#ruined the night because it was supposed to be her big moment and now it's forever tainted

[woso-dreamzzz]

Gone VI

Pernille Harder x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe:

Summary: Your first night alone in London

You don't go with your mothers back to the airport.

Their flight is late in the evening and they don't want to interrupt your sleep schedule.

So, after dinner, they say their goodbyes and leave.

Your apartment, which was once welcoming and warm, goes cold in an instant, like Magda and Pernille leaving has sucked all the warmth and sun out with them.

You just sit on your sofa in silence, unsure of what to do with yourself now.

You try to watch a bit of tv but it's all in English and makes you miss the familiar Swedish back home. You try to play a few games on your phone but you've been stuck on this one level for a few weeks now and get frustrated easily, throwing your phone down on the cushions next to you.

You think about reorganising everything but it's only recently been unpacked and you don't want to ruin all of Momma and Morsa's hard work.

You sigh, trying to relax back against the sofa but you just can't get comfortable, shifting around anxiously whenever you feel a hint of comfort. You back is ramrod straight and you keep glancing around like you expect someone to be in the room with you.

You get up, sighing. You don't know why you're suddenly so restless but you pace the length of the room before dipping into the kitchen. You've already eaten dinner and you're not actually that hungry but you still poke around in your now full stocked cupboards and fridge for something even mildly interesting.

In the end, you end up right back on the sofa, knee bouncing.

You reach for your phone again, just as in incoming call comes in.

"Hi, Momma."

Pernille's face fills the screen, happy and smiling. You can hear the hustle and bustle of the airport around her but you don't really care either way, even if you have to lean closer to the phone to fully hear what she's saying.

"We just got through security and everything," She says," Magda's around here somewhere trying to get some food. I told her that it's all overpriced but, you know her, she'll do what she thinks is best."

It's completely normal, the words she's saying, the almost teasing bite to her voice but it still makes your throat close up a little.

It makes you want to cry.

It makes you want to sob down the phone and beg her to come back. it makes you want to bow out of your contract with Arsenal and go home and quit football all together so you can stay with Momma and Morsa forever and never leave their sides.

But you don't do that because, deep down, you know you don't want to quit football and you know you want to play for Arsenal.

So, you force yourself to just look at Pernille's face, to memorise every line and angle and the shape of her features because you know that it'll be a while until you see her in person again.

"Well," You say, forcing your voice to remain unchanged, to not give away just how close you are to bursting into tears," You know Morsa. She'll try and swindle a discount somehow."

Pernille laughs, a fond eye roll appearing on her face that you memorise too. "I keep telling her if we just go to the lounge then we get complimentary food but she says that stuff is just fancy for no reason." She shakes her head. "Honestly, sometimes I think she likes spending money for the sake of spending money."

"She's got you to keep her in line though," You say and Pernille smiles.

"I suppose so." There's silence for a moment and then," Well, I just called to let you know that we're all checked in. Boarding won't be for another few hours and you should be in bed by that point."

"Are you giving me a bedtime?" You tease. You have to force yourself to tease because the thought of your mothers getting on that plane and leaving you in England by yourself is enough to rip your heart to shreds.

"Well," Pernille says," If that's what you think then I can't stop you."

You smile at her. "That's exactly what you're doing."

She smiles back. "I love you and we'll come and visit soon, okay?"

"I love you too, Momma."

You go through the motions of getting ready for bed. You shower. You change. You pull back the covers and slip in. You put your phone on charge.

Then...

You just kind of lay there, unmoving as you stare up at your dark ceiling. There's no other sounds in your apartment.

At home, there was always some kind of sound. Sometimes Momma clearing stuff away or Morsa talking on the phone. There was always something but now there's nothing.

You've never felt so alone in your life.

Some sort of foreign wounded sound spills out from your throat as the tears finally roll down your cheeks.

You don't think you can do this.

[turvi]

Chicks Dig Bad Boys

Rodrick Heffley x Reader

According to Y/n, Rodrick was just another emo boy, a loser, a typical teenage dirtbag. At least, this is what she heard from Heather Hills. Y/n was shocked Heather even chose to talk to her. Not just because Heather is the 'it girl' of Westmore High School.

Y/n had cracked the code to deal with high school, and that was to avoid joining any kind of group and not get noticed by anyone. Even if you somehow develop a crush on someone, keep it a secret. So she was surprised when Heather sat beside her and decided to talk to her. Y/n merely shrugged her shoulder and nodded at appropriate times as she spoke, tuning out the blonde girl.

Of course, you were aware of the crush the boy was harbouring for Heather especially when he made a show of ruining Heather's birthday. Y/n saw it all happen and thought how Rodrick actually had a nice voice and had potential. So when Rodrick happened to sit beside her in the English class she off-handedly complimented his voice.

Y/n had expected him to give her a smug smile or make an inappropriate joke. What she didn't expect was to find a very flushed Rodrick who was trying to find the correct words to say to her. She couldn't believe her eyes. She never saw Rodrick become so flustered.

"Uh..th..thank you...it...it means a lot." Rodrick wanted to slap himself for speaking like forgot how to speak. Yeah sure he got a few claps and hollers when his band played but no one complimented his voice.

"Was that the first time you sang?" now she was intrigued. Rodrick looked up and saw a genuine smile on her face. He took a breath of relief. He had thought she was making fun of him.

"Uh..yeah. I only sing when we perform in my garage. I wanted to do something special for Heather. But clearly, it went wrong." he said as he ran his hand through his hair. Y/n almost extended her hand to fix his unruly hair but dropped her hand when she saw him smile. She felt her heart flutter

Shit

Now she had something to say to Rodrick, but she forgot when she saw him smile like that. Boys like him were not supposed to smile like that. He was not supposed to have such a soft smile. Her trance broke when she saw him smirking.

"I saw you last night...not in a creepy way. I mean... obviously, during all that chaos at Heather's birthday, I saw you." there was that damned smile again. "I didn't know you were friends with her." His tone had a genuine wonder.

Y/n chuckled. "I helped her a few times with assignments..not really a friend, but we know each other, plus free food. Who can say no to that?"

Y/n felt her cheeks warming up under his gaze and tried to hide it under the curtain of her hair when she suddenly felt his fingers against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At that moment, she realised Rodrick actually saw her. She realised Rodrick was more than a teenage dirtbag that the world told her to stay away from.

She cleared her throat "I have heard your band play...when I come to tutor Greg."

Rodrick's hand grew sweaty. He knew how loud his band practice was, mainly to annoy Greg and his best friend Rowley. But he can't help but felt guilty as he realised how much of a nuisance it would have been for her.

"I am so sorry if our practice disturbed you guys"

"Oh no it's ok..I actually don't mind. I like that kind of music. Although it would be nice if the volume is a bit low."

"yeah...yeah absolutely...no big deal we can even practice a bit later."

Rodrick looked ahead trying his best to control a giddy smile. He did not expect his morning to be this good.

"Great...so I will see you in the evening..if you don't mind"

"yeah yeah totally" Rodrick quickly responded with a big smile. He was looking forward to meeting her this evening...after he locked Greg in the basement again.

A/N: Ladies and Gentlemen the boy who got me into bad boys. Rodrick Heffley. I couldn't stop myself from writing for him. I feel like a teen again. REBLOG AND COMMENT if you like this.

[cherry-jamm]

Just not him

・❥・ Your situationship doesn’t like that you were seen with another man

・❥・word count: 1.2k

・❥・warnings: Homelander and The Deep (they’re their own warnings), fade to black smut, Homie is a little toxic, supe!reader

・❥・I don't write smut because I'm not good at it, but I'm not good at it because I don't write it, a viscous cycle.

Also sorry if this doesn't make much sense I was in and out of consciousness while writing 😝

"No. No way am I doing that."

"(Y/n), your sexuality is part of your brand. May I remind you your approval rates are going down by the minute." Madelyn sighs.

"Yeah, I get that, but you expect me to go out there and flirt with The Deep? I'd be making a fool of myself." Your cheeks are hot as you try to defend yourself.

"Ah, ah, you'd be making a spectacle, and that's exactly what we need right now. Drama, scandal, rumors."

"And it has to be him?" You deadpanned. "It can't be anyone else? What about Homelander?" You felt yourself becoming desperate.

“Homelander? And you?” A smile breaks out on her face, but she tries to hide it. “I don’t mean any offense, but you two aren’t an ideal pair up.” She talks to you like you’re a child. You fight the urge to tell her that you and Homelander are actually a very good pair. “Anyways, recently you and The Deep have been trending, as a couple.” You scoff.

Recently on a podcast with some man you’re sure is very popular in a different crowd, The Deep confessed that he found you to be the most attractive member of The Seven. Ever since then a burst of videos were posted of cute moments between the two of you, which turned into edits, which turned into fan art, which turned into fanfiction. You fought the urge to gag, who even makes that stuff? From a marketing perspective, it made for great business, a romance angle brought new eyes to the scene. To you, it was demeaning.

“Fine. But I’m not going to take this any further than a few flirtatious remarks at tomorrow’s gala.” You remind yourself it’s not good to anger someone like Madelyn, she’s scarier than she lets on. Madelyn nods and you walk out of her office, much more embarrassed than you were when you entered. As you stormed down the hallway to the safety of your own home, none other than The Deep greeted you.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive.

“Hey! How are you doing today, cutie?” He starts. He practically salivates as he walks beside you. You feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“I’m not in the mood right now.”

“C’mon, why don’t you let me take you out for a drink or two? We’re supposed to be all over each other tom-“

“Not in the mood!” You cut him off. Your walking increases to practically sprinting until you reach your home. You slam the door shut behind you. You shrugged off your clothes and crawled into bed. No way in hell were you getting out of bed until the last possible minute.

You stood, still as a statue. You wore a deep purple outfit. The silks enveloped your body in a sexy, yet elegant way. You had never felt more bored in your life. The Deep had his hand positioned on your lower back, where it had been all night. You had already talked to everyone important, you made sure the photographers got enough shots of you coquettishly whispering in The Deep’s ear, or leaning on him while being in conversation. You had taken notice to the fact that Homelander had yet to arrive. The gala would be ending soon, and without an appearance from the leader of The Seven himself. His absence further ruined your mood.

You and Homelander were in a bit of a situationship. There was no official label for your relationship. He’d come to your house just to sleep with you one day, then act like you two were strangers the next. You had learned to accept that nothing serious would come from the relationship. But there was still a part of you that wished he had come tonight.

“(Y/n), big smiles.” The Deep reminded. “Why do you look so fucking depressed?” His voice was low enough that it would look like casual banter to any outsider. His hold on the small of your back grew tight.

“Back off and mind your own business.” You said through gritted teeth. You forced a coy smile and blush onto your face as if he had just said something really flustering to you.

“Hey you two!” You felt your brows furrow. Sometime between two minutes ago, when you last scanned the room, and now Homelander had entered, and without you noticing. Your fake smile melted into a real one.

“Homelander.” You greeted. The Deep pulled you in impossibly closer. He didn’t say anything, just nodded. You had a feeling he was scared of Homelander.

“Do you mind if I borrow them?” Homelander asked The Deep. All of you knew it wasn’t a question, just a thinly veiled demand. “You seem to have them chained down.” He laughed, referring to the vice grip currently on your back. After a second the hold was gone, The Deep had already walked off to get himself another drink.

It was just you and Homelander now. He moved close to you to whisper in your ear.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked with a plastic smile. You felt your stomach drop.

“My job.” You shot back with an equally fake smile. You watched as his cheeks turned red with anger.

“No.” He grabbed your wrist. “We’re leaving.” You planted your feet in the ground.

“Excuse you?”

“I said, we’re leaving.” He hissed.

“They’ll have my head if I’m seen leaving with you.”

“They can fucking suck it up. I’m The Homelander. I get who I want, when I want. We’re leaving.” He dragged you by the wrist to pull you out the back doors. You were acutely aware that all the photographers turned away their cameras after seeing the expression on Homelander’s face.

The cold night air curled around your exposed skin, but you had no time to even breathe it in before your head hit the wall behind you and Homelander’s lips were on yours. His hands gripped your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You push him away, sucking in deep breaths.

“What’s gotten into you? Why are you acting like this?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t say you don’t enjoy this possessiveness, but he’s never made such a scene for you before, especially in public. He doesn’t answer before pulling you back into another hungry kiss.

