#but i clearly lost track of all the time that's passed

[zwei-rhunen]

lonely lil sweet pea owo

[rhaenyratargcryen]

you're my shotgun lover and i want it all | tyler owens (twisters)

masterlist ❈

summary: Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells. author's note: i...wrote this...in one.......single......afternoon. my fingers hurt anyway he's so hot i have had a crush on glen powell since 2018 (set it up supremacy) but this movie reawakened something in me. i should probably watch top gun now

pairing: tyler owens x f!reader word count: 9,123 (...oopsie) warnings/tags: pWp (with, y'all!), alternate universe: canon divergence, friends to lovers, friends with benefits

also cross-posted to ao3 okay love you bye xoxo your comments and reblogs are appreciated but not required i will love you all the same i hope u like !!!! <3

all characters are 18+ these are 18+ activities minors pls do not interact my eye is twitching as i write this 

It has been one hell of a week.

The tornadic activity has been off the charts – more storms built up under ideal conditions for weather hell-bent on destruction in a multiple-day stretch than you can remember ever tracking before. Your team had obviously been up for the chase, but now that the storms have passed, and the sun shines on the cleanup efforts, you can’t help but wish you’d chosen a different life path. You love what you do, but God, were you tired. Blisters have formed on the palms of your hands despite the gloves you’d donned. You could practically feel the knots forming in your neck. You shovel one more load of leaf litter before heaving the blade into the ground and leaning against it. Across from you, a backhoe is demolishing and excavating the remains of a house.

You close your eyes and try to just let the sun warm your face, thinking about how fast it can all just be gone. Mother Nature’s a beautiful force, but she can be cruel.

“Hey, don’t be slowin’ down on me,” Tyler jokes, clapping a hand between your shoulder blades. You hadn’t heard him approach, and his voice has startled you, pulling you from your thoughts. “We’re ‘bout halfway done with our part, I think.”

“No,” you reply, swiping the back of your arm across your forehead, trying in vain to clear your bangs from your eyes, but they won’t budge. Tyler reaches up and, almost as if he isn’t even thinking about it, takes the unruly pieces of hair between his thumb and forefinger and tucks it behind your ear, underneath the temple of your sunglasses, to make sure it stays this time. The action is so intimate it sends a flush crawling up your neck. You chance a look around to make sure no one else has seen. “Not slowin’ down, I promise. Just thinking about how lucky we are to be alive. How sad it is that all these people just lost everything.”

You’ve known Tyler since the two of you were in college together, fast friends who’d stuck together through a lot that could've put a strain on any other relationship, although you hadn’t studied meteorology – you’d been in school to be a librarian. 

One night, he’d asked you to stay up and help him with a lab he’d missed for one of his classes, and he loves to say he knew it then – that you were hooked – but you were too far along in your degree to do anything about it now. Switching from an arts degree to one in STEM? You’d have had to start over from scratch. 

Tyler had formed his team while you were in grad school and he was working as a cowboy for the rodeo back home, and you’d dropped out without a second thought when he asked you to be a founding member, to travel the country with him every tornado season. Said he wouldn’t – couldn’t – think about doing it without you. You’ve been riding with him ever since.

The two of you share everything, always have, and sometimes you wonder if it might be too much for the professional relationship you’re supposed to have.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Tyler grins, the hand still glued to your back rubbing gently, sending goosebumps across your skin under your shirt. “To help ‘em feel like their luck is turnin’.”

Always the optimist, Tyler Owens. He clears his throat, the hand on your back pulling away, and steps slightly closer to you.

“One of the folks over there gave these to me,” he says, gesturing to a group of people gathering in front of a house that looks like something had tried to suck it into the ground from dead center. “I saved their cat from their screened-in porch, poor thing had been yowling all night apparently. Know these’re your favorite, so, here you go. I think you earned it.”

You take the tin from him and open it, your mouth instantly watering at the sight of the small, round butter cookies inside. “God,” you groan, picking one up and taking a bite, savoring it over your tongue. You can feel Tyler watching you carefully. “Thank you. You get me.”

“Do we get cookies, Tyler?”

Lily’s voice sounds from your left, and you glance over at her. The shit-eating look on her face tells you she did see Tyler fix your hair for you. Your stomach somersaults.

“If you’re good,” Tyler says, smirking, “after the sun sets, we can head back to the motel, find some shitty bar, and drinks’ll be on me, okay? How’s that sound?”

Lily whoops, turning to Dani, who’d since appeared beside her, and the two snicker and fist bump. 

“You need any help over here?”

You look back at Tyler, cupping one hand above your eyes to shield them from the sunlight. Despite your glasses, it shines bright from directly behind him, and you can hardly stand to look at him. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” you murmur in reply, bending down to toss some siding that had been blown off one of the houses on this street into the wheelbarrow you’ve been using. “You should go see what Boone’s up to – I don’t think anyone has seen him in a minute.”

No doubt Boone was hiding somewhere with one of the breakfast burritos Lily and Dani have been rolling since early that morning, seeing how long he can get away with not doing his part. He’s a good guy, but the manual labor side of the job isn’t really his thing.

“Eh, he’s better off wherever he is,” Tyler laughs, and a small smile takes over your face, too. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? You don’t need a break? You can take a minute to yourself, no one’ll judge. I know how this can all get to you a little more than it gets to everyone else.”

You know him well enough to know he’s not calling you weak-stomached, that he’s genuinely concerned for how you feel, but he’s right. It does all get to you. Settling in to help survivors of these natural disasters is just something that comes with the chasing – there isn’t one without the other for you and the rest of the crew. You nod, glancing back up at him. 

“I’m okay, Tyler. Go off and be the face of the operation – you don’t have to worry about me.”

Tyler’s eyes narrow, his gaze shifting between your eyes, trying to find evidence you’re withholding the truth from him, but he seems to find nothing. With a minute tip of his head, he turns to resume working through a long-term plan for rebuilding the town with the mayor and some other members of the local government. 

This is something else you know he loves to do – shmooze with higher-ups, show off his people skills. Not only are they higher-ups, they’re small-town folk. His kind of people. He knows how to get through to them, how to get them to trust him. You love that about Tyler. He’s never condescending – he always has a genuine desire to help. He’s been through this hundreds of times, and these people may only have been through it this one time. You look around at them, at the people of all ages picking up the pieces that remain of their community, then cross your fingers and send a thought out to anyone listening:

Please let it be the only time.

After a few more hours of genuinely back-breaking work, you hear Tyler’s sharp whistle and know it’s time, meandering over to his truck where it’s been parked for almost eighteen hours. Using your teeth, you pull your gloves from your hands and hiss. They’ve been rubbed raw, the skin blistering where each finger meets the palm. You try to ignore the throbbing sensation, leaning against the passenger side door and closing your eyes. The rest of the crew sidle up to you, taking long drags from water bottles and cigarettes and trying to make peace with how you’re leaving this place tonight.

“Does anyone else want to break off to shower first?”

It seems Dani’s the only one, and they shrug, putting their hand out, palm up, to Dexter, who hands them the keys to the RV.

“Meet y’all there,” they say, stifling a yawn, and you know it’ll be a bit before you see them. The rest of you will have to pile into Tyler’s truck, and before you can object, the other three crawl into the back seat and leave you on the front bench with Tyler. You let yourself in and close the door behind you, buckling and watching as Tyler shakes someone’s hand and hustles to meet the rest of you. His Texans cap hits the bench before he does, between the two of you, and he turns his keys in the ignition, buckling his own seatbelt.

“Where we headin’?”

“There’s a place with a mechanical bull nearby. I vote there.”

“How nearby is ‘nearby,’ Boone?”

“Uh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, does a quick Google to double-check. “Forty-five minutes?”

Dexter leans over and grips Boone’s phone, reading the screen. “In the opposite direction of the motel, Boone.”

Everyone groans, objecting, and you press your hand against your temple to alleviate the pressure there. The noise, God, the noise.

“Could we go somewhere closer to the motel, maybe?”

“It’s got a mechanical bull,” Boone stresses, and everyone rolls their eyes.

“Boone, you know damn well we’re not making it back to the motel if we go that far away.”

He groans, and you pull your own phone out, checking Maps to see what’s around the motel.

“This one’s three minutes from where we’re stayin’,” you say, showing Tyler your screen, and he nods, shifting into reverse, backing out, and starting down the one lane of the street that’s been cleared of debris. 

“Hey Boone,” you toss over your shoulder as Tyler shifts into second gear. “By the way. Long time no see.”

Lily snorts, smacking you on the shoulder to let you know she thought that was a good one. Boone shakes his head. 

“Hey, just because you didn’t see me all day doesn’t mean I wasn’t out there, too. How do I know you were workin’, weren’t sitting on your ass in the shade somewhere, hm?”

You hold your raw, red palms out for him to inspect and that shuts Boone up quick. Tyler whistles as he gets an eyeful of your skin.

“God damn, girl,” Lily murmurs. “That looks like it hurts. I think I might have Aquaphor in my bag back at the motel if you want some.”

“I’ll be alright,��� you reply, knocking your elbow against her knee behind you in thanks. “Appreciate you.”

The rest of the drive is taken mostly in silence, everyone in the backseat trying to rest their eyes, but you stay up, your eyes on the road, so Tyler isn’t the only one making the thirty-ish minute drive back to where you’re staying, where you checked in only after it’d been decided which towns had been hit the worst, so you could reach all of them easily by truck.

“What’s goin’ on in your head? Hm?”

You turn to look at Tyler and he glances at you from out of the corner of his eye, then at your lap, at the fingernails you’ve picked down to the quick. “Real quiet over there.”

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t let Boone get to you,” Tyler says, tapping his right fist on your thigh once, twice, then letting it rest there. You brush your knuckles against his and he opens the fist immediately, taking your hand in his but not squeezing, careful not to put pressure on the blisters on your palms.

“It’s not that,” you start, then realize your mistake, your admission. “I really – I think I’m just tired. It’s been a long week.”

You’re acutely aware of your hand in Tyler’s. It’s not like you’ve ever been shy around him – your cheeks flush at the thought – but this is…different. Sweet. More.

“Yeah, that it has,” he sighs, adjusting his left hand on the steering wheel so he can drive a little more comfortably, but his right hand stays in yours. 

You settle back into silence, Tyler seemingly having dropped the subject, and your eyes return to the road, but you feel him looking over at you, checking on you, every once in a while. You try your hardest not to meet his gaze. 

Soon enough, Tyler is putting the truck in park, then shutting the thing off. The noise – or lack thereof, you guess – wakes Dexter in the back, then Lily, who snorts when she sees your hand in Tyler’s. You pull away and unbuckle your seatbelt, watching as Tyler, with a hurt look on his face, wipes his hand on his jeans and swings himself down and out of the truck.

“C’mon, Boone,” he shouts, slapping a hand on the door that Boone has his head resting against, and the man sits up straight, wiping sleep from his eyes. “The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. Drinks on me, pal!”

The motel really is that close to the bar, so you all decide you’ll leave the truck parked there and walk home at the end of the night. The unspoken verdict is that you will all be getting shitfaced tonight.

The lingering smell of cigarettes in the air seems to rejuvenate everyone and Lily pumps a fist when she spots the old-fashioned jukebox across the room, then claps a hand over her mouth when she realizes there’s a TouchTunes sitting right next to it.

“Oh, I am so forcing you fuckers to listen to Chappell Roan all night,” she says gleefully, and you laugh along with her, looping your arm in hers and letting her pull you across the room while the boys settle in at the bar.

“So what was that all about?”

“What was what all about?” You play dumb, shrugging when Lily gives you a hard look and unhooks her arm from yours.

“Girl, seriously,” Lily scoffs, bumping your hip with hers and slipping a twenty dollar bill into the TouchTunes. Evidently she wasn’t joking when she meant you’d be listening to Chappell Roan all night. “I saw that thing earlier, the hair thing, don’t think I didn’t. And y’all holding hands in the truck. What’s going on there?”

You shake your head but she grabs your wrist. “I’m serious, Lil. Nothing’s going on. We’re friends – good friends. He noticed I was having a hard time today, and wanted to make sure I was alright. That’s all.”

You can tell she doesn’t fully believe you, and when she opens her mouth to object, you cut her off.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom, okay?”

Lily watches you, trying to read the small line between your eyebrows, but eventually she nods and lets go of you, letting you turn away from her. You push through the door to the women’s restroom, your nose wrinkling at the smell, but you ignore it. Standing in front of the sink, you watch yourself, hands shaking. This isn’t you. You’re better than this at shoving these feelings for Tyler down, way down – or, rather, you had been, up until this week broke you, apparently. Turning the knob for the cold water to the left, you let it run over your sore hands, hissing at the feeling. Carefully, you cup your palms and watch them fill, then splash the water onto your face, soothing the flush. There. That should help.

There’s a cold bottle of Coors in front of the seat next to Dexter when you arrive back to the group, “Red Wine Supernova” playing from the speakers. You almost snort at all the old men – regulars, no doubt – groaning out their distaste for whoever chose the music all across the room.

“Thanks,” you toss over your shoulder at Tyler, sitting on the other side of Dexter and Boone. He nods and nurses his own. You frown and settle onto the stool, leaning an elbow on the bartop so you can turn and face your friends. The cold beer against the palms of your hands feels so nice.

What’s wrong with him? He won’t make eye contact with you, and you notice his jaw clicking as he grits his teeth. What’s got his panties in a twist?

As the night unfolds, you find yourself laughing more and more, loosening up, letting the stress of the last week fade into memory. Someone has produced a deck of cards from God knows where and Dani – who did join the group eventually – is showing off card tricks you didn’t even know they knew. You feel a warmth spreading through your body, and you can’t stop thinking about how much you love all of these people. Your friends. Your family. Empty bottles are swiftly replaced with full, cold ones without notice, and everyone is languid, relaxed, unburdened by the work that you’re all doing.

You take a pull from your drink, using the cover of the bottle to risk a glance to Tyler three seats down from you to find that he’s already watching you, and the look in his eye tells you exactly what he’s thinking. That somersault-y feeling is lower than your stomach now. You’re only three beers deep, but the air in your head reminds you that you’ve barely eaten all day, so you’re a little more affected by the alcohol than you’d usually be. Impolitely, you reach across Dexter next to you to grab a handful of peanuts from the basket to his left.

Glancing back up at Tyler, you meet his heady gaze again, and he smirks around the lip of the bottle against his mouth. He knows he’s got you right where he wants you. You swallow nervously around another sip of beer.

Every once in a while, the two of you will get a little too drunk, stay until last call, sneak back to your motel room, and fuck. Nobody knows – at least you don’t think they do – and you never talk about it when you’re sober. Tyler will generally stay until you fall asleep, but he’s always gone when you get up the next day. Only once has he woken up in bed with you the next morning, and you’ve never made that mistake again. There isn’t a name for what you feel for him, you don’t think, and you can’t tell what he thinks of the arrangement. Clearly he likes it, or he wouldn’t be making eyes at you from across three people’s laps as you pull these peanuts from their shells.

“Alright, y’all,” Lily says, slapping a hand on the bar, startling you out of your thoughts. You watch her, popping a nut into your mouth. “Think I’m gonna head out. I suggest you all do, too, fuckers, it’s late.”

Everyone starts to protest, but one glance at the clock tells you you’ve all stayed much longer than you thought – it’s a quarter past midnight, and you’ve got to be up with the daylight. You balk, but if you want to talk to Tyler tonight, you know you’ve got to shoulder your exhaustion and stick it out a little longer.

“I think I might stay for a bit,” you murmur, watching everyone stand and gather their things. You glance over at Tyler, who you can see clearly now that everyone’s out of their seats, and he’s watching you, too. The look on his face reads plain, now – he wants you.

“I’ll stay with her,” he says, eyes on yours. The green in them has disappeared almost completely, you notice, his pupils blown wide. “Walk her back. Y’all head back if you want.”

“I might stay, too –” Boone’s voice cuts off, coughing as Lily elbows him in the stomach, maybe a little too hard. “What the fuck was that for?”

“You’re going to bed, too, Boone,” Dani interrupts, a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. They poke him once when he starts to protest. “C’mon, now.”

Everyone shuffles out the front, Dexter calling good night, and all of the sudden, it’s just you and Tyler. You don’t know why, but your palms begin to sweat at the thought of being alone with him again. He stands, palming his drink, and slides onto the seat next to you, his body angled towards yours.

He’s never made you nervous like this. You don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“So,” Tyler starts, grinning at you. “You come here often?”

You snort, emboldened by the booze, and he chuckles in response. “Idiot.”

“God, but I do love making you laugh.”

You blush under his scrutinous gaze, and take a quick swig of the dregs of your drink, unsure what to say to that. He mirrors you, taking a sip of his own while his eyes bore into yours. Accusatory.

“You don’t do it much anymore, you know that?”

“Do what?”

“Laugh.”

You press your fingertips to your mouth and Tyler’s eyes follow your hand. “I guess I just haven’t had much to laugh about lately,” you start, sighing deeply. “Tornado season’s been hard this year, and you know how much that – it gets to me. As much as I love what we do. You know. Remember that family a couple weeks back whose daughter was stuck under her bunk bed when it pressed on her too long, lost her leg below the knee? That got to me, Tyler. It did.”

“It gets to me, too,” he murmurs, knocking his knee against yours. “I guess I’m just better at hiding how bad it affects me. You can talk to me about it, though. You can talk to any of us.”

“I know I can,” you breathe, trying to keep your hands from shaking. “I know. Sometimes I don’t know what to say, though, you know, what is there to say? It’s not fair to complain about how sad it makes me to watch these people lose everything.”

“You’re allowed to feel sad. And to feel frustrated. It’s not fair, you’re right, but we’re doing good work, yeah? Fighting the good fight. Figuring out what makes these things tick, how to warn people when they’re in the path, get them outta the way and safe. Maybe they lose their house, their car, but they won’t lose themselves, or each other. That’s what matters most. Just remember that.”

You look up at him, set your elbow on the bartop, and prop your chin on your open palm. Your hands don’t hurt so bad anymore, you notice. “Thanks, Tyler.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, but you shake your head. 

“Seriously. You always know what to say.”

A look crosses his face then, too quick for you to read, and he sets his drink down, flagging the bartender over to close out the team’s tab. You frown, wondering if you’d, ironically, said the wrong thing.

“What’s up?”

Tyler looks back to you, and this time, the look in his eyes is unmistakable. It burns. “Taking you home, sweetheart.”

The walk back to your motel is done in silence. Tyler’s hand swings next to yours, and you feel it searching for yours more than once, but you don’t take it. You climb the stairs together, slowly, and he walks you to your door. His room is one more floor up.

You can tell he thinks you won’t invite him in, that you’ve changed your mind – or maybe that you never made it up. He hadn’t, after all, told you plainly that that was why he’d stayed with you at the bar. You unlock the room with your key card and step inside, opening the door only far enough for you to fit through it. You turn back to look at him, his face awash in the street lights shining into the hallway. You flip the lightswitch on next to you, illuminating the room behind you, too.

“Well,” he murmurs, making to head back down the stairs. “Good night.”

“Tyler?”

His head turns back to look at you, watching as you hold out one hand and he takes it, letting you pull him closer to you. You press yourself into him, push your whole face against his chest, your hip keeping the door from closing on the two of you. You inhale deeply, the smell of him overtaking your senses. His cologne, yes, but underneath that, the smell of dirt, earth. Home.

You feel his arms wrap around your back and you turn your head to the side, press your ear to his heartbeat. Your hands come up to scratch down his back and you feel it when he shudders.

“Stay?”

You hear his breath hitch in his chest, then the deep rumble of his voice as he says, “Alright, baby.”

With a short inhale, your eyes flutter, nearly closing at the term of endearment. You step back, pulling him with you, and as you close the door behind you, he pushes one hand up into your hair and pulls your head toward his.

“I, uh,” you whisper against his lips when they get close enough to yours, “I think I might shower first, if that’s okay with you?”

“Alright,” he murmurs, unlacing his hand from the strands of your hair before toeing his boots off and carefully setting them under the chair next to the front door. “You want company?”

You swallow. You’ve never done anything like that before. It’s always been quick. When you do this with him, you hardly ever have time for a chat before he’s got your shirt over your head and his mouth on your skin.

“Sure,” you reply. You feel him watch as you turn around and pull your shirt off, reaching back to unclasp your bra. The modesty feels redundant, but you can’t help it.

“Not gettin’ shy on me now, are you? S’not like I haven’t seen you naked before,” he chuckles, and you throw a look at him over your shoulder just as he’s pulling his own shirt over his head. He left his hat at the bar, you think. You’ll have to go back in for it when you pick up the truck.

“Tyler,” you scold, and he laughs at you, steps across the room to wrap an arm around your torso and press a kiss to where your neck meets your shoulder. The place he knows makes you melt. You sigh and push back against him, the feeling of his hard chest against your bare back a welcome one. This feels more like what you know, what you’re used to.

“Shower,” you remind him, and he nods, his forehead pressed into that spot now, and he pushes his fingers underneath the waistband of your jeans, running them along the bit of skin there around to the front, where the fabric splits at the button. He pops it undone, then uses his thumb and forefinger to grip the zipper and slowly – so slowly – pulls that down. He can’t help himself, you know that, and so you hold your breath and wait for him to push his hand into your panties. Ever a predictable man, he does just that, and you gasp at the feeling of his warm hand against you.

“Are you sure?” Tyler’s breath against your neck makes you shiver, and you press your ear to the side of his chin. He runs his fingers along the seam of you, finding first your clit, your legs twitching at the sudden rush of pleasure when he brushes his hand against it, then pushing down to find you wet and wanting. You cry out softly. “You don’t sound sure. You don’t feel sure.”

You hum, your neck stretching back until your head is pressed to his chest, and he pulls his hand back up to start working small circles on your clit, your wetness on his fingers allowing for smooth movement, with just enough friction to have you panting for more. 

“Sounds more to me like you kinda want me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“Tyler,” you whimper, telling him with just his name that you are getting close. He smiles against the side of your neck, pulling his hand away and shoving your jeans and underwear down just enough that his hand has room to smack your clit lightly. You squeal, right leg kicking out at the feeling, and he continues moving his hand in circles to soothe the hurt.

Your breath is coming out of you in short huffs, and before you can come, Tyler takes his hand off of you and wraps it around your stomach to join the other. You pant and whine, rubbing your thighs together to chase the feeling he’d had you practically pressed up against, now ebbing with the loss of his fingers.

“You said you wanted to shower,” he whispers in your ear, pulling your panties back up, and you scowl, pushing away from him. He laughs and holds his hands up in defense as you pick your t-shirt up off your bed and crack it at him like a whip. “Let’s shower, baby.”

“I might kick you out right now, Owens,” you snark, but the small smile on your face gives you away, and Tyler unbuttons his own jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor at the end of the bed. Your jeans join his, and you’re both left in your underwear.

“You wouldn’t,” he replies, pulling his briefs off slowly, biting his bottom lip as you watch him. “You like this cock too much.”

You can’t help laughing at him, but the sight of him bare in front of you does have you biting your lip. You step forward to cup his growing length in your hand. Before you can move it, Tyler puts a hand on your wrist.

“How’s your hand?” He makes to pull it away, presumably to turn it over and appraise your blisters, but you shake your head.

“S’fine,” you whisper, tightening your grip. You tug once, twice, and press a kiss to his bare chest, then tip your head back to search out his lips. He leans down to oblige you, his lips parting against your mouth as you twist your fist. You love these moments you share with him, when you’re both bare, physically, emotionally, away from the real world, and you can pretend this is an everyday thing. When you’re not trying to tell yourself you feel nothing for him. Like this is just how it is between you.

Tyler groans when you pull your hand away from him and you click your tongue, press that same hand against his bicep.

“Doesn’t feel so good, now does it?”

Before you even know what’s happening, Tyler is picking you up, one arm underneath your back and the other around the backs of your knees. You look up at his face and laugh. “Put me down, Owens!”

He grins and carries you the few paces into the bathroom, placing you on your feet in front of the tub. Tyler leans down and pushes his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties, waiting for you to put your hands on his shoulders and step out of them.

He lets you pull away from him to turn the hot water on, adjusting the cold side until the temperature is perfect, before pulling you against his chest once again. This time, you can feel his hard cock pressed against your backside, and you hum appraisingly. You reach behind you to fist him again, but he shakes his head – you feel his chin brush against the top of your head – and he groans out, “Mm-mm.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna shower, baby, c’mon.”

