?"

"Makes sense. He’s facing a serious sentence, making amends and showing remorse looks good and might make the judge more lenient when it comes to a trial…" he sat down next to me and handed me my water.

"You think he’s only doing it for show? He’s not being honest?"

"He assaulted you 3 times. He harassed and blackmailed you. I don’t know… how much could he change already in not even 3.5 weeks?"

"Charles thinks the same…" I sighed and JK chuckled "What?"

"So you said you want to go and talk to him and Charles doesn’t want you to go, that’s why you fought? Or disagreed over?" he asked and I nodded "Does that surprise you? I only heard what happened and want to kill this dude… Charles had to witness how he almost killed you… yeah harsh words, but it’s the ugly truth. Charles walked in on Diaz almost choking you to death… I think that he doesn’t want you anywhere near him ever again is just a normal reaction."

"I know, okay? It’s just… doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance? He might be sick? Have a mental disease? Maybe he needs this to heal?" I said when the door slammed shut and I flinched, turning around. I didn’t expect to see him here. The Ferrari team debrief always took way longer than the Audi ones.

"Unbelievable." Charles looked at me, a scowl on his face "You know I actually thought about it… thought about you might need this to find closure, that that’s the reason you consider it. But no, of course not… you want to go because he might need it to heal…"

"I don’t need to talk to him to find closure. I’m fine." I stood up and grabbed the dumbbells.

"Yeah? You’re fine? And what about at night? When you have nightmares? When you wake up, tear soaked face, whimpering, shaking? Totally fine." Charles scoffed "You don’t even want to talk to Dr. Lindner, cancelling all your appointments… you’re totally fine."

"I don’t need to talk about every little thing that has happened to me…"

"Every little thing?" Charles interrupted me "Every little thing? Lizzie, after everything he’s done to you, you owe him nothing! He forced himself onto you, groping you, kissing you, all without your consent, that is sexual assault! He began harassing you, asking you disgusting questions and when you didn’t answer he assaulted you again, blackmailing you. Threatening our family? He wanted you to manipulate races, he wanted you to commit a freaking crime! And when you didn’t do what he wanted, he tried to kill you in your own fucking home! Nothing of all of that is a little thing… and all of it combined?"

I sat down on the bench again and began my first set of shoulder presses with the dumbbells.

"And now you’re ignoring me? Very mature…" Charles shook his head and walked away, Andrea followed him.

I kept on doing my set and when I was done sat down the dumbbells. JK kept staring at me for the next sets and after a while I had enough.

"Say it. Come on…" I groaned but he only shook his head.

"I’m not going to tell you what to do. But just so you know, Charles is right… you owe Diaz nothing." he said and packed away the elastic bands and ropes "Finish this set and we’re done for today."

I nodded and finished the set, watching Charles in the mirror in the back doing his sets more aggressive than ever before. I packed up my things and left, straight into our hotel room where I took a long shower, thinking about what Charles had said yesterday, but also today.

He was right, I had nightmares, Diaz face appearing night after night in front of my eyes. His hands clutching tightly around my throat. When I woke up I still felt their touch on my skin. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to talk to him? See him ever again. It was more the fact that everyone told me to talk about what happened. How everyone was patronising me like I was a little girl. They all looked at me like I was a fragile, little bird. Made out of glass. Needed them to handle me with kid gloves. It was frustrating. I wanted this to be over. Once and for all. Over. Done. I wanted to know why he did all of that. Why he hated me so much? Because I rejected him in 2019? He was still holding a grudge on me after 4 years? That couldn’t be it. That just couldn’t be all. And that’s what I needed to know. The whole story. But I didn’t like how everyone tried to tell me how to feel. How to behave. Talking to him to find closure would only proof them right. And I hated it. So damn much.

Charles POV:

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Andrea asked when I saw Lizzie packing up her things and leaving without saying a word.

"There’s nothing to talk about… she doesn’t listen to me anyway. She’s doing whatever she wants to do and I have to accept it. It’s like this." I replied and continued my work out.

After a while Andrea stopped me.

"We’re done for today. It’s not working like this Charles, you’re too aggressive. You’ll hurt yourself if we continue." he said and I sighed "You should talk to Lizzie…"

"Yeah… I will, for now I’ll go on the treadmill doing a little run…"

"But just that! Then you go back to Lizzie and talk!" Andrea cocked an eyebrow and I nodded "Good! I’ll leave you alone. I don’t need to watch you running, but don’t go crazy!"

"I won’t, promise!" I said and waved him goodbye.

Not even two minutes of running and my thoughts were already spinning around Lizzie. I had to talk to someone and I had an idea to who.

Stepping out of the gym shower, I dressed up and then took a deep breath dialling the number, hoping he would pick up as I was in dire need of his advice.

"Charles, how are you kiddo?"

"Hey Seb! I’m sorry for calling this late… I’m- I’m okay. How are you? How’s Hanna? The kids?"

"You know me, I’m always just fine… as for the family… well I guess they’re annoyed by my presence every now and then and it’s not even that late, just because I have kids, my day doesn’t end at 8, you know.." he laughed and I joined in "So, Charles… what’s going on? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to hear from you, but I know you good enough to know that something’s going on?"

"Yeah… you’re right…" I sighed "I just need to talk to someone…"

"Alright… I wasn’t planning on showing up before Sunday somewhere near the track, but I’m in Silverstone… there is this little pub, meet me there in half an hour?" he said and I felt relieved.

"Thank you Seb, really!" I smiled, slipping into my shoes.

"It’s okay, I meant what I said when I left the team, whenever you need me, you can always call. I’ll send you the address."

25 minutes later I parked the car and got out, looking for the bistro.

"Charles!" Seb waved me over and got up when I walked up to him "Good to see you." he hugged me and I had to smile. A bear hug from Seb always felt great.

"Hey Seb! Thanks for meeting up with me." I said when we sat down.

"No worries. You can always call." he smiled as a waiter came over to take our order "I’ll have a beer, Lager, from the tap."

"I’ll have a coke." I ordered and the waiter left again.

"So, how’s Lizzie? I texted and called after I heard what happened but she wasn’t really talking about it…" Seb looked at me.

"She says she’s fine… but she’s not… she doesn’t want to talk about it though. With no one, not even her therapist." I sighed when the waiter returned with our drinks. We thanked him and I took a sip of the cold coke before I groaned "I was so fucking blind! Everything he did to her happened right under my nose and I didn’t realise it."

"We all didn’t! Lizzie has many talents, but one of her biggest ones is for sure masking her own feelings and acting like everything is fine. She talked to me last year about Diaz. But it was only about how he asks all of this inappropriate questions, harassing her! Would I’ve known what he was doing to her?" he stopped and shook his head.

"She has nightmares. She wakes up screaming, shaking, scared and confused… I hate it. I feel like I can’t do anything to help her…" I began but Seb shook his head.

"You’re there for her. That’s all you can do at the moment! Don’t think like what you’re doing isn’t enough!"

"I don’t know… his doctor called… he wants to talk to Lizzie… and I think she considers going. But not for herself, no, she would do it for him! Because apparently everyone deserves a second chance…" I scoffed.

"Hmm…" Seb only hummed and I looked at him "Lizzie often says things to hide her true feelings? Maybe this time she’s doing it as well? Maybe she needs this. Needs to talk to him to find closure herself? But she just doesn’t know it yet? Or not fully?"

"If she wants to talk to him for herself then I’m there for her 100%. I’ll fully support her! But if she really wants to talk to him for his sake? To help him? How could I support that? I want to-…" I began but stopped, playing with my bracelet.

"You want to see him suffer? Rot in hell?"

"I want to see him dead." I swallowed hard, not able to meet Seb’s eyes on me.

"Charles? Hey?" he said and I slowly looked up, feeling bad for saying such a thing "It’s okay to feel like this… it really is. What he did to Lizzie? What he did to you? It’s just understandable. Don’t be too hard on yourself!"

"I never felt this much hate in my entire life." I admitted after a while and Seb only nodded "He didn’t just hurt Lizzie. He also dragged Sissy and Liam, Liam out of all people, into this whole mess…"

"He also hurt you! Don’t forget yourself, Charles."

"I don’t care about myself. I care about Lizzie, I care about Sissy, I care about Liam!"

"One of the many reasons why you and Lizzie are perfect for each other is that you both always put everyone else above you… but this all isn’t just about Lizzie. He dragged you into it. He hurt you as well. It’s okay to feel like this. And it’s also okay to not want him anywhere near Lizzie ever again."

"So what do I do? Just tell her it’s okay if she wants to see him? Tell her to go ahead and sit in a room with the guy he almost killed her?" I scoffed a little.

"No. You tell her exactly how you feel. Why you don’t want her near him. But that you will fully support her decision if she really wants to talk to him… I know you don’t like it. But sometimes we have to swallow down our feelings in order to help the people that we love the most." Seb smiled a little and after a while I nodded.

"Thank you. Really. I just needed to talk to someone. I just… thank you, Seb!" I said and he just shrugged his shoulders.

"Whenever you need me, you can call me. Whenever you need a little timeout from everything, you can always come visit me. Just because I’m not racing anymore doesn’t mean that I’m out of the world, you know?" he chuckled a little.

"I don’t like racing without you… it’s just not the same anymore." I admitted but he shook his head.

