#and i have the feeling that when she said “i made a therapist quit because of what i wrote” i imagine the therapist was just

[rainbowgod666]

Also wednesday would make rounds here on tumblr

I think one thing that a lot of Addams Family fans forget is that for the family, goth wasn’t about being gloomy and sad or bitter and cynical at all. Morticia was always gazing out at rainy days and declaring, “how beautiful a day it is!” or saying that “black is so much more cheerful!” because they found joy in their dark aesthetic. Wednesday was curious and sharp-minded and very clearly exercised and expressed her personal sense of power and self through things like her interest in weaponry and true crime - in the original series and comics, she was always dancing and playing with her brother. Edgy Wednesday didn’t happen until the 90s reboot, and well, it was the 90s. Gloomy grunge and artful sadness were in at the time. And let’s not even talk about Gomez, who was so full of life and love for his family that he’d often break into song or dip Morticia in the kitchen for an old-fashioned kiss. The Addams worked so well because they were healthy, happy, loving and goth. They were a perfect example of indulging in an aesthetic without letting it become toxic or consuming their lives.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Mama, I’m in love with a criminal 2

Tags: Sukuna x fem!Reader, prisoner!Sukuna, dead dove, descriptions of violence including murder and child neglect, dark romance trope

Synopsis: Sukuna is in prison because of you. He’s ordered to undergo weekly counseling sessions. Talking to his counselor about you, it's apparent that his obsession with you is quite concerning.

An: You guys ate up session one 🤭 Hopefully session two can live up to the hype.

Session one. | Session two.

It was criminal how the counselor had actually been looking forward to his next session with Sukuna. They had ended on such a cliff hanger with their last sessions, talking about your first word to Sukuna in sixth grade — “please.”

The guards shuffled Sukuna in. His massive stature still clad in a blue jumpsuit as he plopped onto the couch without a care in the world. “Miss me, doc?” Sukuna asked with a crooked grin.

The guards slammed the door shut, locking and barricading it with a metal rod — as if it’d stop a monster like Sukuna.

He was in a max security prison. While the prison didn’t necessarily want the counselor to get hurt, if Sukuna was ever tempted to run… Well… they’d just take their chances on hiring a new counselor.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” The counselor noted as he fumbled with his pen. He was still nervous to be counseling the troubled individual, but he felt a weird sense of security as well. It seemed all of Sukuna’s victims had stemmed from an obsession with you, so in theory, the counselor should have nothing to worry about.

Sukuna glared at the counselor as he fumbled with his pen. He hated the clicking sound, but he gritted his teeth to bare it. He was in a good mood today. There’s nothing he enjoyed more than talking about you, and while he didn’t believe in this counseling bullshit, he enjoyed reminiscing about your past with him. “Yeah, whatever.” He shrugged as he slumped his body against the couch.

“We ended off last week with mouse saying her first word to you.” The counselor said, completely skipping complimentary words. He wanted to get right back in to the nitty gritty.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a feline smile as he kicked his feet up on the table next to him. “Her voice was unlike anything I had heard before. It was just barely a whisper, weak from not being used enough.”

“What made her talk to you?” The counselor asked, completely enthralled in Sukuna’s story.

This time, Sukuna let out a small laugh, remembering the memory as if it had happened yesterday and not several years ago. “Mouse use to wear her hair in these pigtail braids when we were younger. I wanted her to talk to me so desperately that I finally grabbed ahold of her braids, and I pulled on them, telling her that she had to say something in order for me to stop.”

“So, you hurt her?”

Sukuna’s eyes cut towards the therapist as the air in the room went stale. His feline grin was no more as he was now scowling at the man across the room from him. “I wouldn’t consider a bit of hair pulling to be hurtful. Mouse didn’t either.” His tone was low, nearly a growl. He clearly didn’t take the accusation too lightly.

He had been convicted of heinous crimes, and he had also been accused of a few more that they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him with. Sukuna drew the line when it came to you though. He’d be the monster they drew him out to he in the press — never to you though.

The counselor gulped harshly, reminding himself to not get too comfortable with Sukuna. He shifted in his seat a bit, but he said nothing to try to discount what the criminal was saying.

“As I was saying,” Sukuna hissed lowly as he got back in his comfortable position. “She was cute, whining to try to get me to stop. It was hard not to, especially when she gave me that pout. When she finally whispered the word ‘please’, I remember feeling like a fire had lit inside me. She was so vulnerable. She needed me.”

“I let go of her hair, and I made sure to braid it back for her since it had gotten a bit messy from my incessant pulling. Her hair was always so soft, and she smelled so sweet.” He spoke slowly, reliving each moment of you two in sixth grade together. His heart ached for you.

“Did she start talking to you then?” The counselor prompted, wanting for Sukuna to continue.

“Sure, if one word answers count as talking.” He let out a dry laugh as he looked up at the ceiling. His jaw line and neck were well defined and sharp — the looks of a true predator. “Mouse was quiet, reserved. She didn’t need words to convey her feelings or thoughts. I could usually tell what she was thinking before she could.”

“I immediately noticed when there was a change in her demeanor.” Sukuna’s voice shifted to a darker tone. The light left his eyes as he remembered a particularly troubling incident between you and him.

“A change..?”

“She didn’t have to say anything. There wasn’t any marks, but I could just read her like a book. She came to school one morning, and she looked like she hadn’t slept at all. She tried to give me that polite smile she gave everyone else, but I wasn’t buyin’ it. I knew something was up.”

The counselor leaned forward, furrowing his eyebrows as he listened closely. He wondered what was going on with you and how this transpired into Sukuna becoming deadly for you. “What did you do..?”

Sukuna grunted as he adjusted his position on the couch. “It was the first time I followed her home. Her house was nice, but it was anything but happy inside. I heard her dad yellin’ inside. Her mom was screaming right back at him. They went at it for far too long. I knew it wasn’t a good place for mouse.”

“So, I tapped on her window until I caught her attention over the screaming match.” His gaze lowered to the ground as he had an almost thoughtful smile on his face. “Mouse was scared — an easily frightened thing. I convinced her to crawl out her window with me that night. It’d be the last night she slept in that house alone.”

The counselor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion from Sukuna’s words. “How did that play out with her parents?”

The prisoner gave a cocky grin with a small shrug. “Her dad was most time not there or too drunk to notice. Her mom felt so guilty about the fighting that she never said anything to mouse. Every night I came to her window, and she either crawled out with me, or I crawled in to be with her.”

The counselor silently pondered for a moment. It seemed like the unhealthy attachment between you and Sukuna wasn’t one-sided. It seemed like you both needed each other like you needed air.

He took a deep breath as he was reminded of one of the warrants for Sukuna’s arrest. His first murder victim was allegedly your father, but Sukuna wasn’t necessarily convicted of it. They hadn’t had enough evidence, especially since you and your mom adamantly refused to give any statements to police.

“You’re thinkin’ about her old man, huh?” Sukuna asked as if he could read the counselor’s mind. He propped his elbow up on his knee, and he held his jaw with his hand.

“Did you do it? Kill him, I mean?” The counselor asked, even though he wasn’t sure that he wanted the answer to that question.

“Is this protected underneath patient confidentiality?” Sukuna asked. Sly bastard.

“Since you don’t pose a current threat to yourself or the community,” His counselor let out a breath of defeat, “yes, it is.”

Sukuna’s grin widened, and he relaxed back into the couch. He looked more tense when he talked about your troubled days than when he talked about the literal murders he had committed.

“Mouse was asleep on me late one summer night. If I remember right, we were teenagers by then. We were in her bed, and it was probably around the early hours of the morning when her dad came stumbling in. He kept making a fuss, trying to wake up the whole goddamn house.” He started on his story, and the counselor didn’t dare to interrupt.

“He walked into her room, and he started yelling at me to get the fuck out of his house. I told him that if he woke up mouse, I’d kick his fucking teeth in.” Sukuna started to laugh. His skin felt like it was buzzing with energy from remembering that night.

“Mouse started to stir, and when she woke up, that fucker tried to drag me out of her bed. He tried to take me away from her. When I got ahold of him, I dragged him outside of the house where mouse and her mom wouldn’t hear him scream. I made good on my promise.”

The counselor furrowed his eyebrows slightly as his stomach turned. He didn’t necessarily want to ask for more details, but his morbid curiosity got the better of him. “You kicked his teeth in… How did that lead to him dying?”

Sukuna laughed heartily at the therapist’s question. “You really don’t know a thing, do you?” He asked rhetorically. “I made that bastard bite down on a tree branch that had fallen on the ground in their backyard. He was so drunk that it was barely a fight, and when he bit down, I used my foot and-“

“Okay-! Okay! I got the image now…” The counselor spoke up quickly, waving his hands out in front of him. Sukuna got a real kick out of the counselor’s suddenly squeamish behavior.

“Ryomen! Get your ass out here! Your time is up!” A guard yelled loudly from the other side of the door, using his fist to loudly pound on the metal.

Sukuna was still laughing as he stood up off the couch. His massive frame easily took up the room when he was on his feet — the true embodiment of intimidating. “See ya next week, doc. Maybe I’ll finally get to tell ya how I made mouse mine.”

With that, Sukuna left the counselor’s office.

Tags: @catladythoughts @pinky0328 @coldluminarykoala @lemonlimecrystal-blog @san-it-is-i-guess @kunasthiast @nonamevenus @ecliipzed @jup1tersuccubus @gojodickbig @totallygyomeiswife @gremlinartstudio @tojislittleprincesss @jaybirdluvr73 @emyyy007 @b3bybunny @unofficialsapphire @thequeenofcurses @canecomplex

[paradiseprincesss]

the boy is mine | jonathan crane

masterlist

yeah so i wrote this in literally record timing because the music video to the boy is mine is so jonathan crane and his girl coded. i'd like to think i'm keeping u guys fed with all my fics i hope u like !!!

summary: you’re set on doing anything to make that boy yours, and the plan you curated is absolutely purrrfect.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), bondage/tying up, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, stalking, obsessive behaviour, therapist/patient relationship at one point lol

“perfect.” you whisper to yourself as you poured the last drop of the glittery, pink liquid into the small vile, swirling it around as you popped a cork into the top.

you smiled proudly as you sat on the kitchen floor of your apartment, holding up the vile to get a good look at it under the moonlight. it was fool proof — he’d for sure be yours after you forced him to drink this.

some would say you were a little unhinged, but you preferred the term creative. you were a little obsessed with your old therapist, doctor jonathan crane. you started seeing him when you stumbled across his pictures online, and you knew you had to have him. you booked your first session with him roughly nine months ago, and he was there for you every step of the way.

you didn’t actually need therapy (well…), but you still booked sessions with him because he was yours. it was meant to be. you couldn't unsee it. during your first ever session with him, you made sure to put on your cutest, most feminine and dainty mini dress, paired with some matching high heels. you even did your hair and makeup with precision. jonathan didn’t show it on his face, but when you sat there in that leather chair across from him for the first time, his heart started to beat a million miles a minute.

you were jaw-dropping. he couldn’t believe someone could actually possess such beauty, and though he tried to stay professional, it was proving to be quite difficult. every time you spoke, every time you smiled at him, every time you did absolutely anything — he would become more and more infatuated with you.

“i just wish he didn’t leave me, you know?” you say softly, feigning innocence, “it’s been so hard without a man to take care of me.”

jonathan clenched his jaw silently, he couldn’t believe that a man would be stupid enough to break-up with someone like you. be professional, he reminded himself.

“understandably so,” he said clinically, “i can only imagine how difficult it would be to have a relationship like that end so abruptly.”

“it was so difficult,” you say, your eyes watering, “but, i think i’m slowly starting to move on.”

of course, such "ex-boyfriend" did not exist. this was all part of your elaborate act to make him think you were an innocent, naive girl who was heartbroken and needed someone to save her. that someone being him, of course.

he was made for somebody like you.

you only had seven sessions between the two of you before jonathan abruptly reassigned you to his colleague, doctor webber. she wasn’t anything like doctor crane — she didn’t understand you the way that he did.

good things come to those who wait, but patience wasn’t your thing.

“i’m sorry,” jonathan doctor crane said to you, “as much as i want to continue to be there for you and your journey of growth, i believe that my colleague would be better suited to your…needs.”

“what are you talking about, doctor crane?” you asked, trying to to hide the desperation in your voice.

“i have another patient i must attend to,” he says flatly, informing you that your session had come to an end, “but i wish you all the best.”

and with that, he sent you to see doctor webber. of course, you were heartbroken. how could your soulmate do that to you? but jonathan wasn’t doing it because he didn’t want to see you — it was quite the opposite, actually. he knew that feeling this way about his patient was so very wrong, and if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

really, he did this for you.

as you placed your little love concoction on the kitchen counter, you turned on your tv. jonathan was supposed to be doing a segment with the mayor of gotham tonight about the crime rates in the city, and what him and his team at arkham asylum were doing to solve the issue. as his face appeared on tv, you sighed to yourself. he was so handsome in his suit and tie — and those sexy little glasses?

meow.

the chilly gust of wind made you shiver for a moment, but your latex bodysuit kept you warm enough — well, not really. with your little cat ear headband, you toss your hair over your shoulders as you quietly make your way into the silent home. your black pumps were surprisingly silent against the wood floors, and you crept into the living room where a woman sat on the couch watching tv.

you went undetected as she completely missed your presence. stealthily, you creep behind her until suddenly, you yanked her by her hair. she screamed loudly, and your hand immediately went up to her mouth to clasp down on it; you were getting really good at this.

“don’t scream,” you whisper, “i just came here to tell you to stay away from my man.”

slowly, you remove your hand and she looks back at you with sheer terror, “wh-who’s your man?” she asked with fear laced in her voice.

you hated this bitch — she was one of jonathans patients. there was nothing going on between them, you knew that (plus you would’ve murdered her if there was!), but you had spent the last few weeks…"cleaning up the streets."

these ratty bitches had to go; any woman who was his patient or in his life at all had to go. you even dressed the part with your sexy little cat costume and all. you know what they say — in the eternal game of cat and mouse, there are no winners, only survivors.

“doctor jonathan crane,” you said dreamily, but your tone turned sinister within seconds, “and if you ever go see him again, i will find you, trust me. i've already found you once, and you don't want me to come prowling back around.”

the woman nodded frantically, and you went on your merry way. this was the last one, you were certain. you’d even made a list of all the women to threaten so that you could make sure they would stay away from your man. finally, you made your way home and started to wind down from all the break-ins you’d been making recently. it was hard work chasing down all these…mice.

jonathan noticed that his belongings were going missing here and there over the last few months, and he knew something strange was going on. he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but something was off.

first, little things such as his favourite pen (yes, he has a favourite pen) went missing. then, a few patient files would seemingly disappear along with some sticky notes he had stuck on his desk the day prior. he didn’t think too much of it until one of his credit cards went missing from his wallet — but there weren't any fraudulent charges made.

he even continued to monitor his bank account and freeze his card, but no charges were ever made on it regardless. the last straw was when his spare house key went missing. even for a man as smart as jonathan, he could not figure out who was doing this for the life of him.

you were still attending your regular sessions with doctor webber, but you deliberately booked your appointments on days you knew jonathan was working. you knew you’d run into him either on your way in or way out, and you also knew he wasn’t that booked up anymore since most of his clientele went…missing.

as you said your farewell to doctor webber, you noticed jonathan walking out of his office. he noticed you immediately, giving you a soft smile as you turned to close the door to doctor webbers office. he said your name softly, causing you to almost choke on your own words as you clutched his house keys behind your back.

“doctor crane,” you say softly, “hey.”

“just jonathan is fine,” he said, but he internally scolded himself for saying that, “how have you been?”

“great,” you say sweetly, “doctor webber is…great.”

“that’s wonderful to hear,” he says, “it was nice seeing you again. take care.”

you two parted ways, and once jonathan was back at his apartment — he was to refrain himself from calling you. god, you looked so good today. with those little dresses of yours and good grief, those sexy, little heels you always paired them with. he grabbed himself a glass of whiskey, neat, and took a swig as he thought about you.

why did you have to be on his mind so much, and dear god, why did you have to be so fucking beautiful?

with a frustrated sigh, he looked at his front door, thinking about his keys that suddenly went missing just a week prior. was he overthinking things? was he just imagining it? did he lose his own keys and forget?

he was a psychiatrist for gods sake, why was he driving himself crazy over this? with so many questions and no answers, he made his way to his bathroom as he flicked his kitchen lights off.

the cold water ran from the bathroom sink as he splashed it on his face after removing his glasses, and he looked at himself in the mirror to get a grip. his pale, icy, blue eyes bore into his own reflection, and-

what was that?

he turned around swiftly, turning the tap off, watching as something, no — someone’s perfectly manicured hand ghosted over the edge of his bathroom doorframe.

he couldn’t see anything — the kitchen light was turned off, and the only thing turned on was his dim bathroom light. the master of fear himself felt a little fearful in this moment as he watched the dainty, feminine hand retract and move back into the shadows and he could've sworn he saw...cat ears?

jonathan had to blink a few times to make sure that he hadn’t spilled a vile of his own fear toxin somewhere and that he wasn’t just hallucinating off of it.

hesitantly, he pushed open his bathroom door only to be met with the darkness of his kitchen. his breath hitched as he flicked on the kitchen lights, but he was met with an empty, quiet space. his eyes quickly darted to the front door, but it was locked shut.

but if the door was locked shut, what did he just see? who did he just see? was the scarecrow himself starting to succumb to silly, little, irrational fears? before his mind could start to wander anymore, he heard a familiar sound.

a certain, distinct, and awfully familiar sound of high heels clicking against the wood flooring — and it was coming right from his bedroom. jonathan went over to his bedroom, swinging the door open unsure of what he might see, only to be met with a sight that made him feel weak in the knees.

you were propped up on his bed, in a latex body suit and high heels, along with cat ears to complete your rather sexy costume. you batted your eyelashes at him innocently, and bit your lip as you showed him the rope in your hands.

“how did you…” he whispered, watching you bite your lip as he trailed off.

“doctor,” you purred, “let’s get intertwined.”

“what the fuck…” he whispered once more, watching you as if in a mesmerized trance.

jonathan couldn’t lie — as much as he should have been terrified and calling the cops, he was awfully turned on right now. jesus christ, that latex cat costume that left absolutely nothing to the imagination? yeah, he was hard the moment he saw you.

“i know it’s simply meant to be.” you say softly, and as if his mind could not control his body, he was making his way over to you on his bed.

“um, what-“

“shh,” you hush him, suddenly grabbing him as you swiftly tie a knot around his wrists, “you don’t need to speak, baby boy.”

in mere seconds you had the scarecrow tied up on his own bed, restrained as you looked down at him. jonathan sat there looking up at you — yes, you were hot but you were clearly also insane.

to be fair, so was he.

he didn't bother trying to get himself out of the ropes. he knew that if he tried to struggle you'd most definitely do something not so pleasant to him. also, if he was being honest — this was hot. like, really hot.

"i just need you to do me a favour, baby boy," you giggle, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring once more, "drink this for me, and know that if you refuse, you won't live to see another day."

you held up a vile of pink, shimmery liquid. jonathan looked at you with a raised brow, and hesitantly nodded.

"...i'll drink it if you answer some questions that i have." he says, trying to bargain with you.

"fine," you shrug, "but make it quick."

"alright, first of all, how did you get in here?" he asked.

"easy, i crawled in through your window. next." you say in an awfully innocent voice.

"are you the one that's been taking my stuff?" he asks, and you nod.

"of course, i needed your stuff for my collection." you say whimsically, biting your lip at the thought of your homemade jonathan crane shrine.

in your apartment, you had a wall dedicated to him. it had cut outs of him, printed pictures, his belongings, his address, photos of him when he was younger — the list just goes on. all just regular, boring, stalker stuff, really.

"no more questions," you huff, "drink up, baby boy."

"what is it?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

"an at-home love potion. i'm going to untie you for this — and if you even attempt to run, i will slice your heart in two." you say with an adorable smile.

jonathan doesn't offer a response, but rather opts out for a simple nod. you slowly untie his wrists, handing him the pink, glittery liquid in the vile. you watch him in awe as he closes his eyes and takes it like a shot, smiling to yourself as you realize that he's finally going to be all yours.

this little concoction that you had whipped up was the real deal — you'd even tested it on other men to see if it did what it was intended to do. it worked on them, bringing these men to their knees for you, but it's not like you really had any trouble doing that without a love potion, anyway.

after jonathan drinks it all, he looks back at you blankly. unbeknownst to you, when you were popping the cork off of the potion, he sneakily grabbed a vile of his fear toxin that was stashed by the foot of his bed — just in case you tried to actually murder him.

his plan was to immediately throw the vile at you and watch you succumb to your fears, but if he was being honest, he wanted to see what this shitty little "love potion" could do. he was a man of science, after all.

"i don't feel anything," he said after a moment, "looks like your potion didn't work after all-"

you cut him off with a small giggle, "you don't feel any different?"

"no."

"i've tested it, i know it works," you giggled, "that means if you don't feel any different from before, then you must already love me-"

suddenly, he lunged at you, making you scramble as you tried to fight back. however, he was much stronger than you, making it physically impossible to overpower him. after struggling for a good minute, he had you tied down on the bed like you had him just moments before.

"you're sick in the head," he says, but you could've sworn you saw him smirking, "you're real fucking twisted, you know that? i could call the cops and have you arrested right now."

"do it," you teased, "i dare you to, baby boy."

jonathan suddenly grabbed you by the neck, "what was that?"

you had you refrain from smiling as he choked you softly, feeling yourself get wet from just a second of his touch. you knew exactly what he wanted now.

"sorry," you corrected, "i dare you, sir."

"there we go." he says as he lets go of your throat.

he rummages through his bedside drawer and pulls out some of his own rope, causing your mind to spin at the idea of what he was going to do to you. you didn't run when he untied your wrists initially, but he took a few moments to tie both your wrists up to his bedposts, essentially tying you up so you couldn't move your hands at all.

"oh," you say with a teasing voice, "i see where this is going."

he smirks at you, admiring how sexy you look all tied up in his bed, with your costume and all. he takes his phone out and shamelessly takes a picture with the flash on, and you could feel that you were leaking your arousal down his bedsheets by now.

it seemed that your love potion didn't work on him because, well, he was already obsessed with you.

of course he was — but jonathan was known for his good work ethic. he only gave you up as a patient because it was only a matter of time before he would give in and most likely fuck you on the couch in his office. he just didn't know it was mutual at the time. if he did, well — that's a story for another day.

"maybe i should punish you," he smirks, making his way over to you on the bed, "you've been so disobedient."

"m'sorry, sir," you whimper, "you just make me crazy."

"i know," he cooed condescendingly, "but i think i can fix that, darling."

"you can?"

"i most definitely can," he says lowly, "it might take a few sessions to cure you, but i have a method i think might work on you. i'm gonna fuck you 'till you can't think anymore, no more thoughts after that. sound good?"

you nodded frantically, "mhm, yes. please, fuck yes."

he smirked at you, his hands reaching towards the top of your bodysuit. slowly, he reached his hands behind and unzipped it, slipping it off of you slowly.

"i like the cat costume," he chuckles lowly, "the ears are a cute touch."

you blushed, biting your lip as he slipped you right out of your latex bodysuit. obviously, you wore nothing underneath — not even panties. jonathan groaned at the sight because seriously, no panties? with your wrists tied up and unable to touch him, you were getting pent up real fast.

"i wanna touch you," you whined, "please."

he smirked, "if only you didn't break into my apartment like a stray."

before you could even formulate a proper response, he was crawling between your legs, spreading them out as he got onto his stomach. without warning, he licked a fat stripe up your already soaking cunt, latching his mouth onto your pussy. your back arched at the feeling, and he continued to lap you up.

"f-fuck, jon," you breathed, "feels s-so good."

"i know." he said cooly against your core, lapping up your arousal continuously as you moaned over and over again.

it was sinful how skilled he was with his tongue — it hadn't even been a full five minutes and you were already on the brink of creaming all over his face. he didn't give you any mercy as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, and your wrists were burning against the rope as you tugged on them.

god, the things you would do to run your hands through his soft, dark, and now tousled hair.

"nnnghh," you whimper, "i'm, ah- gon' cum!"

the coil in your stomach snapped as your release hit you like a freight train, making you scream his name as he made you cum. you were left a panting mess, and he finally released the grip he had on your thighs. after wiping his pink, plump lips along with his chin which glistened with your wetness, he smiled softly at you.

"taste s'good," he commented, "you look so pretty like this, darling. tied up and helpless."

"n-need you," you whisper, "baby, please."

this time, he didn't correct you and demand you call him "sir." maybe it was the heat of the moment or maybe it was the realization that he had finally met a woman who was as unhinged as he was. deep down, he was really loving the idea.

he started to undo his belt, making sure to keep his eyes locked on yours, teasing you as he undid his belt at a painfully slow pace. finally, after what felt like an eternity (it maybe thirty seconds at most), his cock sprung out of his pants, hitting his stomach lightly. it was long, veiny, and thick. how was that supposed to fit inside of you? surely it would split you open.

"cat got your tongue?" he teased as he unbuttoned his white button-down, stroking his cock a few times as your hips bucked into nothing.

"uh-huh." you whispered in awe, biting your lip at the thought of how his size was going to stretch you beyond your limits.

with a low chuckle, he lined his thick cock up with your begging hole, pushing in slowly as you felt him stretch your cunt out fully. he was so big and so long, the feeling of him just halfway inside of you was enough to have you pulling against the ropes again. the way the rope was digging into your wrists was degrading but undeniably hot. it was like a silent reminder of how little control you actually had over this whole situation.

"s-so full!" you squeaked, but he kept pushing himself into your tight, warm hole.

"s'okay, you can take it. and if you can't, i'll make you take it." he groaned, finally bottoming out in you.

you were stuffed to the brim with his cock and slowly, he started to thrust his length in and out of you. desperately, you let out a feverish moan. your breaths were short but heavy, and you were a fucked out, cockdrunk mess for him as he picked up his pace.

"you're so fucking tight, my god," he moaned, "i should've fucked you sooner."

"make me cum," you plead desperately, "f-fuck, yes, feels so good, jonathan!"

"yeah? you wanna cum?" he cooed as he continued to fuck your sopping pussy, "you wanna cum on this cock?"

"fuck, yes." you pleaded.

his cock was pressed snugly up against your cervix, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. he continued to stretch your little hole out, ruthlessly pounding his thick cock into you more and more as you started to see stars. your walls started to flutter around him, letting him know that you were close without having to say a word.

"close already, darling?" he asked, "are you gonna cum for me again, hm?"

"y-yes!" you moaned, "ohmygod- i'm gonna-"

your words started to melt together at one point as you got lost in the pleasure of your high. soon enough, your soaking cunt was tightening up around his fat cock, and a clear liquid poured out from you.

of course — you were so turned on by the way he was screwing you that you'd squirted all over his bedsheets.

"oh, darling," he moaned, "that was so fucking sexy, jesus."

"j-jonathan, baby," you begged, "i-i can't-"

"you can, i promise," he groaned, "i'm close."

"p-please." you started to beg incoherently, the overstimulation making your head spin as your cunt fluttered around his cock again.

he continued to ram your tight pussy until his thrusts started to become sloppier and sloppier, and you could tell that he was close to the edge.

"cum i-inside," you begged him, "i need to be filled, fuck-"

"okay, okay," he panted as his he gave you a few more deep, harsh thrusts, 'm'gonna fill you up, darling."

you nodded, your head spinning as he finally came inside with a low groan, painting your walls white as he stuffed you with his warm seed. he stilled, staying inside of your warm hole for just a little longer to ensure you got every last bit of his cum, before pulling out his semi-hard cock.

he bit his lip as he watched his cum drip out of you (the sight of him biting his lip almost made you cum again), and he reached over to untie your wrists as you slumped down against the pillows. he laughed softly, pulling you into him as you instinctively cuddled into his arms.

he pulled the cat ear headband off your head, which you forgot you still had on, and tossed them to the side.

"i guess i'm going to have a hard time getting rid of you, huh? stalker." he joked, sighing as he took in all the details of your pretty face.

"you won't be able to get rid of me," you say softly, "i'm obsessed with you."

"good, i don't want you around anyone but me." he says, playing with your hair gently.

"i know," you giggle, "but stupid love potion was useless. i should've known you were already in love with me."

the both of you laughed softly, snuggled up in his bed as he told you all about what he did on the side for work — and all about his plans to fear gas gotham city.

jonathan trusted you with this because he knew there wasn't a line in existence that you wouldn't cross for him.

@ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a @xanaxiii

@seaamonster @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem

@futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @aprilsfrog05 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[velaryqns]

Could you do a House fanfic where after failing at treating a patient, House takes his stress and anger out on the reader? She then considers quitting being a doctor. House is confronted by Dr. Cuddy and his team, causing him to go comfort and apologize to the girl.

Uncontrolled Anger

Gregory House x Female Reader (I took it romantically for fun)

Universe: House MD

Summary: Maybe you should have known better than to question House about his feelings.

Warnings: Patient death, mentions of addictions, angst

You sat silently, your eyes on the dead body in front of you. You had watched as the team fought to help the man, all for it to fail after multiple misdiagnoses and wrong solutions. You, being a doctor, knew what they were going through. You’d gone through it a few times with your patients.

Sighing, you rest a hand on Taub’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. He returned it, then watched you go as you made your way out of the room and eventually wandered to House’s office. When you reached the glass door with his name on it, you stood silently for a moment with your arms crossed. He had one hand in a fist by the side of his head and the other filling out paperwork.

You brought your hand down to the handle, allowing yourself into his office. You took a few paces, then turned your attention to the big yellow chair by his bookshelf. You lowered yourself into the chair, watching him silently for a moment.

“How are you?” You asked gently, not wanting to annoy him while he was in the middle of scribbling on the sheet.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say,” he muttered, still keeping his gaze away from you.

“You could at least say that you’re okay,” you said to him, tilting your head slightly as you shook it. You knew he handled emotions horribly, in ways that often required you to intervene, “Greg—“

He slammed the pen down and looked at you. And you could see why he had been avoiding your gaze to begin with, “You’re not a therapist. In fact, you’re presently the reason I could end up needing one. I just want some peace and quiet because excuse me for not being Doctor Y/N Y/L/N.”

“What —“ You cut yourself off, truly hurt by his words. His blue eyes held no remorse for what he said, and you quickly stood and left the room. You bumped into Chase, but ignored him entirely as you made your way down the hall with the intention of going to the elevator.

As you stood silently in the elevator, waiting to go down to the main floor to leave for the evening, you processed why you continued to try and support the man that. You stared at the metal doors, jaw clenched as you finalized your decision.

You didn’t want to work in the same building as someone like Greg House. Cuddy wouldn’t fire him, he’s too good.

Once you reached the main floor, you went to the clinic, seeing if there was any help you could offer and breathing a sigh of relief when you were able to step in. You dove into working throughout the clinic, waiting patiently to be able to talk to Cuddy about what was going on.

You filed patients in and out of the room you were using, only stopping for nurses to clean and sterilize everything between each patient. However, your consistent flow was ruined by Foreman's sudden intrusion into the room. You stared at him.

"Do you need something? Because I would like to treat my patients," you informed him.

"Just checking on you," he shrugged, tucking his hands in his pants pocket and leaning against the door, further preventing you from leaving the room, let alone treating your patients.

"I am fine," you muttered, tossing a file on the counter and crossing your arms. You leaned against the counter, "I am tired of him behaving like a child; I never thought I'd consider leaving my position because Cuddy refuses to fire House."

"I can talk to her for you,"

"Not worth it," you shook your head, "Now can you please go?"

Foreman was reluctant for a moment, but then nodded his head and walked out of the room. Your next patient came in, and you returned to your job.

Little did you know, Foreman was taking matters into his own hands despite your protests. The team liked you, there was no denying it, so of course he turned to Cuddy because of what you'd said. It was hard to believe, especially when you typically had a strong relationship with House, even when he was being childish.

House was in his office when Cuddy went search for him, her hands on her hips. He stared blankly upon her arrival, a frown on his face as he waited for what she had to say.

"You're going to make her quit,"

"Her?" House asked, shaking his head and shrugging as he waited for an elaboration. He looked toward the office door to see the team staring at him with disapproving looks, which caused him to sigh and roll his eyes, "Y/n's choices are not my fault."

“You’re pathetic,” Cuddy muttered. House shrugged. To him, there was no point in denying it. Cuddy clenched her jaw, “I thought you liked her!”

“She’s ear grating, like you,” Lisa frowned and House shrugged once more.

“I can’t lose another good doctor because of your antics, House,”

She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving House to his own thoughts.

It was early in the evening, you’d showered and done some dishes, when there was a knock on your door. You were less than enthusiastic to open it, especially after peering through the hole to see House on the other side. He leaned on his cane lazily, a bag of what was clearly takeout food in his other hand as he looked down at you.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing food,” he held the back up to emphasize his point.

You rolled your eyes and moved to slam the door in his face, but it made contact with his cane instead. House let himself in, limping toward your couch and plopping on it. The smell of the Chinese takeout hit your nose, making your mouth water as you pushed the door shut the rest of the way and turned to face the man on your couch.

“What do you want?” You repeated, less than enthused and lacking the emotion you usually had when speaking to House.

“Not a lot of hospitals would be willing to take you,” he spoke matter of factly. He dug into the brown paper bag, pulling out bulls of food and beginning to eat out of his own, “Foreman struggled to get a new job when he had to leave—“

“Foreman was accused of malpractice, and caught,” you reminded House.

“Malpractice is a common occurrence in this hospital, you think any other Dean would hire someone who’s worked with me? You’re poorly mistaken, Dollface,”

“You’re a piece of shit,” you spat, shaking your head and storming into the kitchen, “You know that?”

“I just call em like I see em,”

“If you don’t have anything genuine to say, then leave,”

There was silence, and then you heard your couch creak as he got up. Good, he got the point. That was what you thought until you heard his cane moving across the linoleum floor of your kitchen. You turned to see Greg House standing over you, and you gulped.

“What do you expect me to do here?” He questioned.

“Oh I don’t know, apologize?” You countered, side stepping him to grab a glass from a cupboard, “I was helping you. Making sure you were okay and not going to do something stupid after losing a patient — but apparently that wasn’t good enough, hm?”

“Y/n—“

“No, all I wanted to do was help you,” you faced him, “everybody in that damned hospital does what they can to help you, and this is how you repay us? That’s real shitty, House.”

House. Unlike everyone else, you rarely used his last name when talking to him. When speaking of him, sure, when in professional settings, almost always. But never in the privacy of you two or amongst friends. That’s when he realized the reality of what he’d caused.

“Y/n, I’m sorry,” he spoke, taking a step toward you. He leaned his cane on the counter and placed his hands on your waist. You didn’t move your arms from your sides, merely looking into his blue eyes to see if he was being genuine.

It seemed too good to be true.

“Accept the apology before I’m forced to take it back,”

And there it was.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” you muttered, moving your hands to rest on his biceps. House squeezed your waist, knowing that he got what he wanted. You rose to your tip-toes, your lips just barely touching his before you pulled away, “Now come on: that take-out is calling my name.”

[cherry-leclerc]

don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite. 

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush. 

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know. 

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly. 

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes. 

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.” 

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

-

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement. 

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does. 

Vulnerability is a bitch. 

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match. 

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride. 

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.” 

-

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich. 

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time. 

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit. 

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone. 

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk. 

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way. 

Snappy. Defensive. 

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.” 

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down. 

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

-

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last. 

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

-

Somewhere close by, they play jazz. 

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless. 

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill. 

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle. 

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears. 

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you. 

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth. 

“We never finished our conversation.”

-

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing. 

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me. 

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes. 

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat. 

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him. 

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

-

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.” 

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother. 

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm. 

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

-

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?” 

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh. 

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

-

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions. 

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…” 

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe. 

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got. 

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by. 

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder. 

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh. 

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze. 

“I am so sorry for asking—” 

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything. 

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed. 

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

-

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple. 

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know. 

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too. 

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.” 

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late. 

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot. 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner. 

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap. 

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further. 

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

-

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare. 

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her.  You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.” 

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound. 

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica. 

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her. 

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was. 

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions. 

Deep down. 

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot. 

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life. 

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else. 

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

-

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet  released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper.  “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?” 

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate. 

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second. 

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.” 

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes. 

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall. 

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue. 

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.” 

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed. 

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance. 

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his. 

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.” 

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock. 

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes. 

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks. 

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly. 

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers. 

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.” 

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.” 

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified. 

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!” 

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense. 

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point. 

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next. 

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer. 

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand. 

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

-

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better. 

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two. 

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple. 

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish. 

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better. 

He just wanted to forget that day—yes. 

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay. 

He hasn't been. Not since you. 

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened. 

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off. 

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same. 

I just wanted to help. 

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really. 

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis. 

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now. 

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner. 

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

-

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore. 

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man. 

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws. 

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it? 

Not even a generous half.

-

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name. 

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all. 

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter? 

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it. 

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what. 

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both. 

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one. 

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did. 

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition. 

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list. 

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays. 

Buzz. 

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way. 

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[lovelytsunoda]

you, me, lonely | mercedes amg (platonic)

summary: life is kicking baby mercs ass, and nothing has been alright since the last time she watched a brat pack movie. her head is too loud, life is moving fast, and she just wishes she knew how to stop and take a breath

pairing: mercedes amg (platonic) team x female! reader (but this one is real heavy on her interactions with lewis!)

warnings: y'all should know these by now tbh, there will be some anxiety and there will be feels and my girl is on the verge of a breakdown, mentions of pregnancy (not on baby mercs part lmao), she is finally ready to admit that maybe she should think about going to therapy.

part of the family is the friends we meet along the way series

her mind froze as she stared at the text on her screen, phone lying next to the keyboard of her work computer. she'd read the message three times over, and it still wasn't quite clicking.

clement: i thought you'd want to hear it from us before it hit the gossip rags....olli's new girlfriend is pregnant.

that shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. olli wasn't hers. she'd made it clear that she didn't want him after he'd kissed her at that holiday party.

so why was there an achy feeling her gut?

why did her head feel so loud that it might explode?

"hello? earth to yn?" the soft voice called her out of her reverie, and she looked up from her desk to see a worried lewis standing in front of her desk. "are you alright, kiddo?"

"yeah." she said, not really meaning it as she brushed some hair out of her face.

crazy how he was her first (and only) kiss two years ago, and now he was having a baby with someone else. she'd already blocked his number, and there was no point in sending him well wishes considering just how burned that bridge was.

"you don't look fine." lewis pushed gently. "a problem shared is a problem halved."

she sighed, locking her computer and tucking away her phone. "join me for a walk? i need to take my mandatory fifteen."

she grabbed her sherpa jacket from the back of her desk chair, heading towards brackley's patio doors. the cool fall air slapped her in the face as she pushed them open, moving to stand at the corner of the deck, attempting to soak up the last of what little sun england gets.

"remember that guy i kissed at marcus armstrong's holiday party a few years back?"

lewis nodded. "i do recall."

"he's going to be a father in march." she sighed, watching her breath turn to mist in the air. "somebody wanted him, but nobody has wanted me since him."

she knew in her heart of hearts that she hadn't really tried. she hadn't even really wanted olli when she thought about it. she couldn't date a driver, especially knowing that she would almost always come second to his career.

"and now with you leaving and graduation drawing closer, i just feel like my fucking head is about to explode." she laughed grimly, a realization coming over her. "i'm mentally ill, lewis. i need help. and it has taken me five fucking years to get to the point where i've felt like i could ask for it."

lewis could hear her voice cracking, and he didn't have to turn and look at her to know that she was close to tears. he silently reached out to pull her into a hug, not wanting to push too far, but also wanting to offer the reassurane and comfort that he knew she needed.

"the first step is admitting you need help. we have some of the best therapists in our industry here, yn. and if none of them work, we'll find out which ones are covered by your healthcare plan."

she resisted the urge to sink deeper into his arms with a hearty sob, instead choosing to focus on the grounding smell of his cologne, the feel of his strong, tattooed arms around her.

"and just because i'm at ferrari doesn't mean im gone for good." lewis reminded, pulling away to make sure she looked him in the eyes. "you know that i'm one phone call away, whenever you need me, right?'

she nodded weakly, thinking about the long distance calling fees and the timezones, and all the other reasons why lewis' grand plan might not work.

"i wish you weren't leaving me." she mumbled, hoping that even if lewis heard her say that, that he wouldn;t feel guilty. she knew deep down that he wasn't leaving her, but leaving a team that he felt could no longer build him the car he needed.

"you can call me any time, hey. and mostly everyone else will still be here. you'll still see me on race weekends. besides, once you graduate, you'll be too focused and too busy to have time for us anyways."

that was true. she couldn;t work here forever. sooner or later, it would all end and she'd find herself working in a county courthouse or a small family firm.

maybe somewhere coastal, like devon or halifax. her next big adventure, far away from home.

if she could make it through therapy first. lewis made her promise to talk to toto, who would be able to arrange a meeting with one of the on-staff psychologists for her. she'd met a fewof them in and around the break room, and they seemed personable.

like the kind of people that wouldn't judge the firestorm going on inside her brain at all hours.

they both knew it wasn't going to be a permanent fix, and that there were bigger, different things coming to the mercedes amg headquarters in the next season, including a seventeen year old boy who's gross income was about four times what baby merc could veer hope to earn.

but she was really starting to find her footing here. all she could hope for now was that she managed to keep it until graduation.

she felt somewhat lighter after her talk. being social had never been her forte, and she only somewhat conversed with the ladies in the legal office. talking was hard, she found.

but as lewis walked her back to her desk, and she took a look at her stack of files again, she felt better, albeit slightly.

"hey, yn." elodie, the tall and funny goth girl who worked at the desk next to her stuck her head over the glass dividers. "a few of us were going to grab a drink later and maybe go catch a late movie. did you want to come with us? don't at all feel like you have to say yes if you don't want to. i think doriane is coming, as well as-"

"elodie." she said, smiling to herself. "i would love to tag along. thank you for inviting me."

elodie grinned. "no problem, girlie. we're all going to meet in the front lobby. susie recommended this incredible cider place, and we try to go at least once a year once fall hits."

with her heart feeling a little lighter, and her spirit a little warmer, she turned back to her computer, a small, dainty smile on her face.

maybe making new friends outside of her post secondary education wasn't going to be as hard as she thought.

after all, didn't it only take one conversation to gain the great lewis hamilton as her most trusted ally?

she was so fortunate to work somewhere where everybody cared so much about each other, and that was the thought that she pledged to hang onto during her loneliest of hours from now on.

[vigilante-3073]

Hold Me

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

PART 1

Summary: If you had the chance to save the one you love, would you take it?

Reader has the power to Teleport

TW: Angst, violence, blood, guns, denied feelings, love-hate relationship, super-soldier serum.

Musical recommendations: Can You Hold Me? By NF (Feat. Britt Nicole).

Bucky sat on the leather couch in his therapist's office in silence as she searched through his phone. He usually enjoyed the silence, but today it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Bucky turned his head towards the window, the sky was dark and it had started to rain outside. His bright blue eyes followed the raindrops dutifully as they rolled down the glass, Bucky had always liked the rain.

"Who is Y/N?" Doctor Raynor asked, looking up from his cellphone screen.

"My roommate," Bucky stated.

"You never told me you had someone living with you," She said.

"Because it doesn't matter," Bucky said. He couldn't stand Y/N and he certainly didn't want to take up a second of his therapy session talking about her.

"The two of you talk quite a lot. Almost every day by the looks of it... How did you meet this person?" Doctor Raynor asked, pressing the power button on Bucky's phone. She held out the phone to him and he took it, setting it down on the couch beside himself.

"Steve," He said, looking down at his hands.

"Do you know why Steve introduced you to them?" Doctor Raynor questioned, picking up her pen.

