#That GOD IS 1 foam hand is everything to me

[avamazingg]

I haven't drawn moral orel in awhile but I found this in my drafts

[13uswntimagines]

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. 

5

4

3

2

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? 

[even-disco-baby]

COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.

PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.

ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.

PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.

ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.

Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.

[Try to sit up.]

ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.

…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.

YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.

PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.

The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.

+1 MORALE

Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!

Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.

I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]

INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.

But…

YOU — But?!

INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.

PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.

YOU — [Pull out the photo.]

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.

You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.

INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…

It’s a great photo.

EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”

COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.

HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.

“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”

“God, Kim, you scared me…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”

He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.

“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”

“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”

“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”

HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.

“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”

“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”

“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.

COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”

INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…

“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]

“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]

KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”

“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…

KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.

“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”

EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.

“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”

“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”

“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”

“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”

“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”

“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”

“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.

EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.

“What else did the phasmid say?”

YOU — “A lot of things.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”

EMPATHY — He means it.

YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”

“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”

“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”

“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.

EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.

YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.

“I guess so,” he says softly.

VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.

[definitelynotstable]

Camomile pt. 9 [Ghost x gn!Reader]

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10

AN: Ok this series just started out as cute one shots and now I have to think of a plot god damn.

Synopsis: The 141 celebrate your return to duty with a night out at the local pub. Ghost and you argue over Price's decision to clear you for duty. Word count: 1.8k Warnings: Casual drinking, mention of past trauma, arguments Ghost x gn!Reader (callsign Rags): Soap doesn’t know what kombucha is, Gaz doesn’t like mulled wine and Ghost gets a bit overprotective. Fluff, light-angst, etc.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

It’s nearly a month till you’re cleared for duty. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been lonely. The guys were gone for recon missions half the time and you were either stuck behind a desk playing secretary, in physic therapy or in therapy therapy. It was a tiring routine. 

But it didn’t stop you from feeling a little proud when you were able to present Price with a clean bill of health. He’d raised a skeptical brow as he skimmed the mental health section – no one in the military was well in that regard and most of you knew how to con a therapist. The nightmares hadn’t stopped and you supposed they never would. But  you’d stopped jumping at random sounds or flinching when touched unexpectedly. You were fit for work and you knew it. 

“Everything okay, Captain?” You asked, felling slightly nervous. He could, in theory, refuse to accept the medical certificate and write you off. The man instead sighed and with a flick of his pen he signed off on it. 

“You have any problems, you come to me – am I clear?” He said sternly, leaning his elbows on his desk and creating a steeple with his fingertips. “I’m not stupid – wiser soldiers than you and I take years to get over this kind of shit, Rags. No on e would blame you off you needed more time.”

You frown, jaw set. “I’m ready, sir.”

He looks at you for a moment, eyes hard and unwavering – searching for any cracks in your resolve. Finally he nods, pushing up with his hands on the desk to stand. “Alright,” he reaches over the desk to shake your hand, “Welcome back, sergeant.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Good on ye!” Soap claps you on the back with a grin, “Glad tae have ye back!”

Soap and Gaz had negotiated with Price on the optics of a mid-week visit to the local pub. They never confirmed nor denied his verdict. You suspect permission wasn’t explicitly given. 

Nevertheless, here you were. The three of you crammed into the usual booth in the back corner, a spot with the best view of all possible exists and entries. An old habit. It wasn’t particularly fancy – some might even call it dingy. But you liked the exposed brick walls, the dented and paint chipped bar made it feel homey. You favourite part was the roaring fire in the centre of the wall at the back, cracked leather armchairs with slightly scratchy pillows arranged in front of it. There was a dartboard off to one side, the wall behind completely littered in holes from drunken misses. The health and safety concerns behind having darts in a pub was certainly still up for debate – though you’d certainly spent a few evenings versing Gaz at the game.

“Thanks mate,” you smile over your mug of mulled wine – another reason this spot was a favourite – “Price was a bit hesitant, but I don’t think he could say no to the med-cert.”

“You’d be surprised,” Gaz remarked, some foam from his beer clinging to his upper lip, “he held LT back from an op once, claimed he faked the certificate.”

“And had he?”

“I had.” The low voice makes you jump as Ghost himself slides in next to Gaz, in the space across from you. “In fairness, I was a lot younger than I am now – and stupider.”

“Can’t’ve been that long ago then, mate.” Gaz jokes, passing the Lieutenant the drink he’d bough for him earlier. Ghost gives his arm a punch but thanks Gaz quietly for the drink anyway, taking a small sip. 

“What held ye up?” Soap asks when the lieutenant shrugs of his jacket.

“Bloody paperwork,” he grumbles, “I don’t envy you, Rags. Just a couple of hours has me going mental – I can’t fathom a full day.”

You nod sympathetically, “Yeah, can’t say I’d recommend it.”

“Rags was just tellin’ us Price cleared ‘em for duty,” Soap says proudly, “I said we’d each buy ‘em a drink.”

“That so?” Ghost raises a pale brow at you, balaclava pulled up so he can drink. You blush under his stare. “Not sure how he’d react if you showed up to trainin’ hungover.”

You scoff, “It’s a week night, I’m drinking mulled wine.”

“Surely mulled wine can still get you drunk.” Gaz says, setting his empty glass down with a thud.

You shake your head with a laugh, “They cook it out, Gaz. There isn’t much alcohol left in here at all.”

“But surely there’s an amount you could have that’d do it – like kombucha – right?”

“What in the world is kombucha?!” Soap splutters, licking at the beer on his upper lip. You laugh as Gaz attempts to explain it. 

“Tha’ sounds horrid.” The scot says, looking ill. 

“It’s not bad,” you say, still grinning at Soap’s expression. “I’m sure there is an amount, Gaz, but you’d probably die of overconsumption before getting drunk, or something like that.”

“Boring.” Gaz mutters, flicking his empty glass away, “What’s the point in non-alcoholic wine, anyway?”

“Because they put spices and shit in it – it’s delicious.”

“Doubt that.”

“Here, try some,” you shove your half empty mug in his direction, some splashed onto the table, “it’s good, I promise.”

Gaz wrinkles his nose, pushing the mug away with a single finger, “I’m ok, thanks.”

You roll your eyes and reach out to take your drink back when a pale hand intercepts you. Ghost takes a long sip and licks the excess from his lips, watching you with something playful in his eyes. 

“You’d do well to expand your palette, Gaz,” the lieutenant drawls, setting the mug back down in front of you, “instead of only drinking beer like you’ve just turned eighteen.”

Gaz snorts indignantly, “Ok, grandad.”

Ghost just smirks, sculling the rest of his whiskey.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Though Gaz and Soap are smarter than to get drunk the night before an early training, it still takes Ghost and you a while to drag them away from the bar. 

“Social butterflies,” you scoff, slumping onto the couch in the kitchen after successfully directing the two men to their rooms. Ghost clicks the door to the hallway shut and flicks in the jug. 

“Horny bastards.” Ghost offers instead and you laugh.

“All it takes is for the pair to have a single sip of alcohol and suddenly the pub’s their oyster.”

The lieutenant hums in agreement. “Camomile?”

“Yes please,” you groan, kicking off your boots and sinking further into the couch. You sling an arm across your eyes but still watch the man as he potters around in the kitchen. You smile as he reshuffles the mug shelf to find your favourite mug. He finds it and turns to place it on the bench next to his when he notices you watching.

“What?”

You grin, snuggling further into the couch with a sigh.“Nothing.”

The lieutenant huffs, returning to the mugs. Steam curls around him as the boiling water hits the cool ceramic. God he looks gorgeous in such a domestic setting. You’ll never get over it. 

“Here,” a mug hovers in front of your face, you push yourself up and take it from him with a small “thanks”.

Instead of settling at the table like usual, the lieutenant nods at the other side of the couch. “Scoot.”

You curl your legs under you, careful not to spill your tea as the couch shifts as he sinks down next to you. 

“So,” he says, leaning into the arm of the chair and angling himself to face you, “Price cleared you for duty, huh?”

You nod slowly, unsure where this is going. “Albeit hesitantly, but yes.”

“Hmm.” He replies, taking a long sip from his mug. 

You frown, “What? You disagree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

You scoff, “Ok well that reaction heavily implied you did.”

He leans forward, eyes hard. “I just think – look none of us would judge you if you needed more time.”

“It’s been over a month!” You point out, exasperated. “Price wouldn’t have said yes if he didn’t think I was ready –”

–“I never said I thought you weren’t ready –“

“Then what are you saying?!” You cry, hitting the side of the couch with your free hand, Ghost watches you with wide eyes. “What is your problem?”

“I’m just saying – recovery doesn’t have a deadline.”

“I know that,” you snap, “but I can't keep babying myself. It's been long enough.”

The man across from you narrows his cobalt eyes, “Babying yourself? You call healing from trauma babying yourself?”

“No, I call wrapping myself in cotton wool and avoiding anything that reminds me of what happened babying myself.”

“Or maybe it's about bein’ cautious,” Ghost replies, voice stern and hard as steel, “about making sure you're in the right mental state before jumpin’ back into a warzone.”

“I've faced worse – we all have. I'm not going to let fear control me.” You’re glaring at him now and he glares back.

He shakes his head. “This isn't about fear, it's about being smart. You could be a liability out there if you're not mentally prepared.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, pushing yourself off of the couch. “So now you think I can't handle myself? That I'm a liability to the team?” 

“I never said that.” He growls firmly. “But if you're not thinking clearly, you put yourself and others at risk.”

“You're overthinking this.” You hiss, “I told you I’m fine.”

“You're not fine!” Ghost mirrors you, pushing himself to his feet where he towers over you, eyes shimmering. “You're pushing yourself into something you're not ready for.”

You push him with your freehand. He doesn’t budge and it only adds fuel to the fire. “And you're being overprotective, as always!”

The lieutenant steps closer, his voice low and intense “Because I care about you, damn it.”

You pause, mouth slightly agape – your retort forgotten. 

“I care about what happens to you out there.” He says, stepping closer, eyes softer now.

“I know,” you say, searching his eyes, “I know you do. And I don’t expect you to understand. I just need you to respect my choice.”

You watch as he sighs, shoulder slumping. “I do understand,” he murmurs, “and I do respect your choice, I just –“

You cut him off by stepping closer, wrapping your arms around him. He tenses for a moment but relaxes in your hold. “I know.” You whisper into his warm chest, “I know you understand.”

He sighs again, arms finally wrapping around you, a hand settling in your hair. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.”

You laugh into his chest, “I raised mine first, I should be the one apologising. “

He lowers his chin to rest on the top of your head. “I know you’ve been trying, I know you’re doing better. I just can’t help but think of how you were when we found you –“

“Shh,” you hush, rubbing small circles into his back, “I’m ok, you got me back. I’m safe.”

A deep breath shudders through his chest beneath your cheek. “Promise?”

You pull away, his arms loosen but still around you. “Promise.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Tag list:

@alanalanalanalanalanna

Comment if you want to be added :)

Masterlist

[rippersz]

1. Lover's Tears

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

October Challenge Day 1: Lover's Tears

(Angsty Larissa Weems x Reader) (Character Death; Ambiguous ending)

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One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Move.

Six.

Go!

Seven.

Save her!

Eight.

She’s dying!

Nine.

PLEASE!

Ten.

“Professor!”

You startle, nearly snapping your head right off of your neck as you look up to meet the dark gaze of Wednesday Addams. She looks uncharacteristically shaken; like the fact that Larissa’s dying on the floor suddenly made it all clear to her. Everything is real. And the woman she respects more than anything is having a seizure. And there’s nothing she can do about it. And there’s nothing you can do about it. And the Gods are watching you stand there like an idiot, staring at her paralyzed body as if your eyes alone could save her life.

“Do something! Heal her!”

You start to shake your head, nearly certain it’s too late- you can feel it in your bones- but your feet move anyway. Taking you stumbling over to Larissa’s side; falling there onto your bare knees; wincing as the cobblestone smacks against your body.

Wednesday says something, shouts something, then runs off somewhere, leaving you alone with the desperate gasps of Larissa’s soul. She’s choking- shaking- looking around with unfocused glassy eyes- seeing something beyond the veil of life.

“Larissa,” you whisper, lifting trembling hands to her cold face, guiding it to look at you.

White foam crowds around the corners of her lips, dripping down to her chin, as she stares. There’s so much happening in her mind, you know. There’s fear- there’s worry- there’s the terrifying realization that she couldn’t protect those she swore to protect. The regrettable vision of failure.

“Larissa,” it’s a small quiet plea, “Larissa please-” but there’s nothing to plead for. There’s nothing to find.

She’s dying. Quickly. And your knowledge of healing, of cures, of medicines and aids, will do you no good. Tonic for nightshade is in your room on the other side of the academy - and you can’t leave her side. You won’t leave her side.

But she doesn’t even know you’re there, does she?

Her lashes are starting to flutter. Her hands have fallen limp.

You push your palms against her cheeks, trail them down her jaw, cradle the back of her head.

“Larissa, Larissa listen to me-” it’s helpless, you know, “cmon cmon- open your- no no open your eyes,” your fingers twitch, eager to move and smack some sense into her, but you know it won’t help.