He pulls away, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re mine. All fucking mine. No one else can have you, especially not that fucker Deep.” He pants. His grip tightened in a way you’re sure would bruise if it wasn’t for your invulnerable skin. “Fucking say it. Say that you’re mine.” A tone of pathetic desperation creeps into his voice. You smile and curl your fingers in his hair.

You wish Madelyn could see you now. Not a good pair, as if.

“I’m yours, Homelander.” You assure him. He whines against your collarbone. You’re sure tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending none of this happened, but for now you revel in his attention. “Why don’t you show them that I belong to you?”

It’s so petty, just a cheap way to stick it in Madelyn’s face. Homelander grins as he tries to suck a hickey on your neck. Both of your smiles quickly faded at the realization that there’s no way to bruise invincible skin. “Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Homelander looked up at you with his big blue eyes. You run your fingers through his hair.

“I’m sure you could show them in a different way.” You smirked.

[mydearesthrry]

harry’s house home - h.s.

a/n: this is the cheesiest thing ive ever written okay. like its really sweet and almost cringey oopssss sorry. i hope you enjoy anyway !!! (p.s. originally was supposed to be titled harrys mojo dojo casa house but thats for another time)

🎀 warnings/cw: angst, swearing?? i actually dk, fluff, mention of flying anxiety, this is also completely unedited

🐇 pairing: famous!bf!harry styles x fem!reader

💐 wc: 2.1k

summary: it's not home without harry, you've come to realize.

This almost felt like a routine now. 

Lying awake in her king sized bed, she was staring up at projected stars on the ceiling, gnawing on her bottom lip as she let her mind drift away in thought. 

She misses him. Again. 

Due to Harry being on the second Europe/UK leg of tour, she had decided to stay at home for a little until the final show, and it had been a good month since she last saw Harry. She had begun to run on Harry’s time, adjusting her sleep to wherever in the world he was so that she could talk to him. Their time zone differences weren’t gracious enough sadly, and she was wide awake at 3:40 in the morning. 

Harry was busy so she couldn’t call or text him, and she wanted to let everything go as smoothly as they could so he could finally come home. Initially, she let herself be selfish and a bit greedy and took up almost 10 minutes of his time, texting back and forth and allowing her brain to read his responses in his voice. 

Contrary to popular belief, it was easy for y/n and Harry to have a relationship that could withstand whatever problems they may have faced because they communicated, but communication can only get you so far. 

She missed him. 

All-consumingly, selfishly, and overwhelmingly missed him. 

The amount of rocky moments that the couple had endured on the nearly 3 year long running tour had been more than the past 4 years of their relationship combined. Whether it be a schedule conflict, missed dates, late nights when she didn’t even know if he’d be home, nothing could compare to the feeling that she had swirling around in her chest right now. 

They’d gotten into a fight a few days ago and since then she had been hesitant to text and call him in fear that she would ruin his day, or even worse, his shows. She knew well that he wouldn’t let it show to his millions of fans, but she could read him like an open book and the guilt that would swell in her body would just make her shut down. But it was getting hard to be alone. It was hard being in such a big house that was filled to the brim with reminders of him, which in turn would remind her that she was alone and that he was on the other side of the world.

She allowed her emotions to take the reins, and as she slowly started to feel everything, she could feel a harsh tug in her chest. She put a hand to her heart, letting out a deep exhale as she felt the familiar sting of tears tingle her nose, sinuses becoming stuffy immediately. She scrunched up her nose, allowing the tears to fill her eyes as she let out her first breathy sob. It wasn’t uncommon for her now to cry over missing Harry. In fact, she’s never even told him the extent of how much she missed him, and just tried to deal with it on her own. But this time, she didn’t feel like she was strong enough to just let it pass. 

Picking up her phone, she quickly pulled up her favorites list in her phone, sobs still wracking her body as she tapped on Harry’s contact. She sniffled and tried her best to calm herself down as she heard the ringing coming from the phone signifying that he was receiving the call. 

“Hey, ‘M in a meeting. Everything ok?” And just like that, the entire dam broke open, and she let her emotions flood the room she was sitting in. 

“Harry,” she let out a pitiful whine, “I’m sorry I’m calling you like this, I- I knew you were in a meeting, and I’m sorry. And I know we’re in a fight and y’probably don’t want to talk to me, but I just… I need to hear your voice right now.” 

“Oh— um, yeah, hold on, baby. It’s okay, ‘m glad you called me. Give me two seconds, okay? ‘M gonna mute m’self t’tell Jeff I need to take 20, but I’ll be all yours in a sec.” He promises, voice immediately drenched in urgency. 

“Okay,” she whispers weakly, putting the phone on speaker and sinking back down into the mattress, laying the phone on her chest. There was an uncomfortable weight weighing her down from the inside out, and the pressure served as a good reminder to breathe as she anticipated the return of her boyfriend back to the phone. 

“M’kay baby, talk to me. What’s the matter? Are you okay?” His voice exits from her speaker, another whimper emitting from her throat without warning. 

“I jus— God, H. It’s so pathetic,” she sniffles, placing her hands over her eyes. “I jus’ miss you. So much.” 

“Oh lovie,” a few soft shuffles are heard from his end of the line, and you can only assume he found a quiet place to sit down. “I miss y’so so much more.” 

She nods even though she knows he can’t see her, but she knows her sweet boy knows her so well. “‘M trying to be supportive, trying to not freak out about you not being here, but it’s so hard, H.” 

Trying to stifle the aggressive breaths leaving her mouth, she composed the best she can before speaking again. “I just want you to come home. I know I’ll be with you in a couple of days, but I just want you home. ‘M sorry, it’s so selfish of me to say this when you’re all alo-“ 

“Shh, my love. It’s okay. Take deep breaths, can y’do that for me first really quick, sweet girl? Sweet sunshine baby, miss you so much.” Harry cuts her off, knowing that she would cry and gasp her way into a potentially dangerous situation, and he couldn’t handle the thought of her being in danger especially when he wasn’t there. 

“Okay, fuck, ‘M so sorry, H.” She breathes out, voice still wobbly, her breathing becoming a little more stable by the second. 

“You don’t have to be sorry, ‘s what I'm here for, isn’t it? Now, tell me what’s got you so upset that you’ve cried y’self out so hard that y’got a killer headache right now?” His lips quirk up at the soft, barely noticeable laugh coming from the other end of the line. One that probably would’ve gone unnoticed to anyone else, but not to Harry. 

“How’d you know? Hurts like hell, though. But, um— I miss you, a lot, obviously. And I hate that we’ve been fighting more now that you’re on the road again and I’m not with you, it doesn’t feel good because all I want is you here with me. All I want is you to come home. It- it feels so empty without you here.” 

“Princess, I-“ he starts, but she cuts him off before he could continue. 

“In all four years of our relationship, it’s never been so hard for us to be- us? And I thought about it, y’know, been crying myself to death over you, Mr. Styles, you’re quite the heartthrob. Literally.” You snort softly, trying to break the ice. Her lips draw up when she hears a matching chuckle coming from him. 

“Tell me then, what’d you realize, silly girl?” He says. 

“I don’t feel like I can be away form you for too long. It doesn’t feel like home here, and I think,” She whispers. “None of our places feel like home when you're not there. I think home has always been wherever you are.”

“Lovie,” Harry’s voice breaks, a telltale sign that he too was feeling the swell of emotion. “Y’breaking m’heart over here.”

“I’m sorry, I just– y'told me to be honest and you needed-”

“I needed to know. Thank y’for telling me, but I’ll see you so soon, Angel. Actually, I can even-” His voice cuts before more rustling is heard, and she can hear the muffled sounds of Harry’s voice, so she assumes that he’s pressed the phone to his chest. A few more brief hums are heard before a muffled ‘thank you!’ makes her brows furrow. “Right then, what’re you doing in like, say 4 to 5 hours?” 

She makes a confused face at this. “What? Uh– nothing, why?”

“You’re coming home, baby.”

—

After exclamations of shock were given to Harry, he excuses himself from the call to get back to his meeting, leaving Y/N laying in her bed staring at the same stars that watched her weep in shock. She sits up with her hands on the white duvet, eyes wide as she whispers out, “I have to pack.”

Jumping out of her bed, she wheels her extra large suitcase out of hers and H’s shared walk-in closet, her green Pleasing beach bag already resting on one of the hooks on the bedroom door. A flurry of clothes, toiletries, makeup, and hair equipment gets sporadically thrown around the room, everything ultimately ending up in her suitcase. She places her more important items into her beach bag which now worked as her carry-on, and wheels everything out into the foyer. 

Checking the time which now reads 6:30, she calls for an Uber to arrive at their house to transport her to the LAX airport. Her flight was set to leave in 2 and half hours, leaving her with just enough time to check in, find her gate, and grab a coffee once she's got to her terminal.

—

The long flight went just as expected, her fear of flying slightly eliminated by the (in her opinion, wildly unnecessary) first-class seating, courtesy of her incredibly dramatic boyfriend. She fell asleep 2 hours into the flight and slept for the majority of the it, her lack of sleep finally catching up to her. Waking up about 30 minutes before landing, she twists her head to open the window door, being greeted with the softest sunset she’s convinced she’s ever seen. And suddenly, her chest doesn’t feel as tight anymore.

The baggage claim was a wreck, delaying her from seeing Harry by another hour, but eventually, she made it into the car of the driver that Harry sent. Staring out the window, the condensation from the weather outside slightly obstructed her view of the beautiful city that she’d never seen before, and all she could think about was how she wanted to experience it with her love. 

“Ma’am, we’re here.” The driver calls from the front, distracting her from her thoughts. Thanking him profusely, she jumps out of the vehicle, running toward the back entrance that Jeff had texted her to go to. The security guard at the door, James, a kind older man who she’s known since she started dating Harry, opens his arms and greets her with a smile. She grins and runs into his arms, James lifting her a little. Her dynamic with James reminded her of the relationship she'd had with her late father, and that made him even more important and special to her. 

“Mi sonrisa,” She looks at him with a bright smile. “Welcome back.” 

“Muchas gracias, te he extrañado,” She greets back, grabbing the VIP pass that he’d pulled out of his pocket. “I’ll see you in a few, thank you for waiting for me!” 

A wide grin is now plastered on her face, nearly splitting her face in half. This is where she belonged. Skipping down the halls of the venue, occasionally asking a worker passing by where the hallways were to get to the dressing rooms. Once she finally found them, she walked up to Harry’s, a nervous twinge making itself known in her tummy. Raising a fist to knock, she taps on the door softly with her knuckles, waiting for Harry to answer the door. She doesn’t even have time to register that the door opened at all before she’s grabbed by Harry and immediately pulled into his arms.

“My sweet love,” His voice is hoarse, strained, almost as if he’d been crying. He pulls her back just enough to see her face, a soft smile on his face and green eyes shiny with tears. He places a kiss on her forehead, before dipping down to be eye level with her and laying the softest kiss on her lips. It was featherlight, and the room was quiet, so quiet, that the only sounds that were heard were their soft, slowly interconnecting breaths, and the soft smack of their lips breaking. Harry stared at her face once more, Y/N sharing the same sentiment, nothing but pure understanding in both of their eyes. It was Y/N who broke first this time, connecting their lips in a deeper, meaningful kiss. 

When they both pulled away, Harry pressed another kiss to her temple before cradling the back of her head with his hand, bringing her face into his neck. Tilting his head down to have his lips leveled with her ear, he whispered, “Welcome home.”

✿✿✿

[gbukkii]

plug Connie x black reader sum nasty smut and angst 🥰🥰

oh yes bby i got youuuu.

A/N: i haven't wrote any sort of smut since march so this might be kinda bad. other than that please enjoy :)

synopsis: you and connie have been arguing, leading to make up sex at a party.

tags: degradation, creampie, smut with plot, eye fucking, cunnilingus, p in v.

ＤＲＡＮＫ ！； ｃｏｎｎｉｅ ｓｐｒｉｎｇｅｒ

"Babe, I'm done arguing with you," Connie said looking at you. You sat with your legs crossed on the shared bed you and your boyfriend slept on. Your bonnet was slightly crooked to the side with your back slouched.

"You're doing too much." He added as he stood at the foot of the bed looking at you like you were crazy.

Lately, you and Connie have been arguing over complete nonsense.