Bucky sighed, shifting in his seat, "No," He said.

"Can you tell me about Y/N?" She asked.

Bucky could feel himself getting frustrated, "I'm not here to talk about her," He snapped.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

"Why do you even care?" Bucky questioned, sinking back into the couch.

"Because you do," She replied.

"I don't care about her. She has made my life hell since the day I met her," Bucky said.

"How has she managed that?" Doctor Raynor asked, scribbling notes down into her book.

Bucky huffed, "She's just annoying," He shrugged.

"How so?" The Doctor pushed, not looking up from her notes. Bucky wanted to toss that notebook across the room.

"Can we talk about something else?" He asked desperately.

"Nope," She stated, looking up at him with a small smile. Bucky knew that there was no getting around her.

He sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap, "She's always checking up on me... Texting, calling, forcing me into stupid conversations about my day and making terrible jokes," He listed.

"Does it feel overwhelming? Having someone check up on you, I mean," Doctor Raynor asked.

Yes. Yes, it does. Bucky thought bitterly.

"It feels like I'm being smothered... I know she means well, but it's just too much," Bucky stated.

"Have you told Y/N about how you've been feeling?" The Doctor asked.

Bucky sighed again, "No," He said plainly.

"Why not?" Doctor Raynor questioned.

"I don't want to hurt her feelings," Bucky muttered. And it was true, she was a good person, just overbearing sometimes.

"Huh, sounds to me like you care about her," Doctor Raynor said, closing her notebook.

"I don't," Bucky stated.

"Whatever you say," She smiled.

...

"Bucky!" Y/N cried, body colliding with his as she knocked him out of the way when the gunshot rang out.

The pair hit the suddenly sandy ground, rolling down the beach.

Bucky landed on his back with her body on top of him. He squinted up at the bright sky above them.

The leaves of palm trees rustled in the warm breeze, a few seagulls flying by overhead as the sound of ocean waves crashed against the shore.

"Where the hell are we?" Bucky asked, turning his head to see a large body of water with waves gently lapping at the shore.

They certainly weren't in Latvia anymore.

"I don't know," Y/N said, pushing herself up onto her knees with a grimace. She looked down at herself, "Shit," She muttered, Bucky looked up at her.

Y/N pressed her hand against her stomach, pulling it back to see her palm coated in blood.

Bucky sat up, looking down at her, "We need to get you to a hospital. Do you think you can portal us back?" He asked.

"Yeah, I-I think so," She stood up with Bucky's help, keeping her hand pressed against her stomach.

Y/N held onto his arm, closing her eyes as she tried to focus.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes, "Bucky, it's not working," She said shakily, her eyes glossing over with tears.

"You can do this," Bucky assured, squeezing her arm reassuringly.

"Bucky, I'm scared," She mumbled, a single tear breaking loose and rolling down her cheek.

Bucky quickly wiped it away with his thumb, dread beginning to settle in his stomach when he noticed how pale she was getting, "I know. But you need to stay calm right now," He said.

"I don't want to die," She whimpered, gripping onto him desperately.

"You are not going to die. I won't let that happen, alright?" Bucky assured, cupping her cheek in his palm. More tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded.

"I need you to focus, sweetheart. Get us back," Bucky instructed.

Y/N would be going into shock soon.

Bucky watched her as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. He could feel her trembling in his hold.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes again, "I can't do it," She mumbled tiredly, knees buckling underneath her.

Bucky stepped forward, catching her and gently lowering her down to the sand below.

He knelt beside her, "I need you to keep your eyes open, doll," Bucky instructed. His heart started to race as panic set in.

Y/N was going to die right in front of him.

"Stay with me," Bucky ordered, taking her hand. Her body slumped against his chest, "I'm sorry," She mumbled.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, sweetheart," Bucky assured, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't afford to break down right now, he needed to be strong for her.

"Can you hold me, please?" Y/N asked softly. Bucky nodded, carefully maneuvering her body into his lap with his arms holding her securely against his chest.

Her tired eyes stared out at the glistening ocean, "I certainly picked a beautiful place to die," She mumbled.

"You're not gonna die," Bucky choked out.

"It's okay. At least I'm with you," Y/N said softly.

She may have been a pain in the ass.

She may have been annoying at times.

But Bucky needed her.

Somewhere buried underneath all his fraudulent hate, he had fallen in love with her.

Bucky looked down at her as her grip on his hand went loose. Her eyes drifted shut, head leaning against his chest.

"Hey, Y/N. Y/N, open your eyes. Come on," He called shakily, tilting her head up to see her face. Bucky rubbed his thumb across her cheek, jostling her body in his arms, "Open your eyes," He pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes.

He could hear her heartbeat slowing in her chest. He looked up at the ocean, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Bucky knew that he couldn't save her on his own, but he'd be damned if he left her alone to die. His body shook as he sobbed, cradling her in his arms.

Bucky looked over as something reflective caught his eye in the sand.

A syringe of blue serum.

It must have gotten swept up with them when Y/N portalled them out.

The serum could save her life or kill her, but she was going to die without treatment regardless.

Bucky reached over, grabbing the serum from the sand. The serum would give her a fighting chance and that was good enough for Bucky.

He stabbed the syringe into her thigh, watching the blue serum move from the vial and into her bloodstream.

For now, he would sit on the beach and hold her in his arms while watching the tide roll in.

[copperbadge]

Hi Sam! I wanted to ask if you feel lately like you've been getting anything positive out of your therapy, because a lot of your initial thoughts about it kind of mirror mine. I'm very logical (except when I'm upset at myself) and very skeptical, so I feel like a therapist either isn't going to tell me anything new, or that I'm going to just disregard it because I can't trick myself into believing things that I just plain don't believe.

But I'm also starting to come to a realization, two years after my ADHD diagnosis and letting go (without therapy!) of most of the executive dysfunction-fueled self worth issues I was having, that I'm kind of Not Okay in other ways. I'm safe —going to work every day and doing my job so I won't lose my livelihood and have never had a self harm urge in my life— But I'm not really okay. I'm having major self esteem issues related to my personality separate from the executive dysfunction that are putting me in a bad place. I don't want to take antidepressants for reasons I won't go into but that means my other option is therapy and... I don't know if I'm a person that therapy will actually work on. I found a lot of validation in some of your perspectives, about affirmations being bullshit and "mindfulness" exercises feeling impossible and useless, about not having an inner monologue and how that might be causing issues with traditional methods. So I was just wondering, do you feel like therapy is working now that you've been in it longer?

I've wasted a lot of money on "elective" (and ultimately useless, back to square one) medical nonsense this year and I'm not eager to waste more, but I've also met my insurance deductible so it's the best time to try it if I'm going to.

I mean, it depends on the modality a little but I don't think trying basic talk therapy can hurt, as long as you find a decent therapist. And it's better to try it now when you're feeling Mostly Okay than waiting until you are Really Not Okay. But this entire paragraph comes with a lot of context so....

A lot of what I talked about in terms of struggling with mindfulness, etc. was less related to the therapy I am still in than it was to the DBT class I took at Therapist's suggestion. We were both aware that she was basically throwing stuff at the wall to see what stuck, and while it was an interesting class I don't think for me it was helpful. As you mention, I struggled with affirmations and visualization since neurologically I'm not really set up for those; I don't think they're objectively bullshit but I do think there's an assumption within the mental health industry that they will have function for everyone and that's simply untrue, and the expectation that it will is very damaging. I also struggled with the physical-intervention aspects (called TIPP usually) which didn't work at all for me and felt frankly like doctor-approved self harm. DBT can get very culty, which set off a ton of red flags for me -- possibly false flags, but they still waved real big.

And that's because I also have a lot of trust issues surrounding therapy. To the point where, the minute one of the people running the DBT class made actually quite gentle fun of me for asking a question he couldn't answer, I checked out on anything he said. We were learning about a DBT concept called Wise Mind and I asked, "If wise mind is an identifiable mental state, how do we know if we're in it?" and when he couldn't quite answer beyond "It's different for everyone" I said, "But if we know it's real there must be some kind of common denominator, a measurable data point," and he said "Well, Sam, you're not going to levitate" and the rest of the class laughed. Sorry bud, this is almost certainly an over-reaction, but I'm me and you lost me when you came at me instead of just admitting you didn't know. (Also it turns out I just live in Wise Mind like 80% of the time which is one reason I couldn't tell.)

But basic talk therapy outside of DBT is just...you talk at someone about your problems and come up with ways to try and solve them, which is a lot more straightforward and way less frustrating. You have to be an active participant, you have to both have a goal and be willing to discuss reaching it, but that goal can be as simple as just "figure out what my mental health goals should be" at first. You don't have to learn like, vocabulary for it.

The thing is, while I have seen some improvement in regulation issues, I also struggle with basic talk therapy. Most people, and this blew my mind, see measurable improvement in nine to eighteen therapy sessions. A lot of people don't go long-term, they just are having a moment and get help getting through the moment and then can disengage, with their therapist's approval.

I was in therapy consistently from the age of nine to eighteen and only stopped because I reached legal majority and physically refused to go.

Not one minute of those nine years did I want to be there. And, because none of the three therapists I saw across those years actually explained to me why I was there or how therapy worked, for me it felt like "Your punishment for having feelings is to speedrun every feeling you had this week in an hour, to a stranger." There was also what my current therapist believes to be some extremely unethical behavior going on, which didn't help.

So it has taken actually a lot of time to get to a place where I would even allow her to understand what help I need. I've been in therapy for about a year (generally weekly but there have been some gaps) and it has only recently gotten deeper than very basic interpersonal problem-solving.

Like, two weeks ago I told her, "I had a thought this week that I couldn't tell you about something I was doing because then you'd have material on me" (meaning blackmail material) "and that's a fucked-up thing to think." And once I'd actually identified it as fucked up I had zero issue telling her about it, wasn't even nervous as I did so. Who's she going to tell? She's literally legally constrained from telling.

I think well over half of what she does is either validate that whatever emotion I'm having is normal, affirm my reactions so I don't keep believing I behaved weirdly, or praise something I've done that was a positive act. Does this work? Not always, because I'm unfortunately very aware that it's part of her job to do those things. But yeah, sometimes. Even if you don't fully believe it, "Hey that was a really smart move" is nice to hear. Sometimes she helps me come up with a plan for stressful future events or (rarely) behavior modification, and sometimes she either provides me with research or points me towards research I can do on my own. We don't do meditation or affirmations or stuff like that.

Like, last week I brought up the fact that I hadn't really ever thought about how if I have a disability that causes emotional dysregulation and I got it from my parents, they also likely had undiagnosed emotional dysregulation when raising me. So she said I should look into research on children with emotionally dysregulated parents. I was pretty annoyed by what I found (the ONE TIME adults are the focus instead of the kids is the ONE TIME I needed to learn about the kids, really?) but it led to something that was both informative and upsetting, so we discussed that. And when I was stumped about how to move forward with the information, she suggested that my general coping mechanism of writing about it was probably a good plan.

(At which point I just silently advanced my powerpoint presentation to the next slide, where I had a series of quotes from the Shivadh novels where Michaelis, acting as a parent, repeatedly does the exact opposite of the upsetting thing, because I realized even before the meeting that it's an ongoing theme in my work whenever I deal with people being parents. It's a good thing she has a sense of humor and also that I do.)

So yeah. Going into therapy you have to be ready to reject a therapist if you don't like them or if they get weird and pushy, you have to be ready to be a self-advocate, but you are the client; it shouldn't be super difficult to find someone who can at least walk you through what you want from it and agree not to do the stuff you don't want, and if you want to stop going you just...stop going.

Good luck, in any case! I hope you get what you need, whether or not that ends up being therapy.

[pesky--dust]

We all laugh (or get annoyed) at Jack for being stupid. I do it myself, but let me stand up for him right now.

Let me start quite obviously: Jack had no ill intentions when he brought Will Graham into the FBI's work. He was convinced that Will could save lives and was ready to support him in that — he wanted Alana Bloom to be his psychological support, and when she refused, he went to the psychiatrist she recommended — Hannibal Lecter.

Yes, I'm annoyed myself with how he keep putting pressure on Will (e.g. episode Coquilles: "You go back to your classroom and there’s more killing that you could have prevented, it will sour that classroom forever") and his way of thinking, which he admitted to Hannibal Lecter in Buffet froid, which I will show with a fragment of the script of the said episode:

(that feeling when you agree with cannibalistic serial killer)

It was after Coquilles in which Will said that he want to quit because it is bad for him, so no Jack, I don't think Will feels the same way.

But this post was supposed to be a defense of Jack Crawford, so let's get back on topic.

Jack didn't know the truth about Hannibal, he didn't know that Will had autoimmune encephalitis, and he had no reason not to believe Hannibal that what was wrong with Will was psychological. After all, Dr. Lecter was the psychiatrist recommended to him! And Jack had every right to believe that Hannibal was giving Will the psychological help he needed in his work with the FBI.

And Hannibal prepared the ground for the version that Will has a mental disorder. The story that Hannibal presented made sense: due to his empathy disorder, Will began to believe that he was G.J. Hobbs and continued his work, ultimately taking the life of his daughter.

Jack recruited Will to work with the FBI, believing in his abilities, but Hannibal made him believe that the job had broken Graham mentally. And it's not unusual for disappointed patients to blame their therapists, so it would be quite a natural turn of events for Will to start claiming that Hannibal is the copycat killer, just to avoid being the one to blame. And there was no evidence against Hannibal, because he took care of it.

And now let me focus on the episode titled Yakimono.

Miriam Lass turned out to be alive. Hannibal's partial fingerprint was found at the place where she was held! And on top of that, Dr. Chilton referenced a cannibalistic joke he heard from Hannibal! And Jack ignored it all!!!

But are you sure? In my opinion, he was already planning to use Will again. I think Jack started to suspect something when Beverly Katz was murdered. In Futamono, he tested the food served at Hannibal's party. No human flesh was found there. With Yakimono though, Will's honey pot act in regards of Hannibal begins.

And my theory may seem to make no sense to you, but let me dig into it.

Let me show you a deleted scene from Kaiseki which I find particularly important, crucial one, here:

Tl;dr: Hannibal is social anti social, Will can shape him somehow, because Hannibal believes that Will is as unique as him himself.

Which leads to the conclusion that…

To catch Hannibal, the FBI must take advantage of his weakness towards Will.

And during his honey pot act, Will was still working with Jack, so why wouldn't Jack trust him? However, in Mizumono, Will called Hannibal, warning him, which led to the bloodbath, so why, even after hearing in Aperitivo that Will wanted to run away with Hannibal and a part of him would always want to (Dolce), did Jack continue to trust him? I think it was because Jack thought Will blamed himself for Abigail's death and since he was trying so hard to be a parent to her, he thought that if he ran away with Hannibal, Abigail would be still alive. And in the end, Will "got" Hannibal arrested, right?

Why did Jack allow Hannibal's fake escape in The Wrath of the Lamb and involved Will in that?

In my opinion it connects with the paragraph from earlier. Three years had passed, Will had gotten married, adopted his wife's son, so he had mentally recovered from the bloodbath and the death of his surrogate daughter, right? He told Jack he was really happy, right?

Will may have warned Hannibal and wanted to run away with him, but he was the reason Hannibal was caught. Three years have passed and Will has gotten himself together. In front of Jack he was playing (at least partially) about how he doesn't want to be drawn into the "game" he was playing with Hannibal again, he warned Molly that when he came back he would be different (he didn't come back), he said Alana that seeing Hanniabal for the first time in three years made him feel like Hannibal was looking through to the back of his skull; felt like a fly flitting around in there (... and the Woman Clothed with the Sun), he assured her that he wouldn't let Hannibal into his head again. Will seemed to be traumatized by all this. Up until...

This is the scene where Will is in Jack's office watching what the Dragon has done to Chilton (The Number of the Beast is 666). He looks terrified, panicked, and then suddenly… he becomes sort of relaxed, calm? Would you agree with that? I guess so. But have you ever noticed that there is a transition between these two reactions? It is in front of Jack and Alana that he is terrified, in front of Bedelia he is calm and admits to her that maybe he exposed Chilton to the Dragon on purpose because he actually hates him (just like in the book, although in the book he set Freddy Lounds up to the Dragon).

Will played in front of Jack until the end. Even when suggesting using Hannibal as bait, Will pretends he's not 100% sure it will work, even though he already had a deal with Francis Dolarhyde (The Wrath of the Lamb). It was us as the audience who knew this, not Jack.

I think that Jack believed Will, because he wanted to; it was his way of trying to rehabilitate himself after what Will had to go through because of him because Jack didn't believe him from the beginning that Hannibal was the Copycat. I think that after it turned out that Hannibal was not only the Copycat Killer, but also the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack decided to never doubt Will's abilities again. And that doomed him, just as Kade Prunnell and Alana Bloom predicted.

[lotusmi]

SUCCESS STORY!!🤎🧸

tw//mental problems, abusive family, bullying, suicide attempt, manifest/void obsession

first of all i want to thank lotus because it helped me even when i was thinking about suicide❤️‍🩹

it's been years since I learned loa and I was having problems with the manifest. althought I have known loa for 2-3 years, i constantly reacted to 3D and for such reasons I could not manifest anything for 2-3 years. and when i first learned loa i was obsessed with void. I was hurting myself to enter void. like if you don't enter void today I will kill you. i was crazy because of void. at the same time, I was staying in the family environment that dragged me to death, and I was bullied at school . i was hated by people even though i did nothing. i tried to commit suicide many times, my family wouldn't let me go to the therapist. also, no one said anything to the bullying I saw. thats why I bullied myself for years in the same way. if I told anyone I was being bullied and asked for help, they would say it was probably my problem to my face💀💀 and towards the end of 2022, i seriously couldn't stand it anymore. i was constantly reading blogs [i think there is no blog i haven't read, lmao] and the last time i couldn't stand it, i tried suicide again, but i failed. later i wrote to lotus and she gave me a lot of advice (baby ily😩❤️) and i cried more than i have ever cried that night. the problem is that while people were already ruining me, the real problem was that i was ruining myself too. after that day, in the first week, i had so many problems in my manifest journey. but until 2023, i said to myself, "i don't want to live like this anymore. i deserve the life I want.” i made a promise. and every time I felt like quitting, i remembered my promise to myself. and now i have revised my whole life, i live in dubai🤭. if you're going to ask how i did this, i started to listen to my inner voice, i almost stopped entering tumblr. i stopped affirming and wrote down the things that i was gonna revise one by one, and added them to the notes app on my phone. i made a note at the bottom that I already have these in my life. when “what if I can't manifest the life I want?” if such thoughts came to my mind, i told myself that the creation was already finished. in this process, i focused only on myself and was developing my self concept. before I went to bed at night, i was constantly imagining the life I wanted and I was staying in that state and saying I already had the life I wanted, I didn't affirm anything extra. and even those who made life difficult for me started to apologize to me. (i manifested their karma life lol) anyway I don't want to talk more about those bitches but I want to mention this. please take a break. relax. stay away from things like void, loa for a few days. I noticed that some of you are obsessed with void on this blog. but i must say void is just a method. if i manifested the life i wanted when i was only 12-13 years old, you can do it too. take a break and do what feels good to you. love yourself. loa blogs can help you up to a point. they can't spare all their days for you. start taking responsibility. find manifest methods that work well for you. love yourself. meditate. i’ve talked a lot but I would like to add that, if someone tells you that you are the cause of the circumstances you are experiencing right now, that you created the conditions in which you live, please tell them to shut their fucking mouths. no such thing. i was blaming myself again, thinking what a disgusting monster i am just because this “you create ur reality” thingy. but the truth is that creation is already over. good luck!

MY FAV SUCCESS STORY TO EXIST!!!! 😭

I literally cried when this girl texted me saying she is living her dream life, I was so pround, I am pround 💗

Backstory, she first texted me 12/15/2022

She told me everything about her circumstances, they were really bad ones, and she was 12 at time and this made my heart so broken (she revised her age) since her parents were really toxic and disgusting ( I am not going to say much about her old story).

So I told her all about the toxic home I lived and how I manifested it away too (my success, my failures).

So, time passed and 01/feb I got this text!

I literally cried because I was so happy for herrrr 💗😭😭

"How she did it?"

She focused in her inner Self being the only reality and ignored all circumstances!

"and i would love to you to add those youtubers and blogs" insta: - kriston jackson youtube: - lana blakely tumblr: - @becomingthatgirl111 — other sources abt loa: - joe dispenza, edward art"

I literally cried so much and I am so happy for you my angel, look how you did it! You were 12 and revised your whole life! 💗💗💗

And that are people out there who don't believe that it is possible to manifest things. Look at this girl 💓

You did it amazing love, I am so pround of you. You are deserving of all the best things in the world. I wish you all the fun in life. Thank you sm for sending me this, I feel so appreciated that I had helped you, but who did all of this was YOU! 💗💗💗

✉️You all, everything is possible!

[elysianightsss]

Limerence | Five

C H A P T E R F I V E

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter Warnings: Jealousy, more Jade, soulmate laws broken, physical violence, mentions of heats, blood mentioned.

Masterlist | Chapter Four | Chapter six

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream @alluresenses @qardasngan @imcamboaf @ondragonhonour @misscaller06 @itsberrydreemurstuff @queen-luna-007 @thepeachesclub @xxemmarldxx @heartless-tate

Taglist is open.

————————————————————————

Previously on Limerence:

The ride down is quiet your mind reeling and as if he knows he coaxes you to tell him what’s on your mind, “Who was that woman?” You ask, it comes out sounding impatient and certainly more jealous than you wanted.

“Oh that’s just Jade my secretary, she’s been here quite a while but I don’t really know that much about her other than her name and that she has a brother. That’s about it.” You nod slowly taking in everything he just said, you still don’t like it. You don’t like just Jade.

“It’s okay sweetheart you don’t need to be jealous with me, everything that I am is yours.” He smirks playfully at you, watching you closely with careful eyes.

“I’m not jealous.” You huff, arms folding under your chest with a pout gracing your lips, Kento chuckles at the sight thinking if he died right now and your cute little pout was the last thing he’d see, he’d be one hundred percent okay with that. “I’m not jealous.” You repeat frowning at his unconvinced face.

“Whatever you say sweetheart.”

You ignored his grin as best you could as he walked you to his car, a black SUV, definitely a luxury car. You noticed as you got in that everything was so clean and expensive looking. You felt out of place sitting in the vehicle.

He asks for the therapist address and you willingly gave, the drive was quiet yet comfortable, and rather short. “Thanks for dropping me off.” You blushed resisting the urge to fiddle with the hem of your sweater, the awkward tension that only you were feeling was rising quickly.

“I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done sweetheart.” He says so matter of fact, so sure that it makes your heart beat quicker. Your stomach fluttering as he gets out of the car to open your door, offering you his hand to help you out. “You don’t have to wait.”

What Kento wants to say is that those words were the stupid thing he’d ever heard, he’d wait a thousand years for you let alone an hour. He’s happy to, he’s ecstatic to simply be in your presence and help you.

“Nonsense.” Is all he comes out with, you notice a small smile gracing his lips before you make your way inside the building…

“How are you today?” Was the dreaded question you were asked every week by the woman sat in the comfy white chair, left leg crossed over right as she smiled your way with soft understanding eyes. It made your stomach churn at the sight, the pity and empathy that took hold of her face after she had read your file for the first time, it was awful and you’ve had to deal with it every week since.

You simply nod because you don’t really know what to say. How were you? All in one day you had met Sukuna, interviewed him. Ran out of work, something you’d definitely have to speak to your boss about later, you’d had Sukuna and Kenjaku turn up at your apartment and wake you from your omega space, you had met all six of your mates and now one of them has dropped you off at therapy and is waiting in the car for you to finish.

You take notice of the sparkle on her finger, you remember her telling you about her own mate. Just one. Her beloved husband, and two children, her precious family. A perfect one. Your gaze slides over the pictures scattered around the room of the picture perfect family and again your stomach churns.

You don’t remember what it’s like to be in a family much less a perfect one where everyone loves each other and you all get along. It’s a strange realisation when you remember what Sukuna said earlier, you had a family now. You didn’t know a single thing about them other than that they saved the world, but you did have them.

“I’m not really sure. So much has changed so fast and we both I’m not good with that.” You confessed to her, her face changing to a sympathy you felt undeserving of. She gestured for you to explain more and you do, leaving out the part of who you’re mated to, she’s shocked to say the least.

“Well that is a very interesting turn of events I must say. Take my advice or don’t, all I’ll say is be open to it. It could very well be the best thing that ever happens to you.” She smiles sweetly, you nod and begin telling her about your week before meeting your mates. Any anxiety attacks you had, the insomnia, the lack of eating and before you know it the timer is going off to say your session has ended.

You bid each other goodbye before heading out the building to see Kento waiting for you, a little smile pulling at his lips as he opens the car door for you. You slip inside having no idea how hard he’s fighting the urge to hug you close and plant kisses all over your forehead. Clearing his throat he jogs over to the other side of the car and gets in himself, quickly pressing the button to turn off his phone that had been sat on the dashboard, he hopes you haven’t seen the screen and ruin the surprise.

While waiting for you, Kento had sat in the car on his phone scrolling through nesting equipment websites. These types of companies were created a few years ago and took off. There were so many people who needed the comforts that they hadn’t before, and these were the perfect online shops to buy from.

Titsi was an amazing werewolf comfort shop, it was the most popular out of all the chains. It was not only online but had thousands of shops all over the world. It sold, soft and rough nesting blankets; all different shapes, colours and sizes. It sold stretchy clothes so they didn’t rip when people turned into their wolf forms. Clothes for new pups and toys.

And lucky for Kento the Valentine’s Day sale was still on. He scrolled down to the nesting blankets, clicking the softest category. He may not know your favourite colour but he goes with a nice neutral white. He imagines it all messy with the other blankets and other comfort items you could possibly have.

He purchases the biggest size on there and pays extra for next day delivery, the money is nothing to him but he hopes the blanket is everything to you. He hopes you add it to your nest the second he gives it to you but he doubts that will happen. You pay no mind as he slips his phone in his pocket before turning to you.

“Do you have a spare moment to come with me to the compound for a checkup?” He asks and although it’s soft, it scares you. It’s too caring and not at all what you’re use to. You haven’t had a medical checkup in years, what if they find something bad? What if you never have a heat? What if you can’t have pups? Suddenly your heart clenches painfully in your chest at the thought. You needed to know as much as he did.

“Only you and the doctor right?” You ask, maybe if you did receive bad news it would be easier if you only had to deal with one of your newly found mates instead of all six.

“If that is what you wish.” Kento is happy to do whatever he can to make you feel comfortable, if it means keeping his brothers at bay for a while then that’s what he’ll do.

-

The Compound was huge. Bigger than you had imagined, but you weren’t surprised not with all the alphas running around the place. You had agreed to this wanting desperately to ease the worry on Kento’s face, maybe you were regretting it now. Though his strong and confident hand on your back eased your worries as he led you through the compound and into the lab.

You greeted the doctors and stayed silent while Kento explained his worries, thought the men in white lab coats seemed to think nothing of it, agreeing to the tests but assuring you both that everything would be fine just as Kento did with you.

“Everything’s gonna be fine honey.” He smiled reassuringly as the doctor took your blood pressure. Your feeling lightheaded, dreading the outcome. Dreading that something bad is going to happen and before you know it the door is opening and Jade is popping inside handing a phone to Kento and whispering something to him. He nods and says to you, “I just need to take this sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” Before slipping outside and leaving you alone with her and the doctor.

She was here. Why was she here? You didn’t want her here. Jade stared at you as the doctor took your bloods, her eyes only wavering from you to the needle and then back to your face. She’s a green eyed monster, dangerous sparkling emerald eyes lurking in your mind. And suddenly you believe he is on her side. She’s demon in disguise looking for a weak spot to bring you misery, to spark a burning fire. You don’t know how long you can keep going before your own green eyes monster takes a hold of you and looses control.

You didn’t want her to know why you were having the tests done but when she asked the doctor, he happily spilled the beans thinking she was a close friend, you didn’t even get a chance to say you didn’t want her to know.

Her face completely changed to relief, her posture suddenly relaxed and a pathetic amount of hope was present in her eyes, “So does that mean she can’t have children?” She asks, disgusting excitement swirling in her voice.

This time you don’t give the doctor a chance to give up your information, “Who the fuck are you to ask that?” You seethe, teeth gritted as you spit out your words. Jade’s face becomes dark and annoyed as her eyes flit from the doctor to you.

“It’s important that I know.” She snarks, nose turned up as she stands there impatiently.

“You don’t get to know a god damn thing about my body and my children. Get the fuck out!” You shout, practically bellow, quickly becoming furious with this entitled bitch. Your behaviour shocks the doctor who had just finished taking your blood. Kento had described you to be shy and to be careful with you, he had expressed this sternly. But your behaviour was shocking you too, you felt your omega taking over, clawing its way to the surface. Ready to fight for what was yours.

“You silly little girl!” The words have you pushed into a flashback, your father saying the same exact words to you before he put you in that car… “I need to know if you can have pups or not! I need to know if I still have a chance with the man I love!” She screeches lunging forward grabbing onto your hair and clothes, pulling you down to the ground by her grip.

The doctor is frantic, trying to get her off as she slaps you across the face once. A sinister grin on her face as she raises her hand to do it again only for her wrist to be gripped harshly, Jade is ripped away from you and thrown against the pristine white wall.

“YOU DARE HURT MY MATE!” Kento’s snarl is heard in the entire compound as it shakes the walls and floors. Complete devastation is clear on Jade’s face as she struggles to her knees, Kento’s eyes fade to jet black a clear sign his wolf is in control.

You were dazed, she slapped you hard. Hard enough to not only leave a stinging mark but to also have your vision blurred at the edges and a ringing in your ears. It was difficult to concentrate, to understand what was happening around you. You needed to get it together, you’d been through far worse. Your black sweater and white blouse was ripped by her claws at the back, you felt the breeze against your bare skin as Kento helped you onto your feet. You vaguely remember Jade being escorted out the room by men wearing black tactile gear, it was all a blur as Kento pulled you into his chest and attempted to comfort you. His wolf desperate to keep you close, even when the brothers showed up he refused to let you go. He held you as you walked out of the building, he held you in the car, he held you whilst walking to a large house and finally you were in a big bed snuggled up against him. You didn’t get much chance to look around but you were sure that this was the Ôgami house.

-

You don’t remember falling asleep but with the warmth of Kento’s large body against yours, it couldn’t be helped. You notice you’re in a nest, created by the two beautiful men clumsily asleep on the bed too. Sukuna and Satoru had been running around and getting shirts and blankets for the nest while Kento pulled you into bed and held you against him.

His large, warm hand sliding up your throat, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. Him smiling as softly as he can before pressing an even softer kiss on your forehead. The memory creates a shiver that racks down your spine.

Shaking it off you slip out of bed and out of the room, the house was dark as you wandered around making you stumble right into another room. “Angel. You’re awake, how are you feeling?” Your eyes blink to adjust to the lamp lighting the room, you find Yuji at a desk covered in paperwork.

“Achy.” You answer simply, walking closer to him and peaking at the work on his desk.

He took notice following your eyesight, “Ah, the police asked me to put the secretary’s files together for court.” That was his job after all, besides overseeing the transportation and housing of those Alphas, he was in charge of the hiring and firing of all employees. This was his domain.

“Jade.”

“Yes. Jade. She will be tried for having attacked a soulmate, as well as some other things we’ve found but she’ll get thirty years just for attacking you.” Yuji smiled, he was happy she would be put away for harming you.

“Wow.” Your eyes start to sting with tears, you’re not even sure why. Yuji doesn’t ask, instead he pulls you into his lap for a cuddle. Even though you tense at the soft foreign touch, you allow him to move you as he pleased and comfort you in the way he knows how to.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.” He whispered gently stroking your hair as he hugged you to him. A few moments of silent thought passed before he spoke once more, “I understand this has been a very long and exhausting day for you, I understand this is so new to you. We all understand. We especially hope the incidents that have occurred today has not stopped you from accepting us as your mates. Though we can all have a serious discussion about that later.”

Yuji’s hand cupped your cheek leading your eyes to meet his, “I will say this, no one will ever hurt you again for as long as I live. This I vow to you.”

[littlelambscandyland]

Let Her Be

CG!House x Little!Autistic!Fem!Reader

Notes- Made the gal autistic because I am and couldn't stop myself from writing this, leave me alone, lol. That being said I just got my laptop working again, so I'll be working on requests again soon!

Warnings- Skin Picking (around the nails), Arguing (Cuddy and House), Hyperventilating, Panic Attacks, Non-violent biting (mentioned),

(Fun Fact the word count is 2,012 which is the same year the show ended)

It'd been 20 minutes. 20 damn minutes and no one even knew what this conversation was even about anymore. Cuddy had come to talk to House about yet another one of the man's many neglected duties. Normally it’d be a quick in and out where he’d complain, moan, and insult but eventually do, somewhat, what she asked. However, when Cuddy entered his office she noticed one of their interns off to the side. You.

You had been hired a few months back. A part-time intern for the psychiatric department. Cuddy was initially hesitant to hire you on because of your own mental disorders. You were autistic, quite ironic that you went into psychiatry. Despite her initial fear you were proven very useful and hardworking. Sometimes she felt herself feeling bad for ever thinking so wrongly of you, thinking how she played into the stigmas wrongly, but other times she feels glad she pushed those aside to hire you on.

Then again, maybe it was a mistake. Not because of you, mostly. You experienced age regression in high stress situations or for reasons Cuddy wasn’t quite aware of, and House had taken some special interest in you. He made excuses for you to work more with his team. Eventually Cuddy gave in letting you help with their cases by, essentially, being the patients temporary therapists. She gave you a raise and promoted you from intern, though most people still thought of you that way as Cuddy basically made up a position for you, just to shut House up.

The problems only really came when Cuddy noticed House having you around, almost, all the time. Noticing that unless he sent you away you were glued to his side. She also noted that you seemed more childish whenever he was around. Eventually, she realized you were regressed during these times. Of course, by realizing it was actually Wilson telling her after ranting to him about her confusion.

Now the actual problem wasn’t all of this. No. The problem was with House keeping you around all the time you weren’t able to do your actual job. You seriously couldn’t do it while in the mindscape of a five year old. It was ridiculous, so with feeling like there was nothing else to do she changed your job again. This time she made you House’s personal intern. Your new job entitles keeping him on track and mentally stable. Tieing in his need for you to be around and your degree in psychology.

Back to the present. It’s the first time Cuddy had to come and remind House of his job. The man had even been doing his clinic hours with a little less complaints. Today, though, House hadn’t been out of his office all day. According to Forman, House quickly dismissed them of any and all cases, and you’d done nothing about it.

So, here Cuddy was trying to talk to two incredibly distracted people. You wrapped up in a chair at a desk House had added just for you, and House sat opposite from Cuddy. He sparred more looks toward you than at Cuddy. Despite the “serious” talk, House just couldn’t ignore you. Sending funny faces or glances when you weren’t looking. If anyone knew any better they’d say House’s eyes were filled with adoration more than fascination.

And if anyone knew any better they’d realize they were right.

House had no idea when or why you became so important. He remembers meeting you, how kind you were. He remembers how he’d made a rude comment and you immediately shot back. He remembers how he called you out only for you to do the same to him. House remembers how you took everything he threw at you in stride. How you were so sweet and funny. How you willingly showed yourself with little doubt. He saw how sweet you were. How smart you were. How honest you were.

It was just you. Everything about you. He felt protective and calm with you. House felt like he didn’t have to mask himself around you. You openly answered anything he asked you and you told the truth. He knew from the moment he saw you that you were an age regressor. House knew that you wouldn’t hide that part of yourself from him as long as he asked, so he did. House confronted you the way he does everyone, bluntly. You answered him with slight embarrassment, but openly you answered with kindness towards his curiosity. 

Ever since he confronted you on it you’ve been completely responsive to every push he’s given. House can’t explain why but when you willingly started regressing around him he’d gotten so happy that he couldn’t help but coddle you. Even he found it odd how you became so special. A simple fascination turned to admiration. He saw you as a new extension of himself. Not because of how physically young you were to him, but because of how mentally young you could be. Even out of regression you had a positive childish view on things, and House was begging to protect that. He knows how rare a girl like you is. He felt even more proud when you asked him to be your caretaker when you regress. He felt even more proud than that when Cuddy transferred you to a new position as his “personal intern”. He liked spending his days with you. He liked how you needed him.

Now he sat looking at you. Eyes filled with boredom that changes to love whenever he looks towards you. You sat at a colorful deskright across from him. Eyes interchanging between a screen, Dr.Cuddy, and House. Sweet distractions and an inability to hear whatever the two of you are being told. Thick irritation unable to crush your five year old wonder.

You remember asking House if he was alright with having you around so often. You knew how it could be being stuck with someone unwillingly. You remember him telling you to shut up and if he didn’t want you around you’d be gone by now. You remember making him smile genuinely, not a sarcastic cocky one. You remember him questioning everything about you like an intense interview. You remember the smile that he tried to hide in pride when you asked him to be your caretaker.

You moved as gracefully as you could with the new changes thrown at you. You acted with stability and a mask that could be unbreakable. Yet. Anytime you were with House, alone, you dropped the mask and he did too. Two people completely real with who they’re supposed to be, if only for a short time. He saw you in a way most people didn’t. He didn’t doubt you because of your disorder. House became, so quickly, such an important part of your life. Platonically, you loved him and he loved you. Neither of you would admit it, but even when you weren’t regressed you saw him as a father figure. Someone who is actually there, who actually cares about you.

So, here you sat at your desk. The mindset of a child as you did your best to do your damn job. Cuddy scolding you and House simultaneously. Her words work too quickly in a tone you didn’t enjoy so you took in kind the silly looks and glances from House. You “worked” on the small computer in front of you. An open document with random words or phrases you’ve typed out being the only “work” related thing open. All your tabs have games or silly videos on them. Despite your current age you did try to listen to Cuddy, it was just so hard.

Cuddy stopped her rant midway through a sentence. A look of annoyance played in her eyes. She looks over to House who is once again making faces at you, and she looks at you trying your best to suppress your giggles.

“Will you pay attention, damnit.” Cuddy exclaims in frustration.

The sudden exclamation made you stiffen. You immediately shot your eyes to your lap, afraid Cuddy would turn her glare to you.

“Hey!” House shouts out just as quickly. “Watch your tone in front of the kid.” He says with a bit of a tease.

Cuddy bit at her words for a moment. Gapping for only a few seconds while looking between you and House. Finding her words she finally speaks again. “She shouldn’t be a child right now!”

“Well, maybe we should be more accommodating.” House argues, playfully.

“House this is serious. I won't have a reason to keep her working here if she isn’t actually working.” Cuddy replies.

“She is working.” He shakes his head. “She keeps me on track.” He says matter-of-a-factly.

Cuddy narrows her eyes at him. “Not today she isn’t. Today she is the biggest distraction you’ve ever seemed to have. Today you haven’t even taken on a new case!”

Their conversation continues. A bickering background as your mind takes in the overall statement “I’m a burden”. Of course, that wasn’t what Cuddy was trying to say. That doesn't mean that wasn’t the message coming across to you.

Your hands shook as you started to pick at the skin around your nails. Your eyes blurred, not with tears, but because of your ragged breaths. You picked and tore at the flesh. The red didn’t really bother you as you continued to rip at your fingers.

Suddenly House was moving across his office.

“What are you doing?” Cuddy questions before her eyes land on you.

“Will you shut up for like five minutes?” House answers with a voice filled with indignation.

House is near you in seconds. He takes your shaking hands in his and holds them tightly. He tries to guide you. Keyword tries.

“Alright well this isn’t working.” He says to no one in particular.

He pulls you out of your chair and to the couch, sits you in between his legs, and wraps his arms around you. He holds you tightly and says something to Cuddy you can’t quite hear between your own heart beats. Something about not telling anyone something, something.

“Tell me what you need.” He commands.

You shake your head feverishly. You’re pulling his arms more and pushing your back against him.

“Alright, alright.” He says.

One hand goes to your head and his other goes to your legs. He repositions you until your face is shoved into his shoulder. A few more minutes of pushing and pulling, and a bit of biting from your side. Finally you're calm enough for him to get an answer from you.

“What happened?” He asks bluntly.

“burden…” You say, your voice lowly.

“You're not a burden..” House replies quickly.

“That’s what this was about?” Cuddy asked dumbfounded.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re still here?” House asks.

She huffs at him before beginning to walk out.

“Next time watch your mouth in front of the kid!” He calls out to her.

House turns his attention back to you. Your mouth latched onto the collar of his coat and you were lightly chewing on it. 

“What’re you a gerbil? Get that out of your mouth.” He says taking his collar from you. “You know how many germs may be on this thing?” He teases.

“sorry…” You whisper.

He snorts. “No you’re not.”

His response pulls a small giggle from you.

“Hey,” He nudges you. “You’re not a burden. You hear me?” House looks into your eyes.

You nod your head.

“Good. Because if that was your takeaway of the conversation we need to teach you more on reading a room.” He tells you condescendingly. “Because I,” He emphasizes. “Don’t think of you as anything other than my kid.”

The way your eyes lit up at his words made House’s heart swell. If humans were actually made of stardust, House could’ve sworn all of your stardust was in your eyes. A moment of peace after what felt so intense.

Thankfully House didn’t see Wilson standing outside his office watching as, what he called, “House makes progress”.

[13uswntimagines]

Promises We Make (Lindsey Horan x Soulmate!R)

Request: A Lindsey x reader soulmate AU where people know they're soulmates because they share dreams with them. Something angsty and happy and a lot of things.

Author's note: Wow, this has been a crazy long time coming. I think I have almost 2 years of planning, writing and re-writing in this fic. It’s a bit different than the original. It includes some new scenes and things that I meant to put in but never physically did. It feels like a little piece of my soul, so I really hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think, I’m always down to chat. Hit me up with questions or concerns. 

 Without Further ado: 

You had never understood when people said that the dreams you shared with your soulmate were more vivid. It was hard for your brain to wrap itself around the idea that everything was more intense in the shared dreams, especially the first one. 

You didn’t understand until you blinked into consciousness. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at the immediate kaleidoscope of colors that met you. A deep blue sky with cotton-like clouds lazily drifting in the wind. The sun peeked out at you from behind them, its rays landing pleasantly on your face, a light breeze fluttering around you. 

Your fingers wound through the cool grass under you, as you pushed yourself to a sitting position. 

It was nice, even if you weren’t quite sure where you were. 

The comfortability of it all felt like lead in your stomach, countering the inherently light feeling of your surroundings. This was the moment you had been dreading for your entire life. The dream you had been dreading for your entire life. 

The dream you hadn’t been sure you would ever have. 

You blew out a shuddering breath, your eyes tracing a netless goal at the far end of the field and a rusty teeter-totter nestled behind it in a halfhearted effort to follow your therapist's technique for quelling the growing butterflies in your chest. 

Her advice never worked, but still, you tried. 

You drew your eyes along the heavy chain link fence that sprouted from the back corner of the goal and encased the field, separating it from the tall trees that acted as a shield for a low brick building. 

The leaves were alight with the warm oranges and browns of fall, rippling in time with the drifting breeze like the hands of fans as you made your final lap around the stadium. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out. 

You supposed that they were the only spectators in a place like this, even if you still weren’t sure where you were. You could tell it was a school playground, possibly from childhood, but it wasn’t from your childhood. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out. 

Or maybe they were a divine sign. A premonition flashing red, orange, and yellow, warning you of the incoming storm. Like the creak of a door before the monster appeared in a movie. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out. 

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled at the light crinkle of grass behind you. The first indication that you weren’t alone. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Breathe out.

“Hey, fancy meeting you here,” 

Her voice immediately sent a shiver down your spine, untangling the suffocating knot that had formed around your lungs. It had goosebumps appearing up and down your arms and legs. 

You should have been surprised, but you weren’t. 