You know nothing will help.

You know it’s pointless. But you try anyway. You slide onto your bottom, slowly bringing Larissa’s head into your lap, sinking your fingertips into the soft white of her hair. Your thumbs reach up to catch the slow tears that roll toward her ears. She’s still looking through you, upside down and up at the ceiling, not registering the way your face crumples. Not seeing the slow red that bleeds onto your cheeks.

“Larissa.”

She coughs. The white goes everywhere, sticking to your face, landing on your forearms, but you don’t take notice. She coughs again. Each time, you flinch.

It feels so slow- her death- but you know it’s quick. You know it’s done. Already over. Already gone and passed. She’s already dead in your lap. Her heart’s slowing within her chest. Her life is flowing out of her skin as you sit there - just sit there, holding her as if she’s still alive.

Her head goes limp. Her eyes dim. You watch. You watch, horrified.

“Larissa,” your body moves to shake her, to tip her head to the left then the right then back again. “Larissa, come on. Please!” There’s no answer, of course. She’s dead. Don’t be silly. She’s dead.

And no one can say how long you sit there.

No one can say how long you stare at her corpse. Frozen. Trying to picture the way her smile curls onto her face, but finding the image fleeting and faded.

Her skin grows cold and clammy beneath your hands.

Time passes quickly.

When you move your palm to rest over her heart, and hear nothing, you finally give into yourself. You finally feel the breath in your lungs stutter - and then stop. And then start again. And stop. And soon, you’re hyperventilating. Sobbing. Clutching at her shoulders and pulling her close, taking no comfort in the weight of her head pressed to your stomach. Dead weight, is all you can think. Dead weight dead weight dead weight dead weight dead weight dead weight dead weight dead weight-

Tears roll down the hills of your cheeks, tumbling and tumbling and tumbling without stop- without guilt- without anyone there to catch your tears because the only woman you want catching your tears is fucking dead in your arms.

And you can’t bring her back.

What will herbs do? What will medicines do? She’s gone.

There’s only so much you could’ve done. But leaving her alone was inexcusable. And now she’s gone.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You’re so sorry, so full of anguish, so busy grieving grieving grieving- that you don’t see the way your tears trickle onto the soft skin of her pale neck… and start to glow. Only a soft, barely-there kind of glow, but a glow nonetheless. Faint. Yellow. And white. All of the above.

It’s not like it would matter though. She’s still dead.

Not your fault, of course, but that doesn’t matter.

That doesn’t matter. It never mattered. It never would.

“I’m sorry Larissa. Believe me. I’m sorry. I’m so- I’m-”

Why are you apologizing?

What do you have to apologize for?

What’s wrong?

Why are you sad?

She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine. Just sleeping. She’s fine. She’s going to be okay. Stop overreacting. Stop fucking APOLOGIZING-

“Professor.”

Wednesday’s voice floats into the silence.

You shake your head. You can’t deal with her. You can’t deal with anything.

“She’s gone,” you tell the girl. “She’s just- gone.” Your hands tighten.

No more Larissa Weems.

No more Nevermore.

No more joy. No more happiness. No more good things in the world without her. Everything drained from the color of everything else. Grey and black and white. Grey and black and white.

“She’s breathing.”

What?

Don’t be silly.

You snort, sniffle, cough. You shake your head again.

“That’s- that’s terrible, Wednesday. Don’t joke about this.” And you’re about to say more- you’re about to raise your voice and say more- but she speaks first.

“She is,” the toneless voice speaks, full of conviction and truth. “Look.”

You can’t. Your hands move instead. One flits over her side and lands on her stomach, the other keeps her head close. And you breathe. You breathe. Slowly. In and out. And your hand moves.

And she breathes with you.

The tears in your eyes clear themselves, rolling over your skin, quickly forgotten when you peer through your lashes, looking up, only to see her chest. Moving. Slowly. Barely. A gentle up and down. A sweet sign of life.

Why is she breathing?

“We need to get her to a hospital.”

You hear the girl but you don’t listen. Hospitals are too far. She needs a cure. Quickly. Be quick.

“In my quarters,” you breathe, ruffling a few strands of Larissa’s snowy hair. “Beneath the sink in the en suite, on the left is a black box. Three glass vials, all purple. Get me two. No,” you reconsider, leaning back to look at the paleness of Larissa’s face. “Three. All of them. Quick!” And you tug the key out of your pocket, throw it across the floor in her general direction, and cradle the woman’s head again.

Alive, somehow.

She’s alive.

Your hand presses harder onto her chest, feeling the faint weak pulse of her heart.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump…

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

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I'm not gonna tag people during the October Challenge! It's a bit too much for me. So here we go. I don't like it, but whateva. That's why it's a challenge, I suppose. - Rip x

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[onmyyan]

🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon, here again! #3?

I don’t think you’re ever gettin rid of me now that you’ve told me you like what I’ve submitted to ya. Ya bad for me n my ego. You’re enabling me hun. It does mean a lot to me though and I am very happy I’m makin you foam at the mouth. Your men make me go feral and I obviously have stage 4 brain rot for all your OCs. No treatment for me. No salvation either doc

So here some intense follow up appointment delulu I got from the long ass Ashley Hunt AU story with hard core city girl reader I sent earlier. Buckle up bitch…you’re probably always gonna be in for a long haul with me…

Leavin off from Ash and our HEA, we got twins on the way n shit. And Ash is gonna give us at least another 5 babies too since we his happy lil breedin sow. But we gon speed up in time and not focus too much on dat, cause in the end we got 6 sons and 1 lil baby girl who da youngest. All back to back pregnancies. Ash got dem sexy hot dominant genes and really just gave his sons all the gifts he himself has. Tall, handsome, strong, chivalrous, charismatic, intelligent, etc. (They probably god’s favorites too). And we were like a fuckin printin machine makin copies n wonderin why the fuck we havin so many sons. So we fuckin delighted when we finally got a baby girl and are finally able to put the towel in cause we were also done havin his babies too. We love him. But 7 is plenty…

And so our story is really gonna focus on our lil baby Princess, cause she’s basically gonna be the “new reader insert.” Lil baby Princess grows up as a total daddy’s girl and is also doted on by her 6 big bros. She knows how to do some farm work, though she mostly inside helpin us her mama doin domestic work as it’s a bit more tough takin care of 7 men by oneself and we can always use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. And you bet Ash is drillin in the same work ethic into his own sons as his own pa did to him. Builds character...

Lil baby Princess grows up wantin more in life. Just like how Ash’s sons inherited near almost everything from him, she inherited near almost everything from us her mama. Princess wanna leave the small town fast and is dead set on doin so when she graduates with her associates degree from the local community college. Her daddy, Ash managed to convince her to stay at the community college first. Get out general eds, stay closer to home before makin the big city leap and potentially getting a bachelors degree. Reluctantly Princess agreed to it but still had to go to the next town over since that’s where the community college is. Her home town is still much smaller…

And so she finally got her associates degree at 21 and is headin to the city to find a job n new life once the summer passes. It’ll be her last summer at home with her family she’s decided. On one of her casual outings ridin a horse she finds a man stuck on the road. Flat tire. Nice car too. He’s very handsome, tall, and muscular…to everyone else. But to Princess he just average and nothin much to look at. That what livin with 7 men built by Greek gods for 21 years does to ya. Makes ya numb to everyone people will conventionally say is beautiful n attractive. And Princess grew up with every woman around her thirstin over one of her bros and her father too. Even women from other towns would find excuses to swing by and gawk at the 7 men workin on the farm. So needless to say Princess isn’t wooed by men’s appearances…

Princess decides to help the poor fellow out cause her daddy raised her right. Offers him up a ride on her horse and tells the man she’ll call a truck for his car later. The man accepts and thinkin she’ll have to help him up on the horse for some time, the man easily mounts on the horse like it’s the second nature? And in an expensive suit too? She shakes it off and they go back to the Hunt farm…

During the ride the man asks Princess her name and what not (and I guess it’d still be Y/N cause the excuse is that she was named after her mama by Ash’s demands). Princess asks his name too, he gives it to her, and then no more talking on her end. This confuses the man as all his life people have usually wanted to make conversation with him. Or have usually always commented on his beautiful appearance by now. But not Princess. She really doesn’t give a shit about a stranded man’s life story. She’s here to do a job and get on with her life. And of course she’s immune to beauty at this point…

They finally come to the Hunt residence where Princess puts away her horsie and fixes up the man some water and food, bein a good host and all. She calls up the local mechanic and informs them of the details. Princess then just straight up leaves the man and tells him if he wants to take a nap, shower, whatever, to help himself. This is a fuckin power move as Princess has truly run out of shits to give in life. And she still ain’t tryin to converse at all with the man. Man is livid right now. Seeing Princess’s eyes filled with indifference. He confused as fuck too. Wonderin if she mentally sound or this is some country culture etiquette he doesn’t understand…

Now for the good shit. The Hunt men all come in as with so many hands workin on the farm now, shit gets done exponentially faster even though they got more stock and stuff over the years. They a little confused at first seein a posh lookin man greet them. But nothin gets bad as the man quickly explains the situation that happened. And the man is stunned to lookin at all these 7 aesthetically gorgeous men. The man is very confident in his own looks and it rarely happens in his life that he starts to get a bit insecure about them…

Ash asks the man where his daughter is, and the man replies that she just left? Much to the laughter of Ash’s 6 sons howling that “they’ll have nothing to ever worry about” with Princess. The man’s ego is damaged at this point. Is he unattractive? Is he undesirable? But he easily keeps a calm and collected face and voice…

The Hunt men politely excuse themselves having to go wash up from workin all day, leaving the man all alone again. We the mama enter the area, having heard commotion n stuff. We were preparing dinner n stuff in the kitchen which was far away. We go through same process and introduce and meet the mystery man. The phone rings and it’s the mechanic tellin us that the car won’t be ready for quite some time and the man will have to hitch a ride out of town if he’s got somewhere to be urgently. We inform the man and also ask if he got a place to stay. He don’t since he was just drivin by the town, so we offer him our home for the time bein. He hesitantly accepts…

Man decides to converse with us instead since we’re the most hospitable and social person he’s met in the family. He asks about our family and we do him. He keeps his background vague and we get the hint not to pock around. He really is just curious about our daughter, the Princess of the family. And we happily tell him all about her. Her hopes and dreams n stuff. Much to his delight that Princess seems like a normal human being n not a mechanical doll…

And that when he get the idea to propose to Princess later to take her with him out of the town to see the city and new places. Cause while he hasn’t fallen in love with her at first sight or anything like Ash did, there’s something about us that’s drawing him near. Perhaps it is our absolute indifference to him, and the fact that he just wants to prove something to himself. He wants to “figure us out.” Princess is a bit of a conquest and trophy to him, and he’s not afraid to admit that. So what’s the harm in this mutually future beneficial relationship? He’ll provide for Princess to get out of town and be able to see the world, and in turn he’ll get us to fall for him. The perfect plan. Nothing can go wrong…

A Princess for a Grand Duke, isn’t that fitting? Though the man will keep that a secret for as long as he can. If she asks questions about his wealth he’ll just pretend he’s an investor or something. One things for sure, Princess will definitely keep him entertained for a long time. A really really really long time…⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

And scene! I just love imaginin different flavors of a yandere stories. Like dis one is obviously a much more slower burn than the whirlwind romance of Ash and his wifey. And it’d really follow the descent of madness of a Grand Duke yandere who’s truly falling into love and obsession over his lady. He thinkin he in control at first but realize steadily fast that he can’t live without her. And to make it worse, he never lose control of things in his life. Not his looks, his composure, etc. so it makes this predicament even nastier for him to deal with. But lucky for us Princess, havin grown up with Ash as our daddy and 6 big bros who also have some questionable “protective” tendencies, we have a bit of a contorted sense of love too. So our “normal” is much different than other people’s “normal”

Also did you like the hint I dropped in dis drabble about the mystery man’s background? It was about him being able to easily get up on a horse despite being in a suit and lookin all fancy and stuff. Cause not many people can do that. So you either know how to do it as a career…or as a hobby…

Final thought as to why a Grand Duke yandere ya thinkin? From your OCs ya got the Delmonts who are criminal flavor, then Ash who’s country flavor, and then other popular yandere archetypes tend to be royalty, famous, or CEO more often than not. So I thought that royalty would be fun since it’d give the new leadin man not just an abundance of financial power but social power as well that CEO power might lack. Ya know…since royals can have diplomatic immunity and CEOs pretty much don’t. Some new flavors for the spice cabinet is always good. Besides I also just wanna see a man abuse his absolute power with impunity in yandere stories sometimes…So if ya ever decide to make a new yandere OC. Here an idea. I don’t mind ya usin it and I’d be thrilled if ya did

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

A/N: OKAYA THE INSTANT BRAIN ROT THIS GSVE ME SBDJDKD YOU DID IT AGAIN MY LOVE OMG THE WAYYY I INSTANTLY FELL IN LOVE WJTH THIS PIECE EEEE THE SIX OLDER BROTHERS WHO ARE CARBON COPIES OF ASH??? HELLO??? AMAZING WRITING THAT DOWN Holy FUCK‼️‼️‼️💗👄💗 NOT TO MENTION THE DUKE EEEEEEEE AND PRINCESS IS SUCH A PERFECT NICKNAME FOR BABY GIRL I CANNOT YOUR MIND IS SO BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME AND US ONCE AGAIN😩😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️UR POOKIE FR HERE SUM V SMALL BEC MY BRAIN IMMEDIATELY STARTED HAPPY DANCING W THIS CONCEPT

Princess stared at the man, her hard (e/c) eyes unwaivering, unmoving in their glare. She sucked her teeth, hearing her father's voice in her head as she stuck her hand up waving the stranger over.