Yesterday you guys argued about him being out all night doing his work which consisted of selling the local population drugs. This morning you guys argued over who had to wash the dishes.

"Baby, I told you I would do them later after I was done with my deliveries." He softly explained to you. "I don't understand why you're so frustrated with me." He said, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"You don't understand?" You asked, mocking the tone of his voice. Connie sighed loudly as you said that; you were really getting on his nerves.

"You don't understand that your drug dealing impacts our relationship?" Your voice got a little bit louder as you spoke, you were growing tired of his absence. This relationship was feeling extremely one-sided.

"You know what I did before you got with me." He tells you, his voice is low as he looks at you in disbelief.

You were tired of this conversation. You get up from the bed and before you can walk past Connie he grabs your arm softly, not being too rough.

"Connie get off of me!" You snapped at him, pulling your arm away from his grip.

"Don't yell at me." He told you, his voice sounding more like a warning as he looked down at you with those big eyes that you adored so much.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked down at you like that. But, you were tired of him constantly making promises and leaving them empty.

"I need space." You told him, changing your tone of voice realizing that snapping on him wouldn't improve the situation.

When you said you needed space that pissed him off. "What do you mean?" His agitation visibly showed on his face.

"I need to be alone for a couple of days." You told him as you looked up at him, waiting to see his reaction. "Where the fuck are you gonna go?" He quickly said.

He was obviously mad.

Why do you need space over a stupid argument?

"So you need space because I told you to wait for me to do the dishes?" He asked you condescendingly, that tone really ticked you off.

"No, I need space because you don't have your priorities straight." You said as you started to put on your Crocs to leave the apartment.

Connie was looking at you too stunned to speak. You were actually leaving. "Where are you going? I don't care about all that other shit." He says, following your every move.

You rolled your eyes as he spoke. "I know you don't care, that's the point." You snapped as you took the keys to your car.

"I'll be at my parents, let me know when you have your shit together." You said before walking out the door, slamming it in Connie's face.

The moment you slammed the door in Connies face he backed up. He murmured something under his breath and then let out a sigh while scratching his head in confusion.

You giggled while being on FaceTime with some of your closest friends.

You haven't talked to Connie in a couple of days. You've been with your parents staying low.

"Y/n, are you going to Jeans' party?" Your friend Aliviya asked you.

"I was supposed to go," You softly told her while looking directly at your laptops camera. "But, now I'm not sure" You added.

Jean was one of Connie's closest friends, they grew up together and even did business with one another.

"Bitch, don't let your argument ruin your fun." Your friend Samantha said, your other friends on the call nodding their heads in agreement.

"You're coming," Aliviya said, leaving no room for an argument. "I'll come get you at twelve, that gives you plenty of time to get ready." She says before leaving the call. After Aliviya left, everybody said their goodbyes.

You closed your MacBook after everybody left the call, sighing while looking at yourself in the vanity mirror.

You got yourself ready. Blasting your favorite songs from your playlist to lift up your spirits, despite how much you hate to admit this; arguing with Connie was affecting you.

The knot-less boho braids in your hair touched your butt in the black, but classy party dress that you were wearing. You checked yourself out in the mirror before spraying tons of vanilla scented perfume.

You did one last spin in the mirror before grabbing your gold clutch and phone. When you checked your phone you saw that Aliviya had texted you, signaling that she was outside waiting for you.

After you put on your heels you left your parents house to see Aliviya's obnoxious car outside playing music, and of course, smelling like weed.

You entered Jeans house with your friends, the loud music practically making you deaf. The smell of alcohol and different strains of weed hit you like a ton of bricks.

Aliviya leads you to the drinks, quickly offering you something to get your mind off of things. To be honest, you needed it.

But, as soon as you took that sip of Pink Whitney you immediately spotted your boyfriend talking to Jean. You guys made eye contact, and you looked away in a heartbeat.

Connie then excused himself from the conversation he was having with Jean and approached you.

"So, you're gonna act like you didn't see me?" He pressed you while taking long glances at your curvy body. You shifted uncomfortably at his gaze, him looking at you was making you incredibly aroused.

Your cocky boyfriend takes note of this. "Who you wearing this for?" He said, pulling at the straps of your body-con dress. His eyes were on you, and only you.

"I'm wearing this dress for myself." You told him while trying to move away from him and his wandering eyes. He raised an eyebrow at your statement, he also realized that you were trying to move away from him.

He discreetly pinned you against the kitchen counter with his hands on your hips. You were looking everywhere but him, searching for your friend Aliviya but her tongue was down Jeans throat.

"Hey, look at me." Connie said, "You haven't looked at me since you got here." He pointed out, and it was true. When you did make eye contact with him you quickly looked away.

You didn't know if it was the tension from the argument between you, or the tension in your panties that was begging to be fucked.

When he said that you looked at him, your brown skin was glowing with rosy cheeks. Connie smiled at this, you were always so good for him. Listening to him, as you should.

"Come with me." He said, taking your hand and quickly leading you through the crowded house. After walking in on multiple couples in the rooms, you found an empty bathroom.

Connie wasted no time grabbing you firm, but gently on the neck and bringing you in for a deep passionate kiss. The kiss was slow at first, and then progressively got quicker and nastier.

Connie broke the kiss, placing his big tatted hands on your butt and lifting you up onto the sink. Your legs involuntarily opened for him, your body already knew the routine.

The song Swimming Pools came on. The lyrics were muffled but you recognized the beat.

Before you knew it, Connie was in between your legs taking off your panties with his teeth looking up at you the entire time. He teased you, kissing and licking your inner thighs slowly.

Without a warning he then began to fiercely suck on your clit, still looking up at you. "Oh my fucking god." You mewled, grinding your pussy impatiently on Connies face.

He then began to lick on your folds to the beat of the song playing throughout the house. You moaned loudly, letting Connie know that you were close.

But, you didn't deserve to finish. Not yet.

Connie abruptly stopped his licking, making you whine at the loss of friction. He brang his face out from between your thighs. He had your juices all over his pink lips.

He looked at your face, noticing the look of disappointment. "You think you deserve to cum after the way you've been acting?" He asks you.

He pulls you down from the sink, quickly not leaving you any time to complain. He bends you over so you were facing the bathroom mirror.

You hear Connie undoing his belt, and taking his thick and long dick out. He then grabbed you by the face.

"You're gonna look at me while I'm fucking you, understand?" You quickly nodded your head. You were desperate for him, all this arguing had you pent up and horny.

He let go of your face and then slapped your wet pussy with his hand, making you jolt forward and let out a tiny whimper before he stuck his thick digits in you. He was preparing you for the real deal.

He fingered you until you were on the brink of cumming, he then pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt. You see him lick his fingers clean from behind you through the mirror.

Connie gently grabbed you by the waist, although he was gentle he still made it known that he had dominance. He led his big throbbing dick into you, letting out a moan as he bottoms out.

He looks at you through the mirror, making sure you were still paying attention and following his directions. He then started to move quickly and with a purpose.

He watched as the flesh of your ass connected with his balls. "Look at you, you're such a whore for me." He said through gritted teeth while he continued to look at you through the mirror.

Everytime you closed your eyes and didn't watch him, he roughly hit your g-spot making your eyes open with a moan.

He pulled you by your braids as he roughly fucked into you, he was leaving you a moaning mess. "Connie!" You moaned his name as you came closer to release.

"What baby?" He mocked as he continued to fuck you. He let go of your braids, moving closer to your neck while thrusting up into you. He began to kiss on your neck, feeling a little bit sorry for the way he was fucking you.

He felt you were getting tight around him. The knot in your stomach snapped, you came all over his dick. He continued to fuck you through your orgasm trying to reach his.

He smacked your ass making you moan loudly. That moan sent him over the edge, he came in you. Releasing all of his load and frustration into you.

You were both out of breath, you stood bent over the sink for awhile before Connie said anything.

"So, do I still have to do those dishes?"

[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? 

[setsugekka]

❥déjà rêvé (m)

↳ When your best friend marries her stuffy, stuck-up, long-time boyfriend, you swallow your feelings and put your reservations aside to support her...

...and when your erotic imagination takes hold of you one night in relation to him, you’re thankful for the fact that your friend is able to laugh it off.

Unfortunately, you’re not able to let it go as easily.

kim doyoung x fem!reader — enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, gratuitous sexual content, porn with plot [17.7k wc] cws: open relationship, alcohol consumption, social smoking. sexual content: bdsm-heavy!! dominant doyoung, submissive reader, unprotected penetrative sex (v+a), oral sex (m+f), gratuitous dirty talk/degradation/humiliation, cum play/facials/wet&messy, deep throating, safe word usage, ravishment play, infidelity play, spit play, doyoung has a big dick and fucks like a pornstar.

Seven years.

 Watching as your best friend now sat in glee as hired hair and makeup help dart around her to make sure that every strand, every eyelash be perfectly in place for her big day, you realize that now, after so long, it's difficult to even really recall the first few times that she started bringing him around. You remember the first night she mentioned him — a careful slide of a photo of him into the group chat, followed by the usual 'he looks better in person' commentary — although hilariously unnecessary given that the man stunning even back then.

You did, however, wish that his looks had translated more into his personality.

Unfortunately, it was no mystery the way that you and Doyoung did not get on. Never culminating into blow-out fights, or a need to pick sides, or even the ruining of an evening or vacation: But it was there. Petty jabs and comments slung about, backhanded slips of the tongue coming from either side at a moments notice — something that, earlier on, came to be of much contention between you, Mina, and her now husband-to-be. Over time, however, with the relationship growing, evolving, and coming to terms with the fact that this man most likely to remain in your life for as long as Mina would be, you decide on doing the only thing that a good, supportive, friend can do in such circumstances.

After all, you weren't the one marrying him, and thank fuck for that.

  "How do I look?"

Nearly tear-filled eyes looking up at you through the reflection of the mirror as you stand behind your best friend of a decade and more, you offer a tight-lipped smile back to her — in an effort to keep it together, really, you'd rather not cry your makeup off, as well.

"You look amazing, he's lucky," you begin genuinely before switching to a more playful tone. "And he better remember that, because I'll be watching."

With a sway of her hand, Mina shoos you away equally playfully and laughing through the fact that she was surely just about to start crying. "This long and you guys are still like this, are you ever going to get over it?"

"Is he ever going to stop being a pretentious douche? Because all signs point to 'no.'"

Cocking her head as if to say 'give me a break,' your bestie sighs audibly at the much anticipated response from you in regards to the matter.

"He's a good man."

You nod. "I know. He's good to you and, well — good enough to me, so I'll allow it, I suppose."

Would you choose to spend time with Doyoung if not for Mina; if not for the fact that he be obviously and irrevocably in love with her and treat her as such every moment of everyday? No.

But the rest of it sort of makes up for that fact.

One of the perks of having Kim Doyoung around is the money.

Of course, Mina doing well enough for herself that she need not rest on the laurels of a man, but marrying this one be far from a bad choice as far as financials go. A hard worker all through high school and college and landing a fancy, high-paying career gig straight out — only a few weeks after the wedding, the two bought a house together — an expensive, modern home a little bit on the outskirts of the city but not too far away as to make it inconvenient, glass paneling, black marble, and perfectly shined platinum stainless steel; the first time entering it, you can't help but think how it's precisely what one would expect upon being informed of the kind of money and stature that Doyoung has.

'New money,' they call it, and with it comes a certain expectation of being a prick, apparently.

The positives of all of this, of course, include that the man work long hours, and thus, you're free to be over without having to see much of him.

And thank God for that.

 "Drink?"

Already reaching up and into one of the white and glass cupboards just above as she calls out the question, you answer back a simple "sure" as she continues bringing down two, large, red wine glasses that you're almost certain cost far more than any reasonable person would pay for cups.

"Doie brought these back from Portugal the last time he went on business, apparently they're one of a kind, handmade."

"I swear to God every time you call him that I get the most intense case of sudden indigestion. No relation, though. I'm sure."

The same playfully annoyed cock of her head that you're used to seeing every time the man comes up into conversation, the both of you chuckle as she sets two glasses down onto perfectly shined marble countertops in front of you.

"There's like, thirty bottles of wine down here and I don't know what's fancy or not," Mina begins, already squatting down in front of the wine storage just beneath (and of course, something that Doyoung personally had built into the kitchen during renovations). Popping back up and grabbing her phone from across the shining table, "Let me ask him."

