#especially because of eras tour starting

[nevergavein]

Favourite Taylor Swift Tour Outfits: (3/?)

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Call Swifties cult members or whatever but I was thinking about travelling this summer and the Eras Tour and how there was something kind of beautiful about showing up at the airport and seeing a smattering of travellers in past merch on their way to adventures, or the day after a concert seeing fans in tour merch hauling their suitcases through train stations and subways and airports and knowing that all these strangers heading to all these other places all collectively experienced this moment of time together and have all these similar yet disparate memories but everyone kind of Gets It and has these tokens to remember it.

Years from now I’m sure this whole phenomenon is going to be studied as a unique cultural moment and it’s wild that it happened in my lifetime. It just struck me that it’s so unusual to have such a rallying figure people love and come together to celebrate that love in such a welcoming, positive way. This summer feels like it’s going to be one for the books.

[hypewinter]

Okay so what if Danny was the first clone of Superman instead of Connor? I see it going like this:

Danny gets reincarnated and immediately wakes up in a pod. Once his brain catches up to what's going on around him, he quickly nopes out of his pod and takes a little tour around the facility he found himself in. Along the way he discovers some major incriminating evidence but more importantly, he discovers who his donor dad is! Hooray! So Danny takes his freshly alive little butt and that incriminating evidence all the way to his donor dad's house.

Enter Clark, who is very unsure how to feel when a boy shows up at his door, claiming to be his clone and with evidence to boot! On one hand he's glad this clone doesn't appear to hurt or anything but on the other hand, his dna was taken without his permission to make an entirely new person!? He knows none of this is his fault but at the same time, why is this suddenly Clark's responsibility? But the kid just escaped a dangerous facility on his own. But what if the kid was brainwashed to believe he escaped but is really a spy after all? Is Clark supposed to take care of regardless? After all he didn't even want kids! At least not that soon but then again....

Danny takes one hard look at Clark's wishy washy bs and just goes "Yeah no bud, that's not how this works. Neither of us asked to be in this situation but we're in it now so you're just gonna have to deal." Basically, he shames Clark into taking care of him. Especially when the Justice League and the Kents find out and now he can tattle to other adults about how Clark's mistreating him. Danny doesn't ever hesitate to bring up what kind of hypocritical monster Clark and therefore Superman would be if he claimed to stand for truth justice and the American way while also leaving his own clone out in the cold.

And you know what? This actually works. Clark starts taking care of Danny to get everyone off his ass but then comes to find out this kid is actually kind of a riot to be around? And single fatherhood is kinda fun actually?

Basically by the time Kon comes around, Clark has settled nicely into his clone dad era and is willing to strangle anyone who would not only steal his DNA, but also dare to use his precious clone babies for evil gain. Because seriously how dare they?

[a-aexotic]

HEYYYY! So like every other mf on the planet right now I am in my hunger games era!!

Please could you write a Finnick x Reader where she is selected for the quarter quell (Maybe in her games she was lethal and killed like 10+ people?)

And when Katniss shoots the arena in catching fire she gets taken by the capitol (Like Peeta) and they torture her and shit? Then Finnick and her get there reunion she’s all like battered and bruided and it’s dead sad? Not sure if this made sense because i’m half asleep and dyselxic but let me know😭🤣

Maybe he says “It’s okay baby i got you” ??? x

hey of course i can! i hope u enjoy it babe <3 its a tiny bit long! my apologizes

cw's: angst, mentions of killing/dying, typical thg stuff, torture, ptsd, lmk if i missed anything

You were one of the youngest victors alongside Finnick, being only 15 and having won your games. You were also from District 4. You won the 68th Hunger Games, a few years after Finnick.

When you were reaped, Finnick and Mags were your mentors. Finnick came off as self absorbed and arrogant but once you started talking to him, the more you realized that was total bullshit. He wasn't how the Capitol portrayed him, he was much more caring and compassionate. He was very sympathetic to your situation, having gone through the same things.

During your time in the arena, you were one of the most ruthless tributes of all time. In the beginning, you were easily overlooked. The tributes weren't thinking that you were going to be much of a challenge because of your size and the way you carried yourself.

But that was exactly how you wanted to be portrayed. You tricked the Careers into thinking you were some naïve little girl, stabbing them in the back (literally) the first chance you got. The Capitol loved the turn of events, cheering you on.

When you had come back home, you had finally understood the intensity of what you had done. You had killed a whole group of people, ending their lives permanently. Those people had lives and family who loved them, and now they're gone because of you.

You suffered through months and months from never ending nightmares. Even getting consoled by your mother didn't help anymore; she doesn't understand. You didn't even feel worthy of food anymore.

You closed off Mags and Finnick when you had come home, driving yourself into isolation and depression. You rarely went out anymore, eating one meal a day and slept more than 80% of the day. Even sleeping couldn't mend the eternal tiredness you had, the void that filled your body.

Finnick had felt more than responsible for your pain. He gave you time before he realized he was just adding to your pain. Even when you didn't communicate back to him, Finnick visited you every day. He gave you advice and told you what he had went through after the Games as well. Eventually you opened up more to Finnick, and slowly, he had become your best friend.

He had told you that numbing it wasn't going to make it go away. He reminded you that you had him and Mags to help you with this process, and that you weren't alone despite of how you felt.

He helped you regain your sense of purpose again, your self image again. Finnick had singlehandedly helped you rebuilt your sense of self again.

He saw a part of you in him, that scared 14 year old boy who was trying to go back home to his parents. He never wanted anyone to feel that, especially you.

He promised you that he would never let anything bad ever happen to you again.

During your Victor's tour, Snow had suddenly deemed you desirable by the Capitol, wanting to sell you as he did with Finnick. Finnick couldn't risk getting involved, wanting to protect his family.

Every night in the Capitol, you were always consoled by Finnick. Every time you had to do a favor, you remember walking to Finnick's room to sleep, not baring the thought of having to sleep alone in the cold bed. He was always there, holding your hand comfortingly as you both slept.

The Capitol adored you both, nicknaming you the princess and prince of Panem. The more time you spent with Finnick, the more the media had speculated a relationship between the young victors.

You and Finnick had connected in many ways. Both having the same trauma, it was easy to talk to him and for him to understand how hard it was.

You and Finnick eventually got together a few years later, then getting married (in secret, of course) almost right after. You were both deeply in love.

Finnick found solace in the thought of always having you by his side, remembering that no one could tear you apart. That was until the Quarter Quell was announced.

You and Finnick were sitting at the edge of the couch, listening to Caesar's words carefully as he explained that this year's Hunger Games was going to be very different.

When it was announced that there will be only be Victors in this year's games, you heard dropped. You looked over at Finnick and he shared the same terrified look on his face.

--

When Annie's name had been called, you without any second thought, put up your hand. "I volunteer as tribute."

The crowd gasped and you looked over at Annie and you could tell she was a bit relived but still scared nonetheless. You immediately embraced her tightly, letting her let out a small sob. "It's okay, you're okay."

Mags looked just as terrified and you took her hand. When Finnick's name was called, you felt your stomach drop. Not only were you back in the arena, but you were with Finnick.

You looked over at Finnick and he looked prepared to fight. You both stood up and he grabbed your hand, raising it up in union.

The trainride to the Capitol was pretty uneventful. Finnick had wanted some time to think about the plan and so did you. A part of you knew what he was planning; he kill everyone else in the arena and then eventually himself, all for you.

As you sat on the bed, you felt the sadness and anger turn into numbness. No amount of crying was going to stop the Quater Quell and you had to be smart.

You didn't want to survive without Finnick. You were either winning with him or dying with him. Life would be meaningless without him.

Finnick knocked on your door slightly, before walking in. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile. He took a seat next to and took your hand.

"I have a plan."

"Finnick, I know what you're thinking, and no. You're not killing yourself for me."

Finnick looked defeated. "One of us has to survive, Y/N. For Annie. For Mags."

You look a deep inhale, looking away from Finnick. "I don't want to life without you, everything would lose all it's meaning without you."

Finnick felt his heart burst into two pieces as he squeezed your hand. You felt your eyes watering again and you couldn't help but let out another quiet cry as Finnick pulled your head in, as he embraced you tightly.

"Shh, it's okay. I promise, I won't... I won't leave you."

--

It had all happened so fast, you couldn't even comprehend what had just happened. One moment, you were with Finnick trying to find Johanna and Katniss and suddenly there was big loud boom. You were relieved for a moment; Plutarch's plan had worked. Until you realized how far away you were from the others.

You were wandering, trying to find anyone until you heard people behind you. You turned and then you saw some unfamiliar faces; suddenly, your vision went black.

Then, you woke up in a white room. You felt like your stomach had dropped out of your body once the realization hit you; the Capitol captured you.

You were strapped down to a bed and you couldn't move or shake it off. The severity of the situation had hit you; even if by some miracle you did escape, where would you go? How would you find your way to 13 and back to Finnick?

You knew how ruthless the Capitol was to everyone who disobeyed them. Your worst fears had come true and there was no getting out of here.

You heard the door open and you saw some Peacekeepers come in and then you saw the person you dreaded to see most; Snow. You felt like your whole had come crashing down, how could this nightmare become any worse?

"Hello, Y/N."

You didn't respond, resorting to stare at the wall in front of you instead.

He tutted disappointedly. "Out of all the tributes, you were the one I expected least to be involved in this mess. You are the Princess of Panem... What a shame."

You still hadn't replied and you hadn't dared to look at Snow. Months and months you spent trying to heal the trauma he had caused you, you were sure if you had to look at him now, you would break.