"Get on, we'll take you somewhere safe, get this all figured out yea?" Princess says, no hint of suggestion in her soft voice. The stranger staggered for a moment before offering her his famous grin, a smile that had gotten him far in his life, "Thank you- really you're too kind, what's your name?" He says smoothly mounting the horse, expecting some fanfare from the desert rose before him, but instead he got a stiff nod and, "(Y/n)." was all he got.

She clicked her tongue and the horse took off, she hadn't waited to see if he was situated, a small smile on her face as she heard him gasp at their sudden departure.

[elk96]

Hi! 😄

I wanted to know if you could be a top male reader. Where he and Cillian met in a bar, they spoke little so he couldn't ask for his number but the reader fell in love with him and his blue eyes, and one day when looking at photos of his friends he realizes that Cillian is a friend. from one of his friends, and is surprised because they never told him about him, so the reader asks his friend where he could meet Cillian again, and when they meet again, the reader flirts with him by saying things like:How about I kiss you, how about I buy you coffee tomorrow? What if you are the man of my life?

hello and thank you so so much for your request!!😁 it is my first request so it gave me endless joy😂

I so liked your prompt I had to make it into a two part story.

Hope you enjoy it!

What If Part 1

Cillian Murphy x Male reader

Words: 2457

Warnings: none (smut in part 2)

Of course, no disrespect to Cillian Murphy or his family intended! It's just a fictional story folks.

The bar was quiet, yet annoyingly full of people. Most of them danced slowly near the corners, but the queue for the drinks was large. You shoved your change in your pocket and grabbed your drink to get out of there, when a sharp voice caught your attention. It was one of the bartenders.

“And what do you want me to do lad, pour it back into the bottle?!”, he shouted angrily at the customer. 

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t pay for it-

“What’s the matter”? you asked pleasantly, approaching the pair. You glanced at the bartender, then the money laid in front of a Guiness. The customer had closed his eyes, pushing his head towards his chest. So much drama for such a little inconvenience, you thought.

“There, I'll pay it off”, you said to the bartender and gave him the missing coins. “No need to worry mate, come on”, you added, and with both drinks at hand, you found a quieter spot in a corner. You looked behind you to find the man you’d just helped come after you flustered and embarrassed.

“God you’re not from around here, are you”?, you asked with a smile and handed him his beer.

“I just left the house in a haste. Though I had more money with me, you know”? He took a large sip. “Thank you so much by the way, I wasn’t in the mood for trouble. I’m Cillian”.

A small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you reached to shake his hand. Your heart was dancing in your chest. His touch was smooth, warm, his hand large and yet frail, just like the rest of him.

“What’s your name”? Cillian asked as you continued to just stare at him.

You cursed yourself mentally looking at the ceiling for a brief moment in frustration. “Sorry, I was thinking about something. Um. Y/N. Y/N Y/LN. Lovely outfit, may I add”.

Cillian chuckled and looked down at himself as if to actually remember what he was wearing. White and red striped shirt, blue navy cardigan, ripped cuffed blue jeans. A small silver earring added even more spark to his face, as if those eyes weren’t dazzling enough already.

Cillian rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “It’s just my casual fit you know? Something to keep me going through the day”.

“Rough day, I presume”.

“Yeah…Sometimes I just…I don’t know…Lose my faith in humanity, I guess. With everything that’s happening around here…I’ve always been trying to be one of those ‘look at the bright side’ kind of people, but now…”.

“You’re talking about the person who stole those charity funds hm”?, you asked sympathetically. The news had caused great shock in all the country. “I suppose that’s always been man’s nature though, hasn’t it? We can’t deny it”.

“But we can fight it-and we have to fight it, otherwise what’s the point”?, Cillian asked in a haste and gulped down his beer.

Absent-mindedly you reached to swipe some of the foam gathered on the corner of his eyes. You only then noticed that he’d finished his drink, while you were only one sip down with your. Cause you were drinking him with your eyes…

“Thank you for the beer again, I have work to do”, Cillian murmured, and with a soft “Good night”, he slipped between the crowd and…left. He had just…left. You kicked the wall next to you for letting him go like that. You could’ve asked for his number or something!

You closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning on the wall. He is gone now. And, nobody said that there was much to happen anyway. What if he’d left so quickly because of your gesture? What if he’d cringed?

“Oh what a stupid reason to stay awake at night…”, you whispered to yourself and finished your drink. You had paperwork to do-loads of paperwork, actually, but all you would think about would be that ethereal man. Chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, soft nose. Not even Michaelangelo had carved beauty like his.

—----

Three days had passed and all you could do was think about Cillian-which was why you had agreed to go see the game at your friends’ house. Many of his pals would be there, since tomorrow one of them had his birthday, Will was throwing a party for him.

“Hello Y/N, so glad to see you mate! I didn't think you’d come”.

“Yeah, me neither, but I needed a break from work”.

“Oh come on”, his friend complained. “All you do is work and sleep, when are you going to have some fun? Find a girl, have a good time”!

“Oh I’m sorry sir William but not all of us have rich parents”, you joked and stepped inside. 5 other men were sitting on the couch and on the floor, waiting excitedly for the game to start. You smiled at them and then walked to the kitchen. You poured yourself a cup of water from the fridge. You had recently moved into the city, so you didn’t have many friends, and all your old ones were now scattered across the globe. William and his pals were good, fun-but they were made only to party and talk big. You hadn’t bothered to confess that you weren’t interested in girls, you just gave lame excuses about having too much work.

“Did you print the photographs''? William said conspicuously, making you flinch in surprise. He had asked you to print some cursed photos of the birthday boy and the group. Whether he wanted to blackmail him or give them to him, you didn’t know, but it was unimportant.

“Yes, I did”, you answered and handed them over to Will. “Scott looks like he’s pissed drunk in that one”, you laughed and pointed at the picture that interested you.

“Eh, you know Scott, always the quiet one”, Will smiled. You liked Scott. “But the most ridiculous one is Cillian”.

You drew in a sharp breath at the sound of his name-so it was him after all. When you’d seen the face in the picture you thought it was just wishful thinking on your part, a trick of your mind.

You furrowed your brow, pretending not to know. “Cillian? New addition to the gang”? you joked.

“Nah, we just hang out once or twice. He was the leading man on the play Scott participated in, so we became acquainted. Nice lad. Scott loves him ‘because he introduced him to a writer and now he thinks he’ll be able to work full-time at the theater like Cill. Let’s hope he finds out you need talent to do that because he quits his job, huh”? William laughed and went to the living room to find the others.

A sweet sense of anticipation lingered over you. He worked full time at the theater…You knew where to find him.

The next day, the sun rose vibrant and promising, the weather was crisp but not cold. You were walking faster than usual, anxious to find Cillian in the cafe Scott said he was going to in between theater breaks. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you felt confident. You had finished all your work, for the days to come, so you had no responsibilities, and with the weekend right on the next corner…who knew what would happen? You took a swift glance at yourself at a shop’s window to make sure everything looked in place, and then entered the cafe.

It was a small, cozy place with lots of cushions, orange lamps and vintage wooden tables. It’s calm, romantic ambience enveloped you, easing your nerves completely. You inhaled the intricate smell of brewed coffee, and then you saw him. He was sitting alone in the small attic of the place, where no tables but rather large pillows were places for those who searched for a break from the chit chat and noise. He was wearing a fluffy blue turtle-neck, which brought out those incredible eyes of his.

You ordered your favorite coffee and with the cup in hand you climbed up the stairs to meet him.

“Mind if I join”?, you asked with a smile.

Cillian put down the book he was reading, his features illuminated by joy for seeing you.

“Y/N! Of course, you needn’t have asked. Good to see you again”, he added softly.

You sat next to him on the soft material, placing your coffee on a little hanging shelf.

“You too. I was thinking about you actually…”, you said in a  low voice. “What you told me '', you added to make it a bit more subtle. “Are you better now”?

“Hey, I didn’t mean to sound so depressive, '' he explained. “It’s just that I had worked in a play for the guy that collected and then stole the money. I thought he had integrity and honesty-but anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. How come you found this place”?

You held your breath, contemplating whether you should give him the real reason or just make up an excuse.

“I was out for a casual walk, and it looked cozy and cute, so I thought I’d come in for a cup of coffee. What are you reading? "you asked and picked up his book. “Call me by your name, my my! I thought you’d be more of a Dostoyefsky and Kafka type of guy”, you laughed, while your heart clenched in hope.

“Oh I am”, Cillian answered. “Or Bukowski, or Oscar Wilde, or Max Porter. But this particular book, I’d read some twelve years ago, and I still go back to it when I need a boost. Their relationship is so pure”, he said, his voice trailing off into nothing. 

You tentatively brushed your fingertips against his own, held your hand there when he didn’t shy away from your touch. But he didn’t dare look you in the eyes.

“I always found it very sad…how long it takes them before they understand the depth of their feelings…And when they do, there is no time to enjoy their love”, you said softly admiring the softness of his skin, the delicacy of his features.

“I’d rather have one true kiss with someone than a relationship based on lies”, he mumbled almost inaudibly and that was when you placed your hand on his chin.

“What if I kissed you right now”? you whispered, turning his face towards yours. Cillian looked at you with surprise, but then, he closed his eyes, giving you the smallest of nods.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his soft ones, savoring his smell. You kissed his bottom lip, sucking on it gently before you parted his lips with your tongue. You felt him melt into your touch as you licked into his mouth gently. You broke the kiss, both gasping for air. His cheeks were flushed, chest rising rapidly.

“You look so fucking beautiful when you’re all ”, you whispered in his ear, pulling him towards you for a more passionate kiss. You brushed your hands through his silky hair, sucking at his full lips. Cillian needily wrapped his arms around your torso, and a small whine left him when you lapped on his mouth.

When you pulled back you were both disheveled.

A mean, low laugh came from downstairs, and when you looked, two blokes were pointing fingers at you, rolling their eyes and judging stupidly. Cillian picked up his book quickly, pulling away from you. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, you apologized for your boldness.

“It’s not your fault, I just…worry about work. I don’t want word to spread and stuff”, Cillian answered hoarsely, and you understood that completely. It wasn’t necessary that people know about your affairs, no matter the sexuality or gender.

“How about I  buy you a coffee tomorrow, or a beer at that bar and we talk about it?, you asked hesitantly.

Cillian thought about it while his thumb brushed nervously against your hand.

“I really like you Y/N”, he confessed.

“I’ve been thinking about you, Cill. For over three days now. We could go to my place-for something casual, I mean. To talk…I really want to get to know you better. Because I like you too. Very much”.

You admired the ethereal color of his eyes a little longer while Cillian prepared mentally for what awaited him. After a rather eventful break up, he wasn’t in the right headspace to connect intimately with someone again-especially a person of the same sex- but the attraction he felt, the warmth in his stomach and at the same time, the trust he had in you eased his uncertainty off.

Having already paid for your drinks, you left the picturesque cafe and walked to your place. It was a short walk under the warm sun and you were happier than you’d been in a long, long time. Cillian was introverted and shy, laughing nervously at your jokes and fidgeting with the hem of his sweater. It would scare you, how hard you were falling for him, if he weren’t honest and pure-hearted as he was.

You poured drinks for both of you and he sat on the living room carpet-another quirky habit of his along with the fact that he was always fidgeting-and you continued your conversation. He told you all about the play he was rehearsing at the moment, Grief Is A Thing With Feathers, opening his heart about the toll the role had taken on him. He had a beautiful way of speaking, soft and calm, and yet you understood almost right off how passionate he was about his work.

You could also sense that while eager, he also felt out of his depth a little bit, being alone with a man that regarded him as something more than a friend.

And then, you brought up your love for music, and the conversation went on for hours. In his nerdy way, he could speak insightfully about the songs he loved, how he connected with them. 

The sun was beginning to set when you stood up, putting some jazz music playing on the radio. You turned on the warm, low lights on the side of the wall to create a romantic atmosphere, looking at Cillian.

“Up for a dance”?

“I’m not a great dancer”, he murmured, breath caught in his throat.

“How badly can you mess up some simple steps”?, you bit back, pulling him up by the forearm. You led him away from the furniture so you had a bit more free space, wrapping your arms around his waist. He let his hands drop lightly at your shoulder blades, shying away from your eyes. You began to move in small steps, following the rhythm of the music.

[inherstars]

Future Days | The Last of Us (1 of 2)

I'd posted the first little part of this awhile ago, it was initially a roleplaying starter someone asked me for, but then they vanished, so I'm like, "Alright, fuck it, might as well keep going." It's not going to be a whole-ass story, but there will be some stuff worked out. This is an alternate turnout to the scene where Joel is attacked, wherein he survives his injuries. I have to tone down some of them, because they weren't really compatible with post-apocalyptic life, but I'll get into that in the next part. Part 2 of 2 is here.