Only a few seconds of the phone ringing, the line is answered and you hear that all too familiar and also irritating voice come through. "On a work call, what's up, babe?"

You roll your eyes, it's nearly automatic. Mina slaps the marble in front of you like she's trying to dissuade a cat from something.

"We want to open a bottle of wine but I don't know what we can and can't have, so give me a name of something, quick."

"You can have anything you want," The man on the other end coos back. You sort of wish this conversation wasn't happening on speaker phone.

Rolling her eyes, Mina chuckles back at him. "You said some of these bottles are like, three hundred dollars."

"And? Let me know how it is, gotta-go-love-you-bye—" Doyoung sing-song's into the phone before cutting the line completely. You watch the way a grin takes your best friends face at the short but sweet conversation that has only just transpired and it reminds you that all things considered, and all personal feelings about the man aside, they're absolutely, remarkably in love with one another.

As if momentarily forgetting the fact that you're even there, in favor of daydreaming about her husband, Mina finally comes back down to the expensive kitchen with you. "He's so annoying."

"Yeah, I can tell that's totally how you feel about him right now," You respond with obvious sarcasm.

About an hour and a half later and two glasses of whatever accidentally expensive wine your friend has chosen, you're a little disappointed when you hear the familiar voice of The Husband coming down the stairs and slowly making his way into the kitchen.

Of course, and again: You don't hate him, but he always has some shit to say.

Finishing up a work call as he comes around the corner — gray sweatpants and a black, oversized sweatshirt with hair only a tiny bit disheveled and probably due to it being the end of the night for him finally, you watch intently as he leans against the large, stainless steel refrigerator — briefly making eye contact with you as he says goodbye to whatever late night client happens to be on the other end of the line.

With a heavy sigh, Doyoung outstretches his arms. "Finally, freedom."

"Until tomorrow—" Mina adds with a quick peck to his cheek as she hands him a glass of wine as well. The reminder unfortunate, wiping any joy from the mans features in an instant. "—Yes, until tomorrow."

Then, his eyes catch towards you. Bringing the rim of the glass to his lips, the words slip out just before he takes a sip. "And what about you? Do you work?"

Always something to say.

"I do!" You quickly quip back. "I work normal people hours, like most people do."

"I don't think hanging out with my wife is a job."

"Doie!" Mina huffs with a playful slap to his chest.

"I assure you, you don't have to be concerned about my working hours," you begin, taking another sip from your glass before setting it down onto the counter next to you. "At least I won't look seventy years old when I'm thirty, like some people."

"Ooh—" he plays along, eyes narrow as if you've almost got him on the losing side of the banter. "That may be true, but I'll still be rich, and I'll still have a sexy wife."

"Please spare me, I choose not to acknowledge that there is any sexual relationship between the two of you at any given moment in time."

Finishing off his glass and taking a step forward to set it down next to yours, he offers you a thin-lipped grin, as if accompanying it with his sympathies. "And I'm sure that's not a result of projection, at all. Anyway, have a good night, you two, I'm off to bed."

With a quick kiss to Mina and another tip of his head towards you, the man is off and back up the stairs.

Well enough out of earshot, your eyes shoot back to your friend. "Did he just imply I'm not getting fucked?"

She shrugs. "Are you?"

Scoff falling from your lips, you press the point of your index finger out and towards your bestie. "I was just out with that guy last week, remember?"

"And how did that go?"

"It was terrible, but that's not the point—" you answer dryly, as if it be the simplest thing in the world. "—The point is, I get dick, regardless of how questionable the quality may be."

Chuckling, Mina comes around to pick up the glasses and set them next to the sink. "I'll be sure to let him know, then."

"Please don't," You groan in response.

Long, thin, fingers wrapped around your wrist as you're quickly shuffled down the familiar, dimly lit hallway of their shared marital home before your back suddenly finds pressure against the cool wall — legs pulled apart to make room for his hips as you feel the all too familiar burn of being pried apart with not enough prep for such endeavors — enveloped suddenly by broad shoulders and a hard chest held firm against your own as you bite back the moan that threatens to echo down and against the walls, your fingers finding purchase in the fabric of such shoulders as they dig in to match the feeling of being taken so thoughtlessly, relentlessly.

"How do I feel?"

A rhetorical question of sorts, knowing that he can hear and feel the way you fall apart beneath him already and with such little effort on his end — one hand coming up between the wall and the back of your head to curl fingers into you hair and tug roughly on the strands as you hiss into a mouth just centimeters away but not quite touching your own. "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 Waking up in the morning, you don't recall many of the details — instead, living now with the irritating knowledge that you've had a sex dream about one man in particular that you wouldn't wish sex with onto your worst enemy.

Of course, it will pass — as things like this always do. It's just a dream, after all.

Right?

Wrong, regrettably.

Worse than having the dream itself, you think over the next few days, is the way that it simply won't leave you alone. Any moment of downtime in your thoughts now plagued by the memory of a certain best friends husband fucking you against the wall of their newlywed home — it's far from ideal, and for a plethora of reasons that don't necessarily need to be explained. And yet.

But, you know enough about Mina, and your friendship with her, that if you can confide in anyone about having a sex dream about their husband to get it off of your chest, it's her.

Sitting outside of a bougie cafe just down the street from Mina's work building as you wait for her to join you with legs crossed and a mimosa on the table in front of you, as you stare at the menu in an attempt to focus on what it is that you'll be ordering for lunch once your friend arrives, the words still find their way floating through your mind with no prompting, and a little bit too much ease.

 "God, how long have you wanted this?"

 "So long!" The familiar voice of your friend from just behind you pipes up and jars you from your thinking — and thank fuck for that, because any excuse not to be brought to that place is a good one, as far as you're concerned. "Took me so long to find parking here, I don't know why we always insist on coming to this place."

"Because it's central to both of us," you answer with a tone that says that this should be obvious. "Besides, you're always the one that wants to come here."

"What can I say, hot sandwiches here are amazing—" pausing the thought to flag down the wait staff, you place the menu down on the table and rub your eyes with the flat of your fingertips as her attention falls back to you. "—Do you know what you want to order? Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"Yes," you reply to the first question, only to hesitate on the second. "Nothing, tired. Work's been killing me."

"Aw, and Doie said that you don't work," She offers, a comforting tone that only offers the opposite with the addition of the pet name to her lover. Her husband.

"Can we not talk about that man?"

A questioning cock of her head and curiosity piqued, Mina smiles with narrowed eyes. "...Why? Did he say something else? You know, he's only joking—"

"No," you firmly cut her off with a wave of a hand as the waiter returns with a drink for her and an exasperated sigh from you. "He didn't say anything else. He's just...exhausting."

"You don't even know the half of it. I live with him," Mina cheerfully retorts as she takes her drink into hand.

 No, you don't even know the half of it.

 Allowing your friend to do a good bit of the rambling through lunch as you slowly make your way through your salad — you try to put it out of your mind just as much now as you have since that night — unfortunately, the very presence of the woman married to said man in question causing the thoughts to be just that much more at the forefront of your memory.

With a fork between teeth, Mina finally stills mid-sentence and glares at you through perfectly made up, long, eyelashes. "Alright, what the hell is up with you today?"

 Yes, you were busted, but if you were honest, you had every intention of telling her about it, anyway.

 With a groan and a roll of your eyes, you finish chewing through your lettuce before setting your own utensils down at the edge of the plate and dramatically falling back into your chair — a reluctant acceptance of defeat at the hands of your best friend. All perfectly pressed business suit and perfectly structured black hair that her ever so doting husband no doubt pays for to have her take care of.

This is so annoying.

"Well!?"

"Okay, okay, don't rush me, geez—" you cut her off with palms in the air. Allowing silence to once again fall between you — nothing more than the busy bustling of the street nearby and the other patrons of the restaurant around you — you sniffle sharply, now having accepted that this is a conversation that's definitely going to happen.

Her being upset, or angry, not something you're concerned about — rather, just the humiliation of having to admit it (and the way that it's lived in your mind ever since.)

"Have you ever — had a dream about someone else's partner?"

Visibly taken aback, and physically so as Mina jolts into her chair at the question, a chuckle falls from her lips as she just as quickly takes a sip from her tall glass again. "Are you kidding? I've banged Karina's man like, three times unconsciously."

The fast and honest reply has you nearly choking on the sip of drink you had mirrored her in taking.

"It's just a dream, it's not like we have any control over it. Why? Whose man dug you out?"

 Silence.

 Mina's eyes glued to your face as you bring your glass up to your lips again and pull your own line of vision as far from hers as you can manage without actually turning physically — you hate the way you can literally see as the knowledge finally dawns on her with how her teeth quickly begin to peer through the grin that plasters across her face.

"Stop—" she first says.

"Don't—" you respond just as quickly.

"—No way." She finishes with a gasp.

You immediately plant your face into the flat of your palms with an affirming groan.

And thus, your best friend does what anyone would do upon finding out that her friend had a sex dream about her husband: Let out the most annoying, boisterous witch-cackle that a single woman could possibly muster.

When her laughter finally dies down enough to manage in some breaths for an attempt at speaking, Mina takes another sip of her drink through tight lips that are quite evidently still trying to pull back the smile that she wants so badly to let pull across her features. "Well," she quietly begins. "How was it?"

"Really?"

"Just curious how fantasy matches up with reality, that's all."

Rolling your eyes at her curiosity, you can't help but make an attempt to pull the embarrassment from you, and onto the man in question. "I'm sure I was doing him the favor. It wasn't thirty seconds of missionary while he told me about finances so he should be thankful for that much."

Snorting through her nose, Mina's eyes drop down to her mostly-eaten sandwich before her. "Is that what you think it's like?"

"I simply do not think about it at all, actually."

"Evidently, that's not the case."

 With more silence coming between the two of you, now Mina is the one that cuts through it with an all too pointed, proverbial knife.

 "Do you want to fuck him?"

 Sputtering through more salad as the words enter your line of hearing, before you have a chance to answer, Mina amends the statement — as if she can read your mind. "Before you say 'no,' really think about it."

And so, you do. Quietly mulling over all of the possibilities, the thoughts that this bring to your mind — not limited to and especially the recollection of the dream — more than anything, it's a reminder that you don't actually even really like this man. You don't enjoy his company, and you don't particularly enjoy conversing with him. The purpose that Doyoung serve in your life be uniquely in relation to him being the perfect, most amazing husband to Mina.

And how this might be precisely how you ended up here to begin with.

But what this really brings to question is one very pointed, very particular thing:

"A-are you asking me if I want to have sex with your husband...with intention of granting me permission to do so?"

The woman across from you shrugs, calling the wait staff over again for another drink. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, one thing at a time. So, do you?"

Feeling a bit like a taboo, kinky carrot being dangled in front of your face — you know Mina well enough to know that she wouldn't be asking this in an attempt to set you up — to get upset with you, to drive a wedge between your friendship.

If she's asking, it's because she's genuinely curious, and has other such genuine intentions, as well.

Clearing your throat and blinking away the awkwardness in the fact that you're really about to answer this honestly: You could lie — pretend that it hasn't been stuck on your mind ever since, pretend that you haven't been fantasizing about him, and in a particularly low moment, cumming to the thought of him — but really, what good will that do you, now?

In fact, even just the conversation now bringing back the dull ache between your legs. Humiliating the power the subconscious can have over us.

"I mean," you quietly start with a shaky, unsure tone. "Yeah. Yes, I guess."

"I know, he's sexy, right? You wouldn't expect it but there's something about him—"

Your best friend regrettably far too accepting of this conversation topic.

"Look, it's not a big deal, I'm not like — dying for it," you cut her off suddenly, mostly in an attempt to deter the conversation from any more detail about that something about the man. "It's just like...in theory, you know, something about that angry, 'I don't like you, you don't like me' type of arrangement makes for a good fantasy but of course, it's just that."

"Right," she snorts again and into the glass pressed to her mouth. "Just that."

 Ten minutes later and with the check for lunch paid by the credit card of a particular husband, with Mina hurrying to gather her things on account of being late back to work — she hugs you quickly with one arm slung around you before rushing off the other way — but not before turning just as suddenly and whispering a little too loudly for your comfort given the people around.

"Look, obviously I can't make him fuck you, but I'll run it by him. I'll let you know. Cheers, babe!"

Great.

"Babe, come to bed!"