Your head turned to look back over your shoulder, and suddenly your breath was gone again. 

You gulped, trying not to think about how the sun filtering through her blonde hair reminded you so much of a halo. How the sight alone was enough to ease the bubbling dread in your stomach. She had been through almost everything with you. You and your heart had always been safe with her. 

She wouldn’t hurt you.

“Hey Linds,” You smiled softly. 

The smile she returned didn’t quite meet her eyes. “There’s a set of swings over there if you wanna chat?” She gestured to your left, shifting on her feet awkwardly. 

You nodded, pushing yourself up noting how soft the grass felt under your bare feet following after her. It felt natural. You had been following her for nearly all of your adult life. 

The two of you had met in France when you were barely 17 and from the moment you laid eyes on each other, you were attached at the hip. She had stubbornly forced her way beyond the wall your childhood had built and into your heart. You undoubtedly loved her, even if you were too afraid to admit it. 

You resisted the urge to take her hand as you walked, one that you had never experienced in real life. She always reserved hand-holding for her significant others, and it was one of the few lines that the two of you had never blurred (except in France, but that didn’t count). 

 The walk over to the small, blue-gray swing set was quiet, but the two of you had never been uncomfortable in silence. It was familiar, warm. The silence was full of safety, even as you settled on the plastic seat. 

“Where are we, exactly?” You asked, your fingers wrapping tightly around the chain, the nail of your thumb picking at the slightly peeling paint, and your toes digging into the dip in the ground underneath you. 

It made you feel like you were in middle school, talking to a girl you liked for the first time, not sure what to say or how to say it. Putting your feelings into words had never been your strong suit. 

She cleared her throat, the crinkles by her eyes tightening for a long second as she began to swing slowly, her cleats scratching against the ground. “My elementary school,” 

More silence stretched between you, and you watched her closely. It unsettled you how her eyes remained glued to her cleats, how she wouldn't look up at you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Shouldn’t you both be happy? Shouldn’t she feel as relieved as you felt? 

The two of you had been dancing around this thing for so long and now it all made sense. You didn’t have to be afraid of how you were so drawn to each other anymore. You could allow yourself to feel.

But Lindsey didn’t look relieved. 

“I don’t want things to change between us,” She said, her voice barely audible, rough with emotions that you didn’t quite understand, the tip of her cleat kicking up a clump of dirt. 

“I don’t think it has to,” You said slowly, reaching out to catch her hand hoping she would look at you. “We can take this slow, and figure it out as we go,”

You weren’t sure how the whole soulmate thing was supposed to work. You had honestly never believed in soulmates, but you were willing to try.

You would be willing to do just about anything for her. 

Another beat of silence passed between you, and you squeezed her hand once in reassurance. It would all be alright. The two of you could make it through anything together. 

Lindsey dragged her gaze up. You sucked in a deep breath as red-rimmed blue finally met you.  “I have a boyfriend Y/n. I love him.” 

It felt like a knife, sharp and slow slipping into your chest, finding its way perfectly between your ribs. A cold ache diffused from the point of your heart and you resisted the urge to see if she had actually stabbed you. 

“I love him,”

The second half of her sentence pinged around your head like the metal bearing in a pinball machine. It echoed everything you were already aware of, everything your mother had told you before you moved out. 

You knew she loved you too, but she couldn’t love you the way you had always loved her. She wasn’t in love with you. She couldn’t be in love with you because she was in love with him. 

You weren’t worthy of her love. 

You swallowed hard. “Oh,” 

The word was forced and showed more of your pain than you wanted her to see. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t love you. That was all on you. 

“I don’t want things to change between us,” She said, her voice edging on pleading, willing you to understand. She squeezed your now limp fingers tightly. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose you,” 

You hadn’t even realized you let go of her hand.

The knife twisted in your chest, its tip scratching at your lungs with each breath you sucked past your lips. One little push and it would rip you wide open. You couldn’t bear to lose her, even if it hurt to not. 

You didn’t know how to be without her. 

“You won’t,” 

The promise was soft, scratchy, filled with all the words you wanted to say, but couldn’t bring yourself to let out. You had never made her a promise you didn’t keep, but you weren’t sure you would be able to see this one through. 

You had to try for her. 

It would make her happy, and as her soulmate, that was all that should matter to you. 

Her shoulders instantly relaxed, and you tried not to think about how the knife wiggled a little more at her relief. You tried not to think about how the warning from the trees had been right. 

She squeezed your fingers again, tugging you off of your swing and into a hug. 

“Thank you for understanding,” 

You shivered at how her lips grazed your neck with the words. They tickled and ached all at the same time. 

You did understand. 

“Yeah. Anything for you,” You mumbled, tucking your nose against her collarbone, breathing in her vanilla body wash and perfume, allowing yourself to enjoy the contact for just a second. Pretending that it didn’t hurt. Pretending that it would all be alright. 

Your eyes slid closed and you will yourself to wake up. 

You could deal with her rejection, as long as you didn’t lose the people you loved the most. 

*****

Your fingers wrapped tightly around the cardboard USSoccer-provided coffee cup trying to leech as much warmth from it as you could. It wasn’t that you were physically cold, but the icy sludge that settled in your stomach from the moment that you jerked awake hadn’t abated. It numbed you from the inside out, sloshing around and refusing to let you forget. 

You took a little sip of your too-hot coffee, swirling the molten liquid across your tongue and savoring the sting. It did just enough to combat the icicles in your veins, but you didn't know if it was because it gave you an excuse to stay quiet and avoid your teammates or because it was actually helpful. 

You knew you were too quiet for a camp breakfast, but you didn’t know any other way to maintain normalcy. The team was just starting to gel, and you didn’t want to throw that off. You knew they didn’t take soulmate issues lightly. They didn’t need the distraction. 

You could pretend you were fine for their sake. 

Lindsey seemed fine after all. She had taken her spot next to you without question, as though nothing had changed between you. She wrapped her arm around the back of your chair and passed you the cantaloupe from her breakfast plate like she always did. She seemed at ease, joking with your friends, nudging you with each story she told. 

She seemed completely oblivious to how each action deposited a little more sediment on the growing stalagmites around your heart. How each smile pulled too tightly from your cheeks and was followed by a steaming sip. 

You could pretend for her sake too. She had asked you to, and you would do anything for her. 

“What about you Y/n?” 

You blinked up at the mention of your name, your coffee cup landing on the table with a low tap and your eyes finding Emily’s. You could see the thinly veiled worry buried in her blue, hidden well enough that it wouldn’t be obvious to the rest of the table, except maybe Kelley but she didn’t count because she was the blonde’s soulmate. 

“What about me?” 

The table erupted in laughter, and Lindsey nudged you again. “You’re such a space cadet,” 

You fought to hold back a cringe at the action, something that would have had warmth blooming in your chest and heat rising to your cheeks on any other day, but it just made the sludge in your stomach slosh, sending another wave of numbness through you. 

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed across from you, catching your pained expression. 

She had known you almost as long as you had known Lindsey and the two of you were nearly as close. 

“What are your celebration plans for when we win?” Emily repeated the question, leaning forward just a bit, concern evident in her tone. 

You shrugged. You hadn't considered what would happen if you managed to win the W Cup. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You and Lindsey always celebrated together, until the mess at the world cup. It had hurt too much to think about what winning would look like without your normal tradition. 

“We have to get past Uzbekistan first,” 

“You average almost 3 goals a game, I think we’re gonna be ok,” Kristie scoffed, shaking her head, oblivious to the way Emily and Kelley were staring at you. 

“Uzbekistan isn’t exactly known for its firepower,” Rose added with a smirk, rolling her eyes. “And you can’t tell me that you haven’t thought about what you’re going to do when we win,” 

“Maybe we should ask if she’s thought about who she would do when we win,” Kristie cackled, and parts of the table hummed in agreement. 

You knew it was in reference to how you disappeared after you won the world cup. How they all assumed you had slept your way through several fans on your way back to the United States. You didn’t feel the need to correct them. That would involve explaining exactly what had happened. 

You sent them a halfhearted smile, hoping it looked like the one you shot them when you had been caught. “I’ll probably go back to my room and drink my way through my mini-bar,” 

You didn’t miss the grimace Kelley and Emily shared, or the way Lindsey's dimples jumped out as she frowned. You felt satisfaction tickle the back of your throat. Lindsey had spent the majority of her time pretending like the World Cup Celebration didn’t happen. Like the two of you didn’t almost-. 

You shook your head. You told yourself not to think about it. 

She would never understand the fallout like Emily and Kelley did. They were both there to see it. 

“That’s lame,” Kristie said, her nose scrunching at the prospect. “At least in France, you found yourself a companion,” 

Rose raised an eyebrow at you incredulously. “I thought you weren’t supposed to drink alone?”

You rolled your eyes at the line. Your line. The one you had used to avoid answering questions about the world cup. You caught Lindsey's grimace out of the corner of your eye.

She believed you had slept your way back to the airplane too, but you didn’t understand why she cared. 

She had a boyfriend. 

The sludge in your stomach sloshed again. 

“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” You muttered halfheartedly, stabbing at your eggs. 

You didn’t even like eggs. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to after your conquests in Florida,” Lindsey said, her voice a thinly veiled sharpness. 

The tone immediately drew your attention, like a razor running gently across your skin, poised to slice you open.

You didn’t talk about Florida, and most of the team acted like you didn’t disappear for 2 months after the World Cup. Considering all the other things Lindsey pretended didn’t happen, you had never expected her to bring it up. 

You forced the bubbling pit in your stomach down, masking it with an easy smile. “What are your plans then?”

The table paused, Emily and Kelley both leaning forward like they were being pulled by a rope, waiting for Lindsey to answer. 

You were very touchy about Florida. 

The midfielder returned your easy smile, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll probably call Ty. He said he has a surprise for me,” 

You did your best to keep your face straight, even as her words sent a numb wave through you. 

“We all know what that will be,” Rose cackled, wiggling her eyebrows. 

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You didn’t want to think about her being with anyone else. You didn’t want to think about your soulmate being intimate, being vulnerable, with him. 

“Too bad you two aren’t soulmates,” Sam hummed, almost offhandedly. 

It still burned in the back of your throat. You didn’t want anyone thinking he was your soulmate’s soulmate. 

You didn’t have a right to be possessive, but it roared to life in your chest like a lion. She was supposed to be yours but she wasn’t.

You cleared your throat, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to shove those feelings down. You didn’t have the right to feel those feelings.

“I think I’m gonna go to the bus early and try to catch a nap.” You said, clearing your throat as your voice caught. “I didn’t sleep well. Time change and all,” 

You didn’t look up from your coffee cup as you pushed yourself up from the table, afraid of what you would see. You didn’t need to see her indifference. That would hurt worse. 

You ignored the stares on your back as you took your half-eaten plate to the trash and slipped out the door. 

At least if you fell asleep now, she wouldn’t be able to join you there. 

****

The soccer field had always been your safe space. It was the one place in the world where your thoughts went silent and all that mattered was the present moment. 

Even when things during your time at PSG had been rough, the pitch had always welcomed you like an old friend. You could forget your pain as the ball bent to your will.

Except this time you couldn’t.

Not with how oppressively hot Houston was. Not with how Vlatko was playing the starters, expecting you and Lindsey to link seamlessly. Not with how Emily and Kelley kept sending you worried glances. 

It felt like an absolute nightmare in all of its vivid colors, but despite it all your performance hadn’t been affected. 

You ran your hand through your hair, wiping your flyaway curls away from in front of your eyes, turning away from goal before you even saw Casey miss the save. 

“How are you so fast?” Emily asked, falling into step beside you with a nudge. 

You shrugged, shoving her away from you, painting a smile over your features, trying to be normal. “You’re just slow,” 

Lindsey had asked you to be normal. 

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed, and you knew she wasn’t fooled. You hadn’t expected her to be. 

Emily had known you nearly as long as Lindsey did, and the two of you were more like sisters than friends at this point. She knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes. 

You spent a month on her couch after you came back from Florida and she had even converted the 2nd room of her apartment into a bedroom for you because she didn’t think it was alright for you to be alone. 

Her soulmate, Kelley, had slotted into your life just as nicely, taking the place of the older sibling you always wished your brother would be. 

They were both deceptively good at reading you, and sometimes it was easier to talk to them than it was for you to talk to Tobin and Christen (your self-appointed team moms). They were just as protective. 

“What’s up with you?” Emily nudged you again, catching your elbow and forcing you to look at her. “You seem off,” 

You shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I told you, I didn’t sleep,”

“Which just seems odd because Abby said you were passed out cold when she came back from her shower,” Emily said, wiggling your elbow so you would look at her. 

You swallowed hard. You could feel her eyes (and a few others) boring into your soul, and you weren’t quite sure how to make the words come out of your mouth. How could you tell her without hurting her relationship with Lindsey?  

“You can talk to me about anything you know? Keeping it all in isn’t healthy,” She added, nudging you again. 

You sighed heavily, only able to meet her eyes for a second before you had to look away. The weight of them was too much. 

You had too much on your mind, and if you opened up, you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop. 

“I just want to play soccer,”

The words sounded weak even to your ears, an old excuse that had been worn through. Her eyes immediately tightened, as did the fingers on your arm. 

“Does this have to do with how much your phone has been ringing?” Her voice was strained, earning an instant frown. 

You didn’t think anyone noticed how often your phone had been going off, or how you never answered it. 

“It’s not-“ You stuttered, shaking your head, closing your eyes, and tilting your head back. That was an entirely different can of worms you weren’t willing to open. Not on top of the Lindsey thing. “I had a bad dream, I woke up. I’m tired,” 

“Do you want to talk about it,” Emily asked you gently, despite already knowing the answer. 

You shook your head once, uttering a “No,” Despite the loud “yes” that echoed around your head. 

Emily squeezed your arm, forcing you to look up at her, worry shining through her blue eyes. “The longer you push it away, the more it’ll hurt,” 

You could hear the warning in her soft voice but also the unwillingness to press. The dance the two of you had played with for a long time. 

She didn’t want you to spiral again. She didn’t want you to go back to the place you had been right after France. She didn’t want you to think you had to hide your pain for everyone else’s sake. 

“I know,” You forced out, biting into your lower lip to prevent the tidal wave of emotions in your chest from breaking out. “I’ve got it handled,” 

You could tell she didn’t believe you by the frown she sent your way. “And if you don’t,” 

“You’ll be the first to know,” You promised, grabbing the hand on your arm and squeezing her fingers. 

“Promise me,” She demanded, slightly too loud, and you felt more eyes on you. 

You nodded. “Promise,” 

“Ok then,” She said, releasing you and nodding towards the coach.  “It’s your turn to run the drill again,” 

You let an easy smirk take over your features. “Maybe you’ll catch me this time loser,” 

You didn’t miss the look Emily shared with Kelley as you headed to the starting position of the drill, the telepathic-like communication only soulmates seemed to share. Or the furrowed eyebrows Lindsey sent your way. 

You knew what both looks meant. Everyone would be watching you more closely for one reason or another. 

******

You settled heavily into your airplane seat, your head leaning hard against the window, pressing your headphones uncomfortably into your head. 

It was weird, traveling by yourself. For as long as you could remember you always flew back to Portland with Lindsey, Emily, and Tobin. With your LA trade, that wasn’t a thing anymore. 

Hell, only Lindsey was left in Portland. 

The only thing you preferred about flying alone was how quiet everything was. How you could finally rest. 

Because camp was utterly exhausting. 

You had started in both games against Uzbekistan, and you scored 5 goals in both games, but Vlatko didn’t take the opportunity to get off your ass. Instead, he had used your only 5 goals as leverage to remind you of the youngins below you vying for a spot. 

And then you had the whole Lindsey situation, as you had been calling it. 

It made your chest ache how she acted like nothing had happened between you. How she seemed content to walk the tightrope between friend and more than a friend, ignorant to how much it hurt. 

Oblivious to the numb wave she sent through you each time she so much as brushed your skin. 

It made it impossible to remain neutral, when you obsessed over every interaction you had with her, worried you were too affectionate or not affectionate enough, unable to walk the tightrope. 

And then you had to deal with your friends. Well-meaning as they were, you wished they would just leave you alone. You didn’t want to talk about your sudden difficulty sleeping or have them try to cuddle you to soothe you into it. 

It was easier to pretend when no one questioned you. It was easier to avoid sleep when no one was watching you. 

But alone on the airplane, no one could bother you. You couldn’t receive voicemails you didn’t want to answer, or texts that would make your aching heart tear just a bit more. No one would try to make you talk, and no one would tell you how inadequate of a player you were. 

It was perfect. 

Your eyelids drooped without your consent as you pressed your forehead harder into the cool glass. You shouldn’t have been surprised after 40 hours of nearly no sleep and a 95-minute game under your belt. 

You wished you could stay forever, and let the subzero air outside of the airplane leach your exhaustion away. 

****

You kept your eyes closed as you came into consciousness, pressing your face deeper into the soft sand underneath you as the sound of the lapping waves and the salty air washed over you.

You didn’t even have to look to know where you were. 

You let it soothe your soul, filling the holes in your chest and removing some of the icicles in your veins.

You felt her warm presence settle beside you, and you fought to hold in your sigh.

You needed peace, but the universe seemed reluctant to give you that. 

You wouldn’t allow her to ruin this place for you. Not when it held so many memories. 

She let you stay quiet for a long moment, before gently bumping your shoulder. “Hey,”

You were reluctant to open your eyes, but you did, carefully rolling over to meet her blue. It was strange that the sand didn’t stick to you like it would in real life.

“Hey,” You smiled stiffly at your blonde soulmate. You were acutely aware of how much your eyes crinkled, how little the edges of your lips moved. You had promised nothing would change, but watching her now, it felt like there was an ocean between you that hadn’t been there before. You felt hyper-aware of every action you made and you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that you were going to ruin it all. Hell, all of camp there had been a disconnect, and you weren’t sure you would ever have the strength to bridge that gap.  

Lindsey cleared her throat, her dimples appearing as she compressed her lips and tugged at the Stanford sweatshirt she was wearing. “I guess I’m cold on the airplane,”

Your eyes followed a small hole just above the wrist. The hole you had made 20 minutes after Kelley bought you the shirt on a goalpost. 

You hadn’t seen the red material since you left the Thorns for Angel City almost 4 months ago. 

Well, that was a lie. You had seen it when you visited Lindsey for her birthday, but you pretended you hadn’t noticed it tucked under the comforter of her bed. She always did love it more than you did. 

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked down at yourself, trying not to cringe at the faded tank top hanging from your shoulders, spiderman’s face bleached by the sun and salt. 

 “Yeah. I guess I’m hot,” You mumbled, your finger poking through a large hole in the bottom, one of the main reasons Emily made you throw it out before you had gotten on the plane back to Portland with her. “I’m not sure how any of this works,” 

Your parents had never been forthcoming with information about the dreams. It was more than that. Your mother despised the concept of soulmates and the dreams that came with them. You supposed it was understandable. Your parents had split when you were young, your mother choosing the bottle over everything and your father choosing his 19-year-old girlfriend. 

You always wondered if her use of alcohol was to suppress the dreams so she didn’t have to see him and deal with the pain and if it actually worked. You wondered if she would have been happier if she hadn't. 

You never got the chance to ask. She had never cared enough to let you. 

“Emily said sometimes our feelings translate to the dreams,” Lindsey hummed, drawing random patterns in the sand. “Like when Kelley is sad, it rains. Or when she’s missing Kelley it’ll be unbearably hot,”

You nodded, digesting the information. You could understand that logic. Emily always did love physical contact when she was sad, so forcing her soulmate to cuddle with her naked made sense to you, but you weren’t sure it applied ot you and Lindsey. 

If anything the discrepancies in how you were dressed would only indicate how much the two of you were on completely different pages. Ice prickled in your veins at the thought, so you banished it. 

“I’m not sure,” You said slowly, pinching a bit of smooth sand. “I haven’t really given this whole thing that much thought,” 

It was the truth. You had been wholeheartedly consumed with acting like the cold sludge in your stomach didn’t roll every time she looked at you. You were consumed with pretending that you weren’t being numbed from the inside out. 

Her head dipped in agreement, as she cupped another handful of sand and slowly let it drip from her palm, forming perfect sandcastles. “I think we’re in your dream this time. I’ve never been here,” 

“It’s New Smyrna Beach,” You supplied easily, letting the velvety sand run through your fingers, enjoying how the cool granules contrasted with Lindsey’s burning gaze. “It’s on the east coast of Florida, just south of Saint Augustine,” 

Lindsey made a low noise, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Everyone knew you had gone to Florida after the World Cup, but very few actually knew where you had gone. You were incredibly tight-lipped about it, no matter how hard Lindsey pressed. 

You were sure that your surroundings, complete with the one person orange tent you had stayed in, weren’t what she had in mind. 

“You vacationed there after we got back from France,” She said finally, and you had to fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the full body shiver from rocking through you. 

You wouldn’t necessarily call the months you had spent as a beach bum a vacation. It had been a necessary evil. An escape. 

A way to outrun the emotions that being back in fucking France had brought up. A way to get that coach’s voice out of your head, because scoring twice on the team that represented him just hadn’t been enough to quiet those thoughts.  A way to pretend like you and Lindsey hadn’t- 

You shook your head. You weren’t supposed to think of the night of the world cup. Of what would have been had Kelley not knocked on your door. 

It was probably for the best. You wouldn’t have been able to handle being one of her regrets on top of everything else. 

“You never told me what you were doing down here,” She mumbled, seemingly offhandedly, but you knew better. You could tell how invested in the conversation thought the sudden tightness in her back, and the way she was deathgripping the sand. 

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Surfing mostly,” 

It wasn’t a total lie. You had spent most of your days surrounded by the waves, covered in salt water and sand. It was easy not to think when you were in the surf. 

“You wouldn’t answer anyone's calls,” Lindsey pushed further. 

You tried not to flinch at the distinct wobble in her voice. It made the sludge in your chest slosh and the ice crystals in your veins to grow. You never wanted to hurt her.

You waved your hand towards the north end of the beach, masking your wince. “I threw my phone off a pier,” 

“But why?”

Her hand caught your arm, forcing you to look at her. Her blue eyes burned. They reminded you of how they looked the night you told her what the coaching staff at PSG was doing to you. They rendered you naked and exposed. They pleaded with your very soul. 

But you couldn't tell her. She had asked you to be normal. She asked that nothing change. 

It was more important to you to keep your promise. 

“I just,” You averted your eyes, searching the lapping sea for the answer. To tell her without telling her. “I needed a break. It was too hard,” 

You wanted her to acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. You wanted her to admit that it wasn’t just a passing moment brought on by the excitement of winning the world cup. You desperately wanted her to admit that the two of you had been soulmates long before you shared your first dream.

It was selfish, you knew that, to expect that of her, but you craved it. 

It had been too hard for you to stay around her when she wasn’t going to do any of those things. 

“You’ve never shut me out like that before,” Lindsey said desperately. “Why couldn’t you have taken a break in Portland,” You swore an unspoken “with me” belonged out the end of the sentence. 

You shrugged. She wasn’t at a place where she would understand.  

“My brother lives in Miami,” You explained softly, your tooth catching your top lip as you tried to string together the right words. “I thought that maybe I’d be able to… I don’t know… understand him more if I was down here,”

It was easier to throw blame on him, to hide behind your family problems to avoid everything. Lindsey could understand those. 

“Did it help?” She asked earnestly, and it made your chest ache. She cared just not in the way you so desperately wanted her to. 

“No.” You snorted. “He’s as much of an ass as he always was but the waves, the sun, and the sand were good for me,” 

She nodded, elbowing your upper arm. “You did have one hell of a tan after you came back,” 

“Can’t get that in Portland,” You chuckled.

“Ty says Greece is the best place to get a tan,” 

It was like a pin in the sudden balloon that had filled your chest. 

You sucked in a shallow breath, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt. Trying to pretend like his very name didn’t send a numb wave through you and have your mothers cackling laugh resounding in your head. 

Your soulmate had chosen someone else. You weren’t worthy of her. 

“Greece is ok,” You shrugged, dragging your fingers through the sand, and picking up a handful. “This beach is less crowded. It kinda grew on me.” 

You flipped your hand on its side, letting the sand slide through, landing in a perfectly imperfect tower shape. You tried not to think about how much it represented you. How things seemed to fall into place, and out of place all at the same time. 

“I’ll have to suggest it to him,” She hummed, completely unaware of your inner war. 

“Yeah,” You muttered, breathing out through your nose, willing yourself to just wake up. 

You forced yourself to watch the sand as it trickled through your fingers, begging whoever would listen in your head to just let you open your eyes. 

You didn’t want to share this place with anyone besides Lindsey. 

Especially not the person who she had chosen over you. The person who would always be more worthy than you. 

*****

You had known that you weren’t going to fool Christen or Tobin. Both women just knew you too well.

Maybe that’s why you didn’t send your usual check in text after you landed- though you would argue it was because you passed out from exhaustion later. Maybe it was because you weren’t even sure how to put what had happened into words. Every time you tried, they got stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even look yourself in the eyes in your bathroom mirror and say that Lindsey was your soulmate and you were ok with her not wanting you. (not that you spent an hour trying). 

But you should have known that by not sending the little text, it would tip them off more than they already were.

It was something so small, but so fundamental in your relationship with them. It started while you, Lindsey and Tobin were still at PSG. It was a way for her to help you stop the things that were happening, and it included Christen shortly after Tobin had rescued you and Lindsey. 

The curly hair forward had taken to you immediately, and vice versa. So much so that the team teased she was your team mom. But your relationship was so much deeper. You went to her with your worry and for advice when you didn’t know how to navigate a situation, and she cared for you in a way that your own family never had.  

You always texted her because you didn’t want her to worry.

Except this time you hadn’t. 

You had half expected her to show up at your apartment the next morning before practice, a cup of coffee in hand, but all that had been waiting for you was a text, hoping you had gotten back to your studio apartment safely. 

You were grateful that she didn’t. It gave you time to get a handle on the numbness that did everything in its power to consume you. To get a handle on the slowly dying tissue around the sludge in your chest. 

You weren’t surprised Christen was waiting for you, leaning against the front of her car when you pulled up to the practice field, but she didn’t pounce on you the second you got out of the car. 

She let you get out and grab your bag from the front seat, waiting until you were nearly at her car before she pushed off the hood. She paused, gently grasping your shoulders tightly for a long moment, before pulling you into a tight hug. 

The hug you so desperately needed. 

It fought against the cool numbness that seemed content to settle in your veins.

“Hey kid,” She hummed into your hair, squeezing you tightly. 

You leaned into her comfort, burying your head into her neck and hugging her back just as tightly. “Hey,” 

Her hands rubbed up and down your back, letting you cling to her for several long minutes, before very slowly pulling away. She held you at arms length, again searching you for something. 

“You feeling alright?” Her voice was soft, gently, the voice she only used when she was worried. The voice she had used the first time you stepped into Emily’s apartment after Florida. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, smiling tightly up at her. “Just tired. All this flying around the country takes it out of a person,” 

Her shoulders relaxed a bit at your half-hearted attempt at a joke. 

“I’m sure it had nothing at all to do with the shows you put on in Columbus and Chester,” she chuckled, letting you go so the two of you could head towards the practice field. 

“And yet Vlatko is still up my ass like a suppository,” You grumbled, beginning to walk towards the training field.“I think he told me about the U20’s coming to take my sport more times than he talked about tactics,” 

“What else happened at camp?” 

She tried to ask the question casually, but you knew it was anything but. You wondered how much Emily had told her. 

You shrugged. “The usual,” 

“Really?”Christen asked incredulously. “That’s why Emily was sending texts last night to make sure we checked on you?” 

Usually, your first descriptors were of your friends, followed by a story about whatever shenanigans you all had gotten up to. The only time you hadn’t was the camp right after the World Cup. The only time Emily had texted them in warning was right after the World Cup too. 

You couldn’t help the low “traitor” that left your lips. 

“What Emily does is her prerogative,” You grumbled back, pulling your bag more tightly to your shoulder. “And I turned my phone off. I passed out when I got home, and the buzzing kept waking me up,”

Her head tilted to the side. Her and Tobin had only texted you once each. 

“What happened in the groupchat?” She paused, her fingers closing around your wrist and pulling you to a stop. 

You shrugged, finding a pebble under your sneaker more interesting than Christen’s concerned eyes. 

You never wanted her to worry. It made the pit in your stomach bubble. Another reason you would never be worthy of a soulmate. 

“Come on,” She pressed, her other hand catching your chin and gently forcing you to look up. “What’s happening?”

You didn’t miss the double meaning to her words. You rarely did. 

“I’m not sure,” You sighed, only telling a half-truth. “I don’t find a point in keeping up with Lindsey and Mal and their boyfriend drama,” 

You couldn’t help the bitterness that leaked into your voice. It hurt every time she mentioned him in the chat, like she was twisting the dagger in your chest just a little more. Like she was reminding you how much better for her he was. 

Plus the never ending text chain from your brother made you flinch every time you opened your Lock Screen. 

Christen’s eyes studied you for a long minute, before she nodded once. You knew she wasn’t fooled. 

You were afraid if she pressed harder you would crumble. You were thankful she let go of your chin and allowed you to head back towards the field. 

You had no doubt she would be watching you. 

****

Christen hadn’t needed you to forget to send her your normal made it home safe text to know something was wrong. She also hadn’t needed Emily’s heads up. 

She had known something was off before you went to camp, and now, well it was painfully obvious to her that things were getting worse instead of better. There was an odd tension that coated your every movement. A strange hesitance where she had never seen you hesitate before.

But she knew better than to confront you with it, that would only make you slip further back into the shell you had built long ago to protect yourself. It would only make you hide your pain more in some convoluted attempt to protect whoever. It would only make you run. 

She waited and watched and worried her bottom lip as you fumbled your way through warmups. 

It wasn’t that you were playing sloppy. It was that your head just didn't seem in it. You weren’t having fun and it was painfully obvious. 

You didn’t have your characteristic easy smile as drills started. Instead your face was etched with worry lines and stoicism that Christen had only seen from you during the tail end of your time in France. 

“Jesus Christ,” You grumbled as Simone again drove the defenders the wrong way, forcing the little pocket you had found yourself in to close, and cutting off the shot you were trying to set up. 

Christen raised her eyebrow at you, passing you a water as you hit the sidelines. 

You were usually pretty good with the young players, offering advice and rarely snapping when they made mistakes. You liked to teach and you knew people didn’t learn when you yelled at them. 

“They don’t know how to split the fucking defenders and they keep driving everyone towards me,” you explained, gesturing towards the two other forwards Freya had paired you with. “I’ve told them 3 times that the back line will continue to collapse the pockets if they don’t keep their spacing,”

“They’re young,” Christen supplied easily, her eyes tracing your features, noting how much more prominent the dark circles under your eyes were in the streaming sunlight. 

“But they don’t know how to fucking listen,” You huffed, spraying more water into your mouth. “At least Emily and Rose pay attention when I talk,” 

“You, Emily, Rose, and Lindsey have more practice,” She said pointedly, noting the omission of the blond midfielder in your sentence. “They’ve had time to gel with you. The new kids will get it, it’ll just take some time and patience,” 

You rolled your eyes in time with your shoulders, trying to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine at the mere mention of Lindsey’s name. You didn’t have the right to feel the feelings curling uncomfortably in your chest. “We don’t have time, and I’m running out of patience,” 

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. While you weren’t one of the most patient people on the planet, you always showed patients with the young ones. You showed them the same courtesy that you wished someone had shown you. 

“I just want to play, and it’s like they’re not even on my team,” You muttered, earning an even deeper frown. 

She wondered how deep it went. How much it related to whatever happened at camp and not the young LA team. 

“Listen to me,” Christen said gently, grabbing your shoulders, trying to catch your eyes. “We are on your team. What’s going on?”

You closed your eyes, running a frustrated hand through your hair. “It’s not fucking acceptible. I had 18 shots on goal in the game against Uzbekistan, I only scored 5 a piece. I can’t fucking link up with them. It just…” 

You paused, the words seemingly getting stuck in your throat, and you waved your hand helplessly. 

“You’re under a lot of pressure,” She supplied easily, grabbing your hand and squeezing 3 times. A silent I Love You, but it didn’t loosen the knot in your chest.  

“I was fucking distracted. It’s not acceptable,” You huffed, running another hand through your already tousled hair. It was hard to focus when all you saw every time you closed your eyes was a mix of blue and blonde. It was hard to focus when all you could do was dissect every interaction you had out of fear you were too close or not close enough. You didn’t know how to be without Lindsey, but you couldn’t act like she wanted you to. “I need-“

“To relax,” Christen cut you off gently, her eyes searching you for a clue at what was bothering you, for a peek inside your head, for a reason you were so tense. “You need to relax,”

You blew out a long breath. You had always played your best when you were relaxed, dancing in the locker room with your friends before a game. It was hard when you were struggling to even call your best friend your friend anymore. 

“What’s got you so wound?” She asked you, worry evident in her tone. “What’s going on in that head of yours,” 

Things didn’t usually turn out well when you internalized your emotions. You buried your feelings until they boiled over, and your favorite target for that pain was yourself. The scars on your legs and back were proof of that. 

“I just-,” You sighed, shaking your head and chewing your lip, glancing towards your teammates (none of which had earned your unyielding trust). “It’s complicated,” 

Christen sighed, glancing towards the team behind you. She understood your hesitancy to talk in front of them. You were hesitant enough when no one was watching. 

“How about you come over for dinner, I’ll have Tobin make your favorite and we can chat and relax over some wine?” The striker offered you gently, squeezing your arm. 

“Yeah,” You sighed, leaning into the hand, taking any support you could get. “Dinner would be nice,” 

****

As it turned out, dinner was nice. Tobin made you Mac and cheese and Christen poured you a too expensive glass of wine, and you couldn’t help but relax as they chatted about their latest re-inc project. 

It was nice to let them distract you, even if it felt a bit like you were under a microscope. They were just so good at reading you. 

But no one had mentioned what they saw yet. No one had mentioned how often your phone buzzed, or how you sunk a bit anytime they ventured towards the topic of the team. 

You blew out a long breath, taking a short sip of your wine, resting your elbows on the railing of Tobin’s balcony. 

The Los Angeles skyline twinkled below you, nearly as good as Portland, but not quite. 

At least it didn’t make your chest ache like you knew the Koin Center and Wells Fargo building would. 

You couldn’t look at them without thinking of her. Your life was so intertwined with hers that you feared it would be like that anywhere you went. 

But that was your problem. Not Lindsey’s. 

You sighed, pulling another long sip of your wine as the glass door slid open behind and a familiar presence settled beside you. 

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. 

“Thanks for dinner,” You mumbled, swirling your wine around your glass, wishing it was something stronger instead. “Mama Heath’s Mac and cheese is always the best,”

“No problem,” Tobin shrugged, and it was easy. Familiar. “I’ll have to tell her you think so,”

“Sorry, I’m not great company,” You muttered, sipping your glass. 

You felt Tobin shrug. “We just want you to know we’re here for you,” 

You nodded. You did know that they were there for you. They had always been there for you. Tobin had helped you in France, acting as a shield between you and the coaching staff. She had worked with Emily to find you after France and remind you that it wasn’t soccer that you hated. Christen had been the one to orchestrate your trade to LA after things got too weird for you in Portland. 

They had always been there to help you pick up the pieces of yourself and work through your emotions. They were the family you never had. 

But they were Lindsey’s family too. 

You didn’t want them to turn on her because of you, but you felt like you had to tell someone what was happening. Like finally saying it out loud would quell the chilling acid in your chest. 

And if anyone would understand it was Tobin. 

“I met my soulmate,” you admitted softly, sipping the last bit of wine out of your glass. 

“I would congratulate you, but I’m sensing a but,” She breathed out, and you felt her eyes in the side of your face. 

Worried and not judgemental. 

Your lips tilted up at the answer. “She doesn’t want to be my soulmate,” 

“Did she tell you that?” Tobin pressed, gently taking the glass from your hand. 

It was only then that you realized how tightly you clutched the fragile edge. 

“She has a boyfriend, and she loves him. She’s made it incredibly clear,” You couldn’t keep the bitter edge out of your voice, a look at the gaping wound in your chest, oozing every time you so much as thought about it. 

“Damn,” Tobin sighed, placing both of your glasses on the balcony table and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Is she someone we know?”

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger playing with a crack in the balcony’s handrail, debating whether or not you were going to tell her more. Debating if you would risk them turning on Lindsey. “I get to see her all the time,” 

“That sucks,” She agreed. 

You hummed. 

It did suck. Really sucked. 

What sucked worse was that you had agreed to be her friend afterward. They always said it was better to have your soulmate in some capacity than none, but God did it fucking hurt. It was like she had to prove how much better her boyfriend was than you, and you hated the feeling in the pit of your stomach when she showed that she was right. 

You should be able to be an adult about this. 

But you just…. Couldn’t. 

You let the silence linger between you, feeling more comfortable than you had in weeks in Tobin’s presence. 

If anyone understood, she did. You knew that. 

“Christen was dating someone when you dreamt with her for the first time, wasn’t she?” You asked softly, keeping your eyes on the Las Angeles skyline, and trying to ignore her sharp intake of breath. 

Tobin swallowed hard, squeezing your shoulder, seemingly trying to gain the strength to answer you. 

“She was,” She admitted, and you heard the strain in her voice. 

You blinked at her honesty, finally looking up at her thoughtful expression. “How did you work through that?”

“We were in college. We were rivals more than anything else,” She explained, grimacing slightly at what you assumed was embarrassment or pain at the memory. “It changed after we got to go to camp together. We were drawn together like magnets, and at some point, she wasn’t dating him anymore and I was available so it just kind of happened,” 

You nodded, your lips forming a thin line, your heart sinking just a bit. 

Lindsey knew you and had decided she didn’t want to be your soulmate. You were friends. She knew you and had decided that you weren’t good enough. 

“Does it ever go away?” The question was soft, and vulnerable as it left your lips. 

“The weight in your stomach?” Tobin asked you gently. You nodded once and she squinted, taking a long second to find the answer. “Mine didn’t leave until we were together for a while,” 

“Did she feel it too?” You asked. 

It was the question you wanted to know since you had the dream. Did she feel the same sludge in her chest that you did? Was she in the same pain you were? Was she avoiding sleep too? 

“I don’t think that’s a me question,” Tobin said slowly, and you felt yourself deflate just a bit. “It’s not something Chris and I talk about a lot, but I know that we were both hurting in different ways,” 

“I think it would be easier if she didn’t want to be friends,” You admitted. It made you feel guilty that part of you wished you didn't know Lindsey. That you didn’t share the history you did. “At least then I wouldn’t have to hear about him,” 

You missed Tobins furrowed eyes as she tried to figure out exactly who it was. She knew better than to ask, that would only cause you to pull away. 

“I felt that way too, but I think the silence was worse in the end,” She answered after a long second. 

You blinked up at her, pulling out of her embrace just far enough to see her expression. “How did you deal with it?”

She chuckled darkly. “I didn’t,”  

You could understand why someone wouldn't. You didn’t want to deal with it either, but it felt like you were being forced to. 

“I cut her off completely, which wasn’t a problem until we were on the same team,” Tobin continued, shaking her head. 

You nodded, understanding the feeling. If only it were that simple. Lindsey was competitive and stubborn, and you knew she wouldn’t let you cut her off. Not after you already agreed that nothing would be different. 

Tobin squeezed your shoulder as if could feel your pain. 

“Just tell her how you feel,” She suggested gently, “sometimes all it takes is a conversation,” 

“It’s Lindsey,” You snorted, shaking your head. “She already knows how I feel,” 

There was an unspoken- and she still didn’t want me- that hung in the air. 

You barely heard Tobin’s “Oh,” but you felt her squeeze you even tighter. 

“Yeah, oh,” You sighed miserably. 

“I mean, I’m not surprised you two are soulmates,” Tobin said, her chin resting on top of your head. “You’ve been pining after each other forever,” 

You chuckled bitterly. You had been tied at the hip since you were 17, dancing the line between friends and something more, crossing that line more times than you’d like to admit. “Except now she has a boyfriend, and she doesn’t want things to change between us,” 

“Except things have changed,” Tobin supplied, holding you closer. 

“I promised her they wouldn’t,” You mumbled. 

Tobin blew out a long breath. “That’s tough kid,” 

And you wondered if that was the crux of your pain. Would it feel different if you hadn’t said yes? Would it hurt less? 

A long silence stretched between you, comforting in a way that words wouldn’t have been, and you glanced back through the door to see Christen working too hard on drying a plate. 

“Just,” Tobin said slowly, shaking her head as if she knew something you didn’t. “Just tell her how you feel, and give her some time. She’ll come around,” 

You hummed, neither agreeing or disagreeing. You doubted she would ever see you for more than her friend. You doubted she would ever deem you worthy enough to be her soulmate. 

“Do you think Christen is done with the dishes? Or is she waiting for your signal?” You asked instead of arguing with her. Arguing wouldn’t do you any good. 

You appreciated their subtlety, but you knew the striker had to be stalling. 

Tobin shrugged, unfazed at getting caught. “She knows it’s easier for you to talk to me, but she’s worried too. Especially about the way your phone has been blowing up,” 

You cringed. You were hoping that they wouldn’t bring it up, despite how often it had interrupted your dinner. “People think if they harass me, I’ll be more likely to answer and say yes,” 

Tobin let out a low snort. “They obviously don’t know you’re more inclined to destroy it than answer,” 

“At least I didn’t throw it off a pier this time,” You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t want to talk about your phone, or your brother’s inability to take a fucking hint. You knew Tobin would be less inclined to let you avoid explanation. 

She squeezed your shoulder. “I know you don’t want to talk about whatever, but Just know Chris and I are here for you, no matter what,” 

You gulped but nodded nonetheless.

“Are you going to tell her?” 

The question was soft, hesitant, and showed the vulnerability you were reluctant to ever express. 

“You know we don’t keep secrets from each other,” Tobin reminded you gently. 

You swallowed again. You knew transparency was important to them. That they never kept secrets from each other. “I just don’t want her to lose you guys,” 

Tobin sighed heavily. 

It was just like you to try to help Lindsey even if it killed you, to ensure that she would be ok despite how much she had already hurt you.  

“Neither of you will lose us,” She said finally, pulling you tighter to her. “But I won’t let her mistreat you either,” 

You hummed, burying your face in her neck, accepting the comfort it was clear you needed. 

“Come on kid. Chris got chocolate cake because she knows it’s your favorite,” Tobin said, patting your back. “We can have a movie night and you can crash here if you want,”

You hummed, nodding into her neck. “That would be nice,” 

You knew she was asking for her own peace of mind. She knew you better than you knew yourself. She knew you would spiral if they let you. 

And you would let yourself be protected. 

*****

You would never get used to the feeling of waking up in a shared dream. The weird way the colors blended, and you were overcome with the most potent form of dejavu you had ever encountered. 

The world blurred into focus. Like you were spinning too fast and then suddenly came to a stop. Like you were seeing the world upside down and suddenly it was right side up. 

It made you want to vomit, despite the aching slush being absent from your stomach. 

It killed you as your eyes opened, because everything felt right, and you knew that it was anything but. It was only a matter of time before you were reminded of how unworthy of your soulmate you were. 

You sighed, closing your fingers around the soft grass underneath you. The bed that was softer than your real childhood bed. The safe space that had always welcomed you until you moved to france. 

You let out a low breath, loathe to sit up and actually face the woman you knew was beside you. 

This place was too sacred for you to desecrate. You tried to remember that you were really on Tobin and Christen’s couch, tucked under one of their blankets like you had been for the last 3 weeks. You tried to remember that nothing that happened here would be real. 

“How is this grass so soft?”

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter at her voice, hoping that you could make it hurt less if you didn’t look at her. 