"I want to take mercy on you, dear Y/N. If you tell me everything you know about the rebellion, I will make sure the Peacekeepers are gentle with you."

You shook your head. "No."

He let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, I couldn't hear you. What?"

"No." You said again, louder.

He hummed in disapproval. "Okay then, you leave me no choice. You are going to regret this."

He nodded to the Peacekeepers and walked out of the room. You were then met with Peacekeepers, loosening the straps then taking you to another room.

If Snow knew one thing about you, it was that being only physical with you wouldn't hurt you enough. He had to hit you were it hurt most.

They threw you in the seemingly vacant room and immediately locking it. You were confused until you heard it.

"Y/N, help me!" Finnick's voice screamed. "Please, help me! Get up and do something, they're killing me! Please."

You looked everywhere in the dark room, trying to find the source. It kept going.

"Y/N, please! Help! What the hell are you doing, just sitting there? You are such a disappointment!" The voice started shouting. "We should've just left you to died in the arena! You are useless!"

Now this was something new. Your body was filled with panic and fear and even though you knew it was fake, you felt like you were going to throw up from all the noise.

Suddenly, Annie's voice came in as well. Then Johanna's. Then your mother's. There was nonstop noise filled with screams for help, shouting with disapproving messages. Your body couldn't handle it; it was so overwhelmed with fear that you started shaking on the ground, putting your hands on your ears but that did little to nothing.

You wanted it to stop. It was too much, you were trembling. It felt like days, just sitting there in that room listening to all those demeaning voices of your loved ones. You couldn't even think straight anymore.

It was so bad you had started to pound your head on the ground, screaming and crying. You had have enough. And then, it all stopped. Silence was foreign for you; your ears were ringing.

You were sitting on the ground, almost lifeless as the Peacekeepers took you away. Your eyes hurt from the tears, your body sore, your ears ringing and your head was pounding.

But you knew that was just the beginning.

--

You were asleep in bed and you were awakened by the door opening, you instantly jolted up. You looked over to see a group of masked men in front of you and you had started to tremble again, silent tears rolling down your face, thinking that the Peacekeepers had come again.

"No, no, no." You started to mumble to yourself.

A man came up to your and took your bruised hand slowly, rubbing it gently in silent empathy. That was the first soft touch you'd felt in a few weeks and it almost stung.

"It's okay, you're safe now. You're going to 13 now."

You had to blink a couple times, trying to process what he said. Was this a dream? You went to pinch yourself but it was real life.

He then helped you up but you couldn't help but stumble; your legs were weak, you couldn't remember the last time the Peacekeepers let you walk for this long.

As you got into the hovercraft, you saw Annie. Your eyes widened as you both ran up to each other, embracing each other. She had started to cry a little bit and so did you.

That was when it hit you. You were going to see Finnick. You were going home. You started crying into Annie's shoulder as she held you. "We're safe now, we're safe."

You had seen Johanna as well but she didn't seem too responsive. Neither did Peeta. You fell asleep on Annie's shoulder on the ride back and for the first time, you actually felt yourself drifting off calmly.

--

There were lots of doctors and nurses looking at you and asking you all sorts of questions and you tried your best to answer them. You were still in shock; you were safe. They couldn't hurt you anymore.

"Y/N?" You turned around to see Finnick. You immediately got up from the examiner's table and ran into his arms, your eyes starting to water up again.

"Finnick," you sighed slowly. You pulled away, putting your hands on his face and touched him as if he wasn't real.

"Are you.. Are you really here?"

"Yes, I'm really here." Finnick looked at you and suddenly his voice transported you back into the dark room. You quickly twisted out of his embrace and his expression changed.

His voice was back and you heard all of the nasty things he had to you. You back away, stumbling into the examiner's table and your breathing became heavy. "No, no, no, please-please go away. No."

You slid down to the floor and you closed your eyes, putting your hands on your ears and rocking back and forth trying to get that voice to stop.

Finnick ran up to you and put his hands on your knees, trying to get you to look at him. His heart broke in half; he didn't know what the Capitol had done to you but now he knows it has something to do with him.

Of course the Capitol would try to ruin him. His eyes started to tear up at the sight of you, in so much pain and panic.

You opened your eyes, Finnick in front of you. You started to cry some more before Finnick slowly went up to you, wrapping his arms around you.

When he had started wrapping your arms around you, your instinct was to push him away but his warmth was welcoming and safe and you started to focus on his touch. The voices slowly drifted away, the sounds of your silent sobs only being heard.

You then gave into Finnick's touch, falling into him and putting your head in his chest as he caressed your back gently, shushing you.

"It's okay baby, I got you. You're safe now, they can't hurt you."

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[ipseitydelrey]

cherry ☆ s. reid

ship spencer reid x afab!reader

content smut, period sex (kinda?), eating out (f!receiving), while on your period, it’s not that gross i swear, he’s a munch ur honour 🙇

word count 1.7k

summary usually during your period, you get really hot and bothered for no particular reason other than hormones. spencer offers to help out with your problem.

a/n im posting this directly after seeing a show at the moulin rouge, it’s currently 2am; this was inspired by my experience at the eras tour in stockholm

Periods are hell for you. Not just because of the cramps, or the blood, but because you just get so horny.

Now, to others it’s completely normal to masturbate while their periods are happening, either with a fingers or with a toy. Period sex is also a thing you’ve heard of, even from your friends who have often recommended the activity.

But to you, doing anything remotely like that, either by yourself or with anyone else, is a no. Mostly because of the messiness and how troublesome it would be to clean it up. So instead of getting relief by just touching youself, you always decide to wait until your period is finished to start doing sexual activities again. Besides, you only just have to go a few days without stimulation.

But this week is hard. You have the urge to just rip your underwear off and play with your clit until your wrist starts to ache all the time. It’s pure agony for you, and sometimes you find youself clenching your thighs together, or pushing your heel against your clothed pussy to get some sort of relief.

In the middle of your monthly period, one day is especially hard. You’re laying on the couch with a heating pad on your abdomen, your hair hidden in your drawstring hood, and your legs on your boyfriend Spencer’s thighs while he reads a book at 20,000 words per minute. He sometimes glances up at you from his novel whenever you squirm a bit, though you’re not sure if he thinks you’re just in pain from your cramps or if he’s able to read through you.

Besides, you know for a fact that your boyfriend won’t help you get off while you’re on your period. Spencer’s known to have a thing with germs, so there’s no way that he’ll touch your pussy, especially if it’s bleeding.

The next time you shift slightly and whine softly, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the coffee table. “Are you okay, honey?”

“‘M okay,” you respond, your voice muffled by your pillow being cuddled in your arms. You unintentionally clench your thighs together at his caring voice which unfortunately, Spencer notices.

“You sure?” He gently massages your calf, which only adds fuel to the fire. You hate that he’s a profiler now. “Just cramps?”

“Mmph…” You nods your head a bit as you hide your face in the pillow, trying to hide your soft blush.

“Maybe you’re aroused?” He asks suddenly. One of his hands moves up your leg to squeeze your thigh. Profilers.

Again, you nod your head, defeated since he can so clearly see how horny you are. “Mm-hmm.”

“I see,” he mutters under his breath, but you can hear him. Disproving your previous judgements about him, he shifts his position so that he’s directly facing you, leaving one of your legs to hang off the couch and allowing him to be between your legs.

You pull the pillow down to your chest, wanting to see what he’s trying to achieve. “What’re you doing?” you ask, your eyebrow cocked.

“Can I help you?” Spencer suggests, his hands planted on your upper thighs, close to your core.

“With what?”

“You’re aroused,” he points out again. “And you’re in pain. Studies have shown that orgasms can help subside period cramps.”

Oh, that’s probably why your friends keep recommending period sex. But you feel too tired for full-on penetration right now. Yet again, he could maybe help you in another way. “Are you sure? It’s gonna be messy, and I know you don’t like germs, and I just feel gross.” You argue self-deprecatingly.

“Well I can put a towel down.” He gets up from his position between your legs and goes off to the bathroom. From the couch, you can hear him opening cupboards before he comes back with a black towel in hand. He continues with what he was saying. “And I want to help you. It’s not gross, it’s natural. I want to make you feel good. Here, lift up your hips.”

He puts a hand on your hip to guide you as you lift your bottom half up just enough for him to place a towel down and make sure it’s flat before he guides you back down. The towel is only just there if you say yes though, which he eagerly awaits before he does anything else to you.

You sigh, and figure that this might be worth a shot. You drop the pillow to the ground in front of the couch, quickly followed by the heating pad that was on your stomach. “Okay, fine,” you say as enthusiastically as you can which, with your cramps and your tiredness, isn’t really that enthusiastic.

Still, Spencer mouths a silent “thank you” before he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants. You lift your hips up once more to make it easier when he tugs them down and off, leaving you in your underwear. Following the same pattern, he once again pulls your period panties off, and you let your hips settle onto the towel-covered couch.

His hands find their way between your thighs and he spreads them just enough for him to have access to your core, wet from your arousal and your blood. The five seconds he spends just staring at your vulnerable pussy, dripping blood onto the towel, are the most nerve-wracking five seconds of your life. You halfway convince yourself that he’s going to back out and leave you like this, horny and bloody with your pants off.

And yet, he buries his head between your legs and starts by gently kissing your heat, then licking a long stripe from the base of your slit all the way up to your sensitive clit, causing an equally long moan to erupt from the depths of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful, honey,” he says before he dives back in again, drawing circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he traps it between his lips and suckles.