Tone whiny and pleading as she kicks her feet from beneath the covers of their shared, King sized bed, Mina groans into the pillow expectantly in anticipation of her husband joining her for a cuddle and a conversation.

Although, mostly the conversation, this time.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Doyoung chimes back from their white and gold accented bedroom, toothbrush shoved into his mouth as he peeks his head out through the doorway just before spitting into the sink. "Pushy, aren't you?"

"One of the many things you love about me."

As he saunters towards the side of the bed, all too aware of his surroundings and even more than that, the mischievous grin pulled across the lips of his beloved wife — eyes narrowing with suspicion, he slows his movements just ever so slightly before finally crawling into bed next to her and meeting beneath the sheets. "Why do I have a feeling you're not just looking to snuggle up with your wonderful husband, tonight?"

"Aw, Doie, don't be like that—" Mina whines, wrapping her arms around his and pulling her body against his as he flips through channels on the television against the wall in front of them. "—I had lunch with my bestie today."

Glancing out of his peripheral towards her, Doyoung hums inquisitively, as if unsure of what this has to do with him but anticipating that he's going to find out. "That's good. How is she?"

"She's good," every word coming out like she's singing a song — one made up of no-good and trouble — charming in her tone. "Although, she's had a lot on her mind, lately — so to say."

Pausing, the man shifts just slightly in place as he finally settles on a channel and sets the remote control down between the two of them. "And why do I have a bad feeling about what that means?"

Lips gently beginning to decorate the exposed skin of his shoulder and arm, Mina smiles into them just before the words finally leave her. "She had a dream about you."

"Okay?"

Slow on the pick-up.

This time, she delivers the information a bit more pointedly. "She had a dream about you."

"Oh," he says quietly at first, until the fact of the matter finally, truly, dawns on him. "Oh."

A squint and a frown now, Doyoung's head turns quickly towards his wife.

"And she told you this?"

Mina nods.

"You both are a little too close."

"Well?" She finally offers up the question at hand, lips still innocently peppering across her lovers skin. "What do you think?"

"Are you asking me if I want to fuck your best friend? How would this work, anyway? It's not as if we even get on all that well—"

"I think that's part of it for her."

"—Kinky minx."

Slowly pulling from Doyoung and groaning into a long stretch of her limbs as if settling in for slumber, she smiles again. "It wouldn't be the first time, anyways."

"Yeah, but never friends," he says, rubbing his palms over his face as if a little taken aback by the topic of conversation as a whole. "—I mean, I'm down, you know her better than I do — if you think she can handle it."

"We'll have the discussion later, I wanted to run it by you, first."

Reaching a hand over to his wife, Doyoung pulls her by the arm back over and against his torso with a kiss to the top of her head as she settles her face into the crook of his neck.

"My little liaison," the man chuckles into her hair lovingly. "You just wanna hear about all the dirty little details after the fact, don't you?"

Pulling back to meet eyes with him, a scrunch of her nose and a giggle gives Doyoung all of the answer he would ever really need.

"What can I say? Everyone wins."

Two glasses of wine poured and the both of you sat next to one another on the large and undoubtedly far too expensive plush couch of the living room — a certain comfort of being only in the company of your best friend — it brings you back to so many other instances like this through the years of your friendship, curled up on far less luxury items but sharing all of the intimate details of your loves and lives, as the closest of friends tend to do.

Tonight, however, would offer a bit of a different experience. You're prepared for it, suppose, as much as you possibly can be, given the circumstances at play.

 "He's not home, is he?" You question suddenly, Mina tucking her legs under the rest of her with glass in hand as she situates herself to be facing you. A smile and a chuckle, she shakes her head. "No, it's just us."

Exhaling a sigh of relief at the option of being walked in on by the very topic of conversation not being on the table, you allow yourself at least a tiny bit more of comfort with the affirmation.

"You're going to have to be honest with me," Mina begins, one corner of her lips tugging upwards. "I can only relay to him what you tell me, and he's not going to freestyle it, either, so—"

You take a much larger swig from your glass than previously had, nearly finishing off the contents of it.

"—Tell me what you want."

"Another glass of wine, for starters."

Snorting, your best friend leans towards the table to grab the bottle into hand, tilting it towards your glass and filling it all over again. "You don't have to be uncomfortable, like I said, it's not really the first time we've done this."

"Yeah, news to me," you sigh with a bit of shock cutting through it. "All these years and I never knew."

Shrugging, Mina sets the bottle down again before settling into place all over. "People tend to assume monogamy among couples, we just allowed them to do so. Not as much of a stick in the mud as you thought he is, huh?"

Choosing not to acknowledge that fact, you take another sip of your wine, waiting for the topic of conversation to shift to something that is — effectively the same topic, but more in pertinence to you, specifically.

"So, tell me."

A sharp inhale, you know that you don't have to go through with this: You can just as easily call the whole thing off and pretend that none of this has ever happened — and that the both of them would happily carry on with their lifestyle all the same — but the unshakable lust for the man now deeply imbedded within you, like an itch that's otherwise impossible to scratch — an offering to have it when under most other circumstances it would have to remain as a dull, silent ache only left to you and your own devices, as it were.

 A little too sweet of a deal to turn down, you find. Not God's strongest soldier, it seems.

 "I don't — I don't want him to all of a sudden pretend like we're best friends and that we get along perfectly," you begin cautiously and with eyes darting up towards your friend with every passing of every word. "I want it to feel natural, to feel real, so—"

"You want him to fuck you like he hates you?"

Laid out so simply, the idea of it makes your throat dry, but you nod all the same. "Yeah, yeah I guess so."

"Let me tell you something," your friend begins as she shifts into a more comfortable position with one leg out and over the side of the couch. "What's always been a little funny to me with your preconceived notions about how Doyoung is in bed — he's actually quite...intense."

"What does that mean?"

"He likes to be in control, there's a bit of a dominant streak in him."

Hearing the words, the math starts coming together in your head about the way the man carries himself, the way he works, and just the way he is in general — you're not quite sure how the idea never dawned on you, perhaps too wrapped up in all of the ways that you find him insufferable and a bore, it only natural to assume the same of his abilities.

Before you have a moment to focus on the ache between your thighs, your friend continues on.

"Does that...sound like something that would interest you?"

Swallowing down your pride along with your arousal, you nod until the rim of your wine glass.

"Well, that's easy enough, then," Mina scoffs with a casual roll of her eyes, as if she had almost been hoping for it to be a bit more of a challenge for him to fulfill the role asked of him. "In that case, what's off limits?"

 For some reason, you hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Your friend notices as much.

 "For what it's worth, there will be a safe word, so even if you agree to anything now or later or any time, really, you don't have to go through with anything if you're no longer having a good time."

Eyes widening at the concept of needing a safe word, you swallow hard. "That intense, huh?"

"It's up to you," she continues on. "It's not just for when things get wild or out of hand, hell, you can use it if you're just in the same room as him. Have you—" She pauses inquisitively, suddenly questioning whether or not this is a good idea at all. "—Done anything like this before?"

But hearing the reluctance in her tone, you nod quickly. "Yeah! Yes, not with...my best friends husband, though."

A cute grin across her face, Mina laughs with a coy flick of her wrist. "Don't get so caught up on that. He's my husband, yes, and for all intents and purposes very much still will be for the sake of the scene, but even more than that, he's here to fill a role — he knows that very well."

"Are you going to be involved?" You ask suddenly, the question only now popping into your mind. Your friend laughs.

"No, I mean, he'll tell me about it afterwards but I won't be like...planning scenes with him, or anything. Whatever he has in store for you — well, that's between the two of you, until after it happens, of course."

"Okay."

Taking a sip of her glass and glancing up at you through eyelashes, she brings the topic back around again. "So, no hard limits?"

"Piss play, shit play—" you quietly begin to list off before Mina stops you. "Okay, he's not into any of that either. I mean more along the lines of; name calling, degradation, humiliation, general rough-housing."

Even just thinking about partaking in half of those things with the man in passing sending a shiver down your spine, you shake your head. "I—I don't think so, maybe start slow, though."

"I'll let him know, again, don't be afraid to tell him to stop in the moment if he gets a little too carried away. He's a good dom."

'He's a good dom.'

What an absolutely perplexingly arousing set of words in succession.

Leaning back finally with your shoulders pressed to the couch, you exhale heavily with eyes high to the ceiling above as your friend mirrors your movement — but instead, with a bright smile pulling across her red, wine-stained lips.

"This is going to be so fun."

Part of the fun, you come to find, is the not knowing.

Even with rules, and safe words, and all of the parties involved very much having come to an understanding of the ins and outs of such an endeavor, the truth of the matter was this: You had no way of knowing when, or what, Doyoung has in store for you.

It's a little bit of risky play, too, at the core level. The fact that the two of you not be explicitly exchanging words among yourselves in order to maintain a certain sense of authenticity to the scene (far from unusual, in the kink world), but new to you, and most definitely requiring a level of trust among all people involved. Far from your favorite person, sure, but you trusted him — and that's far and away what a scenario like this require in order to make it run without a hitch.

And so the question runs constant at the forefront of your mind as you stand in front of your mirror, getting ready for the couples housewarming party: Are you going to fuck your best friends husband tonight?

Stemming from that very simple question, of course, comes a plethora of others: What should one wear? Is it too presumptuous to assume as much? What if it's just a normal evening party and you're completely out of your element in thinking he would fuck you tonight? Do you want to fuck him tonight?

Unfortunately, the answer to that one is an easy yes.

One of the rules being simple enough: The arrangement ends once you and Doyoung have penis in vagina sex — that considered to be the 'goal,' which then only begs the question of how much is the man intending to put you through before even getting to that point?

Or is he to get it done and over with as quickly as possible, instead?

Glancing into the reflection of the mirror and towards a simple, three-quarter sleeve black dress that hands down fitted to the knees, you think it sexy but not too sexy. Just sexy enough. The right amount of sexy.

Let's not appear too excited, after all.

  "Darling, you made it!"

Mina's voice ringing through the kitchen in a faux-french accent as she pours wine for a couple of friends — handing you a glass, she kisses your cheek before pulling away to look you up and down. "You look ravishing, my dear."

God, you hope so.

You find, however, that now that you're here, it's a bit more awkward than anticipated. Man of the hour no where to be found just yet, but unable to stop looking over your shoulder in an attempt to locate him — you sort of hope that your friend be all too preoccupied with the other guests to catch wind of just how hungry for this you may actually be.

Side pressed against the cupboard, you feel the nudge of someone attempting to open it, and turning in an instant to move yourself from out of the way, you're not at all prepared to meet the narrow, dark eyes of the man you're meant to — whatever, with — at some point in time.

You think that your stomach falls out of your ass right then and there.

"Look who showed up! You do take your job of being my wife's friend very seriously, after all."

"Doie! Don't start, it's not even ten o-clock yet!"

 It's almost bizarre to you the way that things carry on with such normalcy, given all of the ways in which the goings on between the three of you now be anything but. Reaching up and towards a bag of chips, with the mans eyes turned towards the subject, you allow yourself the greedy view of his fitted, navy blue button down tucked perfectly into black slacks, with a belt that you're sure costs more than your car payment, accenting it.

Sleeves pushed up and off of his forearms, you take in the way that the muscles and veins flex and move as he does.

Seeing Kim Doyoung in a whole new light — and more than that, you're allowed to do so.

How can a man this fucking insufferable look like this.

"I'll have you know, I can't be out late tonight," you bite back, a good effort in pretending that you hadn't just been eye-fucking him only seconds earlier. "Early morning in the office, tomorrow."

"What a shame," he exasperates sarcastically, settling back down to his heels and handing off the bag to Mina as she walks by with a carefully placed elbow into his side for...being the way that he is. "Don't let us keep you."

"Be nice." You hear your friend groan from just down the hall.

Everything the same as it always is.

Shrugging and reaching to his other side, the man grabs a single popcorn — tossing it into his mouth with a quirk of his eyebrows. "Don't worry, I was just leaving. Some of us still have work to do."

You have really got to get this out of your system.

  "Mina!"

Shouting through the open flooring of the living space towards your friend, you don't bother waiting to hear back a response before you carry on with the thought.

"Is the downstairs bathroom working yet?"

"No, you have to use our bathroom. Upstairs, to the right, all the way down."