“Mr. Barns used to water it by hand,” You said softly, remembering the summer days your mother kicked you out of the house at 6 and didn’t let you back in until well past dinner. If she let you back in. “I helped him sometimes in the summer. He would give me lunch,” 

She hummed, and you felt her settle down beside you, so your arms were nearly touching.  “You don’t talk about your childhood a lot,”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin where her elbow brushed you, and you gulped. “I don’t like to think about it. It wasn’t a normal childhood,” 

“Did any of us have a normal childhood?” Lindsey countered, trying to copy what you and her had deemed Tobins wise old lady voice. 

It made you shiver. She knew how bad your childhood was. She had heard the stories of the horror stories that haunted you at night. 

You cleared your throat, averting your gaze. “I used to sleep out here sometimes. It was easier than going home,” 

You ran your hand over the grass as if to prove your point. 

“Why am I not surprised you preferred to sleep on a soccer field as a kid,” Lindsey snorted, and you bit your lip to avoid cringing. 

She made it sound like you had chosen to sleep on the field. Like your mother hadn’t given you the choice of being locked in a closet or sleeping outside. 

“Yeah,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t like to talk about it,” 

Lindsey made a noise in the back of her throat, too focused on picking a blade of grass. “How about we talk about the radio silence then,” 

You stiffened, your back going rigid. “Everyone’s just lucky I didn’t throw my phone off Tobin’s balcony,” 

Lindsey chuckled as though you were being sarcastic (you weren’t). “That many girls have been blowing you up?”

Your head tilted to the side, and your eyebrows furrowed without your consent. You didn’t understand her fascination with your sex life. Not that you had one. Not since France…

“What girls?” 

It slipped past your lips before you could think to stop it, confusion clear in your voice. 

Lindsey scoffed. “You can’t seriously tell me that you haven’t been hooking up. You haven't answered any of my calls or texts,” 

Her voice was almost… possessive. Your frown deepened, and you shook away the thought. There was no way, right? It wouldn’t make sense with how she had her very own boyfriend. 

“My brother has been harassing me. I shoved it in my sock drawer to dampen the sound,” You said, your voice softer than you expected it to be. 

A byproduct of your inner surprise you told yourself. Definitely not because you needed her to know that there was no one else for you. Definitely not because it made the sludge in your chest suddenly reappear when she mentioned that she thought you were seeing other people. 

It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t fair. But what out of any of this had been?

“Oh,” Lindsey muttered, her fingers catching the grass and rolling it between her fingers, and you could have sworn you saw her nose crinkle at the mention of him. “What does he want?”

Your shoulders lifted and fell, both because you didn’t want to answer the question and because you wished she had been dejected for another reason. You wished she cared enough to be bothered that it wasn’t just her you were ignoring. Instead, she looked relieved. 

“I’m not taking his calls,” You answered your voice more horse than you intended it to be, showing more emotions than you wanted to. “He’s an asshole,” 

Lindsey paused at your characterization, her shoulders slumping in a way you didn’t quite understand. “Am I an asshole too?” 

You could see how she made the jump, but that wasn’t why you were avoiding her. It just hurt too much to hear how wonderful Ty was to her. How he was so much better than you. 

Really, it had been Christen's suggestion after a particularly bad day had nearly sent you into a panic attack and you wouldn’t tell her why. It was bad enough that you had spilled your guts to Tobin. They didn’t need to know the pressure your brother was putting on you. 

You shook your head. “You’re not trying to guilt trip me into doing things I don’t want to,”

It was technically the truth, though it wasn’t entirely accurate. You didn’t want to pretend like everything was fine, but it was nothing in comparison to your brother’s request. His demand. His inability to take no for an answer. 

“What does he want you to do?” 

You felt Lindsey’s eyes on the side of your face, and the concern seeping through her words. It nearly caught you off guard. It nearly let your brain slip into the place where you could convince yourself that the thing between you hadn’t changed. That she cared about you in the way you cared about her. 

You gulped, finally gaining the courage to look up from the grass and meet her eyes. They were burning blue, just as they had been so many times before. Protective in a way that only Lindsey could be. Loved in a way that you had only felt when you were with her. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

It made you feel like she cared. As a friend you reminded yourself. 

Only a friend. 

“It’s complicated,” You finally settled on the phrase. 

“More complicated than Florida?” She fired back like she already had the remark prepared. 

You cringed. She probably did. You hated that Florida had become her litmus test for you, even when the situations were entirely unrelated. 

Your brother had Ignored you while you were in Florida. The only person you spoke to was Emily when the nurse wouldn’t let you check out of the hospital on your own. That was the only reason anyone knew anything. 

You hated that Lindsey couldn’t seem to let it go. 

“It’s different,” You hedged carefully, rolling a blade of grass between your fingers. “He’s asking me to forget that they didn’t want me,” 

You didn’t think it was fair for him to try to leverage your mother's dying wish against you, even after all of the shit she had done. And you tried not to think about how much Lindsey didn’t want you. 

Lindsey frowned, and you could see the wheels turning in her head. 

She reached over and caught your hand, oblivious to the shivers it sent through your spine and how even the small touch made goosebumps appear in her wake. 

Your head jerked up to meet her blue. “It would be their loss. Not yours,” 

You gulped, trying not to focus on how the words felt like she was twisting the knife in your chest just a bit, or how the place where her hand touched your arm felt like it was on fire. 

It wasn’t a fair statement. How could it be when she didn't even want you, and she was tied to you? You wanted to ask if it was her loss. 

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. 

It was the safest response you could muster. One that wouldn’t force her to reinforce how much she didn’t want you. One that would allow you to delude yourself into thinking she cared. 

Lindsey sighed. 

She had always been good at reading you. 

“You promised me nothing would change,” She mumbled, and you shrunk a bit. Her voice was soft, caring, and concerned. It lured you in. 

You shook your head. “Things haven’t changed,” 

The words felt like acid in your throat. You could hear the thinness in them. The lie. 

Everything had changed.

You knew Lindsey heard it too. Her raised eyebrow told you as much. 

You sighed, “I’m trying, alright?” 

It was too soft. Too vulnerable. 

And you watched Lindsey’s face change. 

“It shouldn’t be so hard,” She gritted out, and you flinched at the sudden ice in her voice. The edge waiting to slice you open. “Why can’t you just be normal? We’re friends.”

You gulped down the retort on the top of your tongue. The words that would blow everything wide open. 

You and Lindsey had always been on the edge of friends. Friends didn’t do the things the two of you did. 

“I’m just…-“ You paused, looking down at her hand still on your arm. “I have a lot going on. I’m doing my best,” 

You repeated the words that Christen had given you, and you felt Lindsey relax. Her fingers tightened around your forearm. 

“Just remember you’re not alone,” 

Your head tilted to the side. You knew those words were carefully chosen as well. 

“I’ll try,” You sighed, pulling away and willing yourself to wake up. It didn’t hurt so much when you could pretend she didn’t care. When you couldn’t see the concern etched across her features. “I’m trying,” 

Her fingers tightened around your arm as the scene faded away like she was trying to keep you there, even as you jerked into consciousness. 

You could have sworn she was saying something. A part of you wanted to know what it was, but the larger part of you was grateful that you didn’t. 

No matter what it was, it would make everything hurt that much worse. The ache in your chest was already unbearable most days. 

You sighed, running your knuckles into the place where your heart throbbed, pushing yourself up off of the couch. 

It was worse when she pretended like she cared, even when you knew she didn’t. Not in the way you wanted her to. 

You ran a hand through your hair, grabbing a stray ball that way laying around and heading towards the door. Hopefully, some practice would quell the gnawing hole slowly growing in your chest. 

All you could do was try. 

*******

You thought you understood exhaustion when you were in France. You thought you understood it during your second season when you played every minute you were available in Portland. you thought you understood it at the very end of last camp. 

In the 4 months since you had your first shared dream, you realized that there was an entirely new level of weariness and fatigue beyond anything you had ever experienced. It settled deep into your bones, replacing your normal energy with lead. It ate away at your soul, and you feared that when all was said and done there would be nothing of yourself left. 

You knew that was the consequence of being rejected by your soulmate, of not being good enough for your soulmate, and of your refusal to sleep. You couldn’t share dreams if you didn’t have them. 

You would slowly lose everything that made you yourself. 

What was more shocking to you was that your on-field performance hadn’t wavered, despite the wide berth the team gave you when you weren’t on the pitch. It had only gotten better, according to every commentator in the NWSL. 

You supposed it made sense, the suffocation of your soul leading to a more cold and calculating performance. Or maybe it was just your pain coming out in aggression toward the unfortunate defenders that you played against. 

Either way, you were having the season of your life, and you were hating every single moment of it. 

“I’m not going,” You mumbled, as you pulled your shin guards out of your socks, barely looking up at Christen. “You can tell Kelley I got sick or whatever, but I don’t want to deal with it,” 

It took effort to look up, and you knew it would just show her how little sleep you were getting despite their insistence that you stay on their couch. 

It would also take effort to go to dinner with Kelley and Emily after the game and to pretend like you weren’t slowly disintegrating from the inside out.  

“Or you can tell her and Emily yourself,” The striker countered, settling down on the bench next to you, careful not to touch you as you had been particularly sensitive after your last shared dream. “Unless you skip the game, you’re going to see them,” 

You cursed under your breath, tossing your guards into your bag with too much force. Why couldn’t things ever be easy?  “Freya won’t let me skip the Washington game,” 

“Not a chance,” Tobin agreed, settling down on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. 

You had been playing too well for your coach to let you sit out without giving a good reason, and trying to explain that you didn’t want to see your friends because your soulmate was your other friend and she had a fucking boyfriend wasn’t something you wanted to do. No matter how nice the coach was. 

“Damn it,” You grumbled, leaning back on the wall beside your locker with a thump. It was almost too much for your tired brain to work through. 

You had partially forgotten that you would see Kelley and Emily at the game as well as after. 

It was once in a season that you got to play Kelley and Emily in LA, so of course, they wanted to hang out after the game. Normally you would be excited to see your best friend and her soulmate, but since your last shared dream with Lindsey, you were dreading it. 

Hell, you had been dreading it since you started ignoring your phone. 

You loved Emily and Kelley, but they were too perceptive for their own good. They would ask questions you didn’t want to answer and slowly pry the truth from you. Then they would hate Lindsey, and that wasn’t fair to her. 

She had been friends with Lindsey longer than she had been friends with you after all. 

Or it was possible that they both already knew. That Lindsey had already told them, and they were just waiting for the right opportunity to tell you how much they agreed with her. To confirm what you already knew, that you were unworthy of your soulmate. 

You could still feel the tingle of Lindsey’s fingers on your arm, her words “it would be their loss” still lingered in your brain like a bad cough despite them being spoken nearly two weeks ago. 

You shivered. 

Either way, you couldn’t face them. You couldn’t deal with the possibilities. You couldn’t bear to see Emily’s disappointed gaze. You wouldn’t be able to stand it if you lost her too, despite the way you were pushing her away. 

There was a reason you had called her when you were in Florida instead of anyone else. A reason that you had clung to her afterward. 

She treated you like you were normal. Despite almost drowning in Florida. Despite her having to check you out of the hospital. Despite you running away in France after you and Lindsey almost-... 

“It’ll be fun,” Christen said, nudging your shoulder. “we’ll talk about Bagel and the Spirit drama, and all you have to do is smile and nod,”

“She’ll hate me when she finds out,” you groaned, scrubbing your eyes, your nails digging and scraping at the skin above your eyebrows. You were never good at hiding things from Emily or Kelley for that matter. 

You should be able to be reasonable and be Lindsey’s friend. You should be able to respect her wishes. She was right, it shouldn’t be so hard. 

But it just hurt so fucking much. It didn’t matter how nice she was about it, every interaction felt like a knife slipping between your ribs and into the soft, vulnerable tissue, twisting unrelentingly, intent on bleeding you out. 

Christen caught your hands, carefully pulling them away from your eyes and laying them flat against her thigh. She rubbed soothing circles on the back of your palm. “No one will hate you,”

“You’re not the one who is being malicious,” Tobin added, in a tone that made you believe she 100% thought someone was. 

You frowned. Lindsey hadn’t done anything outright yet. Well, anything besides telling you that she loved her boyfriend, and while that hurt you, it wasn’t a direct shot across the bow. It also wasn’t anything deserving of Tobin’s direct ire. 

You regretted telling the midfielder-turned-winger about the back-and-forth game Lindsey seemed to enjoy. You regretted telling her how much it hurt you to not understand. To know exactly where you stood, the place you had always stood with Lindsey, in the blurry no man's land between friend and more than friend. A place filled with landmines and barbed wire poised to destroy you at the first misstep. 

You had already been cut more times than you’d like to admit. 

You pulled your hand out of her grip, running it through your messy curls, serving only to make them more wild. You hadn’t had the energy to style it, but now you were regretting that decision. It would be a bitch to fix later. 

You felt Christen and Tobin share a look over your head, communicating without words. You wanted to ask if that was a soulmate thing or just a preath thing because you doubted you would ever be in a place with Lindsey where you would be able to find out on your own. 

“Lindsey might not have told them yet,” Christen said gently. You felt her eyes return to the side of your face, and her fingers carefully weaved into your hair beginning to undo the knots. “And we don’t have to tell them either,” 

Tobin’s hand found the back of your neck, digging into the knot that always appeared there. You sighed. Their efforts at coercion were rather effective, especially with the three hours of sleep you had gotten (despite their best efforts).  

“But what if she did?” You asked, your voice showing more vulnerability than you wanted. “What if she told Emily that I wasn’t keeping my promise? That I wasn’t being a good friend?”

Tobin snorted, shaking her head. 

It was difficult for her to wrap her head around how you thought anyone would be upset with you in this situation. How you thought that any of this was your fault. 

“Kelley will be upset if any of this hurts Emily,” You said, softer. You knew how protective the older defender was, especially of her soulmate. 

It was one of the first things you learned about Kelley. She would murder anyone who hurt Emily. 

You were in pain, but you didn’t want to die. Not yet at least. 

Not by Kelley’s hand. 

“We will deal with Kelley,” Christen reassured you, sharing another look with Tobin. On the off chance that Kelley was upset, all it would take would be to mention the word soulmate and she would back off. 

It wasn’t just her soulmate she was protective of. 

“I don’t want anyone to fight,” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut yet again, hoping it would help the heaviness in them. 

It didn't. 

Your phone buzzed obnoxiously in your bag because god forbid you get 30 seconds of peace. 

You wished you hadn’t told Lindsey about the calls, even Christen and Tobin hadn’t been able to pry it out of you. You wished you hadn’t used it as your excuse, because it felt like another thing that she could hold over you. 

“I just,” You blew out a shaky breath. “I want everything to go back to what it was before I had the stupid, fucking dream,” 

At least then you hadn’t had to face the feelings that continually bubbled in your chest. It had been easy to pretend that you didn’t want something more from Lindsey, something she would never give you outside the privacy of shared hotel rooms and fleeting nights in apartments. 

It was easy to pretend that her denials hadn’t been slowly unraveling you. That you hadn’t been self-destructing since well before the dream. 

“Avoiding sleep to avoid her isn’t helping you,” Christen said softly like she was speaking to a small child. It should have irritated you, but it didn’t. It made warmth bloom in your chest. “And neither is avoiding whoever is constantly calling you,” 

“How about we go home, and you can nap,” Tobin suggested, equally as gently, backing off. “And then you can decide if you want to get ‘sick’ after the game when you wake up?” 

You nodded, pulling your sweatshirt over your head. Thorns practice was about to begin, so it would be safe. 

She wouldn’t be able to follow you, and maybe you would finally get some peace.

Tobin's arm landed heavily on your shoulder as they guided you out of the locker room, and you leaned into her, hoping they would be able to drive the dreams away. 

If your soulmate wasn’t going to look out for you, they would. 

***** you sucked in a long breath as you blinked into consciousness, shifting awkwardly in your chair. 

You frowned. You had never entered one of the dreams sitting, and you idly wondered if the position was due to how you were leaning on Christen’s shoulder as you fell asleep. 

You shifted again in the chair, your fingers falling on the engraved trim, your eyes darted to the wood, painted a shiny gold. You dragged your eyes up the white tablecloth, accented with deep red napkins to the Crystal glasses and gold-rimmed plates. Several forks and spoons flanked the plate, glinting in the dim light of the table. 

Beyond your plate was a vase, filled to the brim with dark red roses, their color so vivid they looked like they were dripping, bleeding. Much like your heart you supposed. 

You shifted again in the chair, straightening your bow tie. 

You frowned. You never wore ties. 

“What the hell?” You mumbled, your fingers dragging down the satin lapels of the tux you were wearing, towards the shiny red vest that matched the tie. 

It was too much. Too fancy. Not at all something you would ever choose for yourself. 

“The restaurant had a dress code,” 

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lindsey’s piercing blue just beyond the roses, and you lost your breath. 

She was stunning. 

Her hair shimmered like gold in the low light, pulled to one side, cascading down her shoulder. You fought to keep your eyes from trailing down the plunging neckline of her shiny black dress, focusing instead on the sparkling diamond necklace around her neck. You dragged your eyes up to her red-painted lips and finally met her eyes. 

They burned into your soul as she casually sipped her wine like she was trying to read your mind. 

“I thought you said dress codes were a no-go,” You muttered, your head tilting to the side. “It’s why you wouldn’t go to the French Laundry with me while we were in New York. You said it was too posh,” 

She hummed, sipping her wine slowly, making you wait. “Ty took me out for our anniversary. He wanted to make it nice,” 

You swallowed hard, reaching for a glass of water to help your suddenly dry throat. 

Of course, she had gone out to fancy dinners with him. Of course, she was dressed up for him. You gulped down the sudden jealousy in your throat. 

She was dating him. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous. But the thought of her dressing in something for him made the sludge in your chest roll. 

You wondered if you were in the outfit that he had worn to impress her. You wondered if seeing you in it made you feel the way her dress made you feel. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” You asked carefully, placing the water glass back on the table. 

It took everything in you to keep your voice calm, level. To pretend. 

She hummed. “It was ok. The steak was overpriced and the wine was dry,” 

Your nose scrunched. You knew that Lindsey didn’t like the pomp of fancy restaurants. That she preferred tacos and margaritas to 500$ steaks. That she liked light, floral cocktails instead of pretentious wine. 

It made you wonder why he didn’t know that. 

“Sounds too fancy for me,” 

You settled on the comment. It was safe, easy, almost normal. 

She snorted. “It was too fancy for me too. Ty picked it,”

You wanted to ask why. If it was their anniversary, shouldn’t he have done something she wanted to do?

You swallowed your question, your comment, smiling pleasantly at her instead. At least you got to be with her like this.  “It’s nice he’s being so cool about all of this,” 

She paused, her wine glass pressed to her lips, taking too long of a sip before setting it down, swirling the red liquid around the glass. “Yeah,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, noting how her eyes didn’t meet yours and her fingers tapped the rim of the glass. 

“You haven’t told him yet,” 

It was a statement of fact, incredulous in its delivery, but proven by the way her teeth closed around her bottom red-painted lip. 

You didn’t know why you were surprised. Why would she tell him? Keeping it a secret was an entirely Lindsey thing to do. 

Still, it made you feel dirty. A secret. Something to be ashamed of.

“Why would I tell him?” Her lips curled around the question dangerously.“Nothing has changed,” 

You frowned at that. Everything had changed, whether she wanted to admit it or not. He deserved to know that his girlfriend was seeing another person in her dreams. That you were tied to her for the rest of your life. 

“Because I am your soulmate, Lindsey,” You said as though it was obvious, unable to stop it as it slipped past your lips. “Does that mean nothing to you?” 

“We are friends,” She gritted out, emphasizing the words. “I have a-,“ 

“Boyfriend that you love, yes I’ve heard,” You spat back, waving your hand dismissively. It was an old argument, and frankly, you were tired of it. “What are you going to do when he finds his soulmate? I’m not some fucking consolation prize,”

“That’s not. We’re not” She stuttered, her blue eyes wide, but you still couldn’t stop. 

“We’re not what Lindsey?” You asked, bitterness creeping into your voice. Bitterness you hadn’t shown her before. “We’ve been dancing around this since we were 16. We’ve kissed more times than I can count. We would have fucked again after the World Cup if Kelley hadn’t knocked on the fucking door, or did you forget that part of our relationship,” 

She shook her head, shoving herself up from the table, but you followed her. 

You knew you were pushing her, but you couldn’t be ignored. You felt like a volcano erupting, the words bubbling out of you like lava. “How long have you known I was in love with you? How long have you used that to get me to bend to your will? Friends don’t do the things that we do!” 

You watched her face morph from shock to anger. Her features hardened before your eyes. 

You had pushed too far. 

“Look, it’s not my fault that you’ve incorporated me into some gay fantasy of yours. We’re friends,” She hissed and you recoiled like you had been slapped. 

The words felt like venom, her voice the needle injecting it straight into your veins. 

“What?” 

It was the only word you could think of as your brain tried to process what she was saying. As she used the words your mother had used against you when she kicked you out. 

“It’s your pattern,” She said, her lips curling. “You did it with Tobin in France. You did it with Emily in Portland. I’m just the next poor soul on your list,” 

“No Sonnett is my friend-“ you stumbled over your words, trying to order your thoughts, but she cut you off with a vicious smirk. “And you and her were fucking until she found Kelley,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. you had never slept with Emily. She had been hung up on Kelley just like you we stuck in Lindsey. The only difference was that her and Kelley hadn’t blurred the line like you and Lindsey did. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“She was the one who found you in Florida. You shared her one-bedroom apartment, and you followed Tobin around like a lost puppy in France,” 

“Tobin helped me stop our coach from molesting both of us Lindsey,” You ground out, your voice shaking. “Tobin made sure he didn’t fucking kill me with the extra training sessions and lack of food. If anything, she was the one following me around.” 

Your chest heaved, but you weren’t finished. “Emily only knows about Florida because they wouldn’t let me check out of the hospital after I went surfing drunk. She didn’t want me to be alone while I was dealing with the fallout of You. We have never slept together,” 

You couldn’t help the way you sneered around the word. You couldn’t help how your fist clenched in the table cloth, shifting the too-expensive dining set. 

You wanted her to acknowledge you. 

“That’s not the point,” She bit back. 

“Then what is?” You asked, your hand hitting the table, all of your feelings finally pouring out. “I fucking love you. And I thought that you felt the same. We were back in that godforsaken city and you were kissing me. We would have-“ You shook your head, your voice turning earnest. “It was almost perfect,”

Silence hung between you, punctuated only by your heavy breathing. 

Her lips pressed tightly together, and you thought maybe you had gotten through to her. But something flashed in her eyes and her features hardened. She picked up her wine glass and swirled the red liquid around. 

“I am not gay,” She grit the words out, looking away from you as if she didn’t care about the damage she would inflict and sipping her glass. “I don’t love you, and it’s not my fault that you caught feelings,” 

You let the words sink in. Let them permeate your chest like acid, and erode the final bit of your aching heart. A cool numbness was already spreading out from the wound like you had been shot. 

You knew it was too good to be true during the World Cup. That her pursuit of you, her willingness to be around the team with you was nothing more than a fling. A whim caused by the bubble and excitement. 

You cleared your throat, closed your eyes, and hoped to wake up so you could release your emotions in peace. “I can’t keep my promise,” 

******

Lindsey jolted awake, her eyes snapping open, all of her nerves on edge like she had been dumped in ice water. Her breathing came in short pants as she sat up, her hand pressing into her eyes. 

She had never heard of people being so… jarred by the dreams they shared with their soulmates. She had never heard of them ending so abruptly.

Then again, most people didn’t try to deny their soulmate. 

She let out a breath, grinding her palms into her eyes further, trying to un-sear your blank expression from her mind. 

She knew that look well. You used it every time you had to deal with your family or your PSG coach. It was your way of shielding yourself. Of pulling away so nothing could hurt you. 

She had never had that look directed at her, and it made her soul ache. 

She had never planned on hurting you, it had just kind of… happened. 

The relief that had flooded through her the moment she saw you for the first time in her dreams was indescribable. It was like the moment your goalie makes a save in a PK shootout. No. It was more. It was the moment you score after the save. 

But then she remembered. She could feel her parents' words etched into her very existence. 

She was meant to grow up and find the man of her dreams. Her knight in shining armor. 

Her mother had filled her head from the time she was small with stories of princes sweeping her off her feet. Her father had told her about the strapping young man who would make all of her dreams come true one day. The young man who she would share everything with, including her sleep. 

And both of her parents dismissed her queries about what would happen if her soulmate wasn’t a man. They had waved away her questions with easy quotes from the Bible and their pastor, and they had drilled into her head that all of her “teenage feelings” were just a phase. 

She was convinced she would outgrow them, but then. Well, then she met you. 

And you made her question everything. 

It wasn’t just that you were smart and funny and gorgeous. It was how kind your heart was. How you would give up the world to make her smile on a bad day. It was how your tough exterior had cracked just for her. 

It made butterflies erupt in her chest and tingles followed everywhere you touched. You made her feel warm and seen and… she couldn’t help but give in to those feelings. 

At first, it was in small ways, sharing your bed in France (something that brought you both immense comfort), stealing small kisses and light touches in the underbelly of stadiums. Little things that had grown into more, until the lines were so blurred she didn’t know where you stopped and she began. 

All that you had been missing was a label, so she conveniently picked one that didn’t make her afraid. One her parents wouldn’t question. 

You were her friend and the secret benefits attached never needed to be mentioned.

She pushed her feelings for you away under the ruse of platonicity. 

It was easy. It was doable. 

Until the two of you were roomed together in the bubble, trapped in a country that gave the both of you nightmares. 

She finally let herself give in to the feelings in her chest. She let her touches linger, no matter who could see. She let herself joke and enjoy your bright smiles in front of her friends. She let herself let go of the fear that being caught staring and watching still evoked. 

You looked so kissable in the locker room after the final, bragging about your game-winning goal, your dimples poking out. You looked so kissable in your stupid goggles, covered in champagne. And she…

Lindsey just couldn’t help herself. 

She hadn’t thought twice about pulling you into a spare equipment closet. She hadn’t thought twice about the way your lips pressed together or the heat that built between you in seconds. She hadn’t thought about her roving hands and how good you felt until…

If Kelley hadn’t knocked on the door, there was no telling how far the two of you would have gone. 

As you broke apart, staring at her like she hung the moon and the stars and… reality finally hit her. She couldn’t have you and keep her family. The lines were too blurred and before she could think, words were falling from her lips, matching your falling expression. she was kicking you out and you looked...hurt was too simple of a word to describe it. 

That was where her options had ended. 

You disappeared into the night, only reappearing to get on the plane, attend a parade, and then you were gone again. 

It only reinforced the lessons her parents had taught her. She would find a reliable man to support her. A man who would care for her and follow her. A man who would help her give her parents grandchildren. 

And she had. 

She sighed heavily, glancing to her left where he lay, sound asleep. 

He was good. He listened but never pushed. He held her when she cried, even when he didn’t know why. He who helped her put her broken pieces back together. 

But he wasn’t you. 

And she knew that by choosing him and protecting herself she was hurting you. An unintentional casualty she had thought of it as. Except nothing about that dream had been unintentional. 

“Fuck,” 

She dragged her hand through her hair, her elbow barely brushing him. He still jolted awake. 

“Wha, babe?” Ty asked, his voice husky as she lurched to a sitting position. “You alright?” 

She hated that her brain instantly compared you to him. How your voice sounded so much sexier than his. How you were a deeper sleeper, and didn’t jump when you woke up. How you would have wrapped her in your arms before asking questions? 

She shook her head, leaning into his side, telling him that she wanted to be held. “Yeah, bad dream,” 

It took him a second to catch on and wrap a loose arm around her. “I’m here,” He placed a very sweet kiss on her hairline. 

She let out a shuddering breath. It was too close to something you would do. “I know,” 

He was there for now, but she couldn’t stop your words from echoing in her head. 

They had talked about what they would do when they found their soulmates, how they would prefer to be with each other rather than with some random person. 

But you weren’t a random person. 

How was she supposed to tell this man? This kind man, who had picked up the pieces her fear had created. that she had found her soulmate and she wanted to go back on every promise she had ever made? 

Especially when you weren’t going to keep your promise to her. 

*****

As it turned out, 48 hours with little more than a power nap did wonders on your psyche.

You were nearing the punch-drunk stage of exhaustion before you even stepped onto the pitch. And dealing with Emily and Kelley trying to stop you for 98 minutes had sapped every last bit of fake energy you had. 

Winning the game helped, but by the time Christen and Tobin were loading you in the car for dinner, you were dead on your feet. And the anxiety about what Lindsey had or had not said to Emily had you on edge as you entered the restaurant. 

The too-fancy restaurant, with white table cloths, red rose centerpieces, and gold-rimmed plates. 

You bit your lip as you were seated, trying to force the dream from your mind. 

But as it turned out, Lindsey hadn’t told Emily anything, and that made things so much more difficult. 

It made Emily and Kelley more curious, and more focused on your every move. You could feel their eyes tracing your every movement, glued to the way Tobin pulled out your chair and Christen sent you a meaningful look when she passed you the menu. 

You knew Emily wanted an explanation for why you had been ignoring her, but you weren’t sure how to put it into words. So you avoided it. 

You avoided making eye contact or engaging in conversation and focused too hard on the menu. 

“Sanchez is super stoked for the next few camps,” Kelley said, nodding her head toward you. “She thinks she can pull out some crazy services with our ducky,” 

You hummed, peeking up at her from behind your menu, using it as a shield. 

Considering how cracked and broken your chest felt, you doubted you would be making many connections at camp. You doubted you would be able to function in the same proximity as Lindsey, much less focus on soccer. 

You didn’t think you would be able to get out of your head enough to do it. 

“She seems scrappy,” You mumbled, your eyes barely flickering towards Emily, trying to avoid the place setting. 

It had the sludge sloshing in your stomach. You couldn’t help how you idly scratched at the point right above your heart. 

It’s not my fault you’ve incorporated me into some gay fantasy. It’s your MO.

You cleared your throat, chasing her voice from your head. “If she can keep up, it’ll be fun to see how we link,” 

“She’s deadly when she connects with Trin,” Kelley said, sending a look between you and Emily. “I’m sure you two will find your groove too,” 

You tried to ignore their secret conversation. The evidence that it wasn’t the first time you were the subject. 

“It’s not surprising her and Trin are soulmates really,” Emily added, sipping her glass of red wine. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes zeroed in on it. The way the liquid in the glass pressed to red lips had your heart pounding in your chest. 

It was stupid for you to get so worked up over a glass of wine. For the mere mention of soulmates to send you over the edge, but it did. 

“Ali and JJ had their hands full trying to keep track of them,” Trying to hide the concerned look she sent your way. 

You hadn’t even realized your hand was clutching your chest, clawing at your cracked heart. 

Tobin's arm landed heavily on your shoulder, an innocuous move that was meant to ground you. To keep you in the present. “I could tell Trinity was getting frustrated, especially with Girma,” 

“She's young,” Kelley nodded. “Once she matures a bit she’s going to be as much of a force as Alex and you three,” 

“Are you ok?” Emily asked before anyone could respond, reaching across the table to lay her hand over yours. “You look like you’re gonna be sick,” 

You pulled away like you had been burned. The action was too familiar. It was too close. 

“I’m good, I’ve just gotta go to the bathroom,” You said too quickly, pushing yourself away from the table. “I’ll be back,” 

You didn’t give anyone a chance to reply before you bolted from the table, hanging a right (nearly missing a very startled waiter) and crashing into the bathroom door like it was a Canadian defender. 

You stumbled into the sink, clutching the sink like it was a lifeline, praying that the cool granite countertop could calm the wave crashing through your chest. The unrelenting tsunami unleashed by Lindsey’s words. 

It was pathetic. You were pathetic. 

Some gold-ringed plates and red wine had sent you over the fucking edge. The mention of soulmates shouldn’t send your chest tight, but it did. 

You should be able to have a normal conversation with your friends. You shouldn’t fear that the simple mention of something would make you hurt so badly. 

It was a you problem. They shouldn’t suffer for it. 

You sucked in a short, wheezy breath, your fingers wrapping in your shirt to pull your collar down. 

Pathetic. The voice in your head hissed. No wonder she doesn’t want you. 

Your other hand pressed harder into the counter, dipping your head towards the metal faucet. You almost wished you had turned it on. 

“You have to breathe,” Emily’s voice suddenly said, very close to your ear. Her arms wrapped carefully around your stomach, one hand catching your own. “Come on, match my breathing ducky,” 

You leaned back into her body, feeling her heartbeat against your back with each exaggerated breath she took for your benefit. 

It burned to try and match her, matching the ever-present ache that had been there since Lindsey rejected you. The sludge in your stomach expanded and contracted with each breath you tried to take. 

You hadn’t felt this way since the night of the World Cup. Since Kelley knocked on the door and Lindsey had told you to get out. Since she told you you were nothing.

“I know it hurts, but you need to breathe,” Emily said, pulling you back towards her so she was hugging you from behind. 

You nodded, your lips pressing together tightly, your eyes slipping closed as you tried to focus on her. On the way, her arms felt around you. The way each breath hit your ear and moved against you. 

“Come on, breathe in” She hummed, sucking in a deep breath and waiting for you to follow her. You counted to 8 in your head, holding it for 4 before releasing it for 6. And repeating it. 

With each iteration, your relaxed father back into Emily, until most of your weight was leaning against her. 

She held you for a long moment, letting you gather yourself, and keeping a hand on your back as you pulled away. 

“Good?” She asked gently. 

“Yeah, good,” You nodded, your voice horse as you leaned towards the faucet, running cool water over your face before turning to face her. “Thanks,” 

“Anytime,” She said, watching you carefully, like you were a wounded animal she was afraid to back you into a corner, holding out a paper towel so you could dry your face. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

You shrugged. It had been happening to you a lot lately, the feeling that your chest was going to collapse on itself. Between Lindsey and the never-ending stream of calls from your brother, you knew they would only get that much worse. 

“You haven’t had a panic attack since France,” She continued, her voice ticking up and you knew that she wanted more of an explanation. 

You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about France anymore, or how Emily had found you in the same position after Lindsey kicked you out. How she had held you together for the night while the rest of the team celebrated. 

The only difference was that you couldn’t escape this time. There wasn’t a time limit for you to paint a smile on your face and pretend to be fine. 

“I’m fine,” You croaked, avoiding her eyes. 

“You’re not,” Emily countered, taking a step towards you, holding your hand up to stop her. You couldn't do this if she was close to you. “And I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s happening,” 

You shivered at the words. The same ones she had used before she checked you out of the hospital in Florida. 

“I just have a lot on my mind,” You muttered, pressing the paper towel into your eyes. 

“You’ve had a lot on your mind since camp,” She scoffed, hopping up on the counter next to you. “What’s going on?”

You let out a long sigh, knowing that she wasn’t going to let this go. She had refused to let anything go since she signed you out of the hospital. Since the nurse told her they had put you on a suicide hold. 

you blew out a long breath, weighing the words in your mouth. 

“I met my soulmate, and it’s complicated,” You said carefully. “I had the dream at camp and things have been difficult,” 

“And Lindsey is hurt, even though she has a boyfriend?” She asked, connecting the dots differently than you thought she would. “That’s why you’ve been avoiding all our calls and texts, even tonight,” 

She gestured towards your still buzzing phone. 

“Something like that,” You muttered, finally looking up at her.

She sent you a small, sad smile. You just appreciated there was no pity in her look. She was one of the few who was aware of the true nature of your relationship. One of the few who treated you like you weren’t fragile after you came back. One of the few who held you accountable. 

“We’ll figure it out,” She said solemnly. “At camp Kelley and I will run interference. You can forget about the drama and enjoy the game,” 

You shook your head. “I’m just so tired,” You admitted, finally letting your pain and exhaustion show on your face. Showing her that your soul was slowly seeping from your body. 

Emily pulled you close to her, and you fell into the comfort, burying your face in her chest, much like the night she had found you in France.

She squeezed you tightly as though she was holding all of your pieces together. Like she knew you were forgoing sleep to avoid your soulmate. Avoiding Lindsey. “Come on. Let’s go back, we’ll eat, and then you can get some sleep,” 

“Ok,” You agreed, letting her guide you out of the bathroom and to your seat, completely ignoring Kelley’s questioning eyes and Christen’s worried expression. 

“Everything alright?” Tobin finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the table, looking right at you. 

“Yeah, all good,” You mumbled. “I think I’m just going to get a cheeseburger,” 

You ignored Emily’s low scoff at the change of subject and Kelley’s raised eyebrow. 

The sludge in your stomach rocked but didn’t flair up like you expected it to. 

“Fishy and King said they were good here,” You added. 

“They said their onion rings were fire too,” Tobin jumped in, and you knew that it was just because she would get details of whatever had happened later, but for now she allowed you to change the subject. 

Christen hummed across the table, and you breathed a sigh of relief as the conversation restarted. 

You tried to relax and just enjoy your friends.

There would be time to worry later. 

******

Tobin had learned a long time ago that you didn’t always express yourself in words. She had learned to instead watch you because your body language always gave you away. She learned that you would tell her what was bothering you eventually, and that patience was the most useful tool she had. 

So that’s what she did, despite how much she wanted to know what happened in the bathroom. 

She watched as Kelley and Emily pulled unwilling smiles from your lips. As they got your shoulders to relax and genuine laughs to escape your 

It was the happiest she had seen you in months. The most… alive, despite how you flinched each time your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

You still hadn’t told her and Christen exactly who was calling you. 

She smiled as you leaned heavily into Christen as you all made your way down the sidewalk, towards the Washington Spirit hotel, making small talk with Emily. 

The small curve of your lips was a win in her opinion. She could see the effects of the soulmate bond. The slow decay of your soul was a painful inevitability, and your hesitancy to share your pain with them was hard for her. You had been better about coming to them, but you were still hesitant, and she knew the pressure was mounting 

She worried about what would happen when her and Christen weren’t there for support. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to wait for whatever BS story she told Em?” Kelley nudged Tobin’s ribs, nodding her head towards you. “Whatever happened in the bathroom looked pretty intense, and she was looking rough even before that,” 

“It probably was,” Tobin said half under her breath, her eyes never leaving you. “She’s just… she’s going through a lot right now. I’m pretty sure Chris and I don’t even know the whole story,”

Kelley raised an eyebrow, a clear indication that she wanted more information, earning a long sigh from Tobin. 

The midfielder-turned-forward’s eyes cut to Emily meaningfully. “All we know is that it’s a… personal thing,”

Soulmates shared everything, they held no secrets between them. It was an inherent downside to sharing your dreams with someone. So if she told Kelley, then Emily would know too, and she wasn’t about to betray your trust. 

Kelley followed her eyes, understanding blooming in her features. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t share more than I have to. I just want to help,” She said more softly, honesty in her tone. “What’s the personal thing?”

“It’s a problem with her soulmate,” Tobin said softly, the words barely above a whisper like it would soften the blow, but Kelley still recoiled. 

It all made sense. The dark circles under your eyes, the ache that coated every one of your movements, the exhaustion a simple smile brought. 

Kelley knew the symptoms well. 

“That sucks,” She sighed. 

You were such a good kid, and you never seemed to catch a break. 

“Majorly,” Tobin agreed, remembering how you had cried in her arms. “I’m worried about how she’ll be at camp,” 

She didn’t mention that you dealing with Lindsey on your own was something that made her very nervous. She didn’t mention that she was concerned about your propensity for self-destruction or running away. 

It had taken both her and Emily to track you down to Florida. She didn’t want to find you living in a tent on the beach. She didn’t want to have to convince you that being with your friends was worth dealing with your feelings. She didn’t want to get a call that you weren’t allowed to check out of a hospital by yourself. 

“Em and I will keep an eye on her,” Kelley said, catching Tobin's arm... “I’m sure Lindsey will help too,” 

Tobin grimaced, her eyes turning dark. “Let’s keep Lindsey out of it,” 

Kelley’s head tilted to the side, squinting. Lindsey was your best friend. The two of you had been inseparable until last camp. But she thought better of it than to comment. She knew the past the two of you shared after all. 

“Is that who’s blowing up her phone?” Kelley asked, her brain working to catch up. “Or is it the random soulmate?” 

Tobin shook her head, running a hand frustratedly through her hair. “She won’t tell us who has been calling her nonstop. It was so bad she stashed her phone in a sock drawer,” 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. Tobin wasn’t kidding when she said you were dealing with a lot. It seemed like the perfect mess of things. A web of pain with you at the epicenter. She just worried they wouldn’t be able to untangle you until it was too late. 

“We’ll keep an eye on her. I promise,” Kelley said solemnly, already knowing that Emily planned to watch out for you anyway. She had been worried for weeks, and now that the younger defender had definitive proof there was something wrong, there would be no stopping her. Kelley had already agreed to be along for the ride. “Now let’s try to keep her in a good mood. She deserves that,” 

You were always there for Emily, and she was determined to be there for you. You were like a little sister, she just hoped you would let her help. 

*****

Kelley knew within the first hour of camp that Tobin had been right to be worried. 

You were like a shell of yourself. She had seen it briefly at dinner, but being around you for an extended period exemplified how not ok you were. 

Your easy smile was gone, as was the light that always seemed to follow you. 

The only place you weren’t completely off was the field. 

You were cutthroat, slicing up the young defense with no mercy. You barely took the time to direct like you normally would, and it seemed you had no patience for the new midfield to catch up. You didn’t explain or teach. And you had simply shrugged when Kelley asked why. 

It was more selfish than you normally played and it was painfully obvious you were more focused on winning than having fun or helping the rest of the team. 

It was just so not like you, and other people on the team were starting to notice. 

But you seemed unbothered by the attention. The stares. You had barely looked at any of them. 

The only one you seemed to notice was Lindsey, something that didn’t surprise her considering what Emily told her about the bathroom incident. 

There was just something off about the story though. Something off about Lindsey’s reaction. It wasn’t… the reaction she would have expected if Lindsey was upset about you finding your soulmate. 

“You look like a creeper,” Emily hummed, kissing her cheek, wrapping her arms around her soulmate, and resting her head on her shoulder, following her gaze. “You’ve been staring for a long time,” 

“Just trying to read the dynamic,” Kelley mumbled, squinting as you nodded down another one of Sanchez’s crosses, and Huerta lined up to send one in from the other side.

You had been reluctant to agree to their request after practice, only saying yes to avoid Lindsey (from what Kelley could tell). 

Lindsey glared at the pair as they asked you, cutting off her attempt to get close to you while you were getting water. That glare hadn’t stopped, even as you headed back towards the pitch. 

Lindsey was blatant with the daggers she was sending toward Sofia and Sanchez. But it didn’t strike Kelley as friendly jealousy. 

She was trying too hard to close the distance. She was watching you too closely. 

It was too much. 

“Looks like jealousy to me,” Emily chuckled, tightening her arms around Kelley’s waist, and kissing just behind her ear. “She’s totally jealous,”

“But what kind of jealous?” Kelley asked slowly, leaning into Emily’s lips. “Watch,” 

Emily followed her gaze. Lindsey stood on the sideline, arms crossed, watching where Huerta was setting up a cross. The midfielder glared at the young defender, muttering something neither Kelley nor Emily could hear just before she took the cross. 

It was slightly off-target, but that wasn’t a problem for you. You bodied it down and finished it easily with a heel flick. 

Even without defenders around it was impressive. 

It shouldn’t be that easy. 

“You curl it where she’s going, not where she is,” Lindsey hissed towards Huerta, as you kicked the ball out of the net, passing it to Sanchez. 

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed when you didn’t stick up for the youngins like you normally would. But then again, that would require interacting with Lindsey. 

It was strange to see Lindsey so moody, so… unhelpful. 

“It can’t be Sofia right?” Emily asked. 

Kelley snorted at the question. Sofia was sweet, but she tiptoed around you, and not in the way that would indicate anything remotely romantic. Plus you had been on a team with her before you went to Angel City. Things wouldn’t have gotten as out of hand as they had. 