"My time had come. There will be a time when you will feel the same. When always being away from your family is becoming more and more draining. When racing alone doesn’t make you happy anymore. I had reached this point actually in my last year with Ferrari. But I continued… and I dreaded it. One day when you feel the same, you know what I’m talking about." he waved the waiter over and paid for our drinks "And now go back to Lizzie. Talk to her. When I learned one thing in life it’s that talking solves most of our problems…"

"Thank you Seb! For everything!" we got up and I hugged him "I see you on Sunday?"

"You can bet on it!" he smiled and waved when he walked off, getting on his bike and I had to chuckle a little.

"Lizzie?" I asked into the room when I opened the door to our hotel room. No reply. The room was empty. I looked for a note or anything. Nothing. No text. No missed call. Nothing. I called her just to land straight on her mailbox. It was already half past ten.

"Hey Charles, everything’s good?" JK asked when he picked up.

"Yeah. Do you know where Lizzie is? She’s not in our hotel? She left the gym way earlier than I did?"

"Not since the gym?" he replied and I sighed.

"Alright. If she texts you or calls you, can you let me know?"

"Sure thing. And Charles? I’m 100 % on your side on this… the only reason for her to see him should be for her closure. Her peace of mind. Not for his sake. He doesn’t deserve it…" JK said and I smiled a little.

"Thanks JK. I just wish Lizzie would see it that way…"

"Deep down I think she does… but you know her, never show any kind of weakness. Which is weird, because she’s the toughest person I know…" he said.

"She really is. She just needs to see it…"

"Yeah. I’m sure she will one day… but for now, I’ll give her a call and check in on her, then I let you know where she is, okay?"

"Thanks JK." I said and we hung up.

I changed into sweatpants and a shirt and grabbed the room service menu, ordering two salads, two sandwiches, that way Lizzie could eat something when she came back.

After 20 minutes JK texted me that Lizzie was back in the gym, running. I considered joining her, but maybe she needed some time to think. Alone. So I waited. And waited. I went to bed and turned on the tv, watching a survival show, still waiting for Lizzie. After a while I drifted off to sleep.

I stared at the sandwich and the salad on the table, looking over at Charles, asleep. Even though he was mad at me, he still looked out for me. I hated it. I hated how perfect he was. It made me feel even worse. I grabbed the food and sat down on the sofa, eating in silence, before I took a shower and climbed into bed, careful not to wake Charles up.

I ran at least 20 kilometres tonight but I still felt restless. I watched the time ticking away and before any of our alarms went off I got up and dressed. I just slipped into my shoes when I saw Charles stirring in the bed, I grabbed my bag and phone and quietly opened the door, right when I was through the door I heard Charles calling after me. But I stepped outside and closed the door, almost sprinting to the elevator.

"So I guess you haven’t talked to Charles?" I flinched when I stepped out of the elevator and bumped into JK.

"What?" I looked at him, heart racing.

"I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. That you’re here now, means that you left before Charles woke up, to not talk to him…"

"JK…" I began but he groaned.

"This is stupid, Liz. And you know it! Charles didn’t do anything wrong. The only thing he did was tell you that he didn’t like the thought of you going to see the guy who not just harassed you for years, but also assaulted you. Can you blame him that he wants to protect you?" JK gave me a stern look "Yeah that’s what I thought. The only reason you don’t want to talk to him is that you don’t want to admit that you’re wrong! Because you’re too freaking stubborn!"

"I’ll talk to him, okay? Tonight! I just need a clear head today." I sighed and he nodded.

"I’ll just grab my stuff and we can leave…" he said and stepped into the elevator.

"I’m waiting here…"

I got out of the car, shaking my head.

"What was that?" I asked Pete and he sighed.

"Sorry Lizzie, he should’ve been warned..."

"I guess this year won’t be as good as last year here." I mumbled going into the back of the garage.

"The race is tomorrow, come on!" JK said and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah? Starting from P6? I can do shit tomorrow…" I groaned. Sitting down. I fucked up the quali. I couldn’t manage to get the car and the tyres in the right window. I would start right behind Sainz and Charles.

"Sainz probably will attack Charles right at the start since there are no real team orders as it seems, maybe you can slip past them while they battle each other?" JK said and I nodded. Maybe.

I went to the media pen with Julie, bumping straight into Charles.

"Sorry." I mumbled and he nodded.

"It’s fine. Sorry for your quali. I think you had the pace to be better…" he said looking at me and I nodded.

"Yeah… I don’t know. Maybe." I replied and he nodded now as well "I have to…"

"Yeah. Me too. See you later?" he asked.

"Yup." I hummed and walked past him.

"Okay? What’s going on? That was painful to watch? You two weren’t your usual self for the whole weekend?" Julie asked and I cocked an eyebrow.

"Our usual self? What does that even mean?"

"Oh you know what I mean! Not all cute. Stolen kisses here, loving gazes there. No jokes. No banter. What’s going on?" she looked at me pointedly.

"We had a disagreement and now we’re both petty and stubborn…" I answered and she sighed.

"Kids…" she mumbled and I laughed.

"You’re not that much older than me!"

"I’m turning 31 this year! To me, you are a kid! A kid that should talk to her adorable boyfriend…" she gently nudged my shoulder and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah maybe…" I said, putting on a fake smile for the interviews.

I sat in our hotel room, waiting for Charles to return and when I heard the door opening I laid back, pretending to read in my book.

"Hey…" he whispered and I put my book down.

"Hey." I replied, watching him shrugging out of his jacket, hanging it up.

"Have you eaten?" he asked and I looked at the clock to his right, half past 11 "Stupid question. Sorry."

"It’s okay…" I sat up, putting my bookmark into my book, closing it.

"I’ll take a shower." he grabbed his sweatpants and a shirt, then disappeared in the bathroom.

I groaned, falling back into my pillows. Why was it so hard to just say that I was sorry. Or that he was right. I waited for him to come back out and he when he did I looked at him.

"What? Do I have something in my face?" he asked and I shook my head.

"No- I just… I wanted to… umm-…" I stammered and he sighed, laying down next to me "I appreciate your concern… I really do. I just- I don’t know. I need time to think about this whole thing, you know?"

"About what exactly?" he looked at me.

"The whole Diaz thing…"

"Okay."

"Okay?" I repeated.

"Okay." he said again and I groaned.

"That’s it?" I asked and turned a little.

"It’s your decision and whatever you decide, I support you." he said.

"Okay."

Talk to him Lizzie. That’s what JK said and that’s what I did. Almost. But did I feel better? No. Not at all

"Good night, Lizzie."

"Good night, Charles."

"FUCK!" I screamed. I was furious. What was I thinking. Not even 10 laps and the race was already over.

"Are you okay? Lizzie?" Pete asked and I huffed.

No. I wasn’t okay. I just crashed out of the race. Because of my own mistake.

"Yeah, I’m alright. I am so fucking stupid! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!" I said and shook my head. The marshals already running on track to get us out of our cars.

"He’s okay, too." Pete said and I just sighed.

"Thanks… I switch everything off. I’m sorry for the whole team!" I pulled out the steering wheel, feeling a stinging pain in my wrist. When I unbuckled my seatbelt, the pain got worse. I stood up, groaning a little in pain when I held onto the halo trying to climb out. One of the marshals looked up and then helped me out.

"Are you okay?" he asked and I nodded "You wanna wait for the med car? Or wait for a scooter?”

"I’ll walk. I’m fine." I said and looked across the track, at the entrance of the corner, spun around with it’s rear stuck in the tech pro barrier was Charles’ Ferrari, he stood next to it, talking to the marshal, as if he sensed that I was looking at him he turned into my direction. It looked like he wanted to walk over to me but stopped himself from doing it. I turned around and followed the marshal, he helped me climbing over the fence, when a searing pain shot through my back and I gasped loudly. The marshal turned around and I only shook my head. The pain subsiding already, although I still felt a little tension, that got better and better with every step I took. I silently followed the marshal and watched on a screen how my car got lifted up in the air. I groaned, bad enough that I screwed up my race, no the one I had to take out was Charles. I walked as fast as possible to the pits, wanting to arrive at my garage before Charles was brought back, that was a confrontation I didn’t want to play out in front of the media. As I walked up the pit lane the camera man was following me and I tried my best to not acknowledge him, good choice still wearing my helmet, no one could see the tears I was crying. Out of anger and frustration. JK waited for me and side hugged me to shield me off a little from the camera. We walked into the garage and I just shook my head and opened my visor a little.

"I’m sorry Felix. I really thought I could make it!" I said and Felix just rubbed my back.

"It’s alright, you wanted to go for it… next time try to go for a bigger gap and if possible at a wider part of the track… and for your own sake not against your boyfriend." he said and smiled encouraging at me. I just groaned and nodded and he pushed me away laughing "Sit down for a moment and have something to drink! It’s alright, Lizzie."

I walked through the garage and apologised to my mechanics and the whole crew, then I sat down and JK brought me a towel and something to drink.

"You wanna keep that helmet on forever?" he chuckled and I shook my head, before slowly taking it off.

"I just didn’t want the cameras to catch me crying out of anger! They will twist it into me being an emotional woman crying after crashing into her boyfriend…" I sighed and JK laughed.

"But that’s what you’re doing!" he said and I rolled my eyes "Just kidding! I know, it’s all good like this. You sure you’re alright? No pain? Tension?"