With a quick yell back, you hurry yourself up the while, marbled staircase — not having to go particularly badly yet but mostly instead wishing to get away from the volume of the crowd downstairs for a bit — you realize it's your first time having been on the second floor of the home. Still so new and unexplored, you can't help but take in the sight in a way that feels akin to sight-seeing.

The two certainly did not do badly for themselves.

Slowly making your way down the hallway, your attention is instead drawn to a single room to the left and just before the end of the hall — the tiniest bit of flickering, blue light spilling out from the open doorway — simply enough, you know who reside inside.

Carefully sneaking past in an attempt not to disturb him as he works, you can't help but turn your head to peek at the man inside: head cocked to the side to hold his phone there as his hands work busily at a keyboard on the desk in front of him — but you should really know better than to think that you can get away that easily.

Eyes picking up and towards you, one hand pulling upwards and pushing out his index finger towards you. That silent motion that we all know.

The 'come hither.'

Glancing back down the hall from the direction in which you came, you slowly step towards the doorway, palms nervously pressed to either side before slipping past as quietly as can be — then, with the flick of his wrist, Doyoung motions for you to shut the door behind you.

Your heart rate spikes so hard you feel dizzy.

Hand shaking as you reach out and toward the door, you carefully pull it closed behind you — not all of the way, still sitting ajar just behind you — but seemingly good enough for the man and with eyes glued to you all the while, it's then that he motions once again with his finger for you to come to him.

A slow saunter, feeling the way that your heart beats so hard and fast against your chest you're certain that the people on the other end of the phone can hear it, once you reach just beside him, it's then that he finally swivels his chair around and to the side to face you.

Along with issuing another command: To get on your knees.

The truth of it is that it's humiliating how aroused you already are by it all: A quiet, drowning culmination of so many things happening all at once. The fact that it's so wrong to be doing at all, the fact that you had only an hour ago been downstairs reconsidering if it was worth it entirely given how horrible he is, and beyond all of that — the unknown.

A dull thrum between your legs as you slowly kneel down and between his, thankful at least for the friction that that provides.

Legs spread wide before you, you watch as Doyoung slowly slips one hand down the front of his pants to settle over the growing bulge beneath. Barely noticeable strokes over himself and only inches from your face — remaining calm and collected on the work call in his ear as he does so, you slowly bring a hand up to unfasten his belt as the heady desire of watching him work himself begins to course through even pump of your veins.

Catching your wrist in his other hand just as quickly to stop you from touching him, the two of you make eye contact: a look in his features of displeasure and disapproval.

You're not allowed to touch him.

Watching in silence as Doyoung's head falls back against the office chair, barely able to make out the strands of black hair sticking to his slicked forehead — you can't hear him, on account of the call, but the visual enough to drive you mad, and probably even worse than the dream had ever done — pressing your thighs together as tightly as you can manage as you eye the movement of his fist beneath the fabric of his slacks. Growing faster, using his free hand to pull his shirt up and out of the way so that you can watch the way the muscles of his abdomen move with every tug of his hand against his cock — it's truly the most excruciating and simultaneously intoxicatingly arousing thing you've ever watched.

Internally begging for the request that you climb up and onto his lap to take him, or at the very least taste him, you realize all too suddenly that you might really be in over your head this time as you watch him come in his pants for your viewing pleasure, only.

Completely silent, heavy breaths as his chest rises and falls with each one, Doyoung brings his head back up from the back of the chair to tentatively meet your eyes once again as he pulls his dirtied fingers from the inside of his pants.

Playing with the way that his cum coats his fingers for a brief moment, he motions for you one last time — but this time, a much different meaning to that single, cum-covered digit.

You waste no time leaning toward him, and for a moment, it's like you don't even recognize yourself, anymore; long past the realm of the kind of lust-drunken stupor you've ever experienced before — and as the man shoves long, sullied fingers into your mouth, it's an automatic response the way you suck and swirl your tongue around them, as if wishing them to be the cock you would be more than willing to beg for any moment now.

When finished, Doyoung frees his hands from your lips, only to motion you away from him just as simply as he had beckoned you.

 Stumbling down the hall towards the bathroom in which you had originally intended to find, panties slick and soiled with nothing besides your own desire — the words from your bestie ring loud through your memory in a horny daze.

'Intense' might have been the understatement of the year.

When Mina invites you to a work party for her husband, all that you can think about is the night of their housewarming: sucking his cum off of his fingers in the dull, blueish glow of a computer monitor.

You wonder if she knows. Surely, she knows.

Similarly, modestly dressed as that night — this time in a nice blouse and a fitted pair of dress pants, your friend praises your attire as you enter the busy conference room, shoving a tall glass of bubbly into your hands just as quickly as you're able to greet her back.

"Thank you for coming," she sighs in relief. "I was so fucking bored."

You can't help but wonder what this evening has in store for you now.

Now that you've gotten a taste...no pun intended.

"Sure, I didn't have anything better to do."

"Unsurprising, stuff like this is your job, after all, isn't it?"

Slipping up from the side of the both of you with a proud smirk — hair slicked back and off of his forehead to accompany the the just as put together look of his freshly pressed suit, Doyoung comes up to settle next to his wife, hand settling just at the curve of her hip.

You sort of wonder what it feels like to so easily be touched by him before shaking the thought from your mind entirely.

"Are you ever going to let that joke go?" You ask with a roll of the eyes. "It wasn't funny the first time, promise it's not getting funnier the more mileage it gets."

"I'll stop making it when you stop showing up everywhere, maybe."

"She invited me!" You scoff, only to watch the man bend over to whisper the response into Mina's ear. "Don't worry, I'll handle her for that later."

Out loud, your response is of feigned disgust at the sight, but inside, the visual of the man so vividly offering himself to someone once again reigniting the lust in your gut.

It's a deep, untamed need to have him, now. Part of you hopes that tonight will be the night that he finally puts you out of your misery. Get it out of your system, and move on with your life. Go back to nothing but pointed distaste for the man that your best friend chose to marry.

"Well, I'm off, got to make the rounds," The man finally says with a kiss to the top of his wife’s head before gifting you nothing but a raise of the eyebrows in acknowledge of your existence. "Have fun."

It's funny, because it's precisely what you had requested. For him not to pretend. To not act differently in any other circumstances — for everything to carry on as it normally would. You wonder if it's a conscious effort on his part to do so, or if it simply comes that easy to the man.

  Quarter past eleven, you make your way out and onto the balcony by yourself — Mina off enjoying herself with a couple of the other work wives — weaving your away around a handful of folded and tucked umbrellas, tables and chairs for outdoor dining — you manage to find yourself a comfortable little nook of privacy off and to the side, and far from the line of sight of any prying eyes.

Thankfully, as it not be much of a habit you wish to be caught partaking in.

Digging into your bag to drag out the long, white stick from its box along with a lighter and sandwiching it between gently parted, red-stained lips, you light the cigarette and inhale with a feeling of relief washing over you — no, not a habit that you find yourself indulging in often, but perhaps after a few drinks on a particular night, you'd be known to have a bit of crumble to your resolve.

You know that Mina would have a thing or two to say, so best that she not know at all.

 "Look at you—"

Not just the sound of a voice, but a mans voice at that being the thing to startle you, swinging around to find the visage only slightly more comforting than that of a strangers.

"—Don't you have secrets."

Strolling towards you with hands in pockets, you watch as Doyoung closes the distance between the two of you with a toothpick between teeth, and feeling like a child caught red-handed, the lump in your throat catches any chance you have at swallowing down the obvious nervousness carried through your body at his discovery.

Turning away and facing out towards the railing of the balcony, you choose instead not to give power to his overwhelming presence as you inhale another puff of the stick.

"It's just a social thing when I drink."

A quick, careful shift of his body and Doyoung just as easily has you caged in with arms on either side and chest pressed to your back.

It's not the only thing pressed to your back side, either.

Mouth dipping down into the crook of your neck as you carry on your desperate attempt to ignore him, he never kisses you — never actually makes contact of his lips to your skin — but the feathering of warm breath that smells of expensive scotch all the same kind of intoxicating, as if having drank the liquor yourself.

"Have you thought about the other night?"

The first, verbal acknowledgement of this between the two of you. Suppose, it always was just a matter of time before actual words had to be spoken in relation to it, but with one hand sliding closer to your own along the guard rail as the warmth of the words linger against your skin, you swallow dryly at the question before attempting an answer.

"Y-yeah."

"Did you like how I tasted?"

Doyoung answers back to you much too quickly for your liking, obviously far more comfortable and in control of this interaction than you find yourself to be — by design, based on Mina's run down of the man and his sexual preferences — but more surprisingly than that is the way that it doesn't feel alarming, or discomforting, but rather, pools the arousal between your legs faster than you think anyone or anything else ever has.

It's humiliating, and unfortunately, that sort of adds to it, as well.

Fingers around your wrist, the man pulls you around and back towards one of the tables just behind where the both of you stand — a small, couch-like set up with a cloth awning that doesn't allow for a visual inside of it unless you be directly in the front of it — Doyoung drags you gently towards it before seating himself down with legs spread, and this time, hands busily working at his belt as he stares up at you.

"Knees."

If someone had asked you why you simply obey the commands, you wouldn't even really be able to tell them outside of the throbbing, painful need to find out what obeying may get you in the end.

Taking your place between his legs, you dare not attempt to reach out and touch him this time, figure, you learned your lesson from the first encounter enough — watching instead as his fingers pull the leather from it's loops, then work at the button just beneath — a quick lift of his hips to press his dress slacks down only enough to expose himself as necessary, but with the added coverage of his briefs, as well.

You realize now, in this moment, that you'll do just about anything to fucking see it.

Same hand as before sliding down his stomach and gripping his cock from under the remaining fabric, you watch with lewd attentiveness as the man strokes himself in front of your face all over again, just as before.

"Want another taste?" He says, words airy and lustful. Nodding your head in affirmation like a dog begging for a treat, Doyoung chuckles under his breath. "Are you wet?"

The question excites you more than anything else, because surely, he's asking for one reason and one reason, alone.

Quickly darting your hand down and between your legs, the man shoots up and off of the back of the seat with a sudden urgency. "Don't. Don't touch yourself. Surely you know without checking."

Nodding again, you try to say "yes," but the words barely escape through the dryness of your mouth.

"Good girl," he answers, leaning against the seat again and slipping thumbs into the sides of the fabric remaining at his hips to pull it down only a few more inches from where it currently lie. Watching intently as his cock springs free from the confines — finally in full view for you — long and perfectly curved, not too thin but not enough thickness to him that taking him would be troublesome, suddenly, it's as if the problem of your mouth being too dry be replaced now by one of being too wet — watering at the sight of something you want to feel inside of you so desperately that by the second you find yourself losing the ability to feign disinterest in him.

Dominant hand snaking around his length again, Doyoung brings his other hand forward and towards you — wrapping around to the back of your head and fingers curling into the strands of hair there. It stings, but nothing too bad, and instead you find the pain only amplify the throb between your legs now as he dangle precisely what it is that you want just out of reach and in front of your face with every slow, gentle stroke of his hand along his cock.

"You want another taste, yeah?" He whispers this time as he tightens his grip into your hair and tilts your head back — perfect angle for the wet, head of his cock to rub just at your chin and bottom of your lip.

It's exciting, painfully so, as the untouched arousal coiling within you threatens. For a second, you really wonder if you can cum from this alone.

"If I cum for you will you be a good girl and swallow it for me?" He says then as the movement of his hand begins to pick up just that much more. "I come a lot, can you handle that?"

For some reason, the thought of the man having full, heavy loads of cum makes you even hotter for him. Something so primal and lewd about the idea of it — but perhaps you're too fucked out on not being fucked by now that you can't tell what's sexy and what's not, anymore.

Either are possible.

"Y-yes," you huff out, darting your tongue out to lick at the bottom of your lip and not-so-accidentally meeting with the tip of his length. Devilish grin taking his features, Doyoung stills his actions just as easily — an impressive amount of self-control. "Uh-uh, that's cheating."

Pulling you up and higher from your knees so that you gain more height above him, with the way that you're positioned over his cock, you think that he may threaten to impale your throat on him in one, smooth go. Deep down, you sort of hope he does.

"Spit."

The command comes through so strong in tone that you quickly answer to it, collecting enough saliva in your mouth to dribble down and onto the already plenty wet shaft of his cock as he continues to stroke himself through it with a low, throaty groan that makes you want nothing more than to swallow him whole with how close you are to it.

