#the first time he actually had hope that maybe he could save more than 2 people... ohhhhhhhhhhhhhweay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenimmadolla · 9 months ago

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𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort.

Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door.

“Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it.

Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you.

Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

“Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

“Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

“So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

Interesting.

“No brains?”

Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.”

Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

Why you? What did he want with you?

You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

“What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you.

It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

“That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans.

While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals.

You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive.

“UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm.

With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

“Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering.

Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

“So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up.

Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

“Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

“Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

You’d made him cry.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate.

“MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall.

You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

“There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

“SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

“Are you laughing at me?”

He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

“Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers.

“Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

“You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you.

You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

“You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

“Uunngh.”

You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

“That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

“UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

“What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

“They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

He just blinked, almost owlishly.

Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

“The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

“Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact.

“Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

“You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

“You tryna knock me dead, too?”

When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound.

With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

“Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror.

“Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

“Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound.

“Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

“I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

“WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name.

“I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

“I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

“You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

“Me?! I didn’t do this!”

“Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

“The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

“Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

“Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

“Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

“Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

“I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

“She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

“Daddy…”

“Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!”

You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself.

“Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward.

Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

“She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

“No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this.

You’d have a loving parent.

You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do.

Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it.

The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life.

Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

“I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

“Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

“We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

“Dang—anything else?”

“Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside.

Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

You were wrong.

The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous.

You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

“Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

“You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors.

You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance.

He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering.

Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore.

You found him.

Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

He understood the sentiment all too well.

Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead.

And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

I wish I was with you.

You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave.

Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple.

No sign of his uncle.

It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded.

Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct.

He knew where to go after.

Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all.

Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him.

He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests.

So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be.

The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you.

He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery.

FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze.

It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left.

Eddie heard a scoff.

“How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself.

Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around.

The fuck was she doing in here?

It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through.

Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings.

She was invading your privacy.

If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling.

He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either.

Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse.

If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip.

Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made.

Bitch.

Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day.

See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of. Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

“Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned.

He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

“Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

“Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure.

“Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

“I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her.

Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

Served the hag right.

With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream.

That one was for you.

Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision.

While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did.

You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive.

Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

“You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

Oh, god. Just play it cool.

“Just some tampons and some chips.”

Leave. Walk out. Save face.

“No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk.

You were going for it.

“Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

“I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve.

You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

“Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

“I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

“That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

“And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

“I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

“Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.”

Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

“You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

“And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off.

She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

“She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV.

You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life.

“Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed.

At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you.

You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

But it was yours.

When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs.

You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

“Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

“Uuungh?”

You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

“I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

“Unngh.” He grunted in thanks.

As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

“Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

“He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling.

“You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions.

“There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population.

“Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand.

“What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

“I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

“MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

“Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

Laura.

“SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

And for once, she scared you.

“Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

Stepmother from hell, indeed.

“Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured.

You took a small step back. She took one forward.

“I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick.

“Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

“ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction.

“Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

“Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

“Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life.

Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

“I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed.

“No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

“It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

THUNK.

Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red.

Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet.

You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

“Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

“Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs.

Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it.

After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it.

“Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you.

He shook his head.

“Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work.

Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head.

“Mm-mm.”

You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice.

He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even.

It felt…like you mattered to someone.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs.

“At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.”

He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way.

“Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

“Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand.

“What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb.

Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger.

“Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you.

Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle.

A lightning bolt.

Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

And then it hit you. Lightning.

“OH.”

Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

“But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it.

It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure.

You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual.

The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

“Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

“Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

No reaction.

“EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

“Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!”

You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad.

The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

Well, you’d already started.

“I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

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juyeonszn · 1 year ago

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BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU’RE INVITED!

PAIRING tbz x f!reader

GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒minimal angst ﹒crack

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mature language, mentions of alcohol, sexual content, more warnings per individual fic!

SUMMARY have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? if so, then these fics are just for you! join us as we take a glimpse into the tau beta zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE LETS GAURRRRR i’m so excited to announce this collab with loml reese both as a cute fun little idea we had and in celebration of her 1 year tumblr anniversary! we also realized it happened to be the same day as tbz day LOL so that’s kinda crazy 😭 my boyz have been here for 6 years wow 💔 anyways i hope all of u love these as much as we do! and always, don’t forget to rb if u enjoyed!! send an ask if u’d like to be tagged in these <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of school work for you.

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

“FRIENDLY” COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

PARTY O’CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 1/1, PT. 2 1/3)

It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

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13uswntimagines · 10 months ago

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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.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #13 eras of us

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bloomyeu · 4 months ago

Text

with or without you

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: bottling you're feelings for so long, it begins to hurt. until you mention it.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, (no) comfort, not edited

a/n: first fic :p lmk if u liked it hehe

part 2 | masterlist | requests

Love was something you always chased, yearning to feel what people experienced in the movies —the flowers, the kisses, the gifts, that meaningful connection that seems to exist only for a lucky few.

So when you met Chan, it was as if everything blossomed like flowers in spring.

It had started with little things, when chan would mention how much he missed you he on tour

ynnieeee haiiiii

hi channie!

hiiheyyy imithu smmsmsm

bfrjjd i do 2

ur back next week right?

yaya i am, we need to meet up once im back

movie night?

movie night.

You clung to these exchanges, even as you realized they might mean more to you than they did to him.

☄. *. ⋆

there were the times when you both were together, physically close yet emotionally worlds apart. You would catch glimpses of his smile, and your heart would race, but he never noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long. He would tell you stories from concerts, his voice animated and bright, while you hung onto every word, even the ones that hinted at someone else who made him smile that way.

"You know, you always manage to pull me out of a slump," Chan said with a yawn, his voice laced with gratitude.

"Well, I'm glad I can help. You could basically call me your muse," you replied with a light chuckle, the words teasing yet sincere.

"Yeah, you're definitely my muse," he agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips before he turned back to work. You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a warmth spread through you, knowing that he was your muse too.

As the days went by, your feelings only deepened, even as you tried to push them away.

You would lie awake at night, replaying every conversation, every laugh, every moment, searching for signs that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

But each time, you were met with the cold realization that his affection was platonic, kind, and distant, while yours was anything but.

“Chan, have you ever fallen in love?”

“Um, once, but it was a while back. Why?”

“No reason. I’v just always wondered what it feels like to be in that state of mind.”

“Well, it feels like…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It feels like everything else fades away, and all that matters is that person. Like you’re finally complete, you know?”

“Must be nice,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” he replied softly.

“So… no one on your mind right now?”

“Nope. You?”

You stared at him for a moment, heart pounding as you fought the urge to tell him the truth.

“Um, no… but maybe one day,” you said, forcing a smile.

☄. *. ⋆

As the months passed by, you found yourself lost in thoughts of him—his smile, his kindness, and all the love he had to give. The ache of missing him became a constant companion, a reminder of the feelings you harbored in silence.

With lunch in hand and a hopeful heart, you made your way to his studio. The anticipation of seeing him again sparked a mix of excitement and anxiety. You approached the studio’s entrance, eager to surprise him, when you nearly bumped into Felix, who was just leaving. “Hey, Lix! I haven’t seen you in forever!” you greeted, trying to mask your anxiety with a bright smile. “Hi, Yn! What are you doing here?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. “Oh, I’m just dropping off lunch for Chan. I haven’t seen him in so long and thought, why not surprise him, you know?” you replied, your excitement tinged with a hint of nervousness. Felix’s expression shifted subtly, his smile fading into a more thoughtful look. “Ah… maybe it’s better to save the surprise for another time,” he suggested gently. “Can you believe it? He finally has a girl in the studio! I’m actually happy for him—he’s really opening up and putting himself first for the first time since iv met him ahaha”

The words hit you like a cold wave. You tried to keep your composure, but inside, a mixture of confusion and heartache swirled. “A girl?” you echoed, struggling to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t realize…”

Felix nodded, his eyes soft with understanding. “Yeah, it’s new. But I think it’s a good thing. Chan’s been so focused on work and producing, and now he’s letting someone in. It’s nice to see him happy.”

You forced a smile, your heart sinking. “That’s… really good to hear. I’m happy for him, too.”

Felix gave you a sympathetic look. “If you want to talk or need anything, I’m here. You know we all are.”

You nodded, grateful for the kindness but feeling a profound sadness. “Thanks, Felix. I appreciate that.”

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the studio, the weight of Felix’s words settling over you. The lunch you’d brought now felt like a symbol of a hope that had been dashed. As you walked away, you tried to focus on the positive—on Chan’s happiness—but the realization that your feelings might never be reciprocated made the day feel heavier than it had before.

☄. *. ⋆

Although the two couldn't have been more apart, your feelings had just continued to grow.

Winter had finally rolled around, bringing with it the warmth of the annual Christmas party Minho would host. The past few months had felt like a fever dream, with your feelings for Chan growing ever more consuming. The holidays, usually a time of cheer, now felt tinged with an undercurrent of longing.

As you walked into the party, the festive lights and laughter offered a brief distraction. You scanned the room until you spotted Chan across the crowded space. With a deep breath, you approached him, your heart racing with anticipation.

“Hiya, Channie! It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” you greeted, trying to keep your voice light despite the fluttering in your chest.

“Yeah, it has. My god, I’ve missed you,” he replied, pulling you into a warm hug. As you nestled against him, you felt your heart clench, overwhelmed by a mixture of joy and sadness.

“I’ve actually been meaning to tell you something,” you began, hesitating as you tried to steady your nerves.

“Me too, actually,” Chan said with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “I hope it’s good news.”

“It always is,” you replied with a nervous laugh. “Well, tell me first.”

“No, you go first,” he insisted, a playful glint in his eye.

“Okay” you said with a soft smile. “Well I finally got tickets to the Wave to Earth concert in Seoul—that band I’ve been hooked on.”

Chan’s eyes widened in surprise and delight. “Oh, that sounds amazing! I’d love to. But… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you too.”

You felt a slight tightening in your chest, hoping for a revelation that might mirror your own feelings. “What is it?”

“Well, I finally have a girlfriend,” Chan said, his voice softening with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “Or, well, I’m planning to ask her soon. I’m really excited about it.”

The words hit you like a cold wave, and you struggled to maintain your smile. “Oh,” was all you could manage, your heart sinking as you tried to process the news.

“What were you going to say before I interrupted you?” Chan asked, his gaze gentle.

“Oh, um, just that you should go to the concert with me, I know much you love music” you replied, forcing enthusiasm into your voice despite the ache in your heart. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

Chan’s smile was warm but distant. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it too.”

As the conversation shifted and Chan’s attention drifted to others, you found yourself standing on the periphery, the failed attempt at asking him out now overshadowed by the quiet sting of rejection. The realization that Chan’s heart was set on someone else cast a shadow over the festive atmosphere, leaving you to navigate the mingling feelings of friendship and unspoken longing. The party’s warmth felt like a cruel contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside.

fin.

part 2 | masterlist | requests

#bang chan #bang chan angst #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan angst #skz x reader #skz angst #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #meimei works ౨ৎ

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itsbeeble · 1 year ago

Text

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU'RE INVITED!

PAIRINGS: tbz x f!reader

GENRES: smut, fluff, minimal angst, crack

WARNINGS: smut, minor angst, fluff, mentions of injuries, alcohol, swearing, more warnings to be added to the individual fics 18+ MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

SUMMARY: Have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? If so, then these fics are just for you! Join us as we take a glimpse into the Tau Beta Zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE: The way me and Fawn have been planning this for so long omgggg. Me and Fawn are so excited to announce this collab in celebration of my 1 year on tumblr, 6 year anniversary of The Boyz, AND as just a fun little event!! I hope you guys are as excited for this as I am hehe. And please feel free to send an ask or comment on this post if you'd like to be tagged in each part!!

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

"FRIENDLY" COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

PARTY O'CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 | PT. 2)

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lovebeinaprincessworld · 2 years ago

Text

Unusual Love (Cato Hadley x reader)

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Description: Your chances of winning the games were zero, but you would have thought the chances of falling in love with a Career would’ve been even lower.

Warnings: first time, p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, cum, talk of death, no protection

8811 words

This was the material of all the nightmares you had as a child. Except this time you wouldn’t wake up, that you were sure of. You hadn’t been shocked when no one volunteered when your name was called at the reaping, you lived in District 8 after all, but you had still hoped in the back of your mind. You weren’t even going to make it through the first day in the arena, that much was certain, and thinking about how this would have been your second to last reaping before you would have been save, made you feel defeated already.