You glance back towards him and watch as he flicks the overhead light on. “So we don’t slip and die,” he says, and you laugh, pushing the shower curtain to the side. Holding Tyler’s hand, you step over the lip of the tub and under the steady stream of warm water, inhaling deeply when it hits the sore muscles in your shoulders and back. Tyler groans at the feeling, too, when he steps in behind you.

“Here, switch with me,” he murmurs, guiding you by your waist until you’re the one underneath the water. You let it fall onto the top of your head, over your face and down the back of your hair, for a moment, eyes closed, relishing the feeling. Tyler reaches both hands up and brushes the water out of your eyes, runs his hand over the top of your head. 

“Shampoo?”

You open one eye, the other shut against the water, and nod. You gaze up at him, heart squeezing at the way he’s watching you. His smile widens and he takes the tiny bottle in his hand – it looks even more comically small now – and dumps the product into his other palm, setting the bottle down onto the edge of the tub and rubbing his hands together.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asks, inhaling sharply through your nose when you feel his hands run through the hair at the crown of your head. Your stomach aches with longing as you register how unnaturally intimate this is. His fingers feel so good against your scalp, which is slightly sunburnt, you’re now realizing. He massages the shampoo further into your hair, running his fingers down the back of your neck and across the tops of your shoulders. When he’s satisfied with his shampoo job, he steers you by your arms to face him again, then carefully helps you tilt your head back and rinses it all from your hair.

You watch him pick up the other small bottle from the shelf, warm water still running down the back of your head. 

“I’ll do my conditioner,” you murmur, taking the bottle gently from his hands. “It’s a – it’s a science.”

“I am very good at science, if you can recall.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s something I’ve gotten perfectly right. It’ll take just a sec.”

So you work the conditioner through the ends of your hair, avoiding his gaze as he watches your hands first coat your hair in the product, then rinse it out. He reaches forward to run his own fingers across it, as gently as he can.

“Hm,” he makes the noise in the back of his throat, pulling his hand away. “Soft.”

You can hardly look at him, the twisting feeling in your stomach shifting to something warmer, something further from apprehension, something that feels a lot like want. “You?”

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m good. Here,” he says, rubbing his hands across the plane of your upper back. “You’re tense. You worked hard today. Let me help.”

You weren’t going to protest, but before you can, Tyler guides you forward and out of the direct spray of the shower, then presses his thumbs into your muscle. You groan, your head falling forward onto his chest at the feeling, and he chuckles at you, continuing with his hands. “Feel good?”

“So good,” you whimper, and you feel his cock twitch against your stomach.

“You fucking dog,” you joke, and Tyler laughs against you, pushing your hair off the back of your neck and pressing his thumbs in there, too.

“Hey, what can I say? I like making my girl feel good.”

You freeze. His girl? His girl. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, and he keeps pressing his fingers into your sore muscles, pulling one hand away briefly to push the showerhead down and away from the two of you. You glance up, already missing its warmth, but you find that the steam rising around you is doing a good enough job at that.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and guiding you to press your hands against the tiled wall to your left, running his hands down your back.

“What are you –”

Before you can finish the thought, you feel Tyler’s fingers parting the seam of your cunt from – from behind, and you groan at the feeling of his middle finger slipping inside of you.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groans, his knees hitting the floor behind you. You toss a glance at him over your shoulder and your own knees nearly buckle at the way he’s looking up at you – with hunger, and with reverence, and with something else entirely unrecognizable. He looks wild. He looks in love.

One of Tyler’s hands clamps down around your hips and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh as his finger starts to shift in and out of you. You shiver and push your face into the cool tile, groaning softly when he finds that rough bit of flesh inside of you, the one that makes you come undone if he works it long enough.

“Yeah?” Tyler sounds fucked out already, his voice breathy against your skin, and you can picture the look on his face, the concentrated expression he gets when he’s trying to make you come. You try to focus on the feeling of the shower’s spray where it hits the edge of your foot rather than how good his finger feels inside you because if you think too closely about how good it feels, you’ll get lightheaded. And nobody wants that.

“Yeah,” you reply weakly, and for a few minutes it’s just like that, the only sound in the bathroom the shower, your panting moans, and the noise your pussy makes as he pulls his finger in and out.

“Sound so good for me, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh again, and you whine, trying to protest when he slips his finger from you. He laughs deep in his chest and lightly smacks the swell of your ass.

“Don’t complain when I’m doin’ somethin’ nice for you,” he jok, and you can feel then that he’s shifting himself around. You want to look over your shoulder, want to see for yourself what he’s doing, but freeze when you feel his palms cupping your ass, his nose pressing against the inside of your thighs.

Your mouth forms the word oh, but no sound comes out until you feel his mouth press against your cunt, tongue pushing inside of you, and then you cry out, chest heaving, when he presses a sloppy, wet kiss to your clit. You pull your face from where it’s still resting against the tile and look down at Tyler to find he’s already looking right up at you. His grip on your ass tightens when you make eye contact with him, and he spreads you open wider for him, eyes narrowing as his tongue flicks again, and again, and again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans against you, the vibrations causing your legs to twitch. You already thought you were going to burst, the steam from the shower, the way he’d washed your hair, the fact that he was in your room at all – it all made you feel slightly insane. To add insult to injury, he’s just pushed two fingers inside of you and immediately found the spot that takes you out, and you start to shake a little.

“Tyler,” you whine, pushing one hand down to grip his hair. He groans when you tighten your hold on it, fucking into you a little faster. “Tyler, fuck, gonna come.”

“So come, baby,” comes his reply, and you do, you come so hard that the toes on your right foot curl until you’re on tiptoe and Tyler has to reach up and grip your waist to steady you. You feel it crest, and peak, then subside, but he keeps working you through it, his mouth moving against you still, and a second, smaller – though still good – orgasm wracks your body right after the first.

You breathe through it, push your foot down so you’re standing flat on the surface of the tub again, and wait for Tyler to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Baby,” Tyler groans, squeezing your hips, his fingernails biting slightly into your skin. “You gotta let go’a me, if you want me to get up.”

His voice, fuck, his voice, you think, releasing your grip on his hair and turning to watch him rise from his knees, the tile cold against your back. You surge forward to kiss him square on the mouth and he catches you, smiles against you when you part your lips to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Was that good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, pressing one, two, three more quick kisses to his mouth, before he reaches behind you to turn off the water. “So fucking good.”

Neither of you bother with a towel, instead opting to stumble toward the queen bed in the middle of the room and climb right underneath the covers.

“Hi,” you whisper when you’re settled in, the duvet pulled up under your chin. Your eyes rove over his face, then glance over to the alarm clock behind him. 1:56 in the morning. “You still wanna fuck?”

Tyler snorts, reaching over to poke you in the side, gripping the skin there until you start to laugh. “You still wanna fuck?”

“Yeah,” you reply, grinning, when you catch your breath. “Wanna?”

He’s quiet for a second, watching the duvet rise and fall with each breath you take, before he peels it off of you, using his elbow to push himself up until he’s leaning over you. There’s a rosy flush on your chest, your breasts heaving and it’s all he can do not to lean down and take one of your nipples in his mouth, the one closest to him. Instead, he runs the back of his other hand across your chest, catching against the hard peak, and watches your breath stick to the inside of your throat. You feel yourself subconsciously leaning toward him as his face comes toward you. You want him to kiss you, but instead, he angles his mouth to kiss the skin below your chin.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your neck, pressing his open mouth to you there, and you gasp at the feeling – of his mouth against you, and of his praise. It all feels so nice. He just made you come in the shower, and now he’s going to make you come in this bed, hopefully more than once. 

You wrap your hands around his back and pull him toward you, watch as he settles in between your thighs. You can feel his thick cock, heavy, insistent, where it presses against you, and you want to take him into your hands, but he has other plans. 

With one hand pressed into the pillow on either side of your head, Tyler uses his knees to knock your legs out further, sitting back against his heels when he’s satisfied. He wraps his big hands around your thighs and pulls you closer, smiling down at you. “You’re so beautiful.”

You blush when he repeats himself, suddenly feeling very bare. He’s just as naked as you are, but you can’t help but feel like he’s seen your whole hand, meanwhile you hardly have any idea what cards he might hold. In the dim light from the lamp beside your head, you notice that you can see the green of his irises again. It seems like the shower sobered the two of you up very quickly.

His gaze locked on yours, Tyler takes himself into his hand, groaning at the pressure of his grip after neglecting his own want for so long, but he suddenly curses, pausing just as he’s about to press inside of you.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom,” he breathes, sitting back again. He runs one hand through his hair, visibly weighing the options.

“It’s okay, Tyler,” you murmur, leaning up onto your elbows. “It’s okay. I have an IUD, and I got screened after the last time I was with someone. I’m good. I’m good if you’re good.”

Tyler heaves a heavy sigh, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re sure? I’m clean, too, cross my heart. But only if you’re sure.”

You nod. “My head is clear. I think I shook off my drunk an orgasm or two ago.”

A grin crosses his face, and you roll your eyes at him before he even opens his mouth. Two? he mouths, then whistles lowly. You smack his stomach, and he grabs your wrist in his hand, lightning quick, pressing a kiss to the pulse point there. Your jaw falls slack, and you go all soft and pliant, letting him pin your hands above your head. His body comes down over yours, and his mouth presses to your cheek, then your forehead, and when your eyes flutter shut, the ghost of a kiss crosses them, too.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he murmurs, and normally if a man were to say that to you, you would immediately regret letting him into your bed. But for some reason, when Tyler says it, it sends that familiar warmth spiraling down into your gut. You know he means it.

Slowly – too slowly – he guides himself back to your entrance, shifting his hips so they’re resting comfortably against yours, and he presses himself inside of you. You hiss; the girth of him, although a welcome stretch, is also a bit of an uncomfortable one. He leans down to kiss you, working you through it with a thumb pressing circles into your clit, sliding himself in bit by bit until he’s fully seated. 

A groan pushes out of him when you clench around him, testing the waters.

“Careful,” he murmurs, easing his hips back. “I’d like it if this lasted longer than ten seconds, please.”

You laugh against the side of his head, pull your hands down from where he’d left them above you and wrap yourself around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you. Tyler grips your thighs and starts to work himself in and out of you, carefully, gently, but you squeeze his waist with your knees. Encouraging him. Asking him to pick it up. You can handle it.

His hips start to pull back and snap against yours quicker and quicker, Tyler panting in your ear, lifting up onto his palms and pushing himself off of you. He sits up onto his knees and tilts your hips up for a different angle, one that sets sparks dancing in front of your eyes. You groan, head tossed back, and dig your nails into his thighs as his pace picks up.

“Fuck, yeah, that it, baby? I can feel you – fuck, feel you squeezin’ me.”

You hardly have a voice with the rate he’s slipping in and out of you, barely enough to squeak out, “Fuck,” before your cunt has him in a vice grip, working through another orgasm.

“Ohhh, that’s it, huh, that’s it.” His mouth is going a mile a minute, neither of you really paying much attention to anything he’s actually saying. You’re both focused on his own mounting orgasm – you don’t feel like your body is capable of much more than that – and you weakly clamp down around him once more. His eyes squeeze shut, his hips stutter, and he grits out, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck,” before he slots against you and you feel him filling you. You run a hand down his back, soothing him as he comes, biting your lip at the feeling, foreign but enjoyable.

Tyler groans and glances down to where his cock is softening inside of you. He eases his hips back, cupping your face and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he does. “Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You nod meagerly, pressing the back of your hand against your warm cheek. He watches you and, assured that you’re not going to pass out on him or anything, stands and hobbles into the bathroom. The sink turns on out of sight, and you close your eyes, listening to the water run. Tyler returns with a warm, wet towel and wipes the inside of your thighs, swiping gently across your cunt, before folding the towel and letting it fall to the floor at your bedside.

You feel loose, calm. Safe. You hardly notice him turn the light off, but you do feel the bed dip beside you as he rejoins you under the covers and pulls you into his arms. You melt against his sturdy chest, his heartbeat under your face a comfort, the rhythmic tick tick tick of it lulling you to sleep. But there’s still one thing you have to know before you can relax completely.

His breathing has started to even out, but he hasn’t snored yet, so you know he’ll still hear you when you ask, “Are you gonna leave?”

He grunts an acknowledgement of your question, nuzzling down into the top of your head.

“Do you want me to stay?”

You know your answer, but you still bite your lip, considering the question. You hadn’t thought before that maybe he left after every night you spent together because he thought you didn’t want to wake up with him. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then I’ll stay.”

If he’s at all worried about what will happen when you wake up tomorrow, he doesn’t show it, but anxiety courses through you at the thought of anyone finding out. Does he want the others to know? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Stop thinking about it,” he whispers, like he can hear your thoughts racing. “It’ll be fine. Just go to sleep.”

Easy for him to say. He’s out like a light. And you’re left alone with your thoughts until you fall into fitful, dissatisfying sleep sometime around when the world outside starts to turn blue.

A pounding on your door wakes you from deep sleep – the deepest you’d gotten all night, at least – and you try to sit up but find there’s a heavy weight on your chest blocking you. You rub the sleep from your eyes, glancing down at the sleeping body next to you. It takes a second for it to register: Tyler’s here. 

Tyler’s here. Sidled up against you, arm thrown over your stomach like this is where he belongs. He didn’t leave. He stayed, like he said he would. His face looks so peaceful – so beautiful – you almost hate to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead! Time to get a move on!”

Almost. You scramble to push Tyler off of you, ignoring his noises of protest, jumping out from under the covers and grabbing various articles of clothing off the floor to pull over your naked form. You plop back down on the bed, this time on his side, right next to where he’s starting to wake.

“Dude, get up, they’re gonna know you’re not in your room. They’re gonna know you’re in here.”

“So what,” he grumbles, rolling over as you push him and settling deeper into the bed. “Let ‘em.”

You sit up straight, one hand on his arm. “You mean that?”

He hums and turns his neck to glance at you over his shoulder. “Yeah, ‘course I do. You’re my girl.”

Your face flushes a deep pink and Tyler grins, reaching over to wrap an arm around you and drag you back down into the bed, pinning you under him and peppering an assault of open-mouthed kisses all over your face. You grin, thinking that you could get used to this – just not right now.

“Seriously, Tyler,” you laugh, pushing a hand against the side of his face. He squeezes your hip. “We have to get up. We gotta get back out there.”

Tyler sighs, loosening his grip on your body and kneeling over you. “Yeah, you’re right. Alright, alright.”

He stands and takes the top sheet with him, wrapped around his waist, and heads to the bathroom. To brush his teeth, you hope. God.

“You know,” he says, head popping back out into the room, mouth full of toothpaste. “Yesterday. I wanted them to see us holding hands.”

You watch as he smiles at you and disappears back into the bathroom, then fall back onto the bed, hands pressed over your eyes. 

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you are dressed, teeth brushed, hair taken care of, day packs slung over your shoulder, and you’re pulling the door closed behind you when you hear a whistle that pulls your attention to the parking lot.

“Damn, Owens!”

The voice makes you jump, and you groan. You thought you were going to get away with the sneaking around, but the rest of your team is watching from next to the RV as the two of you descend the stairs together.

Lily and Dani turn to Boone with smug looks on both their faces, and he rolls his eyes and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. They hold their hands out for him to slap two twenty dollar bills down into.

“What’s that?” You ask when you get close enough to them.

“We had a bet that you and Owens would come out of that room together. Well, that one or his. Didn’t matter which.”

“A bet I just lost,” Boone groans, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “I thought for sure…”

The rest of the crew snickers, including Tyler, who won’t look at you. You poke a finger into his chest.

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I swear,” he says, hands up, and you don’t know why, but you believe him. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t drunkenly confess to Lily weeks ago that sometimes we, you know…”

You scoff, almost mad, but then Boone shouts and the scoff turns into a snicker because, hey, you love him, but you can’t help but relish in his defeat.

“So they knew?! That’s cheating!”

He storms off while the rest of you laugh, Dani clutching their side and following him around the side of the building to try to make amends, trailing off, “If it makes you feel any better…”

Lily looks over at you, then at Tyler, a grin swallowing her face. “So, are you guys, like, together now? Or something?”

You look up at Tyler, who’s smiling softly at you, clearly deferring to you to answer that question. You feel a surge of affection for him swell in your chest. Clearing your throat, you turn to Lily.

“Or something.”

[carebearbussy]

𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙝 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙬𝙖𝙮

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙤𝙙𝙚𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨 >:(

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 2.1k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You were practically jumping for joy.

You had been in dire need of a new wardrobe, due to the oncoming spring. After Sukuna had ruined your favorite kimono because he had practically ripped it off of your body, he promised you he would get you all of the clothes you had desired. And you had a long list of shopping planned, particularly for this moment.

Sukuna had taken you out to the local market, accompanying you on your journey for a new and improve wardrobe. Following shortly behind the two of you, were a group of butlers, followed by Uraume shortly after. The market today was bustling with people, especially coming in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Lord Sukuna and his lady in waiting, which was you. You held onto Sukuna's forearm, not wanting to get lost in the swarm of people crowding the surrounding area.

You watched as a large group of civilians followed behind you two, gossiping about where they think you'll go next. You giggle at this, quickly getting used to all of the attention you got whenever Sukuna let you go out. Passing by each and every one of the shops, you passed by a jewelry stand, taken by surprise by the dazzling jewels on the display. The shopkeeper at the stand was calling customers far and wide to come take a look at the beauties. It mesmerized you, especially thinking about how good they would look on your body. She smiled upon looking at you, beckoning you to come to her stand, despite the clear aura of Sukuna frightening most people to keep at least ten feet away.

But you found yourself staring intently, stopping your tracks in the process. You tugged on Sukuna's hand, as he focuses his attention towards you, looking down to see what you were diverting his attention to. A lousy jewelry store? A cheap one too, he thought. You look at him, though his clear distaste for your inexpensive taste. "Kuna, can I just look?" You ask him, a curious put grazing your lips. He contorts his upper lip into that of disgust, clearly looking down on the owner and her fake jewels. How dare she try to sell such a naive thing like you that fake bullshit.

"God, woman, how can you be so ingenuous." He says, finding it amusing how after spending so much time with him at his estate, you still cannot tell the difference between real and fake. He will have to teach you that later. But for now, he has to focus on getting your head out of the clouds. "What do you mean?" You ask him, furrowing your eyebrows as confusion is evident on your face.

He looks at the stand up and down, clearly looking down on the woman, as he makes it very clear how he feels. He sighs, as he places one of his lower arms on your hip, one of his upper arms on your opposite shoulder, guiding you to the small wooden stand. Moving past the woman running the stand from behind, leaning down to your eye level from behind. He took the jewel from in between her fingers and into his grasp, holding it in front of your eye, moving it in a manner that guides it along the sun in his palm, showing the shine inside easily.

It was a beautiful emerald, perfectly cut sides, forming into a cleanly cut trapezoid. Your eyes widened, looking at it. It was perfectly clear, letting you see through it like it was water. "This is fake, and clearly meant to trick a gullible woman like you." He says, moving the hand that once rested on your shoulder to the top of your head, ruffling your hair in an endearing manner. "You're lucky I was accompanying you today, or else you would have fallen for such an easy trick."

You chew the sides of your cheek, clearly not interested in the fact that it is fake. "But it's beautiful, isn't it? Please! Let me get it!" You plead, turning your head to the side, looking at him as he crouched beside you. He sighs, before looking over at the shopkeeper, who was now bowing on the gravel floor before her, out of respect at the fact that Lord Sukuna himself visited her shop. "You, look up." he says, clearly directed towards the shop owner.

"Yes, of course." She says, nervousness filling her system at the thought of something terrible. He takes a step closer to her, disregarding you. "You dare sell such filth in my presence?" He says, holding the emerald in front of her face bluntly. Her eyes widen in response, quickly shaking her head at the sight of the man before her. He scoffs, before throwing the emerald onto the floor, making the woman scramble to try and find it, but instead seeing the shattered pieces of what it once was. You notice the people surrounding you grow in number, loudly whispering to themselves about the commotion.

"I'm sorry, my lord!" She says, pleading to be forgiven. As she picks up each shard of emerald, a large foot comes up to her hand, stepping on it with a smush, making her yelp out in pain. He smirks, as he kicks the rest of the shards out in the distance, making her get up and pick up the rest.

You look around, clearly dissatisfied. You wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there, due to the embarrassment you were feeling at the moment. You fiddled your thumbs together, trying to muster up an apology towards the woman, but nothing came out. You look at Sukuna, who was now walking back towards you, completely ignoring the shop keeper panicking on the ground. He brings a hand to your forehead, caressing it with his thumb. He sees your expression, disheartened by your distress. Moving his hand down, he uses his thumb and index finger to lift the sides of your mouth into a smile.

"Hmph, somebody is being dramatic, aren't we? The hag had what was coming for her." He says, making the butlers along with Uraume laugh. He moves away from the scene, as he places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you away as you obediently follow. As you walk into the depths of the market, and away from the shop, you look back, watching as the woman is left to pick up the mess Sukuna had made. Of course, she could have stood up for herself, but she didn't, nobody does when it comes to him. Sukuna looks down at you with his lower set of eyes, observing your guilt for not helping her.

"Why worry? She will be fine. I will get you real jewelry. You said you wanted a new scarf, yes? I know a great, authentic emporium that sells the ones I know you'd like." he says, patting your back slightly.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Sometimes, you wonder why having a husband was such a great thing, but yours became very useful in times like these.

He was currently sat in his office, doing ink paperwork that was delivered to him. But you had other plans. You had two of your handmaidens set up a changing station, unfolding a dressing screen for dramatic effect. On a hanging rack, were clothes laid out to match your new goodies. And your goal? To impress him of course, even though you didn't even need to try.

Your clothes went flying over your head behind the divider, as Sukuna had to move a pair of your underwear from his desk that flew onto his papers in the process. Flicking it out of the way, he found it increasingly harder to focus on his work, as he rubbed his forehead in annoyance. You put on your outfit, struggling quite a bit due to the many layers that the clothing was made equipped with. Your small grunts did not go unnoticed by Sukuna, who by now had taken off his reading glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose.

Resting his hands on his navy blue robe, he stared at the divider, seeing your arms peek out from behind, as you lifted another layer over the top half of your body. Each layer felt like torture trying to get on, the clothing making you feel heavy. He closed his eyes for a bit, listening to the sounds of your grunts of struggle, humming to himself as he bounced his leg on the floor.

"You need help?" He asked, clearly amused at your evident struggle. Tapping his fingers on his thigh, he watched as you stopped your scuffling. Peeking over the divider, you placed your hands at the top, going on your tip toes to see him. You smile, anticipating his reaction. Will he like it? Hate it? No, he can't hate it, you look good in anything. You step off your tip toes, smiling behind the divider. "You're going to loooove this outfit I picked, 'Kuna." You say, teasing him bit by bit. He tilts his head, growing more impatient as time moves on. Tapping his foot against the hard wood, he speaks up. "Well then hurry up, I don't have all day brat."

You stepped in his field of vision, walking with slow strides to the front of his desk. You twirl in your dress, as you looked down at yourself. You were clearly struggling to move all too much, but you looked like a million bucks. Anybody would agree, especially your husband, who looked at you with a very slight astounded expression. It was very hard to tell what he was thinking to the naked eye, but you knew him all too well.

Your gown was a beautiful mixture of pink and yellow, really contrasting well together with your already loose hair. And you had paired it with new accessories you had gotten while on your trip to the market. Which was a new hairpiece, multiple rings, and one more thing you had struggled to put on, your new necklace.

You walk over to him, holding out the necklace in your palms. It was a pink diamond, hoisted in the middle of a set of pearls surrounding it. It felt heavy in your palms, wanting to pass it on to Sukuna, who was now facing you. "My, my. Well don't you look like something." He says with a chuckle, relishing in the way the gown perfectly fitted you.

Patting his lap with one hand, he beckoned you over, your cue to come sit on his lap. You scurried over, plopping yourself nicely on his large lap, making yourself a makeshift seat. He wrapped his lower set of arms around your waist, feeling the fabric that rested along your frame. He hummed in contentment, satisfied with how you look. As you held out the necklace in your hands, you fiddled with the hook to try and pry it open.

Sticking your tongue out, you were hyper focused on getting it unlocked, but to no avail. Sukuna notices this, not liking to see you struggle any further. "Christ, give it to me already." He says, snatching the necklace from you quickly with his upper set of hands. "Hey! Be careful, that was expensive-" "If it breaks I'll buy you a thousand more, simple." He said, getting back to work on your necklace. Turning the chair to face his work, he rested his hands on the desk, as you rest your head on his upper arm, watching him try to open the small clasp with his large thumbs.