“Tobin would have murdered Huerta,” Kelley muttered thoughtfully. “And Y/n has barely looked at either of them,” 

The only person you had made eye contact with was Lindsey. 

“It can’t be one of our teammates Kelley,” it was Emily’s turn to scoff. “She’s tearing herself apart and none of them would do that to her,” 

The team held soulmates above all else, and as far as she knew, none of them would hurt you that way. None of them would stand by idly while the dark circles grew under your eyes and the light left your smile. None of them would let you self-destruct trying to make them happy. 

Kelley’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I think the more pressing issue is her sleep schedule,” 

“Christen already warned me,” Emily agreed. “She goes days without it if you don’t watch her,” 

“I’ll talk to Alex and get it swapped,” Kelley said. “She’ll understand and agree,” 

Their eyes watched you as you walked away from the youngins and finally settled onto the bench. Your exhaustion was obvious in the slump in your posture, the way you barely lifted your arm to squirt water into your mouth, even though you were trying to hide it. 

You glanced down at your phone, glaring at the small device. You let out a long sigh, before pushing yourself to your feet and walking away from the group to answer the call. 

“We need to figure out what’s going on outside of the soulmate thing too,” Kelley mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing. “Cause whatever it is can’t be good either,” 

Emily hummed in agreement. “Definitely,” 

*****

It wasn’t that Kelley liked to snoop. It was just that it was too easy to follow after you when you hadn’t reappeared on the field after you took the phone call. 

It had been too enticing to deny.

They needed to know what they were dealing with, and hearing part of that conversation would tell them what you wouldn’t. Plus Kelley was like an older sister, protective and overbearing in her own way. 

She could get away with a little spying, and if you caught her, you would be more likely to open up rather than flip out. 

Kelley also wasn’t stuck between you and Lindsey. She had always been closer to you. 

So she crept up to the door that separated the bathroom from the locker room. She pressed the door open just enough to be able to see your form, pacing back and forth, the phone pressed to your ear. 

“Stop calling me Tyler. Nothing has changed, even now,”  You growled, your lips forming a tight line. “I don’t care that she’s dying,” 

She frowned at the mention of your brother. 

You ran a hand through your hair, tugging harshly at the strands as you listened to whatever he was saying, your head already shaking. 

“There is nothing to consider, stop calling me. I only need to know when it’s done,” You spat into the phone, ripping it away from your ear and jabbing at the screen before you tossed it carelessly toward your locker. 

You looked like you wanted to scream or cry, or hit something, and Kelley felt her heart break for you. 

You were always the strong one. You pretended to be fine for everyone else’s sake. It was rare you let your vulnerability show. Rare enough that Kelley had never seen it herself. 

You turned, content on pacing the small room again, only to freeze in your tracks at what Kelley assumed was a person at the door that connected the locker room to the hallway. 

She leaned forward, catching blonde hair and white nail polish over crossed arms. 

Lindsey, she thought. 

The midfielder pushed off of the door, taking the three steps it took to close the space between you. Kelley wasn’t sure how long Lindsey had been watching you. She wasn’t sure how much of the conversation she had heard. 

Your posture changed, and your eyes hardened. “Look, I can’t deal with you too right now, alright?” 

The coldness of your tone shook Kelley to the core. She wasn’t sure if you had ever used anything like it before. 

“Deal with me?” Lindsey scoffed, exasperated stepping closer, so the two of you were nearly touching. “Can’t I just be a concerned friend?” 

“We are not friends,” 

Your voice was like ice. A knife razor sharp, and unyielding. You delivered it with a tilt of your chin, a glint in your eyes. A heavy blow thrown with complete accuracy. A blow to what Kelley didn’t know, but from the way Lindsey’s face fell, she knew the shot had landed. 

It didn’t make sense. Not unless- 

Kelley’s jaw dropped at the implication. Lindsey couldn’t be your-

“So you’ve said,” Lindsey said back, her voice too even, too calm despite the pain laced in it. But she didn’t leave your space. 

“Don’t do that,” You snapped, shoving a finger in her chest and finally putting distance between you. Kelley winced at the action. 

“What?” Lindsey bit back, her chin tilted up in defiance, her arms spread out to the side.“I’m not doing anything,” 

Kelley held her breath. There was more being said than the words between you, and the way your back straightened at Lindsey’s sentence was as bad a sign as she had seen. 

“You’re never doing anything,” You spat back. “Perfect Lindsey is always the victim, right? It’s big bad Y/n who is in the wrong, preying on the innocent right?” 

You spat the words like venom. Like there was something else that went with them. A line that both you and Lindsey knew, but Kelley did not. 

Lindsey’s face fell. “I don’t-“ 

“You never fucking do!” You shouted, a flush traveling up your neck to your cheeks as your fists clenched. Hurt and anger permeating your entire being. “You can stop being a bitch to Sanchez and Huerta. They’re kids who won’t leave me the fuck alone,”

Lindsey let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look I’m sorry about what I said, ok?”

“No. It’s not ok Lindsey,” You answered, your voice soft but cold as ever.  “It will never be ok,” 

“What do you want from me?” Lindsey pleaded. “What do I say to fix it?”

You paused, staring at her like she had grown a third head. 

“Fix it? You haven’t even told your fucking boyfriend yet, have you?” you asked the word bitterly, and her silence was enough of an answer for both you and Kelley. You shook your head. “You’re un-fucking-believable, you know,” 

And it all made sense to Kelley. The tension between the two of you. Your pain. 

“I don’t-“ Lindsey stuttered, but you cut her off easily. 

“You do,” You said, a weight of finality in your tone. “Just leave. me. alone. Don’t look at me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t corner me. Just stay away from me,” 

The words were punctuated by the sound of you grabbing your bag, and Kelley stumbled back into one of the stalls, hoping you wouldn’t catch her. 

But she wasn’t fast enough, caught in the curtain as you pushed your way through the door. 

You rolled your eyes at the defender, more irritated by Lindsey than Kelley’s eavesdropping. 

You already expected the extra ears, especially after your episode at dinner with Kelley, Emily, and Preath. They were nosey, even if it was for the right reasons. 

You chose to ignore her as you picked your own shower stall, partially because you didn’t want to address it, but also because you didn’t know if you could speak without your voice cracking and you didn’t want to lose it here. Not with her in the next room, or your friends around to see. 

You were not an emotional person, and being so raw made you uncomfortable. 

“That seemed like a rough conversation,” Kelley said finally, stepping so she could lean on the frame of the entrance to your stall.

You blew out a long, shaky breath, dropping your extra clothes and towel on the little chair. 

“Not you too,” You grumbled. “what’s with you and Emily cornering me in bathrooms,” 

“What’s with you running to them?” Kelley countered, raising an eyebrow at you.

You closed your eyes, your head leaning back on the shower wall with a thump. 

The sludge in your stomach sloshed unyieldingly. The pain in your chest echoing out with each beat of your heart. You unconsciously brought your hand up to clutch over the area, your nails digging into the sensitive skin through your shirt. 

“I don’t want to talk about this alright?” 

Kelley softened at the quiet, vulnerable request, reaching up to catch your hand, flattening it against her palm. “You’re shaking,” 

You bit your lip, nodding down to your chest. “It hurts,” 

Her eyes followed your gesture, and her heart sank a little bit more. 

She knew the symptoms of soulmate sickness. She had experienced its effects for herself. That wasn’t something she wanted you to have to go through. 

“Let me see,” She said softly, waiting for you to nod before she reached for you. 

She was gentle as she pulled your practice jersey over your head, her breath catching when she saw the black mark on your chest, right over your heart. 

It was dark at the very center, several rings of what looked like bruises surrounded it and a web of black veins sprouted from the center. 

It was a physical symptom of your emotional pain. A visual representation of rejection from a soulmate. The necrotic tissue spreading from your crushed heart. 

She watched as the veins pulsed, pushing the dark color further from the epicenter, eating away at your chest. 

“Oh my god,” She breathed out, her eyes snapping to yours. “Do Tobin and Christen know?” 

You nodded once. It was hard to hide when you were living on their couch. Plus they had been there when the first black mark appeared. “It wasn’t this bad until last week. Things kinda took a turn,” 

“I can see that,” She said, retracting her hand when you winced after she lightly touched the angriest of the black veins. “Was this before or after your stopped sleeping,”

“I stopped sleeping after she rejected me the first time,” You scoffed, gritting your teeth when the pain pulsed yet again. 

“Well that’s not gonna continue,” Kelley said sternly.  “I swapped with Alex,” 

“Of course, you did,” You groaned. “I don’t need a parent,” 

“No, you don’t,” She said slowly. “But you don’t have to struggle through all of this alone,” 

You gulped, as her eyes searched you before she pulled you into a tight hug. You buried your face in her neck, letting her strong arm and scent soothe you. 

“I’m not pushing Lindsey away because I want to be alone,”

“No, you’re pushing her away because it hurts less,” Kelley agreed, and there was no judgment in her voice. “Because every time you let her close, she cuts you,”

You appreciated that. 

“It didn’t hurt like this until she called it a gay fantasy and accused me of sleeping with all of my friends,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. 

It was only after the dream that the mark appeared. You guessed it was because it was an actual rejection. 

Kelley tensed underneath you, cursing under her breath. That was more than just a complication, and she wished Tobin had been more informative. Unless Tobin didn’t know. 

It made sense why you didn’t want to sleep. Why was your brother bothering you? None of that made sense, but they could only tackle one problem at a time. 

“She’s an idiot,” Kelley said finally, pulling back so she could look you in the eye. “but tearing yourself apart isn’t the answer. You need sleep. Let me help,”

You met her eyes, and you saw the worry. The anger. The understanding that rivaled Tobins. She made you feel safe. 

“Ok,”

******

Kelley was on a warpath so deadly that even Emily didn’t think she could stop her. Frankly, Emily wasn’t sure if she even wanted to stop her. 

Not after Kelley told her. Not after she saw the black mark herself. It made her chest ache just looking at it. 

It was worse that she knew one of her best friends was the cause of it. That Lindsey had not only accused you of sleeping with your friends but dismissed your bond with such vulgar language. 

They had been lucky to make it through dinner without any outbursts, especially with the way Lindsey stared at your every movement, stilted as they were, and the way she was glowering at Emily and Kelley like she knew they knew. 

But Emily wondered if Lindsey knew. If she had given any thought to the consequences of her actions. 

You had only stayed long enough to eat before excusing yourself back to your own room. Lindsey followed, sending a meaningful glare toward the defender pair as she passed. 

“She’s warning us,” Kelley muttered, standing as soon as the door closed. “I don’t like it,” 

Emily sighed, pushing herself to her feet and trailing after her soulmate. “I don’t like any of this,” 

She hoped Lindsey went back to her room. She hoped that Lindsey wouldn’t push, not when you were already so far on edge. 

Her hopes were dashed as the elevator doors binged open and there she was sitting outside your hotel room door. 

“Don’t you know the meaning of stay away?” Kelley growled as they approached the midfielder. Emily placed a gentle hand on Kelley’s arm, hoping to prevent the second half of the sentence. The match that would light the inevitable blow up. 

“She’s probably asleep,” Emily said, her grip on Kelley tightening. Afraid of what the defender would say. “She said she wanted to nap after she finished eating,” 

It had been a fight to get you to agree that you desperately needed a nap. A fight to get you to recognize that the only way to deal with the stress of camp was to give your body the support it needed. 

“She probably exhausted herself flirting with the kids,” Lindsey grumbled, patting the carpeted floor. 

“She exhausted herself protecting the little bit she has left.” Kelley snapped back.  “We could only convince her to sleep because we promised we’d prevent you from following her there. Prevent you from cornering her again,” 

It had been true. They swore they would make sure Lindsey stayed awake so you could avoid another unwanted confrontation, one Lindsey seemed intent on having. 

You were too tired to fight, and both defenders feared that any more pushing would make the mark on your chest grow. 

“This isn’t all my fault,” Lindsey bit back, shoving herself to her feet and advancing toward Kelley. 

At least it got her away from your door. 

Kelley’s face hardened, and she pressed against Emily’s restraining arm, getting as close to the midfielder as she could. “No. You just belittled the bond you share and accused her of fucking all of her teammates,” 

Lindsey glared, stepping so she was toe to toe with Kelley at the clear challenge. “Are you trying to tell me that Y/n didn’t fuck her way back to the plane in France, or on the beach in Florida?” 

“How fucking blind are you Lindsey,” Kelley scoffed, her chest pushing against Emily’s restraining arm, trying to get closer. 

“Easy,” Emily said, her arm tightening around Kelley, her eyes never leaving the midfielder. “Y/n has been trying to get over you for forever,” 

Lindsey's lip curled at the gentle admission. “And she followed you like a puppy when you brought her back to Portland,” 

A dark look crossed Emily’s face. Both her and Tobin were particularly protective of your time in Florida for a reason. You were a mess when you got back. A self-destructive mess, and it had taken so long to get you out of those habits. To prevent more scars. 

“They were only so close because Em was the one who found her after I found you in the closet,” Kelley answered before she could, her voice turning cruel. “What was it you said to her as you shoved her half-dressed into the hallway? That what you two were doing meant nothing? That she meant nothing?”

Kelley would never forget finding you and Emily that night. The way her own soulmate explained exactly what Lindsey said to you. The guilt she felt at how knocking on a door had set your spiral into motion again. 

But that was nothing compared to this. No. Lindsey had dismissed the bond you shared as a gay fantasy and you were tearing yourself apart over it. 

“She was afraid you would reject her again, or that she would have to pretend the two of you hadn’t blurred the friendship line,” Emily added more softly, finally letting go of Kelley. 

Leaving you alone didn’t feel like a good move right now. 

“Go, check on her,” Kelley said, pushing the blonde defender towards the door with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be good I promise,” 

Kelley waited for the door to close before turning her cold eyes back on the midfielder. 

“She was right to be afraid,” She said, her voice soft but deadly, like a razor running on delicate skin.  “You fucked this up. You were the one who made the choice. Who has made all of the choices? You don’t get to comment on how Y/n protects herself. You need to wake up before you push her too far,” 

With that, she stepped around the stunned midfielder and entered the hotel room too. 

*****

“You told me to call you when it was done,” Your brother's muffled voice met her as she stepped through the door. “It’s done. The service is tomorrow and you’re expected to be there,” 

She frowned at the scene, you perched on the end of the bed next to Emily, pinching the bridge of your nose, the phone held up to your ear. 

“I’ll be there,” You said softly, making eye contact with Kelley, exhaustion clear in your features. 

There was no I love you exchanged between you and your brother as the line went dead. 

Kelley approached you carefully, taking up your other side so you were seated between the defenders. “What’s going on?” 

You ran a hand through your hair, puffing out your cheeks and blowing out a long breath. You took a long moment to order your thoughts, pushing the ones of Lindsey from your mind. 

You could only deal with one problem at a time. 

“My mom died, I have to go,” You said slowly, dragging your hand down your face. “I’ll be back before the next game, but I’ve gotta go,” 

You pushed yourself to your feet and began shoving clothing into your bag. 

“Slow down,” Kelley said, standing and catching your arm as you tried to shove a sweatshirt into your bag. 

You stopped, throwing your head back toward the ceiling with a low groan. Kelley’s hand found your back, silently supporting you. 

“I can’t,” The words slid from your lips, landing like Little rocks on a pond. “I didn’t want to deal with any of this, but I have to,” 

“Your brother is the one who’s been calling you,” Kelley supplied, filling in the gap. 

You nodded. “My mother was in hospice. Her dying request was a conversation with me,” 

“She had no right to ask for that,” Emily said, moving to stand on your other side. “Not after the way you grew up,”

You bit your lip. 

“Y/n,” Kelley sighed, rubbing your back. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have a choice in this. In any of it. 

“Well she did, and now she’s dead,” You said finally, pulling yourself out of their comforting arms and towards your bag.  “It’s another thing I’ve fucked up,”

The only good thing about this situation was that you would be back in time for the game against South Korea in Kansas City. That the game was in the town you had to go to anyway. 

“Stop. Look at me,” Emily caught your arm again, using a thumb under your chin to force you to look her in the eyes. She raised an eyebrow at you. “you know none of this is your fault right?” 

Your shoulders lifted and fell, and for the first time, she saw the little spark in your eyes go dead. It was the first time she saw the full toll of the soulmate bond on you. The full force of the pressure from your family and the team. 

“Look. I don’t want to. I haven’t wanted to deal with any of this, but I have to,” Your voice shook as you said the words. You gulped, shoving your feelings into a little box. “So just let me, and try to get along with Linds. She can’t help how she feels, and she doesn’t need the entire team against her,” 

You didn’t want them to fight a fight that wasn’t their own. 

It was between Lindsey and you, and they didn’t need to destroy the team dynamic over something that was your problem. 

You should be able to be her friend. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t hold the same feelings you did.

The things she said to you were your problem, not your friend’s problem. 

“I have to go,” You said, grabbing your bag. 

Kelley stared at you for a long moment, before pulling you into a hug. “We’re here for you,” 

You let out a breath, accepting the comfort. “I know,” 

You pulled away, nodding at Emily as you walked out the door. 

You should have been expecting Lindsey to be waiting for you. You should have been prepared, but you weren’t. 

You made eye contact with her as you stepped into the hallway, and it made your chest ache. Her burning blue made the ice in your veins prickle, and your heart lurched in your chest. 

You steeled yourself, opting to roll your eyes and step past her. It hurt less than commenting or trying to hold conversation. 

But she didn’t let you pass. Her fingers wrapped around your arm. 

“Y/n wait. Can we talk?” She asked, her fingers tightening slightly at the question. 

You twisted your arm, pulling away, and stepping towards the elevator. You clicked the call button. 

“Maybe you should try again later,” Emily said, sliding between you and Lindsey. 

You could feel her sending you worried looks over her shoulder., trying to act as a mediator between her two best friends. You caught her hand, intent on telling her to stay out of it, that this was your problem, but Lindsey didn’t give you the chance. 

“What’s wrong with now?” Lindsey hissed, stepping closer so she was pressed into Emily, and Emily was pressed into you. 

You took an involuntary step back, breathing a sigh of relief when the elevator binged open. 

You didn’t answer, stepping into the elevator, and making eye contact again as it slid closed. 

“Y/n please!” She pleaded as the door slid closed. 

But you just blinked at her. You didn’t have anything to say back. 

You couldn’t uncap your emotions now. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to stop. 

And you needed to be in control if you were going to face your family. 

*****

Lindsey clutched her chest as the elevator door slid closed as if she was trying to grab the sudden pain that shot through her. 

It was a feeling she had never experienced before. A stabbing sensation that lit her nerve endings on fire. 

You had been so cold. So… indifferent, not towards her at least. 

And she couldn’t stand it. In the locker room, you had been all vitriol and rage. She could understand your anger. She knew how to respond to anger. 

She could throw your pain back at you if you were simply angry. She could be angry in return. She could pretend that she didn’t know she was hurting you. She could pretend that she didn’t loathe herself for it. 

But the way you looked at her. She couldn’t pretend that you weren’t in agony. That you weren’t suffering. 

She didn’t know what to do with it. She didn’t know how to stop. Not without admitting the truth, and that fucking terrified her. 

But losing you terrified her more. It was her greatest fear. 

She had almost convinced herself that she hadn’t lost you. That it was just a disagreement you would get over. But as the elevator doors dinged shut, it was clear that this was different. 

Her phone pinged, and it made her want to vomit. She knew it was him. She hated how her heart no longer leaped for him, but she wasn’t ready to put him out of his misery either. 

She glared down at the device, sliding down the wall next to the elevator, unable to hold herself up. 

“Great fucking timing,” She muttered, rubbing a frustrated hand through her hair. 

She didn’t know how to stop. She didn’t know how to fix it. She just… didn’t know. 

She closed her eyes, tilting her head up to the sky. She wasn’t sure if she believed in a god anymore (just that thought would make her parents’ head roll), but if there was, she wished he would tell her what the fuck to do. She wished he would tell her how the fuck she was supposed to fix this. 

She felt Emily’s eyes on her for a long moment, before the defender slid down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Lindsey said, taking a deep, watery breath. “Any of this,” 

“She didn’t leave camp because of you,” Emily’s shoulders lifted and fell. “Her mom died. She’ll be back with us when we get to Kansas,” 

Lindsey sucked in another deep breath.

So that was what your brother was harassing you about. That was the thing he wanted you to do. 

She knew how strained your relationship with your family was. Your mother kicked you out when you were 16 because she found you kissing your high school girlfriend. 

When she called her your… gay fantasy.

She had used the same term to insult you. 

Jesus, how was she so fucking stupid? 

“I’m sorry,”

Lindsey’s voice was heavy, weighed down by emotions she didn’t know how to put into words. 

Emily’s shoulders lifted and fell again. “It’s not me you’ve gotta convince,” 

Lindsey hated how indifferent she sounded too. How careful not to get in the middle. 

And as if on cue, her phone pinged again. 

She glared at the device, straining to prevent herself from throwing it across the room as if it was the root cause of all of her issues. 

It buzzed again in her hand. 

Emily rolled her eyes at the device. “I think the first step to showing her you’re sorry is to have a very important conversation with him,” 

Lindsey frowned. How did Emily know she hadn’t told him yet? “How?” 

“A locker room isn’t a good place for a private chat,” Emily shrugged for the 3rd time, and Lindsey wanted to scream. How was the blonde defender so… blasé? 

It made the ache in her chest throb like the pain was in time with her heart. She rubbed at the spot on her chest, and the weight of Emily’s pitying gaze was too much to handle.

She couldn’t stop the tears that trickled down her cheeks, or the sobs that shook her to her core. 

She didn’t deserve to cry. Not when she was the creation of the entire mess. Not when she was the one to make the choice. 

Emily sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. 

Lindsey gripped her shirt with her free hand like her life depended on it. 

Emily rubbed her back, resting her chin on blonde hair. It killed her to see you both so… distraught. She loved you both so much. No matter how unhappy she was with her friend, the blonde defender wasn’t heartless. She couldn’t sit back while one of her best friends sobbed. 

She hugged Lindsey tightly, rocking side to side. “I’ve got you. You’re ok,” 

Lindsey shuttered against her chest, her tears leaking into Emily’s shirt. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lindsey cried, gripping Emily’s shirt for dear life. 

Emily shushed her softly. “I know,” 

She did know. She had seen the way Lindsey rubbed her chest and knew it was from the bond. The midfielder was getting a small taste of the agony you were in. A small feel of a soul being degraded. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Lindsey hiccupped, pulling away. 

Emily sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. She didn’t know what to do either, well nothing that Lindsey was ready to do yet (break up with your boyfriend came to the front of her mind). 

But past that, you weren’t at a place where you were ready to forgive Lindsey either. The midfielder hit a very sore spot. She had opened old wounds with little care. Wounds that would take time to heal. 

“Well,” Emily said slowly. “Y/n has a lot to deal with right now. I don’t think pressuring her will help,” 

“So I give up?” Lindsey sniffed. 

Emily shook her head, raising an eyebrow, and instantly correcting her. “I think you give her the space she asked you for,” 

Lindsey nodded once but bit her lip. “What if I see her? I can’t stop the dreams,” 

Maybe a part of her was hoping to see you in a space where you couldn’t run away. Where she could finally get out all the things she wanted to say, even if you weren’t ready to hear it yet. 

“I think you still try to give her space,” Emily cracked a smile as if she was reading the midfielder's mind.  “You remember how to be a good human, don’t you?” 

Lindsey got the look in her eye that she did when they were running film, and she had just found the other team’s weakness. 

“I can do that,” She nodded, her determination clear. 

Emily only hummed in response, I hope you can, echoing in her mind. Because if Lindsey couldn’t, well, that wasn’t a bridge Emily wanted to have to cross. It wasn’t a bridge Emily thought you would survive crossing. 

*****

Lindsey’s nose scrunched as she came into awareness, her arms folding around herself in a tight hug as she shifted on the uncomfortable wooden floor. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and legs, a doomed attempt to fight the cold that surrounded her and settled deep into her bones. 

She shifted again as her eyes blinked open, the floor creaking dangerously below her. She squinted at the dim blue ceiling, trailing down the peeling blue walls. 

It was dark and dingy, unlike the previous dreams the two of you had shared. She idly wondered if it was due to the only source of light being a small window above the bed, or if it was a manifestation of something darker. 

She let out a breath, watching as it left her in a white puff of mist, curling gently around her, highlighting how sad your small form curled on the windowsill looked. 

You matched the room it seemed. 

There was a small twin bed shoved against one wall and a broken dresser that stood at the end of your bed. It surprised her that those were the only items within the 4 walls. You didn’t even have a closet. 

The only part of the room that looked new was the heavy wooden door. It had no handle, only a series of 4 shiny metallic locks. Her eyebrows furrowed. The keyholes were pointed inward. 

She wondered if it was something the dream world had created. A way to force the two of you to have an actual conversation. One that she wasn’t prepared for. 

You had asked for space after all. She assumed that translated to the dream world instead. 

“It locks from the outside,” You answered her unasked question, never looking away from the window. 

Her eyes snapped to you. “What?”

“The door,” You said, turning to wave a hand at the object, and resting your chin on your knees. “My mom used to lock it from the outside,” 

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected you to address her. 

The red ring around your eyes was shocking, as was the way it made the Y/e/c in your eyes stand out. The pain in them was raw, real. It made Lindsey’s chest ache. 

“Oh,” She breathed out, the weight of the implication too heavy for her brain to work through. 

She knew your childhood was bad, but seeing the place you had grown up was… something else. It made her feel like she had ice in her beings, prickling at her skin from the inside out. 

You shrugged, letting your legs fall off the sill and sliding onto the small twin bed. It creaked underneath you. “That's why I liked to sleep at the field. At least there I was free,” 

Lindsey swallowed the lump in her throat with a slow nod, trying not to focus on how the mattress dipped under your light weight. 

You leaned forward, your feet resting on the floor, your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands. And you looked… sad. Pale and completely defeated. Being in this place was more torment than anything else for you, and Lindsey wondered if this was actually the place you were sleeping for the night. 

If your brother was punishing you for ignoring him. If you were surviving your family. 

The silence stretched between the two of you, as you chewed on your bottom lip watching her as she watched you. You reminded her of a wounded animal, backed into a corner. Trapped in a cage you couldn’t escape. 

It made Lindsey’s chest ache. She couldn’t just sit in silence with you. 

“I- I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sorry,” She stuttered out, barely above a whisper. 

You instinctively knew she was telling the truth, and part of you wondered if it was some weird soulmate thing. The other part of you was too… exhausted to care.

You shifted on the bed, carefully rubbing over the spot on your chest, grimacing as you pressed too hard into the tender skin. 

You couldn’t deal with that and your family and Lindsey all at the same time. It was just… too much. 

“Can we just… not?” You asked slowly, and you hated the pain that permeated the sentence. You hated how Lindsey slumped back against the wall at the request. How… hurt she looked. 

You didn’t want to hurt her, no matter how much pain she had inflicted on you. Two wrongs didn’t make a right. 

She was once your best friend. She had held you while you suffered serious abuse in France. She held you together during your first NWSL season, and during the World Cup when the pressure of being back in the place that had hurt you and the need to perform had been too much. She had willingly blurred and crossed lines that you never had before. 

Lindsey had always helped you handle your emotions, and though you didn’t have the right to ask her, you needed her in a way that settled deep in your bones. Like you couldn’t breathe without her. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the rejection you knew you deserved. 

“Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but can we just pretend tonight that we don’t hate each other?” You asked, so softly she almost didn’t hear you, staring at the floor right by her feet. 

“What?” Her eyebrows furrowed as you made eye contact again. 

You worried your bottom lip, taking a second to gather the courage to ask her again. “Can we just be the old Y/n and the old Lindsey?” You held out a hand, noticing it was shaking. Your entire body was shaking. “just for tonight? Can we pretend that none of this ever happened?” 

Lindsey had every right to deny you, especially when that was all she had asked of you from the beginning. All she wanted was to keep her best friend, and you couldn’t give her that. You told her you weren’t friends. 

Why in the hell should she give you this now? 

Lindsey gulped, slowly standing and taking your hand. Emily’s words echoed in her head. You remember how to be a good human, don’t you?

“Yeah, we can do that,” 

Your hand squeezed hers once, twice, three times. 

She smiled softly, as you scooted back on the bed, making space for her beside you. She very slowly joined you on the bed, trying not to wince when it nearly collapsed around the two of you. You wiggled your way under her arm, gently settling your head on her chest. 

Warmth bloomed from the spot that you touched. It made the icicles in her veins retreat. It made the pain in her chest shrink. It made her feel… right. 

She let her fingers trace patterns on your back and felt you slowly relax against her. She held you closer when she felt the tears leaking through her shirt and the subtle shake of your back. 

Each little droplet burned her like acid, and the ice followed in their wake. It killed her that she was the reason for them. 

“I don’t hate you,” Lindsey said, breaking the silence between you, staring at a dark patch in the ceiling. “And I had no right to say those things to you. I let my jealousy get the best of me,” 

You hummed in response, rubbing your cheek against her chest. It made the pain in your chest lessen. 

“I’m so so sorry,” She continued, her words disappearing into your hair. 

She didn’t expect a verbal response from you. She didn’t need a verbal response. 

She held you tighter though, smiling when she felt your heart rate slow against her, knowing that at least she was settling you instead of upsetting you tonight. 

You closed your eyes and breathed in her scent, nearly as strong in the dreams as it was in real life. 

“Love you Linds, always,” You mumbled against her, not looking up to see her reaction. 

She stilled beneath you, waiting for your breathing to completely even out before she pressed her lips to the crown of your head. 

“I love you too,” 

Always.

*****

It was scary how exhaustion and pain were becoming an everyday part of your life. How you were used to the stabbing sensation in your chest, and the tingles that sprouted from it. How you were used to the little anvils behind your eyelids. How you were used to fighting your instincts to curl up and hide away. 

By the time you made it to the hotel in Kansas City, you were losing that fight. You felt so heavy, exhaustion hitting you so bone-deep it was integrated into your very being. 

It only took one look at you by the trainers and they were agreeing that a nap in your room was much needed. They let you grab a lunch plate and head up with little question. Kelley and Emily hadn’t bothered you either, only putting the tv on low while you dozed. 

By dinner time, you felt ready to face the team. Well, as ready as you were going to get. 

You rolled your eyes as you stepped into the hallway and saw Lindsey already waiting, seated beside your door, kicking yourself for not getting dressed fast enough to walk down with Kelley and Emily. 

You hoped that this didn’t become a new normal for her. You were too tired to try and avoid her or to confront her head-on. 

“Hey,” She said, scrambling to a standing position.

You tilted your head in acknowledgment, stepping past her and clicking the elevator button. 

It felt eerily similar to the last time the two of you had spoken in person. Except this time she followed you into the elevator. 

“So silent treatment?” She asked mostly to herself as the doors slid shut, trapping the two of you together. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. You had nothing against talking to Lindsey, you were just so exhausted. 

You knew that you should bring up the shared dream, and the words that she had whispered when she thought you couldn’t hear. You knew you should thank her for comforting you when you had no right to ask for it. 

But what else was there to say? You had said it was only for the night, and you were damned and determined to keep that. She deserved for you to let her be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. 

You were too… raw to hear her say it though. Too raw for her to tell you again that she was going to choose him. That her comforting you had indeed been only for the night. Plus, it didn’t matter what she said while the two of you were alone. You knew the minute you were back with your friends, things would go back to the way they were before the dream, so believing her now would only… hurt more. 

Your chest already ached at the thought. 

Stifling silence was better than being rejected again. 

Lindsey sighed heavily from beside you, placing a heavy hand on your arm, forcing you to look at her. “Look, I just wanted you to know that I meant what I said, All of it,”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way goosebumps erupted across your arm where her skin touched yours. 

You had meant everything that you said too, no matter how much you loathe to admit it, but you were sure Lindsey already knew that. She was by no means blind to how wrapped around her fingers you were. 

She had known that you loved her since you were both barely adults. She had known since the first time the two of you… 

It didn’t matter what she knew. It didn’t matter what she said. She had said it all before, hadn’t she? And you didn’t want to pretend anymore. You were too tired for games. 

You nodded toward her, unwilling to argue. Her eyes tightened, and you could tell that she wanted to say more. 

But you didn’t want to hear it. She could say whatever she wanted, but people’s emotions didn’t change overnight. A dream wasn’t some magical Band-Aid that would fix everything that was broken. Especially when you were the one to say the truce was only for the night. 

Her mouth opened, but the elevator ding interrupted her before she could speak. Before she had the chance to crack the already broken shell you had built around yourself. 

You stared at her for a long moment, frozen in time, trapped in the deep pools of her sorry eyes, before you ripped your arm away from her and darted out of the elevator. 

You were moving so fast, looking behind you that you didn't see his tall, solid form until you were crashing into him. Her arms caught your shoulders as he steadied you.  

“Whoa, easy,” He chuckled. Liquid fire raced from your heart, out to the points he had touched, an unnerving numbing chasing after it. You pulled away from him like you had been burned. 

Your head whipped between him and Lindsey as you stumbled backward. Just as you thought, she only cared for you when no one was watching. 

You had been right not to trust her. 

*****

Pain was slowly becoming your close companion, the low ache in your chest and sludge in your stomach unwelcome friends that refused to leave your company. You closed your eyes tightly, pressing your face further into the cool cloth of the dining table. 

Emily and Kelley's warm hands did little to ease the throbbing emanating from the dark mark on your chest. 

“What is he even doing here?” You groaned into the white cloth, your eyes closed tightly leaning back into the soothing touch of your friends. It did little to help you, but you appreciated the effort. 

You didn’t want to deal with the situation. With him. You had thought about what you would do if you ever met him. If you were ever forced to be in the same room as him, and none of those options seemed viable. 

You were too exhausted, too pained to tell him what you thought of him. You cared for Lindsey too much to expose that she had lied to him, and it hurt too much to pretend like you were fine. 

“It’s her 100 cap celebration,” Kelley supplied, sounding equally as annoyed as you felt. Her finger lightly grazed the angry black line that extended over your shoulder. You doubted that your kit top would cover it, and you worried that the commentators would draw more attention. That after the game you would be flooded with comments from fans who didn’t understand and media outlets who wanted to profit off of your pain. 

They didn’t understand that it was excruciating being forced to watch your soulmate galavant with her boyfriend. You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up, but It still made you want to vomit. 

“I didn’t think they were still talking. I thought she told him,” Emily mumbled, rubbing your back again as a form of apology. “She hasn’t been taking his calls since you left,” 

You forced yourself upright, shrugging off the hand and grabbing your fork. You angrily stabbed at your fruit. 

You hated that Emily had been caught between the two of you. It had acid pooling in your throat and made the throb moving up your shoulder pulse. Your pain should not be shared by your friends, and yet-

You shook your head, bringing the fruit to your lips. 

You felt dirty. Emily had agreed to help Lindsey and now the midfielder was flaunting her relationship in front of you all. 

“None of this is your fault,” You mumbled, chewing slowly. “It’s on her. She told me she loved me and now…-”

You shook your head again. You didn’t want an apology from Emily or Kelley. You didn’t even want one from Lindsey. You just wanted to be done. To run away and never come back. For it all to just… stop.

“There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love,” Kelley said softly, gently, like you were a fragile thing she was afraid to break. 

You hummed. You knew that. It was just part of you… a small part… wanted to believe that she could love you. That eventually, she would choose to love you. It was that small hope that kept the soul-sucking ache at bay. That had helped you force your way through your visit with your family and all of their unwanted commentary. 

“I just…” You trailed off, unsure of what you were even going to say. Your family had sapped all of your emotional energy, and this. Well, this just took whatever little you had left. “I don’t even know,” 

Maybe you would run off to Australia this time, where no one would ever think to look for you and your path would never cross with your soulmate. Not even during dreams. 

You took another bite of your fruit. 

“Hey guys,” Lindsey smiled hesitantly, approaching the table and pausing beside the two empty chairs across from you. It drew the attention (and glares) of the entire table to her. 

Your eyes were on her instantly. On the way his hand cupped the small of her back protectively and how she leaned back into him. 

The knife in your chest twisted and the sludge sloshed. You did not doubt that the mark above your heart would grow. It always did when she rejected you. 

You missed the greetings your friends sent their way, adding in your silent nod when Emily nudged you. 

At least Ty pulled her chair out for her as they sat across from you. 

You stared at him with a sort of masochistic curiosity, trying to see what she saw. 

He leaned forward in his chair, reminding you of a giddy child, his dimples showing. “You all ready for South Korea?”

Maybe she liked the way his dirt-colored eyes glinted with excitement. Or the way his head bobbed when he talked. 

It made your stomach roll again, ripping away the little appetite you had. 

You cleared your throat, pushing your plate away and standing. Your chair screeched against the floor. “No, I need to go get my stuff together,” 

You grabbed the still full plate, ignoring Emily and Kelley’s worried glances and Lindsey’s concerned eyes as you turned on your heel and headed for the door. 

You didn’t want or need Lindsey’s concern because clearly, she didn’t care enough. 

“So maybe I shouldn’t place too many bets on a high score line,” Ty chuckled, seemingly oblivious to your abrupt departure, or the awkward silence that had settled over the table. He glanced down at his plate, his smile only getting wider. “Ah shit, I forgot silverware,” he kissed Lindsey’s cheek and stood, his hand lingering on her shoulder as he headed back towards the food table. “Brb babe,” 

She sent him a half smile back and then turned back to the unimpressed looks from her friends. 

“You’re really something,” Kelley muttered around her glass. “But you already knew that,”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed and she watched the defender carefully. “What?”

Kelley shook her head, her lips pursing as if she was thinking too hard about what she was going to say next. “You’re going to kill her, and you don’t even care,” 

Lindsey’s frown deepened, a crease forming on her forehead. She was killing you? She knew you were in pain but… killing?

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. “What?” 

The words felt dumb falling from her lips and she felt dumb for uttering them. 

“You’re going to kill her,” Kelley repeated, her teeth gritting, even as Emily’s hand landed on her thigh. A warning to keep her from saying more. The older defender took a long breath. “And I wished you gave a fuck. It would feel more fair if you pretended to give a fuck,” 

“I do give a fuck,” Lindsey hissed back, unable to stop the red that flooded her cheeks or the unwanted shiver that ran down her spine. 

She cared about you far more than she wanted to admit. She cared so much that it hurt. It made the spot in her chest right above her heart ache and burn. It was a sting she couldn’t even properly put into words. 

Kelley’s glass hit the table with more force than she meant for it to, and Emily’s hand tightened on her thigh. 

“I can’t be on your side when you do things like this,” Emily said, disappointment dripping from her voice. 

“For the record, I was never on your side,” Kelley interrupted her lip curling. 

“We talked about this,” Emily continued as if Kelley hadn’t spoken. “And this isn’t-“

“I’m trying, alright,” Lindsey bit out, interrupting the blonde defender. “I thought he would get the message,” 

She had been ignoring him for weeks. She didn’t invite him, but suddenly he was here. 

Kelley snorted, crossing her arms. “And now he’s here,” 

The older defender shook her head. She could still feel the black vein on your neck pulsing beneath her fingers like a dark promise. A siren of what was to come. A warning light that hadn’t been there before you had come face to face with him.

Emily’s fingers tightened on her. She wasn’t supposed to fight with Lindsey. She wasn’t supposed to get involved, she had promised you she wouldn’t but… she couldn’t just sit and watch. 

Not while you were so insistent on ripping yourself apart to keep the truth from Lindsey. 

Emily sighed, running the hand not holding Kelley through her hair. She knew she needed to pick her words carefully. 

“You know how to be a good human Lindsey,” She said slowly, pushing herself to stand. You shouldn’t be left to your own devices for long. “and you’re running out of time,”

She sent the midfielder a meaningful look before turning on her heel and heading off to find you. 

Kelley watched her leave, also pushing herself to stand. 

She paused, tapping her knuckle on the table and looking directly into Lindsey’s burning blue eyes. “You need to make the right choice,” 

She didn’t wait for Lindsey to reply before she too left the table, only taking a second to send Ty a glare as he reappeared at the table before heading out the door. 

Lindsey could only watch her, slightly stunned. Her hand idly came up to rub the spot right above her heart that never stopped aching. 

“Everything alright?” Ty asked, his hand landing heavily on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped to meet his. It burned where he touched her. It made the ice prickle in her veins. It felt… wrong. 

He looked concerned for her. He cared about something that he didn’t understand because he cared for her. It made the acid in her stomach bubble. 

He slid into the seat beside her, wrapping his arm more tightly around her. 

“Everything's fine,” She muttered, leaning into him, frowning when his warmth did nothing to soothe the prickling in her veins or the pain in her chest. 

He squeezed her shoulder. “You sure?” 

She sent him a very tight smile and a short nod. “Everything is wonderful,” 

He mirrored her, kissing her forehead and returning to his meal. 

His lips burned, and all she could feel was the impression of yours. How many times had you kissed her forehead after an intimate moment or comforted her when things looked bad? How many times had you wrapped your arm around her so she could snuggle into your chest? 

It made the pit in her stomach deepen, and she had no idea how she could stop it. 

*****

You didn’t think yourself to be a superstitious person, but you liked to keep your pre-game ritual similar. You liked your process. It helped you get your head in the right space, and you desperately needed something that would let you focus on anything other than Lindsey and her boyfriend. 

Your hands shook as you wrapped your red pre-wrap around your wrist, counting each pass in your head. 

It was something you had done since the middle of your run with PSG in France. A tradition that fans talked about online, but no one ever asked about it directly. 

For that you were thankful. 

The only person who understood was Lindsey. She had seen the lines that littered the inside of your wrists and arms. The lines that had been a physical manifestation of your pain. Habits that you had relied on off and on since your time in France. Once you had only given up after Emily made you promise. After she saved you from Florida. 

A part of you wished she hadn’t saved you. 

The coral had felt good digging into your back, slicing you open like cheese on a grater as the ocean waves had their way with you. It felt good to give up control. To just be. You remembered the moment that your foot tether got caught on the rocks. How you hadn’t panicked. How you felt almost… relieved.  How you stopped trying to reach for the diving knife you always kept on you or the velcro still around your ankle.  

You could still feel the burn of the salty ocean water as it fought its way past your lips, how it stung your nose and throat as you finally let go. You could still see the last bubble that escaped your lungs as the water rushed in and the diver's wide eyes as she cut you free just seconds before it was too late. 

Your oxygen-deprived brain had been convinced it was Lindsey coming to save you. That you weren’t nothing to her. 

And then you had woken up to bright lights and beeping machines. 

A hand covered your own, catching the athletic tape slipping through your fingers before it could fall to the ground. Your eyes snapped up to meet its owner, softening at Sofia’s shy smile. 

“Want some help?”

She gestured towards your arms, shaking the tape in her hand. 

Your eyes followed it, and you sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth. 

The only person who had ever helped you with your tape was Lindsey. 

It was frustrating how intertwined you were with her, even when she didn’t want you. How you had shared so much of your life with her while she shared hers with him. 

“Or I can get Kelley or Emily,” Sofia said quickly, misinterpreting your hesitation. “You just look like you shouldn’t be alone,” 

“No, I,” You shook your head. The words were caught in your throat. Trapped there by an invisible ocean of rushing water surging into your lungs. 

You missed Huerta's gesture towards Kelley behind your shoulder or the way several of your teammates were looking at you with worried eyes. 

You only noticed when a warm, familiar hand landed on your shoulder, a thumb brushing the little black vein creeping up your neck. 

“Hey, Y/n take some deep breaths,” She said, very close to your ear, trying to keep her voice soft and calming. “Em will be back here in a few minutes. She just had to talk to the staff about her jersey,” 

You shook your head. “I’m ok Kell,”

She raised her eyebrow at you, unimpressed, and her fingers pressed into the little black vein just above your elbow as Huerta began to do your wrap. “You aren’t, and we both know it,”

You were pretty sure the entire team knew by this point, especially if the pitying looks Alex and Megan were sending your way were anything to go off of. It wasn’t like you were doing a good job of hiding it. 