You kick your legs up a bit when he focuses on your clit, the stimulation to your sensitive bud ripping sudden moans from your lips. Your hands find their way to the top of his head and you grasp on to his hair tight.

He looks up at you through his lashes, still working his lips around your clit before he moves his tongue down to your slit, licking a bit before thrusting it into your wet cunt. His thumb replaces where his tongue was before, rubbing small tight circles around the bud.

You can’t believe how good he’s making you feel right now, and you can feel your pleasurable knot in your stomach tightening because of his undeserved-but-needed efforts. You don’t know if he’s doing this for you just to be helpful — considering his complicated personal relationship with germs and the like — or if he just really enjoys eating your pussy this much. With each second that passes by having Spencer lapping at your cunt like a man starved, you start to think that it’s the latter thought.

And he can tell you like it too, with the way you moan and arch your back and even when you start to grind your clit against your nose while his tongue is deep in your pussy. Even if you’re wearing a baggy hoodie and were wearing sweatpants, he still manages to make you feel incredibly sexy. Or “sexy” is maybe not the right word — loved; you feel loved in this moment.

He appears to feel the same as well, with the way he moans in content seeing you like this and feeling your fingers nestled in his hair and tugging lightly. With every small pull, a tiny sound emits from his throat and it feels oh so pleasurable on your pussy.

Sensing your impending orgasm, he takes his tongue, wet by your slick and blood, out of your weeping hole and quickly replaces the muscle with his index finger. He slowly pushes the digit in, feeling your walls pulsate around him as he pushes and pulls it in and out in a steady rhythm. A minute later, he adds a second and starts to curl his fingers against that gooey button inside your cunt once he’s knuckle-deep into your warmth.

It’s so much for you; almost too much. Your jaw hangs open in a silent moan and you almost can’t believe it when you start to grind your hips against his thrusting fingers, fucking yourself with his index and middle as it continuously and without fail hits the spongy button everytime.

Your orgasm hits you almost unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure overflows you as your eyes flutter shut and your back arches just a bit more. Your chest heaves while you gasp for air; this is just what you needed during your period. Seeing you’re damn near overwhelmed, Spencer works you through your orgasm, your arousal forming a creamy circle around his still-working fingers.

“There we go, that’s it, you’re doing so well” are among the small praises he breathes onto your pussy while you slowly but surely come down from the high. At the same speed, his fingers slow down until they become stationery, before he pulls them out with a wet squelch, causing you to whimper softly. When your eyes meet next, he can see how glossy your eyes are with satisfcation pulling at the corners of your lips.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You half-lie with a small laugh trailing behind your words. Though to be fair, you definitely needed it.

He pulls himself up to be eye level with you while you’re still laying there on your back catching your breath. You can already see a mixture of your arousal and your blood dribbling down his chin, though he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. “No, but I wanted to.” He says with a dopey smile, still pussy drunk.

Though the lower half of his face is still covered by your juices, he tries to lean in and kiss you, only to be stopped by your hands on his shoulders and you turn your head to the side with an amused smile. “Ew! I don’t wanna taste my blood!”

Spencer scoffed playfully at your reaction. “I just ate you out and I don’t even get a kiss?”

The way he pleads just makes you melt a little and you decide to give in just a bit by gently kissing his cheek. You can feel his cheeks heat up against your lips. Despite his previous openness, he gets flustered and smiles sheepishly, sighing a little. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” you joke, your mouth still planted on his cheek.

i’ve been plane-hopping around europe for over a month so i haven’t had a lot of access to wifi + i nearly failed one of my courses bc my professor was horrible at giving feedback, hopefully this explains my absence and i hope u enjoyed this !! (i posted this in a flurry btw, lmk if there are any errors whatsoever 🫶)

taglist @queermaxwooo @theoraekenslover join the taglist!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Drivers At The Eras Tour

♥ masterlist

♥ blurbs for: lewis hamilton, george russell, oscar piastri, lando norris, and logan sargeant

♥ as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: none !!!

♥ a/n: in honor of charles, pierre, alex, and kika being at the milan show <3

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴇᴡɪs ʜᴀᴍɪʟᴛᴏɴ - He showed up in a very tortured poets department-esque outfit that instantly turned heads. I think he's a folklore fan + knows all the lyrics to so long london because he’s seen too many edits of himself set to that track. He was able to get a picture with Taylor at the end of the concert and it absolutely broke the internet within seconds.

ᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴏʀɢᴇ ʀᴜssᴇʟʟ - He's secretly (not-so secretly) a Swiftie. He's a 1989 kind of guy who surprised you with the amount of songs he actually knew. George spent some time making bracelets with you a few weeks before the concert but took hours to make a single one. He also got off topic and made ones that said 'Russell' and had a 63 on them. I'm also positive he'd become a carpenter if she was Taylor's opener the night you went.

ᡣ𐭩 ᴏsᴄᴀʀ ᴘɪᴀsᴛʀɪ - He's really confused about the costumes and bracelets but he has the spirit! On the way home he keeps asking you to play songs he liked from the concert but you could barely tell what any of them were because all his lyrics were all wrong. The next day he makes you explain all the lore regarding thanK you aIMme and the reason for Taylor's Version.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪs - He surprised you with tickets to the first Paris show right after his Miami win (because he secretly wanted to attend as well). The minute you showed up about a thousand fans gave bracelets to the both of you and he wore all of them on his wrists proudly. He was enjoying the concert but got especially into it when Fearless started. I firmly believe that You Belong With Me and Love Story were his favorite songs growing up and he still knows all the lyrics.

ᡣ𐭩 ʟᴏɢᴀɴ sᴀʀɢᴇᴀɴᴛ - You absolutely made him dress as Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince with you, but he didn’t get the reference at all. You gave him a few friendship bracelets to give to fans when they came up to him and while exchanging gifts someone gave Logan their pink cowboy hat. He was pretty sad when you didn't get Teardrops On My Guitar as a surprise song so he made you play it on the car ride home.

[guiltyasdave]

a long time coming

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You were supposed to go to a concert with your best friend. You end up going with her dad instead.

word count: ~1.1k

tags/warnings: best friend's dad!Dave, fluff, allusions to smut, huge age gap, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, please be warned: Dave has inappropriate (though reciprocated) thoughts about his daughter's best friend - if that makes you uncomfortable, don't read

a/n: daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality and i were freaking out about those new photos of pedro, and because daphne apparently wants me dead, she said that it's giving bfd!dave who's at a concert with you and also provided me with a snippet that still has me in a chokehold and that's part of this story now. i am already experiencing heavy brainrot because i'm going to the eras tour in three (3) days and this was the final nail in my coffin tbh. i should be working on my dress, but instead i did this. the most self indulgent shit i've ever written lmao, please enjoy <3

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my whole masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

“Please, daddy? Please?” 

Dave sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead. Molly’s hoarse voice keeps pleading with him before it dissolves into a fit of coughs. 

With a groan, she lets her head fall against the pillows, wide eyes still trained on him. 

“No one else wants to go, and I can’t let her go alone, I’d feel terrible. Please?” 

She pouts at him, knowing fully well that her father doesn’t deny her anything when she looks at him like this. 

“Fine. If you’re sure that she’s okay with it?” 

“She is! I already asked her.”

Dave cocks a brow at his daughter, earning himself an exhausted but triumphant grin. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It will be fun!”

Admittedly, Dave really has much more fun than he expected when his daughter all but begged him to accompany her best friend to the concert that she wanted to go to herself before she got sick. 

He knows most of the songs, has been witness to you and Molly singing along to the music while dancing through his kitchen often enough. It’s not bad music by any means, and the show is nothing short of spectacular. 

It’s not the reason he’s enjoying himself so much though. He’s barely watching the show, eyes only occasionally flicking towards the stage. 

His gaze is fixed on you, has been since before the show even started. Watching you interact with other fans, beaming smiles and giggles, eagerly exchanging bracelets, excitedly cooing at the especially pretty ones. 

Meeting your eyes when you turned to him, not able to suppress his own smile at the sparkle in them. Suppressing the flicker of something in his chest when your fingers wrapped around his wrist, tugging it closer to put a few bracelets on him as well. You don’t seem to notice the faint blush that’s rising up in his cheeks at the unexpected touch. 

He’s watching you bouncing on your feet seconds before the show starts, snaps a few photos of the pure joy on your face without you noticing. Just to send them to you later, having enough experience from being the father of two daughters to know how much you’ll love them. After that, he’ll delete them from his own phone. Of course he will. 

He’s watching you dance, your body moving to the beat of the music, your lips forming every word. Your silhouette shimmering with the lights reflecting off your dress. It’s mesmerizing. You dance with the girls beside you sometimes, shouting lyrics at each other. Other times, you turn to him. He doesn’t protest when you take his hands, starts moving with you without a second thought, starts singing the words that he knows along with you. You’re laughing, your eyes shining with pure happiness. It’s intoxicating, and he wants more, wants all of it, wants to be part of that happiness. He doesn’t remember the last time he smiled this wide, the last time his body felt this light. 

It takes a long time, longer than it should, until he remembers why this is bad. Until the weight comes crashing back into him. Until he remembers that he shouldn’t feel like this with you. 

You’re so much younger than him. His daughter’s friend. His daughter who asked him to come here with you, because she trusted that you’d be safe with him. 

Your brow furrows when you catch his eye and notice the change in his expression. No. He wants you to enjoy yourself, doesn’t want to be the reason for any kind of worry for you right now. He allows himself to drink in your energy right now, to let a smile grow on his face again. 