You giggle, watching him finally get it open after many tries. "Tsk, that pesky thing, you're lucky it's going to look good on you." He says, placing the necklace down on his desk, getting back to focusing on his work. You pick up the necklace, as you attempt to lock it around your neck.

But your struggle continues on for a good ten minutes, as Sukuna gets frustrated with your constant shifting. "Hand it over." He says, once again taking it from you. He puts his work to a halt, as he moves either one of his hands to each side of your neck, locking the heavy necklace on your neck. He adjusts the necklace nicely, making sure it sits pretty on your collarbone. Rubbing your shoulders with his hands, you smile contently, happy with your decision to come to your husband for advice.

"Thanks for bringing me to the market, despite that scene you caused." You say, attitude crawling in your words, as you rest your head against his arm. "Whatever woman, you got what you wanted, and I got a happy bride, fair is fair." He says, lightly slapping your forearm affectionately. He stops talking for a bit, before commenting once more.

"Y'know, I should take you shopping more often, because I get to see rewards like these everyday."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

[sometimesanalice]

Dream a Little Dream

Summary: After a long week away in Lemoore, all Bradley wants to do is come home to you. The only thing is, you’re just not where he expects to find you.

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: so much fluff and a truly smitten Bradley Bradshaw (mdni)

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!)

Bradley throws his head back and lets out low groan as he hits another red light.

Nothing in the past week he’d spent up in Lemoore had felt as long as this drive home from base.

Not the stuffy dinner with the higher ups that had Mav and him exchanging looks from across the table, both of them clearly wishing to be anywhere else than done up in their Dress Whites. Not the long nights sharing a room with Hangman, who snored louder than the multiple phone alarms that he’d kept snoozing instead of turning off, as if the scratchy Navy provided sheets weren’t bad enough on their own. Not the drills or the lectures or the reviewing of the new procedural guidelines or equipment requirements with the crew stationed up there.

He'd felt the all the tension that had been building up over the week melt off of him the moment he’d turned the key in the ignition- the engine to the Bronco rumbling to life after a week of sitting on a parking lot on North Island- knowing that he was finally on his way home.

Technically, he was on his way to your apartment. But it was the same difference to him.

Wherever you were was where he wanted to be.

That was home. You were home.

Minus the fact that the San Diego traffic controllers seemed to have it out for him.

He thought for a moment he’d make it to your place in record time considering that there weren’t many people on the road a 2am. He hadn’t even bothered to turn the radio on, but even 105.3 THE ROCK where hits go to die would be preferable to the way he was agitatedly drumming his thumb on the steering wheel. But he was stubborn and now he left it off out of spite when his drive became a game of ‘How Many Times Will Rooster Hit The Red’.

It had been more stop than go at this point.

“Finally,” Bradley mumbles to himself when the light turns green and shifts out of neutral into first.

When Jake had dropped him off at base after their five-hour road trip back to San Diego, he’d decided to suck it up and stick around to get some of the paperwork that he’d been putting off out of the way so that he could enjoy the days off he had lined up after the trip. He might have lost track of time and caught a second wind filling out flight logs with only the whir of the overhead fluorescents to keep him company, working until he reached the point where he felt like he couldn’t keep his eyes opened anymore. His eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute he stayed seated at the desk he’d commandeered to work at.

It had been a week of sleeping like shit. And not just because of the creaky, lumpy mattress or Hangman’s snoring. But because he’d gotten used to your soft, warm body pressed against his and the sound of your gentle breathing to lull him to sleep. He’d had a taste of what true luxury was like and now it was hard to go back to the bare minimum he’d known before.

He’d known even before he’d left the building that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless you were tucked against him. He’d barely slept 300 miles away from you, but it would have been even worse to go back to his condo knowing you were closer than ever and yet still so far.

Being in the same city wasn’t enough for him. He needed to be under the same roof, under the same covers.

Four red lights later, he’s turning onto your block. By some kind of miracle there’s an open spot big enough for the Bronco near the main entry without him having to maneuver into it with too much effort. It’s another reason why he’s dying to have you move in with him, the parking at your apartment complex is trash. And there are never enough guest spots, even with the parking pass he kept in his glove box.

Bradley lets himself in to your apartment as quietly as he can, opening the door slowly as to not wake you. The spare key you’d given him when you’d first moved here had lived on his own set of keys for the last couple of years, along with the fighter jet keychain you’d picked up for him when the two of you were teens during a family trip to Pensacola as thanks for looking after your hermit crabs. Even if one of them did lose a claw on his watch, which he’d felt guilty about for days, until you told him it would most likely grow back.

He’d never had a lot to be sentimental about, but that keychain with the charm whose silver finish had long been worn off around the edges was one of the few things that had been everywhere with him, so it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

He gingerly sets the key on the console table you had near the front door, trying to keep them from clattering together. Carefully, he toes his boots off and sets his bag down next to them, making sure to keep it off the runner you had in the entryway. He knew you wouldn’t care if he tracked in some dirt on it, but he did.

One of the things he’s always liked about your apartment is how lived in it was.

Even in the dark, Bradley could make out the ruffly curtains you’d hung up over the door to your balcony. And the impressive gallery wall that framed your TV, one that was a mix of your own photos and art that you’ve accumulated along the way. There were more pillows than he thought was necessary on your couch, but made for one of his favorite afternoon nap spots. You usually had fresh flowers on your coffee table, the ones there now from what he could tell looked a little wilted, so he made a note to pick you up something from the shop next to the grocery store when he goes out to restock his fridge.

He lightly treads past your kitchen- and the two different types of coffee makers you had lined up on the countertop- towards your bedroom.

Bradley could already see it in his mind’s eye. The curve of the dip of your waist as you slept under your white comforter with the light blue piping along the edges. Always with a foot kicked out. The framed picture of the two of you on your nightstand. The chair in the corner where your pile of folded-and-to-be-put-away-later clean clothes sat. Your dresser topped with some leafy green thing and your tray of jewelry, where you’d cleared out not one but three drawers - which was a whole half of wooden unit he’d helped you build when you first moved in- for him to use for his things. Not to mention space in your closest too and room on the shoe rack you kept in there.

It was more than what he needed, but that was you. You’d always been the type to go above and beyond for the people you cared about. But now it meant more because you weren’t just sharing your space with him, you were sharing your life with him.

The blinds aren’t pulled closed, so your room is illumined with more city light than he was expecting. And he can see with clarity that everything is in its place.

The picture of him kissing your cheek- your nose scrunched up in that way he knows so well- in the grassy park where you’d surprised him with a showing of one of his favorite movies on one of your first dates together. The white linen covered chair with your clothes had an old sweatshirt of his tossed over the back of it that he knows if he were to pick it up would smell more like you than him. The plant in the white ceramic vase on your dresser was one you’d bought at the farmer’s market almost two years ago now to commemorate your big move there, you’d proudly carried it around for the rest of the morning while he’d carried your ever-growing collection of bags.

Everything right where it should be, except for you.

Your bed is perfectly made up. Well, the side he usually sleeps on is. The are corners still tucked in with the same crisp precision you use to wrap presents. The right side, however, looks like the comforter and sheets were hastily thrown back, a rumpled pile of fabric in the spot where he thought you’d be sleeping.

There’s only one other place where you would be.

Bradley doesn’t even try to quiet his steps as he struts back towards the door with a new destination in mind. He shoves his feet back into his boots, not bothering to retie his laces, as he scoops his keys out of the little bowl he’d just put them in barely even five minutes ago. Only slowing down long enough to make sure he’s properly locked the door behind him before he’s back in the Bronco for the second time that night.

This time the drive feels like nothing. Especially since he hits green lights all the way there.

His lips turn up in an automatic smile when he sees your all-too-practical white Honda Civic parked in the drive way of his condo. He doesn’t think he could find the words to describe the feeling that wells up in his chest at the sight of it.

It just felt right.

Bradley lets himself in, using his own key this time.  

His condo had always felt more like a place to land, rather than a home. Over the last few months though that feeling has changed for him.

For Bradley’s whole life things have felt temporary. The people he met. The things he owned. The bases he lived on. You made him crave permanence in a way he’d never experienced before. The two of you had a couple decades worth of history, but he knew he couldn’t be truly content until his ring was on your finger and you shared his last name.

He can see your fingerprints in this space from the knit blanket draped on his couch to the framed print on the wall over the breakfast nook. He can see the promise of a future together in the fancier-than-he’s-used-to coffee maker on the kitchen counter.

It’s quiet, but not the empty kind.

The light above the stove is turned on illuminating the kitchen.

That was usually his final task of the night before going to bed. Flicking off the brighter overheads in exchange for the softer one that gave him just enough light to avoid crashing into things in the darkness if he woke up in the middle of the night and was on the hunt for something to eat or drink while still half-asleep.

Although it hits him now that he can’t remember the last time he’s turned it on himself.

It was something he’d noticed that you didn’t do at your own apartment when the two of you had first started sleeping together. But now if he thinks back on it, every glass of cool water out of the filtering pitcher you kept in the fridge and every bowl of late-night cereal he’s had that little light has been on to guide him into the kitchen while you slept peacefully in bed.

It’s a realization that lands squarely behind his ribcage.

Bradley kicks his boots off next to your sandals by the door and turns the lock back into place behind him. Normally, he’d take them up to be put away in their proper place, but for now he’s got other more important things on his mind.

He takes the stairs two at a time as soundlessly as he can, avoiding the step that sometimes pops. The first door on the left has been left slightly ajar, just wide enough for him to slip into.

there you are, his heart registers before his eyes do.

Tucked under the green comforter- with that one foot kicked out- on the wooden canopy bed he’d recently purchased is you.

He couldn’t fight back the smile on his face that the sight of you curled up there on his side of the bed, with your face pressed into his pillow, even if he wanted to.

Bradley still doesn’t know how he got to be so lucky that he gets to be the one to see you like this, at complete ease as you sleep, as relaxed in his bed as you are in your own. He’s grateful for every morning he gets to wake up with you and every night he gets to fall asleep with you in his arms.

It’s never been like this for him, not before you. It’s a good thing he’s already told you he loved you, otherwise he doesn’t think he could have been able to hold himself back from waking you up right here and now to tell you.

Quietly, he steps up the side of the bed, taking a moment to admire you looking soft and warm and like everything he could ever want. The few FaceTime calls the two of you had had over the course of the week couldn’t even begin to capture just how beautiful you were. Bradley leans down to brush a featherlight kiss against your temple and straightens back up. You let out a contented hmm, and he hopes you’re dreaming of him.

He’s never needed anything more than to be under those covers with you.

Bradley undresses quickly in the walk-in closet and strips down to his boxer briefs, leaving his khakis to decorate the floor until sometime later when the sun was back up in the sky. Realizing as he takes off his watch that in his rush to get here that he’d left his bag with all his other laundry by the door at your apartment. A grunt of exasperation escapes him, and he’s glad that you’re a deep sleeper and the fact he keeps his baseball bat in the garage. Especially since he’s the one that taught you how to power swing.

The only sound in the room is of your even breaths and his carpet-muffled footsteps as he pads across the room. He lifts up the covers on your side of them bed and slides into the cool sheets, the stiffness in his joints loosening at the contact, and scoots in closer until he can feel your warmth.

He’d been in San Diego for the better part of four hours now, but he hadn’t been truly home until about thirty seconds ago.

Bradley debates for a split-second whether or not to let you sleep or if he should wake you up so you’re not startled to find a 6’ 1” aviator back in bed with you. But he knows you well enough to make an educated guess. He murmurs your name, rubbing a hand gently up and down along your back, and presses his lips together when you let out a soft, sleepy sigh.

You jolt a little as you ease back into consciousness. “B-bradley?”

“It’s just me,” he hums in confirmation as he squeezes your hip, all sleep-warmed skin under his palm. He doesn’t miss the way you relax instantly against him at the sound of his voice, settling further back into him.

“You’re home early.” You reach back for him, your hand finding the base of his head, lightly scratching at his scalp as you weave your fingers through his hair.

“Mav either pulled some strings or took one for the team by staying another day, but we all jumped at the chance to get out of Le-snore early.” You let out a little snort at that.

“’re you hungry?” you offer sleepily, the words a bit slurred and strung together. “Do you want me to make you something?” Bradley is equal parts amused and endeared that you’re not even half way awake yet and wanting to look after him.

His sweet girl.

He presses an affectionate kiss on the back of your neck and wonders if you can feel his soft smile, the one that’s reserved for only you.

“Nah, I’m good,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, “I promise.”

He’d snagged a couple protein bars from the mess on base and had scarfed them down as he filled out his overdue flight logs. But also, there was no way he was getting out of this bed now that he was in it. Not for anything in the world.  

Bradley leans in close, letting his lips skim against your ear, “You know this could count as breaking and entering, kid. Always knew that good girl thing was just an act.”

You lightly tug on his hair. “I don’t think that would hold up in court of law seeing as you gave me a key and all,” you retort, you voice still low and raspy from sleep.

“I’m pretty sure I gave my best friend a key,” he drawls, teasingly, “Don’t remember giving my girlfriend one though.” He drops a kiss to your soft-cotton covered shoulder. The shirt you were wearing was one he’d completely forgotten about until you sent him that picture of you in bed sometime past 2am in the early days of when you’d started dating, before the two of you had sex for the first time. His name was printed on the back- right at the very top- along with all the other players on the Washington High Cardinals baseball team from the year they’d won the championship. “Think ‘m going to have to fix that.”

You shake your head amused into his pillow before looking at him from over your shoulder and turning to lean back into his chest. When your eyes meet, there’s nothing but fondness reflected in them. Yours is a face he’s known most of his life, he could read you as easily as any book, and it’s even more apparent just a few inches away from his just how happy you are to see him.

He slides a hand around the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek as he drinks you in. His eyes travel over your forehead, and along the curve of your cheekbones, and down the bridge of your nose, and lands on the dimples framing your smile.

thereyouarethereyouare

Bradley dips down to kiss you for the first time in a week. Your lips part easily, like you’ve been waiting for this too. There’s no rush. Your kiss is slow like honey off a spoon. Just as sweet as it’s meant to be savored. And there’s no doubt in his mind that this was always how it was supposed to be.

You and him.

Him and you.

Together.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he says, warmly.

“Hi, Bradley.” You tilt your head up for another kiss, one he has no intention withholding from you. “I missed you.”

It’s a new feeling for him, knowing he has someone to miss him when he is away. And having someone to miss in return. It’s been a long time since he’s had that in any real way that truly mattered. Bradley knows he’s due for a deployment soon, one that’ll take him from you- from this bed- for months. He’s already found the perfect thing to give you for when he leaves, something to show you how he’ll be thinking of you. But he doesn’t want to dwell on that inevitable reality.

For now, he just wants to share your warmth and focus on the feel of you pressed against him. Enjoying the luxury of getting to have this with you.

He just lets himself hold you the way you deserve to be held. He lets himself kiss you the way you deserve to be kissed. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved for as long as you’ll have him.

“I missed you too.” Whispering your name because he likes feel of it in his mouth.

“I think I was having a dream about you,” you murmur against his lips.

Bradley grins. “Yeah? Was it dirty?” You laugh in response, it’s his favorite sound. Happy. You make him so damn happy. He buries his face in the nook where your neck meets your shoulder and breathes you in. Lavender and cedar. Your favorite lotion to put on before bed, and something of his that he can’t put his finger on. “Mm, you smell good.”

“I took a shower before bed, used your body wash,” you tell him, running your hand along his arm. He senses you smile before he hears it. “And you smell like Jake.”

He groans and rubs the coarse hairs of his mustache against the soft skin of your neck. You giggle and try to squirm away from his prickly retaliation, but he’s got you basically pinned to the bed now. All your perfect curves against his firm angles.

“I can’t believe he’s still using a black ice tree air freshener like a damn sixteen-year-old,” Bradley grumbles. As if him and Seresin hadn’t spent enough quality time together over the week, now he was basically in bed with him and his girlfriend.

“At least you’ll know what to get him for his birthday,” you offer less than helpfully, playfully nudging his foot with yours.

Bradley chuckles and props himself up on an arm to gaze at you. He can feel the need for sleep settling over him, the long day and the longer week catching up with him that now he’s home and here with you. He can tell you’re drowsy too from the dewy way you’re blinking at him, and appreciative that you’re indulging him in this bit of pillow talk. In the quiet of his bedroom, he admits, “I went to your apartment first.”

You look almost bashful when you say, “I like these sheets better.” Both of you know that’s not your real answer for why you’re in his bed instead of yours.

He lifts an eye brow, meaningfully. “You have the same ones at your place.” Bradley knows because he made sure to check and buy the same kind for his own bed.

“Semantics,” you reply, breezily. Although he catches a hint of a pleased smile before you lean into trail a few kisses along the underside of his jaw. “Do you want your side of the bed back?” you ask.

“It’s our bed, sweet girl. You can sleep wherever you want,” Bradley says, “I’m good just as long as I can hold my girl.”

You thumb at the dimple of his chin, gazing up at him, “Have you gotten much sleep this week?”

Bradley just hums in response.

The softest of looks coast over your face. Understanding, sympathy, tenderness. It’s all there painted on your face from the little furrow between your eyebrows to the thoughtful search in your eyes as you read his face in return. He didn’t even say a word and you’ve got him figured out.

You tug on his arm and turn back over, taking him with you. Snuggling in so that your body is cradled closer to his, his chest all but pressed against your back. He slides his arm under your pillow and finds your other hand, threading his larger fingers between your own.

He situates your pillow beneath his head, sighing as he gets comfortable on the supportive mattress. He runs his palm over the familiar dip of your waist as you stretch and burrow in further, getting ready to go back to sleep. His fingertips find the edge of your cotton underwear and he follows it over your hip and along the side of your stomach, slipping one under the band to stroke at the soft skin near your hipbone.

It's the same spot where he’d find you butterflies if the two of you weren’t reversed from the way you usually fall asleep facing the other direction. Their location was a pinpoint in his mind, memorized from the moment he’d seen them that very first night together. He liked imagining he could feel the delicate lines of them under his fingertips as he drifted to sleep.

He hears the almost inaudible catch of your breath at his touch. “In the morning,” he promises.

You make a half-hearted noise of dissatisfaction, already well on your way to falling back asleep. He feels more than a little self-satisfied that he’s the one getting these reactions from you, that you want his touch just as much as he wants yours.

“Tease.” You nestle in closer, your ass brushing against his cock in a way that leaves no question it had been done on purpose.

“Menace,” he chuckles, lightly.

You hum, a pleased sound and reach for his wrist, removing temptation for the both of you and slide his hand beneath your shirt right to the very spot above your bellybutton where he normal finds its drifted to during the night on the mornings he wakes up with you in his arms.

The two of you fit together better than he ever could have possibly imagined.

“Hey, kid, what’re you doing tomorrow? I wanted to take you to breakfast.”

“To the place with the banana pancakes?”

Kisses the crown of your head, and he thinks he hears you sigh. “Wherever you want.”

“I could get away with a little hooky,” you yawn, “Maybe we could go to the beach too. Wanna spend the day with you.”

Bradley pulls you in closer, and closes his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I can’t wait.” It’s more of a sleepy mumble than anything else, but he’s already looking forward to waking up.

He listens as your breathing slowly evens out, knowing when you’ve fully drifted off. It didn’t take you long, the way it never seems to when he’s in bed beside you.

Maybe one day soon he’ll get to have you here with him every night. But until then, this is more than enough, he’s happy to fall asleep with his dream girl tucked on his arm.

Bradley lets himself imagine the day where you come and stay and it’s for good this time, because all of your clothes are in the closet and your mail gets delivered along with his.

And it won’t be just his favorite dream, it’ll be his reality.

I will never not be down bad for a smitten Bradley Bradshaw! Thank you to @yourlocalcringydaydreamer for sending the ask that inspired this soft fic!

Thank you for reading!

You can read more about these two or check out all of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted  @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange 

[versairic]

Paddock guests | MV1

In which you and your class visited Max at the track in Zandvoort.

warning : This is the second part of 'special guest' and you don't have to read the first part first, but it might make it easier for you because of the connections in this part. You can also find 'special guest' on my profile :)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

ALL EYES are on you and your class as you enter the paddock in a row of ducks.

Until now, it has never happened that countless six-year-olds in Red Bull merchandise and paddock passes around their necks have entered the paddock together with their teacher.

But that changes today. Having plucked up the courage a few days ago to save Max's number and thank the Dutchman for a great day in the lion class, you didn't expect the three-time world champion to invite the whole class into the paddock as a thank you.

"It's important that we all stay together. As you can see, the paddock is quite large and spacious, so we all have to stay very close together to get to the Red Bull Garage, okay? ", you look at your pupils one by one with a smile.

You can clearly see the beaming faces of your protégés and the anticipation of the day ahead.

Today is Friday, so there won't be too much happening at the track this weekend, so this is the perfect day for Max to show the six-year-olds where he works.

In a video message sent directly to the Lion class, he thanked them for the great day at school and invited all the students to his garage to take a look behind the scenes.

You're also looking forward to seeing everything up close, so you can hardly wait to walk over to Red Bull and marvel at everything up close.

"Then let's get going," you indicate to your charges with a smile.

As it is impossible to keep an eye on all the children alone in this spacious paddock, you are accompanied by a nice Red Bull employee who introduced himself as Mason a few minutes ago.

You're grateful to Mason not only for helping you keep the kids together, but also for guiding you through the paddock and getting you to your destination.

Because if you're honest, you wouldn't find this way on your own. The paddock already looks pretty big and expansive from the TV, but in real life it looks twice as big, so if you didn't have a clue, you'd be one hundred per cent lost.

Mason starts to run off in front, while the rows of two that the children have formed follow the Red Bull employee and you bring up the rear so as not to lose any children in the hustle and bustle.

Every now and then, a few employees or even drivers cross your path, who give you a big smile and greet and wave to your protégés in a friendly manner.

It doesn't take long before Mason comes to a halt in front of the Red Bull Hospitality and all the children gather in a semi-circle around Mason.

"We've reached our first destination. This is the Red Bull Hospitality. This is where we stay from time to time when Formula 1 is on a break..." While Mason begins to explain a little to the children, you start to take a few photos with your mobile phone to capture today's event not only for you, but also for the children.

"Max has another appointment, so it will be a while before he can show you all round. But I see you've all got rucksacks with you, which must contain your breakfast, right? " the Red Bull employee adds as you walk up the small ramp to the hospitality centre and shortly afterwards the sliding doors open to reveal a large room with countless tables and chairs.

A loud chorus of 'yes' answers Mason, who indicates to the children that they should find a place to have a snack to tide them over while Max has something to do.

You smile gratefully at Mason when the dark-haired man presses a coffee into your hand a few seconds later.

"The little ones are really adorable, " Mason enthuses as he sits down at a table opposite you.

Your students are sitting around you, talking excitedly and eating their breakfast.

" Yes, isn't it? " you smile and wrap your hands around the cup before taking a sip of the hot liquid. " It's really great of Max to make this possible for you. "

"Max is a really warm person, " Mason smiles and shortly afterwards starts to engage you in conversation, which you're really grateful for.

Because it's not just your class that's pretty excited and nervous about what's going to happen in the next few lessons. You are also really nervous and excited, but you try your best not to let it show.

—

"I hope the garage has room for you all," Mason turns to you and your class with a grin as he continues walking backwards.

You all sat in the hospitality centre for about an hour, where you ate breakfast in the back and then the children were allowed to ask Mason a few questions about the team and his duties.

Mason is part of the mechanic crew who look after the car before and after the sessions.

The children have listened attentively to his stories during the last lesson.

But now, the closer you get to the actual destination, you clearly realise how excited your charges actually are.

A smile plays around your lips as Mason starts to walk down the dark blue corridor towards the garage and begins to tell the children that Max and Sergio Perez always walk along this path to get to their cars.

A few seconds later, you finally reached your actual destination. The garage.

The six-year-olds fill the garage with amazement as they see the two blue cars for the first time.

A broad grin appears on your lips as you realise where you actually are. So far you've only ever seen this view from the sofa on your television and now you're actually standing here.

Apart from a few mechanics who have gathered at the front wing and seem to be making a few preparations, the garage is empty.

"As you can see, Max's car is on the left and Checo's car is on the right. Can anyone tell me what makes the two cars different? " Mason looks round with a smile, from which countless index fingers shoot up.

" Max' is faster! " Milan shouts formally after Mason takes his turn. Loud children's laughter from the class fills the garage.

"Milan..." you almost admonish the blond-haired man. Not because it's true, but because it makes you a little uncomfortable that Milan is more or less rubbing salt in the wound, because everyone knows that things aren't going as well for 'Checo' as they are for Max at the moment.