You were good at what you were doing in your district, you were relatively short and your small hands were perfect for embroidering. But the skills you learned in your textile industry heavy home, wouldn’t help you killing other people. Not that you thought you would be able to actually end somebody else’s life. Trying to find allies would probably prove difficult too, you were too shy and didn’t bring any helpful skills to the table anyway.

So now that you were on the train to the Capitol and saw the reaping in the other districts, you accepted your chances were zero. The boy from your district was a year younger than you, 16 and he was so arrogant. If you remembered correctly his name was Taron. He acted as if he was too good for all of this, eventhough you could see he was scared. But you did your best to steer clear of him, especially after one ‚accidental‘ grab of your butt earlier at the meeting with your mentors. You really didn’t need that right now.

Your mentors Woof and Cecelia seemed alright, maybe you could learn a few skills just so you could escape the brutal deaths at the cornucopia. You leaned back in your seat, watching the world fly by outside and you tried not to cry (again) as you thought of your younger brother and parents back at home.

———————

When the door to your bedroom on the eighth level of the building finally shut, you fell onto the bed with an exhausted huff. You felt like a plucked chicken, your skin almost uncomfortably clean and scrubbed. Your stylist seemed nice enough, she was a little too much of course - like everyone in the capitol - but she didn’t seem to be excited at the idea of sending you off to get murdered. You had about two hours before they would pick you up to get dressed and styled for the parade, and you intended to try and not think about all the ways you could die in a weeks time.

You had to admit, the costumes Aspasia designed for you were really fitting for your district. She picked the most eyecatching fabric and surprisingly made a very simple but stunningly flattering dress for you. It hugged your body in the all the right places and was dramatic, but the focus was still on the eyecatching fabric. Your hair was styled in a half up half down hairdo, flowing over your back in soft waves. You definitely felt like a princess, and you were grateful to Aspasia that she didn’t dress you as a glittering sewing needle or some stupid stuff.

Taron hovered close to you when you stood next to the chariot you were supposed to drive out there on. His presence always gave you the ick, he seemed to try and make the most of his last days and you were doing your best to avoid him whenever you could. Suddenly you felt an intense stare on the side of your face, and when you looked over to your right, you saw it was the tall blonde Career from District 2.

Your heart immediately started to speed up, his stare wasn’t necessarily predatory but in that moment you were sure he was thinking about how easy you were to kill. You did have to note that he was very handsome, but probably just as deadly - if not more - so you quickly broke the eyecontact and tried to reign in your blush.

You couldn’t have been further from the truth though, Cato wasn’t planning on how to kill you, he was just very good at not showing emotions. In reality he was stunned by how beautiful you looked, he had seen your reaping and thought you were cute but the dress you wore made you practically glow, his heart betraying his mind and beating harder in his chest when your eyes met. When you blushed he felt something stir inside of him, but he quickly shook it off. This was stupid, you were only some easy to kill tribute from a lower district - at least he tried to convince himself of that.

—————————

You were up early the next day, you were so nervous for the first day of training and especially scared to meet the other tributes for real. God, what if you embarrassed yourself, you were sure to be a number one target of they saw how useless you were. Woof and Cecelia advised you to concentrate on survival skills rather than fighting, finding water and food was more important than knowing how to use a knife - at least in your case.

You tried to blend into the background, and you were succeeding for the most part. There was only one pair of eyes you couldn’t seem to shake and it was the same as the evening before. Why was he staring at you so much? You were getting so flustered from his stare that you couldn’t concentrate on anything. You were currently hiding out at the fire station, and you were glad he seemed to be occupied by sword training, because his attention was making you feel things you shouldn’t - things you were sure were a figment of your imagination anyway.

You were failing at starting a fire pathetically and the instructor was helping a younger boy at the moment, but suddenly someone kneeled next to you. „You’re doing it wrong“, you winced and your head snapped up. It was the female tribute from district 12. „I know“, you sighed and finally gave up, putting down the stick. „Let me show you“, she was a little rough with her words but you were stunned that she even talked to you.

In minutes she had a fire going and you were slightly embarrassed because of your incompetence. „Come on, you try“, she urged you, pushing the utensils into your hands. It took a while longer than hers, but eventually you actually had a small fire. „I did it! Thank you“, you genuinely smiled at her, „Katniss right?“ She just nodded and got up, making her way to the station with the traps. Now that you weren’t distracted anymore, you could feel Catos eyes on you again.

But you were quickly distracted again, Taron moving into your personal space with a smirk. „Oh I see you did something there sweetheart“, he chuckled and patted your back encouragingly, making you cringe away slightly. „Don’t call me that“, you muttered and started to get up, but he grabbed your arm tightly. „Now, now I was only trying to be nice“, he tutted, god he was so condescending. You tried to shake him off again and to your relief he let you go with a roll of his eyes this time.

Cato had to gather all his self control to not rush over to the boy from your district and kill him already. He tried to entertain himself with the thought that he would be the first that would be killed by him. Definitely. The boy obviously made you uncomfortable and when he grabbed your arm, Cato couldn’t keep the frown off his face. Glimmer noticed. „What is it Cato?“, she followed his gaze and frowned too.

„That guy seems like such a slimy douchebag“, she seemed to think the same as him and now Clove noticed too. At least you managed to shake him off. „Yeah, I saw him trying to feel up the redhead from District 5“, she looked appalled and now Catos thoughts were only circling about what that boy tried to do when you were on your floor. He definitely needed to teach him a lesson somehow. He turned away from the scene with a grunt, picking up a sword and releasing his frustration on one of the dummies.

————————

You felt like you were suffocating, you just couldn’t fall asleep. You needed fresh air but the windows had no way of opening and the different views you could control with the remote did nothing for you. For the last hour you had been debating if you should risk taking the stairs you had seen the avox use earlier today and see if there’s a rooftop exit.

With a quiet sigh you threw back your cover, throwing on a sweater on top of your pajama and slipping on your shoes. You silently tiptoed across the floor towards the door, hoping that no one would be around to stop you. You opened the door carefully, not knowing what exactly was on the other side, but it was just an empty concrete staircase. You were looking over your shoulder a few times when you made your way upwards, nervously tugging the sleeves of your sweater down.

When you finally made it past door 12, you were greeted with a door that said ‚rooftop‘ and was already slightly ajar. You hestitated for a second, but what’s the worst that could happen? So you silently pushed the door open. There was a small windowless building on top, probably for ac-units, but otherwise it was empty. There was a railing and you were sure there were other protections against people jumping that were invisible.

You walked towards the small building, planning to sit behind it near the edge so you can lean against it. But when you rounded the corner you stopped abruptly. There already sat a figure, and now you were reprimanding yourself for not connecting the open door to someone being here. And when you looked closer you could see it was Cato, and he was already looking at you.

„S-sorry, I’ll just go“, you stumbled over your words, his intense gaze making you nervous once more. „Stay (Y/N)“, his voice was rough and he talked in such a demanding way that your body halted on its own. He knew your name? „Sit“, he instructed you and as if you had no will of your own (or maybe you actually wanted to be near him) you walked over to him slowly and sat down, keeping some distance between you.

You sat in tense silence and you stared out onto the skyline while you could feel his eyes roam over your face. „Couldn’t sleep either?“, he asked, his voice sending a shiver down your back. A good one. „No, I felt like I suffocated in there“, you sighed, your arms hugging your knees. „Me neither“, he chuckled and you finally gathered the courage to turn your head. His blue eyes were piercing yours, not in a threatening but in a curious way. You couldn’t fight the blush and caught his smirk before you looked forwards again.

„Why? Too much on your mind?“, you questioned, trying to fill the silence. He hummed affirmatively. „This is all really different from what I thought would happen“, he elborated, but you didn’t question him further, not wanting to pry. „Yeah“, you sighed, and you continued to sit in silence. But it wasn’t tense, it was kind of comforting.

„That boy, the one from your district“, Cato started, and he could see your face scrunch up a little. „Mhm what about him?“, you asked, turning your head and meeting his eyes once again and his stomach tingled pleasantly. „He’s bothering you“, he stated, it wasn’t a question, he knew that boy made you uncomfortable and it made his anger flare up again.

„Uhm yeah, kind of“, you were unsure why Cato would care about that, but he looked so good angry you could barely question it. „What did he do?“, his voice was a little strained, but he was good at masking his emotions, you had to give him that. „It‘s not that bad, he just seems to think he has to make the most out of his last days“, you shuddered when you thought about his grab on the train, thankfully he didn’t do that again.

„Did he touch you?“, he scooted closer to you, looking serious and you shrank back a little. „N-no…just one time, in the train he…“, you didn’t dare lie to him, you felt as though he could see right through you. „He what?“, his teeth were clenched and you answered him in a whisper: „He uhm grabbed my butt.“

Cato had to clench and unclench his fists to keep calm. He didn’t understand why he reacted that way to you being disrespected like that, but he couldn’t keep it suppressed anymore. He grumbled unhappily and leaned back against the wall behind him. His chest felt kind of restricted at the thought of another man touching you, and he was going crazy because of the inner war he was fighting. You and these new intense feelings on one side and his upbringing and what he thought he was supposed to do on the other.

——————

You didn’t feel his eyes on you as much the next day at training, but you still did from time to time. You were at the station were you could learn about poisonous plants when it happened. „Where the fuck is my knife 8? I left it right here!“, Cato barked at your male counterpart, making him visibly flinch. He tried to put on a brave facade though, squaring his shoulders. „I don’t have it“, Taron answered but the Career from District 2 just laughed and menacingly walked towards the much shorter other male.

„Fuck you, I know you’ve taken it!“, Cato growled at the now obviously terrified boy and grabbed his collar, and he could see the peacemakers started to walk towards them. He leaned in close and made the point he actually started all of this for. „If you ever touch (Y/N) again you’re dead, do you hear me?“, no one heard him but the boy in his grip and he nodded so hard he could have broken his neck with some bad luck.

You watched in shock as the two males were pulled apart, actually more like Cato was pulled off of Taron. Cato held his hands up in a peaceful manner and was let go with a warning, and when he turned and met your eyes, you swear he flashed a smile at you, making your heart pound and your face grow hot.

You turned back towards what you were doing before, but your concentration was gone. Your heart calmed down eventually, but you were realizing what this was developing into. You heard the adults in your district describe it and it felt just like that. You were starting to fall for the tall Carreer.

———————

You couldn’t resist the fresh air on the rooftop tonight - and maybe you were hoping to see Cato again. And you were lucky, he sat there in just the same spot. When he heard you walking towards him, he looked over and gave you a smile, a real genuine one for the first time. „Hey“, you smiled too, and he nodded as a greeting.

You sat down next to him, a little closer than yesterday. „How was dinner? Did Taron bother you?“, Cato looked curious and you raised your eyebrows in surprise. „No he left me alone for once…“, his face lit up with a satisfied smirk and you were unsure why he would suspect something changed, but then you remembered their alteration today.

„Cato“, you looked at him wide eyed and he felt the need to protect you flare up again at your innocent stare, the way you said his name made him feel the weakest he felt in years. „Mhm?“, he was still smirking, happy that he successfully scared the boy off. „There was no knife was there“, you worded it like a question, but he knew you figured it out. „Nah“, he chuckled and looked over the skyline.

Once your brain caught up with the fact that he scared off Taron to protect you, your heart was almost jumping out of your chest. Why would he protect you? He was a Career, he was trained to win this, to murder, why would he care about you in any way? Honestly you were even more touched because of that. „Thank you“, you whispered and your hand squeezed his biceps - his big and bulging biceps - automatically.

The feeling of your skin on his spread a fire through his body he didn’t know was possible. His head snapped towards you, and it seemed to startle you because you pulled your hand away. At least you tried to, but he didn’t want you to stop touching him, so he quickly grabbed your hand with his and interlaced your fingers, his grip firm but gentle. He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t either, but neither of you let go while you were sitting there together.