There’s no harm in indulging just for one night. Just a little bit. No one has to know. Least of all you. 

So he keeps singing with you, keeps letting you move with him. Keeps watching. 

It’s easy, being with you, talking to you. Effortless in a way that he’s not used to. 

It’s just because you’re at his house more often than not, going wherever Molly goes. It has to be. 

But it’s different, your giggles ringing out in the confines of his car, not mixed with his daughter’s, the sound that he knows. And he’s the one who’s elicited those laughs from you. 

"Explain it again, please. You’ve glued every single of these stones onto your dress?" He laughs and gives you another once over, glad he can disguise his inappropriate ogling with an appreciating glance. Act like he’s studying the intricate, shimmering patterns on the fabric. Not the way your tits are straining against the low cut over your chest. Not the way the skirt has ridden up your thighs, exposing a new inch of bare skin. "Great job, sweetheart. You look good. The dress looks good, too." 

He wonders how the dress would look bunched up around your waist. Or on the floor of your apartment. If your skin is as soft as it looks in the dim shine of the red light he’s stopped at. How it would taste under his tongue. The sweet sounds you would make when his teeth dig into you. 

You breathe a thank you and bite your lip at the compliment, and his cock twitches with interest. Wrong, wrong, so wrong.

He has to be imagining the way that you keep glancing his way, stealing looks when you think that he doesn’t notice. Wishful thinking on his part. 

He pulls up in front of your apartment building, killing the engine and turning towards you. You’re already facing him, more shy than you’ve looked all evening. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say softly, lips pulling up into another smile. “I’ve had a great time. I— I hope you did too.” 

His hand lands on your thigh before he can actively think about it. A soft gasp escapes you, but you make no move to back away from his touch. 

“Trust me, I did.” 

He doesn’t intend for it to come out as low and breathy as it does. Teeth dig into your lips once more. Your contemplative gaze burns into him. 

You inch closer, close enough that he can feel your breath against his face. 

Wrong. He swallows thickly, forces his grip off of you. You blink, eyes growing wider, the growing tension’s fog lifting from you. Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter. 

“Good night, sweetheart.” 

He needs you to leave this car. Right now. 

You nod, shakily bidding him a good night as well. 

He watches your retreating silhouette, finally able to exhale deeply when you enter your building. 

He’s fucked.

comments and reblogs are love and make my day every single time <3

[ambros1an]

hsr x gn!reader relationship hcs

warnings: penacony spoilers (2.0+), bug mention (screwllum), angsty (aventurine & acheron), ocd mention (sunday), slight dark content (ie stalking) at end in Sundays but it’s marked in red to avoid if uncomfy

characters: sunday, screwllum, acheron, aventurine

a/n: i feel like it’s so obvious i did like 2 of these a week later 💀 i need more Sunday content in game

sunday

❧ if you manage to get past Sunday’s formal exterior, what lies behind it is a complete “know-it-all.”

❧let him nerd out about the greatest books in the current and past amber eras. he’ll make sure to tell you all about the authors too.

❧if the two of you have liking books in common, congrats! he’ll bring you on a tour to the primal waking library where you can chat all about it.

❧sunday’s compulsions become even worse with you around. is his shirt properly tucked in? he hopes there’s no wrinkles, maybe he should iron all his shirts again. oh gosh-are his shoes untied? you don’t even notice this. he’s used to hiding his true feelings.

❧he definitely confesses first. he’s aware that his status can be a hindrance when forming genuine relationships.

❧ maybe afterwards he’ll let you touch his wings. he loves the feeling of you stroking his feathers. especially when those annoying pin feathers grow in. the biggest sign of trust amongst birds- and sunday of course.

❧ and obviously you always get free vip to robin’s shows.

❧before and after the “Robin incident” are two very different Sundays.

❧the after, is a very possessive Sunday. he can’t have you become like Robin. he uses nightingales to keep watch on you, to make sure you’re safe. he knows it’s unhealthy but he just lost his sister, he can’t lose you too.

-

Aventurine

❧aventurine’s flirty facade fools most people. they think he’s sleazy and untrustworthy, and so do you in the beginning.

❧at first he talks to you because he thinks your reactions are amusing.

❧eventually your relationship gets too deep for comfort.

❧this guy will never open up. if he has feelings for you, you’ll never know. it’s not because he’s ashamed. it’s because he cannot comprehend someone actually liking him.

❧the only way he’ll confess is if you do it first. and even then he plays it off like a joke, something he can’t even believe. it takes a lot of button pressing to get him to admit his feelings.

❧aventurine is a very vulnerable person. he may rub off insults but they still hurt him deep.

❧the first time you hug him, he is baffled. affection has been foreign to him since the extinction event.

❧worming your way into his heart will get you even more riches then before. sure, he hands out money like nothing, but to you? that credit card is unlimited.

❧”what, that’s all?” he encourages you to spend.

❧brings you to casinos for good luck. not as if he needed any, but with you at least his hand doesn’t shake.

-

screwllum

❧ it isn’t uncommon for inorganic species to feel love. just as it isn’t uncommon for organic species not to.

❧ Screwllum, however, hasn’t experienced that feeling.

❧ he sees the way organic species love in a way he hasn’t. as a genius society member and one interested in life itself, how could he not be interested.

❧ which is why when he starts feeling a fluttering in his chest whenever you’re around, he must get to the bottom of it!

❧ confesses instantly. he has zero experience yet remains so confident.

❧ immediately takes time out of his day to interact with you. in whatever way possible.

❧ it could be the busiest day of his life and he’ll still make time for you.

❧ he’s described as a gentlemen by his close companions. this means opening doors for you, taking you out to places, etc.

❧ sounds too good to be true. but it is true.

❧ his one flaw, if you can even call it that, is his love for all life. and that includes bugs! no smashing them on his watch! he’s picking them up before you even get the chance.

❧ if you like bugs, even better. he’ll gently pick them up and talk about them with you. the two of you can take turns.

-

Acheron

❧ the first time you meet her, you think she’s a polite but introverted lady. she claims to be a galaxy ranger and you have no reason to doubt her.

❧ her blunt way of speaking leaves no room for questions.

❧ that is, until you get too entangled in each other’s destines.

❧ your first meeting with acheron, wasn’t actually your first. you’ve met her many times. every time though she seems not to know you.

❧ Acheron lies to protect you. just as she lied about being a galaxy ranger, she lies that she has no feelings whatsoever towards you.

❧ perhaps you remind her of someone she once knew.

❧ on some days, acheron traverses through her memories to look for you. she sees the hurt look in your eyes, but sees your smiles too. the path of a self-annihilater is a lonely one.

❧ ultimately, if you manage to convince her with words and actions that you truly care for her. she will put forth that effort tenfold. she desperately doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

❧ acheron is very protective towards you. if there’s a hint of danger, she’ll encourage you to take her with you. even going on her own to eliminate it herself.

credit to @/miau-meow-miau for first divider 🫶

[cityofmeliora]

notes / thoughts on Terzo's characterization (Terzo is so disappointed and depressed and i love him)

a few weeks ago i saw this post from slavghoul which has snippets of TF describing the Papas. it includes this quote:

“He represents this frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself. But despite his wounds and his darkness, he has a sense of humour and is endearing, like most of my heroes. The late actor Christopher Lee was an inspiration to me. In many ways, he is Papa.” (Metallian 7/2015)

i thought this quote was really interesting because i'd never seen anyone talking about that side of Terzo before. Terzo hating "everyone, especially himself" felt at odds with the charming personality he typically displayed. i wanted to know how that developed and where his "wounds and darkness" came from. so i did some digging for quotes on Terzo's history and characterization. here are my notes + thoughts:

something that came up again and again in my research is that he is actually quite antisocial when he's not performing. it seems like he didn't want people to know anything about him past his stage persona.

TOUR MANAGER: No one in the crew really gets to see or speak to Papa, ever. Only Anna and myself have access. He is not in the building and then he'll just be there, just for show time. The only thing you really need to know about Papa is what you see of him on stage. Ghost - The Devil's Hands (Documentary) (2017)

he almost never interacted with any of the nameless ghouls or the tour crew. in fact, he really went out of his way to avoid them. he traveled separately, would appear right before the start of a show, and then he would disappear as soon as it ended. in "The Devil's Hands", it showed they sometimes had trouble locating him when he was needed.

With this new era, can you introduce Papa Emeritus III? NAMELESS GHOUL: I don't know him very well yet. We haven't really done our mileage with him, so I am sure that we will find out. But he seems nice. He seems okay. Obviously, he's very close relatives with Papa number two, who was a little bit of a hmm. I'm sure that he isn't like, completely different, but we'll find out. He's a bit of a recluse, and he sort of travels on his own. And he sort of appears when we're due onstage and then he disappears when we're offstage. So yeah, I guess we have a little bit of a social disconnect there, but I don't see a big problem with that. I mean he seems to be doing well on his own, and I don't know if he has a little harem somewhere that occupies his time offstage, I guess. I'm assuming that. Loud TV (July 2015)

INTERVIEWER: How has it been working with the third Papa? How is he fitting into the group? NAMELESS GHOUL: We like him, actually. He seems to be quite nice. Obviously, we haven't really done our "miles" with him yet, so we don't know him that well. And he doesn't travel with us- he sort of goes separately everywhere, and he appears just before the show and then he just disappears. So we haven't really had the time to sort of fully get to know him. But overall, he seems quite a joyful chap. Metal Injection (September 2015)

predictably, his bandmates did not know him very well. but they always remarked that they liked him and that he seemed like a nice, chill guy. (they also assumed he had a harem that he spent time with when he wasn't performing, which is probably not true, considering how much effort he put into avoiding people whenever possible.)