In the beginning, there wasn’t much of anything.  An impalpable darkness, a quiet, a sense of peace.  Sadness, but peace.

Little by little there were breaks and fragments in it, allowing in the light.  A razor scraping at a blacked-out window.  The glow beyond was too bright for him to make out shapes or faces on the outside, but there were colors.  Muffled sounds.  A sense of someone trying hard to look in.

Occasionally, too, there were voices.

"How long will he be like this?"

"I don't know.  We can’t know, I'm sorry."

"But he'll wake up?"

"Just... concussions are like this. He's in good shape, even for his age, but... look, we can't pretend that he can just bounce back like--"

"But he will, right?"

A sigh, firm, “It takes… time.”

Time.  His dearest friend and worst enemy.

Sometimes, a guitar played.  His memory started to cling to the steel strings, accumulating like papers blown flush against a wall in high winds.  Sometimes he liked the music -- Pearl Jam, some Johnny Cash, a little Ari Hest -- and sometimes he didn’t.  Bare Naked Ladies, really? Get that shit out of here.

One day he thought, “She still has trouble with that that Hendrix chord.”

The next day his eyes opened.

It’s early, early, early when he woke, sunlight slanting thinly through the infirmary’s gauzy curtains.  Someone or something stirred in another room, banging tin and running water, but his head was blocked to keep him from turning it on the pillow.  He couldn’t ever remember being this thirsty, parched in every cell of his body, his eyes gritty as dry ball bearings in their sockets.  Everything was dull, throbbing, marrow-deep pain.

He made a sound, a cat’s tongue rasp over disused vocal cords, and tasted blood somewhere on the back of his tongue.

“...Ellie.”

The water shut off with a spigot squeak, droplets hitting stainless steel.  Ping. ping. Ping.  He tried to move, tried to free his head from whatever had it pinned in place, slow-motion batting what felt like foam blocks on either side.

Louder, frustrated, “--Ellie.”

Something hit the floor and shattered.  Footfalls thundered nearer, and a woman bent urgently over him.

They looked at each other, stark and wide-eyed.

He had no fucking idea who this was.

“Oh my God,” she blurted.  “Oh my God, you’re awake!”

Joel gawped at her. “Uh.”

“Don’t move--Jesus Christ, don’t move.  Ellie’s going to shit--”

“Ellie,” he said again, reaching out for her.  Get your shit together, old man. Say some words that make some fucking sense.  “Is she--”

“I have to go get her.”  Her hands fumbled with his, jogging them rapidly before she planted both firmly back at his sides.  “Stay here.  What am I saying, you’re not going anywhere. Holy shit.  I’ll be right back.” “Wait, hey--”

But she was already gone, stumbling in her eagerness to flee the room, and Joel let out an impotent, frustrated breath.  He tried again to move the blocks on either side of his head, and in fumbling with the straps that secured them realized he had an IV taped to the back of one hand.  It ran somewhere out of sight behind him, vanishing into the rest of the mystery room where someone had laid him supine.  Panic started to rise like bile, tension gathering in his chest, curling his hands into fists.

What was he going to do, yell for help?  Don’t be a damned fool.  She’s getting it.  She’s already getting help.  Just lay there and don’t cause any more goddamned problems.

His eyes cast the ceiling back and forth, back and forth.  What was taking her so fucking long?

Never mind.  She said she was going to get her.  That means she can stand.  Walk.  That means she’s alive.  Nothing else matters than that.  Time will pass.

And it did, though Joel had no way to track it.  Every minute felt interminable.  After an age he finally heard someone coming -- sneakers pelting dirt, thundering wooden steps, across a porch, slapping linoleum -- and Ellie slid and skidded into his vision, tripping and crashing to one knee in her haste.  She scrambled back upright, clutching at the edge of his bed.

They looked at each other, stark and wide-eyed.

He would know her face anywhere.  A dozen lifetimes, a hundred over.  That was his daughter.

“Baby girl--”

Ellie folded like a pilgrim at the altar of his bed, sobbing.  Joel lost track of the IV line, the blocks pinning him in place, the rest of the goddamned world as she fumbled her hands into his, hid her eyes against his chest and just wept.  It was soul deep, wrenching.  A child’s wail.

Joel reserved his tears for only the most worthwhile grief and gratitude, but he shuddered with barely-contained sobs as he squeezed her hands in his, wishing he could just hold her, to drag her to him and cage her in his arms.

“I’m sorry--”

He heard the words, and couldn’t tell if they were his or hers.  Then Ellie picked her head up and said it again.

“I’m so sorry--”

“No--”

“I was--Joel, I was so fucking hard-headed and… a-and arrogant--”

“Ellie, listen--”  He sighed harshly, freeing one hand to try and rip the blocks from either side of his head. “God damn it--what the hell am I strapped to--”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright now,” a third voice joined them.  The woman from earlier reappeared -- short, stout, ginger-haired and wildly freckled -- swatting Joel’s hands away from the blocks.  “We can take these off now, I think we’ve proven your neck is OK. No no no, leave the IV alone for now. I’ll get that later. Hang on, just… give me a second here…”

Ellie reluctantly crouched back on the soles of her feet, giving her room to work, but wouldn’t let go of Joel’s hand.  In short order the redhead had him freed from a yoke of straps and foam blocks, giving his hair a thoughtlessly mothering little fix with one touseling hand.

“He needs a haircut and a beard trim,” she announced, slightly choked up.  Even from the outside it was hard not to be moved.

“I can do that,” Ellie murmured, kneeling back into place. Ellie put her head back down on his chest and he put one hand over hers at his heart, tremulously stroking her hair with the other.

“And a long bath, and a change of clothes, and a good teeth-brushing and--”

“Mimi?”  Ellie’s eyes turned up at her.  Can you give us a minute?  Mimi cleared her throat and backed away.

“I’m gonna go find Tommy, tell him what’s going on.  I expect he’ll be here lightning quick.”

“Could you maybe… walk slowly to find him?”

“I’ll do my best.”  She backed from the room, pointing at her.  “Don’t you get any ideas about moving him without help.  You hear me?”

But Ellie wasn’t listening. Joel’s heart kept time in her ear.  “...I hear you.”

They both waited until Mimi’s footfalls had left the porch steps before speaking.  It all poured out of them at the same time.

“Ellie-girl, I’m so sorry you had to see--”

“--honest to God thought you were going to die in front of me--”

“--stupid trusting those folks, I see that. I see it now, but--”

“--replaying, over and over… I can’t believe how--”

“--seeing you there, calling my name, and I just thought to myself--”

“--he’s the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“--she’s the best thing that could have happened to me.”

Silence again.  Ellie’s eyes welled and she blinked to clear them, the tears tracing rivulets over her freckled cheek.  Joel lifted his hand and stroked it away with a rough knuckle.

“I know I said I wouldn’t have done any different--”

“Joel,” she whispered.

“No, listen.  On account of life’s too damned short, and it needs saying.  I said I wouldn’t have done any different if I had a chance.  I stand by that. I could get a hundred chances and every single time I’d use them to save you.  But… I would have done right by you from the start.  I wouldn’t have lied.  I got one regret, and that’s it.”

Ellie sighed softly.  She reached out, one thumb cleaning a tear from the weathered crease of his eye.

“Joel.  I knew.”

Confusion flickered his features, but she didn’t let him interrupt.

“Not… how you’re thinking.  Not even how I was thinking.  I didn’t realize it until… well.”  Her head lifted.  “We can talk about all that.  We have the chance for that now, and I think… it’ll make more sense to both of us, this time.  Mimi may take the long way to Tommy’s, but he sure as hell isn’t going to drag his feet getting here.”  One palm caressed over his knuckles.  “We’ll talk.  We’ll get you cleaned up and sorted, and then… we’ll talk.”  She looked at him, tired but emphatic. “And things will change.”

He sighed raggedly, worn out by the simple effort of trying to process it all.  Now that the adrenaline was wearing thin, the pain was creeping back in.  The exhaustion in his very marrow.  His eyes followed her as she stood.

“I love you, Ellie.”

“I love you too.”  She smiled, small and tired and still red-eyed, but with her whole soul.  “And I think… I understand you more, too.”

She promised, “We’ll talk.”

[kentdreaming]

Ribs: A Roy Kent Story

Series: Ribs Pairing: Roy Kent x OC Summary: Natalia Forrest and Roy Kent grew up together, with both growing dealing with child stardom, they grew apart. But now, with Natalia being minority owner of AFC Richmond, will these two find each other again after all these years? A/N: I'm seeing a severe lack of Roy Kent fics across most platforms. I'm serving my boy JUSTICE. -Also I'm madly in love with @peterpparkrr ‘s Roy Kent story Banter, it's so incredibly written and I foam at the mouth for each update! || Series List ||

(i got this gif off of google-- can't find credit!!)

Chapter 1

“Right then,” She said with a satisfied smirk, “I believe everything is squared away.”

The man in front of her, Rupert Mannion, held a smile, something patronizing and sinister lurking beneath, “Pleasure doing business with you, my dear.”

“I’m sorry, but I do believe your fiance is the one who was doing business with me,” The raven haired woman responded, quickly turning to the much younger woman to his right and shaking her hand, “It’s been a pleasure, my darling. Do take care of that precious little girl of yours!”

And with that, the woman slung her bag over her shoulder, and spun around, her curly locks flipping over her shoulder, “Toodles!” she sang as she swayed out of the room.

“I can’t believe I just sold my own share of a football club to Talia fucking Forrest.” 

— One year Prior —

Normally, Natalia wasn’t a nervous person. Rather, she was the type of woman to make others nervous. Yet here she was, clicking her heels across the hard floor of AFC Richmond’s clubhouse, her heart hammering in her chest. Rebecca Welton had sold her some shares of AFC Richmond right after her divorce to royal dickhead, Rupert Manion, making her a minority owner of the club; and as much as Natalia loved football and Rebecca, she was nervous about running into someone in particular. 

Her wavy black hair fluffed out around her face, her thick black sunglasses hiding her green eyes. She glanced around her as she made her way towards Rebecca’s office, the hallways buzzing with excitement and gawking glances as she would pass. God, can this walk take any longer, she thought as she ascended the stairs to Ms. Welton’s office, Finally. With a deep breath, Natalia gripped the handle and walked in, offering a small knock as she opened the door. As she opened the door to her office she was greeted with a seemingly very flustered Rebecca in a plush robe, an always frazzled Higgins, and a face she hadn’t yet seen before. Rebecca stepped to the side and lit up when Natalia entered. “God your tits are amazing,” Natalia blurted, eyes going directly to Rebecca’s chest. The gentlemen both cleared their throats and seemed to look anywhere but her chest. “Right, sorry.” “Talia Forrest,” Natalia introduced, reaching out her sharply manicured hand out to the stranger, “minority owner, semi-successful child star turned rock enthusiast and entrepreneur, pleasure.” “Well hi there, I’m Ted Lasso, fresh face on this side o’ the pond,” the man named Ted greeted, his American accent startled Natalia for a moment. The warmth of his voice melting right into her heart creating a soft comfort to her. “Rebecca, you smuggled an American over here?” Talia laughed, a light jab at the two of them. Rebecca laughed nervously, eyes shifting toward the men and back to Talia. “I’m fucking with you, love,” Natalia soothed, “But I do think it’s high time for you chaps to be off, toodles!” She ushered the men out of the door, closing it behind them.

“So,” Natalia sighed, flopping back into the cushions, arms draping over the back of the couch, “I guess this is what all my money has gone to. This gorgeous office and this wardrobe?”

Rebecca’s cheeks flooded with embarrassed blush fiddling with the rack of terribly expensive gowns. Natalia clicked her tongue and got up from her spot on the couch and walked over to Rebecca. She reached up and held onto Rebecca’s face. “You look at me, you tall, strong, impeccable woman,” Natalia said sternly, “You are fit and worthy, these dresses are bloody well lucky to be hugging that gorgeous body of yours. Now let's find the one, yeah?” Rebecca let out a shaky breath and nodded her head, “Thank you.” She whispered, before shaking it off and standing a bit straighter. “Do you want a drink, love?” Natalia asked, making herself comfortable at the minibar in Rebecca’s office. 

“A glass of wine, please,” Rebecca nodded, holding onto a golden dress. After pouring herself a whiskey, she handed the wine glass over to Rebecca. “That’s a gorgeous gown, but she’s wearing you, love. We can do better than that, yeah?” “God, why is this so difficult?” Rebecca sighed, a soft whine underneath. “Honestly, woman,” Natalia groaned, rolling her head back. “You’re right, I’m sorry– It’s just–” Rebecca rambled, “It’s just that Rupert–” Natalia got up from her spot after slamming her drink, and stomped her way towards the taller blonde woman.

“Rupert is a right slimy cock, Rebecca. It’s about time you knew it,” Talia said forcefully. “You no longer get to let him dictate your life. This is your event, and you deserve to be the goddess that you are.” She began to shift through the dresses on her own. “Here,” Natalia said matter of fact, “This one will blow everyone away, plus it shows off those sexy arms of yours.” 