You had never been good at pretending and you were just so tired. 

“I just need to make it through pre-game, and I’ll be fine,” You said too quickly. The field had always been your safe space, the game the only place where you felt free. If you could just make it there, then maybe you could postpone the inevitable. Maybe it would give you enough time not thinking for you to pull yourself together. 

Kelley let out a long sigh, her fingers squeezing your shoulder. “And then what?”

“I’ll play the game,” You answered automatically, robotically. 

“Then what happens after the game?” Kelley pressed, just as Sofia let go of your wrist and caught your other arm. 

You instantly ran it through your hair, closing your eyes tightly. “I haven’t really thought that far,” 

Sofia tried to keep her eyes on your arm, tried not to look towards the little sliver of skin that appeared when you shifted again and tried not to notice the angry black lines just barely visible below the hem of your jersey. 

She swallowed hard, focusing too much on finishing the wrap on your arm. 

She knew where marks like that came from, the entire team did. She knew that if she asked you about it, it would likely push you over the edge, the one you were already teetering on. 

“Pretending that it doesn’t exist won't make it disappear,” Kelley murmured, her thumb squeezing the place between your shoulder and neck, trying to alleviate the tension she felt there. 

You shrugged off her hand, catching the tape from Sofia’s grasp as she made the last turn around your wrist. “What other choice do I have?” 

Your voice was cold and thin. Like taking a step on a lake that was barely frozen over. It held a danger Sofia didn't necessarily understand beneath the surface, but it was enough. 

She cleared her throat, blinking up at you as she tore the tape roll from the piece secured to your arm, ignoring the glares burning into the side of her face from across the room. 

“I think you always have a choice,” She mumbled, pushing herself to stand. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

“Soph,” Kelley said gently, trying to cut the defender off. 

Sofia shook her head. “No. It’s true. We always have a choice,” 

A very small smile cracked across your features at her insistence. At her innocence. You very gently squeezed Kelley. Telling her that it was ok. “The problem is, someone else got to make it for me,” 

Sofia frowned her eyes darting over your shoulder, and you opened your mouth to continue. To try and explain the mess of a situation you found yourself in. How the only choice you had was to suffer for her. 

But you didn’t have to. She took a step forward, catching your hand. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve got the youngins and me behind you. No matter what,” 

You nodded once, swallowing the lump suddenly caught in your throat. 

She squeezed your arm for a long second before moving past you. 

You watched her go, your eyes trailing over her form and towards Lindsey who was shooting daggers your way. 

Kelley’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “it’s not just the youngins,” She said, sending a glare back toward Lindsey. “You’ve got the entire locker room behind you,”

You shrugged her off, ducking your head away from Lindsey’s burning eyes and moving back towards your locker. “I don’t need anyone to fight. That’s not fair to her,” 

You didn’t even notice how your hand instinctively came up to rub at the ever-present twinge in your chest. 

“And none of this is fair to you,” Kelley said sternly, her eyes never leaving Lindsey’s. 

You sighed. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate Kelley’s protectiveness, it was just that you were so tired, and she was making your plan to ignore the ache in your chest even more difficult than it already was. You didn’t need any more reasons to fall apart, not when you were already struggling to hold the frayed ends of yourself together. 

You just needed to make it through the game, and then you could disappear to Antarctica to die in peace. 

“Can we just… not?” You muttered, finally letting your exhaustion peek through the cracks in your voice. Kelley’s head snapped towards the sound, and a little part of you instantly hated the vulnerability leaking through your shell. “I just need to get through this game,” 

She blew out a long breath of her own, and you knew she wanted to argue. To say that pushing it all down wouldn’t do anyone any good, but she didn't. She nodded once, “Yeah, we can just not,” 

******

The game against Korea was… frustrating. More frustrating than you had expected it to be. 

You just couldn’t seem to get your head in the game, which was strange because the only part of your life that wasn’t falling apart was the pitch. 

Everything just felt off. You couldn’t connect with Lindsey and all 12 of your shots had either pinged off the crossbar or landed safely in the keeper's waiting hands. 

It was infuriating, and as the minutes slowly ticked by, you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. Your passes to Alex and Mal were wide, your collection of balls from Sofia was increasingly sloppy and any chance you had at that point was shit. You could feel yourself giving in to your inner turmoil. Giving in more and more to the building pressure and Vlatko’s unhelpful demands. 

It was pathetic and you couldn’t help but despise yourself. 

By the time the final whistle blew, you were just done. More done than you could ever remember being. 

You always sought to find your limit. To push yourself until you couldn’t push yourself anymore. You always claimed you hadn’t found the edge yet. 

But here you were, teetering on the wrong side of it. 

You hoped maybe a shower would tether you to reality. That the hot water would be a welcome solace. That it would be the balm to the burning ache that settled heavily in your chest. 

You hoped that the universe would give you a fucking break for once. 

But of course, it couldn’t. 

You barely paid attention to the fans as you quickly finished your mandatory lap around the field, and headed towards the tunnel, ignoring the people calling your name as you slipped inside. 

The sight that met you made you wish you hadn’t. It made you wish you had pretended to be fine for them. 

It made your heart stop. 

The sight of him pressing her into the wall, their lips connected. Of his hands heavy on her hips, and her fingers tangled in the baby hairs at the back of his neck. Of his thigh working its way between her legs and the way she leaned into the feeling. 

It made your chest bubble and your stomach churn, but you couldn’t force yourself to look away. 

You were just… frozen. 

You were stuck, wondering if it had looked the same way when you kissed her. If she had melted against you like she melted for him. If the two of you fit as seamlessly as they did. If her head tilted the same way, trying to get a better angle. If she enjoyed his kisses as much as she enjoyed yours. 

You could almost imagine her mouth against yours. The passion and love that you could always feel when she kissed you. How it filled you from the tips of your toes to the very top of your ears. It was another part of her that was imprinted on your soul. 

It was like watching a trainwreck, and you reveled in the morbid curiosity. In the knife twisting in your chest, slicing through your already torn heart with little care. 

She was kissing him where everyone could see them. Where a camera could spot them down the tunnel. Where the cheering of fans had just barely dulled.

It struck you like the wrong note on a guitar. 

She was proud to be his. 

She was never proud to be yours. Hell, she was never even yours. She was ashamed of you, and she kept you hidden like a dirty little secret. 

It was pathetic that you couldn’t see it until now. That you had been too stubborn to accept that she would never want you. Not when she had him. 

You were pathetic. Unwanted. Completely unlovable. 

The realization was like a grenade exploding in your chest, blowing apart the little pieces of your heart that were left.

“Come on,” 

Warm hands were suddenly on your shoulder, and a voice was very close to your ears, but you barely heard it over the roaring in your head or the pounding of your heart. 

The hands urged you forward, towards the locker room and away from the scene. It felt like you were underwater, the halls passing too slowly and too quickly all at the same time. The lines of the concrete walls blurred together. Your stomach rolled just as the locker room door swung open, and you were pushed into a seat. 

“I can't fucking believe her,” Emily hissed, slamming the door carelessly behind her. 

Kelley sighed, settling down beside you and catching your hand. “I can,” 

You hadn’t even realized your nails were digging into your chest, clawing at your racing heart, trying to get to the burning ice it was pushing through your veins.  Your stomach bubbled, and you could feel the bile climbing to the back of your throat. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” 

The words barely left your lips before a trash can was pressed into your chest. 

Kelley rubbed your back as you heaved, emptying what little was in your stomach into the trash can. “Let it out, kid,” 

You grimaced, pulling away when you were finished, accepting a towel from Emily as she took the trash can. You wiped your mouth, ignoring the pity radiating from her. 

You didn’t want her pity. You didn’t want anyone’s pity. You wanted to disappear. To… never have existed, to begin with. 

Emily blew out a long breath, settling beside you, her head resting in her palms. “She just… I thought she was sorry. I thought…”

“It’s not your fault,” You croaked, shaking your head. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault but your own. If you weren’t so weak then maybe Lindsey would think you were worthy of her. 

“No. This is all on Lindsey,” Alex said, her voice edging on exasperation. “I don’t know what the fuck she was thinking,” 

You blinked up at them, realizing for the first time that your other teammates had followed you, Emily, and Kelley, back. That you weren’t alone. 

It was like a switch flipped in your head. Like the volume of a radio getting turned up to 11. The voices of your teammates blurred together around you in an indignant symphony of too much sound.

 You couldn’t handle it. You didn’t have enough emotional fortitude to deal with this. Not in a way that wouldn’t upset them. 

Your fingers dug into your temples. You didn’t want them to be involved. 

“Stop,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper.   

The room froze in response, their pitying gazes sinking into your form. 

You didn’t want their pity either. 

You cleared your throat, trying to push through the croakiness. “I’m too tired to deal with this shit. I just-“ 

The words died on your lips as the locker room door swung open, and Lindsey stepped into the room. 

Everyone's attention snapped to her, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down her form. You couldn’t help how you traced the flyaway hairs pulled from her tight ponytail, the slight swelling of her lips, or the way her jersey was slightly bunched just above her waist. It was evidence. The final nails in an already closed coffin. 

You cleared your throat again, tearing your eyes away from her and examining your still cleat-covered foot, ignoring the suffocating tension that had built in the room. “I think I’m just gonna go to the bus and catch a nap. I’ll shower when we get back to the hotel,” 

The words sounded robotic as they left your lips, scratchy in a way that your voice rarely was, almost like someone else was saying them. 

They hung in the air for a long minute as you gathered the strength to push yourself to your feet. 

“Oh,” Lindsey breathed out, but you ignored it, focusing instead on trying to keep your legs from wobbling as you shoved yourself up. 

“I’ll come with you,” Kelley said, mirroring your move stand and casually wrapping an arm around your waist, steadying you.  “I’m tired too. A nap might be good,” 

A part of you wanted to be annoyed with the defender, but the larger, exhausted part of you was grateful for her protectiveness. 

You leaned into her, letting her care and safety wrap around you, as she guided you out of the room. 

You knew she couldn’t shield you for forever, but you would take any moment of peace that you could get. 

*****

Lindsey stood frozen as you brushed past her, Kelley’s glare daring her to try and stop you.

It filled her with a feeling she didn’t quite understand. 

She could feel the angry gazes of her teammates as she trudged back to her locker. They were like sites on a gun, and she was waiting for whatever bullet they wanted to send. 

“Do I have something on my face?” She asked toward no one in particular as she pulled off her boots and socks. “Or are we starting a new trend where we stare as people undress,” 

“Kelley’s right,” Sofia said, her voice breaking through the murmurs spreading around the locker room. “You’re fuck-“

“No,” Emily interrupted the young defender, with a small shake of her head, looking more tired than Lindsey had ever seen her. “Y/n doesn’t want us to fight,” 

“Let her finish Em,” Lindsey spat back, annoyed even if she didn’t have a right to be. Even if she was in the wrong. Being angry was easier than facing the truth. “Get it off your chest. What is Kelley right about?” 

“That it would feel more fair if you pretended to give a fuck,” Emily said softly before Sofia could answer, and Emily saw recognition in the other defender's eyes.

It was the least inflammatory thing Kelley had said. The only thing that didn’t indicate malicious intent in Lindsey’s actions. The only true thing that hopefully wouldn’t cause Lindsey to dig her heels in more. 

They weren’t sure how much more digging you could take. 

“I do give a fuck,” Lindsey hissed, accentuating the irritation she felt at the jab. 

Sofia scoffed. “Yes, because kissing your boyfriend just feet from the edge of the tunnel you knew your soulmate was going to walk down is totally giving a fuck,” 

Lindsey finally looked up at the young defender, meeting her burning glare. 

Her lip curled at the implication. “That wasn’t planned,” 

“And you were trying your hardest to stop it weren’t you?” Sofia bit back sarcastically, ignoring Emily’s hand on her arm. The warning to slow down.  “That’s why you were pulling him closer to you instead of pushing him away,” 

Lindsey's eyebrows furrowed. She hadn’t been expecting the venom in those words. The disdain. Maybe from Kelley, or even Alex, Tobin, and Christen, sure. She expected the vets to be upset because they understood the history she had with you. 

She never expected someone new to the team to butt into an already complicated situation. One they clearly didn’t understand. 

“What the fuck is your problem,” Lindsey bit back, squinting at the defender. “I don’t know why you think you have the right to comment-“ 

“Because no one else will,” Sofia growled. “We’re watching Y/n destroy herself and no one will say anything because she cares too much about you to let us. Someone needs to care about her, and it certainly isn’t you,” 

“Soph,” Emily attempted to interrupt her, to cut off the building anger crackling off of Lindsey’s form, and to stop Sofia from saying something that you didn’t want Lindsey to know. 

“No. Don’t Soph me. She needs to know!” The defender bellowed, her chest heaving as she finally ripped her eyes away from Lindsey. “Fuck whatever convoluted chivalrous act Y/n wants to pretend she’s committing. You’ve seen the-“

“That’s enough.” Emily snapped, authority filling her voice, silencing Huerta before she could finish her sentence. 

Huerta met her eyes, and an unspoken conversation passed between them. 

Lindsey’s eyes widened at the sentence. What had Emily seen that she hadn’t? She knew you were in pain, that was obvious, but was there something that she wasn’t seeing? 

She needed to know. 

“No, let her continue since she thinks she knows Y/n so well,” Lindsey said, purposefully raising her eyebrow. Trying to get a reaction. “It’s been what, 2 months since you’ve met her?” 

Emily’s blue eyes darted back to her. “Enough,” The defender said, gesturing for Sofia towards the bathroom. “Go take your shower. Vlatko wants you for media,” 

Sofia frowned. “But,”

Emily shook her head. “Go,” 

Sofia swallowed hard, but nodded, angrily grabbing her change of clothing and doing as she was told. 

Both blondes watched as Sofia left, and a charged silence stretched between them. 

You had asked Emily not to get involved. You told her you didn’t want her in the middle. 

That didn’t mean she wasn’t. 

“I told you to be a good human. I told you to have a hard conversation,” Emily said softly, turning back to her own locker, but no one mistook exactly who she was addressing. “Instead you chose to flaunt him in front of her,” 

“Like she wasn’t flaunting whatever is going on with her and Sofia,” Lindsey scoffed before she could stop herself. Just saying the words out loud had a strange ache forming just above her heart. One that had nothing to do with the jealousy that bubbled in her stomach any time she saw the attention you gave the defender. 

Especially when she was on her knees, wrapping your arms before the game. 

Emily paused, gripping her sweatshirt and turning back towards her best friend, an incredulous look plastered across her features. “Do you even fucking hear yourself? You still think this is a game, don’t you?”

Lindsey didn’t answer, instead choosing to pick at a hangnail on her thumb. She didn’t think it was a game, but if you were going to ignore her and Ty wasn’t, then maybe she hadn’t seen the harm. Maybe she wanted you to feel the jealousy bubbling in her veins. 

Maybe she hadn’t thought it through. 

Emily shook her head. “I’m not even sure it matters. I think you’re out of time,” 

She didn’t add that she wasn’t on Lindsey’s side anymore either as she exited the room and that she was pretty sure most of their team echoed her sentiment. 

*****

Your fingers dug into the marble countertop of the hotel bathroom, your nails scraping at the surface like they would keep you from falling over the edge. Like the pressure would stop the anvil on your chest from caving your sternum in.

Water pooled on the surface and the floor below you, still dripping from the shower. 

You understood why Kelley had been reluctant to leave you while the team went to dinner, but you promised you just wanted a shower. You just wanted to sleep when Lindsey couldn’t follow you. 

You dragged your eyes from the gold-plated faucet to the mirror. You paused at the angry back web that began just above the towel around your waist. The pulsing lines that now covered your stomach, tracing back to a solid black circle the size of a baseball right over your heart, continued over your shoulder and down your left arm, nearly past your elbow. 

The dark marks were accented by the deep red of your skin, abused by the too-hot water in the shower and your incessant scrubbing. 

An Ill thought attempt to remove her mark on you. To get rid of the traces she had left. 

Pathetic 

You sneered the words in your head, forcing your eyes up the column of your throat and meeting them in the mirror. 

They reminded you of a shark's eyes. Cold and unfeeling. Completely soulless. 

That was how this would all end, wasn’t it? 

The dark mark was just a representation of the punishment the universe was inflicting on you. That Lindsey was inflicting on you for being unworthy after all. 

You would lose everything that you were. It would be taken from you, piece by piece until all that was left was a shell only capable of feeling pain and misery. 

You once thought that feeling nothing would be worse, but now it was all you longed for to be removed from your emotions. To not feel the pain and agony that had become your closest allies. 

You tighten your grip on the counter, hoping it could help steady the building storm in your chest. 

You deserved the pain. 

Your mother had been telling you since you could walk, but you were just too afraid to listen. 

You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable. 

It was almost funny how it was her voice cackling in your head. 

You shouldn’t have been shocked. Why would Lindsey choose you over him? She wouldn’t.

She didn’t. 

You were nothing compared to him. You were nothing at all.  

Lindsey had said so herself the night of your World Cup win, as she shoved your lips off of her neck and kicked you out of the closet the two of you were sharing. She told you it was a mistake. Meaningless. 

Weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing. 

Lindsey’s voice joined your mother’s, repeating the words in your head over and over. 

And you blinked up at yourself in the mirror, realizing that your hands had moved to clutch at your ears. To stop the word’s running around your brain. 

Your face morphed in the mirror, your mother's sneer replacing your features. 

No one would ever want you. You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable. 

Nothing. 

You felt the walls of the room closing in on you, your mothers cackling laugh echoing through your head so loudly it was shaking the room. Shaking the mirror. 

You needed everything to stop moving. 

Weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing. 

You needed it to stop. 

The mirror cracked before your eyes, the pain radiating through your hand only after the tremendous crash drowned out their voices. 

It didn’t hurt though. It felt good. But it wasn’t enough. 

Your fist collided with the glass again, and again and again. Intent on obliterating the face staring back at you. Intent on destroying your face. 

Piece by piece your reflection collapsed, leaving only glittering shards in its place. 

You were only satisfied when your entire form disappeared and just a blank white and red wall was left. 

You blew out a shuddering breath, stumbling backward and sliding down the wall until you were leaning against the tub, uncaring of the glass pieces prickling at your bare skin. 

At least you were feeling something other than your internal pain. At least it was tangible. 

You picked up one of the larger shards, catching a blue eye in its reflection. 

You were just a mistake. We are nothing. You are nothing. 

Lindsey’s words echoed around your brain, pricking at your veins, and your hand unintentionally tightened around the shard. 

Why did you think she would pick you? 

You were weak. Worthless. Unlovable. Nothing. 

*******

Kelley knew that they should not have left you after the game. 

She knew that it was a very bad idea, despite your insistence that you were just going to take a shower and maybe watch some television while they got dinner with the team. 

She trusted that you were stable enough to do that. But She could just feel that something bad was going to happen. It was like a snake slithering through her ribs and settling deep in her bones. 

As she stepped into your shared hotel room, she knew trusting you had been a very bad idea. 

Very, very, very bad.

Her breath caught as she stepped into the hotel room, the open bathroom door immediately caught her attention. Her eyes were drawn to your stoic form, sitting in a towel, propped up against the tub. A sea of glass surrounded you, glinting off the harsh fluorescent lights speckled with little flecks of red. Like islands dotted around the ocean. 

But the thing that made her stomach curl was the dark mark on your torso. The epicenter was right at the center of your chest with tentacle-like veins stretching across your abs and shoulder, twisting along your neck and arm, pulsing with bubbling black sludge in time with your heart. 

It reminded Kelley of a murder scene from one of the old horror movies Emily liked to watch. Like a horrifically poetic monstrosity of modern art. 

“Holy fuck,” Emily breathed out right next to Kelley’s left ear. 

She knew you could be self-destructive, but she hadn’t expected this… maybe she should have. 

You didn’t move at the sound. You didn’t even look over at them. You just looked… blank and it sent an unpleasant shiver down Emily’s spine. 

She hadn’t seen that look on your face since Florida. 

“Go get her some clothes, I’m going to try to get her out of here,” Kelley sighed. 

You couldn’t stay in a bloody towel especially if you had cut yourself worse than the scratches Kelley could already see, and you couldn’t exactly walk out with all the glass on the floor. 

“Yeah,” Emily nodded, squeezing Kelley’s hips before moving around her and further into the hotel room. 

Kelley took a long steadying breath, stepped forward, her shoes crunching in the shattered glass, and squatted so she was at eye level with you. 

“Hey, Y/n,” She said gently, “How about we get you out of there? Ok?” 

You blinked listlessly at her, your head lolling to the side in what Kelley assumed was an acknowledgment. 

She took another shaky breath, again tracing down the black vein curing around your neck and down your arm. Besides the dark marks, your chest and torso appeared to be alright. So did your right hand, but your left… 

Your knuckles were stained red, dripping maroon droplets to your fingertips, pooling on the ground just beside your hip. 

“Y/n,” She tried again. Your hand shifted slightly in return, and that’s when she caught the glint of the glass shard in your palm. 

“Hey, sweetie, can you put the glass down for me please?” She asked, swallowing hard to hide the panic threatening to overtake her. She had to be calm for you. 

You blinked again, your hand shifting slightly, almost like you couldn’t process her words. Kelley tilted her head, catching your empty eyes. 

“Y/n,” Kelley said more sternly, hoping to break through whatever stoic wall you had put in place. “Drop the mirror,” 

Silence stretched between you for a long minute, before your fingers unwound from the shard in your hand. It hit the floor with a low tink, splashing in the liquid beside you. Still, Kelley felt the knot in her chest unwind just a little now that the immediate threat was gone. 

“Let’s get you up, ok?” She asked, extending a hand to you. “And dressed,” 

“The mirror broke,” You croaked out in response, and Kelley frowned. 

“I can see that,” She sighed, wiggling her fingers towards you. “let’s get you out of here, and we can call maintenance to take care of it,” 

You stared at the outstretched appendage for a long second, as though you were afraid of it before you slowly nodded. 

“I’m going to lift you,” she said gently, waiting for you to slowly nod again before she scooped you up and carefully carried you out of the bathroom. 

Emily smiled tightly at you as Kelley set you on your feet in front of their bed. Together they ran a towel down your legs to remove any extra glass and helped you into your sweats and t-shirt. 

You blew out a long breath when they were finished, settling on the end of the bed and allowing Kelley to guide your hand into her lap. Emily took your other side, idly rubbing your back as you both watched Kelley carefully began to examine the mangled flesh of your hand. 

She was methodical as she used a warm washcloth to compress your hand, moving it only to catch little peeks at the gashes in your knuckles and the slice right at the center of your palm. 

You flexed your fingers when she pressed just a bit too tightly, hissing in pain. 

Both defenders shared a long look. This wasn’t something they could patch up themselves, not when you were still actively bleeding. 

“We’re going to have to take you to Dawn,” Kelley said seriously, dabbing another bit of glass from the back of your hand, red oozing out after it. “I think you need stitches,” 

You nodded solemnly, unwilling to fight. 

There was nothing for you to fight for anyway. 

Kelley and Emily shared another worried look. They didn’t like how quiet you were. How still you were. It was somehow worse than when you were vocal about the pain you were in. 

It made them wonder about why the mirror had broken, and your intention behind it. 

Emily cleared her throat. “Y/n, was this like when you went surfing in Florida?” 

You shook your head, biting your lip. 

This felt very different from Florida. 

“What happened?” Kelley pressed, again peeking at the very deep gash on your palm. 

You squinted, trying to think of how to put it into words. 

Everything had just been too much, and you wanted your brain to stop. You wanted Lindsey to stop. You wanted the pain in your chest to go away and to feel anything other than the weight of your failure. 

“I just wanted it to stop,” You said finally, your voice horse and straining. “I needed it to stop,”

“Alright,” Kelley sighed. “Let’s get you to Dawn so she can clean you up,” 

You nodded once again, letting Kelley and Emily guide you to your feet and towards the door. 

Dawn would be able to help you.

*****

Emily blew out a long, shaky breath, leaning back into Kelley’s chest. Her eyes never left your form, tucked into a hospital bed. 

It had been surprisingly easy to convince you that you needed stitches, especially when Dawn told you that a hospital was your best option. 

You had answered all of her and the doctor's questions with shocking honesty and sat perfectly still as an intern stitched and wrapped the mangled flesh of your hand (but not before Kelley snapped a picture of it and the dark lines curling from your chest). 

“It’s not a permanent solution, but the medication we’ve given her should help for now,” The doctor explained carefully, gesturing towards you in the window. 

Emily hummed in agreement. 

The IV they gave you had the dark veins in your neck and shoulder retreating, leaving thin gray behind. It had the color returning to your eyes, even if they were still dull. It was enough and not nearly enough all at once. 

“How long do you think it’ll last?” Kelley asked very softly. 

The doctor’s shoulders lifted and fell. “It all depends on her soulmate,” 

Kelley nodded in understanding. 

Soulmate sickness was one of the most mysterious illnesses out there. One of the trickiest to stop. The only one that was dependent on another person's actions.

Lindsey’s actions were killing you. 

What was worse was that you were going to let her. 

“Thank you,” The older defender said towards the doctor, and he bid them goodbye. 

Emily let out another long breath. “How did it come to this?” 

She had never imagined that two of her teammates would be in a position like this. That Lindsey would put you in a position like this. 

Not with the history the two of you shared. 

“Well,” Kelley said, dragging out the word. “Lindsey is afraid of god knows what, and Y/n loves her so much she’s willing to let her be happy, even if it kills her,”

Emily made a low sound in the back of her throat. “We shouldn’t have left her alone,” 

Kelley’s arms tightened around her waist, and her nose nudged under Emily’s ear, before she let go, using insistent fingers on Emily’s hips to get her to turn around. 

“I don’t know that we could have stopped her,” Kelley said seriously, making eye contact with Emily’s gray. “I know you tried in Portland, but this is uncharted territory, even for her,” 

Emily’s eyes darted away from her, but Kelley didn’t let her pull away. “Em, you couldn’t have stopped her,” 

Emily nodded slightly. It was just hard. She had been looking out for you since you came to Portland. She was one of the first to know about your… situationship? Friends with benefits arrangement? With Lindsey. She was the first person you told that you had caught feelings. 

She saw the fallout the first time.  

She knew about the little lines that had littered the insides of your thighs. She knew how they had appeared no matter how hard she had tried to stop them.

But this was different. They had no idea how you had broken the mirror, or how long you sat in the mess. Dawn guessed that the wounds had been open for at least an hour and from the amount of blood in the bathroom. They were just lucky you hadn’t dropped the piece of glass until they got there, or tried to pick the smaller pieces out of your skin. 

“I know,” Emily murmured, leaning forward so her forehead touched Kelley’s. “I just hate seeing her like this,”

“I do too,” Kelley agreed softly. 

“What do we do?” Emily asked, her voice cracking. 

“Tobin and Christen are on their way, so we wait until they get here,” Kelley said, pulling back just slightly to peek at your still sleeping form through the window.  “and in the meantime, we do the only thing we can do,” 

She pulled her phone from her back pocket and flicked through her contacts. She found the one she was looking for and typed out a simple text, including 3 pictures. 

Emily’s hand covered the screen, stopping her from hitting the send button. “Is that a good idea?” 

“Do you have a better one?” Kelley asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Emily sighed, shaking her head, and pulling her hand away. 

She didn’t have a better idea. She had no idea how to navigate this situation at all. 

Kelley pressed the button and then tucked her phone away again. 

She turned back towards your sleeping form. “Now, let’s go keep her company,” 

Emily hummed. That was all they could do. Keep you company and keep you together until more experienced hands arrived. 

Hopefully, you didn’t have any more chunks missing by the time they got there. 

You had made it back from the brink of disaster once, now they had to pray you had the will to do it again. 

*****

It was safe to say that this night had not gone at all the way Lindsey had planned, not that she had a brilliant plan to begin with. 

She let out a breath, glancing down at the man beside her. Her eyes traced his bare chest, down his arms to where their fingers were intertwined. 

She didn’t know he was coming. She hadn’t anticipated that he wouldn’t take her ducking and dodging as hints that she didn’t want him to come. 

She also didn’t anticipate your reaction. You barely even looked at her, and it had unexpected jealousy creeping in her veins until she let him kiss her in an effort to get you to finally notice. To have some kind of reaction that wasn’t stoicism. 

The incident in the locker room after should have been expected. Her two worlds had collided and it ended in destruction that even she couldn’t have predicted. 

An unmitigated disaster with you at the epicenter. 

Her disaster. 

She blew out another long breath. 

There was another reason she didn’t push him away, one that was even more difficult for her to acknowledge. Pushing him away would mean admitting that there was something wrong in their relationship. It would raise red flags that she wasn’t ready to face, especially with her parents in town too. 

If they knew… she was sure they would reject her. 

But in the process of protecting herself, she hurt you. She didn’t know exactly how much, but it was enough to send her teammates into a frenzy. 

It was enough to turn the locker room against her, despite your apparent efforts to get them to remain neutral. 

She wasn’t surprised, even she was against herself. She just… didn’t know how to fix it. She didn’t even know where to start. 

Well, that was a lie. She did know where to start. Emily told her where to start. She was just too much of a coward to do it. 

It made her hate herself. She didn’t want to hurt you. She never wanted to hurt you. 

Her phone dinged from the bedside table, and she couldn’t resist the urge to grab it, hoping that it was you. 

It wasn’t. 

Still, she swiped Kelley’s notification. She wished she hadn’t. 

It was a sentence she would never forget. 

I think you should see what you’re doing to her.

Below it were three photos. 

The first was of knuckles, torn and jagged. Sliced over and over by a force she didn’t know. The second was a palm cut nearly to the bone, tendons, and muscle peeking from its uneven edges. Both were wet, oozing, fresh. 

But it was the 3rd picture that stole the air from her lungs and set her chest on fire. Bubbling, and burning, in an ache that spread with every beat of her heart. 

It was a zoomed-out photo of the arm and shoulder attached to the mangled hand. Dark tendrils stretched from the elbow, winding around the arm, over the shoulder. It crept up the neck, and towards a pitch-black bruise right above the person's heart. 

You should see what you’re doing to her.

Lindsey shook her head. Right above your heart. 

“Fuck,”

“Wha’,” Ty mumbled, sitting up with bleary eyes, catching a glimpse of the grotesque image on the phone. He grabbed the device, pulling it closer. “Shit, is that one of your teammates?”

Lindsey pressed her lips into a thin line, nodding minutely. If she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears from coming out.

She knew what lines like that on a person meant. 

Kelley and Sofia were right. 

She was killing you, and she hadn’t even known it. The bruise on your chest was just an outward manifestation of your decaying soul. Or maybe she knew, but she wasn’t strong or brave enough to stop it. She didn’t give enough of a fuck to stop it before it was too late. 

Emily was right too. She knew how to be a good human, and she had chosen not to. 

“Babe?” Ty asked gently, and it was then she realized that she was shaking. That the low sob echoing through the hotel room was coming from her. 

He dropped the phone and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug just as she fell apart. She buried her face in his chest, gut-wrenching sobs clawed their way from her lips like ripped pieces of her soul and landed against his skin. 

She hadn’t cried through any of this. She didn’t deserve to cry, not when she was the one responsible for your pain. For your suffering. 

“It’s alright, just let it out,” He murmured into her hair, rocking her gently. “I’ve got you,” 

He held her together like a good man… a good person should. 

And it made her feel worse because all she could think about was the feeling of your chest, of your arms wrapped around her. Your perfume in her nose and your hushed whispers reminding her that everything would be ok. 

She couldn’t be that for you. She couldn’t put her own needs aside, even when you were ripping yourself apart. 

Yet, he held her even when she didn’t deserve it. When she deserved for him to throw her away. 

Slowly, her sobs turned into sniffles, and she clung to him for dear life, for the last moments she knew he would let her. 

She couldn’t hide from reality anymore. She couldn’t hurt you anymore. 

“You gonna tell me what this is all about?” He asked softly into her hair, never forcing her out of his chest. 

She sucked in a shuttered breath, pulling herself away, wiping her eyes, and looking anywhere but at him. 

The time had finally come for the important conversation. For the truth. 

“I-“ She gulped around the words caught in her throat. She took another shuddering breath, steeling herself. “I met my soulmate,” 

A pregnant pause stretched between them, only broken when he reached across and gently caught her hand, squeezing once.

It took her another long second to gain the courage to look up and need his brown eyes. The resignation she saw there made her hate herself that much more. 

“How long ago?” The question was soft, and not at all what Lindsey was expecting. 

She bit her lip. “We had the dream almost 4 months ago,” 

A small sad smile pulled at his lips, as he caught her phrasing. “But you’ve known her for a lot longer?” 

Lindsey nodded. 

“We agreed we’d tell each other as soon as it happened,” He said, his voice staying gentle. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Lindsey said, suddenly finding their intertwined fingers interesting. 

She didn’t have more of an explanation. Not one that would be sufficient anyway. 

He sighed, running the hand not holding hers through his hair. Of course, he knew they would eventually meet their soulmates, but they had agreed to be open about it when it happened and to make those decisions together. 

That plan also hadn’t included another person in as much pain as Lindsey’s soulmate clearly was. It didn’t include them knowing their soulmate before the dream. 

But Lindsey did know her soulmate. Those photos had come from someone in the team, and he had a feeling he already knew exactly whose arm it was. 

“It’s y/n right?”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “How did you…?”

He just chucked, squeezing her hand again.

“It’s the way you two look at each other,” He explained gently, remembering how he noted the closeness Lindsey and you shared, even before he had met you. The blonde was always so at ease with you, even when she wasn’t open with him. He had been surprised at first that you two weren’t soulmates looking for a third. You just… fit too perfectly to not be soulmates. “I’ve thought you were meant to be for a long time,” 

“But I’m not gay,” Lindsey grumbled, crossing her arms, and Ty cracked a smile at her, shaking his head. The tension immediately dissipated from the room. 

Of course, that’s what the problem was. 

“There’s such a thing as bisexuality Linds,” He said as if it were obvious. “And I don’t think whatever label you pick matters when it comes to your soulmate,” 

It wasn’t like you got to choose your soulmate, but that fear was still there. She hadn’t considered that she might not have to choose a label. That you weren’t asking her to. All you wanted was the acknowledgment that she felt what you did.

That’s all that you had ever wanted from her. 

And she couldn’t even give you that. 

But she had him. This incredible person who was actively advocating for you, even when it meant that he would lose her. 

She also had you, who was willing to stand aside in agony if it meant she got to be happy. 

She shook her head. It wasn’t fair to compare the two of you, but she couldn’t help it. She could never help it. She loved him, but not in the way that she loved you. 

She was in love with you. She always had been. 

“You’re not mad?” She asked so softly, selfishly. She didn’t want to lose him. 

He shook his head, giving her hand another squeeze. “I’m disappointed you didn’t tell me sooner, but I’m not angry with you,”

More tears left Lindsey’s eyes without her permission, trailing hot paths down her cheeks, and he pulled her back into his chest. “I don’t want you to hate me,” 

He sighed, holding her closer, his finger weaving into her hair and gently scratching her scalp. It was a move he knew soothed her. One he had ironically learned from you. 

“I could never hate you, Linds,” He murmured the words into her hair, resting his chin on the crown of her head. “Not for this,”

Lindsey let out a wet laugh, pulling away. “Y/n does, and so do most of my teammates,”

Ty carefully brought his hands to her cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe the tears still trailing down her cheeks. “They don’t, they’re just disappointed too,” 

Again she was struck by how good he was. By how mature and caring he was. By how good of a father he would make one day. 

But his hands didn’t feel as soft as yours did. They didn’t make her feel as safe as yours did. 

The longing she felt for you was so deep in her bones it hurt, and the pictures Kelley sent her put the ball in her court. 

It was her job to make it right. 

“I need to fix it,” She mumbled, sniffling slightly. 

He smiled sadly again, leaning forward and placing a very sweet kiss on her forehead before pulling away and standing. “I have faith you will,” 

She watched him quietly as he pulled on his shirt, packed his small bag, and slid his shoes onto his feet before he paused by the edge of the bed. 

She couldn’t fight the sudden urge to reach out her fingers towards him, to be connected to him for what would most likely be the last time. 

He met her halfway, tangling their fingertips together in a slow dance. “If you ever need anything just call alright?” He said, and she felt his honesty. “I’m still your guy,” 

His fingers slipped from hers for the final time. 

He might be her guy, but she wasn’t his girl. 

Not anymore. 

She was yours. 

She just had to figure out how to tell you that. How to get you to forgive her? 

Silence echoed around her as he softly closed the door, and for once she felt totally and completely alone. 

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through contacts, looking for someone who would tell her what to do. 

She paused over Tobin’s contact photo. The forward had always been close to you, and she would know what to do, even if she would be disappointed in Lindsey. 

She pressed Tobin’s contact picture, holding the phone up to her ear and closing her eyes. 

Tobin was the only one who knew you as well as she knew herself. 

The phone rang twice before Tobin’s faint “hello” met her. 

“I fucked up,”

*****

Lindsey had never felt more exhausted in her entire life, not even after she had played 120 minutes in 100-degree weather. Not after running endless drills with you in France. Not even after looking all over for you after you disappeared the night of the World Cup. 

Never. 

It was a fatigue that settled deep in her bones, that followed her through every movement she made. That made it impossible for her to think about anything other than you. A weariness that had nothing to do with her lack of sleep. 

Her only saving grace was the warm cup of coffee. She sipped the dark liquid reverently, eyes shifting between her parents and the door every few minutes, waiting for you or Kelley, or Emily to step through the doors. 

To prove that the photos she had received last night were a bad dream. A cruel prank. 

But mornings after games tended to be slow, and this morning was no different. The few veterans who were in the meal room puttered about lazily, sending looks her way at odd intervals that made her feel like they knew something she didn’t know. 

Like they were scolding her without words. 

“Sweetie, are you ok?” Her mother’s hand caught her own, gently pulling the coffee cup from her hand. 

Lindsey blinked, once, twice, three times as the words filtered through her brain. 

Was she ok?

The definitive answer was no, absolutely not. 

Her world was crumbling around her, and the only person to blame was herself. She had hurt her soulmate so badly that she didn’t know if she would ever forgive her, and the thought of losing you made it hard to breathe. 

She didn’t know how to be without you, and now she was staring that very prospect in the face. 

She let out a shaky breath, blue eyes finally finding the courage to meet her mother's gaze. 

Concerned eyes she knew would turn cold and hard when she informed them of what she had done. Eyes that would surely reject her when they found out that you were a girl and not the dashing young man they had envisioned for her. 

It was like there was a world between them, a chiasm that they didn’t even know existed filled with the admission that she had been lying to them for a long time. Filled with a suffocating silence and words that Lindsey needed to say. 

She could hear Tobin in her head. “The first step is honesty. With yourself and everyone else,” and she knew with everything she was that the midfielder turned forward was right. 

The only way to undo this mess was to be honest. To untangle each half-truth one at a time. To mend each hurt with kept promises and replace each pretend moment with reality. 

The only way she was going to get you back was to confront her fear. That started with this. 

“No,” Lindsey said, shaking her head minutely. “I’m not ok. I messed up really bad, and I don’t know if I can fix it,” 

Her father frowned. “Is this about the game?”

“You played so well honey. Korea just had a bead on the team's offense,” Her mother added, using her free hand to grab Lindsey’s arm. 

She stared at them, slightly dumbfounded at how unseeing they were. How they didn’t seem to know her at all. How they didn’t even pick up on her inner turmoil. 

“No. I-“ She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “I had the soulmate dream,” 

“Oh,” Lindsey’s mother breathed out, leaning back in her chair. 

“By Ty’s lack of presence, I’m assuming it wasn’t with him?” Her father said, sipping his coffee. 

She shook her head. “No,”

“Well, we’ll have to meet the young man,” He added flatly, barely looking up from his cup. “He’s part of the family now,” 

“It’s not,” She took a gulping breath, before forcing the words past her lips. “My soulmate isn’t a young man,” 

Her father looked up, locking eyes with her mother. They shared a long look, the kind that only soulmates having a silent conversation could before her mother gently squeezed her hand. 

“Is it Y/n?”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed, entirely unexpecting of her mother’s response. “Wha?… how did you?”

“Sweetie,” Her mother smiled gently at her. “The two of you have been attached at the hip since the moment you met,” 

“We’ve been expecting this for a while,” Her father added gruffly. 

“And you’re alright with that?” Her voice cracked over the word, and her eyes ducked away. 

She knew how they felt about homosexuality. She had heard about it for her entire childhood. She didn’t want to lose them too. 

“You don’t get to choose your soulmate,” Her Father said, though he didn’t sound happy about the omission, but his voice lightened. “And Y/n is exceptional,” 

Her mother hummed, squeezing her hand again. “Plus Y/n always looks at you like you put the stars up in the sky, and she’s been nothing but polite to us,” 

Her father nodded once, and Lindsey took that as his agreement, though he didn’t soften. “An acceptable soulmate,” 

Lindsey felt the knot in her chest loosen, though she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about their assessment. She guessed acceptable and exceptional were the best she could expect from her father. 

“Now,” Her father said, leaning forward in his chair, setting his coffee on the table. “You said you messed up, tell us what happened,” 

She frowned at him, confused by his reaction, and his sudden interest. 

“I,” The words were caught in her throat as she finally met her dad's gaze. “I hurt her because I was afraid, and now I’m not sure that I can fix it,” 

“Afraid?” Her father grumbled, his eyes suddenly hard. “Of what? Y/n has never done anything to make you question her feelings,” 

“Of….” Lindsey took a deep steadying breath, working through his defense of you. Of the strange protectiveness? That had overcome him, while also working through how to phrase her answer. It threw her that they weren’t upset you were her soulmate.  “A lot of things. It doesn’t matter now,” 

Her father hummed, crossing his arms.

It was a gesture she had seen thousands of times before. One he liked to use after he heard both sides of the story when she would fight with her brother. One he used when she told him she was going to France instead of college. 

“Honey, you’re soulmates, but you’re also human,” Her mother hummed. “Give her time to process everything that’s happening, then apologize and let her come to you,” 

There was a beat of silence before her father sat back in his chair. 

“That girl loves you, and you love her too,” He added as if he was telling her that the defense used double pivots in transition. Like it was an undisputed fact. “You’ll figure it out,”

Lindsey swallowed hard. She knew she loved you, but it was unsettling that everyone else did too. That they all seemed to think that you would love her back after everything she had done.

“Y/n could never stay mad at you for long anyway,” Her mother chuckled, patting her hand, a stark contrast to her father's serious face. “Just go on her terms, and I’m sure she’ll be receptive to you,” 

She nodded, more to herself than to them. She could do that. She could wait and do things on your terms. She was sure Kelley and Emily and probably Tobin and Christen wouldn’t settle for anything less. 

A long silence stretched between them, before her father cleared his throat, grabbed his coffee, and leaned back into his chair. “Now that that’s settled, do you know who’s starting in the next game? Y/n got several very good shots off last time,”

“I um,” Lindsey shrugged, scratching the back of her neck, thinking of the photos of you in that stupid hospital bed. “I’m not sure,” 

She didn’t doubt Vlatko would let you play, even injured, but it made the ache in her chest worse to think about. Jill was bad in her own way, but at least she usually stuck to doctor-recommended injury return protocols. 

“Hmm,” Her father hummed, idly sipping his coffee as her mother went back to her tea. “We’ll have to just wait and see then,” 

Lindsey nodded again, thinking more about you than about the game. 

She would have to wait and see if you would be open to her again. To wait and see if she would ever be able to fix the damage she had caused. To wait for you to be ready. 