"Yeah, there will be tension as soon as Charles will come for me!" I whispered and JK only shrugged.

"It won’t be that bad, don’t worry!" he said and I rolled my eyes.

"He could be on the podium! Maybe even win! And I am the reason why he didn’t even get a single point out of today!" I said and JK squeezed my left shoulder.

"Just give him your puppy eyes and you’re good!" he laughed and I smacked his shoulder, hissing in pain "Okay, you’re in pain!” JK gently took my hand and started stretching my fingers, carefully twisting my wrist and I groaned "Liz! You can’t hide something like that! Race suit off, now!"

I got up from the chair and pulled the zipper of my race suit down, then JK helped pull off the sleeves carefully. He examined the movements I could make without pain, then walked off and watched a replay of my crash on of the screens He watched it again and then came back.

"Why did you grip the steering wheel even tighter? You know to take your hands off the moment you know you’ll crash! I need to see your whole arm, come on." he said and I followed him in the back room where I pulled my fireproofs off, seeing my wrist being already swollen, then he stretched my arm, bent it, pressed my shoulder "Oh Liz, you would’ve left now like this without saying something?" he murmured and I just shrugged "So, nothing’s broken, but it’s definitely heavily bruised. I’d say we let a doc check it, make sure it’s not strained. You want to go to the meds now, they’d give you painkillers?"

"No it’s fine, I just keep it still and that’s okay." I said and he helped me back in my fireproofs "I just want to find Julie, go straight to the media pen and be done with it."

"Good thing I’m already here." Julie chimed in and I nodded.

"Let me just have a look in the mirror." I said and walked into the bathroom, wiped off my face and smoothed down my hair, before I hissed in pain again.

"Stay here." JK gave me a stern look before he walked away again and came back at moment later with some bandages and gauze "I’ll make a temporary splint and sling."

"Thanks, JK." I mumbled and Julie and I walked off "Is it only Logan, Charles and me who are out?"

"No, Esteban and George crashed just one lap after the restart." Julie said and I nodded "I’m sorry, Lizzie, but I have Sky Italy, Germany and UK. Also Canal+."

"Sky Italy? They’ll kill me!" I sighed and Julie nudged me gently.

"It will be fine." she said encouragingly and I simply nodded.

"Hmm. If you say so." I held my head low. Sky Italy will kill me. The Tifosi will kill me. Charles. I just hoped he was having a long talk with his team before he would come into the media pen. Long enough for me to be back in the garage again when he arrived. I took a deep breath and walked up to Mara Sangiorgio.

"Lizzie. Hi. Unfortunate ending to a promising race? What happened?" she asked.

"I underestimated how narrow that corner really was. It was my mistake. I wanted too much. I felt like with the DRS I could overtake Charles, maybe stay ahead of him long enough for him to ruin his tyres as we know the Ferraris’ weak spot are the tyres! But I made a mistake, we touched and unfortunately both spun out."

"Last season you won here…"

"Yeah, last season our car was a little easier to drive, not as stiff as it is now. But it’s getting better and better with each weekend… but today it wasn’t the car, it was me. I made a mistake and that cost me not just my race…" I began before I took a deep breath and continued in Italian, looking straight into the camera "I’m so sorry for Charles, Ferrari and all Tifosi. I misjudged the situation and ended both of our races. I’m really, really sorry to all Tifosi."

"Thank you Lizzie." she smiled at me and I nodded, following Julie to the next interview, right when Charles entered the media pen. I swallowed hard, turning away, trying to focus on my interview. I felt his look on me, but tried to ignore him.

"Sorry? What was the question?" I asked Nathalie who smiled empathically at me.

"I asked if you’re okay? Your arm?" she nodded at my arm in the sling.

"Yeah I kinda held onto the steering wheel a little too tight when I crashed into the wall. It’s a little bruised, my coach just wants to be extra careful." I replied and she nodded.

"Thank you Lizzie, take care."

"Thank you." I smiled a little and looked at Julie.

"Canal+ now and then we’re done."

"Great…" I just knew that Candice Boucher won’t have a single nice word for me.

"Lizzie, hi. What a race." she said, a sneer like smile on her lips "How do you rate your weekend?"

"Weekend? Not too bad. We had a good pace. Quali went okay. The only thing that wasn’t working out as planned was the race-…" I began, just to be interrupted by her.

"The race where you made a crucial mistake, crashing into Charles, ending his race."

"Yes, unfortunately, I steered into Charles and-…"

"Was it just you misjudging the situation or was it a simple lack of… awareness, maybe even something else?" the sweet smile on her lips, didn’t match the icy tone in her voice, or the hard glare of her eyes.

"It was a lack of talent probably." I pressed out and she grinned.

"After races like today, do you understand why there are still some people saying you don’t deserve your seat?" she asked next and I swallowed hard.

"People think what they want. I don’t care." I turned to Julie and she nodded.

"We’re done, thank you." she said and took my arm, leading me away "She’s a bitch."

"But she’s also right…" I sighed right as Charles stepped in front of me.

"What’s with your arm?" he asked gently and I looked down.

"I held onto the steering wheel when I crashed into the wall…" I mumbled, not meeting his eyes "I’m sorry…"

"Were you at the medical centre?"

"I’m going later. But did you hear me? I’m sorry for crashing into you." I repeated.

"I know." he replied and I looked up, right when Mia nudged his shoulder, nodding towards the Canal+ crew "I have to…"

"Yeah. Sure." I nodded and walked off, without another word.

Charles POV:

The after race debrief went by in a blur. I barely listened when Mattia said my name repeatedly and Xavi nudged my arm.

"Charles!" I looked at Mattia and he sighed "Nice that you decided to join the conversation."

"Sorry." I mumbled.

"Races like today can’t happen again. We need every point we can get…"

"It’s not like I asked Lizzie to crash into me?" I said and he nodded.

"I know, but she shouldn’t be able to catch up to you like that? We have way more race pace than the Audis this season…" Mattia sighed and I looked at him.

Was he for real? Lizzie overtook Carlos right before she attempted to overtake me. Yet I didn’t hear him say a word to Carlos being overtaken by her? I looked at Carlos and his father next to him. Like always when we had meetings he was with us. Why? I didn’t understand. But right now I also didn’t care.

"We all need to work on our performance. Our pit stops need to be faster. Our race pace must improve. We have to deliver now. The second half of the season must be ours!" Mattia said and all around the table everyone was mumbling in agreement "Meetings dismissed. Carlos. Charles. I need you two in Maranello. We have new upgrades we want to test before they get finalised." Mattia looked at us and I nodded, then I got up and left. Not speaking to anyone. I hated this season. Nothing was working the way I wanted it to. I was pushing the car every other weekend over its limits and ruined my races. Austria was just luck. Luck, I didn’t know how I managed to get. I also didn’t feel the same kind of support within the team anymore. The fact that I had to sit through strategy meetings alone, while Carlos had his father and cousin by his side, always giving their input, didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t change it. Mattia had nothing against it. He was the team principal. It was just another weekend to forget, that ended in a race debrief that left me more than insecure.

When I walked into our hotel room it was silent. A tiny ball underneath the sheets was the only indicator that Lizzie was here. I checked the time and thought that Lizzie maybe went to bed already. Rolled up into a ball, never a good sign. She slept like that when she was feeling unwell, anxious. I grabbed my sweatpants and a shirt then went into the bathroom to get bed ready. I climbed into bed next to her, pulling the blanket up.

"I’m so sorry that I crashed into you…" she said after a while and I turned my head slightly to look at her.

"It’s okay. You made a mistake, we all did at some point." I said quietly "How’s your wrist?"

"It’s okay. A little bruised, but that’s it…"

"Were you at the medical centre?"

"Yeah."

"That’s good."

We laid there in silence when Lizzie turned around, pulling her blanket down a little, her big blue-grey orbs looking at me.

"Are you mad at me?" she whispered and I shook my head.

"I’m not mad, Lizzie. It’s just… I’m scared… the last time you were in a room with him, he almost killed you… just a minute later and… I can’t lose you." I whispered back, tucking some loose strands of hair out of her face.

"You won’t lose me! And I actually meant the race…" she grabbed my hand, kissing my knuckles.

"No. I’m not, I’m not happy, sure, it was stupid going for that gap, it was too narrow, no space, you know that. But I also know that I would’ve done the same probably… so yeah, I’m not mad." I chuckled a little.

"After races like today, I kinda understand why everyone thinks that I don’t deserve my seat…" she mumbled and I gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up, making her look at me.

"Don’t go there, Lizzie. We all had moments like this! Just look at Miami this year! Or France last year! Max and Lewis 2 years ago? We all make mistakes! That doesn’t mean that we don’t deserve our seats!" I said determined and she sighed.

"Maybe you’re right…"

"Not maybe, definitely!" I pulled her into me and she snuggled into my side "I missed you this weekend… I hated that we weren’t talking or rather barely talking…"

"I’m sorry… I just thought that- that you didn’t want to talk to me after I said that I’m considering talking to him…" she whispered and I sighed.

"I didn’t like the thought, but yeah it was a little childish to ignore you…"

"I started it…"

"We need to work on that." I said and she looked at me "Communication. Sometimes we lack of it…"

"I think it’s more me than you."

"No. It’s us equally. When you start to ignore me I have to make you talk to me and vice versa. This is how it should be. More talking."