The Red Bull employee begins to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment and seems to be struggling with the words. However, he can't seem to think of a suitable answer, so he looks relieved when Max suddenly appears.

The children happily start shouting the Dutchman's name, who gives each child a high five and then gives you a friendly smile, which you return.

" I'm glad you all came! " Max begins as he stands in front of the children and Mason disappears from the centre of attention and goes back to work. "As you probably already know, you're now in the place where I spend a lot of time. How about we take a closer look at my car? "

With a wave of his hand, Max gestures for everyone to come a little closer so that he can show the children his car in more detail and answer a few questions.

Excited, everyone moves a little closer to the car.

"Make sure you don't get too close to the car, will you? You remember what I told you this morning, don't you? " you ask the group.

"Don't touch other people's things!" your class shouts back in chorus, causing a proud smile to spread across your lips and Max looks over at you.

His lips form a wordless 'thank you' before he crouches down to be a little more at eye level with the children and shortly afterwards he begins to explain everything about the car and answer questions.

—

" Thank you very much for your efforts, " you thank Max as the Dutchman comes over to you.

A few minutes ago, you stood a little apart in the box so that you weren't in the way but also didn't lose sight of your class.

"Always a pleasure," Max smiles as he leans against the wall next to you and you look over at your class and Checo.

During Max's detailed explanations of his car, Checo joins in later and now the Mexican takes over to explain the steering wheel to the children in detail.

Sergio sits on a folding chair with the steering wheel in his hand, while the class sits in a semicircle around him on the floor and listens attentively to his words.

" It's really not a matter of course that you invited us all here. That really wouldn't have been necessary," you begin. You are really grateful for what Max does for you and especially for your class.

"It's nice to see the little lions again. And so I also have a reason to see your great teacher again. " Max winks slightly at you, causing the warmth to start shooting up your cheek.

Embarrassed, you brush a strand of hair out of your face and then slowly raise your eyes to look at the Dutchman.

Max's blue eyes are fixed on your face as his lips curve into a smile.

" I mean that seriously, " he adds.

" U-uh... thank you?" you stammer, almost caught off guard. Max's words were so surprising that you didn't even come close to having a perfect answer.

But that 'Uhm, thank you' didn't even make it any better in your mind.

The Dutchman, however, seemed to take this quite calmly, as a grin appeared on his lips.

"I didn't think I would succeed in making you so embarrassed. " Max takes a step closer to you so that you can clearly smell his aftershave.

Without meaning to, warmth begins to gather in your body, causing a warm feeling to spread through your whole body.

"But you succeeded. " Your voice almost sounds like a whisper, so you're not sure whether Max has understood your words at all, as children's laughter can be heard in the background.

" Max! Come here, you have to take over again," Checo calls out just as the Dutchman opens his mouth and starts talking.

"We'll talk later, " Max says in your direction, before he runs over to Checo and, together with Checo, begins to explain the racing gear to the children and, shortly afterwards, one or two of the children put on Max's and Checo's helmets.

And while Max sinks back into his element and makes sure that the children have an unforgettable day, your thoughts are permanently with Max and his words, which you won't be able to get out of your head any time soon.

—

Countless new impressions and information and a completed first free practice session, which you and your class followed live, the day of your visit to the paddock at Zandvoort slowly comes to an end.

A satisfied but also exhausted smile is on your lips as you watch Max hug each child goodbye and have a few kind words for each of them.

You’ve been impressed all day today by how well the Dutchman has dealt with the children and how much time he has really taken for each of them, even though he has a tight schedule and is certainly quite exhausted.

It's sweet to see how some children wrap their arms tightly around the Dutchman and don't want to let him go.

Even for these children, he takes extra time to talk to them quietly and whisper a few words that you don't understand.

And then the Dutchman is suddenly standing in front of you, while all the children are already waiting with Mason at the exit of the paddock.

"Thanks again, Max. Not just for today but also for the visit to the class. That really meant a lot to us, especially the children," you thank the Dutchman again.

"I was happy to do that," he replies with a smile and pulls you into his strong arms to say goodbye, which takes you rather by surprise.

It takes you a few seconds to break out of your little stupor and carefully wrap your arms around his middle.

"I hope we meet again. You've got my number," he whispers in your ear as he hugs you a little closer.

"We will," you assure him.

A tingling sensation begins to awaken in your body and your whole body is slightly electrified.

But before you can really savour the feeling, the Dutchman has already pulled out of the embrace.

"Then I hope you won't say no to that. "

Confused, you look at Max, who pulls something out of the back pocket of his trousers and shortly afterwards presses another Paddock Pass into your hand.

You frown in confusion. The Paddock Pass in Max's hand looks exactly like the one you already have around your neck. What is he trying to say?

Max must clearly see your confusion, because the Dutchman begins to grin slightly before he starts to speak.

" I'd like to see you in the paddock for the next two days so that we can spend some more time together. But only if you want to, of course. "

He starts to scratch the back of his neck nervously while he waits for your answer.

" I'd love to! " you say quickly as you take off your paddock pass and hang it around your neck.

And if someone had told you back then that it was the beginning of a relationship, you certainly wouldn't have believed a word they said.

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫

pairing: general marcus acacius x fem!reader

summary: unsure of whether or not your husband is alive leading his army's invasion, the only method of tranquility is by reaching into your past memories as a necessary distraction.

warnings: MINORS DNI, wife!reader and husband!marcus, mentions of TW: miscarriages, (probably incorrect) roman history, mentions of TW: blood and death, making love, sweet nicknames (carissima/me - dearest, dulcissima/me - sweetest, meum cor - my heart, melculum - my little honey), marcus has a big dick, creampies, tender softness, probably ooc marcus ??

wc: 4.4k

notes: oh booyyyyyyy. so we all collectively agree that general marcus is scrum-diddly-umptious ?? all the pics, videos, and gifs dropping does not ease my obsession. so.. i turned my obsession into a work of art for all of you to read ^.^ idk squat about the roman times, but i did do my best to research !! divider from @saradika-graphics 🤍

main masterlist

follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

It seems like the days have been mixing in with each other the more time has passed. Unsure of which day started and which day ended, you lost track of time. It had been one month, maybe two at this point. The sun rose and set, the moon and stars following in tandem. It was almost like a dance. It was amusing, to say the least. It reminded you of your relationship with your husband. With the light color dress wraps and delicate gold jewelry you'd wear around your neck compared to his permanent scowl, it's clear to civilization who's the sun and who's the moon. But you both complement each other in more ways than one.

You're able to calm him down with a simple touch on his arm, causing his boisterous voice to quiet down and his heart to steady its pace. Marcus' presence looming behind you around others, everyone already knows how dangerous he can become if someone even looks at his wife the wrong way.

Now, without his presence and his voice and his touch, nothing feels real. Pacing around in the dining hall of your home, you rubbed your hands tenderly over your barely-there baby bump over your soft blue wrap dress that Marcus surprised you with the last time he had come home from a previous battle for more land. He had won, of course, because General Marcus Acacius never loses. The mere thought of him losing a battle led by him with his army in tow is one of your greatest fears as his wife.

Staying inside your home and wallowing in your fears was no good for you and your unborn child. You couldn't go through the stress of worrying after your husband and deal with another heartbreaking loss alone. The night that Marcus had come back, you had broken down in front of him, shakily telling him through your thick tears that you had lost your son.

"A son?" He had quietly asked you, his eyes wide and heartbreaking.

"The teller that settles by the river," you told him with a broken voice. "She had confirmed it with her readings."

You remember it clearly as day; the look on his face equivalent to that of a broken man. You had choked on your tears, begging for his forgiveness for not being more careful, for not being a dutiful mother that was supposed to protect their child. You had knelt down in front of him, grabbing his knees and pleading to him and the gods for forgiveness and punishment, your hands pressed together in a prayer.

"Carissima," he had whispered quietly to you, slowly getting down onto his knees to remove your tight hold on his dirtied pteruges. His hands, trembling and unsteady, tenderly hold your cheeks to look into your heartbroken eyes. "I shall never strike a hand upon you, need you deserve it or not. I shall never lay blame on something the gods have brutally stolen from us. Oh, my dearest wife." His last whisper had you gripping onto his arms and crying your heart out into his shoulder. He said nothing more, nothing else. On the ground that day, all he did was hold you, and that was more than what you needed.

Breaking out of that distressing memory, you busied yourself with around-the-house distractions. In your hands was a handmade wicker basket you had purchased at one of the markets. The owner was a sweet, older woman that knew of your reputation amongst the others. She always treated you with kindness and looked at you with excitement every time you came by and not fear. She also gifted you a handmade blanket sewn with intricate patterns of the moon and sun.

"I gift this to you as a thank you for your kindness," she had said, pushing the blanket further into your hands when you had protested. She lay a wrinkly finger against her lips and drooped her eye to a wink.

Stepping outside with the wicker basket in your arms, you traveled a short distance to a small pond with many bushes, trees, and delicate flowers all around. This was your happy place. And this was also where you and Marcus had made love for the first time so long ago. The tree, the rock, the patch of grass. All of it held a distinct memory of your first time. Thinking back to it brings a smile to your lips.

"Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to stop right now and I shall go back to where I rest and I will not pursue you any longer," Marcus had told you breathlessly against your jaw. He had you laid on the soft grass underneath the moon, the light shining against the pond in a way that makes the gentle movements look like glitter. Your dress was hiked up around your hips as he rested heavily between your trembling thighs, your hands squeezing on his strong biceps that flexed in response to your sizzling touch.

"Marcus," you sighed prettily in his ear, and it sounded like the sweetest song he has honor of ever hearing. "My need for you has not gone away. It will not go away unless you take me right here, under the moon and stars, until I'm singing for you in pleasure."

The look in his eyes was that of desperate hunger and wanton need. When he had slid himself into your cunt for the first time, all of your prayers to the gods have been finally answered. Marcus was made to be yours. And you were made to be his. Hushed moans and frantic thrusts, Marcus fucked like how others perceived himself – like a barbarian. Some women would disagree and find it appalling and dirty, but it was perfection. He wasn't scared to touch you. He touched you as though if he were to let go you would float away, for he would no longer be able to taste you on his tongue or feel your tight warmth wrapped around his thick cock.

A touch to your shoulder had you gasping and dropping the basket onto the ground. You spun around and laid a hand on your chest and one on your bump, staring at the poor maid that scared you accidentally.

"I deeply apologize for frightening you, miss," she stares at you with her hands up in defense as though she was staring at a frightening animal backed into a corner. "General Marcus has arrived and he asks for your presence in your bedroom."

"No, no, it's quite alright, dear. My head was in the clouds again," you offer her a gentle smile and a brief laugh, laying a hand lightly on her shoulder to ease her worries. "And Marcus, is he...?"

The young maid recognized your worry and shook her head as an answer to your unspoken question. You hand her the wicker basket of plucked fruits from the bushes and politely tell her to wash and ready them, and to bring them to your bedroom when the task is done. She nodded and hurried off immediately.

You carefully, but also hurriedly, made your way into your home. Nodding and giving polite smiles to the people inside, you walk up the spiral marble stairs. When you reached the top, there stood a statue of yourself sitting atop a stone with a statue of hour husband on his knees and his lips pressed to your knees. There were intricate details in the statue, like of Marcus' fingers gripping your thighs or the soft rolls of your body. Your husband preferred a large home such as this for his growing family. You preferred something quainter and more personal, but what your husband says, goes. You recognized his large, dirty footprints leading to your bedroom, another young maid already on her knees scrubbing the stains.

"Aureia, there's no need for that," you tut softly at the young girl, and she looks up at you with wide eyes. "Leave that alone for now, alright? As for this moment, will you please gather the others and bring pails of hot water for a bath?"

"Right away," she nodded and hurried off. It brings a smile to your face at how eager the young maids are to please. Unlike the other men and women that have maids in their homes, you treated yours like people. They respect you and in return, you respect them. Marcus used to disagree until he remembered how you grew up when it was just you and your widowed mother, along with the reputation of being poor. Realizing that you see yourself in these young maids, your husband made it a point to allow you to be in charge of them and do whatever you see fit. Having that much power can be overwhelming, only because of the fear of having your kind heart be taken advantage of. But those that work for and with you know to never cross you, for they'll have to deal with the consequences your husband has waiting for them.

When you entered your private bedroom, there he sat, still dressed from head to toe in his armor. He sits with his back facing the door, his sights focused on the large window that overlooks the garden which circles around the empty thermae. You slowly move around the bed and finally stand before him, essentially blocking his view of the window. Marcus doesn't look up at you just yet. So, you stay silent and let him do what he needs to, let him think what he needs to think.

His hands, still caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood, move up to your stomach. Your bump is within his line of sight. Both of his hands rest on either side, feeling the firmness and shape of the bump. You watch as his eyes shut and his jaw clenches. His face was also caked with dirt, grime, and dried blood. The ends of his hair are curled with sweat from the heat of his long journey back home to his family. Marcus says nothing when you stroke his jaw silently. Neither of you register the door opening and four maids coming in one by one to empty two pails each of hot water into the tub that sits in the corner of the room. They know better than to interrupt.

When the door shuts, Marcus moves to rest his head against your bump. His ear is pressed into your soft flesh through the dress adorning your body. He can faintly hear the thumping of your heart and that brings him back down to earth, back home to you. Your hands, warm and gentle, card through his messy, graying curls. Damp with dirt and sweat, you don't care. Feeling him right here, right now, was all that mattered.

"It's over," he finally speaks, his voice rough and low. His hands move down to find a home on your wide hips, fingers just barely digging into the shape. "The war is over. I made sure of it." And he leaves it at that.

Your eyes shut and you let out a sigh of mixed relief and heartache. You couldn't imagine what your husband had to go through, as a leader, to make sure that he and his army of men make it out alive. You couldn't imagine the number of bodies that are lying out there, hundreds of miles away, torn apart and bled out, mangled flesh and bone. You couldn't imagine your husband possibly being one of them. Bending down as best as you could, you tenderly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and kissed the back of his head. You briefly sniffed his hair and pulled back.

"Let's get you inside the bath, hm?" You whispered softly, hands lovingly scratching at his scruffy jaw as you pulled his head up to look into your eyes.

When he stands, you almost forgot how imposing he was. His height was a strong factor. The bloodied armor he wears makes him look much broader and more dangerous. The exhausted look on his face makes him look much more mean – evil, even. But he's neither of those things, at least not to you. He stands as still as a tree as you begin to unclip and pull off his armor one by one. From the thick leather chest plate bound with protective metal underneath, all the way down to the thick leather arm-wear covering his forearms. Unsheathing his sword from its belt, you unclip that from around his waist as well. Having done this a million times, it's muscle memory.

He stands before you, naked, dirty, and exhausted. You reach behind your neck and slowly untie your dress wrap. It pools at your feet, your naked body now on display for him to see after months apart. Marcus' eyes take in every detail. The delicacy of your collarbones, your perky breasts, the curve of your growing belly, the soft curls of your pubic hair, those thighs that Marcus loves being in between, all the way down to the dangling anklet he gifted you.

"Come on," you whisper softly and take his hand to lead him to the filled tub. Steam sits above the water and Marcus' aching muscles scream out to it.

He enters first, hissing at first from the heat but then moaning gruffly once he sinks further into the hot water. Almost immediately, his sore muscles begin to relax. He could fall asleep right this instant. He feels a gentle push on his shoulder. He scoots forward and allows you to enter behind him.

"What are you doing, dear wife?" He doesn't hear an answer to his question. He's about to turn his body, but then he feels your hands massaging his tender scalp and washing his dirty hair. His eyes shut almost instantly, and he groans huskily with parted lips.

You wanted to laugh at his reaction but decided against it. Marcus never had time to relax and wind down. He was always on his feet, always discussing the next steps of battle, always readying his army men with hardcore training. It pained you to see him like this, especially at a distance. He never wanted you around to witness his leadership. Not wanting to induce stress onto you early on in your pregnancy, not wanting a repeat of your last pregnancy, he had given you strict instructions to let him handle everything.

"Meum cor, you do so good with taking care of your husband," Marcus quietly tells him, his entire body shuddering when your nails tenderly scrape the sensitive parts of his scalp. "I know the other men are envious of the treatment I receive from such a divine woman."

"Mm, I know, my love," softly laughing at his goading. You reached over the side of the tub to grab a small wooden bowl. Using that to pour water onto his soapy curls, you gently tipped his head back and did just that. You kissed the side of his head and gently cleaned away the dirt and grime on his beautifully tan skin. You paid extra attention by lovingly kissing the scar on his right cheek.

For the next hour, you put all your focus into washing his body. No longer was he a filthy barbarian. No, he was now your clean, fresh smelling husband. His damp hair curled elegantly behind his ears and neck. You had maneuvered onto his lap to focus on his front. There were more prominent bruises on his chest and arms, as well as some cuts that have begun its healing process. You gave him a small pout, to which he tuts and lovingly cups your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"I could ride into the sun and still come back to you in one piece, meum cor," he tells you quietly, moving his face much closer and shifting you to sit comfortably on his lap. "No man, no sword, no army could ever strike me down and take me from you."

Holding onto his scruffy jaw and peering into those dark chocolate eyes of his, he looks at you with such tenderness that no stranger will ever witness. Your bump is resting against his own stomach, and he feels every breath you exhale. Heads lean closer, his aquiline nose resting on the side of yours, lips just a hair away. There's distant chatter outside in the gardens, the curtains swaying gently from the warm breeze coming through the open windows. The water in the tub is still warm and steaming, the clearness of it was now murky from the dirt you cleaned from his aching body. You have half a mind to drain the tub and call out for more pails of fresh hot water, but you're so comfortable and safe in the arms of your husband.

"Do you recall the night I took you underneath the stars?" Marcus asks you huskily, both hands gripping your hips, strong fingers digging into your plushy flesh. He forces your hips closer to his, thick thighs tensing underneath your own. "The way you begged me to keep going, even when it began to rain down upon us."

Your lips parted to elicit a soft gasp when you felt his hardness on your thigh, thickening and rising with each second that passed. You do remember that night like it was yesterday. The soft rain pattering on your naked, writhing bodies. Your nails had dug deep into his skin to keep him from moving away. You had cried out to the gods for more, more, more.

"I do believe I may have scars from those nails of yours," Marcus joked lightly against your jaw, pressing a kiss to the bone with his plush lips.

Giggling quietly in his ear, you held his head close to your chest as his kisses traveled south. "I do believe you're creating tales, carissime."

He hums disapprovingly, holding you tighter on his lap when you shift. The steam from the water made his skin feel sticky and warm. You tasted salt on your tongue when you kissed below his ear. It was intoxicating, to say the least. Tasting him, trailing your tongue all over his molten hot skin, licking over his scars and freckles. There was a quiet minute when you both looked into each other's eyes again. Marcus can see the light hasn't died. He can see the adoration you have for him in the way your pupils dilate, and breathing quicken. And you can feel the love Marcus has for you in the way his eyes get slightly wide as he takes in your features, most likely mapping out which ones he hopes your unborn child takes from the both of you.

"Take us to bed, meum cor," you beg him. No longer able to keep looking at your handsome husband and not do anything about it, you leave it all up to him.

Without another word, Marcus stands with a hoarse grunt. With one strong arm wrapped tight (but not too tight) around your waist and his other hand under your thigh to keep you up and against his body, he steps over the tub and makes his way over to the bed. Neither of you care if your wet bodies are soaking the sheets. As he lays you down and rests on top of you, nothing else matters at this moment.

"Melculum, you look like a goddess with the sunlight kissing your naked skin," he whispers to you, lowering his head to kiss at your breasts and collarbones. You gasped and arched your back, further pressing your breasts into his mouth, to which he sucks a sensitive nipple between those lips.

Marcus rests on his forearms on either side of your head with his big hands tenderly cupping the crown. Your feet teasingly trail up and down the backs of his thighs, and you feel his hardness twitch between your bodies. Whispering his name in a needy voice, he looks up at you and catches the look in your half-lidded eyes. The flush on your skin makes your skin glow. He would never disrespect his gods and goddesses, but Aphrodite does have a competition on her hands.

Feeling too eager, you take charge and yank his neck down to finally kiss him. After months of not feeling his body, hands, and lips on yours, you powered all your emotions in this kiss. It was messy and desperate and hard. Tongue, teeth, garbled whimpers and heavy breaths. Marcus suckled at your bottom lip, letting it snap back against your teeth to then suck and bite at your neck. Your hips were shifting to slot his hard cock between the silky lips of your wet cunt. Grinding up and down, the thick vein that rests on his hardness glides easily against your swelling clit.

"Marcus," you weep quietly in his ear. "Oh, my husband. I need you more than life itself. Oh, you're the bravest, strongest soldier known to man. You're so... powerful, so dangerous. You keep your family and your people safe, my love." Saying this all while you're grinding your sweet cunt up and down the length of his hardness has Marcus growing erratic by the second.

He looks down between your bodies. Your cunt lips open like the blooming petals of the sweetest flower. The soft dark curls of your pubic hair rubbing against his own. Your small belly bump that keeps your unborn child safe and sound. Marcus uses his thumb to guide himself inside your cunt, breathing shallowly when the warm tightness sucks him in, inch by inch. Your mouth falls open to let out quiet, needy moans.

"There we go, melculum," Marcus grunts lowly in your ear, lowering his hips further down into yours and his thick cock slides deeper inside your leaking hole. The heat, wetness, and tightness of your cunt has him spiraling already. The knot in the pit of his stomach further unraveling the deeper he gets. "You were made for me," he breathes deeply, the heat of his breath fanning over your sensitive neck.

When he starts fucking into you, he was mindful to not rest his entire weight on your belly. He repositioned himself in a way that had his back curving to drive his hips deeper, faster, and harder into your own. The action had you arching and gasping. Your soft breasts and feet bounced gently from the movements. Marcus lovingly strokes down your temples with his thumbs and kisses you hard once again. Your fingers curl into his hair, now drying and curling beautifully. He looks like a god. It makes you want to cry. But then, his cock starts punching against the one spot that makes you scream.

"Oh! Marcus!" You yelped, eyebrows furrowed and lifted up as your mouth fell open and moans started pouring out. "Right there! Right... there. Ri-ight the-ere!"

He slows his thrusts until he's grinding so deep and so slow. Your moans turned into whimpers. He was able to hear the sloppy noises of your cunt soaking around his hardness. He grins down at you, his dimple deepening when you twitch and writhe.

"So beautiful," he whispers against your jaw. "So ethereal underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock." Marcus sharply drives his cock into your cunt unexpectedly. You let out a long, wanton wail that has his grin widening. He does it again, and again, and again. It was driving you absolutely crazy.

Your slick is most likely dripping out of your hole and onto Marcus' balls which slap against you. You can practically feel the weight of them, so heavy and full of two months' worth of cum. He drags his cock in and out of you slowly now, allowing you to feel every vein and every inch. Your thighs spread wide for him, eager for more. He answered your silent pleas and fucked you at a quicker pace again.

"Wrap your arms around me, Marcus. Oh, please, please, please!" You sobbed quietly, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. He follows immediately. His strong arms wrap under your back and he rests some of his weight onto your front. Your thighs widen to accommodate his size, allowing his cock to nudge deeper in a way that steals your breath. "Just... like... that," you whimpered after each thrust Marcus gives.

He feels dizzy and overwhelmed in a good way. The smell of the homemade soap on your skin, the softness and warmth of your naked skin against his, your sweet moans like a pretty song in his ears, the slick tightness of your cunt sucking him in repeatedly. Feeling, smelling, and hearing all of these at once was enough to finally let him spill out his moans without holding back. His chest vibrates against your bare breasts with each grunt that passes his kissed-raw lips. The vibrations on your sensitive nipples tickled you erotically.

"You are intoxicating," he moans heavily against your sticky skin, his scruff scraping deliciously and his lips and teeth leaving little love bites. "Non possum satis de te." I cannot get enough of you.

With your eyes rolling back and your thighs trembling around his wide hips, you simply cannot control what your body does. Marcus catches you off guard by messily kissing you, his tongue intertwining with your own, tasting each other's saliva. The taste of him had you whining into his mouth. There was a faintness of wine on his tongue. Although you obviously couldn't drink while you bear his child, the lingering taste of it on your husband's tongue was enough to drive you wild. Your hands, originally placed on his shoulder blades, trail down to his tapered waist and finally cling onto his perky bottom. You squeeze the tender flesh and briefly dig your nails into the skin, feeling the muscles clench and unclench with every roll of his hips and cock driving into your cunt.