****

“This isn’t a good idea,” Dawn muttered, carefully wrapping your signature red pre-wrap around the thick white gauze on your hand, and the plastic splint holding your palm in a fixed position. “You should be resting,” 

“The field is the only place I can think clearly. It’s better if I play,” Your shoulders lifted and fell. “Does there have to be so much wrapping? It looks more like a club than a hand,” 

Christen rolled her eyes at the statement. 

She should have expected it with the blase attitude you had dawned since the moment she arrived, but your lack of care for your health was still rather astonishing. She couldn’t exactly blame you though, not after Kelley told her what happened. 

At least the parts that the defender knew. You still wouldn’t talk about what happened in the bathroom. 

“You sliced into the muscle of your palm. You’re lucky you didn’t lose the mobility in your fingers, and now you have convinced your coach to let you play not even 72 hours later,” Christen sighed, rubbing your right shoulder gently. 

“Yes, the gauze has to be this thick, we don’t want any of the stitches to accidentally re-open,” Dawn explained gently. 

She didn’t mention that she was adding extra to try and shield you from prying eyes. To keep the commentary teams and the media from speculating about the still gray lines extending past your elbow. 

You hummed in understanding, blinking away from the women and to the small paper you had found in your locker. 

It wasn’t the first note that had magically appeared, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

It made you feel like you were in high school, passing notes, except you refused to pass back. You didn’t even see the point in reading them. As far as you were concerned, you and Lindsey had nothing to say to each other anyway. 

But still, she kept trying. 

It was weird, and you felt a little like a yo-yo being yanked back and forth. You assumed it was from pity. You didn’t want her pity. 

“Did she send you another one?” Christen asked, her voice going soft. 

You swallowed hard, holding the little blue paper between your fingers, avoiding the loopy pen marks it wore. “Yep,” 

“Do you want me to see what it says?” She pressed carefully. 

You held it out toward the forward in a familiar gesture. She had read all of the notes. “If you want,” 

It was the same response you had given to all the little notes. The same… unbothered indifference. 

She very slowly reached out and plucked the note from your hand, opening it and reading over the words. “Do you want to know what it says?” 

“Nope,” You popped the p, pulling your hand away as Dawn tore off the pre-wrap and pressed it to your arm. “If I wanted to know, I would have read it,” 

“Let me get you a pill and you can go warm up,” Dawn said, pushing herself to her feet. 

“It’s mostly the same as the others,” Christen continued as if you hadn’t said you didn’t care. “She wonders if you’ve read any of the notes,” 

“There have been 10 and you and Tobin have given me the gist of them all,” You muttered, accepting the small, metallic-colored pill from dawn, popping it in your mouth, and swallowing it with a sip of water. 

You just didn’t see the point in reading them. Lindsey never kept her word anyway. 

 “Plus, it’s not like it’ll make this go away,”  You waved your hand over your chest, vaguely gesturing to where you knew the deep bruise sat.

You glanced at Dawn who nodded. “The only known cure to soulmate sickness is physical contact,” 

“So there’s no point,” You shrugged, pushing yourself off the table. “Am I free to go now?” 

“Yes,” Dawn said. “Just take it easy, alright,” 

You paused at the door. “What’s the point, I’m going to die anyway. Why not have fun first,” 

Christen grimaced as the door slammed shut. “I hate it when she jokes like that,”

“I’m not sure it was a joke,” Dawn mumbled, making eye contact with the forward. “The medication will slow it down, but it can’t stop the effects entirely,” 

The apathy. The emptiness in your eyes. The loss of your sunny personality. 

You would lose yourself entirely, and then you would lose your life. 

******

You knew the dream was coming before you fell asleep. You could feel it. 

It felt like a punishment from the universe. A punishment for ignoring Lindsey’s notes. Punishment for letting Kelley, Emily, Christen, and Tobin run interference so you didn’t have to deal with her. A punishment for protecting yourself. 

But it still disoriented you when your eyes flickered open. 

You would never get used to the too-bright colors or the way the light blended into a too-vivid scene that felt real. A scene that made you suddenly feel right. Whole.

A scene you knew was a lie. 

You glanced around the room. A long, open space with little cubbies and nameplates. It was familiar. A locker room like any other. 

You didn’t feel like reading the names to see what part of your past it was from. You just didn’t… care. 

You let out a long breath, shuffling back into the empty cubby and turning sideways. You tucked your knees to your chest, rested your chin on them, and closed your eyes. You were content to wait it out. To pretend.

The bench creaked beside you, but you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t have to to know who it was. The warmth that filled your hollow chest was enough. Plus there was only one human on the planet who could crash your dreams. 

Lindsey hesitantly cleared her throat, and you heard her shift beside you. “Good game,” 

You hummed. 

It was a good game. Very good. 

You ended up with a first-half hat trick thanks to a stellar cross from Huerta and an assist from Rose. It helped that Vlatko hadn’t let you and Lindsey on the field at the same time (she came on at the half when you were subbed out). 

You were sure how much of that was his doing and how much was demanded by the team and medical staff. 

You had barely seen Lindsey in general, other than when she was on the bench, and you knew that was done by design. When Emily and Kelley weren’t guarding you, it seemed that one of your teammates (especially Sanchez, Trinity, and Huerta) would suddenly need something from you when Lindsey tried to approach. 

It was weird and blatantly obvious, but you deeply appreciated their efforts. 

Lindsey cleared her throat again, and you felt her shift closer to you. “I-… look, I’m sorry. For everything,” 

You let a beat of silence pass between you, unsure if you were even going to respond. Your eyes slowly dragged open and you met tired blue. They seemed to echo the dull throb that had settled in before the game. The same hollowness that just wouldn’t go away. 

A part of you wondered what everything meant. 

Was she sorry for all of the nights you had shared? All of the intimate moments you had never shared with anyone else? That you would never share with anyone else. 

Or maybe she was just sorry she would never care for you in the way you cared for her. 

“Me too,” You said softly. The words felt heavy, laced with truth and pain and utter defeat. 

Not because of the pain she had put you through, but because she regretted you. 

You were sorry because you weren’t good enough. 

You looked away from her burning gaze, back towards the wood of your little cubby. It felt like she was dissecting you. Like she was looking through you and straight into your thoughts. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lindsey said, her voice deadly serious. “This is all on me,” 

“Not all of it,” You shrugged, lifting your left hand and wiggling your fingers. It was strange because you hadn’t been able to move them for the last week, and you expected the thick gauze to follow you into your dreams. 

That part was all on you, no matter what your friends wanted to believe. 

Lindsey sighed, and you knew she wanted to argue with you, but part of you hoped she wouldn’t. You were too tired to fight. 

“How did it happen?” She asked so softly you almost missed it. 

You blinked, and your eyes flickered back to hers. “What?” 

Lindsey swallowed hard, her throat visibly gulping. “Kelley sent me the picture, but no one will tell me what happened,” 

You frowned. You wanted to say nothing had happened. You wanted to yell and scream at Kelley, even if you knew she meant well. You wanted to admonish Lindsey for not already knowing the reason, even if it wasn’t fair. 

“She shouldn’t have,” 

Lindsey’s hand caught your forearm, sliding down your skin to connect your hands. “Y/n, please,” 

It sent a shiver down your spine and a warmth through your veins that hadn’t been there in god knows how long. 

It chipped away at the ice encasing your heart. 

You blew out a long breath, ripping your eyes from her, leaning your head back so it hit the locker with a low thump, and fixing your eyes on the stupid photoshopped picture Emily had fixed on the roof of your cubby after a bad Portland practice. It was of the three of you, your heads photoshopped onto a picture of the Teenage mutant ninja turtles. 

“A mirror broke,” You said slowly, forcing the words around the sudden lump in your throat. You hadn’t told anyone what happened yet, Christen and Tobin included. “And I got cut. That wasn’t your fault, no matter what Kelley wants to believe,” 

Lindsey made a low sound like she knew that your explanation wasn’t the whole story like she knew you weren’t being honest, 

but she didn’t push. Not like she usually would. 

She sat back on the bench, and squeezed your hand once, twice, three times. 

And it made you feel like you were 17 again, sitting in France holding on for dear life as your world was rocked to its core. It made you feel like you were 22, sitting in this very locker room working through your growing feelings. It made you feel safe and loved in a way that no one else could.

That thought made you sick to your stomach because you knew it wasn’t real. 

The mark on your chest was proof enough of that. 

But you didn’t see the harm in accepting the comfort. In letting her let you just exist. Your eyes slid closed and for the first time in weeks, you felt at peace. 

Who cared if it wasn’t real? At least you weren’t in pain anymore. 

“What about the bruise?” She asked after several long minutes, and you blinked back at her again, noting the way her eyebrows furrowed guiltily. 

Her eyes were fixed on the little Thorns logo sitting just above your heart. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell nonchalantly. “Yeah. That’s kinda on you,” 

“Is it..-“ She paused, shaking her head. “Can I see it?” 

Your nose scrunched. “I’d have to take my shirt off, so no. I don’t even know if it’d be in this stupid dream,” 

It was too… vulnerable. Too exposed for you. Far more unprotected than you were willing to be with Lindsey. 

Plus if the universe wanted her to see it, then you would have appeared in an outfit you couldn’t hide it in, not your old training uniform. 

“You weren’t supposed to see it in the first place,” Yoh muttered, closing your eyes and laying your head back on the locker with a thump. 

You heard Lindsey swallow hard, and you knew she wanted to argue with you. Even if you weren’t quite sure what she could argue. 

But she didn’t. 

Her hand squeezed yours in three slow pulses again. “Alright,” 

You felt the know you didn’t know was in your chest loosen, and your shoulders relaxed as you leaned farther back into the wooden cubby. 

At least you weren’t in pain, and in the quiet locker room, it was easy to let Lindsey’s soft breathing lull you into a near doze. 

It reminded you of all the times you had listened to her breathing when you couldn’t sleep, or when you woke up from a nightmare. All the times it was a sign that you were safe. 

Now you just supposed it was like the beeping of a life support machine. Something to prolong the inevitable. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to feel this at ease. 

*****

Camp had ended far less eventfully than it had started, and you were incredibly grateful for that. 

The final morning passed with little fanfare, and you felt more rested than you had in months, and before you knew it Christen and Tobin were guiding you through the terminal towards a plane headed directly to LA. 

You hadn’t seen Lindsey at all, but as you grabbed your headphones from your bag, you saw the little blue Post-it tucked just inside the zipper. 

You gently grabbed the little paper, pulled out your headphones too, and shoved the bag back under your seat. You stared at it, running your fingers over the indent of your name across the folded front in Lindsey’s loopy writing. 

“Are you going to read this one?” Tobin asked you, pretending that she wasn’t watching the way you were fixated on the note. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. You hadn’t decided if you were going to open it yet. “Do you know how it got into my bag?” 

“Nope,” Tobin shook her head once. “I was on door duty, and Kelley and Emily were more worried that you ate,” 

You nodded, your tongue poking past your lips. Christen wouldn’t have made the assist, she made her opinion clear, even after you told her about the latest dream. 

You looked back down at the small note. 

You hadn’t cared about them up to this point. You didn’t want to know what Lindsey had to say. You just wanted her to let you die in peace. You just wanted her to be happy and to not hurt anymore. 

But she wasn’t happy. 

Sitting in the Thorns locker room had also filled you with a strange sense of nostalgia. You missed how simple it was before you recognized your feelings. How easy it was to be around her and to feel safe. 

You missed being her friend, intimacy be damned. 

And no matter how stupid you thought the high school note-passing tactic was, you were suddenly curious if it would change those new feelings. If it would tell you why. 

“Do you want me to read it?” Tobin asked, reaching for the small, blue paper. 

You pulled it away. “No,” 

“Ok,” She agreed easily, settling back into her seat, pretending to not watch you. “Christen put the others in the bottom of your bag if you want to read them too,” 

You hummed at the offhand comment, flipping the little blue note over once more before slowly working it open. 

You cracked a smile at the little sketch of a teenage mutant ninja turtle at the top, just below where it was sealed. It was Leonardo and Rafael with a small pizza slice between them. 

Hey Raf,

I forgot that we used to call each other that until I saw Emily’s drawing in your old locker. I kinda miss the days of being the TMNT 3. I definitely miss you. 

Chris says you don’t read my notes, and I can’t blame you. I just want you to know I choose you. I want you to know I love you. 

You didn’t finish reading it.

You didn’t want to.

“What did she say?” Christen asked you gently from Tobin's other side. 

“Some bullshit about her choosing me,” You shrugged again, crumbling the paper and tossing it towards her. “Was it in all the other ones too, or did you just omit it from the synopses?”

She caught it easily, flattening the paper against her thigh, frowning as she scanned over the page. “I just figured It wasn’t the main message,” 

“And what was?” You grumbled. “That now that everyone knows she fucked up she suddenly wants me?” 

“I think the team is more concerned with you deciding you’d rather die,” Tobin said, carefully grabbing the note and reading it after Christen was done. “But go on,” 

You frowned at the pair, suddenly wondering whose side they were on. 

“I don’t want her to care out of some sense of obligation or guilt,” You grit out the words. “I’m not a consolation prize,” 

“No,” Christen agreed carefully. “You’re not a consolation prize to her,” 

“I think Lindsey has cared for a long time,” Tobin added, catching your hand. “She was just afraid to show it,” 

“Could have fucking fooled me,” You snorted. “She chooses me or whatever but she still hasn’t told her boyfriend that I’m her soulmate,” 

Tobin paused, sending a look over her shoulder to Christen. You frowned. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” 

Tobin blew out a long breath. “Lindsey called me the night you broke your hand. We thought she told you,”

Your eyes widened.

Lindsey called them. Lindsey talked to them. They talked to her. 

“What did she want?” The words forced themselves through your grit teeth, misplaced anger rushing through you and flushing your cheeks. 

“Take a deep breath,” Christen said, her voice as calming as you had ever heard it. The same voice she had used each time your unstable emotions threatened to overtake you. 

They were yet another growing symptom of soulmate sickness. 

“I don’t want to,” You bit back. “Tell me,” 

Tobin held her hands up in defense. “Most of it isn’t my story to tell,” 

You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, blowing it slowly out of your mouth, feeling your anger bleed out with it. “But?”

“Lindsey is trying. She just doesn’t know where to start,” Tobin said very slowly, choosing her words carefully. 

“I will not be her second choice,” You muttered, picking at the gauze still wrapped tightly around your hand. “you’re supposed to be on my side,” 

“We are on your side. The side of you living long enough to go to your third World Cup and win,” Christen said, reaching across Tobin to catch your hand and prevent you from unraveling the bandage. “And we’re not telling you to forgive her,” 

You blew out another breath. “Then what are you telling me?” 

“You don’t have to forgive Lindsey,” Tobin said. “I’m not even saying you have to entertain the idea. All I mean is that you’re tied for life, and when you’re ready, she has a lot of making up to do. When you’re ready, it’s on her to fix it. She knows it, and is willing to do it.”

“Hence the stupid fucking notes?” You asked softly, your eyebrows furrowing. The notes were such a Lindsey thing to do. A way to see how open you were to her without pushing. A way to let you come to her. 

“Hence the notes,” Tobin nodded. “She didn’t know where to start,” 

You closed your eyes tightly, leaning back in your seat. “I wish Kelley hadn’t sent her that fucking picture. Then she still wouldn’t care,”

“Kelley sent it because she is insanely protective,” Christen explained as if it was obvious. “You were hurting and she wanted the person responsible to know,”

“You’re like her little sister,” Tobin added unhelpfully. 

You shook your head. “It’s not Lindsey’s fault I hurt my hand, and I wish everyone would fucking see that,” 

“Then who’s fault was it?” Christen pressed, keeping her voice gentle. 

You let out a breath, counting to 10 in your head, trying to still the sudden rush of thoughts and emotions that came from the simple question. 

The truth was that punching that mirror was all on you. It was your inability to regulate your emotions. Your inability to accept the truth. Your inability to be enough. 

You were frustrated that Kelley had shown Lindsey the aftermath, and even more annoyed that it suddenly changed the way Lindsey felt. 

She shouldn’t be guilted into loving you. 

You weren’t worthy of it, no matter how much admitting it made the place on your chest throb. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You said, your voice rough with the unspoken tsunami of emotions in your chest, your uninjured hand rubbing idly at the spot right above your heart. 

“You never want to talk about it,” Christen said, her voice edging in desperation. 

You sighed, peeling your eyes open to meet her green. “Lindsey deserves to be happy,”

The defeat in your voice shocked even you as it reached your ears, and the pure honesty made the sludge in your stomach rock. 

Tobin used a hand to catch your chin, forcing you to look at her. “And what about you? Don’t you deserve happiness too?” 

You shook your head, pressing your lips into a thin line. “I don’t matter,” 

You slipped your headphones over your ears before they could push the issue before they could make you unpack that feeling, and stared out the window. 

“I’ve never mattered,”

****

You bit the inside of your lip, glaring at the colorful painting that sat on your therapist's wall, picking at the edge of the gauze on your hand. 

There was less of it now, making it look more like a hand than a club, but the stitches were still sensitive enough that you couldn’t go without it. 

“I don’t understand your question,” You muttered, your eyes tracing across the red sunset in the painting, refusing to look at her. 

It was a bad habit you had picked up in the three weeks you had been seeing her. It was easier to talk to her when you didn’t have to look at her, not that you had done much talking anyway. 

“You’ve told me a lot of wonderful things about Lindsey. You’ve told me about the incredible intimacy that the two of you share. I wanted to know who initiated it,” Clarke said, and you could feel her watching you. 

You frowned. “Like who kissed who first?” 

It felt like one of those stupid media fan questions. Like the ones you had gotten on Twitter after the game, demanding to know how you hurt your hand and asking for your opinion on the fan theories the whole ordeal had created. 

It wasn’t like the normal probing questions Clarke asked you. 

She hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “Is that when you think the emotional intimacy between you started?” 

You bit your lip at the question. You and Lindsey had been linked far before you kissed. 

“No,” You said, dragging your eyes to meet hers. “That was pretty instant,” 

You remembered being taken with Lindsey from the first moment you saw her, even though she had ripped all of the laces out of her shoe on a stupid escalator. It was mid-morning when her and her mother arrived at the apartment, and you were so anxious you couldn’t get words past your lips. 

You had waved at her instead, and you were pretty sure she thought you were entirely unable to talk for the first two weeks you had known her. 

“Tell me about it?” Clarke asked very gently, noting the faraway look in your eyes in her notes. 

It was the look you always got when you talked about Lindsey, even if all you told her in your discussions were good things. 

“I…” You paused, biting your lips, trying to think of the moment that you and Lindsey became inseparable. It had to have been after your first hard practice. “It was like two weeks after she moved into the apartment. We were watching Disney movies in French to try and learn the language,” 

It was a semi-truth. You had performed horribly on the field and wanted a distraction. All that was on was the lion king and it was extra money to watch it in English. She walked into your soft sniffles and sat down next to you out of obligation. 

Lindsey felt bad for you. She always pitied you. It was why she sat next to you on the couch that night. 

“And it progressed from there?” Clarke pressed, leaning forward. 

“Yeah, we just kinda clicked,” You hummed, scratching the back of your neck with your good hand. It was more than that. That night, she made you smile and you made her laugh. It was the spark of your entire relationship, and it only got stronger when the pressure from the coaches increased. “And then with all the stuff that was happening…”

Clarke nodded understandingly and it made you feel like she could hear the thoughts racing through your head. “Trauma has a way of bonding people,” 

“Yeah,” You nodded, scratching the gray lines on your neck a little harder. When things continued to get worse, you and Lindsey found comfort in each other. She was the only one who made you feel safe. “We started sharing a bed because I was having nightmares. It was comforting to have her there,” 

“She made you feel safe,” Clarke supplied easily. 

“Always,” You agreed. It didn’t matter what was happening at practice, when you were together, you knew it would all be ok. “It was like she was shielding me from all the bullshit. Our bed was our safe place,” 

“Is that why you kissed for the first time?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

The truth was that the first kiss you shared was… blurry. 

“No,” You said slowly. “That didn’t happen for a while,” 

Clarke hummed. “Who initiated?”

“I…-,” Your eyebrows furrowed. You remembered laying on too-fancy sheets, sharing a bowl of unsalted popcorn. You remembered the sunset peeking through the window and soft laughter. You remember leaning against her strong frame, and her hand running through your hair. You remembered the taste of her lips and the way you moved together, but you didn’t know who leaned in first. “I can’t remember actually,” 

Admitting it made your heart race, and your chest ache. How could you not remember such a fundamental moment in your relationship? 

“That’s ok,” Charlie said, reaching out and placing a steadying hand on your knee. “How about we talk about something else for a bit,” 

You swallowed hard, dropping the hand on your neck and going back to picking at the edge of the gauze on your hand. “Ok,” 

“Let’s talk about the night you broke the mirror,” 

Your back instantly straightened. “What about that night?” 

It came out more harshly than you intended. Colder. Guarded. 

You hadn’t even told Tobin and Christen about that night yet, despite their prying. 

“Well, we haven’t discussed it yet,” Clarke said carefully. “And it’s the reason you have to see me 3 times a week for the next month,”

“What do you want to know?” You sighed, leaning forward. 

Being honest was the only way to not have to see Clarke. The only way for her to sign the papers that would get rid of the Minute limit that had been placed on you. 

“How did the mirror break?” Clarke asked you softly. 

You bit your lip, picking the edge of the gauze with a little more vigor. “I punched it,” 

It pained you to say the words out loud and had blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“With the intention of hurting yourself?” 

You blinked up at Clarke’s question. The same question they asked you in the hospital. 

“No,” You said sternly, shaking your head once. “I just… needed the sound in my head to stop,” 

“What kind of sound?”

You squinted at the probing question. The answer was just so difficult to put into words. It was difficult for you to even wrap your head around it. 

There was so much noise constantly surrounding you, and it had all been too much. You wanted Lindsey to stop, and your family to stop. You just wanted everything to… stop. 

“My thoughts,” You mumbled, catching the edge of the gauze and pulling just a bit too tight.  “I was spiraling and I couldn’t get them to stop. I just wanted it to be quiet so I could breathe,” 

Clarke nodded, jotting more notes down in her little book. “You were having a panic attack,” 

“I guess,” Your shoulders lifted and fell and your eyes returned to the stupid painting in her corner. You weren’t sure if it was panic, or if it was an outward manifestation of your disgust in yourself. 

“Alright,” She said finally as the little timer on the table went off. “I have some homework for you that I think will be helpful before our next session…-“

You tuned out her words, focusing instead on the place in the picture where the orange sunset met the deep black of the sea. Where they swirled together. 

You wished you were there instead of here. 

******

You knew the dream was coming. The universe had been kind, allowing you to ignore your soulmate for 5 weeks. You knew it couldn’t last forever, especially after Clarke’s homework. 

The only way for you to complete it was to talk to her, and you fucking refused to respond via note. 

You sighed, pressing your face further into the soft down pillow beneath your head, your hand closing around too-fancy sheets. They were cool to the touch, something that never happened in real life. 

You felt eyes on the side of your face, tracing the little scar that existed by your eye (from an unfortunate encounter with a Spanish defender when you were 17), down your cheek, and sweeping across your nose to your lips. 

It was familiar. A scene that had played hundreds of times. 

But it no longer filled you with the warm fuzzy feeling it used to, even if the ache in your chest dulled. 

“It’s rude to stare,” You mumbled, reluctantly forcing your eyes open to look at Lindsey. 

Lindsey smirked, her dimples showing. “Some people consider it rude not to stare at a masterpiece,”

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself to sit up. “That line was played out the first time you used it,”

It was familiar in a way that had butterflies flying in your stomach, and unease settling firmly on your chest. 

Linsey chuckled. “It still made you blush back then” 

You shrugged, running your hand through your hair, noting that you weren’t wearing the brace and gauze that had become part of your wardrobe. You wiggled your fingers experimentally in front of your face, and you could feel Lindsey watching them too. 

“This is where it started,” She said softly, and your eyes snapped toward her. 

“Kinda,”

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

You shrugged, dragging your eyes back toward your hand. It was easier to admit things when you didn’t have to look at the person you were talking to. It was easier to follow Clarke’s advice and be honest. 

“An equipment closet in Paris is where this phase of our relationship kicked off,” 

You said the words softly, but they felt heavy. It was like a rock splashing into a pond, leaving only ripples in its wake. 

You expected Lindsey to argue with you. To say that the night of the World Cup wasn’t where this whole thing started. That this room was the place where you shared most of your firsts. Your first feelings, your first kiss, your first…time. 

But in that closet, she handed you your first heartbreak, and you weren’t sure you had ever even begun to piece back the little shards of your heart. 

She swallowed hard. “I wish that night ended differently. I wish I responded differently. I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am. I should have held you tighter, instead of pushing you away,” 

It surprised you that she didn’t try to deny it, and you tried to smother the warm feeling that started to bloom in your chest. All you ever wanted was for her to acknowledge what the two of you shared. 

“You won’t even acknowledge we’re soulmates,” You countered, none of the fire you expected in your voice. You just sounded… defeated. 

Lindsey frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. “They didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked. 

It irritated you that everyone knew things that you didn’t know. It irritated you that they were talking about you without you there. 

“I broke up with Ty. I told him and my parents,” 

“Oh,” You breathed out. 

“I’m not telling you to get you to forgive me. I just thought you should know,” She said too quickly as if she was afraid she would break the tenuous truce between you. 

Silence stretched between you as you digested the information. Digesting that Tobin and Christen already knew. Digesting that Lindsey really had chosen you. 

You could hear Clarke’s voice in your head, reminding you of the homework she had assigned. The homework to talk about your feelings. 

“You know, it used to make me feel special that you didn’t want other people to know,” You said slowly, and you could feel Lindsey’s eyes on your face. “Then it just made me feel dirty,” 

She reached out and caught your arm. “I’m sorry,” 

You felt it in your bones. Her honesty, her… desperation for you to believe her. 

You did believe her, but you didn’t want her apology. “You keep saying that,” 

“You deserve so much more than what I gave you,” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, her anguish cracking your heart. 

You shook your head. “I don’t need your pity, Lindsey. You don’t have to do this because you’re guilty,”

She frowned. “Guilty?”

You chuckled. “That’s what our relationship is based on isn’t it?”

She only told them because she had to. Because she felt bad. Because Kelley had exposed Lindsey’s impact on you. 

“Absolutely not!” Lindsey exclaimed, wiggling your arm, trying to get you to look at her. 

“It is though,” You pressed out, despite the bitter taste of the words on your tongue. “You never would have been my friend if you didn’t walk in on me crying,” 

She never would have been your friend if she didn’t feel some… obligation to not leave you alone that first night. She felt sorry for you because you were incapable of making friends with anyone else on the French squad. 

“Y/n,” She said more softly, shifting over and ducking so you had to look at her. “I had been working up the courage to talk to you since I moved in,”

Her eyes burned into yours, and her honesty sent shivers down your spine. 

“It was never because you felt bad for me?” You asked again. 

“No,” 

You nodded, your mind flying to try and catch up with the admission. With the knowledge that maybe she had wanted you as long as you wanted her. Maybe this wasn’t just her response to pity and guilt. 

Maybe she could help you with your therapy homework after all. 

“Did you kiss me first, or did I kiss you?” You suddenly asked the question.

The tension between you dissipated instantly, and Lindsey’s laugh was like bells, drawing a smile to your features. 

Lindsey’s head tilted. “You can’t remember?” 

You shook your head once. “No, and I hate that I can’t,”

A small smile played across her lips. “I guess it kinda makes sense. It’s a trick question,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as your mind thought back to that night. 

You could practically feel the indent of her hand as it rested on your waist, holding you steady. You could feel her soft breaths puffing onto your lips. You could smell her perfume, mixed with something just so… Lindsey. 

You remembered your eyes meeting hers, and how the blue was just a sliver around her dilated pupils. You remembered them getting closer like you were magnets drawn together. 

“We leaned in at the same time,” 

“We did,” She agreed, watching as you leaned back into the pillows. “So technically it was mutual,” 

You hummed, running a hand through your hair, accidentally flashing the dark mark that had crept back up your shoulder as your shirt shifted. You felt her eyes boring into it immediately. 

“Can I,” She paused, clearing her throat. “Can I see the mark?” 

You tensed immediately, and you pulled away from her, your shoulders curling in on themselves. “You’ve already seen it,” 

She sat before you frozen, her hand hanging in the air like she was still holding on to you and flipped it over, and held it out to you. “Y/n, please?” 

You stared at it with untrusting eyes. 

Talking to Lindsey was one thing, but showing her the damage she caused was another. 

But then again, didn’t she have the right to see it? That was Kelley’s defense after all. 

You let out a long breath, sending her a very stiff nod. It took you another second to gather the courage to pull your shirt over your head. 

Lindsey gasped as soon as the dark mark on your chest and the spider web of veins that sprouted from it was on display, but she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t even roam the newly visible skin. 

She was doing this at your pace, you realized. 

“You can look,” You said, your voice shaking slightly. 

Lindsey swallowed and very slowly brought her eyes up to gaze at your chest. Her eyes felt heavy, but they didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t feel objectified, but you never had with her. 

“Can I,” She cleared her throat. “Can I touch it? They say that helps?”

You blinked at her, once, twice, before you slowly nodded. 

It was something Clarke had suggested. She said physical contact in dreams was a good way to start, especially if you weren’t averse to Lindsey’s touch. 

The problem you saw was that you were the complete opposite. You were addicted to the way her skin felt on yours and the instant sense of safety it brought you. 

Lindsey wasn’t safe anymore, and you needed to remember that. 

She moved slowly as she brought her hand to your chest like you were a frightened animal she was afraid would snap at her. 

You sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers gently landed on the deep purple skin right above your heart, and tingles sprouted from the place the two of you met. 

It made your chest burn, like a flame blasting away at the ice that had coated your veins. 

It was better than a hug, and you could practically feel your worry and pain being sucked from your chest. 

“Does it-…” You cleared your throat, your cheeks turning red. “Do you feel it too?” 

Lindsey frowned, and you rolled your eyes. “Do you feel the ache too?” 

“I do,” She bit her lip and nodded. She let her fingers wander up your chest, tracing the thick black line that extended to your neck.“But I doubt it’s anywhere close to what you feel. I never meant to cause you pain,” 

You hissed when she pressed into the line slightly too hard, in the place Kelley always did. “Then why did you?”

She paused, slowly dragging her hand down across your shoulder and down your arm, following the web of lines. 

“I was afraid, and that made me selfish,” 

“Of?” You pressed, catching her hand. 

Her eyes blinked up to meet yours, and you saw something you didn’t often see. Insecurity. “My family, the media, myself,” 

Your lips pressed into a thin line. You could understand fear. She used Ty and the word “friendship” as a shield. You had just been an inadvertent casualty. 

That didn’t change overnight. It also didn’t make it ok, but it was nice to understand. 

“We would have gotten through it,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Together,” 

You would have done anything for her. You still would. You were willing to die so she could be happy after all. 

“We’ll get through this too,” She squeezed your hand three times slowly. “I’ll do whatever I have to make it up to you,” 

“No more notes. We’re not in high school,” You cracked a small smile leaning back into the pillows. “Just text me instead,” 

“I can do that,” She agreed, squeezing your hand again, and you believed her. 

*****

You knew physical contact was supposed to help with the symptoms of soulmate sickness, you just never really thought about how much it would help. 

You felt like you were walking on air. Like the weight in your chest had eased, even slightly. Even smiling didn’t take as much effort as it had for the last several weeks. 

Maybe that was why Freya had let you help the goalies practice (fucking finally), and even join in on the last few minutes of the scrimmage that ended practice. 

You just felt… good. (But you were loath to admit it was mostly because of the dream you shared with Lindsey). 

You expected that was what Freya wanted to talk to you about as practice came to a close. You hadn’t expected her to instead lay out a plan that put your physical and mental health at the forefront of the team. You hadn’t expected her to care. 

Shock followed you to the locker room, as you sat down heavily in front of your locker. 

“You good?” Tobin asked, settling beside you as you untied your cleats. It was so much easier now that you didn’t have to have the plastic splint under the gauze still wrapping your hand. 

“Hmm,” You hummed, pulling out your shin guards and sticking them inside your cleats. 

Tobin waited for you to continue, sharing a look with Christen and raising her eyebrow when you did not. 

“What was that about?” Christen prompted gently. 

You blew out a breath, “Freya is excusing me from the game. I have to be in Portland but I don’t have to go to the stadium,” 

Christen settled down on your other side. “And how do you feel about that?” 

You shrugged. “I’m not cleared to play, so I’m not surprised,” 

You could feel them watching you, but you stared at your cleats. 

“That doesn’t answer the question kid,” Tobin pressed, her hand leaning heavily on your shoulder, her thumb barely brushing the little scar that had replaced part of the black line that used to extend up your neck. “How do you feel?”

“It’s not good to bottle it all up,” Christen added gently. 

Your good hand clenched on your thigh. You didn’t want to talk about how you felt. It would make you think about Lindsey and how irritating it was that her just touching you in a dream was enough to have the dark marks retreating. It was irritating that she was texting you now like things were normal. 

“I don’t bottle,” You grit out. 

“You do though,” Tobin said, squeezing your shoulder. 

“You hide all your feelings away to not distract us, or to protect us and it gets so bad that you finally explode,” Christen added, much more softly, carefully uncurling your fingers from your leg and pressing your hand flat. “Look where it’s gotten you,” 

“This wasn’t from bottling,” You muttered, finally dragging your eyes up to meet theirs. “I just wanted everything to stop,” 

“And punching a mirror and a wall over and over again helped with that?” Tobin quirked an eyebrow up at you. 

You swallowed hard and looked away. “Sometimes physical pain is better, more tangible than what’s going on in my head. But this is different,” 

“You don’t know what you want to do?” Tobin asked. 

You shook your head once, biting your lip. “No,” 

“You’ll probably get to hang out in one of the boxes if you go,” Christen reasoned, weaving your fingers together, her other hand rubbing smooth circles into your back. You leaned into the familiar comfort, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Mark will probably have Lindsey on the field for the whole game,” You agreed, suddenly finding your socks interesting. “And she’s already texting me about coffee and stuff,” 

Christen and Tobin shared another long look behind your back. 

“How do you feel about that?” Christen asked you gently, and you wanted to roll your eyes at the repeated question. She was so much like Clarke in that way. 

You shrugged again. “It’s just weird,” 

“What? Being back in the friend zone? Or dancing the line between the two again?” Tobin snorted, and you sent her a sideways glance. 

“Her being nice to me,” you grumbled, pulling on your sweats and throwing your training gear into your bag. “I’m not sure if she’s being honest or not,” 

“And you’re not sure if you want to find out?” Christen finished your thought for you as if she was reading your mind, ignoring Tobin. 

You nodded. “It’s different in dreams, and I’m not ready to do it in real life yet,” 

Frankly, you were just happy that the paper notes had stopped.

But the rest was more… complicated. 

Everything in the dreams felt real. It felt right. You felt safe. But you knew you weren’t. 

You were just waiting for her to turn on you again. Or for her to suggest you go back to the way things were before. You didn’t want to be a dirty little secret again. 

So far, you had taken several small steps, each one talked out in detail with Clarke. 

You weren’t ready to see Lindsey in person. Or to be back in Portland. Your soul was still healing, but unlike your hands, the thick stitches you had used to pull yourself back together weren’t as healed. 

But you didn’t really have a choice in one. 

“Being back in Portland will be a lot,” Tobin said, and you blinked at the sheer understanding you heard there. 

“I know,” You muttered, running a hand through your hair. “I think being inside providence park will be too overwhelming,” 

“So you’re just going to hang out at the hotel?”  Christen asked, her eyebrows furrowed. 

Neither she nor Tobin liked the idea of you being alone. Not after everything that had happened. Especially when you would be in a city that meant so much to the two of you. 

Your shoulder lifted and fell for a third time. “Yeah, probably,” 

Bailey would most likely set up a PT appointment for you or something, and then you would take notes on the game. You would avoid windows and reminders of where you were, and you would take solace in the genericness of the hotel. You would pretend you were in some other City somewhere.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m not going to mention it to Lindsey yet…”

A part of you didn’t want to give her a chance to talk you into it, and a part of you wanted to throw her slightly off-kilter to see how she would respond. To see if she would reject you.

Christen and Tobin shared another look.

“Whatever you want to do kid,” Tobin agreed, though you could tell she wasn’t entirely sold on your plan, and Christen squeezed your hand. 

You needed to take little steps. And that’s exactly what you would do. 

******

Your nose scrunched as you came into consciousness. 

You dragged your eyes open, immediately noting the clay-colored rocks across from you, and that you were leaning against a boulder the size of a car. You glanced around, seeing the tips of mountains beyond the slight narrowing of the trail, and you assumed a lookout lay beyond the gorge you had woken up in. 

You let out a long sigh, pressing back into the smooth stone. It wasn’t warm, despite the sun on your face, and you wondered if that was a product of the fan on the airplane blowing on your face. You wondered if it was enough to create the artificial breeze dancing through your hair and across your cheeks. 

It was strange that you and Lindsey always met in dreams while you were flying. 

You took another deep breath, before pushing yourself to your feet. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as hiking boots you didn’t own crunched against the trail, and your hand trailed against smooth, cool stones uninhibited by the bandage that had been a mainstay in your wardrobe since the incident nearly 6 weeks ago. 

This had to be Lindsey’s dream. 

You shook your head and slowly made your way through the crevice. You had to turn sideways to make it through the almost too-small crack in the rock to get to the open space just beyond. 

The sight that met you was enough to take your breath away. 

The gorge opened into a small clearing that ended in a cliff. 

Mountains stretched out past the little cliff’s edge, nearly disappearing in the too-blue sky. You could see the ocean just beyond the farthest mountain peak, and if you squinted, you were sure you could spot a boat. 

And there, seated on the edge of the cliff was Lindsey. She was the most beautiful sight of all. 

Blind hair blowing slightly in the wind, her small tank top showing off her strong arms. 

It was painful how gorgeous she was. 

But Clarke said it was good to let yourself feel those feelings. That it was good for you to recognize and acknowledge your attraction to her, even if it made you feel conflicted. 

You shook your head, and very slowly made your way towards her. 

“So this is what you’re always talking about huh?” You asked, settling down beside her, your legs hanging over the edge. 

You felt her shift next to you, but you didn’t turn away from the view. 

“Makes it worth it, right?” She countered, and you could hear the roughness in her voice, but you could also feel her smirk. 

You hated hiking and refused to go on almost all of her outings (the sunrise hike in Hawaii didn’t count, especially with the kiss you had received in the early morning sun), but she always told you that the effort was with it because of the view you got to see. You still weren’t convinced. 

Just like you weren’t convinced that all the work with Lindsey would turn out in the end. But Tobin has once felt the same way about Christen, and they turned out ok. 

You shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’d have to know how many miles away the car is first,”

 “I think it was like 4 and a half miles?” She scratched the back of her neck, and you felt her eyes on your face. 

“Hmm,” You hummed, cracking a smile. “Way too many for me,” 

“You run like 8 in a game and more during practice,” Lindsey chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. 

“But that’s different,” You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but chuckle with her. “It’s a goal-directed activity,” 

She raised an eyebrow at you, her dimples showing, but she didn’t argue with you. 

She scooted closer to you and in another world you would have laid your head on her shoulder, but you didn’t. You couldn’t allow yourself to get too comfortable. 

“Are you on the flight?” Lindsey asked you, breaking the short silence that settled between you. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing. You knew that the flight was early, but you hadn't expected her to be asleep. Not when Mark was obsessed with morning practices. “Doesn’t your practice start soon?” 

“I have no clue,” She muttered, rubbing the back of her neck again. “But we can grab coffee after it ends? Your flight should get to Portland and you should have time to get unpacked and stuff,” 

“You probably want to go to Dutch Bros,” You said teasingly. 

“No,” She said instantly, smirking. “Grounded NW has grown on me,” 

Your eyes widened at the name of your favorite coffee shop near the stadium. “You said you hated them,” 

“It’s grown on me,” She shrugged, and you swore you saw a small blush crawling up her cheeks. “And it reminds me of you,”

You felt heat bleed into your cheeks. “You said you didn’t like their oat milk,”

“No. I didn’t like the barista flirting with you,” Lindsey explained, catching your hand. “Tyler doesn’t work there anymore,” 

You frowned. You remembered the tall boy and his twitchy nature. You remembered his asking too many questions as he took your order. You didn’t remember flirting though… then again you had been with Lindsey. You rarely paid attention to other things when she was with you. 

The last time you had been there, he wanted to know all about your upcoming game. Lindsey hadn’t liked that. She practically dragged you out of the small shop after he got a little too close when he passed you your drink. 

“You were jealous?” You asked. 

She bit her lip. “Of course I was jealous. People hit on you all the time, and you weren’t mine.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” You countered immediately, but she was already nodding. 

“No, it was mine,” Lindsey agreed. “But that didn’t make it easier,” 

It was nice to know that she shared the feelings you did. That she had wanted you. 

At least it made sense why she hated your favorite coffee shop now. 

“Is that why you ordered the most complicated drink I’ve ever heard?” You asked, your eyebrows furrowing.

It was strange how she always ordered some crazy iced coffee thing when you went there with her instead of her normal oat milk late. 

“Yeah,” She said sheepishly, the red in her cheeks traveling up towards her ears. “It was Emily’s idea really, but it kept him busy any time we went there,” 

You snorted. “I thought that was why he was always glaring at you,” 

“You get stuck in your head,” Lindsey shrugged again. 

You shrugged too, settling into silence. It was a true statement after all. You spent a good portion of your life trapped in your head, oblivious to the world around you. 

“So coffee after practice?” She asked suddenly.  

You nodded, looking away. You wouldn’t outright lie, but you wouldn’t be completely honest either. 

“Cool,” She smiled widely at you, and you noticed the edges of the cliff turning slightly blurry.  “See you in Portland,” 

“Yeah,” You said as she faded before you and the dream came to a close.

*****

Lindsey was very confused.

She thought that you were making progress. The two of you were cordial in dreams, and it felt like it used to feel when she was with you. You were willingly texting with her. You weren’t avoiding her anymore. 

It was easy to be with you. And the two of you were working your way towards being friends again. 

At least she thought that. 

But now she wasn’t sure. Not with you not even being on the roster for practice, much less the game. 

“Freya excused her,” Tobin shrugged, trying to push past Lindsey towards the field. 

It was like a pin popping the balloon in her chest. The little pocket of happiness she had been operating in was gone in an instant. 

You had just seen her. Why didn’t you tell her? Why did you agree to coffee if you never intended on going? 

Lindsey caught her arm. “But she’s ok? She’s not hurt?”

“Yeah,” Tobin said dismissively, trying to pull her arm out of Lindsey’s grip. “She’s not cleared for the game and is bored of being the goalie’s kicker,” 

Lindsey’s eyebrows furrowed. Players who couldn’t play usually didn’t travel with the team. “But she said she was on the plane?” 

“She’s doing PT at the hotel,” Christen cut in, appearing behind Tobin’s shoulder. Lindsey noted the sudden stiffness in the midfielder turned forwards form and the worry in Christen’s eyes. 

And suddenly Lindsey understood. They didn’t want to leave you alone. They didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do something stupid. 

“Maybe we should get out of the tunnel,” Christen said, gesturing toward the now-empty LA locker room. Lindsey nodded and allowed them to guide her into the room and towards the bench. 

She dutifully sat down and began wringing her hands together. “She didn’t want to see me, right?”

She couldn’t help the hurt that colored her tone. She didn’t expect you to outright lie to her. 

“Not exactly,” Christen said as the door closed behind them. 

“She isn’t cleared to play,” Tobin explained, settling down beside her.  “Even if the dreams are helping the marks on her chest,” 

“I didn’t know she wasn’t cleared. She didn’t tell me it was that bad,” Lindsey grumbled, looking away from the pair, and the eyes starting to watch them now that they were blocking the door to the locker room. 

Christen’s hand was gentle against her shoulder, and her words were even softer. “Lindsey, when has she ever?”