NAMELESS GHOUL: We don't really socialize with Papa, so… But he seems nice! But he's very occupied in his harem. [...] He's a little bit cooler. He seems to be the nicer of the two brothers --I don't know if there are two-- but he seems to have, I don't know, a kinder mother, probably, or something that makes him slightly.. INTERVIEWER: A little different. NAMELESS GHOUL: Yeah, he's a little bit different. AMBY (October 2015)

i don't think his charming, pleasant demeanor was just an act, though. i think it did come from a genuine part of himself... he wasn't always an antisocial recluse.

before he became Papa, he was a cardinal in Krakow, Poland. Bishop Necropolitus Cracoviensis (the character representing Zbigniew Bielak, the artist who does the album art for Ghost) characterized younger Terzo as having enthusiasm in all his endeavors. he was always a very devoted member of the clergy who had big dreams of progress and modernization for the Ministry and the world. he had a strong interest in Futurist art and philosophy.

Bp. Necropolitus Cracoviensis remembers: "...our relationship goes a long way back to the times before his papacy, that is when he was still a cardinal in my hometown, in Cracovia...(...) Although we had our share of juvenile recklessness - be it indulging his beloved cream pies - allegedly verging on six hundred sixty six portions a year but that must be a rumor I believe, or wild parties at the attic of seminary school (laughs) - even in his formative years, he remained a focused man of vision, looking far into the future, always addressing his people's needs and longings to keep our church together in those turbulent, rapidly changing times (...) there were so many temptations to syndicate among our good people (...) (...) We would sit down to studying exciting Futurist manifestos, sketched the blueprints of utopian metropoles, spiked with shiny skyscrapers stabbing at the heavens belly... Wantonly swollen zeppelins would to carry our gospel of indulgence to the farthest corners of the globe to summon and enslave. (...) Forged in nostalgia of steam and fire, this brave new world of ambition, vice, lust and greed - all so inherent to the enlightened modernity, was always with him through all these years. And it is now - when our church continues to grow stronger and wealthier under wise reign of Papa Emeritus III - that these visions may finally be witnessed and embraced in the preachings of 'Meliora' - his most contemporary and humane Encyclical." (https://www.facebook.com/thebandghost/posts/994031900615606)

those core values of ambition, vice, lust, and greed stayed with him when he became Papa. though he had a revolutionary spirit, he's actually described as "less rebellious" in Metal Myths. Terzo took his job as Papa very seriously, and he cared about being successful and achieving his goals. while he and Secondo certainly had vice, lust, and greed in common, it was Terzo's ambition that truly set him apart.

"It felt like the goal was to take Papa II's sense of modernity and remove the recklessness." Metal Myths: Ghost Pt. 2 (April 2022)

How would you describe the personality of Papa Emeritus III compared to his predecessors? NAMELESS GHOUL: "First of all, Papa Emeritus III is an entertainer! He loves projectors, he loves the public, and he loves success. The first Papa Emeritus was someone very rigid, very strict, and very solemn. A real son of a bitch! (laughs) To be honest, we don’t miss him at all! Papa Emeritus II was a pervert a little bit sadistic, and, in hindsight, I think he wasn’t very at ease on stage. He wasn’t a showman, unlike Papa Emeritus III! Him, he’s the guide we missed to rise up the quality of our shows, to reach the step above and communicate with our fans." (MyRock #44 (2017) translated from French by @ a-wandering-ghoulette)

unfortunately, his ambition eventually led him to become disillusioned and depressed.

Terzo looked forward to becoming Papa. he worked so hard for it his whole life, only to be confronted with the realization that his time as Papa --and therefore his achievements-- would be limited.

he was a nice guy, but he was also was egotistical. he was a showman and an intellectual, and he thought very highly of himself.

NAMELESS GHOUL: He's a little bit more chill. But obviously, all the Papas are definitely pompous assholes. INTERVIEWER: That's part of the job. SPECIAL GHOUL: That's one of the criterias, the prerequisites, that you have to be this sort of flamboyant diva, know-all, show-off. Metal Injection (September 2015)

his self-hatred came from his inability to be the person he wanted to be. it's not that he felt like he couldn't measure up, it's that he felt like he wasn't allowed to express his full potential. Terzo's mindset was "i know i'm good enough. and i could prove it if they would just let me." but he wasn't really in charge, and his vision was at odds with the goals of Sister Imperator.

Terzo felt so stifled, it makes sense that he became a "frustrated old guy who hates everyone, especially himself."

and i think this is the reason for the paradox of him having a kind, charming personality onstage and being unsociable offstage. he still gave it his all. he did the best he could with the time and resources he was allowed. that zealous man of the people was still in there somewhere. but he felt betrayed by the clergy, the organization he dedicated his life to. his career ended up being unfulfilling and he was ultimately really bitter about the way things turned out.

he was good. he never got to be great.

[twobluejeans]

HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 5: relevancy, part 4: emo ponytail girl, part 3: dupeee, part 2: wtf does ET know?, part 1: don’t start

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 5! the drama goes on. a lot of tswift references 🫶

INSTAGRAM, july 12

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yourinstagram. thank u amsterdam for an incredible 2 nights, had so much fun here. also thank u to alyssa and cami who allowed me to post these photos of them on here, great song choice btw💋

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INSTAGRAM, july 13

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yourinstagram you asked for it, we listened: mother and i went back into the studio specifically to record more lana on snow on the beach. love u @honeymoon. it will be a part of the new midnights (til dawn edition) deluxe album that you can preorder now at my online website (link in bio!)

as many of you know, when i released midnights 7 months ago, the original concept was fun, dreamy, n honestly a reflection of how i felt at the time. after going through a rather tragic breakup, i cannot see the album the same anymore because it isn't how i feel. it's not me. i revised the entire project during some free time between tour with some amazing people, and in a way, i'm grateful for that breakup! it inspired two, beautiful songs and an edition of the album that you will all be hearing soon. to make a long story short: my new single you’re losing me will be out midnight, 7/17!

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TWITTER, july 13

INSTAGRAM, july 13

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lolaransdell unapologetic

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y/nslastkiss girl we can tell💀

grapejuicebluesy/n BYEEEE

verstappensainz55 girl u know what ur doing atp

selenagomezfan31 u wanna be her so bad 😭

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INSTAGRAM, july 14

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lolaransdell just an appreciation post 🤍

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charlidamelio i love you both so much!!

lolaleclerc16 you two are so adorable charles is so lucky

lolaransdell lolaleclerc16 i don't know ... I'm feeling like i hit the jackpot a bit more than he did :)

zenday/n lolaransdell definitely not babe 🔥🔥🔥

emmachamerlain my favorite couple i'm living for this

charlesandlolaupdates i still don't know who i wanna be more

lolaforce happy lola is my fave 🤍

daviastylessx you two are so cute 🥲 i'm glad you guys found each other especially after charles’s last relationship

lolaransdell davinastylessx i'm glad we found each other too! he makes me so happy and i try my best to do the same for him. we both have never felt love like this before

charlesforever lolaransdell ^ was that shade?

lolaransdell charlesforver no shade at all ! just being honest :)

TWITTER, july 14

ally’s radio 📻: thus the birth of the revenge era. sorry this was a short chapter, but i couldn’t leave my children starved. next one is better.

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @pejarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27

[13uswntimagines]

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

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

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

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

July, 2015

We were both young when I first saw you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretty spectacular isn’t it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged again, your grin turning impish.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrugged. “So?” 

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

It was a fundamental part of your personality after all. 

“Y/n I’m serious,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tay!” 

“That was an amazing show,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

September, 2015

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

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

But as it turned out, Taylor did text you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “I don’t flop,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It also saved your mother’s sanity. 

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

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

She rolled her eyes. “Try for me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she couldn’t be into you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

December 2015

Barefoot in the kitchen

Sacred new beginnings 

That became my religion, listen

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

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned. “Never ever?” 

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

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

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

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

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

A thoughtful look crossed her face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they dating?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was your friend. 

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

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

“You didn’t just do that,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Missed me, loser,” 

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

You would not be a loser. 

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

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

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

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

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

Her face was red when you dropped your shirt. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wrinkled your nose. “Bummer,”

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

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

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

You would tolerate baking if it was with Taylor. 

*****

March, 2016

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

She made a face at you. 

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

Now it felt like she barely knew you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” You asked, examining the cookie. 

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

You glanced down at the device. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Kelley frowned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just fine?”

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

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

Lots of practice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wasn’t sure when that changed. 

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

“Promise?” She asked you, more softly. 

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

“With my pinky,” 

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

But she didn't. 

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

Maybe it was slightly more than slightly…

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

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

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

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

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

And… she groaned, swiping to the next picture. 

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

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

She rolled her eyes. 

She knew differently. 

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

She sighed again, scrolling past the pictures. 

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

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

It was a picture of a bag of cookies.

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

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

I can make you more when you visit me

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

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

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

*****

June 2016

I watched from a distance as you Made life your own

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She must be at the studio. 

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

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

Taylor rolled her eyes at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You doubted they’d make the connection anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plus she was straight. 

It was too cliche for you to handle. 

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

It never turned out well when they pushed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She wouldn’t let Emily either. 

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

“Come on Sonny, make your move,”

******

July 2016

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

2016 was the summer of the apocalypse. 

There was no other way to put it. 