"Tu parum desperatus es, huh?" Marcus' voice sounded cocky and the grin on his face didn't help. You're a desperate little thing, huh?

One of the things that made your husband a respected leader was his arrogance was never wrongfully directed. He loved to gloat, about anything and everything. But when it came to you, his wife, his ego inflates to the point of popping.

That's when you felt it. The coil in the pit of your stomach gets tighter and tighter, forcing your gooey walls to twitch around Marcus' thickness. He moans lowly at the feeling of it. He hooks one of your thighs over his arm, bracing your knee into your chest to fuck you deeply. The position change had you shuddering, more slick leaking out and staining the sheets below your bodies.

"I'm... I'm... fuuuck!" With one final cry out to the gods, you scratched down Marcus' skin and braced yourself for impact.

Your orgasm washed over you like one of the strongest ocean waves known to man. Your body wouldn't stop twitching and writhing underneath his massive body. The squeezing tightness of your cunt wouldn't let your husband fuck you any longer. He drops down and lets out a final rough grunt before spilling inside of you. He has a entire body shiver as his cock twitches repeatedly, his thick cum spilling out every few seconds. It finally stopped after a whole minute; yes, you were counting. The tickle of his cum hitting you deep inside had you giggling drowsily.

"You should be thanking your husband for giving you a well-needed release, not laughing at him," he hums against your skin, the vibrations of his voice and bristles of his scruff tickling you further, causing you to laugh louder. He feels your belly jumping from your shaking body and he can't help but to smile.

Being in the arms of his wife after a long journey of war and death, there really is no place like home.

[arixella]

Seeing Zoro after the 2 year timeskip

Pairing: Zoro x female reader Contains: fluff, angst if you squint Wc: 635 A/n: I think im going to start doing angst stuff, give me some suggestions if any!

The bustling energy of the Sabaody Archipelago hummed around you, but your focus was elsewhere. Standing by the Thousand Sunny, you fiddled nervously with the hem of your shirt, your heart pounding in your chest. Two years had passed—two years of waiting, wondering, and hoping for this moment.

“Do you think he’s changed much?” you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The Straw Hats had begun to trickle back, each one looking stronger, sharper, and more confident than ever. But it was him—Zoro—that you were waiting for. The swordsman who had stolen your heart with his unwavering determination and his rare, but genuine moments of tenderness.

And then, you saw him.

Zoro strode toward the ship with an effortless confidence, his green hair catching the sunlight. He looked... different. Broader shoulders, sharper features, and a new scar slashing across his left eye. But beneath the physical changes, he was still undeniably him.

Your heart skipped a beat as his gaze landed on you. His one visible eye softened slightly, the corner of his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

“Oi,” he called out, his deep voice sending a wave of warmth through you.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “Zoro!”

Without thinking, you ran toward him, the weight of two years of separation driving your feet forward. He stopped in his tracks, clearly startled by your sudden movement, but before he could react, you threw your arms around him.

For a moment, he stiffened, his body going rigid under your touch. But then, he let out a soft grunt, his arms wrapping around you in return.

“You’re late,” you teased, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Tch. Got lost,” he muttered, but there was a playful lilt to his tone that made you laugh.

Stepping back slightly, you looked up at him, your hands still resting on his shoulders. “You look good,” you said, your voice softer now.

He shrugged, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Liar. I’ve been a mess without you.”

Zoro’s smirk faded, replaced by something gentler. His hand rose to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. “You waited for me.”

“Of course I did,” you said, your voice unwavering. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

He held your gaze for a long moment, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he muttered, “I thought about you. A lot.”

Your breath hitched, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. “Zoro...”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbled, looking away, but the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and full of relief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re annoying,” he shot back, though there was no bite to his words.

As the rest of the crew began to gather, Zoro placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the ship. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes. He was here, he was safe, and for now, that was all that mattered.

“Next time, don’t let two years pass before we see each other again,” you said, glancing up at him.

He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor returning. “Next time, try to keep up.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was lighter than it had been in years. Zoro was back, and with him came the promise of countless adventures—and moments—yet to come.

♡♡♡

[warblogs17282]

I'm not done talking about how stupid of a take that 'Stolas is selfish because he chose Blitz over Octavia' is.

But this time, I want to talk about the implications that Blitz being executed has.

Let's start with the I.M.P crew, Loona loses her loving father, who she very clearly cares a lot for, Moxxie and Millie lose their best friend and their jobs at the same time, as the asmodean crystal is registered in specifically Blitz's name, meaning that Blitz dying means the human killing business dies with it, because they have no other reliable options for getting to the living world. Fizzarolli loses his best friend as well that he only recently got back into his life.

Plus, Blitz being executed would just send Satan's message loud and clear to all of imp-kind, which basically amounted to 'We'll kill you if you step out of line. We'll kill you if you even attempt to rise above your station we forced upon you. We'll kill you if you ever dare to challenge our power and authority. We'll kill you if you aren't our little obedient puppets.'

Stolas knows that Blitz is a father, Stolas knows that the Asmodean Crystal is registered in Blitz's name, and if chose to let Blitz die, he'd have to live with the fact that his choice caused so much suffering and pain to others, including to other people Stolas knows Blitz cares about deeply, showing that the stakes have always been much higher than just 'Blitz vs Octavia', even for Stolas.

Stolas went into that trial fully expecting to be killed, Stolas went into that trial assuming that Blitz would eventually be okay after his death, to allow Blitz to keep his found family and keep being able to provide for himself and others with I.M.P, to allow Blitz to keep making that name for himself.

You might be thinking at this point, 'but wait, then why did Stolas mention his daughter after he lost his powers and such then?', and I have the answer to that question right here.

Again, Stolas went into that trial fully expecting to be executed, and in s1 e2, during that song Stolas sang to Octavia as a kid, Stolas says "When I'm gone, you'll be okay…", which is quite literally saying that Octavia will be okay, even in the event of Stolas' death, which I'm pretty confident in saying that Stolas genuinely believes in this. I just don't think that Stolas factored in Stella and Andrealphus being abusive and manipulative towards Octavia specifically, which I believe perfectly explains why Stolas only mentioned Octavia after he got his actual punishment.

Plus, Stolas knew that Octavia would inherit everything of his in the case of his own death, because he literally ensured that everything and I mean everything would pass to Octavia, as Andrealphus bluntly points in s2 e4, alongside giving Octavia the chance to experience happiness, to be able to choose happiness, even when he's dead.

Finally, I shouldn't even need to say this but,

1: We all know that Stolas would literally sacrifice everything for Octavia, he literally was sacrificing his own happiness for so many years so that Octavia could live a 'normal life'.

2: Stolas had to make a split-second decision there, he had zero time to think anything over, plus Octavia wasn't anywhere close to being in mortal danger, but Blitz was.

In conclusion, if you all want to insist on making this thing a trolley problem, then I beg of you, remember the problem is nowhere near purely 'Blitz vs Octavia' for all of the reasons I've brought up in this post, and also remember that it's Andrealphus and Stella who tied them down on the tracks to begin with.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Green | Part 3

What were you thinking?

Tags/Warnings: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, Single Dad!AU, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, angst

Length: ~3k words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re busy thinking about what to buy for dinner later, when suddenly, you feel a small hand tug on the hem of your jacket.

One look down, and you spot the by now familiar face of Jungkook’s little daughter, ears all folded downwards, eyes glossy with fear, and you instantly seem to snap right into a protective mindset, squatting down to her level. “What’re you doing here all by yourself?” You ask kindly, a bit surprised that she freely and almost eagerly clings to you, walking closer to have as much physical contact as possible- most likely to soothe herself. “Where’s dad, hm?” You ask further, and Minji just shakes her head, moving one of her hands to pick at her bottom lip. She then decides that you’re now her best bet, as she clings to you, making you think. “you wanna go sit in the cart?” You ask her, and she looks, before she shakes her head.

Well, you’ve not worked as a daycare worker for nothing.

So you pick her up, careful to make sure she’s securely placed against your hip, before you take out your phone to dial Jungkook’s number- just for it to not go through, signal too bad within the large store. “Let’s see..” you mumble, checking your surroundings before you move to walk closer to the exit, signal returning a little as you try again. Minji has calmed down by now, which surprises you- her attention now completely caught by your ear that’s closest to her, though she decides against reaching out for it, instead inspecting your necklace.

“I’m sorry, it’s not very good timing-“ Jungkook’s voice comes out of your phone’s speaker, panic clear in his tone as his daughter’s ears instantly move up and towards the phone in interest.

“I think I’ve got what you’re looking for.” You say, adjusting her a little as she giggles, visibly having relaxed now. “I’ll be waiting near the exit. I’m next to the ice cream section.” You say, and he hurries out a response, before he hangs up.

“I lost Sam.” Minji tells you quietly, looking for your reaction, as you watch her as well. You’ve not interacted much yet, but you’re honestly excited that she’s warming up.

“Sam?” You ask, and she nods.

“He.. wears like.. pants.” She explains. “that go like this..” she motions over her shoulders- she’s probably talking about overalls. “He’s a frog.”

Oh. She’s probably talking about a stuffed toy.

“Maybe we can look for him later. Is that why you got lost?” You ask, and she nods.

“Dad dropped him.” She explains. “now he’s alone.”

“I’ll track him down, no worries. Did you lose him inside the store here?” You ask her, and she nods. “You remember where?”

“There was big pots.” She explains. Jars, maybe? You’ve got an idea where she might have lost the soft toy. But before you can think about it much more, Jungkook’s boots can be heard, as he jogs towards you with his daughter in your arms. Minji doesn’t seem to see the severity of the situation at all- happily waving towards him, as if she didn’t just give him a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ, thank God you found her. Minji!” He scolds, and you want to tell him to calm down first before lecturing her- but you’re not in any position to do so, rather leaning down to set her onto her feet. But the sight of her dad all upset makes her shake her head, eagerly clinging to you, trying to climb back onto your arms by pulling on your jacket as best as she can. “you can’t run off like that!” He continues, while his daughter begins to cry into your chest, hiding away in shame. You share a look with him and he sighs, clearly getting your message as he calms down, letting his adrenaline slowly pass.

“Let’s go find Sam now, hm?” You ask her, wiping her cheeks as she nods, before she looks over her shoulder at Jungkook, who seems confused. “Her stuffed toy. She said she dropped it somewhere in the store-”

“No, dad dropped him!” She whines towards you, and you laugh, nodding.

“-YOU dropped him, and now we’re gonna go find him.” You say, getting up to put her in your shopping cart, having her sit down instantly. Jungkook follows quietly, still slowly working on relaxing again, while you look through all the different areas of the store, always on the lookout for something on the floor maybe. But there’s no sight of it- either someone has already picked it up, or it got kicked beneath the large shelves somewhere.

Jungkook is getting ready to call it quits, when you suddenly move away from pushing the cart, looking under one of the larger display shelves, something poking out there- and surely enough, while incredibly dusty, that seems to match the description the little girl had given earlier. “Hm, I think he needs a bath once you all go home though.” You laugh, dusting the poor toy off before you give it to Jungkook.

Minji reaches for it, but you carefully pull her hands back. “Sam is a little dirty right now. I’m sure you can have him back after he had a good scrub at home though.” You reassure her, and she nods, eagerly watching where Jungkook puts the toy now, visibly suspicious of her father now that he already lost her little friend once before.

Once the little runaway is back in the car and safely buckled into her seat, Jungkook sighs, door closed. “Thank you. I’m sorry I got so riled up-” He starts, but you shake your head.

“It’s understandable. I didn’t.. Want to overstep any boundaries by telling you what to do- and at the end of the day, it’s not my place to speak against how you act towards her.” You explain, and he shakes his head.

“If this is supposed to work, we’ll have to work together.” Jungkook disagrees. “I do agree that.. We should keep our steps slow and steady, but she’s going to be just as big of a part in your life as she is in mine, if we want this to work.” He offers, and you nod.

“She was.. Really touchy.” You say. “I was a bit overwhelmed.” You admit to him, and he laughs.

“It’s a good thing though?” He says. “You’re just too charming to resist. Seems like I’ll have to look out for potential competition.” The bunny hybrid laughs. “I might be able to handle my daughter falling for you, but that’s where I draw the line.” He playfully threatens, and you laugh along, giving him a kiss to say goodbye.

But as you walk back to your car, Jungkook calls out to you again, a hand waving you closer as he opens the door to where his daughter is sitting. “What’s wrong?” You ask, stepping closer-

“You need to say goodbye to me too!” Minji says, with the most adorable pout towards you, little arms crossed, before she reaches for you.

And of course, you take that chance to hug her.

You’d be a fool not to.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

His apartment looks pretty nice, now that you’re seeing it all in daylight- and without the burdon of believing that you’re ruining a family.

According to Jungkook, Minji is currently staying with Jimin again- to give him a day off and offer him some time to spend with you, able to put his whole focus on you. However, you notice that he’s awfully.. Uneasy almost. As if there’s something on his mind still.

“Are you worried about Minji?” You ask, as he sits down on the couch next to you, phone placed on the coffee table. His face shows that he’s caught off guard- and so you elaborate. “You just seem a little distracted.” You smile, encouraging him to talk about whatever is troubling him- and he sighs, before he breaks eye contact with you.

“It’s Minji’s mother.” He admits, and at that you become a bit less relaxed as well. “She’s not-..” He sighs, turning towards you to hold your hands. “I don’t think she’s interested in me particularly, but even if she was, trust me-” He presses, “-my feelings for her have long died. Or rather yet, given to someone else who will take way better care of them.” He tells you.

“Bold claim.” You try and ease the air, with only minimal sucess however. “But, if it’s not you- what does she want then?” You ask.

“She wants to.. See Minji.” He explains. “I’m not sure why- but I’ve got no right to tell her no, you know?” He tells you, and you nod. After all, she’s still her mother, and has every right to see her daughter.

Though it does make you uneasy. What if she was to show Jungkook how she’s overcome whatever might’ve made her so upset with her own child years ago? What if he realizes that he can indeed have this happy little family he was hoping for when he got with her from the start? He might not feel it now, but surely, a connection between parents must run deep.

“I mean.. Minji deserves to know her mother.” You agree, trying hard not to let the way Jungkook’s ears droop and face falls at the second you slip your hands out of his get to you. You feel terribly selfish in this moment- you're not his daughter’s mother, nor will you ever be. Of course you had fallen into the trap of hope for just a second, but at the end of it all, Jungkook will most likely be better off with a prey hybrid, a bunny just like him who can make the little girl feel more comfortable.

What were you even thinking? The second she’d go to school, she’d be the talk of the school with her weird, scary predator-hybrid mother.

“Hey- I promise you this won’t change at all how I feel about you.” He tries to reassure you, and you can feel your heart crack a little at the softness of his tone. “We don’t even know how it’ll go. And Minji already likes you a lot.” He says.

“Jungkook..” You start, but he shakes his head, hands on your cheeks now to make you look at him. There’s a certain sense of determination in his eyes- but you can’t help but feel like this confidence in this whole situation and its future is terribly one-sided.

“No, listen to me.” He urges. “Give it time. Trust me. Let it all just.. Grow at it’s own pace. I already know that what I feel for you is genuine love, and I hope that you can develop feelings like that towards me too.” Jungkook tries to soothe your worries. “And Minji will love you too. Just be patient, okay?” He requests, and you nod, though he can see from the avoidance of eye contact and the way your ears are still turned downwards, that it’s not quite getting to you yet.

So all he can do in this moment is kiss you, and hope that at least for a little while, he can make you believe.

Even if he himself, has his own doubts, deep down.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Its quite funny how things can suddenly change.

One second it feels like you’re living in a dream- everything around you appearing to fall right into place, like the world has decided to grant you your happiness and biggest wishes as a reward for staying strong for such a long time. And then, all of a sudden, the floor is ripped from underneath you, leaving you with no ground to stand on, destined to drown in both uncertainty and confusion.

You shouldn’t feel this upset. Yet everytime your sketches of the little frog family stare back at you, it feels like they’re mocking you, and no longer representing wishful thinking of a younger version of you.

You feel out of place. But have you ever been a part of that space you now feel exiled out of in the first place? Most likely not, now that you really think about it. If anything, you’d been a visitor. A mere spectator, watching from the sidelines, never invited to step any closer than the boundaries set. And the worst thing about it all is, that Jungkook was wrong. You don’t have to develop any feelings for him-

You already have, knowing that it would be a waste.

When Jungkook calls, you’re sure you know the reason already. He probably wants to know what he did wrong, what he can do to fix it, and you won’t be able to give him an answer to that, because you honestly don’t know if this should be fixed at all. Maybe its for the best. Just imagine. His former partner might’ve developed a longing to her biological child now, and once she gets closer to her, she’ll get closer to him as well. Old feelings might be reignited, past memories filling up hearts until you’re long pushed out of his heart, no longer needed.

What were you thinking?

You decide to accept his call, realizing that you can’t avoid him forever- and the moment you do so, his voice can be heard over the speaker, another one in the background you recognize must be his daughter. Is her mother there already?

“I know what you’re doing, you know?” He says, and you feel oddly put on the spot. Yes, you’ve been ignoring him for days by now, and yes, that’s probably very petty behavior- but you can’t help it. You don’t want to stand in between them, and quite honestly, you also don’t want to force him to choose one or the other in the worst case scenario.

“...well, that’s good then.” You try and shrug it off- but he sighs.

“Not really, no.” He denies, before you can hear Minji say something- though its too quiet to really make out. “Yeah, dad’s talking to her right now.” He answers, and you dread whats possibly about to happen. “Sure, come here- there. Now you can talk.” He starts, before you can hear her more clearly.

“Are you angry at me?” She asks, and your heart breaks at the prospect of her thinking that you might be upset at her- because you’re not. You’re not even upset at Jungkook, or any of it. You’re upset with yourself, if anything.

“No, of course not.” You answer because of that, trying hard not to get emotional. “I’m just.. Busy.” You attempt to justify yourself, hoping that that might be enough for the little girl to let go of it. But she doesn’t.

“Are you angry at dad?” She asks now, and you sigh, before you deny that as well.

“No, I’m not angry at your dad either.” You tell her. “I’m just.. A little upset with myself. But you don’t have to worry about that.” You attempt to reassure her.

“Dad can make us pancakes!” She suddenly chirps up. “With ‘nanas. He makes them when I’m sad.” She explains her reasoning as to why he should cook you food of all things, and you cant help but feel the way her innocent actions and thoughts seem to get to you. “Can you do that?” She asks away from the phone, and you assume she’s most likely looking at her father.

“I can, but I don’t know if that would make her happy.” Jungkook answers. “Sometimes people just want to be alone, Minji.” he explains to her, and its quiet for a moment, before she speaks again.

“But in the book-” She starts, collecting her thoughts while she speaks. “-in the book, when the mama-frog was sad, the dad-frog and baby-frog made her a cake together. And then she was happy again.” She recites what she must’ve pieced together from looking at the most recent book’s pictures. It’s not quite accurate to the story written- but the message has clearly been conveyed, despite her inability to read.

It’s not about how much you can offer another person- its the act of even just trying to give what you can that counts the most, even if its just silent comfort, or a cake made with leftover ingredients you found.

“Minji-” Jungkook starts, but you cut him off, unsure where you take the bravery- or stupidity, depending on the viewpoint- from.

“Lets bake a cake then.” You say, before you can back out again. “All of us, together.” You propose, and from the sounds of it, the little girl is more than on board with the idea-

Though it’s Jungkook’s voice that catches you most, as he speaks to you in a tone thats both warm, and holds so much more than just gratitude for a moment. Probably because he realizes that this is more than just a simple step towards the two of them- it's your war of telling him that you want to try this, even if it fails.

So his voice is soft, as he speaks.

“Thank you.”

[bad268]

heyy, i was wondering if u could do a kimi fic even tho u r getting unnecessary backlash for it ( sorry babes ) maybe with an italian reader that reacts badly to kimi getting into a f2 crash bc a family memeber passed from a car accident and after hes i nthe hospital the ready gets clingy with him?

I'm Not Going Anywhere (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Hubert! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I changed it to French, hope you don't mind <3)

Warnings: Imola crash, heavy mentions of Belgium 2019 (Hubert reader i mean-)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1887

Summary: Kimi's crash brings the reader back to the darkest time of their life

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/kimi.4ever on Insta from 7/25/2024)

You had finally let Kimi convince you to come to one of his races. It was one of his home races, Imola specifically, and you had never gone to a race with him. You had some deeply buried trauma with races, so you were more comfortable supporting from afar. Well, when Kimi came up to you and practically begged you to join him, you couldn’t say no. The weekend was fine. You and Kimi were doing track walks, you got to sit in his car, you got to meet some of the grid, and it all helped to ease your nerves. George and Carmen were amazing, it was fun catching up with Ollie on track, and all was well.

Qualifying went well, with Kimi ending up in the top 10, and the race was going to be a piece of cake, he said. Why was it a piece of cake? Because it was projected to rain. Why would this make it a piece of cake? Oh, because Kimi was more comfortable with driving on the wet track. You knew this as he always took you on late-night drives whenever it rained. It was just more calming to him, so you took his word as you stood beside Toto in the Mercedes garage.

Then, it was like everything was in slow motion. One second, you were listening to Toto praising Kimi’s skills, but the next, everything was silent. You had looked over at Mick as he tapped your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw a silver car lose control. Your ears were ringing, and you couldn't focus on anything. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in Belgium 2019. The worst day of your life, the day you tried your hardest to forget, the day you lost your older brother, Anthoine. The flashbacks you tried so hard to bury were coming back in full force.

You didn’t register your legs giving out, but you felt someone’s arms wrap around you. Was it Fred? Mick? Carmen? Toto? Susie? You don’t know. The view of Kimi’s Mercedes hitting the wall replayed over and over and over again in your head. You couldn’t feel anything, and it was just like back then. Your brain was glitching, mixing up the two accidents. With that, your anxiety ran wild.

Your breathing became unsteady, you felt your heart beating at your fingertips, and your hands and forehead became clammy. You felt like you were going to throw up or pass out as you brought a shaking hand up to your chest. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing you could do to save Kimi and nothing you could say to help the situation. You were helpless.

You vaguely remembered someone lifting you to stand and help you into Kimi’s driver’s room, but you couldn’t recall who. You felt like you had no control over your body. It was almost like you were watching everything from the outside. It was the same as Belgium 2019, and there was nothing you could do.

You briefly registered a blob of someone kneeling before you. They grabbed your hands and ran their hands across your knuckles. Then, up your forearms to your shoulders. They drew shape around your legs and shoulders, coaxing you back into your body. You blinked rapidly as they did so, and after a few moments, you felt like the bricks on your chest lessened. You saw Mick kneeling in front of you. You let out a huge breath as you collapsed into his chest. 

Everything was still a little hazy, but you were able to semi-follow along with what Mick was explaining. Something something breaks failed. Something hospital. Something something get in there. Mick helped you into the back of an ambulance, helping you sit next to Kimi before he said something to the medics. 

No one looked at you twice as you reached out to grab Kimi’s hand, but you stopped in the air just before you could. If this was it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it together if you held his hand. Your mind still replayed the ambulance ride with Anthoine, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu as you looked at Kimi.

He was unconscious, but he looked peaceful. Then again, so did Anthoine. You dropped your head for the entire ride, not wanting to face what you believed to be inevitable.

When you arrived at the hospital, a nurse directed you to a waiting room while they attended to Kimi, giving you the chance to come back to the present on your own. You clenched your fists a few times and walked around the room. You just couldn’t sit still. It felt like hours, and maybe it was until a nurse came in to update you on Kimi’s condition. Part of you had convinced yourself that he was gone, but that changed when the nurse walked in with a comforting smile.

“He’s alright,” She said as she led you through the halls to his room, “He’s a little out of it, but he should be just fine. He hit the wall pretty hard, so he has a concussion and broke his wrist. He should be back in the car in a few weeks, depending on his progress.”

“He’s alive?” You asked hopefully as your voice cracked. “Will he be okay?”

“We’re projecting a full recovery,” She comforted as you threw your arms around her and cried. The biggest weight was lifted off your shoulders after hearing this situation was different from before. Different from Anthoine. You still had Kimi, and that’s what you needed to focus on. You finally regained your senses before pulling back and wrapping your arms around yourself with a sheepish smile. “I can take you back to see him now.”

With a nod, you followed behind her silently through the halls. There was nothing you could think to say at that moment, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone you walked passed. Eventually, you both got into the lift, and she pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“Just so you know, he was asking for you,” She added just before stepping off the lift and walking towards a room to the right. It was the first door, but before she could open the door, you gently grabbed her wrist.