Rebecca held the gown up to her, admiring the fabric. A sigh of relief and an emptying of a wine glass, and Rebecca seemed to be a whole new woman. A curt nod and she placed the dress in a garment bag. “Right,” Rebecca smiled, “I actually called you here to ask if you would like to be my plus one to the charity gala tonight?” Natalia growled, flinging her head back in exasperation, “Rebecca, you know I don’t–” “Please, Nat,” Rebecca begged, “It’s for the children…” Nat curled an eyebrow and crossed her arms, “Rebecca…” “Nat, this is my first time doing this without Rupert, and I’m just so bloody nervous! Plus, you’ve been a minority owner, it’s about time you show your face around here.” “You know I don’t fuck with the press,” Nat responded firmly, her brows furrowed deep over her eyes. She softened after a moment, “But… I will go to support another incredible woman.” Rebecca’s eyes lit up and she squeezed the smaller woman into a head-popping hug. “Thank you,” Rebecca sighed. “Suppose I need to pick a dress for the night, then,” Natalia quipped while shooting her a pointed look. 

—

Later.

—

Cameras. So many fucking cameras were flashing, Natalia hated it. She stepped out of the car behind Rebecca, leaving her big sunglasses on. Her hair was styled to look even more wild than natural. She wore a forest green off-the-shoulder gown with a slit up the skirt that went all the way up to her hip. Her tattoos and scattering of freckles covered her pale skin. She made her way towards the red carpet, following Rebecca. As she made her way toward the line for photographs, Natalia was shouldered rather hard by another person walking by. “Oi–” “Watch it!” The two voices barked in unison. Green eyes locked with brown. Natalia could have sworn her heart leaped into her throat and then directly plummeted into her lower belly. The man that towered before her, straightened up a little more. His all black suit caused him to look even larger than he was. “Hi, Roy.” 

[kakashiislut]

Hey hey hey! Saw you wrote god of war stuff and came a running! I’d love to see Sindri, heimdall or Tyr (which ever you feel best at writing for) with a tall gaint reader. Sindri is just happy she likes him, heimdall is very upset he’s much shorter than her, Tyr just likes to look her in the eyes without breaking his neck.

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Tall girl *starts foaming at mouth* I love em tall and thick. And thick. Did I say tall and thick? Cause I love em like that. Both men and women. So thick and tall. Plzs give me to me. Plzs. Plzs.

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Warnings: Mostly fluff, like 99% fluff and 1% Nsfw, I love Sindri. He cute. Heimdall is mad all the time, Tyr is peaceful. Fem!reader, No proof read.

Authors Note: HEY IM DOING ALL OF EM! I Love em all and im excited to Write for Sindri the mostest. 😝🫘

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GiantFem!Reader W/ Sindri, Heimdall and Tyr!

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Sindri

“This is my boy”

You say very proudly with sindri perched on your shoulder, your arm wrapped around his legs to make sure he doesn’t fall.

He doesn’t care about the massive height difference, so happy that you love him. That’s all that matters.

“Baby, I cleaned myself, can we cuddle now?”

He gets so happy when he knows you’re super clean.

He doesn’t like holding your hand at first, he needs to be comfortable enough to be able to have flesh against his.

He’s a master at giving head.

There i said it.

He actually thinks he looks cute next to you, especially when he has to look up at you.

Will comfort you when you’re sometime insecure about how tall you are. Your head often bangs against stuff.

Taller then Kratos. Easily.

Brok teased him so much Sindri for once felt like fighting.

He smiles so hard when you find it amusing when he pulls random stuff out of his bag.

He often tries to put you in his bag.

I’m serious, he’s asked a couple of times.

Says you’re so cute he always wants you on hand to stare at.

Heimdall

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not even that tall”

He says, face full of embarrassment.

Absolutely hates it, he hates that you’re so much taller and stronger…and hotter and sexier then him.

He totally hates it so much.

He finds it good…good cause he can stare up at your tits as they hang above his face.

He gets so pissed off when you pat his head. Like so mad you might have to apologize later.

Of course you do it again. And again…and maybe once more. x2.

Finds it so sexy when you show off your legs, thinks that giants are actually so hot.

It’s bad at first, he needs to hide you and he physically fights himself a lot. You would often see him with his hair messed up and a scratched face.

At first you’re confused. Why is he hurting himself? He thought it was some sort of giant magic that made him fall in love with you. Odin hates giants. That’s why he hates them. But no…you’re so…you’re so good to him.

Constant battle with himself because he doesn’t wanna betray Odin…but it’s just love…how could love betray the all father?

Sneaks out to see you. Of course that’s a little hard so you might have to disguise yourself if you do Magic and come see him.

Tyr

“My neck doesn’t hurt when I stare into your eyes”

He’s so happy, he found a giant who has lots of interest in him.

You’re Just his height, maybe even a little taller on a good day.

“I love your eyes, so pretty”

You often compliment him and he can’t even hide his face, ‘cause you’re his height!!!

Becomes so happy when you offer him a bed in HIS size.

You guys snuggle with over sized blankets you made.

Every-time he’s over your place, he gets so happy. Everything is for giants. He never needs to struggle with anything small ever again with you.

Can fuck you properly.

Ya I said that.

He can do your hair without needing to hunch over and break his back.

You guys often train together and he gets so happy when he sees you pull off a move he does.

It always ends with you guys on top of each other, laughing about him beating you all the time.

He’s the god of war, come on! You’re gonna have to break more then a sweat to beat him.

He likes when you sit on his lap, but sometimes forgets you’re so tall when you get off.

Gets so genuinely confused and he just goes

“AH- oh wait nvm”

Gets so protective when someone stares at you wrong, he knows the Aesir hate giants, he can’t lose you.

[lostfirefly]

Maybe You're My Enemy (Ch.1)

As often happens in my life, this story was not supposed to have a continuation, but again something went wrong) This's a repost of Day 29 from Bugust Prompt, so that everyone doesn't get completely confused later or I'll delete it later from the list) English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist.

Masterlist is here

Description: You're the captain of the ship, and Buggy stole from you the map that you stole from him earlier.

Warnings: Fun, adventure, enemies to lovers vibes in the next chapters.

WC: 2225

The title is taken from "Enemy" by Charli XCX.

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The raucous tavern was packed to the brim with rowdy patrons, the air thick with the pungent aroma of spilled ale and the boisterous laughter of drunken pirates. You and your weathered crew had just returned from a successful plundering expedition, нщгк hold brimming with the spoils of their latest hunt.

"I told you everything would be great! You all deserve a break! I truly have the best crew! Here's to you guys!" You shouted loudly.

"Here's to you, Y/N!" Your crew shouted in unison, raising their glasses of drinks.

Eager to celebrate their triumph, your crew, the salty seadogs wrapped their calloused hands around glasses of foaming, amber liquid as they regaled each other with tales of their daring exploits on the high seas.

The din of clinking glasses, raucous singing, and riotous cheers echoed off the wooden walls, creating a cacophony that seemed to match the celebratory mood. Tankards were slammed down on the scarred tabletops, sending frothy splashes onto the floor, while burly men with wind-chapped faces slapped each other's backs heartily.

Amidst the revelry, you and your crew revelled in the spoils of your successful hunt, your hearts swelling with pride and your spirits high as you toasted to another triumphant voyage on the open waters.

"Who's our best captain?" Your crew shouted loudly. "Y/N!!"

"Come on, guys!" You burst out laughing. "Although yes, I'm the best! And the best thing is that we sto--" Your voice was drowned out by someone else's loud laughter. "That.. Fuck! That we stole another map that should lead us to even more treasure. Tomo---. Tomor--." You turned the scroll over in your hands. "Tomorrow we will gather in my cabin and plan everyth--- out. Fuck! Who's laughing?" You looked around and noticed several men in the corner.

In the corner, a group of scruffy-looking scallywags were engaged in a raucous game of dice, their hushed curses and raucous laughter mingling with the general din. 

"Okay." You downed your beer and walked over to the table. "Hey, you… You're at the table!" You wobbled slightly as you approached the group. "Could you stop laughing like crazy? We're celebrating."

"I don't give a shit what you're celebrating." A tall man, half-turned to you, rolled the dice. "Yeah, I won!"

"Listen, me and my crew…"

"Your crew? That bunch of idiots sitting by the bar?" The man turned to you, pointing at the bar.

"Oh, my God!" You wobbled slightly as you saw the big red nose and face painted with makeup. "Oh, wait, I know you! I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town. But apparently you're so inconspicuous that I don't even remember your name."

"Hey, honey, you're talking to the future king of the pirates." The clown crossed his legs and started tapping his fingers on the table. "And I'm Buggy, by the way. Who are you?"

"Y/N. The Captain of Cherry Blossom Pirates. And I'm worth a lot of money, unlike you, Buggy from Shells Town or wherever you are."

Buggy silently scanned you from head to toe. He noticed your crisp white shirt, cinched at the waist by a worn leather belt, gave way to well-fitted trousers tucked into sturdy boots. He looked at your eyes for a second and burst into laughter.

"Fuck! I'm so scared." Buggy started to mimic you. "Captain of the Cherry Blossom, and I'm worth a lot of money. I don't care who you a--" He noticed the scroll in your pocket. "What's this?"

"Nothing." You carefully lowered the scroll deeper into your pocket.

"That's the map!" Buggy pointed at the paper. "And more over, that's my map!"

"Does it have your name on it?" You shrugged. "That's my map, I stole it from some scatterbrain at the port."

"Hey! I'm not scatterbrain. I got distracted! Listen, strawberry queen. Give me the map back!" Buggy stood up from his chair and reached for your pants.

"Cherry, actually. I told you the name of my crew two minutes ago, idiot." You narrowed your eyes and slapped his hand.

"Give me back the fucking map!" Buggy was about to touch your thigh, but you grabbed his hand. "Ugh! You took my hand. I like that!"

You quickly pulled a knife out of your boot and held it to his throat. "Don't touch me, clown. I'll cut you into pieces."

"Oh, I'd like to see that too." Buggy winked at you and saw how your team got up from the table, slowly walking towards you, drawing daggers. "Okay, you know, cherry blossom or whatever your name is, I think things are getting tense.  And I think... I'm gonna get out of here." Buggy took your hand, kissed it and snapped his fingers at his team, abruptly leaving the bar.

You shrugged and, ending the evening, you returned to your ship. You decided to take a walk along the deck before going to sleep, at the same time checking that everything was in order, and that the guard shift was in their places. As you strode across the deck of the mighty galleon, your presence commanded the attention of all who laid eyes upon you.

"A quiet night tonight, huh, captain?" One of the crew members came up to you and handed you your favorite lemon tea.

"Yes." You took a sip. "Delicious. Well, everything is fine. I'm off to bed. We'll dock at the island in a few days, where I hope to find the treasures that this map points to." You patted your pocket with your hand.

As the golden rays of the morning sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the gently lapping waves of the tranquil island shore, you set out with a sense of eager anticipation. You split up with the team to get a better look at the island. The weathered, aged map you clutched in your hands had led you to this remote, secluded locale, its faded markings promising the potential discovery of long-lost treasure. With each step you took across the powdery white sand, your eyes scanned the lush, verdant landscape, searching intently for any sign or indication that would point you towards the elusive coordinates the map had indicated. The soft crunch of your footsteps was the only sound that broke the peaceful silence, as you made your way deeper into the island, ducking under the broad, hanging fronds of towering palm trees and pushing through the dense, tangled underbrush.

"Damn, I feel like someone's watching me." You looked around.

"What, Y/N? Your precious crew abandoned their captain?"

You heard Buggy's voice from behind you and turned to him.

"Oh, my God! What are you doing here?" You jumped in surprise, clutching the map in your hands.

"I came to take what's mine. My map and my treasure. And by the way. Thank you for bringing me here! You made my treasure hunt job easier." Buggy came closer to you. "I really had to follow you for a few days. You take so-o-o-o long to plan everything. I thought I'd get old."

"Oh, my God," You rolled your eyes, "are you so-o-o-o lazy that you can't even find your way around, and you just decided to follow a defenseless girl? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You're defenseless? Don't make me laugh, baby!"

"Don't call me that!" You barked. "Wait. Were you following me? How did I not notice?" You whispered quietly.

"You must have been so enchanted by my beauty that you couldn't think of anything else." Buggy took two big steps and pressed himself against you. "Wait." He put his finger to your lips. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" You mumbled.

"The sound of you losing." Buggy gave you a sharp peck on the lips, grabbed the map from your hands and ran away. "I told you it was my map, and I'll give it back! Bye, strawberry queen!!!"

"IT'S A CHERRY!!!" You shouted after him. "Fucking clown!! Stop!" You ran after Buggy, and seeing part of your crew, you signalled them to run after you.

As you raced after the fleeing figure, your heart pounding with exhilaration and anticipation, you finally caught up to him near a remote, overgrown area that according to the map to conceal a hidden trove of valuable treasure. Breathless, you watched as Buggy furtively began scouring the ground. His eyes were narrowed in intense concentration, darting back and forth as he searched for any signs or clues that might lead him to the elusive prize.