The midfielder blew out a long breath. 

Christen was right. You were more apt to suffer in silence than burden one of them. But you told her that you were in pain. You showed her and she still ignored it. She ignored every warning sign and stomped over you like you didn’t matter. 

And suddenly, the strange ending to your shared dream made sense. As did the way you talked around going to coffee with her in your texts. 

You were trying to protect yourself from getting hurt by her recklessness again.

She swallowed hard, looking away from Christen. “But the mark on her chest has been better?”

She needed to know that she was at least helping in some way to repair the damage she had caused. 

“It’s fading slowly,” Tobin said, leaning a warm, grounding hand on her back. “She's irritated because the med staff won’t clear her until the stitches come out,”

“And Clarke won’t clear her until she talks about her emotions,” Christen added, her voice even. 

“So seeing me was too much?” Lindsey said, more pained than she intended, running a hand through her hair. “But we’ve been fine in the dreams,”

Christen settled beside her, and gently took her hand. “The two of you were ok in a dream before, and then she got hurt again,”

“Plus she literally plans out what to say to you in those dreams,” Tobin snorted, shaking her head. “It's most of what she and her therapist talk about,”

“So real life was too? What, real?” Lindsey muttered bitterly. 

Tobin sighed, squeezing her shoulder again.  “It brings up too many emotions and being here is already hard for her,”

“But we were finally interacting like we did before,” Lindsey ran another hand through her hair, dragging it down her face. “Things were finally back to the way they were before,”

Christen’s eyes tightened like she was choosing her next words carefully. “Have you considered that going back to the way things were before might be slightly overwhelming for her?”

Lindsey let the words sink in, but she didn’t understand them. 

“Why? All I did was ask her for coffee. It was a friendly date,”

She felt more than she saw Christen and Tobin share a long look. 

“You didn’t call it a date,” Christen said softly, and Lindsey felt her shoulders sink. “And the two of you were never just friends,”

Of course that was the crux of the issue. You told her it would be. 

You didn’t want to be a dirty secret. You wanted her to acknowledge what was between you, and not just in the dreams. 

But you weren’t more than friends. Yet. 

“We were friends who occasionally slept together,”  

The words felt clinical on her tongue. 

“Psh occasionally,” Tobin snorted, ignoring Christen’s glare. 

“A relationship is about more than sex Lindsey,” The striker said sharply, leaving no room for argument. “You two have been emotionally intimate for a very long time. You were intimate even before you started sleeping together,” 

“We weren’t,” Lindsey protested, but Tobin squeezed her shoulder, stopping her before she could deny you yet again. 

“You were,” The midfielder turned striker said softly, “The only reason I could move into the apartment in France was because you two had been sharing a bed for months,” 

Lindsey groaned. “We weren’t sleeping together yet though,” 

“No,” Christen agreed. “But emotionally, you were far closer than friends are. You were basically dating without a label. You went to restaurants and places alone just so you could spend time together. You held each other during sleep and cuddled every chance you got. You washed each other's hair, and You didn’t keep any secrets. The list goes on,” 

“It felt like your entire world was falling apart when she left, right?” Tobin added, watching as recognition flashed through her blue eyes. “That feeling doesn’t come from just being friends. Each time you deny that, you deny her,”

It felt like a knife in Lindsey’s chest, slowly deflating her. 

The two of you had done all of those things. You moved with and around each other like you were one person. Like you belonged. And when the elevator door shut on your face, she had never felt so much pain in her entire life. It was like cracks were rippling through her entire being. She didn’t know how to be without you. How to cope. 

And it solidified how much she did not know how to fix this. It was a minefield of hurt she didn’t know how to navigate. 

“I know that,” Lindsey muttered, running a frustrated hand through her hair.  “That’s not what I mean,”

“But that’s what Y/n hears. It’s what she’s always heard,” Christen said, her words heavy. A sense of finality in her tone. 

It made Lindsey’s chest ache because you had told her that too. She knew you felt dirty. Used. Dispensable to her, even if you weren’t. 

“I know,” She murmured, dragging her hand from her hair and down her face. “I just…-“

She paused, digging her palm into her eye, and Tobin and Christen waited for her to get her thought out. 

“How am I supposed to fix it if she won’t even come see me,”

The, in reality, was implied.

Christen sighed, reaching out to take Lindsey’s hand and carefully pull it from her face. The midfielder met her eyes with burning blue. “We know she hated the notes, but maybe a coffee delivery will be different,”

“And a “date of sorts,” Tobin added, her lips pulling into a half smile. “Facetime has a screen share feature so you can both watch the game,” 

Lindsey nodded seriously, her face morphing into the one it did when she was watching film. Focused and intent. You didn’t want to see her in person, but a Facetime date would mean that she technically wasn’t. 

“I can handle that,” Lindsey hummed, pushing herself to her feet, motivated now that she had a solid plan. 

“Hey Linds,” 

“Yeah?” She asked, pausing by the door and turning to look at them. 

“If you hurt her again, we won’t stop Kelley this time,” Christen said seriously.

“I know,” She nodded. “Sonnett said the same thing. I’m not going to hurt her,” 

******

It was decidedly strange being left alone. 

You had been surrounded by people since the incident, whether it was Tobin and Christen or your new teammates doing their best to be there for you (even if they had no clue what was going on). 

You understood it, and deeply appreciated their efforts to protect you (even from yourself), but as you sat on your hotel room bed, adamantly not looking out the window at the view, you realized how much you had missed solitude.

It was something you talked about with Clarke during the team's morning walk-through. 

It felt like the first time in a long time that you had space to just think. To process what it felt like to be back in a city that meant so very much to you. 

The hotel room was generic enough that you could pretend you were in a different place, even if that didn’t follow Clarke’s advice. Even if you weren’t sure you wanted to pretend anymore. 

You understood that avoiding Lindsey and Portland wouldn’t fix anything. 

But you were afraid. 

Lindsey had always made logic go out the window. She made you feel things in your chest and your stomach that made your brain want to believe her. It made you want to set aside all of the warning bells in your brain.

At least in the dreams, you knew that none of it was real. 

It didn’t matter if you trusted her in the dreams, because you knew you couldn’t when you opened your eyes. 

The only way for her to earn that trust back was through actions, but you weren’t ready for that. Even if you were… 

It didn’t change anything.

You blew out a long breath, settling back on the bed and flicking through the channels on the television to find the one showing the game. 

Freya’s only contingency for sitting out was that you watched how everyone performed. You could do that. You were planning on doing it anyway. 

You hummed as the LA Lineup flashed onto the screen, excited to see both Christen and Tobin starting and interested that they would have Charley up top with them. You wondered if Christen or her would take the 9 spot, or if they would swap out. 

It would be a tough task for any of the back line to take them on, and the midfield would be a major factor. 

You were also curious about what midfield Portland would put up to try and slow them down. Of course, Lindsey would be starting, or so you thought. Your easy smile flipped on itself when you saw that Lindsey was not in the starting 11. She wasn’t even on the roster. 

The commentators were steering clear of mentioning it beyond that you were out with an injury and Lindsey’s absence was excused for personal reasons.

You didn’t get a chance to ponder what the fuck personal reasons were before there was a soft knock at your door. 

You stared at the door for a long minute, flipping between the roster and it several times. 

It would be an entirely Lindsey thing to do to show up at your door, despite your efforts to avoid her. It was an entirely Lindsey thing to be stubborn enough not to give up, despite how much you wanted her to. 

You let out a long sigh and pushed yourself to your feet. You paused when you reached the door, your hand on the shiny handle, steeling yourself to come face-to-face with her. 

You cracked the door open, peeking out, expecting to see her standing there.

Except she wasn’t. 

All that was there was a to-go coffee cup with a sticky note attached to the front. 

“What the fuck?” You mumbled, pulling the door open wide enough so you could pick it up, before retreating into your room. 

You plucked the little orange note off the front, squinting at the loopy writing. 

I know you hated the notes, but I wanted to respect your space. 

FaceTime coffee date?

You couldn’t help but chuckle at it, both irritated and endeared at the same time. 

It was thoughtful and reminded you of a Lindsey you knew before the World Cup. 

You sat back on the bed, taking a hesitant sip of the drink she had gotten you and sticking the sticky beside you on the nightstand. 

It was your favorite drink. 

You weren’t sure why you expected anything less. 

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and flipped to Lindsey's contact, pausing for just a second, stealing your resolve yet again before pressing it. 

It only rang twice before Lindsey’s face appeared on your screen. 

“Hey,” She smiled brilliantly at you, but you still saw the hint of nerves in her eyes. 

You smiled back, holding your cup up to the camera. “Hey, thanks for the coffee,” 

“Couldn’t have a coffee date without coffee.” She held hers up too, and you noticed the little Dutch bros logo that differed from the grounded NW that was stamped on your cup.  “I figured we could pull up a tandem stream and watch the game together,” 

You scratched the back of your neck, as the screen shifted to a wide shot of warmups. “Like a Skype?” 

“There’s a program,” Lindsey shrugged, and the camera shifted as she grabbed what you assumed was her computer. “I can send you a link,” 

You squinted at the phone, glancing back up at your television. There were still 20 minutes before the game. 

“How did you know what room I was in?” You asked, trying not to focus on how attractive the way Lindsey pulled her lip between her teeth was. How attractive the lines of her neck were. 

She looked up at you, her blue eyes burning through you even through the screen. 

“One of the equipment interns is a big fan,” She shrugged. “Cost me an autograph, but she was willing to help,” 

You couldn’t help the way your lips lifted as you shook your head. “Becca isn’t a fan, but her girlfriend Chloe is,” 

“Ah, I see,” Lindsey hummed, and it felt like old times again. It sent butterflies fluttering in your chest and dread pulsing through your stomach. “I found the link, I’ll send it to you,” 

It reminded you that you couldn’t trust her. That she would only hurt you because you were her secret. You just didn’t understand why she wanted to connect with you here. 

Why she was trying so hard when she would just reject you again anyway. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked her suddenly. 

She blinked back towards you. “Doing what?”

“Pretending like you care,” You shrugged, picking at a loose thread on your shorts, looking away from your phone. “You don’t have to put in the effort because you feel guilty or whatever. I don’t blame you for this,” 

You held your still gauze-covered hand up so she could see it. 

She frowned, holding your gaze. “I’m not doing this because I feel guilty, and I’m not pretending,” 

“Then why?” 

“I…,” Red colored her cheeks and she swallowed her, but she didn’t look away from you like you expected her to. “I’ve had feelings for you for a very long time. You are my soulmate, and I have a lot of making up to do. I know that in-person stuff is probably overwhelming, so I thought this was a good compromise,” 

You stared at her like she had grown an extra head. 

She actually listened to what you told her and then thought about it. For the first time, she was taking your feelings into account, instead of barreling through them. 

It was so…weird. 

Of course, she had always been thoughtful, but never about your boundaries. She had always stubbornly edged her way past the very few that there were, and you let her because you wanted her to. 

And it was frustrating because you couldn’t read her emotions through the phone. You didn’t want to do whatever this was on a screen. 

“The stream will be a little grainy, but it’ll work,” she cleared her throat. “I just sent it to you,” 

You sighed but pulled out your laptop and opened the link she sent you. She was right, it was grainy, especially compared to the stream you had going on the television. 

“This is stupid,” You said as the stream glitched. “Where are you?” 

“Um, the conference room,” Lindsey muttered, scratching the back of her neck. “Why?”

You sucked your lip between your teeth, biting down bone too gently, hoping that the little sting would help you think. That it would help you focus. 

Were you ready to see her in person? Probably not, but when had you ever been ready for Lindsey? 

You were almost there. 

And a FaceTime, when no one knew, was too reminiscent of the way things had been. It felt too secretive. Too… hidden. 

“I'm coming down,” You said, deciding in an instant that if you were going to do this, you weren’t going to be her secret. If you were going to do this, if she was going to prove that things would be different, then she was going to have to do it in public where people could see you. “Watching soccer through a screen sucks when the stadium is only like 3 minutes away,” 

She froze, her mouth opening and closing a few times as you slipped off of the bed and pulled on a pair of slides (laces were still a bitch when you couldn’t move your dominant hand). 

It was cool enough out that you wouldn’t look out of place in your sweats, so you slid your room key and your wallet into your pocket before heading out the door. 

“You don’t have to,” She mumbled, running a hand through her hair as the door slammed behind you. “I don’t want you to feel pressured,” 

You glanced at the screen. “I don’t. I just…,” 

You let out a long breath, trying to figure out how to explain it to her. 

“This feels too much like when we watched the premier leagues finals together on FaceTime because Arod gave me a concussion when we played against Utah,” You said, using your back to push through the door that separated the hallway and the stairway. 

It was an unfortunate accident that kept you off the national team roster for the SheBelieves Cup, but that hadn’t stopped you and Lindsey from watching the Arsenal vs. Barça game. 

You had opened your apartment door to find soup waiting for you instead of coffee, and a little note that felt so similar. It was perfect, until Emily interrupted your date, and suddenly you were just Lindsey’s friend again. 

You swallowed, looking away from the phone as you descended down the steps. “I don’t want things to be like they were before,” 

Everyone was in agreement that you couldn’t go back to the way things were. It would kill you more than the soulmate sickness already was. 

You would be past the point of no return if you weren’t there already. 

She paused on the other end of the phone, a very serious look crossing her features. 

“I don’t either,” She said, her eyebrows furrowing the same way they did in the locker room when she figured out how to break through the other team's defense. “I know you hated the notes, but what I said in them was true. I choose you, and I’ll do whatever I need to prove it to you,”  

You sighed but didn’t argue back, pausing on the landing between the 2nd floor and the 1st. 

There was no point anyway. Now with Lindsey so… stubbornly determined. 

“Meet me in the lobby,” You breathed out, not giving her a chance to say anything before you hung up. 

Your heart beat erratically in your chest, and you gripped the railing, trying to calm the storm of butterflies and ice fighting in your stomach. 

You sucked in a deep breath through your nose, counting to four in your head before blowing it out for eight, repeating the cycle until the gray edges of your vision returned. 

A simple phrase shouldn’t set you so on edge. 

You shouldn’t care so much about meaningless words. 

You dropped your head, resting it against the cool wall of the stairwell. 

It was ok that you cared, you reminded yourself. You could hear Clarke’s words in your head. It was normal, natural to have feelings. 

You let out another long breath, debating on leaving Lindsey waiting for you in the lobby and running back up to your room. 

But you couldn’t. 

That would be cruel, and you should at least put up as much effort as Lindsey was. 

Nothing would be resolved if you didn’t, and you couldn’t live in limbo for forever, no matter how much your anxiety said you could. 

While seeing Lindsey in person was a terrifying prospect, it was a step you needed to take. Not for her, but for yourself. 

You didn’t need her to choose you, because you were choosing yourself. And you wouldn’t let fear rule you. 

You wouldn’t let resignation either. 

Tobin was right, you deserved to let yourself have 5 seconds of bravery. 

******

You stared out at the crowd at Providence park, spotted with red and roses and little flecks of pink from the fans who had followed you from LA. 

It was a sight you knew would never get old, even if it sent a little pang through your chest now. 

You remembered the last time you had sat in this box, it was so… different. 

Everything in your universe was falling apart, and you were convinced no one cared. It was the last game of the season, and all you could think about was escaping. Running away to a country where even Emily and Tobin couldn’t hunt you down. 

Now though, here you sat staring at the glinting of the fans in the stadium like it was the light at the end of a tunnel. 

You just hoped it wasn’t a train. 

“It’s kinda weird,” You mumbled, leaning forward and resting both of your elbows on the edge of the box. 

It made you feel almost nostalgic. 

“Hmm?” Lindsey hummed from two seats away from you, her eyes never leaving the field. 

She had been strangely…normal with you since you met her in the lobby. Her smile had been shy, and you did your best not to stare at the little sliver of skin above the low-hanging waist of her sweatpants. 

She held the door for you when you came in the back entrance of the stadium and made small talk all through the 3-minute walk. 

It set you at ease and that fucking terrified you. 

“The last time I was up here, Tobin scored a hatty and now everyone is booing her,” You said, your eyes following the winger as she slid a ball in to Christen, and your nose scrunching when Bixby barely made the save. 

Lindsey snorted, and shook her head, clearly remembering the game you were talking about. “That was a rough game for the Spirit. Rosie was pissed,” 

Your lips tilted up. 

Rosie had been so so spicy, especially during the second half of the game. With the frustration on her side, you couldn’t blame her. 

“Emily almost got a red card because she couldn’t stop her without fouling her,” 

Lindsey shook her head, mirroring your expression. “Rosie is a fucking pain in the ass to defend against,” 

Rosie was a magician on the ball, and even with the Thorns up by 4 in that game, she had been tearing the defense apart. 

“The worst,” You agreed, and a strange look crossed Lindsey’s face. 

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” She picked at a string on her sweatpants, and your eyes zeroed in on the movement. “There were some definite sighs of relief when you weren’t on the roster,” 

It brought you back to where you were. To how… strained things between you and Lindsey were. 

To how it was all your fault. 

She said that she didn’t pity you, but you didn’t believe her. 

The only reason she was doing any of this was because she felt guilty. Your friends had turned against her, and the only way for them to forgive her was for her to try to fix it with you. 

And you were too pathetic to even give her a real chance. 

“I guess I’m a pain in the ass in a lot of ways, huh?”

Her head snapped at the self-deprecating comment, one that she knew stretched much deeper than your soccer-playing ability. 

She knew it wasn’t the perfect time to bring up heavy things, but she couldn’t let the moment pass. 

“You’re not,” Lindsey said vehemently, reaching across the empty seat between you to catch your non injured hand and tangle your fingers together. “I hurt you. You are allowed to process that however, you need to do that. I love you and I will do whatever I can to show you that and to earn my shot with you. I wasted my first one, but I will not waste the second one. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.” 

It was everything you ever wanted her to say. What you had dreamed about her saying for years. It made you feel tingly all over and you were sure that you were blushing. It helped to set you at ease and sent alarm bells ringing in your ears at the same time. 

You tore your eyes away from her, looking back out at the fans. 

Red banners fluttered around the crowd, mixing with the yellows and greens of the stadium like warning signs. 

Like the signs your subconscious had tried to show you the first time around. 

“Don’t,” You bit out, snatching your hand away, pushing yourself up from the stadium chair, and putting as much space between the two of you as you could in the cramped box. You ran your gauzed hand through your hair, ignoring the way it pulled uncomfortably at the strands. 

She paused, watching you with careful eyes like you were a wounded animal backed into a corner. 

“Don’t what?” She asked, keeping her voice level. 

The tone irritated you. 

It reminded you too much of Christen. 

You shook your head, climbing the steps of the box and stepping into the hallway. 

“Y/n wait,” Lindsey called after you. 

But you didn’t. You hung a left and headed off with no particular direction in mind, trusting your feet to take you to a spot you could breathe. 

“Y/n” she called again, her voice closer than it was, but you didn’t stop for her, hanging another right and a left down the maze of hallways. “Where are you going?” 

You didn’t answer. 

Her feet pounded the concrete floor as she raced to catch up with you, but you ignored it. 

You didn’t care if she followed you. 

“Y/n,” She caught your arm, pulling you to a stop and forcing you to look at her. “Don’t what?”

You looked up and met her burning blue eyes. “Don't say things you don’t mean because you think it’s what you’re supposed to do. You might not pity me, but you’re only trying to fix this because you feel guilty or whatever. You’re only saying you love me because you know what will happen if you don’t. I just,” 

You tore your eyes away, stepping as far from her as the small hallway would allow, your back landing heavily against the army-green wall. “I would rather let the hole in my chest kill me than have you pretending to feel things you don’t,” 

She stepped into your space, and you molded yourself against the cool brick. 

“I’m not pretending,” She said, leaning close to you, her eyes boring into yours with fire and passion, and honesty. “I love you Y/n. Not because Kelley sent me a photo or because the team hates me. I’ve been in love with you since we were 18. I was just too much of a coward to admit it. I have fucked this up so badly, I know, but how do I get it through your thick skull that there has never been a moment where I didn’t love you,” 

You swallowed hard, glancing over her shoulder towards the random staff lingering. 

She followed your gaze before all of her attention was back on you. “And this time, I don’t care who knows. You’re my soulmate,” 

And there it was, the moment you had been waiting for since you opened your eyes to see her childhood playground so many months ago. 

“I love you too,” 

The words fell shakily from your lips. A shuttering promise, filled with devotion and heaviness. 

An unspoken Always passed between you. 

“I know,” She nodded once, stepping back from your personal space, and straightening her Office t-shirt. Though she didn’t drop your hand. “Do you wanna watch the rest of the game?”

You swallowed again. “Yeah,” 

Her smile turned shy as she began to lead you back toward the box to watch the rest of the game. “And maybe we can do a movie night or something after?” 

You squeezed her hand in three slow pulses, hoping to slow your racing heart. “Maybe,” 

You didn’t necessarily trust her, but you also weren’t ready for the night to end yet. 

It was a dangerous idea, but the ache in your chest made you hesitant to leave Lindsey. Hesitant to deny her. 

You wouldn’t have to decide until the end of the game anyway. 

******

As it turned out, making the decision to go with Lindsey back to the hotel after the game was… easier than you’d like to admit. 

Just being with her made the lingering throb in your chest ease. It neutralized the burning acid in your stomach and slowly started to thaw the ice in your veins.

The feeling was addictive and so much stronger than the ones you got from the dreams. 

It terrified you, but you were unwilling to stop yet. 

It was like she was a campfire. You needed to be close to her warmth, but you knew too much exposure would leave you smelling like smoke. That getting too close would burn you. 

It was why you had been so hesitant to see her in person. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to deny her. 

You had never been able to deny her. 

But being with her this time felt distinctly different. 

She held your hand throughout the rest of the game, and on the walk back to the hotel. She hadn’t let go until you used the little key card to scan into your room. 

She had taken the double bed that you hadn’t used as you cued up an old USMNT game, kicking her shoes off and settling against the pillows. 

It just felt… odd to have so much space between the two of you, even if you were slightly grateful for it. And while you appreciated Lindsey trying to respect a boundary she was unsure of, it felt… forced. 

You looked away from the screen, and towards Lindsey, your hands opening and closing several times trying to figure out where you were supposed to sit. 

You had 2 options. 

You could either sit beside her on the extra bed, or across from her on the one you had already used. 

While sitting on your bed would give you the solace of not having to fight your instincts, just the idea of sitting with her was making the hole in your chest crackle with the possibility of relief. It was like holding water out to a person trapped in the desert. Like a life raft floating inches from a drowning man. 

She made eye contact with you, gently patting the space beside her, seemingly seeing your struggle. “I won’t bite. I won’t even cuddle you if you don’t want me to. We’re doing this at your pace,” 

You slowly stepped towards her, settling next to her on the bed. You slowly leaned back on the pillows, dangerously close to her arm.

She kept her word and didn’t move a muscle, even as you wiggled beside her trying to get comfortable. 

You sighed, closing your eyes as Alexie Lala’s voice droned on about things you didn’t care about, trying not to think about how warm Lindsey was. 

You took three deep breaths, making your choice. You were going to have to be the one to make the first move. 

You pushed your doubt from your mind and slowly moved your hand towards the best radiating from Lindsey. Your fingers gently descended her arm until you met her hand, and you wound your fingers together. 

Lindsey welcomed the touch, and you shouldn’t have been surprised since you had been holding hands all night, but you were. 

It should have scared you how perfectly the two of you fit together, but it didn’t. 

You had always fit together perfectly. Maybe that was why you were soulmates. 

She squeezed your fingers and shifted so her shoulder could be a more comfortable pillow for your head. 

“Comfy?” She asked when you wiggled again, pressing more tightly against her as you got cozy. 

You hummed, opening your eyes to look at the game on the screen. 

She brought your intertwined hands up and kissed the back of yours. “Good,” 

You both settled into a comfortable silence as the men’s team took the field. 

It reminded you of the thousands of nights the two of you had spent together before, but it didn’t fill you with a sense of dread that it had not too long ago. It didn’t make you feel dirty. 

It was impossible for it to when Lindsey’s warmth was leaching into your skin, melting the edges of the ice that encased your chest. 

The fingers of her free hand gently traced up and down your forearm, barely brushing the gray line on the inside of your elbow every few laps. 

You wondered if she knew that the simple contact sent singles up your arm. Or if she knew that physical touch was the only way to cure the effects of soulmate sickness. 

“Do they hurt?” She asked you as Jamaica cleared the ball and the men’s team stepped up to take a throw-in. 

You blinked, once, twice processing the gentle question. 

“Those don’t anymore. They’re healed,” You said slowly as her finger traced the gray line up past your elbow. “The doc says that the lines will never completely go away through,” 

It got a bit darker as it ascended your arm, but it was nothing compared to the bubbling black it had been. The lines would fade a bit more until they were little more than raised silver skin like any other scar, it would just take time. 

“The others?” Lindsey’s voice was barely above a whisper, as she traced slightly higher up your arm, towards your shoulder. 

You shook your head. “Not as bad as it used to be. The meds help, and…,” You swallowed hard. “And not seeing him with you helps too,”

You felt Lindsey nod, and it went quiet again for another long second. 

“Can I see it?” 

Her voice stayed soft and hesitant, and you fought to keep yourself from going rigid. 

It was a hard thing to explain, that letting people see the still deep purple mark on your chest. That letting Lindsey see it was more intimate than almost anything the two of you had ever done. 

Doing it in dreams was so different than letting her see it in real life. 

And you weren’t really sure how you felt about that. 

You also weren’t sure how you felt about being alone with Lindsey in just a sports bra and shorts. 

“You’ve already seen it,” You mumbled stiffly. 

“I know,” Lindsey agreed, taking a long pause like she was choosing her words carefully. “I just… Can I see it for real?”

You let out a long breath through your nose because you understood the need to see it in real life. 

You didn’t trust the dreams either, but did you trust Lindsey enough to let her see?

You wondered what Clarke would say. What her advice would be?��

It would probably be some shit about following your feelings.

You let out another long breath. 

“Ok,” You whispered, your voice sounding more unsure than you wanted to show. 

“Ok,” Lindsey repeated, squeezing your hand once, before letting go. 

It was a long second before you sat up, carefully scooting away from her and turning so you were facing her. She pulled her feet up so she was sitting criss cross and shuffled forward so your knees were touching. 

Your eyes met hers. The blue in them seemed to smolder as they stared into yours, and for the first time in a very long time, nerves bubbled in your stomach. 

You carefully pulled your shirt over your head, revealing the dark bruise that still sat right above your heart, and the receding spider web of veins that sprouted out from it. 

Lindsey’s eyes remained locked with yours until you nodded once, giving her consent to look. It was only then that they trailed down your face, and towards the network of gray and purple that dotted the skin of your neck, deepening as it approached the space right above your heart. 

Her lip disappeared between her teeth as she finally landed on the epicenter of your pain. 

“Can I?” She asked, lifting her hand, but not touching you. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but nodded once again, having already expected the request. 

She nodded again, and very slowly extended her arm. 

Her hand was warm as it landed on your shoulder, very gently touching the graying lines near your neck. Even the gentle press had a shudder running down your spine and goosebumps appearing up and down your arms. 

“Good?” Lindsey asked, her eyes darting back up to yours. 

You nodded stiffly. “Good,” 

She hummed, dragging her hand down the graying line towards the black mark above your heart. 

She flattened her palm against it, and it was like a lantern in the dark. Like an instant balm for the ever-present sting that accompanied each heartbeat. 

You were sure she could feel how fast it was beating, like a runaway freight train threatening to explode out of your chest. 

You shivered at the feeling, so much more potent than it was in the dreams. 

It tingled and burned and filled you with a sense that everything was going to be ok (even if the rational part of your brain knew everything was so far from it), but it was different because this time, it was real. 

“What does it feel like?” 

“Hm?” You blinked up at her, realizing that your faces were merely inches apart. 

Her eyes lifted from the little lines slowly receding on your chest to meet yours again. “I feel the warmth in my hand, but what does it feel like for you?” 

“It’s hard to explain,” You said, squinting, your tongue poking from between your teeth. “It’s like a lantern lighting a dark abyss. Like a warm cup of tea after a freezing rain game,” 

She nodded once, looking away from you and back towards the web of black on your chest. “I’m sorry I did this,” 

“I know,” You smiled gently at her. “I forgive you,” 

The truth was that you had forgiven her long ago, even if you didn’t trust her. 

Her head bobbed in time with her throat. “I just felt like I needed to say it again. I was just so in my head that I wasn’t letting myself feel,” 

Your lips turned down, and your eyebrows furrowed. “And what do you feel?”

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, shy and hesitant. “I feel like I want to kiss you,” 

You tilted your chin so your lips were centimeters apart. “What’s stopping you?” 

She sighed softly. “We’re doing this at your pace, and I don’t want to push you. You should be able to forgive me in your own time, without outside pressure from me,” 

You felt more warmth bloom in your chest, spreading from the point the two of you were touching, all the way up to your ears. 

It filled you with fondness and… love. It made you feel like she cared, and you wanted so badly to believe that she did. 

And maybe this time you did believe her. 

Trust would take time to earn, and for the first time in a very long time, you were willing to give her the chance to earn it. 

This time you had the power to change the ending. 

“Kiss me,” You murmured.

She leaned in the rest of the way, and your eyes slid closed as her lips pressed very gently into yours. 

It was different than the kisses you had shared before, more reminiscent of the ones between you in France before the world of expectations and responsibilities had been placed on your shoulders. 

It was softer, more hesitant, but passionate nonetheless. 

You saw fireworks behind your eyelids and all your nerves stood on end. Your lips fit perfectly together, moving in a dance that only they knew. 

It was everything you had ever wanted and more, and it was everything you wanted for the rest of your life. 

Things weren’t perfect between the two of you. You both had scars and pain and things that you needed to solve with each other, but you knew that they would heal. Together you would be able to move past your past and make your future solid. Together you would figure it out. You would make it, together, interwoven for all eternity. 

Always

[writersblockiskillingme]

District 7 | Johanna Mason

Pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader (victor!reader)

Summary: Johanna and you seek some peace in District 7 after the rebellion.

Waning/s: angst and fluff, nightmares, talks about the games, tears, panic, curse words?, talks about Johanna's torture, rebellion, war, weapons (Johanna's ax), short fic, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: I agree with you, dear anon. Lumberjack!johanna has me like 🙇‍♀️🧎‍♀️🤰 Also, I tried my best, hope you enjoy!

Request -> Hi :) Can I request a Johanna x fem!reader that takes place after all the events of the mockingjay? The reader is also a victor of her games and is now living in district 7 with Johanna. I want to see what their life is like after the games and rebellion. What they’re like taking care of each other after nightmares and triggering situations. Also because happy times good, what is domestic life like for them now (Like lumberjack!johanna oof 😮‍💨). Give me all the angst, all the sadness, all the domestic feels, and all the fluff!

You felt like the war will truly never end. It was suffocating from the very start. Especially during the quarter quell and after. Since the moment Katniss shot that arrow into the whole of the force field that destroyed the arena and the power knocked you unconscious, you had a bad feeling. The moment you woke up and Finnick told you that the Capitol captured Johanna and Peeta you felt like you couldn't breathe.

The physical and mental torture that your lover had suffered during her time in the Capitol undet Snow's clutches and the mental torture that you had to fight with in the safety of District 13 didn't make your time there any earlier.

You were quite literally lost without her by your side. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day that you spent worrying about her, whether she was being killed, whether she was in unbearable pain, whether she was even alive made your head spin from just remembering it. But the moment that Johanna was back in your eyes everything felt so much easier. Since she was finally rescheduled, for the first time ever, you felt like you could actually make it through this rebellion. But you didn't allow yourself to be filled with hope too much, yet.

At Snow's execution you were quite literally freezing while standing between Johanna and Haymitch, your eyes never leaving Snow that was placed a few feet in front of you as you tried to pull your jacket a little bit tighter around your body.

The air was still thick with loss caused by the death of Johanna's and yours mutual friend Finnick and every other person that you have lost throughout the many years of Snow's tortures ruling of the Panem.

Shock ruled over your entire body as you watched Katniss fire the arrow that nested itself inside of Coin's heart. As she fell down, people all around you stepped forward to kill Snow. Both of the rulers were dead. At last there will be peace in the whole Panem.

The peace that you decided to chase with the love of your life. Her hand tightly placed into yours as you said your goodbyes to the rest of the poor, tortured souls that somehow survived against all odds.

The first step onto the train that would send you both to District 7 felt like freedom. The silent breeze that cherished your cheeks and hair as you walked towards Johanna's house, hand in hand with her, the smell of the lumber in the air was a sign that you could perhaps find peace with the one you fought so hard for.

District 7 was good for you. It was different from your old home, for sure, but it was a good change. A change that your hears, soul and your spirit in general needed to live. During the day, when your therapists didn't visit or when you didn't have to visit them in the Capitol, Johanna and you would take calming strolls along the woods of her District, the smell of lumber became familiar. A sent without which you would probably, quite literally die, felt like peace. The word that both Johanna and you continued to chase endlessly.

But it wasn't easy.

The nightmares were overwhelming most of the time. Both of you would wake up in a cold sweat, practically screaming yourselves awake. Tears and panic was endless, but the presence of each other brought a great comfort to both of you.

One time you were laying in Johanna's and yours bed, molded into the sheets and pillows that were practically drowning you, hiding you from the world, as you tried to chase the sleep that you didn't get last night because of Johanna's nightmare. It didn't matter, though. As long as she was safe nothing else to you mattered. Just as you fell asleep, the nightmares from your own games started to drag you in.

The cold sweat covered your skin as you screamed yourself awake. Your breathing was heavy, you couldn't control it. Your hand reached over to Johanna's side of the bed feeling the cold grace your fingertips and you felt like someone spilled a bucket of freezing cold water over your head.

"Johanna!" A scream broke free from your throat as you dashed out of the bed in a lightning speed, trying to reach the door of the house to go outside.

You were forcefully put into a panicked frenzy as you practically broke down the door of the house, your head turning around in every possible direction. You were trying to find her.

And there she was. An ax in the hand, standing a few feet away from the house as she chopped the wood, the pile of lumber growing bigger and bigger with each swing. Her arms flexing as she was lightly covered in sweat from the hard work. Her eyebrows frowned in concentration. Her gorgeous pair of crystals looked at you in confusion and light concern as she watched your panicked expression.

"You good, dummy?" She asked you as she struck her ax into the wood before whipping away the sweat that glued her freshly grown bangs against her forehead.

"I just..." You sighed in relief once again as you watched her. "I just had a nightmare and you weren't there when I woke up, but it's okay."

Johanna quickly brought you into her arms, wrapping you up in their safety as she whispered sweet nothings into your ear in a desperate attempt to calm you down.

"It's okay. You're okay. I'm okay."

"You're okay." You breathed out once more following her lead.

She separated herself from you for a moment before she brought you in for a delicate kiss that was oh so her.

"We're okay. We will be." She whispered against your lips, her arms never leaving once she wrapped them around your neck.

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TAGLIST:

@caroline-books @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[randomchaosyay]

Good evening, random. I saw your Blue Lock requests are open, so I came running. After breaking off with your fiancé after exposing his affair with your cousin, Chigiri finds out you are the new sports therapist of Manshine City and he steps up his attempts to woo you.

Chigiri Hyoma ~ Random Encounter

oooooooooh~

I enjoy the way your mind works :) this was really fun to write

This got a lot longer than I planned, oh well~

Warnings: Cheating, confrontations, swearing, mentions of ex fiancé being an asshole, Ryosuke Kira being your fiancé because I’m bad at making new characters/ naming things. Mild implied stalking.

My apologies to the people with cat allergies 😅

~~~~~~~~~

It’d been a long day at work and your boss was a mysogynistic prick. Luckily, you had found a new job a few days ago and you were able to turn in your two week notice. You and your team were able to finish up early this today and had no appointments left, so you were let off an hour and a half early. On your way home, you couldn’t help but think about your fiancé, Ryosuke Kira.

You hadn’t exactly ever felt a spark between the two of you, sure it wasn’t the fairy tale love everyone else talked about, and sure sometimes he’d ignore you, but he treated you well and that’s what counts. Lately you had thought the two of you had been drifting apart more than usual and you figured that the extra time you could spend with him today could help fix that. You thought of him for the rest of the way home, the fond smile on your face not quite reaching your eyes.

Once you reached home, you quietly shut and locked the front door behind you, to surprise him. As you gently took off your shoes, you heard voices coming from your bedroom. Maybe he was playing a video game? No, they sounded too real for that. As you edged closer to the room your gut churned in anticipation, you didn’t have a good feeling about this.

You opened the door in one fluid motion, shocked at what you saw inside. Your fiancé and your cousin, lying together in bed. You cousin saw you first, giving you a little smirk as she got up from your bed. Ryosuke looked at her confused before noticing you at the door, standing there dumbfounded, as if your world had shattered. Because it had. All those years, all that time, for what?

“I’ll see you later babe,” your cousin said to Ryosuke, giving him a seductive smile, as she gathered her clothes and things and walked out the door. You both just stared at each other for a minute before he looked away, not in shame, not in guilt, but in disinterest. He didn’t care. Your fiancé didn’t care. And that was the final straw

“Get out.” You said, voice steady and calm despite the whirlwind of emotions in your voice.

“This is our apartment, you can’t make me leave.” He responded. Rage bubbled up in your throat.

“Our? Nothing here is ours! I have paid for every damn thing in this apartment and the apartment itself! You never bothered to get another job and I still bought you everything you wanted. Get out, take your things, and don’t come back. Needless to say, we’re over.” You watched as he stared you down before getting up to gather his things.

You kept an eye on him as he packed everything up, making sure he didn’t grab anything that wasn’t his, and didn’t try to steal anything. When he finally walked out with his stuff, you made sure to keep his key so he couldn’t get back in, locked your door, and cried. You put your engagement ring away in a ring box, shoving it into the back of your nightstand, unable to get rid of it just yet.

It took you nearly the entirety of your two weeks notice to get over the betrayal your, now ex, fiancé had broken your heart with. It had passed faster than you thought, though maybe that’s because you knew the relationship had fell apart months ago. Yet why neither of you ended it was beyond you. But now it was time to put Ryosuke Kira and the bad things to rest, as today you would be starting as Manshine City’s new sports therapist.

You had moved out of your apartment and into a place closer to Manshine’s base so the commute to work would be less and you could skip the morning traffic. Without Kira mooching off your income, you had actually been able to buy a small house for yourself which you would be able to pay off in no time. Luckily your job payed pretty well.

Once you arrive at Manshine’s compound. You made your way down the halls with the receptionist as she showed you to your new office. You’re the only sports therapist working there so you’ll have your hands pretty full with all the work you assumed. Just as you were finishing setting up your workspace, you were met with a head popping in through the door. Chris Prince. He had come to ask if you were ready to meet the players.

As you and Chris walked down the halls, you made some small talk about the players and and the job requirements. One of the cool things about this job was that you’d have to travel with the team to there matches, all expenses paid for. You’d get to see the world.

“This is the door”. Chris said as the two of you stopped in front of the door to one of their training rooms. “Everyone’s gathered in here, we’ll go in when you’re ready.”

Taking a few breaths to calm your nerves, you opened the door. Everyone stopped talking as you walked in and looked over at you. Chris cut in and introduced you to everyone, telling them that you were the new sports therapist and that everyone would need to stop by your office this week to make sure you had the proper information.

After his little speech, a few people left, seemingly uninterested in you, while most stayed behind to introduce themselves. As they did you cataloged the information in your brain till the last person came up to you.

He was probably the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. His luscious locks of red hair framed his hair perfectly, eyes almost as red as his hair. Though as beautiful as he was, he looked almost scary. Well, at least until he started talking to you.

“Chigiri Hyoma, nice to meet you” he said to you, holding his hand out.

“Y/n L/n” you replied, shaking his hand, “and likewise.”

“I was wondering if you were free right now? My leg could use some help.”

You agreed instantly, and the two of you walked back to your office, you let him guide you slightly as he explained that he had torn his ACL a while back and it still need some therapy and help from time to time.

From then on, Chigiri would come to your office a lot because of “his leg”. Though with the frequency he showed up you were 90% sure that wasn’t true. Well it’s not like you were complaining after all, whenever he’d show up you’d talk about the most random things, being with him was always really fun.

______

Over the almost year you had gotten to know him, you had developed a big fat crush on Chigiri Hyoma. He was sweet and kind, yet fun and exciting at the same time. Every moment with him was comforting yet gave you butterflies. You couldn’t help but think about him, always looking forward to his visits to your office, and to the times you’d go hang out with him outside of work as well, which was getting ever more frequent as time went on.

Currently, you were on the sidelines, watching Chigiri the team completely decimate their opponents as they played. Once they were done and showered, you treated whatever needed to be treated and took some preventative measures for any aches and soreness they would develop in a day or two.

As soon as you were off duty and ready to go home, you turned around and instead, you were met with the sight of Chigiri Hyoma, leaning against the doorframe. Your eyes widened as you saw him. Was he waiting for you?

“Hey.” He said, voice soft.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You answered, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice, he had just had a match, shouldn’t he be resting?

“There’s a new cat cafe a little bit away from here, and you’re coming with me.” It was said with such finality you had no room to refuse. Though, you wouldn’t refuse even if you could.

“Last one there is paying!” You yelled, cackling as you ran out the door to the parking lot as fast as you could. Rest assured, there was no way you would win a race against Chigiri. As soon as you got into your car, you had to call Chigiri and ask for the address, something you had forgotten to do in your excitement.

Once you got there, you met Chigiri at the door, he making it there a few minutes before you had. He took your hand in his as you walked in and were given a booth to yourselves. Your was mind spinning at the contact.

The rest of the night was filled with mindless chatter, harmless little touches that you both savored, as much as possible. As well as, unbeknownst to you, secret pictures taken as you played with the cats, you just looked so cute, he couldn’t help himself! All was going lovely until an all too familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/n! Where have you been my love.” Ryosuke Kira, your ex, had the audacity to talk to you and call you his love

“Fuck off Kira,” This was met with a very slightly alarmed look from Chigiri, “and I’m not your love anymore, I haven’t seen you in a year and I’m all the better for it.” You had decided to cut his bullshit off before he started spouting more nonsense than he already had.

“Fuck you, Y/n. How bout you just come back to me huh? You know you need me. Just admit it now and I’ll forget all of this ever happened. And if you don’t? Well who knows what could happen.” Kira was starting to sound deranged now, a slight tinge of fear slipped through your mind, you lived alone, and there was nothing to protect you had he found out where you lived.

“Leave my girlfriend alone,” A dangerous undertone to Chigiri’s words as he moved to stand up and block you with his body, “I think she’s made it pretty clear that she want nothing to do with you, so lock off.”

Just as you worried things were about to get physical and considered between fighting or getting help, a few of the stronger employees entered and forcefully removed Kira, and apologized sincerely for letting that happen, saying your visit was on the house this time. Once they left, you and Chigiri were left alone, as the two of you stewed in the silence.

“So,” you started, breaking the silence between the two of you, “girlfriend huh?”

“Oh, about that,” he replied, face dusted with pink, “this isn’t how I wanted to do it, but now that we’re here, would you consider dating me?”

“I’d love to.” You replied happily, the universe had most definitely made up for what just happened a few minutes ago.

“Thank you, Chi-” you started as you were cut off by your new boyfriend.

“Hyoma. Call me Hyoma.”

“Thank you Hyoma.” You said, quickly giving him a kiss on the cheek before you lost your newfound confidence.

He didn’t just let it go though. Before you had a chance to pull away completely, his hands found your face as he pulled you in again for another kiss. Your lips locked as he deepenedthe kiss, soft and slow, yet still burning with passion and unspoken love.

The two of you enjoyed the rest of your time at the cat cafe, and go home smiling, just waiting for the happy times to come.

Maybe the random encounter wasn’t that bad at all, if it led to something this good.