"Yeah. More talking…" she whispered and started to play with my bracelets as a comfortable silence fell upon us.

"I really can’t lose you…" I mumbled after a while and Lizzie looked up at me.

"You won’t lose me!" she replied but I shook my head.

"I’m just thinking… the amount of times I thought I lost you in the past? What if the next time, luck isn’t on our side?"

"It wasn’t luck! It was always you who saved me!" she scooted closer, cupping my cheeks, making me look at her "It was always you!"

"Yeah but what if I’m not there the next time? What if I’m not fast enough?" my voice barely above a whisper.

"I know that you’ll always be on time!" she kissed the tip of my nose.

"Can I come with you?" I asked and her eyes widened "When you decide that you want to see him? Can I come with you then?"

"I haven’t even decided yet…"

"But when you want to go and see him?" I almost pleaded.

"I wouldn’t want to go without you…" she admitted and I smiled, kissing her gently.

"I honestly don’t want to go to Maranello…" I said while packing my bag.

"It’s just for three days! Come on… suck it up!" Lizzie chuckled and I sighed dramatically.

"I don’t think that any upgrades can fix this car. It’s fucked. I know it. They know it. Everyone knows it. Look at our last results?"

"You mean your win in Austria?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"No I mean Canada! Barcelona! Monaco! Baku!-" I began.

"Baku where you were also on the podium? Sprint race and normal race?"

"12 races and 2 podiums… wow…" I stuffed a few socks into the bag.

"Technically 9 races… so yeah, one sprint race podium, one podium and one win in a car that is completely designed for your teammate… who’s also not really performing any better!" she sat up from the bed, looking at me.

"According to the media, he does…" I mumbled.

"Yeah according to the media I don’t deserve my seat… are we believing them? No! Especially not since 90 % of this bullshit is coming from Spain. Of course they have to bash you in order to highlight Carlos… but we know the truth!" she said and I sighed.

"I don’t know. I want to ignore it all, but it’s so damn hard… especially since I kinda have the feeling that some people within Ferrari think so too, you know?" I sat down next to her and she looked at me "I don’t feel like they all believe in me anymore… it changed. It’s like more and more of them are leaning towards Carlos… wanting Mattia to make a decision that Carlos is our number 1 driver." I looked at my hands.

"I feel like the Sainz family has a little too much influence on the team… or rather at the team principal… especially since Santander became the main sponsor…" Lizzie said, grabbing my hand "But you know what they can’t to? No matter how much influence they have? They can’t make Carlos a better driver. You are the better driver. And with a little more luck, a better car and a more reliable team, I’m sure as hell that you can show them all who you are, il predestinato."

"How are you doing that?" I said and pulled her into a tight hug "How do you always find the right words to say?"

"I learned from the best…" she chuckled a little, kissing my cheek "And now go. Drive to Maranello with your head held high and show them who you are. Tell them that the car like this is not drivable and if they want you to compete at the top they need to make some changes!"

"Let’s hope they listen to me…" I said and threw a last shirt into my bag, zipping it close "I’ll call you as soon as I’ve arrived!"

"I’m waiting for your call."

I leaned down and kissed her, her cheeks turning a little red when I pulled away, looking at her.

"Thank you Lizzie…"

I got out of the simulator, Fred waiting for me.

"And? What do you say?" he asked and I smiled a little.

"I mean, if you manage to get the upgrades done like that? The second half of the season might be working out better for us!" I answered slightly optimistic.

"We’re trying our best. But I guess we won’t be able to have the upgrades earlier than Suzuka."

"Better than nothing." I shrugged my shoulders and we walked outside together.

"How are you boy? The last weeks were tough…" Fred asked and I sighed a little, following him into his office when he waved me through the door.

"I’m okay, I think. Yeah sure. It was all a little much from time to time. But I’m focused on the last two races before the break."

"How’s Lizzie? It’s horrible what she has been through. It was sad enough to see her being treated the way she was last season…" Fred poured himself a coffee, offering me one as well but I shook my head.

"The way the media, the fans, even some of the other drivers were making jokes about her wasn’t okay. They went too far. Way too far. You know Lizzie, she doesn’t show you when she’s hurt, but I saw it. I saw how hurt she was and how much what was being written and said affected her…" I said and he nodded. She did an amazing job. P4 in the championship as a rookie? That’s a pretty good result. She showed all her doubters how great she is." Fred said, looking proudly at a picture on his desk. I followed his look and had to smile. A picture of Fred, Lizzie, René and me. The day Fred asked me if I wanted to join the Sauber F1 team for the 2018 season.

"She really did, but there are still enough out there who doubt her… not just her." I added quietly and he looked up from the picture.

"I’ve seen what they write about you Charles. Don’t listen to them. We know what we have in you. Don’t worry about that…" Fred said reassuringly and I nodded slowly "It’s a tough season for us. But we have a win. You brought it to us. Don’t forgot that!"

"I know. It’s just… it’s been tough lately. A lot of noise. Off track as well as on track. I know I’m not performing as well as last season…" I said.

"The car this season isn’t as good as last years. Or at least like last year in the first half of the season… we already are in the middle of the concept of next years car, finalising it." Fred said and I looked at him.

"We have some ideas how to make it faster, how to maximise the performance. I have a good feeling about it."

"Sounds good to me… although I want this season to be over first, before I think about the new season." I said and he nodded.

"We will get there, Charles. Don’t worry." Fred said and I got up "You focus on this year and I focus on next year."

"I will." I smiled and left his office, with a better feeling than before I’ve entered it.

I parked the car and got into the elevator.

"Lizzie?" I called out as soon as I walked inside the flat "Cara mia? Are you here?"

No answer. I dropped my keys off on the drawer and put my bag down on the bed room, pulling out my phone.

"Hey Charlie. Are you back?" Lizzie answered immediately.

"Just got in." I grabbed something to drink and walked into the living room.

"I’m at your mum’s. She’s cutting my hair a little." Lizzie said and I chuckled.

"Ouuuhhh I can’t wait for your new look." I smiled and sat down on the sofa.

"Not a new look, silly. She’s just cutting off my tips. They look a little unhealthy." she said and I heard Maman saying that Lizzie should sit still "Sorry Pascale."

"Then I don’t want to be the cause of you twitching around… see you later." I said.

"Alright. See you. Love you."

"Love you too." I said and hung up.

I switched on the tv and leaned back, scrolling through my phone. Seeing some tribute posts for Jules and I swallowed hard. I almost forgot what day today was. The tributes were beautiful, as always, a lot of them with pictures of Jules and I. I kept scrolling, until I came across a post about me. My season so far. I clicked on the link in the bio, opening an article about me. An article that was published by Marca.

Charles Leclerc - Ferrari’s biggest hope only a shadow of his past self

I read it. With every word the sickening feeling inside me got worse and worse. The things I’ve read over the past weeks all summed up. All the things I’ve criticised myself and everything beyond all laid out in front of me. The last sentences were the final blow.

He was believed to continue his late godfather Jules Bianchi’s, whose death marks the 8th anniversary today, legacy, they called him Il Predestinato, the predestined, but as of lately he doesn’t live up to his name.

I put my phone down. Wiping stray tears off of my cheeks. They were right. They were all right. I just didn’t want to see it.

"Thanks Pascale, it looks amazing!" I kissed her cheek and she laughed.

"I cut off your tips! Nothing more!" she shook her head and I grabbed my phone "Give Charles a kiss from me, oui? Today is a tough day for him…"

"I will, don’t worry. I’ll grab us something to eat and we’ll have a quiet night before we leave tomorrow." we kissed cheeks and I left, pre ordering some food for pick up. Right as I got inside my car I got a text from Joris, with a link to a news article. I opened it and immediately revved the engine, driving straight home to Charles.

I unlocked the door and entered the dark flat. Not a single light was switched on, silence. Charles keys on the drawer, he was at home. I took my shoes off and walked through the hallway, as I came into the living room he sat at his piano, dark room, hands in his lap, head hung low, hair dishevelled, eyes on the keys.

"Charles?" I said quietly, he didn’t even flinch. He just sat up, wiped his face with his hands, turned around and put on a smile, more fake than anything I’ve ever seen before. His eyes betrayed him, they looked lost, almost dead "Hey, my pretty boy." I walked up to him and he got up.

"Hi, cara mia." he said it with a weak voice then he cleared his throat "Are you hungry? I think there’s some leftover pasta?" he wanted to walk away but I grabbed his hand.

"Charles, talk to me, please." I pleaded but he just shook his head.

"Lizzie, it’s nothing! I’m fine! It was just an article, I’m used to it!" he said and pulled his hand out of my grasp, I could see the tears gathering at his waterline, as he walked away.

"Charles, we promised we’d always be honest!" I whispered and he stopped abruptly "We said we never lie to each other." my voice falters and he turned around.

He looked at me for a second before his resolve started to crumble and I could see all the pain, exhaustion, anxiety, disappointment, hurt, pressure and fear of the last weeks in his face. I could see how everything seemed to came crushing down on him at this very moment and he began to tremble, I made a step towards him but he took one step back, I stopped dead in my tracks and he looked at me shocked.

"I’m sorry!" his voice was hoarse and raspy I only nodded and took another cautious step towards him but this time he didn’t move, so I stepped in front of him and he looked down to the ground. His breathing was shallow.