"Wanna suck my cock, baby?"

You nod wildly.

Hissing through his teeth at the sight of your neediness, he picks up the pace of his fist along his shaft as he settles you back down to your original position between his knees — tip of himself pressed along your lip. "How bad do you want it? Will you beg to have me in your mouth?"

"Yes, please—"

"I didn't say to beg, I just asked if you would," he amends with a patronizing cock of his head. "Want me to fuck your throat? Choke down my cum for me like a good girl?"

The throb nearly unbearable now, you can only whine at the words as he gets closer and closer to his own completion.

"Why don't you open that pretty little mouth for me so I can give you what you came here for?"

The words coming out in a deep, throaty groan as he teeters on the edge of completion, you allow your jaw to fall slack as he fucks himself with his hand a few more times before moaning out through gritted teeth at the feeling of his release — ropes of warm, wet cum painting your cheek and lips despite mostly being caught on your tongue as he comes in waves with every pull of his fingers along his length until finally stilling — leaning forward only to gaze upon his artistic handy work before telling you to swallow it all as previously instructed.

On the way home that night, only ten, simple words lingering on your mind as you make peace with the discomfort of your arousal along the way.

'so I can give you what you came here for.'

"Mina! I'm—"

Turning the corner and into the kitchen to find the door to fridge open — this is all well and good, except for, of course, once it closes and you're forced into contact with the same man who just came in your mouth unceremoniously a week prior.

Expressionless otherwise, Doyoung raises an eyebrow at the sight of you in his home before closing the stainless steel door and walking the other way.

"Guess my lovely wife forgot to inform her employee about the schedule change!" He says with a huff.

"You have got to let that joke go."

Right back to the usual. You wonder what sort of cruel games God plays when granting such a horrible man such a beautiful cock.

Shrugging and turning to look back at you from over his shoulder, the man takes a pitcher of water from the counter; pouring himself a glass before taking another one down from the cupboard and filling that, as well. Slowly carrying on towards you, he hands you the perfect crystal before nodding towards the marble island sitting in the middle of the kitchen for you both to take seats at.

Watching him move, it's such a different feeling from the one that intimately, you've grown a bit accustomed to. You know well enough that people involved in kink and alternate lifestyles are just regular people, but suppose you find yourself never having been so involved with one.

Or rather, fooling around with one who also happens to be married to your best friend.

Oversized, brown sweater hanging off of broad shoulders and thin, round framed glasses, Doyoung perches himself onto one of the stools with a gentle clank of his glass against the cool marble beneath — elbow snug against the hard material and hand serving as a means to lean his temple against as he looks upon you.

It's a little bizarre, feeling him watch you in a way that doesn't feel sexual at all. In a way, you find, it might be the first time Doyoung has really paid you any attention at all beyond the irritating banter of your joint, non-intimate involvement.

Looking charmingly soft and domestic, it's hard to make sense of the man seated in front of you, and the man who asked you to spit on his dick a week ago.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Taking a small sip from your glass, you try to drink down with it the nervousness of being in his presence, but suppose, maybe just a normal conversation will help alleviate that much.

"Have you...told her?"

Stilling, as if not quite sure what it is that you're asking, Doyoung's eyes first pull away from you in some attempt to gather knowledge from elsewhere that he not quite have in front of him. "Yeah, she told you I would."

Thumbing at the rim of your glass, intentionally avoiding any and all eye contact with the man, you hum in response. "What does she think?"

Glancing up, you catch the sight of a grin taking the mans lips, tongue darting across his lower lip like he's finally cracked the case of what all of this is about — settling back into his position from just before with a wide, gummy smile that you're not all that used to seeing.

"She thinks it's hot, is that what you want to hear?"

Snorting at the reply, you shrug. "I don't know. I guess."

"If this is some juvenile way of asking if everyone on our end is okay with the way things are taking place thus far, then the answer is 'yes,'" he says with an annoyingly judgmental tone to his voice. "Everything good on your end?" He adds much to your surprise, popping your head up suddenly at the question.

"Uh," you begin, bashful at the thought of further acknowledging the goings on between the two of them at this current point in time. "Y-yeah, everything is good."

Answering you first with a nod as he sets the glass into the sink, the man carries on down the short hallway and out of the kitchen entirely.

"Well, I've got work to do. Mina'll be home in about a half an hour. Make yourself comfortable, you apparently live here, after all."

Frown on your face at the words and tightening the grip on the set of keys that most definitely go to this home — suppose it's a fair enough assessment.

  After a much later night than usual, with Mina in bed and keys of your own, it's simple enough to let yourself out.

Dimly lit hallways all of the way into the kitchen, it's on your way to sneaking out that you recall having left your dirty glass on the counter — and without giving Doyoung any more reasons to be a thorn in your side, obviously, it easier to be dealt with now. Easy enough.

Except that apparently this guy fucking lives in the kitchen.

Laptop propped up onto the same counter that the two of you shared your small chat earlier, the man watches you move slowly through the area — carefully reaching towards your glass and taking it into your hand as you slide it towards yourself and turn to set it precisely where it is that it belongs.

"Sorry," you whisper on your way past him again and towards the kitchen exit, before that familiar, strong hand finds itself looping around your wrist all over again.

You don't know if you can handle another night like the other two, however.

Pulling you into him with your back to his chest and still seated in place, you think it perhaps a good idea to have worn a cute little sun dress today.

That's not the only surprise you have in waiting, either.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders as the other slinks down to the inside of your thigh — you delight in the feeling of the man touching you, really touching you, for the first time. Delicate pads of his fingers feathering up slowly to the apex of your thighs, it's only due to the position of you against him in such a way that he feels the knocking of something hard against his wrist as he attempts to move closer to your vulva.

And it causes him to still completely.

Seconds of silence passing between you, nearly holding your breath at the anticipation of what's to come — you wonder if he'll choose to punish you for daring to go out on a limb and do such a thing, if punishment is even really something he would do — so many questions and possibilities, all more exciting than the last.

Slowly, you feel him lower his head down, mouth just next to your ear as the very same traveling hand pulls back to your behind and presses a finger right up against the exact thing causing the intrusion.

"Well, well, well," he whispers teasingly against your flesh. "Someone came over with expectations."

Already having opted out of verbally replying to him, he makes it easy with the ease in which he pushes you forward to give him space to stand — fingers pressed into the side of your neck from behind as he hurriedly urges you towards the darkened, least lit countertop in the kitchen.

It's a nice attention to detail: Not that the two of you have to sneak around, but pretending to makes it all that much more worth it.

Forcing your face and chest down and folding you over, Doyoung bunches the fabric of your dress up and over your ass just before diving by hand into the back of your panties for precisely the device that has him in such a mood.

"Who told you to wear this?" He asks with a gentle press against it. One finger extending down, he dips into your folds just ever so lightly before pulling back up with a chuckle under his breath. "You're so wet. Aren't you a little cockslut?"

The shift in Doyoung's demeanor this time hard to ignore, like a little bit of him lost in some sort of primal, animalistic lust to have you — it's precisely what you had been going for, after all.

Distinct sound of him hurriedly trying to pull himself from his jeans, met then with the feeling of long, deft fingers gently tugging your underwear down your legs — Doyoung pulls your hips up and out just enough before pressing your thighs closed together with his cock sandwiched in between and the plug in your ass on display for him as he continues gently pushing and pulling on it with ever shallow thrust of his hips against you.

It's excruciating, the promise of feeling him snug between your walls in only an inch or so of adjustment — head of his cock rutting gently against your swollen clit as he aimlessly fucks the wetness of your pussy from the outside — you regret the way that the quake of your thighs give away the fact that you may be able to come from this contact alone.

Slowing his movements against you with hands firmly pressed into the dip of your hips, Doyoung leans down and against you to whisper more torment into your ears.

"So close, baby," he huffs out. "You're so wet, could slide inside of you so easily — fuck you raw right here, would you like that?"

As if the knowing and the wanting wasn't enough, the talking always ending up as your ultimate downfall with the man.

You nod despite the way in which the side of your face lie against cold, unforgiving marble — looking back at him as he administers this particular punishment of the night. You're not sure if it's intended to be a punishment — of if any of it really is, but it certainly does feel that way.

Perhaps you're just a little bit too used to getting what you desire, with ease.

"Sort of want to," he says through gritted teeth, a certain tonal anger that you don't think you've heard from the man in your encounters before but that causes you to clench hard around nothing all the same. The promise of finally getting what you want to bad — the taking of what he wants and needs of you even in spite of himself. One hand sliding up your back and setting on the back of your neck again, he pulls his hips back just enough to position the tip of his length perfectly at your entrance — threatening all the while with shallow pokes to sheath himself inside of you once and for all.

"Fuck you stupid, have you babbling my name while I fuck you full of my load like the cum-hungry bitch that you are, that's what you want me to do, right?" Without giving you time to respond, you feel him pull hard enough on the plug embedded in your ass to remove it, tossing it into the sink only a little bit away. "Come over here with this in makes me act a little fucking crazy — but you haven't earned having me in your cunt just yet."

Hand swooping down from the small of your back and cradling instead his length as he positions the tip of himself at your well-prepped asshole — well enough lubricated from topically fucking your pussy, Doyoung presses himself inside of the tight cavern slowly with a bitten bottom lip and a forced back groan from his chest as he sinks inside of you as delicately as he can muster.

You're thankful enough for his attention, but it's not your first rodeo, and you prepped for a reason — pushing your hips back and against him as signal to carry on, he brings the hand back up and to your shoulder, leverage to pull you back with force and onto his cock with every following snap of his hips.

Truthfully, he feels fucking exquisite inside of you.

"Fuck, Doyoung—" you whine, only for one hand to swing around and over your mouth just as quickly as the words exit.

"Don't address me," he grits through drives of his hips into you — moans spilling out through his fingers all the same as if no hand there at all. "Don't talk, just take my cock like you're supposed to."

Nodding, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to come so badly and not knowing if you can get there untouched — tears threatening the corners of your eyes with every relentless yet heavenly drag of the mans cock inside of your ass — it's then that you feel the ghosting of fingers over your clit. A feeling so exciting to you now that you nearly bear down against them, to which, Doyoung chuckles at your neediness.

"Can't just come from my cock in your ass?" He whispers, the lewd sound of his hips meeting the flesh of your behind echoing through the otherwise empty bottom floor of the home. "How much do you think I'd have to rub you before you came all over my hand? Ten seconds?—"

The light, feathering of the tip of his fingering feeling nearly electric over your clit now, you moan out into the palm of his hand with eyes clamped shut. "—Five seconds?"

Breathing heavily through his hand as he continues his relentless drive into you from behind, pulling his hand away from between your legs you whine loudly against the flesh of him at the loss of yet another release, but instead, the hand around your mouth curling fingers between your lips as you happily and seductively suck around them like cock presented. Groaning at the sight, his other free hand traveling up the length of your torso and finding purchase against your breast as his thumb gently circles around the bud there — Doyoung leans down to curl his lips into a smile against your back at the sight of all of the ways that you're willing to fall apart for him.

"I think you can come without it."

Gently fucking his fingers into your mouth — simulating the presence of his length currently buried in your ass, also buried down your throat, with the additional stimulation of gentle tugs and flicks of his thumb against your nipple, pressing your thighs together tightly — you suspect that he might be right.

"God, look at you," he groans, slowing his hips to focus elsewhere as he watches the way you hungrily lap at his fingers. "You want to suck my cock so bad — have you always wanted it, baby?"

It's nearly involuntary, the moan that rips through you as the words leave his mouth.

Just shy of baby talking, condescending certainly, Doyoung pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your tongue as he shoves all of the way into your mouth to the best of his ability given the angle. "That why you act like that? Need me to fuck your face open, make you gag on it a little bit so you shut up?"

The words, with a particularly sharp snap of his hips, has your legs pressing in on themselves in just a way that you know with a little bit more movement, you can get there. Through tears brimming in your eyes, you manage out a desperate plea past the mans fingers — met with such a familiar sinister grin, Doyoung picks up the pace of his hips — harder and fuller with length against you as you nearly cry out around the fingers still dug in between your lips.

Digging a hand up from your chest and in your hair again, knuckles twisting into it hard as he chases his high, with a bit back groan he gazes down at you — standing tall and firm from behind you as you barely manage to meet eyes with him from your twisted position.