“What do you mean? I thought he was unconscious since the crash?” You questioned, dropping her wrist when she turned to you. 

“He woke up momentarily when we were transporting him to get a CT scan,” She replied quietly. “He just whispered your name a couple of times and asked us to tell you he was alright, but he went back under almost immediately. It was very helpful actually because it showed us that he still had some memory, so we didn’t need to worry too much about amnesia. Here, head in, and I’ll send someone by to get you dinner.”

You nodded in response as she continued walking down the corridor, but you took a deep breath before walking into the room. It was just as bland as you remembered- no. You were not thinking like that. He’s fine! The nurse said so herself! 

There was no color, no sounds other than the heartbeat monitor, and no movement. You would change that whenever he woke up, or you would text someone to bring flowers or something. You pulled the chair closer to his bed. He didn’t look bad for someone who just got in a life-threatening crash. He had some bruises around his temple, his left arm was wrapped, and you could see some bandages around his chest. Honestly, you were scared to touch him. 

You finally got the courage to link your pinky with his. It was minimal contact, but it made you feel so much better. It also accidentally opened the floodgates. You barely registered the tears that fell from your eyes as your eyes zoned in on his hand. You analyzed the amount of wires that came out of it, the slight bruises on his wrist and fingers, and you noticed how bare his wrist was. He always had a watch or fan bracelets on, and seeing neither didn’t help the onset of tears. 

You pulled one of your charm bracelets off and gently slid it on over the wires. It was one he made for you, saying “Tesoro” with a (color) heart. You made him an identical one with a red heart, but it was with the rest of his things back at the track. Just seeing one semblance of normalcy helped calm your nerves as you fiddled with the bracelet. Eventually, the day caught up to you, and you laid your head next to Kimi’s hand. You briefly looked up at him before exhaustion hit you full force.

It felt like you were asleep for hours, and maybe you were. You felt something gently running through your hair, across your cheekbones, down your arm, and eventually stopping at your hand. You registered that it was someone’s hand, and when you finally connected the dots, your eyes snapped open to see Kimi’s half-lidded eyes looking back at you.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you, Tesoro (sweetheart)?” His groggy voice asked quietly as his hand moved back up to cup your cheek. He gently wiped away the stray tears that had collected on your lashline as you struggled to form words. “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk later. All you need to know is I’m okay, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can I lay with you?” It came out before you registered it. Was it against hospital policy? Could be, but it didn’t stop Kimi from shifting over in the bed to make space for you. It also didn’t stop you from immediately climbing on next to him, being careful of the wires and injuries he had. You gently laid your head on his chest and wrapped an arm loosely around his stomach before looking up at him, “Is this okay?”

“If you’re comfortable, it’s perfect,” He replied in a soft tone with a smile as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He adjusted his arm around you so the wires hung off the side of the bed, and he could still hold you. “Anything to make you feel better.”

“You just got in the accident, not me,” You chuckled halfheartedly. “I should be working around what you’re comfortable with.”

“You are,” He pointed out, “I’m comfortable when you’re comfortable. And it’s not like you're pulling on my IV or anything. We’re both comfy now, so why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”

“What about you?” You asked sleepily. The now-comfortable position made it a lot harder to stay awake, especially now that you were able to talk to Kimi and give yourself peace of mind.

“They should be in here shortly to check in,” Kimi answered before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep. I feel like it was a hard day for you. I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry, Tesoro.”

“Ti amo, Tesoro (I love you, sweetheart),” You whispered against Kimi’s lips as you placed one last kiss before falling asleep.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

What about the moment Vox realizes he's head over heels in love with the reader? What made him fall for them, too? I'm such a sucker for moments like that. 😫

Short little drabble from bed! This is pre-hotel! (God, we need more visuals of him. I crave more gif options)

Unread Notification [Vox x Reader]

It snuck up on him.

Vox liked to think he was a self-aware guy. He knew his temper was easily triggered, and he spent years crafting charisma and charm to compensate. He knew he overworked, and though he'd never admit it out loud, he knew his weaknesses. So there was no reason his feelings for you should have caught him off guard.

Vox had a type. Or at least, he thought he did. He was attracted to power. To cutting edge personalities full of ambition. He thought he loved the rush of excitement that came with the more cutthroat personalities, even though more often than not, the repercussions of playing with fire was getting burned.

It was after getting burned once again by the careless hands of Valentino that Vox met you. The two of you crossed paths at a club where Valentino had dragged Vox in the name of blowing off some steam. Vox didn't feel up to the loud and busy scene, but he'd been desperate for Valentino's affection and was hoping his needs would finally be satiated. He should have known better. Because of fucking course Angel Dust had to be there.

It would matter if Vox just cut his losses and went home to angrily jerk off, but it didn't matter if he stayed. He'd never hear the end of it from Valentino if he left. The moth would just complain about Vox being needy. It had happened before.

So Vox was stuck sitting at a bar in a club that he didn't even want to be at in the first place while Valentino doted on his favorite collared pet. When Vox noticed you sitting beside him at the bar, watching Valentino and Angel Dust with similar disdain to his own.

At first, he thought you were just some random fangirl, but he quickly learned you had actually shown up because Angel had asked for a night on the town to recover from a porn shoot. You clearly weren't a fan of how things had developed, but the memory of how poorly things went the last time you tried to intervine in his addiction to Valentino's poison was fresh in your mind.

So despite how badly you wanted to leave the crowded place and just go home, you stayed. Just in case. You couldn't abandon him even if it was clear he was too far gone from Valentino's aphrodisiacs to be aware of your presence any longer.

At first, you were hesitant to voice your own frustrations about the reoccurring patterns to Vox. He was the overlord in a fucked up situationship with Valentino, after all. However, after a couple of drinks, Vox had gone off on several of his own rants and by the end of the night you had both let out all of your frustrations in a tipsy moment of relief. And no, not in the way you're thinking.

Eventually, the two of you left the club. It was late, and to both of your disdain, you'd lost track of the company you'd arrived with. It didn't seem to matter to the warm hell night, as you found an empty park bench to sit at and started shooting the shit. It was the start of an unexpected friendship that somehow grew into more without Vox realizing.

He'd come to look forward to the stupid memes you'd text him while he was at work. He liked coming over to your shitty apartment and despite how much he bitched about getting fur on his suits, Vox had passed out on the couch with you and your hellcat several times during movie nights. Unlike with the Vees, if you came to him to vent about your day, he genuinely listened. He wanted to provide the relief you gave him when he'd vent to you.

The realization of his feelings hit him like a freight train. As blaringly obvious the loud horns and bright lights may have been to any outside observer, Vox had blindly tied himself to the track without even knowing where he found the rope.

You had fallen asleep on his shoulder after the two of you spent the night marathoning some old, poorly written romcom series. There was popcorn on the floor from where you had thrown the pieces at the horribly stupid couple on the screen while Vox yelled at them for their emotional constipation. Your hair was messily framing your face as the tiniest little snores escape you on occasion. There was a small train of drool running down your chin, and Vox couldn't help but chuckle at how gracelessly you slept.

Without thinking, he tossed a blanket over you and leaned back, so he held you against him where he now lay on the couch. His arms draped over your back, and he smiled softly as your cat noticed the new position and hopped up to lay between your legs. Vox closed his eyes, content as he slowly rubbed your back and let himself relax.

He loved the smell of your shampoo. He loved how he had to use lint rollers after cuddling with you, as stupid and annoying as it could be to keep up the habit. It was worth it, just to remember your smile when he'd find a strand of fur he missed. He loved your stupid sense of humor, and he loved how at peace he felt when he was with you.

For as much as he loved his power and business, he loved getting to let his walls down with you more. He loved getting to just be the dorky guy with a bow tie and vest you poked fun at. He loved the time you tried to make him wear one of your hoodies, only for his head to get stuck. He loved you.

Vox's eyes snapped open as the peaceful sleep he'd almost slipped into was snatched away by the reality of his feelings. His heart was beating so loud, he was surprised you didn't wake up. If anything, you just wrapped your arms around him and buried your face against his chest and it took everything in Vox not to explode there and then.

For the entire night, Vox screamed internally as his body shook, and he repressed the shocks and jolts that threatened to spark and wake you from your peaceful slumber. The overlord looked like exhausted shit by the time you rose with the sun, but he couldn't be damned to care. Not when you sleepily rubbed your eyes and laughed like that. Not when your hair was sticking to your face and you said good morning to him like you were meant to start the mornings in his arms just as naturally as you would breathe.

No. Vox couldn't care less about how worn out he was from the realization if he tried. Just like always, the second he saw your smile, everything else just washed away into background static. He cupped your face and said some sort of sassy quip about your bed head, to which you immediately started freaking out over.

He watched as you started to pat your hair down frantically and smiled softly. Oh yeah, he was fucking whipped.

[azrielsdove]

The Night the High Lord Fell: Rhysand x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Lots of tears, Suggestive, 18+

***

Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. You ran from your room, darting through the halls and down the stairs of the townhouse. Dread settled over you as you ran, heading towards the darkness pooling in the living room.

Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. Rhys was kneeling in the middle of the room, his head buried in his hands. Shadows twirled around him, the floor a mass of darkest night. You hurried to his side, slamming your knees into the ground as you slid next to him. You wrapped your arms tightly around his shaking body, holding your oldest friend as close as you could.

“I’m here, i’m here. I’m here, Rhys.” You murmured over and over, one hand coming to stroke his hair. He sunk into your hold, the only sign that he even knew you were there. You continued to whisper that you were with him, that he was safe. This was a routine the two of had done since you were young. One comforting the other, grounding them and reminding them that they weren’t alone.

Though you had never seen him this bad.

You replayed the events leading up to today in your head, trying to figure out what could have upset him like this. He hadn’t been the same since he came back from Under the Mountain, but no one expected him to be. Not after all he had endured down there, ending with finding his mate-

Her wedding.

Feyre was to be married today. Realization shuddered through you, hot and fast. She married Tamlin.

She rejected Rhys.

You knew that was her own choice, that a mating bond didn’t necessarily have to be followed. You just never expected her to not be called to it. Rhys had gone to the wedding, intent on “rescuing” her. Clearly, she had not wanted to be rescued.

You saw movement out of the corner of your eye, turning slightly to see Cassian and Azriel standing in the entry. You shook your head slightly, a sign to let them know he needed to be alone. Well, aside from you. The two Illyrians nodded and retreated back, presumably to pass the information on to Amren and Mor. Something had happened with Rhys, but you had it under control. You would debrief them later.

You lost track of how long you sat there, holding your friend and whispering familiar securities. Eventually the swirling darkness around you began shrinking, called back in to its master. You stayed with Rhys until late in the night, never moving from his side. As the early rays of dawn began peaking over the horizon, he finally raised his head from his hands and looked at you.

Your heart ached at the pain on his face.

“She was happy.” He said, voice hoarse from hours of silence. “She is thriving down there. I expected to find her still struggling, I expected Tamlin to have ignored her needs, I-I-I.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I was wrong.” You said nothing, simply tucking his head against your shoulder and resuming the stroking of his hair. Wet tears slid onto your neck, the only warning you got before his body started shaking with sobs. You held him tighter, rocking slightly. You thought about Tamlin, about how Under the Mountain must have changed him as well. You were there when he and Rhys were friends, and you were there when it was all torn apart. You didn’t think he was inherently bad, but his upbringing had certainly been no help. You still struggled to see how anyone could choose him over Rhys.

“You won’t have to handle this alone, Rhys. I’m here,” you soothed, trying to think of anything that would help. You did not know the pain of a broken mating bond, but you knew it would take a long time for him to recover from this.

And you would be by his side every step of the way.

***

Morning had fully come by the time you convinced Rhys to stand up, helping him up to his room. You drew him a bath and pushed him into it, forcing him to wash away the physical reminders of the day. You washed his hair carefully, fingers moving delicately across his scalp. You remembered his mother doing this to you when you were young, how calm you would feel when she did.

You dried him off and helped him out of the bath, handing him the towel before moving to prepare his bed. You kept the drapes drawn tight, all light blocked from the room. This was not the first time you had taken care of Rhys like this, but it was certainly the worst. You knew something in his soul had been torn out, a pain you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

You guided him into bed, not bothering to try to get him to dress. You knew him too well to waste your time on that. You tucked the covers gently around him, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. His eyes were empty, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your heart at the shell of your friend, seeing him in such a state. You grabbed the sleeping draught you had requested Madja bring, tilting it down his throat. He gave no protest at the sweet-tasting liquid.

You waited by his side until the draught took, watching his eyes close and his body finally relax into sleep. You sat there for a while longer after, holding his hand and observing him. Only when you had convinced yourself he was peacefully asleep and would stay that way did you stand and leave. You closed the door gently behind you, not at all surprised to find Mor waiting on the other side.

“How is he?” She asked, biting the tip of a nail in worry. You shook your head, the tears that you had been holding back escaping.

“I’ve never seen him in such a state,” you cried, wrapping your arms around yourself. Mor tugged you close, running her hand through your hair the same way you had done to Rhys. She walked you to your room, only a door down from his.

“We will get him through this. You don’t have to handle his pain on your own,” she said, making you sit on your bed.

“I don’t see how to get him out of this. He’s completely broken, Mor. The combination of all that he went through Under the Mountain and this, back to back?” A shudder ran through you. “How does one survive all that?” You felt sick even thinking about all Rhys had endured.

Mor brought you a change of clothes, gathering your hands into hers. “We have to figure out a way, don’t we? We can’t allow him to suffer in this forever.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead, giving your hands a squeeze. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

You watched as she left the room, insisting that you try to rest. She was off to have the kitchen prepare your favorite meal and deliver it, a subtle nudge that you should eat. You looked down at the clothes she had brought you, her words playing over and over in your mind.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

“if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

But what if you can’t?

***

The next day wasn’t much better. Nor was the next. Or the one after. Certainly not the one after that.

Weeks had gone by of you trying everything you could to get through to Rhys. He barely left his bed, survived off a liquid diet that you spooned into his mouth, and never spoke a word. He was wasting away in front of your eyes, both physically and mentally.

You weren’t doing much better.

You spent all your time attempting to get through to him. After you had given him his now-nightly sleeping draught you collapsed into your bed, crying until your face was raw. The tears had begun to slow, your body losing even the energy for that. You were becoming your own shell in your desperate attempt to heal Rhys.

A knock sounded at your door. You weren’t even sure you had said “Come in,” but the door opened and Mor entered. She tsked at the state of you, carrying over a tray of food and sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Now this won’t do,” she mused, observing the rumpled sheets and your dirty hair. “You can’t help him if you’re working yourself to death!” You turned your head and bleakly opened one eye.

“I don’t know how to help him.”

“You have to help yourself first. Here, let me draw you a bath and get you cleaned up. Then we will eat and devise a new plan. Staying in that stuffy room with him all day isn’t doing either of you any good.”

You couldn’t argue with her, or maybe you just didn’t have the energy to try, so you allowed her to pull you to the bathroom and force you into the large tub. She only left after you insisted that you were able to wash yourself, dropping the sponge into the water with a huff.

When you had finished she had a warm towel ready for you, along with clean pajamas. “I will not have my two closest family members waste away into nothingness.” She stated as you got dressed, pushing the tray of food towards you. You knew better than to argue, sitting on your bed and reaching for a bread roll. You hummed at the taste, suddenly realizing how long it had been since you had a hot meal.

“Now, let’s talk,” Mor began, clapping her hands together. “Tomorrow you have to get him up and moving. He needs to go outside.” You nodded in agreement, already feeling better from bathing and eating. Gods knew getting outside would be good for you too.

“Outside. I can do that,” you agreed, grabbing another roll as you thought of how to get him out of bed tomorrow.

***

“Outside” was not as easy as it had seemed.

You strode into Rhys’ room that morning full of renewed purpose, flinging the drapes open wide and letting in the sun. You had expected him to protest in some way, to grumble at you or pull the blankets over his head.

Instead he just lay there, as unmoving as ever.

You sighed, walking over to the edge of his bed. “Come on, Rhys. We are going to go outside. Get some fresh air. Doesn’t that sound nice?” You should be used to his lack of response by now, no better than talking to a corpse. You pulled the blankets from his body, grabbing onto his hands. You tugged him up to sit, sliding his legs off the edge of the bed. “Okay Rhys, you have to help me here,” you groaned, hoisting him up to stand.

Before immediately dropping him to floor.

You gave a shout of alarm, quickly bending down to make sure he was okay. After ensuring there was no damage down, you stood up and walked for the door, telling him you’d be back shortly. You knew Cassian and Azriel had been staying at the townhouse ever since Rhys came back, too worried to reside elsewhere. You knocked on Azriel’s door, pacing while you waited for him to answer.

“Is everything okay?” He asked when he did, taking in your agitated form.

“Yes! Well, no. I mean, he’s okay, but, uh, I..” You looked down at the ground. “I may have dropped him on the floor.” Silence came from the Shadowsinger.

Followed by a sharp laugh. “You dropped him?” You looked up at him, crossing your arms defensively in front of you.

“I was trying to get him to go outside. I need your help. He can’t stay in that bed forever.” Any ounce of humor fell from Azriel’s face as he gave a nod of agreement.

“Take me to him.”

He followed you back down to Rhys’ room, taking a look at the crumpled form of his High Lord on the ground. He sighed, picking him up with ease. “Where do you want him?”

“In the bath, for now. We will battle dressing him and getting him out later.” Azriel abided, taking Rhys into the large bathing room. You followed closely behind, grabbing a set of clothes for him as you went. Between the two of you, you got Rhys into the tub and washed. Getting him out was a bit more difficult, his body slippery from the water. Azriel ended up using his shadows to haul him out, using them to keep him standing as well. You dried and dressed him quickly, unsure how much of this he was even noticing.

You looked over him with a frown. Clearly a walk would not be happening today, but you still needed to get him out. You sighed, sidling up next to him and throwing his arm around your shoulders. “Call your shadows,” you instructed Azriel, bracing yourself to take the weight of Rhys. Azriel looked half-inclined to argue before thinking better of it, pulling his shadows back from Rhys. You groaned under the dead weight, but managed to hold the two of you up. “Come on, Rhys. Walk with me to the balcony. Can you do that?” You weren’t sure he even heard you anymore, or if he had completely sunk into himself. You nudged him in the direction of the doors, taking a step.

He didn’t react.

Azriel silently took up the spot on his other side, helping you half-carry Rhys out to the balcony. You set him down on a chair, making sure he was steady before letting go. You gave Azriel a small smile, appreciative of his help. “I’ll call for you if I need your assistance again, okay?” He nodded once at the dismissal before slipping from the room, leaving you and Rhys alone on the balcony.

You pulled a second chair over to his, sitting facing him. You tucked one of his hands in yours, thumbs running over the soft skin there. “I was thinking about your mother the other day,” you began, focusing on the once strong hand in yours. “Remember when she caught us preparing that sugar trap for your sister?” You gave a small laugh, recalling how amused she had been, trying to put on an angry front. She had found the two of you covered head to toe in powdered sugar, sugar that was supposed to explode all over his sister. “She was always too nice to us, don’t you think? Washing us up in the bath after we coating her house in that powder. Making us sugar cookies once we were all clean, our only punishment that we had to share with your sister.” You shook your head, tears pricking at your eyes. “I miss them, Rhys.” Emotion clogged your throat, chest becoming tight. You continued rubbing your thumbs in soothing circles on his hand, still focused on it. “I miss you,” you whispered out, your voice not strong enough for anything louder.

Gods, you missed him.

“I know what happened to you has been horrible. I can’t even begin to imagine all you went through Under the Mountain, only to have it followed up with a broken mating bond.” Tears slid down your cheeks. “You deserve all the time to heal that you need, I know that. It’s selfish of me, I know, to wish that you were okay again. You need time to recover from it all.” You sniffed, tears coming faster. “I just miss you so much, Rhys. I don’t know what to do anymore. You were gone for fifty years, disappearing right under our noses. We barely got a goodbye.” Sobs were shaking your body now, the memory of Rhys’ warning flooding your head before all communication was lost. “Then you come back, mated to the girl who saved you. A true match, some would say. None of us thought she’d find happiness elsewhere, you know that. You go to rescue her, your fairytale romance, only to find that she didn’t need rescued.” You gave a cold laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You found her thriving and happy in the arms of another, in the arms of your enemy. Your mate, who couldn’t be bothered with you. How cruel is that?” Hot anger flared through you at the injustice of it all. You knew Feyre deserved to be happy just as much as Rhys did, but you couldn’t help to wish that she hadn’t found happiness like that. “You come back here, a shell of yourself. Don’t you see, Rhys?” Your voice grew quiet. “You came back to me. You’ve always come back to me.” You paused the massaging of his hand, going silent for a moment.

“My heart is yours. I would give it up a thousand times over for you to live happily with the one your soul was mated to, if she had wanted that. Maybe…maybe there’s a reason she didn’t want it. More than just her love for Tamlin.” Tears fell onto his hand, one thumb moving to swipe them away. “Maybe the cauldron realized it made a mistake,” you muttered, refusing to look up at him. Not that he would react to anything you said, you weren’t even sure he could hear you. Perhaps that’s why you now felt able to tell him the truth, to tell him how you truly feel. “I love you, Rhys. I’ve loved you for a long time now. I know you wanted a mate, that you held out for the soul cauldron-bound to yours. When you found her, I accepted that was it. I would move to the side, no longer your Second both in court and in your life. And that was okay. Anything to see you happy was worth it.” Your tears slowed, as if putting the truth out there was healing the brokenness inside of you. “But what now, Rhys? You are wasting away into nothingness, and I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back. Please. Come back to me, one last time.” You slowly raised his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before letting go.

Except the hand did not drop.

Instead, it curled around one of yours.

Your head shot up in alarm, eyes wide as you saw Rhys looking at you. Truly looking at you. His eyes were shiny with tears of his own, his hand locked tight around yours. As if he was scared that if he let go you’d bolt and never be seen again.

“Is it true?” He asked, voice hoarse. “You love me?” You bit your lip nervously, nodding slowly. Was it too much? You hadn’t realized he was listening, you should’ve looked up sooner, how could you dump all that on hi-

Your thoughts were interrupted by him pulling you forcefully into his lap, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Oh, sweet angel,” he murmured into your hair, arms strong around you. You slowly moved to twine your arms around his neck, holding him just as tight. “I never thought you’d feel the same.”

Your head shot up and you looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “What?” Rhys laughed, a sound so joyful you couldn’t help the smile the ticked at the corners of your mouth. He raised one hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face lovingly.

“I’ve been in love with you for ages. I assumed you didn’t feel the same, and I didn’t wish to ruin what we had. While I did want a mate, I used that excuse as more of a front than a real reason. It was never about who my mate was.” He smiled at you. “It was always about you.”

You continued to stare at him in shock, your mind unable to believe what he was saying. All this time, all this time, you both wanted each other. You didn’t realize you were crying again until his eyes widened in alarm, brushing the tears away from your cheeks with his hands. “Hey, don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you long ago, shouldn’t I?” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up through you, pure disbelief at the situation.

“We have been fools,” you said, smiling at him. “Sad, poor fools.” He laughed with you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Perhaps we have been. I’m willing to forgive our past mistakes if you promise to stand by my side until the end of our days. If you will have me.” You nodded against him, tears of joy falling from your eyes. He smiled, before dropping his voice ever so slightly. “May I kiss you?”

You gave an answering smile, curling your fingers into the hair on the back of his head. “You may.”

Rhys’ lips met yours a little uncertainly, as if he was scared to come on too strong. You flattened one palm against the back of his neck, pushing him closer to you. He took that as a sign to abandon all caution, one hand wrapping tight around your waist while the other held your face to his. He kissed you with a passion you had never experienced, the feeling of a thousand suns bursting inside of you. You moaned slightly against his kiss, his fingers digging into your waist at the sound. This was where you were meant to be, this was what it had all been for.

Rhys’ hand trailed down your body, stopping on the curve of your thigh. He hoisted your legs up and over him, making you straddle his body. You gasped at the feeling of him under you, his hips coming up to roll against yours. His fingers played with the hem of your shirt, teasing the skin there. You were seconds away from abandoning all rational thought and allowing him to take you right here when a low cough sounded from the doorway. You shot back from Rhys, eyes darting to the intruder. Rhys only chuckled, hand trailing up and down your body.

Azriel.

“I just came to check everything was okay, but I see you’ve got it under control.” He said, eyes sparkling with a million plans to tease you for this. You glared at him, thoughts muddled by Rhys pressing soft kisses to your neck.