"I’ve read it… what they’re saying… what if they’re really thinking like that? What if everyone agrees? What if it’s the truth and we just don’t want to see it?" he whispered and I took his hand in mine "I’m not good enough, not anymore, I thought after last year we’re on a good way, but we’re not and I’m clearly part of the problem! I’m underperforming, I make mistake after mistake, fuck, Miami! Twice in the same fucking wall! Baku? Also in the wall! Then 2 DNFs! Carlos is outperforming me this season! What if they’re all right and I don’t have what it takes to become a World Champion. What if I never be able to make Jules and Papa proud like that?" tears running down his cheeks.

"Hey! Look at me, Charles! Enough, okay? That’s enough! I said it in Austria before! It’s enough! This whole stupid narrative that he is the better driver, that he’s the one who brings home the big points? He carries this season on his shoulders? Fuck this shit? The people saying that! Charles you had two DNFs, both not your fault! And he is only a handful of points ahead! So what?! That’s not a driver who carries a team! You won a race and had another podium! And another sprint race podium! You had a pole already! And that all with a car that is clearly designed for him? And a shit box in general! Oh please! And that he is so fucking obsessed with you lately and has to rant in every fucking interview? And then Ferrari wants to shut me up? They should keep their side of the street clean before they come for mine! You are the number one! Everyone can see it! They should start to value you, before someone else will! It’s bullshit that all the interests in you died down apparently! I know that Felix would love to have you in our team! And Christian is a weird ass at times but he would hire you in no time at all! Fuck I think even Mercedes would give you rather than Mick the seat if Lewis would retire! Every other team on the grid would take you in, no doubt!" I said, recounting everything that has been mentioned in the article, but he only shook his head.

"You’re my girlfriend! Of course you think like that…" he mumbled and I scoffed.

"Listen to me, Leclerc. I never lied to you about your abilities! I never lied to you when it came to your skills, your talent! And I’m not starting now with it! So when I say that you are World Champion material and he is not, I’m saying that because I raced you my entire life and I know it! You hear me? I know it!" I said it with a stern voice.

"I don’t know, Lizzie. Lately I’m just tired of it all, I don’t know if it’s all worth it anymore…" he looked at the ground again.

"What are you saying?" I looke at him confused.

"There is no other team for me… it was always like this. Ferrari or nothing… but I have failed the team, the Tifosi, you! And the team clearly doesn’t have faith in me anymore. There is so much going on in the team, Lizzie, things I can’t tell you. The politics have changed. Fred tries his best to keep me going, to reassure me, but he’s not my team principal, he’s not the one who makes the decisions. He’s involved in the car development for next year, he’s more doing internal stuff. But the rest of the team? I feel like a lot of them lost their faith in me! And I can’t even blame them! It’s just… fuck! There is no one fighting for me, there is just no one in my fucking corner. And I can’t do it alone. I can’t continue like this. Not when I don’t know who still has my back. Not when I don’t know who to trust anymore." his voice broke and he buried his face in his hands. My heart broke, I pulled him into my arms and hugged him tight. His body began to tremble and he started sobbing.

"I can’t do it anymore, Lizzie. I just… I can’t… it’s just too much. I-I’m a failure and I’m… I’m never… I can’t… It’s just so hard… I just…" his breathing was staggering and he began to shake violently "I can’t… Lizzie I can’t… breathe…" he was almost unable to say the words.

I guided him to the sofa and pushed him down, then kneeled in between his legs and cradled his face between my hands. His breathing was shallow, his hands were shaking, lips trembling, silent tears running down his cheeks, as he desperately gasped for air.

"Charles, listen to me, ok? Can you do that for me?" he tried to take a deep breath but his breathing stopped abruptly "Charles! You’re having a panic attack! Listen to me, focus on my voice! Please! You need to focus on my voice, can you do that for me?" he looked me in the eyes, nodding slightly "Ok, good! You need to breathe with me! Inhale and hold it in okay? Inhale, 1,2,3,4,5… exhale, 1,2,3,4,5. Inhale, 1,2,3,4,5… exhale, 1,2,3,4,5. Inhale, 1,2,3,4,5… exhale, 1,2,3,4,5. Good job, you’re doing amazing! And again…" His breathing was still ragged but at least a little steadier than before.

"It hurts… it hurts to breathe…" he whispered and closed his eyes.

"I know, Charlie, I know… but we have to keep going, okay? Just for a bit until your breathing steadies okay?" I whispered and he nodded leaning his head down, resting his forehead against mine "Breathe with me…"

I pulled the blanket over his shoulders, shut off the bedside lamp, kissed his cheek and quietly left the room. Shutting the door. I sat down on the sofa pulling out my phone.

"Lizzie, is everything okay?" Dad asked as he picked up "Did something happen?"

"What? Why?" I was confused.

"It’s almost 11, you never call that late?" he answered and I shook my head, of course.

"Shit, I’m sorry Pops, I forgot about the time when…" I began but stopped, how do I explain what was going on for the past 2.5 hours?

"Is Charles okay? After that article? And then published today out of all days? He doesn’t believe a word of it, does he?" Dad asked and I half sighed, half sobbed "Hey! What’s going on, Lizzie?"

"Dad, we have to do something! They’re destroying him… he can’t be there anymore, not alone!"

"At Ferrari? What’s going on?" he asked and I didn’t even know where to start.

"I don’t know what’s going on at Ferrari… but he said that he feels like his team lost their faith in him? Like he has no one in his corner standing up for him? Fighting for him?" my voice was trembling "I could see over the past few weeks that something was going on. He dreaded going to Maranello, when did that ever happen? He didn’t highlight at every given opportunity how much he loves his team, believes in his team. And then I heard some mechanics talking about how they find it weird that Carlos, his father and cousin are at the strategy meetings sometimes? Race debriefs? That they sometimes have the feeling that they talk Mattia and Co. into giving him the better strategy. Fighting for him, while Charles is all alone! Nicholas can’t be there all the time, he has other clients. And he’s also just his manager! But Charles needs someone who fights for him! He needs a father figure standing up for him! Someone who has his back, the way Carlos dad has his!" I cried at this point while Dad was awfully quiet "Dad, I’m scared for him! First Miami? Then Baku? God Austria! The last weeks the light disappeared again out of his eyes! And then all of this shit with Diaz and me? That’s just making it all worse! I don’t know what to do anymore! I always try to talk him out of this thoughts, always try to make him see how good he really is. But today? I couldn’t get through to him. He believes every single word written in this damn article! And I just know that Diaz has something to do with it! I don’t know what to do… the last time when he was like this was after Hervé’s death, but he had racing as distraction and he loved it! But now… he spoke about quitting, he didn’t said it like that, but that was what he meant!"

"Lizzie, calm down, okay? Is he okay? Where is Charles now?" Dad asked calmly.

"He’s sleeping now. He had a panic attack, he couldn’t breathe anymore! Dad he broke down in my arms… I can’t see him like this anymore!" I almost whispered it.

"You won’t. It’s enough now. Don’t worry, Lizzie. I’ll take care of it." Dad reassured me.

"But how?" I asked exhausted.

"I’ll go and have a talk with Nicholas, we will find a solution how we put someone in his corner, someone who’s fighting for him!" he said it with determination and I nodded to myself, feeling the exhaustion taking over "I promised his dad something, and I will hold onto that promise! And now, my Lizzie. Go to sleep. You sound exhausted and tired. It’s all going to be okay, I promise you." Dad said quietly.

"Thanks Dad! Good night, love you!" I said.

"Good night, my little owl. I love you too, both of you!"

Chapter 35 - a "shorter" one (the first under 10k words after a long while)… poor Charles. Just when we thought our lovebirds might get their well deserved break 👀😬

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copper-16 · 2 months ago

Note

been thinking about your platonic andrea + lola fic especially since andrea missed the last penalty that took atletico out of the CL. would you ever write a fic about that?

idk andrea feeling really guilty and pulling away from the team and lola reminding her that she’s more than just her bad moments on the pitch?

The way this ask made me GASP...I posted this fic OVER a year ago and someone still remembers it? I cannot explain my excitement, especially because it's such a little niche/rarepair fic. It makes my YEAR when people still remember those silly little fics I made. If rarepair or platonic stuff was more popular I would probably have a million fics to write, honestly.

I wasn't ever planning to write about them again - but I pumped something out solely because I was so excited by you mentioning it 😭 It's not a full fic necessarily which is why I'm just posting it on here.

I Try, I Try

Andrea misses the penalty, crushing Atlético Madrid's dream of playing in the Champions League. Crushing Lola's dream of playing in the Champions League. The defender struggles to cope before she receives an important reminder.

If there was one thing that would have motivated Lola to save every single one of those penalties, it would be the sight of Andrea on the pitch after missing her own. It was burned into her brain it felt like, the image of the younger girl right next to the celebrating Rosenborg team, her head in her hands.

Lola was absolutely disappointed after the loss. But she had been lucky to have a long career, to have won a Champions League trophy, to have experienced so many losses and victories. But the defender was still young, and it was a different kind of pressure and expectation to be the one to take the final penalty in a shootout. Especially one where the result determined if they had a shot at playing on the international stage.

And Andrea hadn’t even flinched when she had been selected, insisting that she was ready. She was putting on a brave face, Lola could tell.