"Hey, you!" You shouted at Buggy. "Didn't your mother ever teach you that stealing from girls is bad?" You pulled the knife out of your boot.

"What?" Buggy came at you like a predator at its prey. "You want a piece of me? Come on, let's see what you got."

Your face, set in a determined scowl, gripped the hilt of your knife tightly, the metal glinting in the afternoon sun. Your lithe form coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation. The air was thick with tension, the sound of the crashing waves and cawing gulls providing a wild, primal backdrop. You and Buggy began to circle each other, your footsteps leaving imprints in the pristine white sand, each one trying to anticipate the other's next move.

You swung the dagger, but Buggy grabbed your wrist, squeezing your hand with each passing second, and then suddenly hooked your leg with his own, winked, threw you down on the sand and fell on you with all his weight.

"Listen, you haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet, and you’re already practically lying on me." You chuckled. "Let me go, fucking clown!!" You tried to kick him in the knee.

"Calm down, strawberry!"

"CHERRY, for heaven's sake!"

"You know," Buggy ran his finger over your cheek, "I've read about you since our first meeting and I don't understand why we need to fight."

"What? What are you talking aboyt?" You looked at Buggy with a surprised look.

"We are both smart, famous, amazing, fabolous and scary pirates."

"What? Are you afraid of losing the battle for fucking ego and dominance to a girl? Let me go!" You tried to jerk away, but he pressed you even harder to the ground.

"No, I'm just going to take what's rightfully mine and get off this fucking island." Buggy leaned closer to you and began to whisper in your ear. "But under good circumstances I would offer cooperation, Y/N. But we are not in good circumstances."

You noticed how your team jerked from their place to begin the attack. "Don't! I'm fine, guys!" You shifted your gaze to Buggy. "Give me at least one reason to cooperate with you, clown?"

"I'm handsome and funny, isn't that enough?" Buggy shrigged, sqeezing your hand.

"You're an idiot." You rolled your eyes. "Okay, listen! Let's do it this way. I agree to cooperate, theoretically, what next?"

"Well, for example, although I don't want to suggest it, for starters, we'll split the treasure. 50\50, okay?" Buggy lost in thoughts for a second. "Then we'll go to the nearest bar and discuss our plans. We can create a strong alliance, baby."

"An alliance? Well.. Sounds good. Let's try. Just let me go." You sighed and felt him release his grip.

Buggy helped you up and you both gave orders to your teams to start digging in the area indicated on the map.

As you and Buggy stood on the sun-drenched beach, watching intently as your respective crews began furiously digging into the golden sand, you couldn't help but steal occasional glances at your notorious pirate companion out of the corner of your eye. Buggy's typically animated and mischievous demeanor had been replaced by an uncharacteristic air of confidence and self-assurance, his muscular arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he observed the proceedings with an unwavering gaze. There was a distinct sense of certainty in his posture, a silent conviction that this treasure hunt would yield the coveted prize he sought. You couldn't help but be intrigued by this shift in Buggy's normally jovial persona - it was as if he knew something you did not, some secret that gave him an advantage over the situation at hand. The way he carried himself, with an almost regal bearing, suggested a deep-seated belief that victory was all but assured, that the chest of riches lay just beneath the sandy expanse, waiting to be unearthed and claimed as his own.

"There's nothing!" Your teams said in unison, digging a deep hole.

"What?" Your eyes widened. "No way! I definitely read the map. Here, look." You stood next to Buggy, pointing your finger at the map.

"Let me see." He picked it up. "Fuck. It's mine. Fre-e-aks." Buggy looked at his crew.

"Yes, Captian!"

"It's time to run!" Buggy chuckled.

"WHAT??" You squealed. "What do you mean, Buggy?"

"You read the map wrong! You miscalculated the coordinates." He winked at you, putting the map in his pocket. "Sorry, sometimes I like to do things right, but not today."

"What about the alliance? Did you deceive me?"

"I'm a rogue and a deceiver. But about the alliance." Buggy folded his hand, pointed his thumb at you and winked. "Maybe later, strawberry queen!" Buggy screamed, disappearing between the trees.

"THIS IS A CHERRY!!!"

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Chapter 1 Spoilers

Not 100% accurate. This is not a full translation.

Standing in front of me, blocking the men’s way and protecting me was一

???: “Mai.”

Mai: “Ah!”

Hideyoshi: “You can relax now.”

Mai: “Hideyoshi!”

I blinked my eyes in the blinding light, and Hideyoshi, covering me with his broad back, smiled over his shoulder.

(Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking about this, but I’m glad he’s okay.)

I felt a heat rising in my chest, seeing Hideyoshi’s figure in front of me.

Hideyoshi: “Mai, are you hurt?”

Mai: “I’m fine. You came right away.”

Hideyoshi: “I see. I’m glad I got here in time.”

He drew his sword from its scabbard as his gentle voice trailed off.

Hideyoshi: “I will destroy everything that threatens you.”

Hideyoshi: “No one, not even a single person, will touch my precious treasure.”

Hideyoshi: “Are you guys ready?”

Man 1: “You bastard, you’re gonna keep that woman all to yourself?”

Man 2: “Asshole, let’s cut him down.”

Even in the face of over ten bandits, he doesn’t flinch a bit.

Hideyoshi: “Mai, don’t leave my side.”

Mai: “Okay, got it.”

Man 3: “Tch. You flirt.”

The large man who said these words raised his sword and ran towards Hideyoshi, but一

Hideyoshi: “Ha!”

He parried the blade and punched the man’s throat.

Man 3: “Guh!”

As the man collapsed, foaming in the mouth, the surrounding bandits’ eyes widened in surprise.

Man 4: “How dare you harm our comrade!”

Hideyoshi: “Shut up. I asked you if you were ready for this.”

Hideyoshi: “I won’t give you any slack or mercy.”

The voice was so chilling that it frightened everyone.

Man 4: “Damn it!”

Hideyoshi grabbed the spear of the guy who attacked him and took it from him by force.

Men: “Gghhh...!”

He swung the spear vigorously, knocking down several men.

The bandits, with bloodshot eyes, raise their swords, but Hideyoshi mercilessly subdued them one by one.

(Wow.)

(I know he’s strong, but this fighting style...)

The memory of when he went to rescue the captured Nobunaga flashed through my mind.

The way he defeated his enemies with his fierce swordsmanship and twisted them with overwhelming power reminded me of a demon god.

Man: “Damn it. Treasure, you say? It’s just a woman.”

Hideyoshi: “Just a woman, huh?”

Hideyoshi raised his blade, looking down at the grunting man.

(Stop.)

Mai: “Wait, Hideyoshi!”

Hideyoshi: “...........”

I yelled, and the tip of his blade stopped just before it reached the man.

Mai: “Enough...I think that’s enough.”

Hideyoshi: “You’re right.”

Hideyoshi sighed and swung his sword, flicking away the blood.

Hideyoshi: “Mai.”

Hideyoshi turned to me with a grim expression on his face.

Hideyoshi: “Are you really not injured? Are you unharmed?”

Mai: “Yeah, not even a scratch. What about you?”

Hideyoshi: “Yeah, I’m fine too.”

His eyes narrowed in relief.

(I finally reached Hideyoshi.)

The dazzling smile on his face captivated me.

Hideyoshi: “Come here, Mai.”

Mai: “Okay!”

As I nodded, he spread his arms wide open.

Wanting and yearning for his touch, I stepped closer to him.

Hideyoshi: “Sorry.”

Mai: “Huh?”

For some reason, his expression stiffened.

Hideyoshi: “My hands are covered in blood. If I hug you, I’ll stain you.”

(Oh, I see. Because you faced those bandits.)

Hideyoshi: "It's unfortunate, but I'll have to wait until we get back to hold you in my arms."

Hideyoshi: "Well, saving the fun for later isn't a bad idea either."

Mai: "Hideyoshi..."

My heart felt heavy hearing him mumble these words like he was ashamed of himself.

Mai: "Please don't say those lonely things."

Hideyoshi: “What?”

(There’s no need to feel ashamed.)

As he tried to take another step and turn his back on me, I embraced him tightly, refusing to let go.

Hideyoshi: “No, you’ll get dirty.”

Mai: “It’s okay! I’m fine.”

Hideyoshi writhed out of my embrace, but I tightened my arms around him.

I could tell from his breathing that he was confused.

(Don’t worry about it.)

Mai: “Thank you for protecting me. You were so dependable and cool.”

Hideyoshi: “Mai.”

Mai: “You once said you didn’t want me to see your beastly nature, but I love that side of yours.”

Hideyoshi: “...........”

Mai: “I mean it.”

Hideyoshi: “Yeah, I know.”

Hideyoshi: “You always remind me of that. I can never match up to you.”

That night.

I was invited to the hall for a war council of the Oda army.

Mai: "Excuse me, it's Mai."

As I stepped into the hall, I saw Nobunaga seated in the front, with Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide on either side.

Masamune and Ieyasu were also present, sitting in the back, while Mitsunari was next to someone I didn't know.

(Who the heck is that guy?)

(Anyway, this one's an impressive gathering. I feel so out of place.)

Mai: "Um, is it okay for me to be here?"

Nobunaga: "It's fine. You deserve to be here since you've done us a great service in the last war."

Mitsuhide: "I'm surprised that a carefree lass like you could stop the Oda-Uesugi-Takeda conflict orchestrated by Kennyo."

Mai: "Is that a compliment?"

Masamune: "Mai, long time no see. I see you came back today."

Ieyasu: "Hideyoshi was so anxious about your return that he couldn't relax."

Mai: "Huh? Really?"

Mitsunari: "He's right. Lord Hideyoshi was going back and forth in the hallway so many times I was afraid he'd get dizzy!"

(I see. He's been waiting for me.)

Hideyoshi: "Hey, guys, don't say unnecessary things."

Hideyoshi: "Ah, Mai, sit down. Let's start the war council."

Masamune: "No need to be embarrassed now, Hideyoshi."

Mitsuhide: "We don't mind if you two share a passionate embrace."

Hideyoshi: "There's no way I would do that in public."

(I'm so relieved to see everyone safe and sound in person like this.)

Mai: "Have a safe trip, Hideyoshi."

Hideyoshi: "Yeah, I'm off."

He patted my head and lightly kissed my lips, but一

(Huh?)

I heard a faint sound.

Hideyoshi: "What?"

Mai: "What's wrong?"

For some reason, he was holding his lips.

Hideyoshi: "For a moment, I feel like I'm being pushed away."

(Being pushed away? I didn't feel anything like that.)

Mai: "Maybe it was static electricity."

Hideyoshi: "Static electricity?"

Mai: "It's a phenomenon that tends to occur in dry seasons. More importantly, are you okay?"

I stood on tiptoe to get a better look at his lips, and he gave me a gentle smile.

Hideyoshi: "If nothing happened to you, it's fine."

Hideyoshi: "Maybe it's just my imagination. Well, I'm off this time."

Hideyoshi waved his hand as if nothing had happened and left.

As I watched him walk away, I tilted my head in confusion.

(I guess it was static electricity, after all.)

(Okay, it's done!)

Mai: "Sorry to keep you both waiting. It's done."

Mitsunari: "Thank you so much, Lady Mai."

Mai: "I think I got the stitches right, but could you please check?"

Ieyasu: "No need. I trust your skills."

When Ieyasu took the kimono I held out to him一

Ieyasu: "!"

(Ieyasu?)

Ieyasu furrowed his eyebrows and dropped the kimono the moment my fingertips touched his.

Ieyasu: "What was that?"

Mai: "What was what?"

Ieyasu: "You were fine?"

(What is he talking about?)

Confused, I reached to pick up the fallen kimono at Ieyasu's feet.

Mitsunari: "Lady Mai, let me pick it up."

Mitsunari also reached out his hand to pick up the kimono and as our fingertips touched一

Mitsunari: "----!"

Startled, Mitsunari quickly withdrew his hand, surprised by something.

(Mitsunari too?)

Mai: "Um, what in the world is going on?"

Mitsunari: "You didn't feel anything?"

Mitsunari: "I felt a tingling sensation at the tips of my fingers."

Ieyasu: "You too?"

(So, Ieyasu is the same.)

Mai: "Don't tell me there's still a needle left in it."

I hurriedly spread out the kimono again and thoroughly checked every corner.

Ieyasu: "Did you find anything?"

Mai: "Nothing."

I looked again and found nothing that looked like it.

Ieyasu: "Forget it. If there's nothing there, then it's fine."

Ieyasu: "Maybe I was just a little tired."

Mitsunari: "Maybe it's the same for me."

(I suppose so.)

Both of them didn't seem to feel anything this time when they picked up their kimonos.

Ieyasu: "See you later. I'll come back when my kimono gets torn again."

Mitsunari: "Lady Mai, I'll leave you then."

Mai: "Okay. Take care, guys."

As I watched Ieyasu and Mitsunari leave, I suddenly remembered a similar feeling.

(I think the same thing happened a while ago.)

Mai: "Yeah, I can't remember."