—————————

The fourth day at training you were surprised again, Cato actually approached you at where you were trying your best at painting your skin to camouflage. You had sat together yesterday too, holding hands again and your head had even slid onto his shoulder, but you would have never thought he would talk to you infront of the other tributes. Wouldn’t that damage his reputation? And that only a few days before entering the arena.

„That looks pretty good“, he was being nice, it didn’t look pretty good. You weren’t really talented at this either. The only thing you knew you were good at was climbing, you had climbed trees all your childhood and your small light frame was perfect for that. But your mentors told you to not show your strengths infront of the others, but rather work on your weaknesses.

„Uhm thanks, maybe it would work if it’s dark“, you tried to convince yourself at this point looking down at your arm and then put the brush down with a sigh. „What are you doing Cato?“, you looked at him in wonder. „I just…I wanted to talk to you“, he was clearly at a loss for words, and to see the strong scary Career like that - because of you! - made you smile. „Do you think that’s a good idea? Your…friends look equally confused and murderous“, you could see the three of them look at Cato like he was insane, the girl from his district looked like she wanted to throw the knife she was holding at your head right now.

„They’re not my friends“, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his muscles straining and you were flustered immediately. Why were you so unable to control yourself damn it. You didn’t look at him, but you could already envision that stupidly hot smirk. „How about I show you a few easy things with a knife hm?“, he nodded over to the weapons that you had been steering clear of until now.

„I-I don’t know I‘ve never…“, you tried to avoid embarrassing yourself but he cut you off by grabbing your arm and leading you over there, the other Careers still watching in shock. „Can’t hurt“, he shrugged and gave you a smaller knife, the object feeling foreign in your grip. You appreciated the thought and you felt it was really sweet of him to try and teach you but the only thing you wanted right now was for the floor to open up and swallow you.

———————

It wasn’t as much of an embarrassment as you thought it would be, after a few minutes the attention from the other tributes subsided eventually and Cato actually taught you a few moves, most of them selfdefense. Everytime he had you in his grip, you were blushing and he seemed to love it. You were pushing open the door to the rooftop again, glad you hadn’t been caught yet.

This time you were carrying a blanket, it was a little cold yesterday and you wanted to make sure you didn’t have to cut your time with him short. He perked up immediately when he heard you, a smile lighting up his face, and you were stunned that this was how you were spending your time before entering the arena - falling in love. Who were you kidding, you weren’t falling you already fell. It was a tragedy really.

But before you could dwell on it too much, you were close enough and to your surprise he took your hand and pulled you down in between his legs, your back to his chest and his arms around your waist. You were breathless for a second, but then remembered how to get air into your lungs and relaxed against him. You still didn’t remember how to talk though, so he took the blanket out of your hands gently and spread it over the two of you.

He couldn’t help but act on his urge to have you close, in three days you would enter the arena and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you - he was stunned by how intense his feelings were. He was supposed to be focused on winning this, that was what he had been trained for, being honour to his District. But with you in his arms like that, your hands softly settling on top of his, he couldn’t be interested any less in that. And it scared him just as much as it made him feel in love.

„Cato, what are we doing?“, your negative thoughts were back, you shifted slightly to look up into his face. He frowned and his grip on you tightened slightly. „What do you mean?“, he grunted and didn’t meet your eyes, he knew what you meant. „This, us“, you gestured between you two, „I mean, why are you so nice to me? Not that I don’t like it, I do, but it makes no sense.“

He closed his eyes for a second with a heavy sigh, he knew sooner or later that would come up. He had hoped for later. „I don’t know, I can’t help it“, he was really bad at voicing his feelings, he was taught that it’s a weakness, „you make me…feel things I’ve never felt before.“ You heart was beating so fast you could hear the blood rush in your ears. You knew that for him that was a crazy emotional thing to admit.

„I feel it too“, you smiled, but that smile turned sad quickly and you sighed, „but you realize that…I mean we’ll enter the arena soon.“ You leaned back, your head against his shoulder and it felt like this was the only place in the Capitol you were safe.

„I’ll protect you“, he grumbled, the thought of what could and would happen in the arena made him sick, not excited as it had before. „There’s only one winner Cato“, you whispered, „ and it’s never going to be me, I’m probably the first that gets killed.“ It was almost painful to hear you say that, and only your soft grip on his hands kept him grounded. „You won’t“, he was sure he could protect you, and if it came to it, maybe he would even sacrifice himself so you could live. He was momentarily stunned by the intensity of that thought, but it was true nonetheless.

„What about the other Careers? Aren’t they your allies? They already look like they would like to kill me“, you saw how he got more agitated, „I don’t…I don’t want you to feel responsible for me, I kind of accepted my death the moment my name was called, we should just-“ He interrupted you in a way you never would have thought you got to experience before dying in the arena.

He kissed you. It was a little rough because of his anger but his lips were so soft, and your whole body was tingling pleasantly. After the initial shock you turned in his arms, your hand lacing behind his neck and your reciprocated the kiss gently. You were basically straddling him, but the thight grip he had on your hips let you know it was fine. His lips moved against yours carefully but he was definitely leading the kiss, his demanding and dominant nature making you feel some type of way.

Cato couldn’t believe he was kissing you, he hadn’t felt this good in years. He had kissed - and done other things with - girls before you, but it never ever came even close to what this innocent kiss made him feel. All thoughts of you or him dying were pushed aside for now, he just focused on you. After a few more moments he pulled away breathlessly, opening his eyes and studying your face. You were panting too, you eyes still closed and your pretty lips a little swollen, you were unbelievably beautiful in this moment. „I will protect you“, he repeated himself, not leaving any space for protest before he kissed you again, with a little more passion this time.

———————

Cato had been all over you on the fifth day of training, he didn’t leave your side, just once and only to perfect what he would show tomorrow. That gave you a little time to breathe, he was determined to teach you as much as possible, ignoring all the looks you two were getting. You were once again hiding at the fire station, not from Catos eyes but from the others this time.

„That looks much better than your first attempt“, the voice of the girl from district 12 startled you, she sat down next to you and watched the other tributes in the hall. „Thanks, I had a good teacher“, you smiled, at least someone here was decent to you - and didn’t outright look ready to kill you or was terrified because of Catos presence.

Katniss didn’t know why she approached you again, she didn’t really want any allies but your gentle nature reminded her of Prim - eventhough you were older. She was also a little relieved to talk to someone other than Effie, Haymitch and Peeta, even if it was just superficial smalltalk. The training days were starting to become a little dull. „Cato looks like he’s about to kill me“, she noticed the scary Careers stare on her now that she was close to you.

„Sorry about that“, you sighed, your fire long forgotten. „Don’t be, he’s worried for you, it’s…surprising but nice to see there is something good left in this place“, she shrugged, meeting your eyes and you nodded in agreement. You were surprised the girl talked to you, but she was nice enough. „You want me to show you how to set up a simple trap?“, she offered and you were surprised again. „Yeah sure! That would be great“, you followed her immediately, knowing that a skill like that could come in handy.

„Yeah good, just pull that string a little tighter“, she pointed to the one on the left, and you fixed it quickly. „That looks right“, she nodded, and you were a little proud you actually did it. „Thanks Katniss, you’re a good teacher“, you were happy about her company, she was a little cold but still nice. „I’ll leave you to your Career“, the ghost of a smile dashed over he face and she was gone, her place quickly filled by Cato.

„What was that?“, he sat down next to you, scowling at the retreating girl. „She showed me how to make a trap“, you pointed in front of you and he grumbled a little. „Don’t be like that, she is nice“, you rolled your eyes and the frown on his face deepend. „How about you? Ready for tomorrow?“, you tried to distract him, you didn’t want to argue about this.

„Yeah“, he was gruff but you didn’t take it personally, that’s just how he was. „Good“, you gave him a soft smile, and it seemed like that did relax him a little. „Are you ready too?“, he looked a little worried again and you saw his hand reach out for you before he dropped it again, it wouldn’t be very smart to display affection like that infront of the other tributes - they were suspicious enough as it was.

„I am, Cecelia told me not to show the others what I can do so I couldn’t practice it though“, at that he raised his brows in surprise. „What? You thought there was nothing I’m good at?“, you asked giggling and he smiled too. „No, no, I’m just curious now“, he stood up swiftly, pulling you up along with him. „Come on, I’ll teach you some more“, he decided.

———————

You were laying in his arms again, his face buried in your neck and you fingers interlaced gently. „I talked to the others today“, he suddenly said, his voice against your neck making you fidget slightly. „About what?“, you asked, his head sliding out of your neck and watching your face instead.

„They still want me to be their ally, and they promised to leave you alone“, he seemed unsure of your reaction, but he was calm nonetheless. „What?“, you were shocked, the glares you always got from them - especially Glimmer - would have never let you guess they would agree to not kill you. Than again, their chances were multiplying with Cato on their side, he was probably the strongest tribute this year.

„I told you I would protect you in there and I meant that, you are…very important to me“, he was mumbling quietly at the end, but you still heard him. „You’re important to me too, but Cato I mean realistically…what if it comes down to us two? I don’t want you to have to ki-”, he interrupted you angrily. „Don’t say that!“, his voice became louder and suddenly had an edge to it, but he took a deep breath and took your cheek into his hand, „don’t…don’t say that, please. We‘ll think about that when the time comes.“

You gently laid your hand on top of the one that was still holding your cheek and only managed to nod. Instead of trying to find the right words, you just leaned in, pressing your lips to his softly and closing your eyes. He immediately pulled you closer, reciprocating and moving his lips in sync with yours, your lips fit together perfectly.

Your taste made his senses go into overdrive, his tongue slowly tracing your lips and sliding in between them. When he sat up there with you, being this close, he could forget the future that was ahead for a few moments. When you held onto him like that it made him feel comfortable, a possessiveness and need to protect you fall over him. Contrary to Glimmer who had hung onto him the first day of training. That girl had made his skin crawl.

————————

You were sitting infront of the TV with your mentors and Taron, Aspasia and Tarons stylist being there too. You were anxiously awaiting your rating, you had given your best to quickly move and climb around the obstacles, being as swift and silent as possible and showing what you got. You had also shown some of your survival skills and skills that involved plants, so you hoped all in all it would be enough for a decent rating

Cato had sat with you when you were waiting to be called on, he was the third one that had to go but it was still nice to have some support. He obviously got a high ranking - a 10 to be exact - and you were honestly very proud of him, god you were so in love. District 7 was just finished when they put your picture on an you were nervously moving on the couch. „(Y/N) (Y/L/N) from District 8 with a rating of…7.“ Oh wow, that was so much better than you thought.

„That’s great! Good job“, Woof clapped you on the back hard and you just had to smile. „Taron Hunlor from District 8 with a rating of…5“, you were surprised he was worse than you, but then again you hadn’t seen him do anything useful at training. „That’s good!“, Cecelia tried to congratulate him, but he got up with a grunt and went to his room.

You were the first on the roof today, and after half an hour you had nearly given up hope that you would see Cato today, but then you finally heard the door open and he rounded the corner slightly out of breath. You beamed up at him and he immediately picked you up, the blanket tumbling to the floor. You squealed slightly at the way he manhandled you - but it also made you feel a little hot.

He sat down where you sat before, you now sitting on his lap and wrapped in his strong arms. „I’m sorry, I couldn’t sneak out earlier, Brutus and Enobaria stayed up forever“, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. „Don’t worry, I’m just glad you came“, you smiled gently and the frown melted off his face, his eyes studying you for a second.

You were so beautiful, the soft wind was moving your hair and the way you were always looking at him so soft and loving made him fall for you more every moment you were together. He carefully gripped your cheek in his calloused hand and pulled you in for a kiss, just a short one. „I’m so proud of you by the way, how on earth did you get a 7?“, he had been genuinely surprised that you got such a good rating, and also had been positively gloating when that boy from your district was worse.

„What’s that supposed to mean? You thought I wouldn’t?“, you grinned and he tickled your side with a chuckle, until you pushed his hands away with a laugh. „I’m quite talented at climbing and stuff, guess that was enough“, you shrugged and he raised his brows in wonder. „You must’ve been really good at that then, don’t be so humble“, he smiled and kissed you again. „Mhm, I’m proud of you too by the way, not that I didn’t expect your score“, you mumbled between kisses, but he just grunted and continued kissing you.