“Yes, Azriel, everything is under control. Now if you’d leave us, I have some rather important matters to attend to,” Rhys said, biting your skin in between words. Azriel nodded, a smile ghosting his lips as he disappeared from view.

And attend to those matters he did.

***

Happy Mother’s Day to any moms I have following me!! 🫶🏻 And Happy Sunday to everyone else haha. I hope you guys liked this one!!

[itsonlybaby]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐛. 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞﹒

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

playlist !

Bellamy Blake - Arkadia

꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ ⸝⸝ Bellamy calls a group meeting to decide certain defense plans and catch up with everyone, but his jealousy gets the best of him. ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: smut, p in v, jealousy, nsfw, degrading, praise

Walking into the main room where we kept the rovers I saw chairs near an open rover, my friends sitting in all of them.

Everyone had a smile on their face. Everyone being, Clarke, Bellamy, Monty, Jasper, Harper, and Miller. It was nice when we got to just sit and catch up with each other, not worry about grounders and Polis, even If it was for a mere hour.

Walking up to the group I was met with greetings and questions. I took a seat in the back of the open rover, my legs sticking out as my hands found their place on the edge of the floor.

"You missed Bellamys 'defense' plans," Miller spoke to me with a laugh, doing air quotes. earning a scoff from Bellamy.

"What am I ever gonna do now?" I reply, joining Miller's laughter.

"You should've heard it! Stupidest thing-" Jasper soon got cut off by Bellamy's stern voice.

"Where were you," Bellamy asked, eyeing me up and down, not that I noticed.

My laughter died down, same with Millers at Bellamy's tone. A thick silence now surrounded the group.

I furrowed my eyebrows, "I was just hanging with Kyle and lost track of time." I finished with a shrug.

I didn't understand why discussing defense plans we never would use was so important to him, Monty could've just relayed the plan to me afterward. Me and Bellay had been friends for a while, even on the Ark, he would come and visit me on visitation days while I was in the cell.

Bellamy scoffed and placed his hands on his hips- something he often did when he was frustrated. "These are important meetings, don't miss them for some guy." Bellamy's eyes were still focused on my outfit. I was wearing a pair of short shorts and a T-shirt that hugged me in all the right places.

Everyone started to shift uncomfortably in their seats, their smiles now long gone.

"It's okay Bellamy, well just tell her the plan after, for what it's worth I thought it was a good idea." Clarke chirped up from next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder which he quickly shrugged off.

Here comes Clarke, sucking up for Bellamy. It was something she had always done. Wherever Bellamy was, she was right there next to him, it got on my nerves most of the time, how close they would always be.

I rolled my eyes at Clarke's sentence, crossing my arms on my chest; only helping to push my tits up more. Which Bellamy took full note of.

"Hey, Monty we have that, uh, thing remember?" Jasper spoke to Monty.

"Oh, yeah, right, we should get going."

"Me too." Harper butted in

The three quickly stood up and exited the room, clearly trying to get away from the awkward, thick tension.

"I should get going too, the wall isn't gonna watch itself." Miller joked, chuckling awkwardly.

"Let me go with-" Bellamy cut me off.

"I need to talk with you," He started, "Alone," he finished, looking at Miller and Clarke. A sign they should leave.

Clarke pursed her lips before nodding and joining Miller before leaving, closing the airlock door.

I felt my heartbeat quicken, it was just me and Bellamy now. Alone.

A few moments had passed of him just staring me down, studying my every move as I shifted in my position, my legs now crossed along with my arms.

I cleared my throat, "What did you need?" I asked with a stutter, my nerves were through the roof.

They always were when I was alone with him. He always had such a strong effect on me, his good looks, his strong body. Bellamy was the one I thought of late at night.

"What were you doing with Kyle?" Bellamy asked, walking closer to me, making me look up at him from where I was sitting.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, was he really jealous?

"He was showing me a blueprint for a new scope he was making. Why? You jealous?" I teasingly spoke.

My teasing seemed to fuel his anger more.

"In that outfit? Yeah, right." Bellamy laughed, crossing his arms

My brows creased, "What's wrong with my outfit?" I looked down at it, examining it myself. The shorts were a bit short, but it's not like anyone would be looking.

"You're always walking around in those skimpy outfits, Kyle was probably eye fucking you." Bellamy was so close I could smell him, a smell I've come to love, a smell I've dreamed of for years.

"I don't say anything when Clarke is practically on top of you," I admitted, who was he to tell me I wear skimpy outfits, I didn't even know he looked at me like that, though his words were harsh it sent a wave of warmth down my body.

Bellamy smiled, this was amusing to him. "You think I want Clarke?"

I rolled my eyes, making him grab my face, bringing me closer to his. "Don't roll your eyes at me, princess." Bellamy let me go harshly, if I was wet before I'm pooling now. I simply nodded my head, too starstruck to form a sentence, he chuckled in reply.

"Undress. Now." Bellamy demanded. I didn't even need to think about it, the moment he said those words it was done, my clothes found their way onto the floor, I had picked the wrong day to go without wearing panties.

Being the only one undressed I felt vulnerable, I looked back up at him and he knew what I wanted to say before I even had to say it.

"You wanna dress like a slut, you're gonna act like one too. Get in the fucking rover."

His words had me soaked, I was sure it was leaking down my leg.

I crawled into the back of the vehicle, laying down and using my arms to lift myself up a bit. The air was hot and full of lust, practically choking me. Bellamy crawled in right after me, he moved my legs and placed them on the sides of his hips.

Were we really gonna go through with this?

He was quick to unbuckle his belt and reveal his cock, I wasn't sure I could take all of him.

"Gonna show you who you belong to, you didn't even wear panties, you're such a slut." Bellamy breathed out, grabbing onto my hips and pulling me closer, I felt his tip rub up and down my pussy, earning a moan from me when it rubbed against my clit.

Bellamy smirked and thrusted into me. I moaned at the sudden feeling of being full, I felt my walls stretch around his cock. The pain was soon replaced with pleasure as his thumb traced circles around my clit.

"Gonna make you feel so good, slut, only I'm gonna make you feel this good."

His thrusts started off slow, a torturing pace. But it was enough to get my legs shaking, combined with his words and his thumb on my clit I was already cumming with a loud moan.

"Fuuuck, you sound so pretty cumming on my dick, princess, just like that."

Bellamy began thrusting harder, continuously hitting my sweet spot over and over again, forcing my back to arch. It all just felt too good.

His free hand came up and shoved my bra down, he made quick work of toying with my breasts. His groans became breathier, his grunts of pleasure enhancing my experience.

"Who do you belong to? Say it." With every word he spoke, he pulled out and slammed right back into me, forcing a pleasure-filled scream out of me, one part of me hoped nobody heard, and the other hoped everyone knew who was fucking me.

I already felt like I was gonna cum again, both his hands found their way to my hips, holding me down roughly.

When I couldn't reply he stopped all movements, leaving me whining and whimpering, I needed his cock, I craved it.

"Say it, or I swear to god I will drag you out of this rover and fuck you in front of everybody." I had no choice but to speak, not because I was scared of people seeing but because I needed him to keep fucking me, I needed to be used by him.

"I belong to you Bell, now please keep fucking me, please," I pleaded, my eyes fogging over with lust, all I could think about was him and his cock.

Bellamy smirked, satisfied with my answer, he began fucking me harder and faster than before. Chasing his own high. I was sure his grip on my hips would leave bruises, but I was glad, I wanted to remember this moment forever.

Wet loud sounds filled the vehicle, our moans intertwining as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled my ears. His cock filled my pussy so well, I knew nobody would ever fuck me this good again, I was all his.

My pussy clenched around his cock and I felt him twitch inside of me, he liked that.

"Keep doing that, be good for me princess."

I obeyed him and kept clenching, my legs now wrapped around his hips, needing him deeper inside me.

"So close, so close," He let out between moans, his thrusts now becoming sloppier. "Fuuck,"

I felt his warm cum fill my pussy, his thrust came to a slow gentle pace, still fucking his cum into me.

After catching his breath he pulled out, now leaving me feeling empty without him.

Just as he was about to say something the door behind him opened, revealing Kyle. A shocked, jaw-dropped Kyle. Bellamy quickly moved in front of me as Kyle took in the sight. Once he realized the situation he slammed the door.

My face was flushed red but Bellamy found the situation hilarious.

"I never want this to end," I admit, looking into his eyes.

"Then it won't, princess."

◜♡﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭﹒𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹒𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[nekomanager]

005. 𝙈𝙄𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝙄𝘿𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 • DREAMS

track list • prev - epilogue

What if the sexy stranger in your dreams and your seductive client at work is actually a ravishing demon determined to love you whatever it takes? Can you break through the delusions before it's too late?

incubus!kuroo, f!reader, creampie, deep pnetration, l-bombs, overstimulation, rough sex, pussyeating, fngering, slightedging, masturbation

here it comes! who would've thought. it took me almost a yr 🤧 this fic bears a lot of memories. I love Kuroo and how thos story unfolds. I hope y'all too. I have smth special in store foe my dear readers too! tha k you for your support and for keeping until the end if this story. 🫶❤️

You were lying in your bed staring at the red collar you gave Mr. Midnight, your cat. Your thumb traced the details of it—the golden bell, the fine leather and every memory of him approaching you before you sleep, welcoming you from work and nuzzling against you when the nights felt too cold.

The old lady said that this item you gave Mr. Midnight was Kuroo’s gateway to your dreams and now that he had returned it, he could never go back anymore.

Her words rang all over your head repetitively.

When an incubus falls in love, his entire being will be tied with his person. He will repel other women and will live, starving, craving for the one he truly and only desires.

If that’s so, then why were you the one feeling this way? Why did it feel like you’re the one who lost a huge part of you now that he’s gone?

His cheeky smile appeared before your sight and his laughter echoed in your ear, making you shiver. How you’d wish it was all true, but they were all recollections of the past you used to have.

You closed your eyes, letting the moment of the night you last saw each other play in your head again. His beguiling smile, captivating scent and warm presence—the firmness of his hold on your hand, tenderness in the way he gazed at you and the honesty in his laughter.

On rewind, you recalled the moment you saw the truth in his eyes. His despair when he begged and your fault when you decided to run away. Tears slid down from your eyes. You went back to the party, threw yourself on him in a big hug and took him away from the crowd. It’s the fantasy of what you could’ve done.

Even if your heart broke each time, you’d still choose to relive your memories again and again, because these memories were what was left of him—these memories were the only proof that, for once, your heart knew how to love and what love was.

Days passed by monotonously. You tried to come back to yourself, picking up the pieces while soothing yourself with thought of him whenever you feel alone.

You strolled by your usual spot, the place where you found Mr. Midnight. Orange and yellow hues cast a beautiful highlight at the little nook.

Kuroo sets you free because he knew he hurt you by not telling you the truth early on and that you might’ve thought that he was only using you as someone to feed on.

The freedom Kuroo gave you was the greatest proof that he loves you.

You’re understanding it clearly now.

Unbuckling the red collar around your wrist, you took a last glance at it. A smile finally surfaced your features as you leave the collar at the spot.

Above it all, your heart was clear, you love Kuroo in all his forms.

And even if the collar was your last remembrance of him, you would sacrifice it as your last and most desperate effort to let him know that even with the freedom he gave you, you’d still choose him.

Walking away, you swallowed the tears in thickly, but they still fell and you’re quick to wipe them away.

Now, it’s all up to fate.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

You woke up each day on autopilot. Go to work, get your job done, eat dinner and fall asleep, but there was no night when you didn’t pretend that Kuroo’s right beside you, holding you tight in your sleep as you hoped you’d see him even just in your dreams again.

“Y/N! We’re having a dinner aren’t you going with us?” your officemate asked, which you replied with a polite dismissive bow.

“I’ll just hop in next time, promise.”  You smiled and they went their way, bidding you good bye.

Sighing, you tightened your hold on your bag as you made your way home, relishing your surroundings. The sunset looked pretty again, you noticed. For whatever reason, you paused from walking this time around, took your phone from your bag and snapped a picture of it.

The dusk blazed in pretty purple and pink—a beautiful ending to another day.

You were admiring your photo when someone bumped hard into you. You looked up at his tall stature...

“S-Sorry!” you said.

The man threw daggers at you and kept walking away.

Asshole. You thought.

Sighing, you slipped your phone back into your bag. However, you completely missed, and the gadget accidentally fell on the ground.

You stooped down to pick it up, but someone beat you to it.

“Oh, thank you murmured.”

Returning the phone in your hand...

His hair was still tousled in disarray, but his eyes showed signs of exhaustion somehow. Regardless, he still looked as attractive as you remembered him. It didn't matter at all! You just can’t believe he’s right in front of you now.

“Kuroo?” you murmured in disbelief, blinking twice.

Your heart was happy and though all you wanted was to engulf him in an embrace you were too overwhelmed to move a bit. Your head was still making sure you’re not dreaming, but even if this was just a dream, you’d still take it.

“Tetsurou,” he said with conviction, extending his hand. “It’s Tetsurou. Allow me to introduce myself properly this time.”

A teary smile formed on your face as you took his invitation. “Tetsurou.”

“Yeah…” He grinned a grin of relief. “Part-time mystical being and corporate officer. Full-time, thinking of you and how you’ve been all this time, it’s keeping me up late at night. I’m losing sleep.”

You chuckled at his usual sense of humor. “I can’t stop thinking about you too.”

Tetsurou stepped closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek. “You look tired. Have you been eating right and resting well? Would you wanna eat somewhere? What’s your favorite food? Is it still salmondon? Wait- Am I...Am I goin’ too fast?”

You shook your head. “Dinner sounds good,” you replied with a prim smile and he returned it with a grin.

You walked side by side. Your hands grazed against each other, both hesitating to hold, until he linked his pinky with yours and your fingers began lacing, entangled together.

Reaching your destination, the scent of scrumptious food simmered in the air while the warm light welcomed the both of you at the nearby restaurant. You were both seated by the window with the view of the Tokyo streets.

“Look at those bags. You haven’t stopped sleeping late at night,” he said, resting his chin on his hand.

“W-Well...about what happened. I’m-”

He took hold of your hand from across the table. “Let’s make things right… this time around.”

Despite all the hurt of the past weeks, his words and smile were reassuring enough, that after what happened, you can begin again and stop living in regrets. You now have the chance to do things differently and you’d make the most of it.

The waiter arrived with your order and Tetsurou lovingly shared a part of his meal with you.

“We eat like normal humans do and our stomach gets filled because of it, but the other method replenishes our energy,” he poured you a glass of water. “It’s what makes immortal and gives us supernatural abilities.

You gaped in wonder. “Just how many years have you lived already?”

“Honestly, can’t count.” He took a bite of his food.

“Oh,” you pressed the chopsticks over your lips. “In books...the women who gets preyed by the-”

“You’re not one of them,” he abruptly cut to make things clear with you.

Your eyes blinked fast in puzzlement. “What…do you mean?”

Shade of red spread across his face, which he gulped down and finally faced you with a serious expression. “Because I love you,” he said then his lips stretched into a serene smile. “Union with the female we love is an exchange of energy and I’m sharing a part of myself, my being with you each time I visit you even if it’s just in your dreams.” Taking a pinch of his food, he popped it into his mouth as he continued, “With other women, it’s just us taking away their energy for sustenance nothing else.”

“Then...” you tiptoed, asking. “How do you know that it’s finally the woman you love?”

“We simply find others repulsive. With you, I can’t even let any other woman touch me. My stomach feels like turning upside down.”

You blushed and took a gulp of your water. “Is it true that you mark…your… your…?”

Tetsurou quirked a brow up. “Yeah, it is. Where are you learning this?”

“On the internet and in shows...”

He flashed a mischievous smirk, “Just what kind of shows are you watching, huh?”

Your face turned beet red. “H-Hey! W-What're you-”

Laughing, he held a hand over his stomach. “You’re so easy to read!”

“I-I’m just curious! I just wanna know you more,” you reasoned out. “There’s a lot of things out ther. I don’t know which one’s real.”

“Go on, just ask me,” he encouraged. His foot was rubbing against your keg so casually. There was no hint of seduction in his features just pure out of habit, however the simple action alone was making  you want to scoot over close to him.

“Have you...ever had a mate, Tetsu?”

He swung his glass of water back and forth. “Nope.”

“Oh...” you mouthed, careful with what you’re going to say next. “So it’s always a different girl?”

“Y-Yeah…” He dry gulped, looking away.

You just got a taste of your food, still figuring out how to process everything.

Taking a deep breath, Tetsurou looked at you straight in the eyes. “You know, I never believed in the love union shit until I met you.”

“So does that mean that whomever you love becomes your...”

“Not really,” he said. His eyes conveyed a different coldness like he didn’t want to answer the question. “It’s a contract, Y/N. When we mark someone it’s gonna be a contract and every contract has its terms and conditions.”

“Terms and conditions?”

He just smiled in confirmation, not giving anything anymore. It’s like he was dodging the question.

“Bill out?” he asked and you nodded in agreement.

You walked out of the restaurant with hands in each other’s. It was complete silence as people passed you by. The nighttime now highlighted the city lights. The moon shone in full. It’s beautiful in white, mesmerizing and bright, illuminating the beauty of the dark night.

Tetsurou pulled your linked hands up, showing to you that he’s wearing the red collar as a bracelet instead.

“Oh!” you smiled. “So you found that out, huh?”

“Yeah, I saw you left it the other day.”

You quirked up a brow. “So you were stalking me?”

Flustered, he stumbled over his words. “Wai- It’s uh...”

You giggled and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, an old lady right here said that the collar is the link between me and you in dreams.”

“Well, yeah, it is. Any item that you have given me.” Tetsurou quirked a brow up. “From an old lady, huh?” he questioned until an answer seemed to form in his head.

You nodded.

He squeezed your hand. “Recently, there’s a story that someone like me fell in love with a mortal but she doesn’t love him back.” You looked up to him as he continued, “Instead, a different woman loved him truly but his affections already belonged to someone else. They said that the lady is still around looking after him even after so many years have passed.”

Come to think of it. You were almost like that too several days ago.

You reached the elevator to your apartment and you tightened your hold on his hand, letting him know that you still didn’t want him to go.

The doors opened and you both stepped in. Tetsurou swallowed thickly as the desire of pulling you then pinning you against the wall was coming in too strong. He wanted to take it slow and show you that he’s being true, but he mussed you a lot and he couldn’t another day without you in his arms.

The doors opened and you stepped out. Having reached your unit, you turned to face him.

“Good night,” you said but your voice gave out so much longing.

“Good night,” he said  with a lot of resistance.

Both of your breathings matched. You gulped and got on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. He tilted his head just and his lips were touching your jaw. He flattened his palm on the door of your home, your body pressed against the surface. Your gazes locked intensely.

“1117,” you murmured with anticipation.

Tetsurou clenched his jaw to mask his smirk as he keyed in your door’s passkey.

The singsong chime cut through the thick tension and the moment he pushed the door behind you, all of your inhibitions were thrown away.

He grabbed your face and hungrily his mouth devoured yours – no, you both devoured each other - lips crashing, tongues all tied and saliva spilling down your chins. You were both getting a taste of that sensation you missed for a long time. Finally, it’s just so fucking good to have each other in the flesh.

Your shoes scattered all over the floor with the both of you trying to get a grip on your composure. The heavy passion that reverberated through the two of you was too strong and you were swept away. Tetsu’s hands were all over you while you had one of yours cupping his jaw and the others all tangled up around the strands of his hair.

He slipped a hand under your leg, carrying you in bridal style. You were too lost in his mouth on yours that all you could feel was the fire coursing all over your body and the need, want, hunger to give all of yourself to him and take all of him in.

Your body hit the bed and Tetsu hovered over you. His mouth made its way to your neck, hands grabbed a handful of your tits with the other slipped under your skirt.

You dipped your head back, feeling his deft fingers massage the lips of your pussy. Your mind spiraled in pleasure. You never felt it this good. This was far more amazing than in a dream – the stimulation on your now bare breast and the pressure of him rubbing your clit oh so insanely then he added two fingers in. “Mhmn-” you clenched your teeth. He was pumping in and out like crazy. You raised your hips up, feeling the pleasure building in uncontrollable ways that all you could do was moan and whimper. “Aaaah hah...” Shit. It’s there. Fuck- “Ahh!”

Your juices sprayed all over his hand as your body shook wildly. It was dizzying...satisfyingly dizzying. Your head felt light as you laid down there. Tetsu freed you from your skirt, dragging along with it your panties. His palm roamed your leg, running towards your thigh and you shivered still sensitive from your orgasm. He parted your legs open and looked up at you. With a half-lidded gaze directed at you, he swept his tongue in between his lips.

“You look so delicious,” he said right before digging in. His tongue swiped in between your pussy lips, hitting your clit with light flick. He heard you take in a sharp inhale and felt you tremble a little. A smile etched across his lips. That encouraged him even more. He opened your lips further apart as his tongue explored your folds detail by detail in a quickened pace. “Mhmm...y’taste s’good,” he murmured equally getting drunk in your scent and in your taste. He couldn’t get enough of you and he felt his erection so painfully against his pants. You’re so fucking wet he was practically slurping your juices like an addicting alcohol.

Tetsurou knelt, pushing your thighs down close to your sides. His grip on your flesh would definitely leave a mark. He’s so damn engrossed in eating you out that the room was filled with just the sound of his mouth and tongue on your pussy. It was so dirty and sexy at the same time, that it pushed you towards the edge even faster. Again! Again! You’re getting there- You are!

But he pulled back.

You groaned in frustration, and he chuckled a little. His eyes locked yours down as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his perfectly carved abs. You began heaving and oozing even more when he unbuckled his belt and free his hardened cock. Your eyes widened with how huge he was. You could feel your pussy felt desperate.

Teasingly, he was fisting his length. His jaw clenched, veins popping up and he was breathing through gritted teeth. His face was red in restraint. You look so fucking inviting with those lust-filled eyes while you ran your tongue over your lips.

“You want me? You want this cock...” he rubbed the tip over your clit, “...inside you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips to increase the pressure.

He pumped harder and you panted watching Tetsurou with his dick in his hand. His mouth hung open and head swayed back. His low grunts and moans were making you helpless in arousal. You want him. All of him.

“I’m close...I’m close...I’m close...” He repetitively breathed out. Jerking his hips forward he plunged right inside you in a deep forceful shove.

“Tetsu!”

“Y/N!”

His cock was deep inside your core, spilling his warm cum inside and you writhe in orgasm. Your body couldn’t stop shaking yet he was relentless. He began thrusting into you. Now his cum and your juices mixed as a lube for him to fuck your harder and all you could do was dig your fingernails against the skin of his back.

It was crazy. It felt you were coming over and over again. Your head was spiraling in the overwhelming pleasure and the endless desire to feel him more! More! More! Your hips started to match the rhythm of his pelvis. It was rough. He was rough. You were rough. Your skins slapped so hard against each other while you felt your juices spattering with each thrust.

“Ohh- Aaah!” you let out, coming again but he’s still damn hard. He flipped you so your back was against his chest. He swiftly tore your blouse off your body-buttons flying everywhere. His had a handful of your breast as he fucked you slowly from behind. His length was grazing along your slick pussy so torturously.

Unclasping your bra, he watched as your tits jiggle with every movement. He groaned. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy y’know that?” With clenched jaw, he cursed, “So fuckin- sexy!”

He took your elbow while his other hand gripped your waist. Your mouth and eyes popped open as he slammed deep and hard.

“Too much! Tis...too much!” You uttered, going out of your mind.

“Tell me to stop! Go on. Tell me to stop!” Tetsu grunted in almost a yell as if he was daring you and pleading you at the same time.

“No! Don’t! Stop!” Your words came out raggedly along with his hurried and wild movements. “Don’t stop!”

“I will never-” he groaned almost beastly. “Not- when you’re so fucking ready like this!”

You firmly closed your eyes allowing him to fully take control of your body. Your voices echoed around the room with shameful moans and whimpers. There’s something so obscene titillating about how your bodies merge in pleasure.

“Ahh aahh- Tetsu!” You screamed as you came again. Your body weakly gave up on the bed and he watched your used up body as he catches up with his breathing.

He let the beast in him take over again. This night was supposed to be to show how pure and unconditional his feelings were for you. Yet looking at you, with his cum spilling in between the lips of your pussy and handprints all over your body, there’s nothing so pure in what’s happening.

You’re so needy, so fucking filthy and it made him hotter…harder.

Your eyes slightly opened, and they went straight to his still erected cock. You gulped. He saw.