➟ Chapter 2 Spoilers

[meetmyothersouls]

Darling Death

A collaboration with @sufferingstarlight

Warnings: nightmares (in detail), passionate sex/love making, underworld scene, violence, not proofread

Chapter 9 - Day 10

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

I'm the bathroom, getting ready for something, work maybe? I'm not sure, I can't quite tell. What day is it? What time is it? I pick up my toothbrush, then my toothpaste and squeeze out a splat of reddish glossy paste. I put it in my mouth. It's spicy. Cinnamon flavored? I'm scrubbing my teeth in small deliberate circles, the way the dentist tells you to brush when you're a little kid, but you always ignore because it's easier to just brush side to side or up and down. But I'm really getting in there. I feel the bristles between my teeth, poking my gums and clearing debris. This must be a new toothbrush even though I don't remember replacing it. Timothee enters the bathroom and I smile as his shirtless form presses up against my back. There's something odd about him. Different. He plasters a dark grin onto his face before he turns off the light. I feel myself smiling in the darkness, waiting for him to turn the light back on but he never does. I reach behind me and flip the switch. He's gone. Huh. I turn back around horrified at what I see in the mirror. What would normally be whitish toothpasty foam is thick, red, viscous liquid dribbling from my mouth, puddling on the counter and dripping down the cabinets. Blood. The drips hit the floor and they sound like the ticking of a clock. Tick-tock-tick-tock. I pull the toothbrush from my mouth, noticing the handle isn't that of a toothbrush at all. It's my razor. I drop it, my mouth falls open as loose pieces of flesh hang inside my-

I gasped, jolting upright in my bed. My body soaked with sweat, my heart pounding. I leaned over in my bed, attempting to catch my breath while I check the time on my phone. 3:13 AM. Day ten.

"Those nightmares are something else," Timothee said, startling me.

"Fucking hell, Timothee, you scared the shit out of me! And what are you talking about? How do you know what I'm dreaming about?"

Timothee sat on the foot of my bed, apparently waiting for me to wake up. He turned around and crawled up the expanse of my mattress, and once he arrived next to me, took one of his large, freezing cold hands and placed it on my forehead.

"Gods, you're on fire, y/n," he said, raking his fingers through my damp hair, pulling it out of my face. His temperature and closeness automatically cooling me down and relaxing me. "And I think you're forgetting: your boyfriend is also your personal reaper. I know everything about you. And now that you're closer to your supposed death date, I can see your dreams or in this case, nightmares. And that one was fucked up."

Boyfriend.

My stomach somersaulted in the best way possible, until I registered what he said.

"Wait. Wait. You can see the dreams of the people you reap?"

He sighed, like it was more of a burden than a cool ability. "Yeah, I can. You see, when a person gets closer and closer to death, they begin having dreams or nightmares, part of my job is the analyze these dreams...or nightmares and take note of what they contain."

Interested, I sit up and cross my legs on my mattress, like an a child being told a fairytale for the first time. I prod him for more answers. "What's so important about the dreams? Who do you report these findings to?"

Timothee sighed again, laying his back flat on my mattress. The moonlight shone on his face in a way that made him look more like an angel than a Grim Reaper and it was in that moment that I realized how tired he looked. Tired eyes. The circles that were always there appeared a bit darker. But I thought reapers didn't need sleep? He definitely looked like he could use a nap, but I didn't voice my discovery.

"It's important," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts, "because it is said that when one is close to death, the psychology of their dreams begin to change."

I think back to the nightmare I just had. It was definitely different than anything I'd ever experienced before and the day before I had that dream where-

"Like the one where your teeth fell out," Timothee said, as if reading my mind.

"Okayy, the dream thing is weird, and I don't like it."

Timothee gave me a smile that didn't quite reach is eyes. There was something off about him, something distant that I couldn't quite place.

"And so, do you have a boss that you present these findings to?" I ask, changing the subject. I cuddled into his side, resting my head on his chest, sliding a hand under his black t-shirt.

"I do, actually. Death. Death is my boss. And they expect daily reports. If you ever can't find me, that's where I am."

"Huh," I said, wondering when the last time he went to visit his boss. He hadn't left my side much lately, watching over me to make sure my demise wasn't premature...among other things. "Does your boss know about your plan to keep me alive?"

Timothee was silent for a moment, a long one. Until finally, he turned on his side, facing me in my bed. "Don't worry about things like that."

"Why not?"

Timothee grinned, this time it reached his eyes, they crinkled adorably at the corners. He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine and opened his mouth slightly, as if he was preparing for a kiss, but not quite ready to give it away. "You ask so-" he stopped, finally pressing a small gentle kiss to my lips "-so many questions, y/n, darling."

"I'm a curious person," I admitted. "Speaking of questions. I do have another."

"Mmm?" Timothee mumbled, readying himself for another kiss. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. I could feel him ready for me underneath my pajama shorts. I leaned down to kiss him, not quite deepening it yet.

"How many others have you been with?" I ask once we break away from each other.

Timothee arched an eyebrow, but took the question in, really giving it thought. "I suppose there were others," he said, his hands moved, resting on my hips. I'm not sure what kind of answer I was expecting from him and I'm not sure whether or not I'm pleased with the one he gave me. "In a previous lifetime. I cannot remember their names or their faces. But I'd like to think that they were all you."

"Me?" I say, unable to stop myself.

"You," he says. "In previous lifetimes." And maybe, in that moment he saw that I wasn't overly satisfied with his answer or maybe he was still thinking, but he kept talking. "I'm not sure, y/n. I'm not sure what my life consisted of before this. Before being a reaper. There are vague details I can pull here and there. Like my name. I know I was called Timothee, but it wasn't until I saw you that I was able to recollect even that. And then there is one glaring thing about you. The thing about you that transcends through time and space. The thing that...even if were presented to me in a different era of time, in a different body, through different eyes that is unmistakably you."

"What is it?" I whispered, barely audible.

Gracefully and effortlessly, he flipped me onto my back, hovering over me. He pulled his shirt over his head. I lifted my back off the mattress so he could remove mine, then my shorts, leaving me completely naked under him. At this point, we'd had many sexual encounters and we'd had sex dozens of times. But this felt different. A different energy. A different charge. This felt important. Life changing.

"Your soul," Timothee said, looking so deeply into my eyes, I thought for sure he'd be able to see directly into it. "You could live a thousand lives and die a thousand times, but your soul would stay the same. Your soul lives on whether you want it to or not. And if I've ever fallen in love with anyone before you...before right now. It was because it was your soul that was in them to begin with."

Even though I searched for them, there were no words to communicate the love I felt for him in that moment. I wrapped my fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his face to mine. My lips found his and we kissed, and much like the energy, there was something different about this kiss. This was kiss was like stepping into the ocean at night. Like dipping your feet into the ice-cold water, not seeing but feeling when the waves pulled back. The feeling of the sand shifting underneath your feet. Like you're about to fall but your completely stationary.

Then, Timothee pulled away, looking back at me like a sudden realization had dawned on him. He was already breathless, his mouth hanging open slightly. He leaned down, pressing his face into my neck and breathed deep. He left sweet, small kisses along my neck until he reached my lips again. His eyes found mine before he spoke.

"I can no longer stop myself from loving you," he whispered, his lips grazing mine with each word.

"Then don't."

He was inside of me the moment the words left my lips. And it was with such gentle, loving care that he filled me. Kissing me with each thrust in and out. Our bodies, rubbing against each other like finest satin. There was a tenderness in his touch. Like we had all the time in the world. He ran his hand along my thigh, then my stomach, caressed my breast, squeezing gently enough to make me moan his name and tell him how much I loved him. There wasn't one inch of skin that he left unkissed. His arms wrapped around my body, my legs falling open wider at his touch. It was as if he didn't want to just fuck me, but fully merge into me. Become one with me.

He said my name over and over again, whispered in my ear, against my skin as he kissed me everywhere.

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

Countless times, both of us losing track of how many times it was actually said. Not caring about the time, even as the sun came up and painted my walls a golden hue. He made love until we both reached a simultaneous orgasm and then again and again until our bodies stuck together and glistened with a mixture of sweat, spit and come.

"I love you, Timothee."

"I love you, too, Y/n."

Timothee's POV

I'm weak and drifting in and out of worlds by the time we're both sated of all our sexual desires. I'd been resisting the pull to the Underworld for a few days now, refusing to update Death on the status of y/n's demise.

She'd started having the nightmares. It wasn't a shock. It was the natural cycle of things. I was just hoping it wouldn't start so soon. Just another reminder of what was to come. There were three more days until I'd have to do what I'd never done before. Stop Death from claiming her. It was unprecedented. I'd never heard of anyone interfering in such a way as this.

I resisted the pull until I knew she's fully asleep, then I let it happen. I'm sucked into the Underworld, like a swirling vortex of nothingness I forgot how much I hated. When I arrive, it's not graceful. I fall on my ass, skidding across the stoney ground that is Death's lair.

"Thirteen," a booming, earth shattering voice calls.

I step up to Death, thankful I put all my clothes back on before the pull became too strong.

"Miss me?" I joke, immediately regretting my decision.

I heard the painful gust of wind before I felt it pierce my chest and blow me across Death's lair. My back slammed against the back wall and held me there as he climbed off of his throne. I groan, barely able to breath as Death took slow agonizing steps towards me. His arm raised in the air, holding me against the wall. At that point, my legs pathetically and involuntarily kick, desperately attempting to gain both traction and airflow.

Finally, he let go, the invisible grip instantly loosening. I gasped for air that's almost immediately ripped from my lungs again as he slammed his arm down, throwing me back onto the ground. The rock cracked as my body hits it and Death crouched down making menacing eye contact with me. I stay laying on the ground like a scared puppy, weak from many days in the Upperworld, all the sex and being thrown around like a rag doll.

"Tell me Thirteen," Death sneers, "are you having fun up there?"

"I gotta say, boss, it's better than this bullshit."

Death let out a dark chuckle, one that shook even me to my very core.

"And the girl."

"Y/n," I can't help but correct.

Death gracefully stands, pacing the floor in front of me, I stay on the ground.

"Right, yes. I can't help but notice you've missed the last-" Death checks an imaginary watch "three check ins. You're usually so prompt, so in check with yourself, Thirteen. You haven't lost focus of the goal here, have you?"

I must take a second too long to respond, because his fist is wrapped around the collar of my shirt, I'm in the air and he's in my face before I've opened my mouth. "Don't think I don't know what's going on. You have a goal. And one goal only. See out the mortal's death and bring me the soul. Unless you need me to do it for you. Hmm?"

"NO! No! I've got it under control, sir. Trust me."

"Perhaps I should reassign you. Ten can take the girl and you can take over Ten's assignment."

"Sir, that won't be necessary. I've got her dream report right here...if I may."

He nodded and I retrieved the list of most recent dreams y/n had been having. Death yanked it out of my hand and I watched as his dark eyes skimmed the paper.

"Very well," he said, seemingly satisfied. He dropped me and I fall yet again with an ugly thud. "You are to stay in the Underworld tonight. Report back to your assignment tomorrow."

I do my best at hiding my disappointment, knowing how upset y/n will be to find me gone when she wakes up. I turned to exit Death's lair and decided to add one more thing.

"She's different, you know."

His dark eyes snap up at me and for second I begun to think I had made a grave mistake. For a second I wished I could pop back into the upperworld.

"She's marked. She's got a Death Mark."

I watched as his face dropped, temporarily shocked by my words, but he quickly masked it. "A soul is a soul, Thirteen. And her soul is on the docket."

I turned my sore body, wanting desperately to get back into y/n's bed. Grim don't need sleep, but I had never so desperately felt the need to try.

"You've a lot at stake, Thirteen. A lot to lose. Remember that." I heard him say as I walked out.

"Death doesn't make exceptions."

This has been a sufferingsouls production

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 4

Liber Liberi vel Lapidis Lazuli

Adumbratio Kabbalae Aegyptiorum sub figurâ VII

VI

1. Thou wast a priestess, O my God, among the Druids; and we knew the powers of the oak.

2. We made us a temple of stones in the shape of the Universe, even as thou didst wear openly and I concealed.

3. There we performed many wonderful things by midnight.

4. By the waning moon did we work.

5. Over the plain came the atrocious cry of wolves.

6. We answered; we hunted with the pack.

7. We came even unto the new Chapel and Thou didst bear away the Holy Graal beneath Thy Druid vestments.

8. Secretly and by stealth did we drink of the informing sacrament.

9. Then a terrible disease seized upon the folk of the grey land; and we rejoiced.

10. O my God, disguise Thy glory!

11. Come as a thief, and let us steal away the Sacraments!

12. In our groves, in our cloistral cells, in our honeycomb of happiness, let us drink, let us drink!

13. It is the wine that tinges everything with the true tincture of infallible gold.

14. There are deep secrets in these songs. It is not enough to hear the bird; to enjoy song he must be the bird.

15. I am the bird, and Thou art my song, O my glorious galloping God!

16. Thou reinest in the stars; thou drivest the constellations seven abreast through the circus of Nothingness.

17. Thou Gladiator God!

18. I play upon mine harp; Thou fightest the beasts and the flames.

19. Thou takest Thy joy in the music, and I in the fighting.

20. Thou and I are beloved of the Emperor.

21. See! he has summoned us to the Imperial dais.

The night falls; it is a great orgy of worship and bliss.