His hand tangled in your hair, while his other pulled you flush against him and he moved his lips against yours more urgently. You hummed contently, matching his rhythm and sinking into his embrace, you loved how intense he got when he felt you relax and be completely at his mercy. He was more than a little possessive, but you loved it - if you were being honest it made you fantasize about the other things you two could be doing, you had heard the other teens in your district talk about it sometimes.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth gently, the way it softly moved with yours making you little lightheaded. You two seperated for air, a sigh leaving your lips, his forehead pressed against yours. „I love you“, it was almost inaudible, but you could clearly hear the term slip out of his mouth, your eyes opening in shock. A fraction of a second later he went rigid, his eyes opening even quicker than yours, and you could tell that he let it slip out on accident.

„Shit, I’m sorry it’s way too early- I mean I didn’t mean to let that slip- Fuck why did I-“, you were shocked to see the normally cool and hardened Career so unsure of himself and quickly interrupted him with a short kiss. „Did you mean it?“, you whispered, you loved him, you were a hundred percent sure of that, but you needed to know if he only said that in the spur of the moment or if he honestly felt that way.

„Yeah, I did mean it“, he breathed, a little calmer but still on edge, Cato wasn’t used to wearing his heart on his sleeve, but he also felt a little relieved that he told you how he felt out loud. „I love you“, you were positively beaming, an equally happy smile lighting up Catos face, he was even more relieved now that he knew you reciprocated his feelings. You hadn’t known eachother for very long, but it felt like a lifetime already.

—————————

Your stylist team had finished your hair and makeup (and everything else that needed to be done) and now you were just waiting for Aspasia to dress you. „Hello sweetheart“, she was excited as always and couldn’t wait to show you the dress. But you weren’t prepared for the dress she pulled out. „No way“, you gasped and she looked a little confused by your intense reaction. „It’s pretty isn’t it?“, she smiled and walked over to you.

„No, no you don’t understand“, you were really excited, „that dress - I made that!“ She was stunned into silence for a moment, and looked between you and the dress in her hands in shock. „Seriously? That’s so impressive, and I mean what are the odds?“, she was so right, this was damn near impossible, but here you were. The dress ended above your knees, beautiful embroidery all over it.

„I was originally going to design you a new dress, but I saw that dress while I was out the other day, and I just was so captivated by its beauty plus I thought it would fit you perfectly“, she rambled while helping you into the dress, closing it and leading you to the mirror where the shoes were waiting. „You look stunning love“, she smiled and you actually felt like it too.

—————————

„You looked so beautiful today“, Cato panted between kisses, his hands tightly squeezing your hips and yours gently gripping his blonde hair. „T-thank you“, you were breathless when his lips left yours and wandered down your jaw and towards your neck instead. The interview wasn’t that bad actually, the fact that you had made that dress was a perfect ice breaker. „You looked very handsome too“, your voice went up at the end, Catos teeth slightly grazing the soft skin of your neck and sending a shiver down your back.

Cato just hummed, fully immersed in littering your neck with soft kisses, the reactions he pulled out of you making him grow hard. He didn’t mean to, but you were so pretty on top of him, all whining and grabbing his hair, he couldn’t help it. He didn’t even notice his hands slipped under your pajamatop, only when his fingertips grazed the underside of your breasts - fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra - and you tensed above him, did he get pulled out of his thoughts.

„Fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to-“, he immediately apologized and pulled back his hand, he was sure you’ve never done anything like that and he didn’t want to pressure you. „No! No it’s okay, I was just surprised…I’ve never…“, you were blushing and growing embarrassed and he thought you were so cute. „Don’t worry love, I don’t want to put pressure on you, I was just lost in you for a moment“, his thumbs stroked you red cheeks softly, a grin spreading on his face.

„You didn’t“, you mumbled, in reality the way he touched you had felt really good, „I liked it.“ His eyebrows were raising and you looked away shyly. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about sleeping with him, you thought about how you were probably going to die tomorrow - and you wanted to be as close as possible to him tonight.

„You did?“, he was teasing you a little, but he was honestly curious what you were thinking at the moment. „Yeah…I mean I would like to…“, you had a hard time getting over your embarrassment while he was staring at you so intensely, „if you want to too, we could mhm…continue?“ You were sure the blush was spreading down your neck by now.

He was a little surprised to be honest, but also incredibly turned on by how you wanted to do this too. „I need to hear you say it pretty girl, need to make sure you actually want this“, he liked teasing you, but he was also telling the truth - he needed to make sure you consented to this. „Don’t make me say it Cato“, you were whining and squirmed in his lap, making it hard for him to concentrate, so he held onto your waist tightly, making you stop.

„I need to hear you say it (Y/N)“, he was kissing your neck softly, and you sighed quietly, making him pull you even closer. „I want to sleep with you Cato“, you whispered, but he heard you as if you shouted it, a shiver running through him, „do you…do you want to too?“ He groaned at the question. „Of course I want to baby, god you have no idea“, he moaned against your neck.

He held onto you tightly, laying the blanket across the rooftop and gently laying you down on it. „Are you sure you want this?“, he confirmed one more time, and you nodded impatiently. „Yes, yes I’m sure“, you pulled him down into a kiss, his hips wedged between your legs. He was bracing himself on top of you on his elbows, his biceps caging in your head.

While you were kissing, one his hands wandered under you pajamatop again and his fingertips softly skimmed over your skin, a shiver running through you when he ran his thumb over your already perked nipple. You sighed into his mouth and he pulled back and started peppering kisses over your jaw and to your neck. A little impatiently you grabbed the bottom of your top and pulled it over your head, and he froze for a second.

You were getting a little insecure with him just staring at your boobs, but when you blushed and tried to cover them he pushed your hands away with an unhappy grunt. „Don’t hide from me baby, you’re so beautiful“, he rumbled and you blushed even more, but before you could dwell on it, he lowered his mouth to the formerly neglected nipple and gently ran his tongue over it, making you hum and arch your back a little.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling at the fabric of his top until he let go of your nipple and helped you pull it off of him. You weren’t going to be the only one undressed, and when his toned and muscular upper body came to light you had to bite your lip not to let your moan slip out. Fuck he was so hot, and judging by his smirk he loved your reaction.

His ego inflated even more at the way you were unconsciously rubbing your legs together when he took of his shirt, and he couldn’t believe he would be your first. His lips went back to your perfectly soft boobs, and not being able to rule in his possessiveness he left a few marks, and then made his way down your belly, your hands in his hair making his brain feel all mushy.

You had touched yourself before, but never had you felt like that - your pussy was basically pulsing from his lips all over your body and you could feel there was a wet patch on your underwear. That man did things to you that made you forget everything around you. Your pants were pulled down your legs before you noticed and your lovers lips were on your body again, trailing kisses from your knee over the inside of your thigh towards where you needed him most.

„Cato please“, you were panting a little, his teasing and the anticipation were killing you. „Tell me what you want love“, he was kissing the juncture were your leg met you hips and you were writhing underneath him. „Please touch me“, you breathed, heat filling your cheeks but his grin made your lower stomach tingle in all the good ways.

„Anything you want“, he chuckled and pulled down you panties, but before you could even be selfconscious, he groaned at the sight of your dripping cunt and ran one of his calloused fingers down your slit. When he caught your clit, you whimpered, pushing your hips closer to get more of that feeling, your brain not being able to form a productive thought - you were completely at this tall Careers mercy.

„Fuck baby you’re so wet“, he groaned, his thumb circling your clit and his breath fanning over your pussy. You were so lost in the feeling of him that you didn’t notice his mouth lowering until suddenly his finger was gone and was replaced by his mouth. You gasped, the feeling of his tongue moving over your clit was overwhelming, the sight of his head between your legs so sinful you let out a moan.

He prodded your entrance with his fingers, two of them carefully slipping inside and you were blissed out. He curled them expertly into your spongey spot, your thighs basically smothering him but he didn’t seem to care, and you could feel the coil in your belly tightening. „You taste so good baby, you’re gonna cum for me? Cum all over my tongue come on“, he coaxed you and when he started sucking on your clit and added a third finger, the feeling of the slightly burning stretch and the pleasure of his mouth on you pushed you over the edge.

„Cato!“, you moaned out loud, clenching around his fingers and holding onto his hair for dear life. You were glad the streets were so loud or you would’ve been worried about being overheard. His fingers fucked you through your high, he was imagining your thight heat wrapped around him and groaned, the vibration making you twitch from overstimulation once you came down from your orgasm.

When he heard you whine, the feeling of his tongue too sensitive on your swollen and fucked out pussy, he pulled back and sucked his fingers clean while admiring your pretty face, all flushed and satisfied - satisfied by him, he thought with a smirk. While you were evening out your breathing, he quickly shed his pants and underwear before perching himself above you, his hard cock slapping against your belly, a hum leaving your mouth at the feeling.

„You’re so beautiful“, he whispered, placing kisses on your chin, forehead and cheeks, making you giggle slightly. He smiled at that, his heart beating faster and he embraced the feeling of how whipped for you he was. „I love you“, you laced your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to kiss him and he happily yielded. „I love you too“, he mumbled between kisses, but then he felt your small hand wander down his chest and over his abs.

You fingertips slightly brushed the leaking head of his dick, a groan leaving his mouth and he grabbed your hand to stop you. „Fuck baby“, he panted, „if you touch me now I won’t last long.“ You were blushing and he just adored your pretty face, kissing you again, before grabbing your thighs and pulling them up against his hips.

„Are you sure you want this?“, he looked into your big innocent eyes, the head of his cock slipping through your wet folds, mixing his precum with your slick. „Yes, please, I’m sure Cato“, you nodded, of course you were nervous too, it was your first tim after all, but you trusted him completely. You heard the other girls talk about how it hurt the first time, and he was really big, but you were sure he knew what he was doing - why he knew that you didn’t want to think about too much, you weren’t angry or anything, but it still made you feel a little jealous.

He pushed the head of his cock into you and the stretch burned a little, but it wasn’t too bad. You could tell he had to hold back, and when you clenched around him he groaned, burying his face in your neck. You held onto his biceps, the bulging muscle straining from holding his weight up, and then he pushed his hips forward, opening you up more and more, until he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls resting against your ass. He stopped for a moment, giving you a second to get adjusted to his girth.

Cato was sure this was heaven, your cunt was so hot and tight and the sounds you made had him holding onto his selfcontrol for dear life - he had to stop himself from pounding into you right away. Your scent was enveloping him, your small hands on his arms and legs wrapped around his waist, he didn’t care about anything or anyone else in that moment - just you, and he knew you would be his priority from now on, always.

„Please Cato, need you“, you whimpered and he came back to reality when you clenched around him, pulling back from your neck and grabbing your thigh in one hand, before mounting you more securely and picking up a slow rhythm. You moaned, the way his veiny cock was dragging along your walls, filling you to the brim made you tighten around him.

He went faster, his thrusts getting harder and battering your cervix, his restraint slipping from him with each time you gushed more slick around him, pulling him into your tight pussy. „Who do you belong to (Y/N)?“, he growled, lost in his possessive nature and the way he dominated the soft girl underneath him. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, but when he gave a punctured hard thrust, making you gasp, you could see he wanted an answer.

„You Cato, I belong to you“, you moaned, a shift in his hips making him hit that one spot inside of you, and you were getting lost in your pleasure. „Damn right you do, you’re mine“, he groaned, pulling you into a kiss, his cock never ceasing its assault of your swollen pussy, the feeling of your high approaching making you pull away from the kiss with a whine.

„Cum for me love“, he basically ordered you too, and his deep voice awoke some primal instinct inside of you. His fingers started circling your clit roughly, and you were pulled over the edge, chanting his name and squeezing his hard cock like a vice. He fucked you through your orgasm, and when you came down, he picked up his pace one more time, making you twitch around him slightly, reaching his high with a moan.

He buried himself as deep inside of you as you would take him, his balls tightening and he was spilling his cum deep into your perfect pussy. With one final rut, he stilled and just layed on top of your fucked out form for a few moments - careful not to put his whole weight on you. Both your breathing slowed eventually, Cato turning the both of you around so you were laying on top of him comfortably (his dick never slipping out) and covering both of you with the part of the blanket you weren’t laying on.