But it was that kind of strength and the right attitude that made good players great ones. The keeper was proud of her for being a team player and fighting till the end, even if it wasn’t their day. Even if she wanted to cry, the blonde made her way around to her other teammates, patting them on the back and holding back her clear upset.

Lola simply wished it didn’t have to end this way. The younger girl had been nearly catatonic in the changing room, on the bus ride, on the plane.

It had been Carmen who had taken Andrea home, given that the two of them lived in the same apartment building. Lola had pulled the older defender aside, asking her quietly to keep an eye on their younger teammate.

When the keeper asked Andrea if she wanted to come over to her and Christina’s apartment, she only received a muted head shake in response. The younger girl could barely even look her in the eyes as she brushed the keeper off, though not unkindly.

It had taken less than two hours for Carmen to call Lola to come over, her voice filled with worry.

The older woman rode a strange line sometimes, wanting to respect Andrea’s boundaries while also understanding that sometimes people didn’t always exactly say what they wanted. She did feel a certain responsibility to protect the defender from the harsh realities of the world, but she couldn’t solve everything.

Personally, she hated the fact, even if she knew that she held no control over it.

She makes it to Andrea and Carmen’s apartment building in record time, meeting her former partner by the door to the younger girlfriend’s apartment.

“I could hear her crying in her room when I was making her some food and I…I don’t know. She hates being alone, it feels more like she’s trying to punish herself than process,” Carmen said with exasperation, but underneath her tone is thinly veiled worry.

“You probably aren’t far off,” Lola acquiesced, turning her head briefly to look at the door. “I’ve got her, you can go back up to your place. Don’t forget to ice your knee,” the keeper said with as much captainly authority as she could muster. Carmen rolled her eyes good-naturedly, saluting her teammate somewhat mockingly before she turned to head back up to her own place.

Lola lets herself into Andrea’s apartment, and despite the fact that the defender’s door is closed, she can hear the muted sounds of crying that ring through the space. She doesn’t even hesitate, striding over to the younger girl’s room before she opens the door gently, poking her head in.

The soft crying noises shut off abruptly, the entire room entering into a precarious stillness. Lola felt her heart sink at the evidence of the girl’s sadness, even if she knew it was there.

The older woman doesn’t even bother with asking for an invitation, she simply moves into the room, climbing into Andrea’s bed with her.

This bed held a million memories, at least for the keeper. Late-night conversations and confessions, the loudest of laughs, a safe space for tears. The mattress greets her warmly, sinking under her as she moves her body closer to Andrea’s, placing her hand gently on the defender’s back.

“Lola, go away,” Andrea insists, attempting to sound more firm than she felt. Her words come out sounding more like they are from a tearful child, not that Lola cares.

“It is okay to be upset Andrea, it is okay to cry,” Lola tries, but the blonde still shifts away from her, and the sound of a stuttering breath punctuates the silence around them.

There is a pause before the younger girl speaks again, her words dripping with rage.

Not for the team, but rather for herself.

“It is my fault that we lost. I shouldn’t be crying over something that I had control over.”

Lola sits up slightly after hearing her words, placing her head in her hand, her elbow pressing into the mattress. When she speaks, her voice is firm, with little room for argument.

“No, it is not.”

The sheer force of her words is enough to make Andrea pause and relent in turning over slightly to peer at the dark-haired woman.

She expects Lola to be looking at her with anger, with frustration.

First, she lost them an important game, all because she couldn’t shoot a ball into the net properly. Like it wasn’t her only job to do exactly that.

And now, she was acting like a child, hiding in her bed when all she wanted was a hug and a reminder that she wasn’t the worst footballer in the world.

She was older now, and she needed to grow up and be realistic. There wasn’t time for all of her big, unnecessary emotions.

But Lola isn’t looking at her with anger or frustration. She looks more apprehensive and concerned than anything else, and Andrea turns over more fully to face her.

“I’m so sorry Lola,” she whispers, crushed by the thought that she was the one who ended not only her dreams, the dreams of the team, but Lola’s dream.

The keeper shakes her head instantly, her expression filling with sympathy.

“Andrea, it is not your fault. There were 120 minutes, and four other penalties besides your own. This doesn’t rest on all you, I promise,” Lola points out, but Andrea cuts her off with a humorless laugh.

“Yes, but if I had just made my penalty, my one job, we wouldn’t be here,” she counters, averting her eyes from the older woman.

“And if I had saved more of the penalties, or the goals, we wouldn’t be here either,” Lola comments, but it doesn’t seem to do anything other than upset the defender more.

“That is different, and you know it. Nobody expects a keeper to save a penalty, but it is the job of the players to score,” Andrea’s voice is forceful, as though she’s trying to convince herself of the words.

“By the time we made it to penalties, we had already failed our job. All of us, the whole team, not just you. Just because you are the one who went last, doesn’t mean that our failures for the whole game lay completely on your shoulders,” Lola argues, and when the blonde doesn’t say anything in response, she continues.

“This is not your fault. We all miss penalties or make mistakes on the job. I can’t even begin to count how many mistakes I have made in my career Andrea, truly. As much as I hate it, it’s a part of the game. And it doesn’t matter how many times it happens, or how old you are, you are allowed to be upset over it. It doesn’t make you immature or weak to cry or feel upset,” the keeper emphasizes, and when she sees the younger girl’s lip begin to wobble, she knows that she’s hit the root of the problem.

“I’m twenty years old, I shouldn’t be acting this way over a penalty,” she sputters, and Lola settles herself back on the mattress, pulling the younger girl into her.

“I don’t care how old or mature you are, you are allowed to be upset about things. I am twenty-nine years old and–” Lola starts, though the defender is quick to interject despite her sadness.

“Aren’t you thirty-on–” Andrea is cut off with a hand that quickly covers her mouth, smothering the rest of her sentence.

“Shush, I am in my twenties and I haven't finished speaking. As I was saying, I am older than you and I still cry about things all the time, when I feel the need to. It is natural and it is normal, just like it is to talk to other people around you. There is no rule book that says you must go through this alone because you feel that you are the one at fault for the situation. All you are doing is punishing yourself when I promise, you don’t have to,” Lola reassures, Andrea now tucked into her side, her head laying on Lola’s chest.

There is a pause as silent tears slip down the blonde’s cheeks, as the words of the older woman wash over her.

“I am so sorry Lola,” she emphasizes, and it’s the repetition of the word that causes the keeper to look down in confusion.

“Why are you saying sorry to me?” She asks, a little lost on why Andrea needed to apologize to her specifically.

“You are further along in your career, these chances aren’t always easy to come by, and I screwed it up. I blew your chance this year, and who knows if we’ll have this opportunity again,” Andrea’s voice is small, emotion caught in her throat.

“I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t…”

The blonde’s words trail off, but the unspoken part of her sentence is heard loud and clear.

Please don’t hate me.

“I could never, I promise you that. You are my teammate, but more importantly, you are my friend. I am proud of you each time you step out onto the pitch, and I consider myself so lucky to be your teammate. We win together, and we lose together. I love you far too much to ever let something like football come between us, even if it is an important match. It’s just a game, and you are…tan especial para mí,” Lola vows, feeling the younger girl curl further into her side, a sigh of relief leaving her exhausted body.

And it was true. The defender meant so much more to her than anything that football might bring or take away, and she would much rather prioritize that than over something she knew could slip out from under her at any moment.

“Te amo pequeña,” the older woman murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of Andrea’s head.

The younger girl snuggles into her further, tear tracks down her face finally beginning to dry as she settles into the taller woman.

“Thank you Mama Lola. Te amo,” she whispers as she drifts off, disappointment now accompanied by the knowledge that she would overcome this.

And by the fact that she didn’t have to do it alone.

#lola gallardo #andrea medina #atletico madrid #carmen menayo #woso

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daryltwdixon · 2 months ago

Text

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 26

summary: In a quiet moment at Daryl's mini campsite, you struggle to read as your thoughts are consumed by the chaos back at the barn, Randy’s plea, and Shane’s violent confrontation. When Dale arrives, trying to convince Daryl to care about the group's decision on Randy, Daryl resists, and pulls you into the woods for time alone In the flashback, Merle teaches you self-defense, playfully pinning you down until you manage to escape using the techniques he taught. The mood shifts when Will Dixon enters the room, making disturbing insinuations about you and Merle, threatening his own son in the process.

warnings: Will Dixon is an asshole in this (child abuse), inappropriate/crude sexual comments

X flash forward x

Neither you or Daryl had it in you to stay with the group back at the house so you both returned to his mini camp site out by the deserted stone wall. In an attempt at normalcy, you’re reading the old book Daryl got from Andrea as he loads his crossbow with the arrows he had made. You’re barely reading the words however, stuck in a mindless loop of starting sentences over when you realize paragraphs in you haven’t been picking up a single thing. Your thoughts are full of the scene at the barn–Randy practically begging you to save him, Shane storming in and caging you in with so much fury against the side of the barn, his dark features swimming in your mind's eye. Looking over at Daryl, you find him engrossed in cleaning his arrows, the steady rhythm of his work causing you to stare. You watch the way his hands move, the same hands that pulled you out of that mess. If he hadn’t come when he did… you swallow hard, your throat tight with anxiety. Realizing there was no use trying to distract yourself, you set the book down in the grass.