22. The night falls like a spangled cloak from the shoulders of a prince upon a slave.

23. He rises a free man!

24. Cast thou, O prophet, the cloak upon these slaves!

25. A great night, and scarce fires therein; but freedom for the slave that its glory shall encompass.

26. So also I went down into the great sad city.

27. There dead Messalina bartered her crown for poison from the dead Locusta; there stood Caligula, and smote the seas of forgetfulness.

28. Who wast Thou, O Caesar, that Thou knewest God in an horse?

29. For lo! we beheld the White Horse of the Saxon engraven upon the earth; and we beheld the Horses of the Sea that flame about the old grey land, and the foam from their nostrils enlightens us!

30. Ah! but I love thee, God!

31. Thou art like a moon upon the ice-world.

32. Thou art like the dawn of the utmost snows upon the burnt-up flats of the tiger’s land.

33. By silence and by speech do I worship Thee.

34. But all is in vain.

35. Only Thy silence and Thy speech that worship me avail.

36. Wail, O ye folk of the grey land, for we have drunk your wine, and left ye but the bitter dregs.

37. Yet from these we will distil ye a liquor beyond the nectar of the Gods.

38. There is value in our tincture for a world of Spice and gold.

39. For our red powder of projection is beyond all possibilities.

40. There are few men; there are enough.

41. We shall be full of cup-bearers, and the wine is not stinted.

42. O dear my God! what a feast Thou hast provided.

43. Behold the lights and the flowers and the maidens!

44. Taste of the wines and the cates and the splendid meats!

45. Breathe in the perfumes and the clouds of little gods like wood-nymphs that inhabit the nostrils!

46. Feel with your whole body the glorious smoothness of the marble coolth and the generous warmth of the sun and the slaves!

47. Let the Invisible inform all the devouring Light of its disruptive vigour!

48. Yea! all the world is split apart, as an old grey tree by the lightning!

49. Come, O ye gods, and let us feast.

50. Thou, O my darling, O my ceaseless Sparrow-God, my delight, my desire, my deceiver, come Thou and chirp at my right hand!

51. This was the tale of the memory of Al A’in the priest; yea, of Al A��in the priest

(Years favorite is with bold as always) and I can’t even explain this days choice haha

[beangirl73047]

PJO/HOO/TOA Fic Recs

Note: I consider Son of Sea Foam to be the greatest pjo fic I've ever read, so even if none other on this list interest you, I think you should try that one.

Son of Sea Foam

“She’ll never claim me,” he whispered. Silena shook her head, eyes wild as she looked around for anyone who could be watching.

“My mother doesn’t remember half of her children as it is,” she said with a note of bitterness. “If you do something to impress her, it won’t matter. Return the bolt in her name. She’ll claim you if you act the part. If you stay unclaimed then they'll figure out what you really are," she said, squeezing his hands tightly. Percy's heart sped up.

"I - I don't know the first thing about Aphrodite-"

"My mother was born of sea foam," Silena cut him off. "And if you're really who I think you are... you are the sea. You can pull this off," she said and touched his cheek. "Get the bolt. Survive," she said. Percy swallowed.

"What if I can't act the part?" He asked. Silena's expression went blank for a moment. Slowly, she slipped off her bracelet and placed it in his hands.

"If you're going to be one of us... you better learn."

Or

AU where Percy has to hide the fact he's a Big Three kid otherwise he'll be killed on the spot. Unfortunately for him, unclaimed kids tend to raise the most suspicion... but he might have found a loophole in the form of Aphrodite.

how to debate with your fellow olympians in a professional manner (a guide by apollo)

Apollo returns to Olympus. Meg McCaffrey's fate is decided.

Gods' Eye View - Book 1: The Hidden Oracle

I tried to keep my face impassive as my little brother hurtled through the air.

It did not pay to show weakness while in the company of other gods. Passion, yes- but not weakness. That’s why Father had called a council meeting, after all. To show us Apollo’s trials, everything my twin would have to suffer through for having dared to oppose him. It was his way of reinforcing his iron grip on us, of showing he still had power, after the debacles and humiliation from the Second Titan War and the Second Giants War - particularly the latter, as Zeus did more to hinder the efforts to combat Gaea than to help. If we’d all done what he’d commanded, we’d be destroyed by now.

Zeus would never admit to that. Not out loud. But he knows we’re all thinking it.

So naturally, my little brother is his scapegoat. ------------

Zeus calls the Council together to watch Apollo's punishment.

No Light in Sight

Apollo has been missing for the past 2000 years

 

"Who's that?" Percy says pointing at the statue in front of him.

Annabeth looks at the statue before answering, "That's Lord Apollo, Patron God of Camp Half-Blood"

The Patron God? "Why haven't we seen him then?" He questions, because surely the patron god the camp would at least make an appearance

"Thats because he went missing 2000 years ago"

Used To Hang My Head Low~ Now I Hear It Loud (We Gon' Burn The Whole House Down)

Day 16: Nymphs and Negligence

Primordials were defeated by titans. Titans were defeated by gods. Why does everyone assume it's the demigods who will destroy Zeus? Everyone overlooks the nature spirits.

They'll learn.

 

Or: Grover notices a few things about Zeus and has some things to say about it. Unfortunately for Zeus, he talks to Apollo.

True Love Is Taking Turns Lying (and Believing)

day 2: growing pains. Saw this and all I could think of was a) Taking Turns by the crane wives and b) REVOLUTION AU OH YEAHH BABEYYYYY

Soooooo here we have Apollo suffering, as we all love, and his family slowly seeing the Real Him (tm)- and maaaaaybe preparing for a revolution.

Maybe.

(Okay yeah. Some of them are definately preparing for a revolution the more they learn about Apollo.)

(*cough* *cough* artemis *cough* *cough*)

One Light, Higher Than The Sun~ Invisible to Some (Until It's Time)

Day 9: The Hour Past Midnight

Send Me Anywhere~ Take Me Out (I'm The Well They're Gonna Drag You Down)

Day 12: Revenge served cold

Was i NOT supposed to write the beginning of another revolution fic in response to that prompt???? well i dont care either way. It's a revolution fic :)

Sunrise

At 10,000 years of age, Apollo falls to Chaos. With the last of his strength, he sends his memories through the fabric of Space-Time.

At 1 day of age, Apollo refuses to let the story be the same as last time.

Vi Va La Revolution.

 

SkyFall: Season 1, Arc 1- The Rising Sun.

In which Apollo lives through his early life, forming alliances and rewriting mythological history while striving to keep his siblings and family safe from threats outside and within their home. Will he succeed? Or will Fate prevail once more?

One thing is for sure, Apollo remembers.

And he will take his vengeance.

Trials of Apollo - New Prophecy

The Oracles have all be restored, Apollo has gotten is immortality back. He appears at camp to visit Meg and his kids, he finds that fate is not yet done with him.

Hello Ocean, My Old Friend

Poseidon keeps getting offerings from Percy’s baby sister. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about this small child vying for his attention…At the very least he would keep Zeus from blowing up whenever her prayers interrupted council meetings.

Or

Rick Riordan gave us Estelle Blofis and I am thrilled. She's going to get Poseidon to attend family events even if every god on Olympus kills her.

Lester Papadopoulus and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Lester wakes up in an alleyway with several broken bones, a mysterious voice ringing in his head, and only a New York Junior's Driver's License as a clue to who he was. Overall, not the best way to start a Quest.

But hey, at least there's this random 12 year old girl to keep him company.

Family doesn't end in blood

Three times Amphitrite saw Percy help sea creatures, Plus the one time Percy needed help

travel youtuber nico + some guy he's dating

nico has a travel youtube blog, and also a crush/boyfriend who tags along sometimes

"You must make your own choice.": Reconstructing Apollo's Journey within Riordan's Narrative

“I was the worst of the gods,” he says, dropping all pretenses as he sings of his failures to the myrmekes. Because I loved too much. Because I felt guilty. Because I kept trying to do more. Because I kept changing my mind.

These are unforgivable sins for a god. That’s what Apollo and all of his divine siblings have been taught. That’s what they’ve all, in time, learned to believe. Good people don’t survive on Olympus.

And Apollo is, above all, a survivor.

So Apollo doesn’t want to believe he’s a good person.

This is incredibly uncharacteristic of me, he makes sure to specify every time he does something kind, every time he finds himself unable to hide his shame or guilt or doubt, to hide how much he cares, well past the point where we start realizing that it is, in fact, perfectly characteristic of him.

the jackson files

Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Does anyone know who the fuck Percy Jackson is???

Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Whomst?

Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Check rachel dares insta story

Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd k

Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Okay somebody find out who this kid is right damn now.

-

Rachel Elizabeth Dare posts a video of Percy on her instagram story. it all just spirals from there.

Mother of Heroes

Hestia is the goddess of offerings. She is the goddess of Home. She is the goddess of flame. She is the eldest child of the titans.

She is tired of hearing the demigods beg for acknowledgement, and dying without it.

So they're hers now.

Dona Eis Requiem

Really. Apollo would need to have words with the Oracle of Delphi. The one time it has him recite a prophecy instead of Rachel, and it predicts the downfall of Zeus. Couldn't it at least wait until he was not in the presence of his father?

Secrets of the Sun

“No, that kid is too similar to me… way too similar... Almost like he’s…” Apollo’s eyes widened.

“Like he’s you from the future?” Persephone finished.

Dionysus asked incredulously, “You don’t seriously think that right? There’s no way you would ever dare to look like that!”

--------------------------

This is literally just a Trials of Apollo reading the books fic. Hope you enjoy!

 

[Discontinued until further notice]

way down we go

Apollo slipped off the ledge and fell into Chaos.

Down and down he went, the void swallowing up all that he is, he was, and he could be. Darkness. Upwards he rose, gold swirling around him, all that could have been.

Apollo tumbled out of his bed with a yelp, the fall to the floor far bigger than he was expecting it to be. The soft carpet nearly gave him a concussion, his mortal body feeling weak and fragile after that fall into Chaos…

Wait. After his fall?

golden eyes, ocean eyes

There was a moment between birth and ascending where a newborn god was vulnerable, the touch of pure immortality still grabbing a hold of them. Immortality, after all, was not a thing to be created or destroyed. It was the concept of unchanging permanence, and one could not be born or dying permanently, forever.

And those who are not gods cannot see a god’s true form without irreparable harm.

The only thing Apollo ever saw was his sister’s true form.

AKA

Blind!Apollo AU, where this changes everything and nothing at all

Make Hay While the Sun Shines

At the end of the Tower of Nero, the big fight with python ends with him losing. But maybe not, because Apollo wakes up to find himself, in his Lester Papadopulous mortal form... in southern California, 2006?!?!?!?! Self-confidence zapped after his failure with the nightmare snake, with no friends or enemies/murderous exes in sight, currently in unknown territory due to recent character development with a different perspective on life, and about half a decade of history regressed. He plans to lie low, and wait this out, while no imminent danger or uncertain perilous fates surround him. This is the past, before his trials, before any of the prophecies meant anything. He should be able to stay of trouble. It's a foolproof plan. Completely. With no flaws. Surely, surely, this time, nothing will go wrong.

He should've remembered what Percy Jackson said about jinxing himself.

[aita-blorbos]

(OCs)

AITA for (accidentally) drowning a good 1/4 of my guests during my wedding and therefore starting a war?

Greetings!! I (20,000, female at the time but bigender now) had this happen to me a good 10 thousand years ago, but I’ve been conflicted for all those years because while I know I’m at least partially an asshole, because of all those that died, I’m not sure if it was justified or not. All that happened happened, and there’s nothing I can do to take back anything now, but I need second opinions on the matter that aren’t my biased children and servants.

So I, a fairy living in the mountains, fell in love with the water dragon, a king and god of the waters. Therefore, we were making wedding plans and such, like any couple would, and decided to invite as many people as possible. Politics kinda sucked at the time and tensions were high, so this was the best solution to make sure no one was offended if they didn’t get invited. After all, my husband, the god of water, getting married was pretty much event of the year, ya know? In the end, we invited like a good 1600 people (gods, immortals, and others) and 960 of those invited came.

Anyways, the day comes where we were going to get married. Everything was perfect. Plenty of people came (and others that got the invitation but refused did so politely), the food was great, everyone was dressed well, etc.

Me and my husband were doing our vows. And then he got murdered right in front of me.

Whatever strong ass magic my husband’s murderers had, it worked. My husband started to dissolve into sea foam right into my hands. Literally as we were doing the vows. Thinking quickly, because in my world once a god dies all their power is pretty much all up for grabs as it gets released into the air (and therefore, the motive for my husband’s killers was to take advantage of him being unaware and take his power), I immediately absorbed as much of my husband’s power as I could so no one else could get it. And I was. So furious. I had wanted to get married to the love of my life. But now he was dead. And as I looked up, I recognized my husband’s killers (a group of about 100 something) as other gods we had good relationships with.

A combination of my pure fury and my new very uncontrollable water powers was unleashed upon the murderers. Unfortunately, I was so blinded and honed in on those murders that I kinda didn’t think at all about the other guests, who were all evacuating.

That’s how I (not purposefully but still) drowned 1/4 of my guests and therefore started a war that lasted for a good few centuries.

AITA?