„You okay?“, he asked quietly, and you hummed happily. „Better than okay“, you giggled slightly, making him smile. „Good“, he kissed the top of your head, your hair softly falling over his right shoulder and the both of you admiring the skyline, basking in the presence of the other. „Promise me you will run to me tomorrow, I’ll do anything to keep you safe (Y/N), but I need you to run towards me baby“, his arms squeezed your waist tightly, as if afraid you would disappear right now.

„I promise“, you just said, knowing it wouldn’t do anything good to argue about the possibilities of you dying on the way to him. You just wanted to enjoy the moment right now. He seemed to relax underneath you, one of his large hand cupping your cheek and stroking your jaw softly. You kissed him gently, trying to ingrain the feeling of his lips into your brain. No matter what happened now, you would always have his love and he yours.

————————

I recently rewatched the hunger games and was fully back in my obsession with Cato, so here you go! Would really appreciate some feedback, or opinions if there should be a part 2?

#x reader #the hunger games #cato #cato x reader #cato hadley #cato hadley x reader #cato hunger games #katniss #capitol #district #fluff #angst #smut #peeta

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lenaswritingandstuff · 3 months ago

Text

All I had • Mattheo Riddle x f!reader (Part 2 & END)

Requested: No well I lowkey did

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x f!reader

Summary: After his girlfriend y/n is killed, Mattheo has to deal not only with pain and sorrow, but also cruel accusations (complete original prompt here), and asks someone for help.

Word count: 4.7K

Warnings: mentions of death, lost and grief; cursing ;

A/N: Thank you guys a lot for the good feedback the first part got! Here Mattheo and Tom are also Bellatrix' sons, and Mattheo is older than Harry by one year (so this takes place during Harry's sixth year) and younger than Tom by one year too. There will be two povs in this part, and I might do a bonus scene if (a lot of) people ask. This is my first time writing for Tom (and Voldemort) so I really hope it's alright. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Hope you enjoy it!

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus

Tag list for this story: @arlxtoa

GIF IS NOT MINE.

PART I

The two Aurors got up and left, and Mattheo blinked. When he opened his eyes again, the cold metallic table and the chairs disappeared, and he was back into the small room with the bed and the floating candles. Weakly, he laid on the bed and crossed his hands on his stomach. He didn’t know how long he had been here, in this room which was more magical than he thought as the bed, the sink and the table that were here when he arrived disappeared every time the Aurors came in, with a metallic table and three chairs surrounded by simple darkness which disappeared when the two men did. However, it must have been at least two days, spent refusing anything he was proposed to eat or drink - strangely enough, though, he wasn’t feeling hungry or thirsty at all - and refusing to say what those two fuckers demanded. Everytime they came in, Mattheo asked if they contacted Tom so he could come, but they refused to answer, insisting with their dumb questions instead.

At first, his brother not coming to his aid had gave Mattheo great anxiety, as he saw it as the only way to prove he didn’t do what they accused him of - his mind refused to use the real words - but now, as time passed and without an answer, all anxiety - which was the only thing he was able to feel besides his pain and empty chest - had left him, leaving only resignation. If he was sent to Azkaban, so be it. After all, even if he didn’t do it, didn’t he deserve it for not being able to protect y/n? He was her boyfriend, who vowed while looking into her eyes, her eyes he was crazy about, to always protect her and save her if needed, and he couldn’t fucking do that. And again, even if he didn’t do it, it was his fault she was gone. If he hadn’t gone out for a stupid cigarette with Theo, maybe y/n wouldn’t have left her room and she would still be here, holding his hand and kissing him. Some part of him knew that maybe she left to go help a friend in need - typical y/n - and didn’t actually go out to look after him after he took a while to come back, but the biggest part of him refused to think about that theory, refusing to admit that it wasn’t his fault somehow.

It had been too good to be true, he thought. He had managed to escape both his parents ever since his father came back and his mother escaped Azkaban, Tom and Dumbledore helping him hide during the summer holidays - y/n had asked him countless time to come to live in her parents’ house, but despite wanting nothing more than to say yes and spend the summer by her side, Mattheo had refused to put her and her family, who had already been kind enough to let someone like him date their daughter, in danger. He had also managed the anxiety and stress his father’s coming back had brought, mostly due to y/n’s love and care, and had even managed to plan on becoming an Auror once he would leave school, which he knew had worried y/n, but now, all the good things he had managed to do and the overall good - or at least; bearable - life he had built around his friends and y/n not only meant nothing, but it had died with her. Because even if I manage to not go to Azkaban, what would I do? I might as well join my father.

But Mattheo had that thought, y/n’s sad, disappointed face appeared to him, and he hated himself even more. y/n wouldn’t want that, he forced himself to think, slightly shaking his head. y/n would want him to fight, and most importantly, would want him to remain the boy she had loved. His only option, if he managed to not go to prison, would be to hide until his death - which now he didn’t care when it would come. The door suddenly opened, bringing Mattheo out of his thoughts, and had half expected the Aurors to come back and, letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes, he prepared himself to insult them this time, but it wasn’t one of their voices he heard.

“Brother.”

Fuck. Mattheo’s eyes snapped open, and he jumped on his bed, and at the same time turning his head so quickly he could have hurt himself. Taller and of stronger structure, Tom was standing near the door, his dark curls perfectly styled contrasting with Mattheo’s messy hair, and dressed in an all black suit.

As if he was waking up from a long, deep sleep, Mattheo’s mind was not perfectly aware, and got used to the idea of Tom actually being here. Looking up at him, Mattheo noticed his elder brother looked paler than usual, and there was something strange about his eyes.

“They called you,” Mattheo managed to say.

“They did. Their message came late, however, as I was…busy, in the north.”

In other circumstances, Mattheo might have asked Tom what he meant by that - he never really knew what his brother was up to ever since the latter left Hogwarts last year - but, now, he just slightly nodded in answer.

“Dumbledore told me,” Tom continued, his tone now sounding more febrile and softer, “that y/n was… dead.”

The last three words hit Mattheo like a thousand knives in the heart, but they also for some reason finished to convince his mind that it really did happen.

“The two Aurors told me you did it.”

“I didn’t,” Mattheo answered immediately, the defensive tone and behavior he had been having for the last two days around the Aurors coming back.

“I know. Though I wish to know what really happened.”

Sighing and his eyes on the ground, Mattheo explained everything that happened that night, from spending an usual night with y/n in her room - he saw a small grimace on Tom’s face for a small second - to going for a smoke with Theo.

“Then on my way back, I was walking by the courtyard when I saw her…her, I…I saw her body.”

Mattheo then raised his gaze, and saw that Tom’s body and face had stiffen, and one of his fists was now closed. A year ago, this reaction from Tom upon hearing about y/n would have angered Mattheo deeply, but now, he only felt some annoyance which surprisingly disappeared quickly.

“There was no round around?” Tom asked. “No sign of anybody?”

Mattheo shook his head negatively.

“Who do you think might have done it?” Tom questioned in a sharper tone.

“I don’t know. She only had friends. Teachers liked her. Her family is normal…”

“Try to think, Mattheo,” Tom cut off coldly, growing impatient, “try to remember a detail, a conversation y/n had with someone…”

“I don’t know!” Mattheo said louder. “I haven’t been able to think ever since I had her corpse in my arms!”

Tom had a very small sigh. “Then maybe y/n didn’t tell you about it. Do you think her friends might know something?"

“Her friends never liked me much,” Mattheo had a bitter small laugh. “Well, except for Pansy.”

“I see. I’ll have to ask them some questions, then.” Tom said. And I could as well have searched her dorm for a clue, but I heard her family already took her belongings and cleared her room,” he added in annoyance.

Mattheo frowned. “Her family? Her family is already here?”

“Yes. It’s been two days, they had to take her body,” Tom answered, his voice a bit febrile. “I suppose the… funeral will be held soon.”

It was already unbearably hard enough for his mind to understand the idea that y/n was dead and would never come back, but to imagine her immobile body in a casket, alone in the darkness and the coldness of the silent underneath the ground…No, fucking no, that was something he could not and could never handle. When he looked at Tom again, Mattheo saw him as lost in thought, as if he felt the same way. And he knew he did.

“Do you believe she could have had some sort of stalker or admirer?” Tom questioned after a moment of silence.

“You mean, other than you?”

Tom looked at him, now angered but a bit surprised as well.

“Unbelievable. y/n is dead and you’re still thinking about this?”

Mattheo didn’t answer. Of course that was stupid to think about what happened last year, especially now. Last year, between Umbridge’s tyranny and the suspicion that had raised around Mattheo and Tom now that their father was back, something Mattheo never imagined happened: Tom, the cold and quiet Tom who had never looked at a girl before, had fallen in love. Mattheo had been amused at the idea, and had been curious to know who the lucky girl was, despite the whole thing happening in front of his eyes. One day, a very surprised y/n had come to him, saying Tom had asked to talk to her in private and had confessed to her that his heart, which all thought cold and frozen, had fallen for her. Angry as he never had been in his life and only listening to the part of himself which was telling him that his brother wanted to steal everything from him, Mattheo had immediately went to see Tom and a big fight had followed, and it would have probably became physical if Tom hadn’t remain his calm self, although greatly annoyed at Mattheo’s shouting, and his friends holding him back just in case. y/n , sweet, innocent y/n had felt guilty despite not being at fault, and later Mattheo had realized that it was likely her fondness and compassion for Tom, who was “always so alone” which had made his older brother think he and y/n might have a chance. Mattheo had never been mad at y/n, but, unable to not be angry at Tom and unable to not think that Tom wanted y/n just because she was with him, his cordial relationship with Tom had been broken, and they never had any contact after Tom graduated. But with time, Mattheo had realized he understood Tom. After all, y/n was beautiful and had a heart of gold, and people were drawn to her and her warmness, kindness and natural charm. It wasn’t even a surprise that someone like Tom, cold and silent, would fall for her despite being as different as can be. But while also thinking about this, he had then remembered all the times he had seen Tom and y/n speaking, studying, or just the kind things he would sometimes tell her, and it had made sense.

“I know they found your wand. You mentioned you lost it,” Tom said suddenly. “Do you have any idea where that might have happened?”

“No,” Mattheo said, looking at the ground. “I just know I lost it after class.”

“Did you tell anyone?”

“y/n.”

“Are you sure you don’t remember any details? Anything that could help?”

“I already told you no,” Mattheo said with annoyance.

He tried to think hard about it, though, trying to remember his walk from y/n’s dorm to the dark corner of the castle where he met Theo, and remembered it overall - the empty corridors, making sure nobody, especially a teacher, wouldn’t see him. He then tried to remember every detail of the way back. He tried hard, forcing his mind to bring itself back to this moment, but to his great confusion, he didn’t remember anything. It was as if, one moment, he was walking away from Theo, and the other, he was walking by the courtyard, seeing his biggest nightmare coming true.

“I don’t remember anything from my way back to her dorm,” Mattheo simply said.

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I don’t remember anything between leaving Theo and seeing h…her body.” The last two words still had a hard time leaving his mouth. Suddenly, he had a thought, maybe the most clever and useful thought he had ever since he had been brought here.

“Maybe you losing your wand and your memory somehow disappearing are linked,” Tom stated, and Mattheo nodded. “Did anybody here do some strange things or had a strange behavior this year?”

Mattheo thought, and quickly had an idea.

“I heard Harry speaking with his friends once. He said Draco was up to something, and, well, I noticed he’s been acting strangely since september.”

Tom remained silent, and acquiesced.

“Then I shall have a conversation with our cousin.”

They opened the door after Tom knocked once, and the two Aurors were still here waiting for him when he left the room. He ignored them and started walking down the small corridor, but they apparently were not willing to do the same.

“Did he tell you anything?” one of the Aurors asked, full of curiosity, trying to keep up with Tom’s quick and long footsteps.

Not bothered, Tom did not even give him an answer.

“Well?” the other insisted.

“No, he did not,” Tom answered this time, but only to get rid of them. “He already told you he was innocent. There was no more he had to say. Just like I have nothing to say to you.”