As you look back at the camp then, thoughts just as far as the house, you spot Dale approaching, his silhouette familiar in the distance. The bucket hat, the rifle slung over his shoulder, the walking stick tapping against the ground.

“Dare,” you call softly, and when he looks over to you, following your gaze, he lets out a soft scoff at the sight of the old man.

You try for a small smile at Dale in greeting, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His presence carries the weight of the group with him, and you can sense Daryl’s desire to avoid it.

“The whole point of us coming up here is to get away from you people,” Daryl says, continuing his work on the crossbow.

Dale, however, isn’t deterred. “Gonna take more than that,” he quips lightly, his eyes steady on Daryl.

“Carol send you?” Daryl asks, his tone dull, as if he already knows the answer.

Dale shifts slightly, his gaze dropping for a moment. “Carol’s not the only one that’s concerned about the two of you. Your... new role in the group,” he ventures, the words hesitant.

“Oh, man,” Daryl grumbles under his breath, a touch of exasperation bleeding through. “I don’t need my head shrunk. This group’s broken—better off fending for ourselves out here.” His gaze flickers to you, almost unconsciously, always checking in.

Dale, perceptive as ever, takes in the unspoken exchange between the two of you. “You act like you don’t care,” he says quietly, but his words are pointed.

“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t,” Daryl shoots back quickly. But you know him well enough to recognize the lie. His leather jacket swings over his shoulders, the worn angel wings facing you like a shield.

“So live or die, you don’t care what happens to Randall?” Dale asks louder now. The mention of Randy causes a deeper reaction in you. The thought of the kid, beaten and trapped in that barn, makes you flinch. You shift uncomfortably, unable to shake the memory of him begging for help. Your gaze drifts to the barn far off, your stomach churning.

Daryl continues gathering his things, his movements more rigid now. “Nope,” he answers flatly when Dale asks if Randall’s fate really doesn’t matter to him.

But Dale isn’t ready to give up. His voice rises, more desperate. “Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid’s life? If it really doesn’t matter one way or the other?”

“Didn’t peg you for a desperate som’ bitch,” Daryl mutters, though the sharpness in his tone doesn’t quite hide the cracks in his defense.

Dale’s gaze flicks to you, a silent plea in his eyes, before turning back to Daryl. “Your opinion makes a difference,” he presses, his voice soft but insistent.

Daryl slings the crossbow over his shoulder and growls, “Man, nobody lookin’ at me for nothin’.” His voice is rougher now, frustration evident, but you don’t move. He turns like he’s about to leave, and you let him. You know he needs his space— especially after such an emotional morning.

“Carol is!” Dale calls to him then, “And I am, right now,”

Daryl turns to pause, but it’s not to listen to him. To your surprise, he’s looking to you, holding his hand outstretched, beckoning you forward.

Dale isn’t done with his case, and when he knows Daryl is starting to leave he continues, “And–and you obviously have Rick’s ear,” he says.

Daryl’s calloused hand slides into yours with welcoming warmth when you reach out to take it, but then you see his face contort into a snarl at Dale, “Rick just looks to Shane. Let ‘em,”

He turns to pull you away, ready to take his mind off things in the woods. To let his thoughts turn to tracking where things felt certain, safer.

“You cared about what happened to Sophia,” Dale says at a last attempt to convince Daryl, and you suck in a gasp, pausing your movements, waiting to see Daryl’s reaction. You move to drop his hand, but he holds onto yours tighter as he inwardly flinches at the name. He won’t show how much it hurts. Not to Dale. He turns then, facing the man.

“--Cared about what it meant to the group,” Dale’s voice shakes, knowing he struck a nerve in Daryl. With your hand in his, he pulls you both forward as he stalks over to Dale as the old man continues, “torturing people? That isn’t you! You’re a decent man–so is Rick,” he pauses, his face changing, “Shane–he’s different,”

“Why’s that?” Daryl says, but it’s not a question, “Cause he killed Otis?” The shock that ripples through you at his words freezes you in place, your mind racing to catch up. You hadn’t known. The story of Otis had never fully reached you. Daryl feels you tense beside him and squeezes your hand once in silent reassurance.

Dale’s eyes widen, stepping closer to Daryl, “He tell you that?”

“He told some story–” Daryl begins, glancing over to you, “how Otis covered him, saved his ass,” he shook his head while Dale nods, his eyes narrowing as he got closer, “he showed up with a dead guy’s gun.”

Oh god, you hadn’t known–hadn’t realized. He killed Otis to make a run for it. To use him as bait when they came up against walkers. You realize then the lengths Shane would go for his people–what he would do in a moment of desperation. What he’s truly capable of.

“Rick ain’t stupid,” Daryl splits after a moment, his gaze remaining hard, “if he didn’t figure that out it’s cause he didn’t wanna,” he growls, “‘s like I said–groups broken,” His voice holds an edge, but when he looks back at you, his expression softens just enough. His free hand comes up to your face, his thumb brushing your cheekbone gently, an unspoken apology, a promise to talk later.

You turn to Dale, your heart heavy with the tension pulling all of you in different directions. His eyes, full of quiet resignation, meet yours, and you feel a pang of sympathy. You felt for him, really. Wanting to save Randy’s life was the decent thing to do, to give him a fair trial. But there was too much at stake, and too much of a threat to every one of their lives.

“Y/N?” Dale calls softly as you move to leave. You turn, offering him a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Dale,” you whisper, shaking your head. Then, with Daryl leading the way, you turn and disappear into the woods.

—

You move through the woods with ease, the late afternoon light filtering through the trees and leaving a glow on the turning leaves. The quiet sound of birds chirping keeps your heart beating at a steady rhythm—animals making noise was always a good sign. A sign of little to no danger afoot. The light crunch of leaves under your feet and the breeze rustling them is soothing, but your mind is anything but calm. Your thoughts are heavy with Randy’s fate, Rick’s decisions, Shane’s increasingly erratic behavior, and the truth about what really happened when he went for medical supplies.

Daryl walks ahead of you, your eyes often drifting to the faded white angel wings on his vest. You’ve always loved that vest. The world saw Daryl as reckless, a trailer park redneck with a nasty attitude, but you knew better. Those wings weren’t just decoration—they were a symbol of what he really was to you. An angel in disguise.

After a while, Daryl stops, his eyes scanning the clearing ahead. It’s then you notice how quiet the woods have gotten, and your breath catches. A walker stumbles about 30 feet ahead, lazily dragging its feet. Its tattered clothes hang loosely, and muddied pants drag along the forest floor. You;re surprised when Daryl turns to you with a smile on his face.

“Remember how to use this ol’ thing?” he grunts, holding out his crossbow.

You smirk, your heart slowing its panic at his casual confidence. “Like I’d forget,” you whisper. “Remember when this thing felt like it weighed a hundred pounds?” You chuckle quietly.

Daryl huffs a laugh, his eyes softening. “Yeah, you were always actin’ like it’d knock you over. But you learned.”

Taking the crossbow, you step in front of him. The weight feels familiar now, lighter than it did when you were younger. Daryl stands close behind, his breath warm on the back of your neck as he watches silently, knowing the focus it takes to shoot straight.

You aim, steadying your breath as you line up the shot. Just as you’re about to fire, Daryl whistles softly, grabbing the walker’s attention. It turns, its mouth just starting to open in a snarl when you pull the trigger. The bolt strikes it clean between the eyes.

“Thatta girl,” Daryl breathes, his voice close to your ear. “ ‘Mount of times I wanted to kiss ya when you’d hit a squirrel straight in the chest back when we’d be out huntin’.” He chuckles, and you turn to him, cheeks heating.

“Seriously? That’s all it takes?” you tease, a smile tugging at your lips. He blushes, realizing what he just let slip.

You hand him the crossbow and head over to retrieve the arrow from the walker’s head. As you return, your mood shifts, the thought of everything back at camp weighing on you again. You hand the arrow back, your brows furrowed with a sigh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Otis?” you ask softly. Daryl takes the crossbow from you, holding it by his side as he looks at you, studying your face for a long moment.

“Figured you’d had enough goin’ on,” he grunts, but it's soft. Gentle. You nod, understanding. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you’d known right away, the guilt gnaws at you for one of Hershel’s family members dying because of you. You knew Shane was escalating, his out of control behavior was getting worse and worse, but you didn’t think he’d kill someone in cold blood like that. You let out another sigh, Daryl watching your expression the whole time. Finally, you ask something else.

“What do you think about Randy? It can’t be fair to kill him just because we don’t know what else to do.” you say, and Daryl lets out a sigh of his own.

He’s pulling back the crossbow's string to knock the arrow in place as he says, “Ain’t about fair. Life wasn’t fair before all this, sure ain’t now,” he grumbles, throwing the crossbow strap over his shoulder.

“I know,” you murmur. “But it doesn’t mean we have to keep making decisions like this—killing people just because it’s easier.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his eyes scanning the woods ahead. When he speaks, his voice is low, resigned. “Ain’t about easier. It’s about survivin’. And if Rick thinks this is what’s best…” He trails off with a shrug.

The silence stretches as you walk side by side, both of your thoughts filling your minds, filling the air with heavy but comfortable silence. It’s never been awkward for you two to walk in silence in the woods, it was the way it always had been. Daryl was never the chattiest person you’d known, and you loved it about him.. Out of nowhere, Daryl breaks the long stretch of quiet.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go back.”