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

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

But you missed it. Badly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5

4

3

2

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you just liked hanging out with her.

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

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

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

Blondie 👱🏻‍♀️🎤: ???

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her frown deepened. “You sound drunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/n?”

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

She shook her head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoOo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded. “That would be great,” 

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

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

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

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

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

You looked so young in your sleep.

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

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

“Tay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her eyebrows furrowed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe one day she would ask you. 

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

How had you scared her? Did you call her? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A dark look crossed your features. 

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

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

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

You shook your head. “This is different,” 

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

If only you could be like your perfect older sister. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

She raised her eyebrow at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It would be easy. 

And frankly, it was easy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The team brought in less money when they lost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor nodded slowly, taking another bite of her burrito. 

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

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

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

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

Your whole face lit up. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor hummed. He was right. 

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

Tonight you hadn’t done that. 

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

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

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

Taylor’s head tilted. 

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

But this felt different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OoOoOoO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 And Taylor…

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

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

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

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

You blew out another breath. 

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

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

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

You were just… lost. 

You had never felt so… attached before. 

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

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

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

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

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

She was definitely going to make fun of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked at her. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t ready for that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squinted. “Just go with it?”

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

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

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

“Ok,” You said. “Thank you,” 

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

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

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

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

[artdcnaldson]

it’s evil art and stepcest o’clock !!!

stanford era art sending patrick videos of himself fucking pat’s stepsister!reader ,, your mom married patrick’s dad ago when all of you were still in high school. it was abrupt to say the least, one day pat walks into his family’s estate for the start of winter break and all of a sudden there’s a girl his age glaring at him in the kitchen. getting close to you was like calming down a feral animal, but eventually you and patrick reached a closeness no one expected. art has always been an extension of patrick, so naturally the three of you became a little trio, especially when you have a little saltburn summer together at one of patrick’s estates before you and art go off to stanford and patrick heads out on tour.

and the thing is, art is more perceptive than either of you give him credit for. he sees the way you two look at each other, the lingering looks and the touches that last a little too long. so he starts testing the waters. he flirts with you, gets closer to you than he needs to when you talk, takes you out on the tennis court early in the morning to “help him practice” so when pat wakes up he sees you coming back inside laughing together. patrick fucking seethes every time, but he refuses to say anything. art even teases him about it when they’re alone, runs a hand up patrick’s thigh and says things like “don’t you wish this was her doing this to you?” and of course patrick caves, admits his wants when art takes his dick down his throat, but he never makes a move. he never crosses the line. so, art starts trying with you, too. he’ll sneak into your room (usually after he’s done with patrick) and touch you slow, pinch your nipples, ghost his fingers over your clit. he never goes too far, just gets you worked up and makes you cum on his fingers. all while whispering, “wouldn’t his fingers feel so good in this little pussy?”

he spends the whole summer working both of you up and still nothing happens, so when you and him are alone at stanford together he decides to push again. selfishly, he knows he’s also doing this for himself. he’d be deluding himself if he said he hadn’t wanted to fuck you from the moment he laid eyes on you. honestly, him keeping himself from doing it every time he dipped his fingers in your wet pussy should win him a fucking medal of honor. now though, now he has you with your chest pinned to the bed, sobbing directly into his shitty phone camera, begging for patrick while you fuck yourself back on his dick. “go on baby, tell pat what you told me,” he pants.

“please- fuck— please come visit pat, want- want you so bad- ‘m sorry i didn’t say! ‘m sorry- ‘m sorry!”

patrick’s never booked a flight faster in his life <33

RAHHH RAHH RAHHHH

Art takes one look at you and Patrick’s sappy, lovebird expressions and your refusal to ever actually fucking do something and he just snaps. He’ll be a good friend, he’ll fix it for Patrick, just like Patrick helped him with so many of his crushes that weren’t going to fucking go anywhere.

Of course you think Art’s hot, you think he’s sweet, and he’s smart, and he gives you all the attention you could want. And the best thing is, your mom isn’t fucking married to his dad. So you don’t mind when he kisses you, when he has you pinned onto your bed and moves his hand under your shirt to play with your tits. His mouth tastes like Patrick’s sometimes, and you always kiss him harder when he does.

And he knows— you know he knows how you feel about Patrick, because he teases you about it, always when he’s got his fingers buried inside of you and you’re right on the brink. Don’t you think Patrick’s fingers would feel so good stretching out your tight little pussy? Don’t you wish he’d just fuck you the way you want? Just pin you down and claim your pussy as his own? Oh, fuck, I can feel you clenching around my fingers, you want him so bad. You want your step brother bullying this little pussy, he’s so mean for keeping his cock from you, huh?

It makes you cum every time, gushing around his fingers, mouth open and pink as you cry out with pretty moans. Art licks inside, kisses you hungry and desperate while you fist his cock in your hand. You always want him to fuck you, but he just tells you not tonight. A good friend wouldn’t fuck their best friend’s crush, would they?

Patrick tries to keep it from Art, but he never can. Art hears him fucking his fist in the shower after you’ve all been at the pool. Listens to the wet sounds of Patrick’s lubed up hand gliding along his dick until he gets frustrated and says, “Art, get over here.” Art takes over with his fist, with his mouth. Almost lets Patrick cum before he pulls away. “Admit you want her first.”

Patrick just covers his face with his arm, groans out a pained, “Art—“ Because he’s killing him. He’s actually fucking killing him. When did the Art he met at the tennis academy, the one who sang in the choir for his grandma’s church and wouldn’t even swear until Patrick goaded him to, become this mean. “She’s my sister.”

Art grins. “Your step sister, who you want to fuck.” Patrick doesn’t get to cum until he admits it. He’s rewarded by Art’s hot, perfect mouth and the rare opportunity to cum down his throat. For being a good sport.

He thinks that’s it, you both accepted it, you’ll both just get it over with and fuck, and hopefully still include him since he was kind enough to encourage it. But you don’t. There’s still sweet longing glances and lingering touches. He walks in on you and Patrick giggling in your room, tossing sour patch kids back and forth and seeing who can catch the most in your mouths. Sits on the bed when you curl up and rest your head in Patrick’s lap, while he pets your hair and lets his fingers trace along your face like a boyfriend would.

You’re so lonely at Stanford. Patrick’s gone to god knows where, playing in low level tournaments, losing and sulking without you to comfort him. He calls you almost every night, and you ask him about if he’s seeing anyone. He just kind of goes quiet and says, “C’mon.” You know how he feels, he knows you feel the same way, and that you’re both horribly, painfully stuck.

You show up to Art’s dorm teary eyed and needing comfort. He misses Patrick too, you know he does. He’s the only one who understands. It’s two in the morning and Art’s all disheveled from sleep as he opens the door. His eyes widen— you’re just wearing one of Pat’s shirts, and jesus, you can’t just walk around a college campus like that. He ushers you in, closes the door behind him.

“I miss Pat,” is all you say, and suddenly your lips are on his and you’re tripping over clothes and bags in the dark room as he guides you onto his bed. He’s a little slow, still waking up, but his hands are warm and feel a little rough like Patrick’s do.

His phone vibrates on the bedside table, but he silences it with the press of a button. “Sorry,” he mumbles, leans forward and kisses you slow and hungry. His tongue moves against yours as he slides a hand into your panties, rubs at your swollen clit so you moan into his mouth.

“You’re so wet,” he groans. You nod, grind down against his fingers. “For me or for Patrick?”

You whine, can’t even look at him. “Both.” It’s shameful to admit it, that you’d been wet the entire time that you and Patrick had been catching up on the phone, that you’d thought about slipping your hands into your panties and touching yourself to his voice. But that was… you couldn’t do that. But Art could help.

He slips your panties down your thighs, eases one finger inside your pussy, then another. He thrusts them slow and deep, brings pretty mewls from your lips. “What do you need, hm?”

“Patrick,” you whine.

He nods, noses along the side of your jaw, and sucks on your throat. “I know, baby. Pat’s not here. You want me to make you feel better? You can pretend I’m him.”

So you do. You beg for it, for Art to fuck you. He knows you’re not just thinking about him, that you’re across an ocean with Patrick just as much as you’re in his bed. So sweet beneath him, crying out for him, for Patrick in equal measure. Moaning about how you want your stepbrother’s cock, about how much you miss Patrick, begging for Art to fuck you harder.

At a hostel in Germany, Patrick just has to listen to it.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Dir en grey interview translation notes around The Devil In Me

Just some of the more interesting bits from the single's booklet and from PHY vol. 25.

Kyo

He was the one who came up with the title, and the title was determined before they even attached a song to it. The band basically decided to set a date for a new single ahead of time, not too long after 19990120's release, then they had just one song selection meeting (usually, they have three) to pick a song to work with toward becoming "The Devil In Me". After scheduling a release date, they had to pick a title before even knowing what song would be part of that release for production/logistical reasons.

Kyo wrote the lyrics of The Devil In Me based on his sense of dissociation from world events, how his own issues are not aligned with what the world cares about. He finds that people's lives are sometimes pre-determined the moment they are born. It's really a reflection on: "Why am I the way I am?"

The chorus has so many layers because Kyo wanted to illustrate that inner evil, or wickedness.

While re-recording Yokan, Kyo realized that he used to sing in short bouts, taking a breath more regularly, whereas he's evolved to sing as much as he can in a single, long breath now.

The small changes made to the lyrics of Cage just serve to help Kyo feel more immersed in that old poem, but if he'd wanted to change the lyrics to represent his current mindset, clearly he would have composed a completely new, different song.