It worked, and the Auroras stopped following him. He left their outraged and suspicious gazes behind his back, but to say he didn’t care was an understatement. It was already the end of the afternoon, and classes just finished. Tom, ignoring the surprised looks of the crowds of students, walked to Snape’s class, and found him here sitting behind his desk. His former professor raised his eyes, and though he didn’t show it, Tom knew Snape was surprised to see him at Hogwarts.

“Snape.”

“Mr. Riddle.”

“I wish to talk with a few of your students. Be kind to bring them here.”

“And may I ask why you wish to talk to them?”

“If I thought it concerned you, I would willingly tell you,” Tom responded. “Now, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkison and Daphne Greengrass.”

Snape looked at him, but did not say a word. Minutes later, only two silhouettes entered Snape’s dark greenish class. The two girls exchanged a curious look upon seeing Tom.

“Tom?” Pansy Parkinson asked. She had always been somehow unafraid of him, and Tom respected that fact. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help my brother.”

Parkison raised her eyebrows with genuine surprise. “You think he’s innocent?”

Tom nodded. “I know you two ladies were y/n’s closest friends. I need you to tell me if she had anyone who wished to do her harm.”

Pansy shook her head and had a slight sigh, “we already told the Aurors everything.”

Daphne nodded, “y/n had no enemies. Well,” she added with a false smile, “at least that’s what we thought until her own boyfriend turned out to be one..”

“Mattheo is innocent,” Tom retorted right away.

Pansy chuckled bitterly, “Don’t make me laugh, Riddle. Everyone in school knows how they found his wand near her body, and how the last spell it cast was the killing curse. He did kill our friend, and I hope he will rot in Azkaban for the rest of his days.”

Tom remained silent, ignoring his growing annoyance, and instead focused his mind on entering Parkison’s. He saw her in Daphne’s arms, probably crying over y/n’s death, and going back to before that event, he saw her this time laughing with Daphne and y/n, and his heart - if it was still there - skipped a beat. Seeing her full of life, laughing, when he knew she would never laugh again was almost too much to bear. He continued inspecting Parkison’s memory, and when he couldn’t find anything, did the same thing to Greengrass. He didn’t find anything new inside her mind, and had a hard time not showing his displeasure. He had entered their minds and saw their memories so quickly that they didn’t even notice what he did.

“Where is my cousin?” Tom finally asked, quickly looking at Snape.

“Draco?” Parkinson asked. “Well, we saw him in class, but…”

“He left right after the last one. Maybe he’s in the common room, or maybe his dorm?”

Tom wanted to ask if, like Mattheo, they thought Draco had been acting weirdly, but wouldn’t do that in Snape’s presence. He gestured for the two girls to go, and turned back towards Snape.

“If I don’t find who murdered y/n and exonerate my brother before I leave Hogwarts, I suggest you continue looking for the murderer. Because, as you well know, Severus, my wrath is nothing compared to his.”

Not waiting for Snape’s answer, Tom left the room. He directly went for the dungeons, where the Slytherin common room was. Some friends of Mattheo were here, sitting on some of the couches - Berkshire with his innocent face, Nott always acting as if he had no care in the world and Zabini who never smiled - and they immediately came to him when they saw him.

“Tom?” Nott asked. “You’re here to help Mattheo, right?”

“Did you find anything?” Berkshire asked.

“I need to speak to my cousin. Where is he?”

“We don’t know,” Zabini shrugged. “I looked in our dorm, he’s not here.”

Tom decided to go check the room himself, and walked in its direction. As Zabini said, there was no one here. The room was well ordered, full of expensive things both Zabini and Draco’s parents had bought and of Slytherin decoration, but Tom looked into it, he didn’t find anything. His patience growing thin, Tom quickly left the room, and, ignoring Mattheo’s friends and their questions, left the common room. Walking through the corridors, he only met a few much younger students who did not dare to look at him for too long until he saw three silhouettes talking softly.

“Potter.”

The latter turned immediately, but didn’t seem that surprised to see him, and they walked closer to each other.

“My brother told me you found Draco’s behavior strange. Why?”

“We saw him at Borgin & Burke with his mother. They seemed like they didn’t want people to know they were here. Sometimes, he disappears and doesn’t come to class. He’s always quiet, and you never see him outside of class.”

“And pray tell, what’s your theory?”

Potter stared at him, and as Tom expected, didn’t say anything.

“Come on, Potter. You’re smarter than most people give you credit for.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t be smart if I told you what I thought.”

Tom inclined his head, squinting his eyes. “So it has to do with my father. You believe he’s a Death Eater, don’t you?”

Potter’s eyes hardening was enough for Tom to know he was right.

It wasn’t common for Tom’s father to pick followers that young, but if it was indeed true, Tom was not surprised. Either his father had expected Draco to replace Tom’s uncle Lucius, or he was forced to. I know my cousin. He may be arrogant and spoiled, but he doesn’t have the stomach to be a Death Eater. Not for long, anyway.

“I see,” Tom continued. “And where do you think he goes when he disappears?”

Potter looked at him, hesitating before giving an answer. “I can’t be sure, but…the Room of Requirement makes sense.”

And with that, Tom turned his heels and went to the seventh floor of the castle. He knew it was going to be hard, as that room could appear anywhere, but he wasn’t going to give in. In a long, empty corridor, he closed his eyes, and walked past a large naked wall three times. I need to find what Draco has been up to. I need to find who killed y/n. Doing his best to shut the pain that thinking about y/n brought him, he walked past the wall for several minutes, but when he stopped his pace and opened his eyes, the wall was still naked. Growing angry, he all of a sudden heard footsteps breaking the silence. He focused, and almost instantly knew who it was. Draco. Putting himself against the wall, Tom waited barely a minute, and immediately grabbed Draco, who, as expected, tried to resist.

“Let me go!”

“Quiet.”

Draco immediately stopped moving, and, upon seeing who had grabbed his arm, frowned.

“Tom?”

Tom immediately saw that Draco’s face was paler, looking even a bit gray, and thinner than usual, and that he had dark bags under his eyes.

“Greetings, cousin.” Tom said with calm and a smile. “I have a few questions to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

Draco started to struggle again, but Tom took out his wand, pointing it on his cousin’s chin.

“Do not make me do something I will not regret. It is really simple, cousin. You either answer my questions, or I will get them out of you. Do we understand each other?”

Draco remained silent, but Tom knew he understood.

“Do you know who killed y/n?”

“No!”

“Do you know who might have done it?”

“No! Let me go, now, or I’ll-”

“Do what?” Tom said, amused. “Please, pray tell.”

Draco again didn’t say a word, only giving him a death stare. Despite allegations of Draco acting weirdly and his weaker look, Tom knew it didn’t mean Draco had anything to do with y/n’s murder - the word was enough to almost wreck havoc. However, despite Draco’s denial, Tom felt something was off. Just like he did with y/n’s friends, Tom entered Draco’s mind, but found it way harder. Immediately understanding why, Tom smiled.

“I see my mother taught you Legilimency. I expected better, though.”

Not wasting another second, Tom pointed at Draco’s forehead. At first, he was shown memories from Draco’s first years here, bullying students with his friends, then darker, unhappier memories with his parents and Tom and Mattheo’s mother at Malfoy Manor, succeeded at last by what really interested Tom. He suddenly saw his father, probably furious after Uncle Lucius failed the disaster at the Ministry, and then had a memory of Draco inside the Room of Requirement - as Potter had guessed - standing in front of what Tom knew was a Vanishing Cabinet. The whole scenery disappeared, and instead there was the boys’ restroom, with Draco sitting on the ground with his face in his hands, crying. Next, he was back to Malfoy Manor, standing in front of both Tom’s parents.

“My sons have both been a disappointment, a great disappointment,” Tom’s father said calmly. “I still hold hope for Tom, but as for Mattheo…If I don’t act quickly, he will be out of reach forever. You said there was a girl at Hogwarts that he ‘loves’.”

Tom felt his heart beat faster, and his breath became short.

“Well,” his father continued, “along with the other task you have been given, Draco, you will kill that girl. If you don’t, I’ll kill your mother and then you.”

If he thought Dumbledore telling him of y/n’s death broke his heart, learning it was his father who ordered it broke his soul. But he had barely time to process that memory that another came, bringing him back to Hogwarts. Draco was standing against a wall in an empty corridor. Tom heard voices from afar, and after a moment, saw his own brother. Jumping behind him, Draco pointed his wand at the back of Mattheo’s head.

“Impero.”

Mattheo took his wand out of his robe and Draco grabbed it. Mattheo didn’t move as Draco went back to the spot he was hiding it, and pointed once again his wand at Mattheo.

“Obliviate.”

A few seconds later, Mattheo slightly shook his head and continued walking, eventually disappearing. The next memory happened at night, and Draco was once again hiding, this time in a corridor which led to the courtyard, apparently waiting for someone. But Tom didn’t even have to guess who, because it was as if his whole being knew who was coming and what was going to happen. He didn’t want to look, didn’t want to hear, but his eyes refused to look away or to close themselves. He heard familiar footsteps, and suddenly, y/n appeared; walking rather quickly, and she took a glance at the darkness of the courtyard. Tom saw Draco’s hand shaking as he pointed Mattheo’s wand at y/n and, after hesitating for a short moment, opened his mouth.

“Avada Kedavra.”

Despite his whole being screaming at him to look away, Tom turned to y/n and saw her looking at the green light coming to her right and gasping before the spell hit her, and her body hit the ground. Draco closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. Taking his own hand, Draco moved it, and y/n body started levitating, heading for the courtyard, before eventually lowering itself to the ground. Tom stayed here, looking at her corpse, wanting to scream for the first time in his life. He didn’t know how long he stared at him, his very soul in pain, but it must not have been for long, because when he pulled himself together, Draco was still here, and he heard a familiar voice.

“y/n?”

Mattheo was here now, close to her body. He kneeled near her, taking her into his arms, calling for her, asking her if she could hear him, eventually crying, screaming for her to come back. Draco once again shed a tear, and took out both his wand and Mattheo’s. He made Mattheo’s wand float to fall down near Mattheo. Wiping away his tears, Draco tried to look normal, started walking away, and thus his memory was over. Tom was brought back to reality, to the corridor where he was holding Draco - y/n’s murderer, the one who had taken his only chance of happiness from him. If it was another person who had been killed, Tom might have understood why the murderer did it and even maybe felt compassion as he knew how his father was, but it was y/n, and it took everything in Tom to not torture Draco in ways that would have make his father happy. Draco tried to fight Tom’s grasp again, but this time, Tom took the opportunity to answer the last question he had on his mind. He rolled up Draco’s left sleeve, and saw the Dark Mark. Potter was right, after all, was all that he thought.

“It was Draco.”

Mattheo looked at his brother, confused.

“What? Draco did what?”

Tom looked back at him. “He killed y/n. I saw it. In his mind. Our father told him to. He put you under the Imperius curse to take your wand, used it to kill her, and put it next to you after killing her.”

Mattheo tried to grasp the idea, but simply couldn’t. Draco, his vain cousin, spoiled and loved by his parents like neither him or Tom had been?

“He’s a Death Eater,” Tom added with no emotion. “He has the mark. He killed her to save both his and his mother’s lives. I do think he didn’t want to do it. He cried a bit.”

Mattheo gulped. “Did she…Did she see him?

But Tom knew what his real questions were: did y/n see death coming? Was she scared? Did she scream for help, for anyone - for him, to come and save her?

Tom became pale, and for the second time in his life, Mattheo saw that his brother’s eyes were sad.

“No. She only saw the spell for a quick second before she…”

Mattheo closed his eyes, and nodded. One half of him wanted to see it with his own eyes, wanted to see her last moments, where he should have been here to save her, but the other half refused to, convinced he would turn into a mad man if he saw her dying. Mattheo felt warm tears leave his eyes and roll down his cheeks.

“She was all I had,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I know,” Tom said, staring at the wall on his left. “She was all I had, too.”

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frvnkcastles · 5 months ago

Text

LIKE HEAVEN ABOVE ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: After Frank saves your life, you’re there for him through thick and thin.