You stop, turning to him. “What do you mean?”

Daryl’s jaw tightens, eyes fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t like what’s happenin’ back there. With Rick, with Shane… you bein’ involved in all of it. Maybe it’s time to get out. Me and you. Find Merle. We’ve always been better off on our own—better than stickin’ around a group that’s fallin’ apart.”

“Daryl…” You start, but the words get caught in your throat. A part of you wants to agree, to run and leave all the chaos behind. But something keeps you rooted. You think of Rick, the others, everything you’ve all been through. And Shane... you know leaving now could be a mistake. Especially with him becoming more dangerous by the day.

“I don’t know if we can just... leave,” you say, your voice softer now.

Daryl looks at you, searching your face. “Ain’t nothin’ keepin’ us there. We ain’t tied to ‘em. You know Rick’s listenin’ to Shane more than he should. We’d be better off on our own.”

You shake your head, torn. “I can’t just walk away, Daryl. Not with how things are. Shane… Shane’s dangerous. If we leave, what if something happens to the others? What if Rick can’t stop him? What if—” You stop, catching yourself.

Daryl watches you, his expression hardening again. “Ain’t our problem. We don’t gotta save ‘em.”

You feel a pang of guilt but also a sense of truth in his words. Still, you can’t let go. “Maybe… but what if something happens and we could’ve stopped it?”

The sun is dipping lower now, casting a golden light over the trees, but the tension between you feels anything but warm. Daryl exhales sharply, looking away.

“I ain’t gonna stick around to watch it fall apart,” he mutters.

“We don’t have to, but we need to stay for now. At least until this thing with Randy and Shane is handled,” you say, your voice shaking slightly as you think of all the worst-case scenarios.

“Things are only gonna get worse from here, and you know it,” Daryl grunts.

You nod, glancing back the way you came. “Let’s just go back. We can decide tomorrow.”

Without warning, Daryl hooks his arm around your neck, pulling you into by nook of his elbow to kiss the top of your head. “You’re annoyin’. Can’t ever leave things be, huh?”

You both laugh softly, though there’s a touch of sadness in it, and together, you begin the walk back, his arm thrown over your shoulders.

x flashback x

"Merle, this is stupid!" you huffed, frustration twisting your face as you shoved against him. He had you pinned on the living room floor, a giant smile splitting his face as he held you down. It was just the two of you at the house, waiting for Daryl to return from who knew where.

"Ain't always gonna be so easy, baby girl," he taunted, "Come on, do what I taught ya—throw me off."

He leered down at you as you huffed and paused. His hands were at your wrists above your head, and you were glaring up at him. "Okay, then. You asked for it," you said with a curl of your lip, bringing your knee up between his legs. Unfortunately, he knew what was coming and pressed his hip down, stopping your leg before it could reach his groin.

"Too obvious, sweetheart," he said, shaking his head with a grin. You let out a yell of frustration, squirming under him. "Come on now," he said again, "What you gon’ do if someone’s got ya like this, huh? I got your hands where I want ‘em, and I’m a hell of a lot bigger than you. What you gonna do?"

You let out a deep sigh, closing your eyes. The stench of cheap cigarettes clung to him, mixed with days-old clothes and body odor. The rough floor beneath you chafed your neck, itching your skin as you gathered yourself. You gritted your teeth, thinking through his movements. Merle had your best interest at heart, like any big brother would, but he sure had a way of showing it. Today, he decided to teach you how to get out of a fight or an attack. His mind was always on worst-case scenarios, and he took it upon himself to teach you self-defense.

Your eyes snapped open, and you thrust your hips upward, taking him by surprise. He lost his grip on one of your wrists, and you pushed your head into his stomach as his body lurched forward. Your arm circled his waist, and you pushed with all your strength. Merle flew onto his back, and you landed on top of him. Your second hand came free as his back hit the ground, knocking the breath from his lungs. His legs remained on either side of you, and you wiggled your way out, slapping his face and chest in victory. Laughter spilled from him as you slapped at him, breath ragged from the effort.

"Okay, okay!" he shouted, and you paused, gulping down air. He looked up at you with a twinkle in his eye. "Not bad, little monster."

You took his lanky, bony hands and pinned them to the floor beside his head. "Show me again," you said with determination, "what happens when they’re too big for me to throw off?"

He smiled at you, pursed his lips for a kiss, and you pulled back quickly, letting go of his hands. "Ew, Merle! Come on!"

"Usually a little kiss works for me, but maybe when they’re comin’ for you, they’ll enjoy that too much," he snarked, laughing at the look of disgust on your face. His hands rested on your thighs.

"What the hell’s goin’ on in here?" came a low voice from the doorway. Will Dixon stood there, his frame filling the space, casting a long shadow over the room. His bloodshot eyes carried a permanent scowl as they took in the scene before him. A cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. The heavy weight of his gaze settled on you, still straddling Merle, your hands pressed to his chest.

For a long, sickening moment, he just watched.

Merle stiffened beneath you, the easy laughter in his eyes gone, replaced with something harder. His hands tensed on you as he met his father’s glare, no longer playful but coiled and ready to spring.

"Look at this," Will said, his lips twisting into a smirk. He didn’t move from the doorway, but the sheer force of his presence pressed down on you, making your skin crawl. "Ain’t this a pretty picture? Girl like you on top of him like that... Must be his lucky day."

Your stomach flipped, nausea rising in your throat as the insinuation hit. Instinctively, you wanted to scramble off Merle, but your body wouldn’t cooperate—frozen in place by the disgust prickling across your skin.

Merle’s grip tightened on your sides for a second, a silent signal: don’t react. Don’t move. He knew the game too well.

"Ain’t like that," Merle muttered, his voice hard, but there was a nervous edge to it, something like a plea hidden beneath the bravado. "I was teachin’ her somethin’."

Will’s gaze dragged lazily from you to Merle, the smirk never fading. "Oh, I bet you were," he said, voice thick with implication. He pushed off the doorframe, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements. The smell of stale smoke and cheap whiskey filled the space between you, suffocating the air. "Ain’t that what brothers are for? Teachin’ each other how to handle a woman?"

You flinched at his words, bile rising in your throat. You wanted to speak, to tell him he was disgusting, but your voice stuck in your throat like glue. Merle finally moved, easing you off him, trying to shield you from Will’s twisted attention.

"Get off me," Merle said softly enough that only you could hear. He gently nudged you to the side, sitting up in one smooth motion. But it was too late—Will was already in front of you both, looming like a storm cloud ready to break. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay still, not reacting. Both Daryl and Merle had taught you that much. Never show weakness in front of their father. Ever.

Will’s smirk twisted into something darker. "Ain’t no need to get shy now, Merle," he said, dragging the cigarette from his lips. "She’s growin’ up. Bet she’ll make some man real happy someday." His eyes slid back to you, crawling over your skin, making you feel suffocated under his gaze.

Will didn’t wait for a response. His hand snapped out faster than you could react, grabbing Merle by the back of his neck and yanking him forward. You gasped, frozen, watching as he got in Merle’s face.

"You teachin’ her?" Will growled, his fingers digging into the back of Merle’s neck. "You think this is somethin’ she needs to learn, huh? Or maybe you’re just wastin’ time, like always?" he snarled, shoving Merle hard enough that his feet scraped the floor. Merle stumbled but didn’t fall, keeping his face neutral, trained not to react.

Merle didn’t answer, staring straight ahead, his lips pressed together, fists clenched at his sides. Your hands fell to your lap as anger filled your body, the urge to speak up clawing at your throat. But you bit it back. Merle’s eyes darted to you, a quick glance that said more than words: Don’t. Stay out of it.

You wanted to move, to run, but your legs felt like lead. Your chest heaved with shallow breaths as Will slowly turned back to you. "Best stay outta the way, girl," he said, his voice dripping with venom. "If you don’t wanna end up like him."

He took one last drag from his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the floor before crushing it under his boot. "Now go do somethin’ useful before I give you somethin’ real to cry about."

The threat hung in the air, cold and heavy, as Will turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. His footsteps echoed down the hall, and moments later, a door slammed shut.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Merle didn’t move right away, still slumped against the wall, staring at the ground, his face tight with controlled anger.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low, gravelly. "Don’t listen to him," he muttered, though you could hear the exhaustion in his words. "He don’t know shit."

You nodded, throat tight, your body trembling with the aftershocks of the encounter. Merle pushed off the wall, rubbing the back of his neck one last time before glancing at you, the usual glint in his eyes dulled.

"C’mon," he said softly, jerking his chin toward the back door. "Let’s get outta here before he comes back."

Wordlessly, you followed him, the cold air hitting your face as soon as you stepped outside. But even the fresh air couldn’t clear away the suffocating feeling left behind by Will’s presence, his words echoing in your mind long after he’d gone. As Merle closed the door behind him, you saw Daryl coming up the path to the house. Without a second thought to how he might react, you ran towards him, your hair sticking to your face with sweat, the rest of it flying behind you. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking between you and Merle with a furrowed brow as you threw your arms around his neck. He caught you easily, his arms finding your back in a strong, protective grip. You heard his voice in your ear, asking Merle what had happened.

"Daddy’s home," Merle muttered, walking straight past the two of you, new cigarette in his mouth as he took off down the sidewalk without looking back.

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