Kyo commented in PHY vol. 25 that if the producers wanted a band that sells a lot, they would have had to replace him with someone who is taller, has a nice face and that composes songs that appeal to a wider audience. But around their debut, Kyo had to bend to some of the producers' demands because he had to rely on their knowledge of what would make the band successful. He wanted to make a very dark band, but he had to accept to make songs like Yokan.

"It wouldn't be appropriate to sing about corpses and internal organs to a melodious song such as Yokan (lol)."

Kyo feels like Dir en grey is the toughest band for him to be a part of, because the band's shows are especially mentally difficult.

Kaoru

The music of The Devil In Me was Kaoru's idea.

Kaoru agrees that the song kind of ends in a way that the band could have, in the past, followed up on with a second section of the song, but they felt like ending it in a more simple way now, which still represents the band's current state.

Die

The band had a discussion in a dressing room during Tour23 Phalaris Final –The scent of a peaceful death- and that's where they came to an understanding of where they wanted to take the band next. Kyo brought them ideas on what he felt that the next single song should sound like, but in the end, at the selection meeting, the majority of the band chose a completely different song than the other of the 5 that Kyo preferred. He's fine with letting the majority win.

Die started working out in 2018 to make sure to stay in shape for stage performances, and I think that he mentioned that it's important for him to appear young and healthy so that the fans who follow the band also don't feel old.

For Die, he was in part less active on stage during the Dum Spiro Spero era because the songs were dark and complex, so he had to focus more. Because of that, he couldn't enjoy the actual shows as much.

Toshiya

Toshiya mentioned that doing commemorative tours and shows is really just fan service.

Toshiya described Dir en grey as a group of five dictators. Their enemies and friends/allies are all inside that group, and the past 25(+) years have been a continuation of challenges to bring the band forward despite this type of chemical reaction between five egos.

Apparently the band never has casual "weird" conversations where they chat about their interests of the moment, but they quietly observe the others without interacting, like by observing what kind of clothes they wear or are into.

Shinya

Contrary to the band's habit, the vocals did not even exist yet when Shinya had to compose and record his drumming for The Devil In Me. When the vocals were eventually recorded, they kind of matched what Shinya had expected.

However, overall, a couple of members of the band feel like The Devil In Me might be a song that people react to with: "I don't get it", rather that just liking or disliking it.

Shinya dissing The Marrow of a Bone again hahah.

Shinya described The Devil In Me as mysterious, inexplicable.

He started taking some lessons from Buck-Tick's "Anii" (Toll Yagami) to learn a new drumming method. In the past, at the very beginning of his career, Shinya used to wear lead weights at his ankles to hit the pedal heavier and develop muscles, but Yoshiki and other seniors told him how to actually play and he quickly got rid of the weight belts.

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-one

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: This story takes place during the era between Finding God Before God Finds Me and The Death of Peace of Mind. Tags will be open, send in an ask or comment on the chapter. I'll try to catch every one!

Swearing from below caught my attention as I reluctantly dragged myself out of my bunk to the noise. It was angry and loud followed by a kick then some more swearing. I ran a hand through my hair while I exited the tour bus and raised a brow to my fellow bandmate and boyfriend, Trey. 

"What's your problem?" 

He shot me a look, one that he thought would scare me, but I nearly chuckled at the sight of it. 

"You forgot to pack my laptop. I can't find it on the bus or down here." 

Now my eyes sliced into him. "I didn't pack shit of yours, Trey. I told you I was already stressing out about this tour, the last thing I needed was to take care of you." 

He scoffed before slamming the door to the under compartment of the bus shut. "Why the fuck are you stressing out for? It's not like it's our first tour." 

As he walked past me, I smelled the lingering scent of vodka and nearly strangled him. Leave it to Trey to drink before eleven a.m. Tonight was the first night of our month-long tour across the United States and here he was, drunk before soundcheck. And he dares to ask me why I'm so stressed out. 

"Maybe I'm stressed out because this is our first sold-out tour and you're already drunk," I seethed while following him down the street. 

Trey pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Calm down, Y/N. It's not like I can't perform drunk." 

The long locks of his curly hair fell into his face and he ran a hand through it to push it away from his eyes. The tattoo on his palm caught my attention like it always did. 

Rose. 

No, not a tattoo of the flower but a name; his ex-fiance. 

I absolutely hated that tattoo and after two years of dating, I begged him to get it covered up but he refused. Which should have been the first sign to leave him but I was desperate for some kind of relationship with him so I overlooked it. 

Like everything else about Trey. 

Plus, our band Hollow Souls was his and if I broke up with him, Trey would turn the rest of the guys against me. I couldn't afford for that to happen. When Trey came to me, as a friend, four years ago with the idea of starting a band, I thought he was crazy. Especially when he wanted me to sing for the band, he was the screamer and guitar player, so why would they need me to sing?

"Your voice is amazing, Y/N. Think how cool our band would be with my screams and your soft singing. There's nothing like it." 

Now four years later, Hollow Souls were one of the most popular bands in the metal genre and this was our second tour in the last year. We might have been exhausted but the prospect of touring with another band that was just rising to fame made us all giddy with excitement so of course we agreed to another tour. 

Well, not all of us were excited to be touring with this band. Trey made his distaste for them pretty damn clear; hence why he was drinking already. 

"Why don't you go sleep off your hangover, I'm sure you still have and I'll come find you when our soundcheck starts," I suggested. 

Trey tossed down the butt of his cigarette and walked away, without stomping it out. Rolling my eyes, I crushed it beneath my boot then slowly followed him back to the parking lot of the venue where our bus was parked. 

"Fuck sleep. I want to be wide awake when those assholes show up." 

I shook my head at Trey. "Why do you hate them so much? We haven't even met them." 

He whipped his head around. "You haven't but I have. Their vocalist is a young entitled prick who thinks just because they had one hit off their last album that they deserve to have their name bigger on OUR tour poster?" 

Oh, here we fucking go. Again. 

I pushed past him to make my way to the bus. "You're so fucking stupid, Trey. You're believing bullshit you read online. When have they ever come out and said that themselves?" 

"Don't walk away from me," Trey hissed while grabbing my hand; a little too hard.

I ignored the pain by keeping my gaze hard on his face. "Trey, let me go. Now." 

Movement sounded behind him and I peered over his shoulder to see Chase, our drummer, poke his head out from the bus. 

"Everything alright?" He gave us a curious look. 

"Yep," I ripped my arm from Trey. 

Chase patted my shoulder as I climbed up the stairs of our tour bus and didn't bother to look toward Malcolm, our bass player, as I retreated into my bunk. Our soundcheck was in a few hours and if I wanted to make sure our first show went off without a hitch, I needed to calm myself. 

Three hours later, I was dressed in one of our merch hoodies and a pair of black biker shorts ready to get soundcheck over with. Trey didn't bother coming back to the bus and after waiting for him, Malcom suggested we should head into the venue without him. The wind blew through my hair as I stepped off the bus and gave a worried glance to Chase. 

"Did you find him?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "I texted him but no response. You know him, Y/N. He's probably at a bar right now but he'll be here in time for the show."

Reluctantly, I nodded and followed Chase into the backdoor of the venue when a large bus pulled up right next to ours. 

"About time," Malcom chuckled as he appeared almost out of thin air right next to me. 

His red hair was pulled back tight into a bun, his emerald eyes shining with the rays of the sun. Chase, whose blonde hair was buzzed short and blue eyes were dark as the night ocean, waved to the mystery bus as the door opened. 

"The next time I take your directions, Malcolm I'm having you pay to fill up the bus' gas tank," a man with long hair and a thick accent said as he took the final step from the bus. 

Malcom rolled his eyes before doing the typical man/bro hug. "Fuck you, Jolly. My directions were perfect. It's the only venue in all of Texas that has a blue roof." 

I looked over to my shoulder so I could look at the venue but smacked Malcolm in the chest. "You dumbass. The roof isn't blue; it's red!" 

He gave a sheepish smile while shrugging. "Oh shit. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

"No, you're not," Chase noted. 

The man, Jolly, chuckled while extending his hand to me after he hugged Chase. Clearly, they already knew each other. 

"I'm Jolly, guitar player of Bad Omens." 

With a bright smile, I shook his hand. "Y/N, clean vocalist for Hollow Souls." 

"Oh trust me, I know who you are. We listen to you guys pretty often; huge fans. Noah talks about your vocal range all the time," Jolly admitted while stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

A red hue crept over my face at the simple compliment. It wasn't something I heard often because everyone always talked about Trey's screams and how long he could hold a note or how deep his growls could go. 

"That means a lot to me, really. Few people compliment me, it's usually something they save for Trey," I admitted while tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Well, it's true," a different man slinked up beside Jolly with a goofy, bright smile. "I'm Nick but you can call me Folio." 

"Oh, let me guess." I tapped my chin. "Drummer?" 

Folio chuckled while nodding. "What gave it away?" 

I pointed to his hoodie pocket. "The drumsticks." 

Another guy with hair down to his shoulders emerged from the bus and nodded towards the group of us. "Blue roof my ass." 

Malcolm rolled his eyes and flipped this guy the middle finger. "Sorry, Nick. I forgot I'm colorblind." 

Chase pinched his eyes shut. "No. You're not." 

"Wait," I pointed between the two men. "You're both Nick?" 

They nodded and Folio spoke next. "Which is why you can call me Folio." 

Nick then extended his hand towards me. "Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows." 

I don't know why but that small tidbit of information made my heart stutter. I had no idea who this Noah was but apparently; he thought pretty highly of me. 