Warnings: Violence, language, feminine nicknames, implied smut, mentions of death, reader is a teacher, reader wears glasses

Word count: 5.6k (wow)

Author’s note: Omggg y’all, I dug this up from my Pages app, it’s literally almost 3 years old and that’s why I’m a little nervous to post it but I thought it might actually be some of my best writing, so here we go :) It takes place through Daredevil season 2 all the way to the end of The Punisher Season 1, and I have to admit, I honestly feel like Frank was NOT ready for any kind of love interest during Daredevil but I took some creative liberties, anyway. So this is a little out of character on that front. I’m rambling, I hope you enjoy!! I’m gonna get back to your requests soon <3

Frank felt like somehow days passed by in a flurry yet every second dragged on like the worst torture he had endured — which was saying a lot considering the literal war he had gone through, and the fact he was currently lying in a hospital bed; broken, bruised and with a drilling hole in his foot. And yet waiting to see you was the one thing that got his confidence to falter, his brain to shortcircuit.

For a man so stubborn and determined to do things on his own, he had crumbled so fast when presented with the opportunity to see you again. He hadn’t even realized he had ended up caring about you so deeply, not until the blonde journalist had stepped into his room and the words just poured out of him.

”Would ya do me a favour?” Frank asked as the woman was leaving the room, his gruff voice so uncharacteristically meek and vulnerable, and therefore capable of turning her head immediately. ”Please”, he added weakly, ”my girl… I—there’s someone I need to see. Just once. Please.”

Maybe she was curious about meeting the one person who seemed to mean anything to The Punisher anymore; maybe she felt surprisingly bad for him or maybe it was both, but Karen found herself doing as he asked and tracked you down. She reached out and a few days later… you were walking down the hallways of the hospital, uncomfortably shifting the weight of your leather jacket from one arm to the other, your stomach churning in nervous anticipation.

The sight of several armed guards standing outside the room you were being walked to made you gulp, but you weren’t scared of the man inside. You were scared to see the kind of condition he was in, to fully comprehend the gravity of the situation, scared of the moment you’d have to walk out in the uncertainty if you’d ever see him again. But not him. Never him.

Something in Frank came to life when you appeared at the doorway; something he thought to be long dead and buried only for you to always revive him. He lifted his head from the worn pillows and sighed in some kind of relief, only for guilt to lodge into his heart when he saw you scanning his body.

He looked awful, no way around it. Littered in bruises so severe you could barely see his face, you struggled not to cry while looking at the multiple machines connected to him and the abundance of bandages on his tired limbs. What really got to you, though, was the handcuffs on his wrists and the straps across his chest and stomach to make sure there was no room for him to move any more than necessary to sit up and lie back down.

”Jesus…”, you sighed breathlessly, your hands beginning to shake as you walked over to him with a frown so deep it hurt his heart. He knew he might have been a selfish asshole for dragging you here, for making you see what he had tried to protect you from this whole time, for letting you get attached right before it would all go to shit, anyway. But he wasn’t strong enough to push you away. He was capable of enduring much, but he was weak when it came to you. He had tried it, at first, keeping you at arm’s length but you got under his skin in a way that was irreversible and it hurt more to resist than it did to give in. For him, anyway.

”Looks worse than it is, sweetheart”, he rasped, and with a scoff, you finally met his eyes only for the depth of them to catch you off-guard and make you choke on your own tongue. He looked just as attentive and kind as the day you had met him — you swore you’d never forget the way he had hid you behind the counter of the diner, looked right into your eyes and promised he’d make sure you’d make it to class tomorrow; what would the kids do without their teacher, after all?

”They said your foot was… that there was a…”, you stammered, hoping to counter his words with an argument that failed as soon as you tried to get it out. He had never judged you for your tendency to stutter, though, and he didn’t do it now, either. Simply nodded and let you process.

”Yeah. Yeah, there was”, he admitted quietly, licking his split lips as he watched you move to the chair next to his bed and slowly sink down. Even with all the pain in your eyes, you looked so beautiful in one of your worn band shirts and the skirt you had promptly tucked it into, your glasses heavy on your nose and the shimmer of your lipbalm like a red thread for Frank to hang onto like his life depended on it. Amidst all the chaos and ache of his recent weeks, he could just close his eyes and think back to you, and somehow he felt at peace. At least for a second.

”I wish I could… make it all better”, you whispered sadly, a lone tear rolling down your cheek as you looked at his bruised cheekbones.

Frank’s hand reached for yours only for the handcuffs to stop him, the noise of the movement alerting the guard outside the door and pulling a swear from Frank. When he settled his hand back by his side, the guard seemed to relax a little, making both of you sigh — the man wasn’t even allowed to hold your hand.

”Oh, sweetheart”, Frank whispered, ”that’s exactly what you do. You make all this shit better.” He managed a small smile as he tilted his head at you. ”I may just make it worse, but you? Christ, you…”, he struggled to put his thoughts into words, keeping you on your toes as he finally decided against it, ”I’preciate you comin’. I just, uh, I guess I wanted to see you before I get dragged into a courtroom and… yeah. Yeah, there’s no happy ending for me. But for a moment there, you helped me believe there might be”, he went on, only breaking your heart with each word.

You wiped your eyes and chuckled softly. ”You don’t give yourself enough credit, Frankie. You’ve really made things better for me, too. And you deserve a happy ending, however that might look for you”, you swore, casting your eyes at your trembling hands. ”I know it might be weird to say, but I’m grateful I met you. Life-threatening danger and all. You and everyone else may not see it the same way, but you are a good guy. You are”, you continued before sniffling and getting up from your chair enough to press a kiss on his forehead.

You were careful and gentle, unwilling to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. Yet when you moved to pull away, Frank grunted and reached for your wrist, stopping you from leaving. For a moment, you were forehead to forehead, your lips inches away and his breath mixing with yours.

”Sit with me for a bit? Yeah?” Frank pleaded, and when you nodded, he swallowed and smiled weakly. ”That’s my girl.”

He didn’t see you again until the trial. He spotted you right there in the benches, dressed in your finest red shirt that had his thoughts running a million miles while being walked to the stand. He was dressed in a suit, too, and he almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculous thought of a date swirling in his head. Maybe, in another lifetime, that could have been reality — not him being on trial for murder with you trying to tune out the hate speech spewed at him from the other half of the courtroom.

Most of his bruises had healed by then. You found small comfort in that.

You didn’t get to tell him he looked good, though. You didn’t get to say a single thing when he was announcing his guilt with a booming roar, and the next thing you knew, he was being walked out of the courtroom with a prison sentence looming over his head. You didn’t blame him for doing what he did, and you certainly didn’t expect him to choose you over his morals. But nevertheless, you couldn’t help but cry as he was taken out of sight and you were left with the realization you may never see him again.

You were sitting outside on the steps of the courthouse when a strange hand extended a tissue for you. Just as you looked up, nearly blinded by the sunshine, you were glad you hadn’t said your thought out loud when you saw Frank’s lawyer poke his cane at the steps until he figured where to sit. He lowered himself next to you just as you took the tissue and thanked him for his kindness.

”You’re the woman”, he stated matter-of-factly, and when you turned to him in confusion, he chuckled quietly. ”I recognize your perfume. It… stuck to him”, he explained — even if his explanation remained vague — but you had no time to present any further questions when he continued. ”Frank Castle is not a talkative man. But I’ve noticed whenever he does speak, his words carry meaning. He doesn’t do small talk or state the obvious, he… he only shares what he considers important. And if that is the case, then… you are extremely important to him”, he elaborated before drawing in a deep breath and sending a small smile your way.

Your heart both broke and leaped at his words. You hadn’t exactly doubted it, but it meant a great deal to know Frank cherished you as much as you cherished him.

”And he is to me”, you returned quietly, pulling a slow nod from the man — Matt — who then turned his head at you curiously.

”If you don’t mind me asking… how does a teacher find herself with The Punisher?” he wondered, and considering it your turn to chuckle, you turned to your hands and recalled the night that had turned your life upside down.

”He saved my life. I know that’s how all the cliché fairytales go, but he did. I was at my favorite diner to get some grilled cheese after a long day of work. I was so close to making it, too, when these, uh, thugs came in. Looking for him, unsurprisingly. There was only one other person besides us and they managed to escape before the shooting began, so… Frank hid me behind the counter. He told me he’d keep me safe, that I’d get to see the kids I teach again the next day— he’d heard me talking to the cashier. He’d make sure of it. And he did. He took care of those guys and afterwards he walked me home. I—I owed him my life so I figured the least I could do was ice his knuckles. He must have been barely ten minutes in my apartment but it meant everything. We just… couldn’t get rid of each other after that”, you explained, the sunlight suddenly feeling warmer on your skin and the smile on your lips so free of worry. For a second, anyway.

Matt listened intently — not only to what you were saying, but you. And it didn’t take him long to come to a conclusion. ”You love him”, he declared, and with your head snapping towards him, you frowned.

”We haven’t—there’s nothing—”, you began, your stutter seeping through again, and Matt smiled.

”Whether or not you’ve acted on it, I can hear it. You’ve fallen in love with him”, he emphasized before humming, ”and I think, somewhere deep down underneath all that trauma and guilt and unwillingness to face the facts… he feels the same way.”

You stared at him, disbelief all over your face as you thought about Frank and all your brief touches, all your sweet words and reassuring looks.

”Could you tell him I’ll be right here? Please? Just… let him know that even if I can’t be by his side, he’s not alone”, you whispered, and although he seemed to consider it for a second, Matt ended up nodding.

”I’m sure he’s gonna need that.”

And he wasn’t wrong. Prison was no easy feat, not even for The Punisher.

He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to you. One moment he was sitting in court, listening to his vigilante of a lawyer speak on his behalf, and the next he was being dragged out in chains with your worried face amongst the angry civilians being the last thing he saw. And the big bad Punisher had gone so far as to beg Karen to let him see you for the second time; let you see him, but before she could even consider making it happen, he had been shoved into a white onesie and sent on his way to prison with his jagged memories trying hard to recall the last words you had spoken to him.

It had been something kind — that much he had decided on while sitting in his cell. You were always so fucking kind, and so understanding, even when he doubted he deserved it. You were a good person; a troubled one but you had weathered every storm and stuck to your morals, and he admired that to no end. You didn’t have a judgmental bone, not a single ounce of hatred for anyone who didn’t deserve it, sometimes not even those who did. He thought that maybe he was unworthy of your friendship and sympathy sometimes, but you gave it to him anyway, without question and without expectation. You liked him for who he was, not who he had been, and you didn’t try to change his mind and steer his path.

At least he had the message Red had passed onto him to keep him going.

It was those unexplainably good-hearted intentions of yours and the unconditional support he hadn’t realized he missed so much, that made him fall in love with you. He struggled with it for a while, wondering if he was ready; if he should have felt guilty, but eventually the desire to keep you safe and the longing to hold you close became too evident to ignore.

And he truly knew when one of the assholes he had put down had taunted him about his lady, only for his mind to go to you instead of Maria.

He had been writing a letter to you when his heart-pouring onto paper was interrupted by a taunting laugh outside his cell. ”Writing a love letter to your lady?” one of the gang members in his block teased, and with a grit in his teeth, Frank forced himself to not pick a fight — a successful attempt until the burly man went on. ”Would be a shame if anyone got their hands on your girl now that you ain’t out there to protect—”, he continued, his words cut off with a wheeze when Frank clamored out of his seat and promptly stabbed the pen into his neck. It was a good thing he had already signed the letter.

Realistically, he knew it may have been an empty threat. Nonetheless, as soon as he was out of prison, the letter tucked in the pocket of his jacket, he made his way to you. Making you were safe was priority number one — and if he’d get the chance to hand over the envelope and open his heart to you… Well, that would just be the cherry on top. He had promised to get out and tell you how he felt, to stop being a coward and admit that he wanted to be there for you, that he loved you, and that was exactly what he planned on doing.

Although, things never went exactly as planned.

He had so much determination and courage in his heart when he knocked on your door, but as soon as you opened it and your short figure appeared right in front of him, it all drained from his system. All he was left with was bare amazement and the reserved hope that you’d still welcome him into your home — he knew he had burned more than enough bridges with his little stunt in court, and he had spent many sleepless nights wondering if he had scared you off, too. That worry only now flared into a genuine fear as he watched astonishment wipe across your face, his own expression meek and his large body trying to shrink on itself to seem less intimidating.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he managed, his voice raspy as ever, his dark eyes scanning your face and trying to make sense of the speechless trance you had been stunned into.