You extended your arms, inviting him in. “Tetsu,” you pleaded and he didn’t think twice. He hovered you, lips quick to find home with yours entangled in a sweet and passionate kiss. Your arms were all around each other. Oh, how you both wished this would moment to never end—just the two of you intertwined and nothing else matters.

Skin to skin, his hand was tenderly massaging your soft breast, while his length rubbed against your slick pussy. Your hips began rocking, seeking for more stimulation and you felt him so hot and ready for another round. Oh, it would feel inside you now. You whimpered in despair and Tetsu chuckled.

“Mhm…so impatient,” he teased.

“Such a meanie.” And your hand travelled to cup one of his ass cheek.

He groaned and grin. “So demanding,” he planted a kiss on your forehead before putting the tip in. He gasped, excitedly anticipating his entrance. It didn’t take long, and you felt just how big and long he was with how much he stretched you and reached you so deep.

Tetsurou began thrusting slowly at first and he hastened when he picked up that you’re catching up with him. You matched his pace, your legs locking him to stay in between. With linked fingers, you both tightened your hold on each other.

“Y/N,” he huffed.

“Tetsu,” you moaned.

“Y/N, Y/N!”

“Tetsu!”

He shifted forward, accessing you even deeper with his balls smacking against your ass.

“I’m close…” he groaned.

“Me too, me tooo!” you cried.

 “Y/N-“ he hissed. “I! fuckin’! love- you-”

“Tetsu-“

Your mouth opened wide as you met your release. Your body shivered wildly and overwhelmingly while he poured all of him inside you. You came hard.

Again. Again and again.

Your love never ends with just that. You were both uncontrollable. You were hungry, trying to get your fill of him, making the most just jn case this was just another dream again. He was fucking you raw You rode him, his face, his dick. He tasted you, licked every inch of you, devoured you. You held each other that night like insatiable beasts.

You came over and over again until you were both overcome with the dawn.

Your body laid limply on top of his. Who knew how long have you been resting like that? You just passed out from rounds and rounds of lovemaking that you couldn’t remember how many times you had done it already.

Tetsu flipped you on your back and began and propped himself on his elbow, watching you rest. You met his gaze and he dipped to kiss your temple until you remembered.

“There’s no...” You asked, wondering why there’s no mark appearing on your belly just like what you have read on the internet.

“I didn’t use my spell on you. I didn’t mark you,” he replied. “The entire night...it’s just you and me. No forces in between.”

“Oh…” you let out and he noticed that questions flooded your head.

“If you want a mark, I can mark you right now,” he said as he sat up to fetch a marker on your bedside table.

You chuckled. “Tetsu!”

“Here it comes!” he proudly announced. The felt tip touched your bare stomach and you wriggled due to the ticklish feeling. “Hold it…hold it.”

“What are you doing?” You took a look at his creation. “What have you done?” What’s supposed to be a winged-heart symbol turned out to be a silly doodle.

Glancing up at you, he traced his finger over his joke of a drawing. “Marking you as my mate is a contract in exchange of your soul and sanity,” he explained. “It works like drugs. You’ll lose your mind, wanting nothing but to provide for me. You’ll live like a slave not a human.” He placed a soft kiss on the spot.

You gulped, afraid of the thought yet you were also concerned about him. “But...what happens? What about you?”

Tetsurou chuckled and kissed your jaw then your lips. “It’s alright. It’s good to be mortal...at last,” he said.

His hand caressed your head as he studied your eyes lovingly. His gaze showed how you were the single best thing that ever happened in his existence; heaven or hell, night or day, there’s no difference nor distance that could separate two people who love each other as long as they keep choosing the other no matter what.

You cupped his cheek, looking back at how everything began. Behind your stray cat, the man of in your dreams and your incessant client...It’s his soul, his heart. “I love you,” you said, eyes sparkling in forming tears.

Brushing the side of your face with the back of his hand, Tetsu smiled down at you. “And I’d rather die than live another lifetime without you.”

As my thank you, an epilogue will be released on the 27th of October 🫶

— 😈  

@tetzoro @moonartemisia @chibishae34 @jadeisthirsting 

@swimmingtimetravelwolf-blog @joy-laufeyson @swithberry @londonstylesxx 

@kuroos--little--kitten @backinmyphase @waxhers 

@osamwah @elmtree12 @creepyicee @dragonxbabe 

@pineapplesneedrights @villsophie 

@pi-crust @lyqiche @trinxt @everyonesroiting @yutzz  

@mahitomycutieee @shidouryusm @reallyperson27 @lawlzichat 

@docosahexaenoic-san @rinatoshi @prickles-the-penguin @soulessien 

@supahumbreon @kittendazzle @simpforyoubitch 

@liquidcatt @nabisonyeo94 @dragonxbabe @misachibi 

@docosahexaenoic-san @lyqiche @sushinwasabi @rinatoshi

@supahumbreon @kittendazzle @kittendazzle

© NEKOMANAGER - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

[hikarry]

So, I was rewatching season 1 and got stuck in that scene between Shadwell and Aziraphale in the bookshop.

What if Aziraphale never stepped into the circle? What if the fire never really happened?

Imagine:

Shadwell is lost in his shenanigans, ready to banish Aziraphale to whatever place witchfinders banish witches, and Aziraphale is slowly walking backward.

"Oh, but this is utterly ridiculous." He stops on his tracks, looking Shadwell in the eye. "I'm sorry, good man, but I have no time for whatever silliness is happening right now. If you don't mind, I have an Armageddon to stop." Aziraphale snaps his fingers, and Shadwell disappears, reapearing a few streets over at the other side of Soho. There surely he wouldn't get in the way.

Careful not to step on the active circle, Aziraphale leaves the bookshop and flags down the first cab he sees. The driver stops right in front of the bookshop, and he gets in, giving him Crowley's address in Mayfair.

The last time he called, the demon was home, so that's exactly where Aziraphale hoped he remained. With a bit of luck, he hadn't left for Alpha Centauri... Now that he thought about it, he mentioned having an old friend over? As far as he knew, he himself was the only friend Crowley had, so that statmebt now sounded like a load of nonsense. But whatever. He just needed to speak with Crowley, old friend present or not. Heaven clearly wanted the war to happen, and he had been naive to think they would see reason. The only chance the Earth had of surviving now was the angel and Crowley. He could only pray it wasn't too late and Crowley wasn't gone. He knew where the Anti-Christ was, after all. They could stop this!

When the cab stopped on the street of Crowley's building, Aziraphale paid his fare and threw a quick blessing in the driver's direction for his speed and efficiency before crossing the street and entering the complex.

He had been to Crowley's flat once or twice in the last 20 years. All he had to do was go through the entrance, get on the lift to the last floor, and walk down the corridor towards the last door. And that's exactly what he did, always fiddling with his fingers in a show of the nervous energy that seemed to take over him. They were running out of time. The end of the world would occur any minute now, and Crowley needed to be home. They still had to drive all the way to Tadfield's airbase, and the clock was tickling rather ominously inside his head.

Finally in front of the door to Crowley's flat, he knocked. A few seconds passed with no response, and he decided to knock again, stronger now, but he got exactly the same result.

Aziraphale looked around the hallway, taking a deep breath and smoothing his waistcoat, considering his options.

"Crowley?" He ended up knocking again. "Crowley, we need to talk!" Silence. "I know you're cross with me after our last conversation, but you were right. I talked to the Metatron. And they want the war. As I told you on the phone, I know where the antichrist is, and it would be very nice of you if you opened the door so we could get a wiggle on and stop the Apocalypse." Once again, he was met with silence.

Was it possible? Did Crowley actually leave for Alpha Centauri? He was here minutes ago! He couldn't have left already, right?

Oh, bless it all. He wasn't going to waste any more time.

With a final deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the door unlocked. He opened it slightly, peering inside.

"Crowley? I'm sorry If I'm intruding but this matter is rather urgent." All he got in return was silence. Not a single noise from the demon himself or the so called old friend.

He pushed the remainder of the door open and stepped inside, silently closing it behind him. He looked at the living room, but it was empty of any living soul, apart from the plants on the far wall.

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale called again, now walking towards the office to the left. The door was slightly ajar already, so he spied inside. It looked empty, but he walked in regardless, almost stepping on a pile of goo right there in front of the floor.

"What the...?" He looked down, stepping over the weird substance.

It smelled weirdly of sulfur and...was that Holy Water?

His head snapped to the desk, where he found the thermos he had given Crowley back in the 60s, the cap unscrewed by its side.

Suddenly, he felt his heart stop, and his veins turn into ice. His body gave an involuntary step back away from the smudge, his back hitting the throne as he lifted a now trembling hand to cover his mouth.

No. This couldn't be happening. He would-! Crowley certainly wouldnt-!

A sob escaped his throat as his whole body started shaking.

Oh lord. This was a nightmare. It could only be a nightmare. This wasn't real. Couldn't possibly be real.

Oh Crowley...

Aziraphale's legs failed him, and he ended up on the floor, back leaning against the side of the ridiculous throne Crowley liked so much. Not that he would like anything ever again because he was gone. Crowley was gone. And it was Aziraphale's fault. He was the one who gave him the cursed thermos against his better judgment. And now all his fears were laid bare right in front of his eyes.

Another sob escaped him and he let the heartache take charge, spilling warm tears down his cheeks.

Crowley was gone. The Apocalypse was coming and Crowley was gone. Not to Alpha Centauri but actually gone. Utterly destroyed. And all that remained of his best friend was an unidentifiable goo. Not a trace of Crowley remained.

He hugged himself, hanging his head low, letting the tears fall on his crossed arms and allowing the wretched sobs to take over. He couldn't bear to look at it a second longer. The smell of sulfur and Holy Water was starting to get nauseating.

Well, contrary to popular belief, Crowley was actually very much alive, speeding through the streets on London in the direction of the bookshop. He parked in his usual place and snapped his finger to open the doors of the building.

"Aziraphale?" He looked around, quickly spotting the active circle. Lifting an eyebrow above his sunglasses, he carefully walked towards it, still searching for any trace of the angel. "Aziraphale, are you here?"

The circle was still active with holy energy, so no one had actually stepped through it, and Aziraphale was clearly not in the bookshop, so where could he possibly be?

With a sigh, Crowley turned around and went back to the Bentley. He drove around Soho for a bit, trying to spot some blond curls in the crowd but falling short of success.

"Aziraphale, where the bloody hell are you?" He muttered to himself, carefully scanning the streets, until he gave up, changing his course back to Mayfair.

He needed to regroup. Without knowing where Aziraphale was and without the information on the antichrist he apparently had, Crowley needed to think.

He made his way back to his flat without paying much attention. When he noticed, he was already unlocking the door with his key and stepping inside. And, as soon as he did so, he heard it. Sobs coming from the office. That was...bizarre. Could it be Hastur? Had he figured out a way to leave the answering machine, and now he was crying over Ligur? Crowley almost laughed at himself with such a thought. Hastur? Crying? Now, that would be a sight he would pay to see.

Still, in the name of caution, he slowly made his way to the office, trying to be as silent as possible, when he quickly spotted the angel he had been looking for throught the wide open door, sitting on the floor besides the throne, arms around himself and face hidden while his whole body shook and heartbreaking sobs escaped his vocal chords.

Carefully and confused, he approached, stopping short of the door.

"...Angel?"

Aziraphale's head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes, his face marked by tears.

"...Crowley?"

"Yeah." He slowly walked his way to the angel, careful not to step on Ligur, squatting in front of him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He was still staring at him with clear confusing in his eyes, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly until he finally appeared to have found his voice again:

"You-! The-!" Aziraphale's body trembled, looking over Crowley's shoulder and then back at the demon. "You...you're gone!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I just went to the bookshop searching for you, but when I arrived you weren't there already." Aziraphale shook his head, some more tears escaping his eyes along with a single sob. "Hey, hey." Crowley placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "What's-?" And then that's when it suddenly clicked inside his head. He looked up at the empty thermos on his desk and back over his shoulder to what remained of Ligur. "Oh, Aziraphale. No, no, no." His hands moved up to Aziraphale's face, forcing him to look up at him, his thumb brushing away some of the new tears running down his face. It burned considerably; angel tears were holy water after all, but right now, that wasn't his focus. "That's Ligur. I used the holy water to make a trap for him and Hastur when they came to take me." He brushes his thumb through Aziraphale's trembling lips, leaning in closer. "That's not me, angel. I'm alright."

Aziraphale sniffed, trying to regain control of himself, but failing miserably.

"I-I thought you were dead. I thought you had used the Holy Water. I thought-"

"Shhh." Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, leaning his face against his, pulling him into an embrace. They had never hugged before, so it felt a bit strange. Awkward even. "I'm right here. That's not me." The angel grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, burying his face on the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths. "Yeah, that's it. Breathe." He ran his hand through his curls, trying to soothe him. "Everything is alright. I'm right here."

After a while, Aziraphale finally calmed down and moved away, just enough to be able to look at Crowley's face. For a moment or two, they just stared at each other. Aziraphale's red rimmed blue eyes looking right at Crowley's yellow ones; his sunglasses had ended up on his head at some point. The angel's eyes slipped down to the demon's lips for a second and Crowley's licked them involuntarily, before his gaze went back to his eyes.

"You were right." Crowley tilted his head in confusion. "I talked to the Metraton. They want the war to happen...The Anti-Christ..." Aziraphale mumbled those last words.

"Right." Crowley stared down at Aziraphale for a couple more seconds before getting up, offering his hand to the angel to help him do the same. "You said you knew where he was?"

[13uswntimagines]

13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think 

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird. 

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you. 

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice. 

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them. 

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew. 

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves. 

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask. 

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you. 

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight. 

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland. 

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other. 

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction. 

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again. 

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face. 

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,” 

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head. 

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations. 

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been. 

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime. 

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team. 

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,” 

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,” 

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,” 

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin. 

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey. 

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes. 

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces. 

You didn’t need to see it. 

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,” 

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills. 

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true. 

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you. 

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. 

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help. 

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group. 

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you. 

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill. 

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path. 

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,” 

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,” 

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much. 

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby. 

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged. 

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal. 

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out. 

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands. 

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head. 

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner. 

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork. 

“Not bad,” 

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT. 

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again. 

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you. 

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,” 

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,” 

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,” 

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that. 

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,” 

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot. 

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back. 

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up. 

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal. 

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel. 

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup. 

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish. 

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net. 

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options. 

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much. 

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio? 

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot. 

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,” 

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out). 

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics. 

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do. 

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick. 

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look. 

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play. 

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick. 

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot. 

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips. 

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second. 

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes. 

At least someone else saw it too. 

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,” 

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team. 

You would take any help you could get. 

 *****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you. 

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower. 

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her. 

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender.  “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did. 

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley. 

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,” 

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together. 

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone. 

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,” 

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,” 

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,” 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before. 

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,” 

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table. 

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks. 

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,” 

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you. 

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop. 

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,” 

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,” 

“She’s my friend,” You muttered. 

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,” 

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,” 

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted. 

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,” 

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again. 

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted. 

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer. 

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York. 

 “At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”  

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed. 

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her. 

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too. 

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal. 

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,” 

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,” 

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,” 

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter. 

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,” 

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. 

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her. 

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down. 

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,” 

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat. 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair. 

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,” 

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid. 

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it. 

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth. 

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it. 

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness. 

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping. 

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,” 

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite. 

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list. 

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you. 

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,” 

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes. 

You couldn’t meet her eyes. 

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced. 

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much. 

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you. 

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you. 

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,” 

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,” 

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself. 

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,” 

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,” 

Alex nodded. 

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia. 

But she could see that you were not fine. 

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it. 

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,” 

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand. 

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot. 

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,” 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,” 

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes. 

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to. 

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old. 

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics. 

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening. 

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,” 

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot. 

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions. 

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest. 

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability. 

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,” 

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,” 

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle. 

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work. 

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help. 

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed. 

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,” 

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer. 

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio. 

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,” 

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that. 

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses. 

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,” 

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time. 

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,” 

You hummed, turning away. 

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal. 

But she wished it didn’t sting as much. 

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast. 

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying. 

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough. 

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York. 

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip. 

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk. 

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,” 

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,” 

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,” 

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense. 

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove. 

You had everything to prove. 

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,” 

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,” 

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team. 

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset. 

You had proven them wrong. 

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone. 

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor. 

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio. 

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team. 

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently. 

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?” 

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,” 

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,” 

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second. 

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?” 

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question. 

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started. 

It was the nice thing about camp. 

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you. 

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing. 

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you. 

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was. 

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in? 

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call. 

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand.  “come on,” 

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”  

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen. 

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,” 

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,” 

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought. 

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend. 

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness. 

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal. 

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back. 

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there. 

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue. 

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration. 

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York. 

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable. 

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.  

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor. 

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship. 

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled. 

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor. 

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder. 

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease. 

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,” 

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,” 

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting. 

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,” 

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise. 

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,” 

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,” 

You didn’t want to be too… forward. 

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same. 

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,” 

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested. 

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably. 

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche. 

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it. 

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,” 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,”  She said, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,” 

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates. 

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot. 

Taylor was your friend. 

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,” 

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her. 

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,” 

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching. 

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks. 

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind. 

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass. 

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar. 

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling. 

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away. 

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor. 

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,” 

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second. 

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone. 

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles. 

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes. 

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge. 

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said. 

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips. 

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it. 

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously. 

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

 “I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip. 

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,” 

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass. 

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded. 

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18. 

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,” 

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed. 

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects. 

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship. 

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,” 

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,” 

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message. 

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again. 

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head. 

But this was different. 

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted. 

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to. 

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly, 

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” 

Taylor bit her lip. 

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was. 

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,” 

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” 

“Thanks,” 

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading. 

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on. 

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it. 

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans. 

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway. 

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist. 

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest. 

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door. 

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate. 

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls. 

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her. 

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door. 

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat. 

“Is Y/n here?” 

Her voice came out shaky, horse. 

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope. 

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively. 

“Oh,” 

Taylor’s whole being deflated. 

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?” 

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends. 

Why had you lied? 

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it. 

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,” 

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out. 

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,” 

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. 

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin? 

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting. 

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you. 

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,” 

“Thanks,” 

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand. 

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,” 

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise. 

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin. 

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had. 

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange. 

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you. 

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show. 

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust. 

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater. 

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt. 

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do. 

“Y/n,” 

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater. 

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio. 

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear. 

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo. 

“Y/n,” 

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned. 

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well. 

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you. 

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?” 

“I need to talk to you,” 

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,” 

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway. 

At least the 51st station was heated. 

“Y/n wait,” 

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you. 

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her. 

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young. 

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway. 

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence. 

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain. 

It was like your brain had short-circuited. 

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her. 

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,” 

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes. 

Taylor kissed you. 

She kissed you in the rain. 

Taylor liked you. 

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything. 

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

 Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss. 

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces. 

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs. 

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90. 

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again. 

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows. 

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through. 

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,” 

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,” 

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket. 

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold. 

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor. 

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,” 

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it. 

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,” 

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,” 

You raised an eyebrow at her. 

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car. 

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam. 

You shut down that thought. 

It didn’t matter. 

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper. 

You didn’t feel cold. 

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,” 

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. ���Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,” 

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll. 

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek. 

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips. 

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her. 

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head. 

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you 

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again. 

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt. 

Maybe Emily was right. 

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet. 

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender. 

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else. 

But she couldn’t want you. 

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice. 

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees. 

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you. 

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint. 

But maybe she did want you. 

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking. 

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room. 

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place. 

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,” 

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?” 

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,” 

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,” 

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,” 

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie. 

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,” 

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you. 

Except… 

your eyes closed. 

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain. 

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say. 

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister. 

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it. 

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?” 

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little. 

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you. 

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,” 

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget. 

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong. 

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality. 

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about. 

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing. 

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.  

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,” 

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly. 

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior. 

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed. 

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave. 

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air, 

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home. 

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east. 

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants. 

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning. 

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood. 

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces. 

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win. 

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you. 

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged. 

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way. 

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots. 

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,” 

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them. 

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it. 

No one else had to know that. 

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight. 

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam. 

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you. 

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off. 

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats. 

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,” 

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower. 

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,” 

You met her eyes, swallowing hard. 

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her. 

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy. 

It didn’t have to be complicated. 

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,” 

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair. 

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,” 

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett. 

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door. 

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,” 

Before slamming the locker room door shut. 

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you. 

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages. 

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to. 

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code. 

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone. 

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway. 

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her. 

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet. 

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there. 

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized. 

“Hey hotshot,” 

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view. 

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants. 

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it. 

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own. 

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features. 

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes. 

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,” 

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes. 

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own. 

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you. 

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game. 

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly. 

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,” 

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to. 

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours. 

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug. 

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you. 

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,” 

It was true. 

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones. 

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain. 

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,” 

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble. 

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?” 

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,” 

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can. 

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand. 

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks. 

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless. 

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back. 

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway. 

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh. 

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car. 

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity. 

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment. 

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well. 

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door. 

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you. 

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable. 

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain. 

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point. 

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.  

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,” 

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it).  “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster. 

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern. 

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her. 

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you. 

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,” 

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker. 

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,” 

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water. 

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool. 

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings. 

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm. 

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words. 

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom. 

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor. 

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool. 

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish. 

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes. 

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,” 

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there. 

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear. 

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone. 

Not even Mal. 

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water. 

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,” 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,” 

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?” 

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss. 

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her. 

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor. 

It was sweet and spicy and addictive. 

And it made you want her. 

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations. 

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin. 

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning. 

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer. 

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you. 

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,” 

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,” 

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm. 

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off. 

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer. 

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off. 

Except it’s where your mind always went. 

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers. 

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable. 

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin. 

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted. 

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface. 

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold. 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,” 

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,” 

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool. 

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,” 

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom. 

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets. 

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,” 

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,” 

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left). 

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen. 

There had to be something fucking wrong with you. 

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach. 

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet. 

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change. 

You took another deep breath. 

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse. 

You could be normal. 

You could save your friendship. 

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom. 

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,” 

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,” 

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,” 

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water. 

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip. 

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle. 

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,” 

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,” 

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. 

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,” 

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,” 

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you 

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers. 

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder. 

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs. 

Safe territory. 

Territory that put you in control of the pace. 

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front. 

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass. 

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time. 

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point. 

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach. 

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff. 

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue. 

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,” 

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple 

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her. 

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line. 

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward. 

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub. 

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down. 

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,” 

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach. 

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,” 

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,” 

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,” 

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek. 

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her. 

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done. 

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask. 

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,” 

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,” 

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?” 

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,” 

It was the truth. 

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way. 

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead. 

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all. 

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite. 

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams. 

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours. 

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you. 

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for. 

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back. 

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup. 

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup. 

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-. 

You let out a long breath from your nose. 

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that. 

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that. 

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin. 

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,” 

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,” 

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces. 

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her. 

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave. 

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return. 

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight. 

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you. 

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her. 

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,” 

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign. 

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it. 

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway. 

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you. 

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it. 

“And you thought I’d want to talk,” 

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face. 

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team. 

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that. 

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor. 

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?” 

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way. 

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,” 

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her. 

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before. 

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with. 

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head. 

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine. 

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed. 

She was still your friend. 

You spat the word in your mind. 

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor. 

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you. 

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer. 

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,” 

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did. 

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?” 

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,” 

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,” 

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected. 

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.” 

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop. 

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,” 

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off. 

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on. 

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence. 

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish. 

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,” 

“But the middle?” She asked. 

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck. 

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel. 

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk. 

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut. 

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started. 

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood. 

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running. 

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again. 

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,” 

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind. 

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence. 

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go. 

You swallowed hard and matched her nod. 

You could do slow steps. 

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street. 

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you. 

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?” 

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,” 

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited. 

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway. 

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you. 

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup. 

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work. 

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver. 

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery. 

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no. 

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes.  “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?” 

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,” 

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?” 

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears. 

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you. 

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,” 

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend. 

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you. 

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that. 

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm. 

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,” 

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow. 

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened. 

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?” 

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment. 

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,” 

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed. 

How would things change? What would she expect? 

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest. 

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her. 

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady. 

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,” 

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head. 

It didn’t have to be complicated.