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," I laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of my feet. 

Then as if the air around me shifted, taking all the oxygen from my lungs, I watched as the final member of Bad Omens exited the bus. A black beanie covered most of his long hair and the brown jacket he wore did absolute wonders for his skin. The black jeans hugged every inch of his thighs as he walked towards us; no, almost stalked towards us in a way that practically screamed confidence. His plump lips parted to speak and my ears were hit with the most angelic voice I ever heard. 

"Malcolm, your directions-." 

My bandmate groaned while rolling his eyes. "Yes, I already fucking know." 

As the guys chatted amongst themselves for a moment, my eyes were glued to the tall man in front of me. Easily he had to be six foot three because being only a few feet away from me, he towered over me. Tattoos were peaking out from the collar of his shirt and when he extended his hand towards me, I trailed over every single tattoo on his fingers. 

Long fingers that could make the devil weep in sin. 

"Hey, I'm Noah." 

When I realized he was talking to me, I blinked a few times and stammered out my name. 

"Y-Y/N. Nice to meet you," I shook his large hand, and the immediate warmth his gentle touch brought made me weak in the knees. 

"Trust me, I know who you are," Noah smiled. 

Suddenly gaining more confidence from his smile alone, I playfully raised a brow at him. "Yeah, your bandmates kind of told me you're a huge fan." 

Oh fuck, even his laugh sounded breathtaking. 

"Yes, I'll be the first one to admit that. When the record label told us who we're touring with, I may have fanboyed." 

Chase hummed in response before ruffling my hair. "Rightfully so. Y/N is what makes Hollow Souls." 

I pushed his arm away. "Whatever. All I do is sing." 

All of this attention towards me wasn't why I was so defensive. It was because if Trey heard me getting all the praise, he would blow a fucking gasket. He always thought he was the center of Hollow Souls since he started the band so whenever someone else besides him got even a hint of praise, he would throw a fit. 

Noah snorted. "You're too hard on yourself, Y/N. The range your voice gets is insane." 

The blush never left my face, only intensified, so I stared down at the toes of my shoes because I wasn't sure how to take yet another compliment. 

"Speaking of which," Chase sighed. "We should probably find out where Trey went." 

"I'm honored you're all worried about me." 

Internally, I cringed when an arm slung around my shoulder and a wet kiss was plastered to my cheek. I was avoiding the gazes of everyone and I nearly missed the look of shock that crossed over Noah's face as Trey left another kiss on my cheek after I wiped away the first one. 

"You stink," I muttered under my breath. 

"Sorry, sugar. I had a few drinks at the bar down the road," Trey admitted while brushing his hair away from his face. 

The sides were shaved, but the rest lay on top of his head in a curly mess. His dark eyes held no light behind them, it dying so long ago, and the array of tattoos that littered his arms were as dull as his soul. The alcohol and stardom over the years changed Trey and not for the better. Before we started dating, Trey was the most vibrant soul I'd ever met but once we got together and Hollow Souls took off, everything changed. He became the asshole that now stood next to me. 

Many would ask why I was still with Trey but he was familiar and I didn't want to go through the fear of starting over. Also, I liked my position in the band and didn't want to mess that up. 

Trey nodded to Chase and Malcom, completely ignoring the guys of Bad Omens. 

"How'd soundcheck go?" 

Chase scoffed. "We haven't even started. We were waiting for you." 

"Oh, you guys don't need me. Since Y/N here is the heart and soul of our band," Trey pushed himself off of me but then smacked my ass. "Let's get moving, babe. We're wasting time out here." 

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling very embarrassed with the way Trey was treating me, something Noah immediately picked up on. 

"Nice to see you again, Trey," he said. 

"Noah," Trey gave him a curt nod then linked his fingers in mine to drag me away from them. 

NOAH

Holy shit. She's real and absolutely beautiful. 

The pictures on her Instagram paled in comparison to the real thing standing in front of me. The way her hair blew across the softness of her face or how when the afternoon sun casts over her eyes at just the right angle, they shined with so much light it made my heart flutter. And when her cheeks flushed red as I complimented her voice or the way her eyes cast downward, it made all the blood in my body rush straight to my dick and I suddenly cursed myself for wearing such tight jeans. 

Then that prick Trey came along and treated her like she was nothing as he dragged her away. I nearly stepped between them but with the stern look that Jolly gave me, I knew it was best not to get involved. 

"This is going to be a long few weeks," Nick said as we all watched the members of Hollow Souls walk into the venue. 

"I'd be happy if Trey wasn't a part of it," I said truthfully. 

Folio hummed in agreement. "He's always had a problem with us even before you flirted with his girlfriend." 

"I didn't know they were dating," I retorted back. "And I wasn't flirting with her." 

"Right," Jolly nodded. "Because the looks you two were giving each other weren't all that heart-eye shit they talk about in romance novels." 

Thankfully, our crew's bus pulled up right on time so I didn't have to explain myself and for the next while, we helped everyone take our equipment from the bus to the venue where Hollow Souls was still doing soundcheck. Every so often, Y/N's ethereal voice would pierce into my soul causing me to stand still in place, watching her on that stage. 

As much as I disliked the guy, with his deep guttural screams and her siren-like voice, they were perfectly made for this. 

"You're staring," Nick whispered as he walked behind me to set down one of the large crates. 

"Fuck off," I grumbled before adjusting the beanie on my head and reluctantly walked away from the stage.

[zivazivc]

What kind of nu metal music fits Les's band?

First of all I gotta clarify that I sent this ask myself because I accidentally lost the original through constant editing and drafting. I realize I could just make a regular text post but I'm quirky like that, and a question is a nice little attention grabber for those who are interested.

Anyway...

It's hard to point at one song and say this is their sound, because A: I'm picky, B: the band's style changes over time, and C: I don't know what I'm doing lmao

This answer is very long uhh I don't seem to be able to form short responses, mi scusi 😅

Back at home the brothers' music and then also the first year on the road with Flea the band sounds like the albums Music and especially Grassroots by 311. (Grassroots is such a banger of an album, I listen to it all the time, really recommend.)

Hed's the main influence on the band's sound because he's the main vocalist, songwriter and overall the most invested in the band succeeding (Les's main concern is making ends meet, and Flea is just enjoying the ride lol). At the start Hed and Les have had basically no contact with Rock Trolls so even though they're both more metal/punk than regular rock, their "rock side" is softer at this point. Hed also grew up with hip hop because of his peers so there's a lot of rapping in his lyrics. And he also incorporates reggae into his style a lot because of his favorite uncle, Kymani (one of the guys who live with Ish) who is a Reggae Troll. Hed is pretty much a sponge when it comes to music, much like Floyd. The closest I can come to describing his genre is a fusion of Rap Metal and Reggae Rock which are both already fusion genres jskksdjsk

(The band 311 has two singers and oddly they both sound like Hed and Les to me. SA Martinez (the higher of the two voices) sounds 100%, exactly like how I've imagined Hed's voice in my head. For Les I have a different voice claim because Les's personal style of music is much different from the band, but Nick Hexum (the lead vocalist here) is still in the second place when it comes to voice alone. Imagine my enthusiastic surprise finding voices for both brothers in the same band 😄)

examples from the two albums:

...

While driving around and performing small gigs they come in contact with the alternative and nu metal scene and meet a lot of Rock Trolls (mostly various Metal Trolls) and other mixed trolls, and in the following couple of years their sound gradually becomes heavier (Hed rediscovers screamo lol) and they go from rock to metal.

A year into their "touring" is also around the time Hed meets and starts dating Liv and gets her to join the band. Liv's genre has the heaviest sound of all of them (Industrial/EBM), which influences Hed and the band too. And with Liv on the drums, Hed takes over DJ-ing and is also able to put more focus on the vocals, which also makes Les step down and only sing backing vocals with the rest of the band if needed.

The band in this era sounds like the album Revolution by Insolence and to some degree Introduction to Mayhem by Primer 55.

examples from the albums:

...

Two years into the bands existence is when Floyd runs into them. At first he's more just standing there, observing their practices and performances warily, because he's had bad experiences with Rock Trolls in his one year alone and metal music still kinda freaks him out at this point. But he soon starts joining in in melodic parts and then it progresses into him singing longer and longer segments because he has the strongest vocals of everyone. And once he saves enough of his earnings for a guitar he starts playing the rhythm guitar too. (The guitar he took with him when he left the Troll Tree got stolen before he met the band.)

I guess I should clarify: Flea is the lead guitarist, Les is the bassist, and Liv and Hed switch on the drums and DJ-ing depending on the track. At one point they also get a keyboard.

It's also not that long before Hed and Floyd start actively writing songs together, sharing each others notes, and they start to split the singing parts more evenly. Hed even teaches Floyd screamo techniques, because he thinks Floyd has a great voice for them (He is correct, Floyd has a mean scream 😁).

During this time the band still pretty much sounds like Revolution by Insolence but with more melodic singing parts from Floyd (and screaming/shouting lmao). I think Verge of Umbra is another good band to compare, it sounds more clean and Floydy but still Hedy. (Man, I should write scientific research papers skjdkjf)

↑↑↑ song with the lyrics from the drawing at the top

From here on out I'm a bit unsure how the band's sound develops, but I'm pretty sure Floyd would unintentionally infect them with a mild case of radio friendliness (Pop trolls can't help their in your face nature lmao 😞). So for now I'm stopping here...

This took me days of searching and writing so I would appreciate to hear any thoughts you have if you've come this far and given some of the songs a listen. :)