It was justified, of course. Who would expect a convicted criminal on their doorstep?

That wasn’t exactly what was on your mind, though. You had never doubted that Frank would get back up somehow; he couldn’t be kept down — but you couldn’t believe he had come to you. A man like him surely had places to be, people to kill, things to do and somehow… he was right there in front of you in all his glory, not bleeding out and in need of stitches, either. Just… there.

You didn’t realize how emotional the sight of him had gotten you until you opened your mouth and the words escaped you with a choke. ”Is it okay if I hug you?” you cracked, and with a deep, even relieved sigh, Frank let his tense shoulders drop and his head bob in a nod as he opened his arms.

He welcomed you gladly, his big arms winding around your smaller body to encompass you against his entirely. He realized then that you were wrapped up in one of the hoodies he had left behind, his confidence boosting but his heart breaking just a little at the thought of you sitting at home alone in his clothes, comforted by his scent and wondering if he’d ever come back to you. And right there and then, he knew he had made the right choice in doing so.

”I missed you”, you whispered into his chest, your heart doing somersaults at the firmness of it, your eyes fallen shut as you breathed him in and basked in his warmth and all his rough edges that only confirmed he was real and not a figment of your imagination, not a daydream, even if he had occupied nearly all of them for the past months.

”Missed ya too, girl”, he muttered into your hair, and as he held you there, grateful to have you again, the doubt began creeping in and the letter in his pocket started to seem like a bad idea. What if it would simply push you away, just when he got you in his arms?

Swallowing, he then decided maybe it was better not to bring it up.

”Hey, I, uh…”, he cleared his throat when you stepped back to welcome him into your apartment. He treaded carefully, like any second now you’d change your mind and turn him away — and he wouldn’t blame you, either. Trouble followed him wherever he went, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from coming to you every time. ”Look, there’s… a lot going on, y’know? Some shit might go down and I just…”, he continued, uncertain of his own words as his gaze fell to the nervously fiddling hands in front of him, ”I don’t want ya to look at the news and rethink the kinda guy I am, y’know?”

Chuckling, you shook your head at him. ”The news couldn’t change my mind about you, Frankie”, you reassured in a way that had his chest tightening. ”You’re my friend and—and a good guy, even if with… unique methods. But you are. Just because you have blood on your hands, doesn’t make you a bad man”, you went on, but he could tell you were nervous, too. He just couldn’t see past himself enough to understand it wasn’t fear making you tremble.

”I think you are loyal and sweet and protective and… capable of making people feel safe and appreciated. When I’m with you, I feel respected and understood. Never judged or unsafe”, you added, and with an amazed twinkle in his dark eyes, Frank looked up at you. Jesus, that was exactly how he felt around you. His lungs and throat were screaming at him to just tell you, but instead, he gave you a doubtful tilt of his head.

”You’re not scared?” he confirmed quietly, and with a small smile, you gave him a look.

”I’m not scared of you, Frank. I’m…”, you breathed in, hesitating before widening your smile and shaking your head, ”I’m not scared.” What you really wanted to tell was that you were nervous because you liked him — loved him. But you never felt threatened by him.

”Good”, he swallowed, defiance suddenly ablaze in his eyes as he seemed to relax. ”’Cause I’d never hurt ya. Shit, you make me wanna…”, he laughed, unsure where he was going with that thought. ”I just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. Look after you”, he finished with a sigh, the kind that knew he was officially in too deep. You got him good.

”Then I’ll look after you, too”, you promised, gesturing at his hands, ”starting with those knuckles of yours.”

He was almost amused, but when you seriously dug a small tube of hand cream from your bag and began rubbing the lotion onto his bruised hands, all he could do was stare at you, completely enamored by your kindness and the feeling of your gentle hands tending to his damaged ones.

It was almost ironic, really — you were gentle, he was damaged. In your mind, it was the other way around, and maybe that was why it worked. You were different in so many ways but the bare essentials were still there, making you an undeniable match even if neither of you were brave enough to say it out loud right now. But him being in your apartment and you lotioning his calloused hands spoke in volumes, reassuring you both that it was safe like this.

He hadn’t been wrong, though. Shit hit the fan fast and in a matter of days, Frank Castle was a dead man as far as the world was concerned.

Before that, though, he was coaxed further into the realization of just how important you were to him. He was used to nightmares, in fact, he anticipated them each night. And yet, that night, his hands still smelling like your vanilla lotion, he found himself dreaming of you, your big smile, your sweet laugh and your soft lips.

Jesus Christ, he wanted you so bad. All of you.

It was a little harder to go about his mission then. You occupied his mind constantly now, and he began to resent himself for being such a coward and not giving you the letter, after all.

And when he jumped off an exploding ship, he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you. Once he made it out in one piece, he decided he couldn’t risk losing the opportunity again.

You had just seen the news on the TV, and as badly as you wanted to believe no body meant no death, your stomach was twisting and turning. The idea of Frank being gone, just like that, was one that began chipping at your sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get to sit with it for very long when there was a knock on your door, and you practically ran to open it, never more relieved to see the hunk of a man.

You tugged him into your apartment and sealed the door behind him before hugging him tight, on the verge of tears as you felt his firm body against yours and consoled yourself. He was there. He was alive. Well? Debatable.

”I’m okay, sweetheart, ’m okay. Can’t get rid of me that easy”, he chuckled darkly, his heart skipping a beat when you pulled away and looked right into his eyes. You looked so beautiful yet so vulnerable, and he couldn’t put his feelings into words when he realized he had gotten you so worked up. He hated to cause you any pain, but to know you cared that much?

”Shit…”, he breathed, licking his lips as he gently placed a hand on your jaw and groaned. ”C’mere”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss you, both your eyes closing as he placed his lips on yours, deep and tentative. You melted closer to him, your hands resting on his vest while he cupped your face and kissed you hard, breathing you in and reveling in the taste and feeling of you.

It was better than he had imagined, all anger and hatred leaving his system for the fleeting moment when he got to have just you, nothing else.

He wanted to take his sweet time with you but the yearning was too great to contain. In no time, you were lying on your back on your mattress with Frank on top of you, trying to hold back some of his weight as he kissed your neck and unzipped your skirt. He muttered words of praise and flattery against your soft skin, eyes blown wide with genuine admiration when he kissed his way down to your thighs and made you repeat his name in desperate begs and pleas.

A part of him was sure he was dreaming again, your head rested upon his bare chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you listened to his heartbeat and basked in the afterglow of the hours spent together. It was the middle of the night by now, the sounds of city never fully gone but toned down, your bed feeling like a safe haven amidst all the chaos around you both.

But Frank knew there was no permanent escape from what he had reshaped his life into. The thing was, you didn’t want to be an escape — you wanted to be part of it.

Nevertheless, he spoke up gruffly. ”Y’know I can’t stay, right?” he was quiet, his words a weak whisper, like a shameful confession he didn’t want the world to know. ”I mean, I’mma be with you tonight if you’ll let me, but I… I can’t leave things unfinished. The world thinks ’m dead, y’know, that’s just… It’s an advantage and I just—”, he went on, but you interjected with a nod and your hand smoothing up and down his chest soothingly.

”I know. I understand”, you promised before kissing his collarbone softly, ”I know, Frank. You don’t need to explain any more than you want to.”

He swallowed then, trying to muster up the courage to say what had been on his mind for so long. ”I, uh, I can’t ask you to hold out hope for me, but uh… I just want you to know…”, he tried to find the right words, licking his lips nervously before sighing and burying his face in your hair with a somber kiss. ”You don’t owe me shit. But you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long time. Look, I gotta do my thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s easy to walk away from you because, fuck… I don’t wanna lose ya, sweetheart”, he explained further, making you smile against his scarred skin.

”I will always hold out hope for you, Frank. My door will always be open for you”, you replied simply, and even though you didn’t elaborate further, it was all he needed to hear. Just knowing you weren’t ready to give up on him.

And that was why he wasn’t going to do it, either.

He kept in touch in whatever small, Frank-esque ways he could. A note on your door, a novelty mug on your windowsill, a comforting message from an unknown number. Sometimes all you had was the remains of his aftershave enveloped in the sweaters he had left behind, or the slander of his name on the news even when he was presumed dead — it was small but it reminded you that he was, in fact, alive, and as long as he was that, then you had faith that one day he’d be back on your doorstep.

Sometimes he felt like an irredeemable asshole for making you wait for him. If only you had the chance, you would have told him to get his head out of his ass — you had fallen for him, and whether he wanted you to be there or not, you would have thought about him, worried over him, longed for him. He could have tried to distance himself from you if he wanted to, but he was so deeply entwined into your life by now that all the roots simply couldn’t be plucked out anymore.

And he may have been stubborn, but he wasn’t stupid. Knowing how he felt about you, how being away from you made him ache, he suspected you shared the yearning and he knew that trying to push you away wouldn’t have healed either of you from it. So he kept in contact however he could, but not too close to keep his enemies off your trail.

You checked the news every day. And when you saw Billy Russo’s face plastered across your screen, his arrest making the headlines, you knew it was a good day.

Accordingly, there was promptly a knock on your door, and you felt your heart soar as you peeked through the peephole and saw the only man worth waiting for on the other side. You swung the door open, and in an instant, a smile stretched across his bruised face as he help up a bouquet of daffodils, making you grin, too.

”Hey, sweetheart”, he murmured, pulling you into a hug that shut off your senses from everything but him — all you smelled, felt and heard was him, your systems threatening to fail as you clung onto him like your life depended on it and felt his lips leave soft kisses on your forehead and hair. ”There ya are. As goddamn beautiful as I remembered”, he whispered, relieved to be holding you again, even a little proud of himself for making it here.

It wasn’t like he needed the extra motivation on all those long nights away — avenging his family was all the fuel he craved, but knowing that at the end of it all, he had someone to fall back on, encouraged him even more.

”I could say the same about you”, you chuckled while pulling away enough to place a gentle hand on his face and observe all the purple and yellow markings left there. It was obvious he had taken a beating, but if the news was to be trusted, Billy had suffered a fate much worse. And despite all the slowly healing scars on Frank’s sharp features, he was alive, and he was right there for you to admire and tend to.

”This ugly mug?” he snorted while kicking the door shut and pushing his hood off of his head, his hair grown out again and begging for your fingers to run through. Regardless of the mangled appearance, though, he seemed almost hopeful, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He seemed exhausted physically, but mentally, a little less tired. And that made you indescribably happy for him.

”I’m proud of you”, you breathed out, a smile crawling to your own face, ”you did what you needed to do, right? You… you did good. You deserve to rest now.”

Frank looked a little taken aback by your words. Not in a bad way, but it was obvious no one had told him before nor had he expected anyone to. But the quiet chuckle that rose from his throat was genuinely flattered, as was the squint of his eyes as he leaned forward and gave you a tiny nod.

”Thank you, sweetheart. Really”, he rasped before taking in a deep breath, ”any chance I’d, uh, get to rest here? With you?” The look in his eyes was almost boyish, almost nervous, and it made your heart soar the same way his gaze had the first night you had met.

”Always, Frankie”, you promised before placing a hand on his chest and beaming up at him, ”I was hoping you’d say that.”

He licked his lips and looked down at you, hand coming to your neck tenderly with his thumb brushing across your chin. ”I feel like shit for the way I left you back then. I, uh, I hope you didn’t feel like I was just… tryna get in your bed, y’know? It was more than that to me. You are more than that to me. It’s, I dunno, hard for me to put it into words but I care about ya. More than I have about anyone in a long time, I guess”, he explained awkwardly, but you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a single second.

You leaned up to briefly kiss him, and the way he leaned forward to get more made your stomach churn. Nevertheless, you pulled apart to speak your turn, your smaller hand still resting on his bruised cheek.

”I know. I never doubted it. And I don’t expect you to be anyone else but you. I want you as you, Frank”, you reassured, and with a heavy sigh, he dropped his forehead to yours.

”Girl… I want you”, he urged, and you smiled as he briefly touched your lips with the tip of his finger.

”I’m all yours, Frankie.”

#frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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