"Gonna come, baby?" He whispers through labored breaths as he teeters on the edge of release. "Want me to fuck my cum in your ass, don't you?"

"Yes, yes—" You chant at the promise of finally being able to come in the presence of the man. You're thankful when it's only two or three more stutters of his hips into you from behind before he releases into you — hot cum spilling into your hole as he shoves the full length of himself inside as he finishes. It's enough for you, thankfully, enough friction from the movement of him against you to have you barreling over the edge along with him with a shriek and a whine through his fingers as you come hard and long for the first time since you two have begun your rendezvous.

Chests heaving as the man gently pulls himself from you, you quickly bend down to pull your panties up to catch the mess of cum already immediately making its exit from your used, stretched open hole. Turning back around to face him as he effectively cages you in with arms on either side of the counter — the two of you make eye contact briefly before a gentle flushing of embarrassment washes over you and you're forced to pull away from the man that only seconds ago was inside of you.

"Try to remember to wash your dishes, would you? I can't do this every time."

Turning back suddenly, you playfully slap at his arm as he shimmies his jeans back up and around his hips.

Mixed drink and a slightly over-cooked quesadilla in front of you on the table of a busy, evening restaurant on your side of town — in the company of a handful of shared friends, Mina and her miserable husband, you can't help the pique in curiosity about the ins and outs of such an arrangement from inside of the marital home.

How much their relationship benefits from the retelling of such engagements with your best friends husband. How much their sex life benefits from it.

Watching from your peripheral — an attempt to not make it so obvious, how interested you are in the dichotomy of it — Mina and Doyoung playfully flirting and touching each other from across the table as if the man hadn't just sodomized you in their kitchen only a few days prior.

It turns you on even that much more. The mystery behind it.

"God—" An exasperated sigh from the man; black turtle neck and fitted black jeans just under the table as he sets his glass back down onto the table with a disgruntled scrunch of facial features adorning his face. "—This drink is terrible, I should say something."

Squinting, the pointless complaint pulls something from you. Such a typical, stuck up, rich guy thing to say.

"Drinks are two dollars here, what did you expect?"

"I don't care if it's two or twenty dollars, if I'm paying for it then it should at least be drinkable."

Eyes turning towards your friend seated next to you as she meets your gaze just the same, a swift kick across the way to her husbands shin has him rolling his eyes and jolting back in his chair. "Be good, Doie."

"Yes, dear."

"Can't take him anywhere," You whisper to your friend, well within earshot of the man, which of course only causes him to lean in and towards the both of you with an irritated frown. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

"Better than talking to you."

"Trust me," he sighs, leaning back into his seat again. "The feeling is more than mutual. I wonder everyday how you ended up with a key to our place."

 For whatever reason, that one stings in particular.

 Normally, dealing with Doyoung is something that you're used to — but tonight, there's a certain tone to him that you find hitting somewhere in your chest in a much different way. Not just banter, but perhaps a deeply personal disapproval of not only you, but your friendship with his wife.

It's not that you anticipated starting a sexual relationship with him to have fixed your dealings outside of it — quite the contrary, actually — but maybe enough was enough, now.

You've cum on my face, the least you could do is treat me with a basic level of respect.

 Napkin out of your hand and onto the table in a way that it's obvious of your displeasure, you stand suddenly and inform Mina of your departure to the bathroom. "Do you want me to come with you?" She of course offers, only for you to quickly dismiss it and assure her that you're fine as you carry yourself off and down the short hallway to the small, two-stall ladies room.

Leaned over the dirty, wet, black granite counter with both hands pressed into the edge, you look at yourself in the reflection — needing a moment to cool off, you're still relatively unsurprised when you don't receive it.

Cracking the door open, you watch from in front of you as the most insufferable man you've ever known slips inside to join you.

"You having fun?" He starts, already with intent to have a fight with you. "Have fun causing a scene?"

"Oh, I'm causing a scene!" You chime sarcastically, "not the guy who wants to complain about a two dollar drink not being up to par. Does it ever get exhausting? Being so fucking far up your own ass?"

Rushing towards you in an instant, Doyoung wraps a hand in your hair from behind — first pushing you forward with the momentum of it but just as quickly ripping you backwards and towards one of the empty stalls. Door slamming shut behind the both of you and just as quickly allowing the back of his shoulders fall to the wall, he works quickly at his belt as the sinister look in his eyes never once leaves your own.

You wonder how he has this kind of power — only seconds ago the most horrible man you could ever imagine being around, but now, watching him stare you down as he works to free his cock for you in this public bathroom — you realize that it's that precise mixture of things that makes his desirability so strong. Painfully so, as the throb between your legs already finds itself stirring up once again.

Barely pushed down his hips and freeing his hardening length, languid strokes over himself as he stands in front of you never once breaking eye contact for a second, you realize in humiliating silence that you're waiting for his command.

Of which, he quickly grants you: "Why don't you put that mouth to good use, for once."

Maybe if you hadn't been wanting it for so long already you'd be more willing to put up a bit of a fight, but finally being granted one of the things you've been dying for since the beginning of this endeavor with him — falling to your knees in the filth of this bathroom stall and immediately taking him into your hand with a long, enthusiastic swipe of your tongue up the bottom of his shaft — the low, breathy groan that it grants you reason enough to pull forward to take the head of his cock between your lips and swirl your tongue there, only to press down along his length for as far as you can before the tip of him threatens the back of your throat.

Unfortunately, it's not much of him that you can take before that happens.

Hand in your hair again as you've grown so familiar, you hear the sound of his head falling back against the granite before parting his lips to speak. "Gonna have to do a better job than that. How good can you be?"

You know what he's really asking.

Pulling you forward by your hair harder along his length, you struggle to accommodate him in your mouth, but it's not the first time you've done something like this — he's not asking too much of you — but it's sudden, and the burn against your throat something you're not used to feeling as your gag reflex begins to trigger and tears well up in your eyes at the struggle.

Doyoung pulls you back only slightly so that you can take a deep breath before bringing your mouth back along him. "Come on, you're gonna have to take it all, baby."

The words 'have to' immediately pooling between your legs, especially.

Gagging around him, the man moans through the sounds of you struggling to take his cock into your throat, he begins shallow, short thrusts against your mouth in an attempt to bring your nose flush with the skin of his pubic area, but with this not being something you've done often enough — there's part of you that wants to fight through it, because frankly, you've been fantasizing about this very moment since the very first night you tasted his cum from his fingers, anyways — but perhaps you should have practiced a bit more (or at all) at home in anticipation for this night.

You don't want to, but everyone has limits.

Three fast taps of your hand against his thigh, Doyoung immediately removes himself from your hair, allowing you to pull off from him just as quickly — coughing into the crook of your elbow as you attempt to regain oxygen into your lungs, you can't see much through the wetness gathered in your eyelashes, but you do hear the sound of him tucking himself away again before kneeling down to meet you on the floor.

"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

"No," you rasp out, sounding far more fucked and broken than you actually are, but rather, a physical result of the assault on your throat. Really, you're fine, just too much, too fast. "I'm okay, seriously, just couldn't yet."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Concern dripping from his voice — he's not touching you, purposely as to give you enough space from him, you shake your head with a chuckle as you bring your hand up to wipe the tears away from your eyes before making eye contact with him again.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong, I was a little too enthusiastic, I think."

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Chuckling again at the way that the man almost insists on handling you with kid gloves, you roll your eyes. "Yes, I'm not broken, I just can't deep throat seven inches of dick on a whim without a bit of practice."

"Aw," Doyoung coos, running a hand gently through your hair, before standing himself and helping you to your feet. "You think I'm seven inches. That's sweet."

Sniffling hard and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before straightening your clothing and dusting off your knees, you shoot the man a confused frown. "Bigger or smaller?"

Unlocking the stall door and motioning for you to exit, Doyoung offers you a simple wag of his index finger and a pompous grin before answering.

"A lady never tells. After you."

With weeks of fooling around with Kim Doyoung under your belt now, you find a certain level of trust and comfort established. Exemplified by his adhesion to boundaries and safe words at the drop of a hat, you can't help but recall the words that Mina had offered you so early on in the initial discussions of this foray into ethical non-monogamy.

'He's a good dom.'

Sure, you have a lot of criticisms of the man: That he's brash, boring, conceited, self-important and a whole other mess of ways to say that he's far from the kind of man you'd like to see yourself with at the end of the day, but one thing is for sure — safety, respect and trust are of the utmost importance to him.

Thinking back to that time in the bathroom — immediately unconcerned with the state of his erection in favor of the state of your well-being — sure, it sort of is the bare minimum when it comes to this sort of sexual play, but something to be celebrated, all the same.

So now, you may have an interest in rearranging some of the terms of your agreement.

  "Honey, I'm home!"

Annoyingly sing-song in a way that you know will irritate the man of the house but be effortlessly charming to the person that you're there to see — when met with silence, you're a bit disappointed. After all, playing house in spite of Doyoung's clear distaste for it has turned into one of your favorite past times.

Both the playing house, and the irritating him parts.

"Hello?" You ask again, listening to the way the words echo through the empty, lower-level of the home, only to eventually be met regretfully by the husband — apron-clad and wooden spoon in hand as he settles a straight-faced look upon you without offering anything for words.

Then, he turns back and into the kitchen from which he came.

A roll of the eyes, you set your bag down on a chair near the door, kicking your shoes off and following after him — eyes pulling towards the familiar countertop that you've more than become acquainted with as you circle around to the other side of the kitchen island to sit in the very same chair that the man had been seated in the last time that the two of you had your...engagements, here.

"So," you sigh. "When's Mina coming home?"

"She's not."

The words sort of send a chill down your spine, because the first thing that comes to mind is that the things that the two of you have been engaging in have now torn their relationship apart.

But, Mina was the one that told you to come over.

Glancing over his shoulder while perched over the stove — obvious horror splashed across your face, Doyoung laughs at the obvious line of thought in your mind. "She's on a business trip."

"Then, why did she tell me to come over?"

Halfway into turning his attention back to his cooking, he brings his head all the way back to look at you again: It's a look that says, "you know why, don't play dumb now."

He doesn't offer verbal confirmation, but you understand the jist of it well enough with just that. "Have you eaten?" He asks instead, to which you nod. "Yeah, had something on the way over."

It's sort of perfect, the way that the pieces fall together as Doyoung stands across from you at the very same island — a small bowl of soup being shoveled into his mouth with no particular haste as you watch him — gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, it's a cozy look that you're not all that used to seeing from him considering the majority of your involvement with him has been out and about.

You've been meaning to bring this up, anyways.

"I think—" you start quietly, picking at the skin around your fingernails lightly. The nervousness being the first thing that Doyoung notice as his eyes travel up from his empty bowl and towards your own, waiting for you to finish the thought.

"—I don't want to do this anymore. With you. It feels wrong. I can't do it anymore."

The layer of silence that falls across the atmosphere of the kitchen feeling so suffocatingly thick as you wait for his response — the man simply staring at you quietly through his eyelashes without even the slightest bit of movement until his lips part ever so lightly to speak.

"Color?"

And with confidence, you whisper back "green."

Squinting at you, you recall back having mentioned this to Mina in passing: the resistance kink. The desire to be 'taken,' to have a complete loss of control over the situation — participating in something so dirty, so wrong, and loving every second of it so much that you desperately wish for the morality of it to be out of your hands entirely. 'I want it, but wanting it is wrong. Only when stripped of the choice entirely is there true freedom to desire.'

And obviously, she passed it along to him, but the discussion not having happened in full means that now it's up to you to take matters of consent into your own hands.

But slowly raising from his slightly folded position, Doyoung brings his bowl to the sink, rinsing it out, and coming back to you in silence. The discomfort is poignant, so, now you have to ask.

"Color?" You slowly drop from dry lips, and without breaking his suffocating gaze on you, he whispers back pointedly "yellow."

The word exits his mouth quietly, smoothly, as if really trying to drive home to you how much this is not the way these things are supposed to work: Truth of the matter is that you know that, and this should have been discussed at length long before tonight — but you trust him to be able to make the adjustments, and worst case, to stop if you should need him to.

You're hopeful that he trusts you to do all of the same.

Then, he parts his lips to speak again. "—But, green."

It's his way of letting you know that you've gone about this all wrong, but all things considered, he's willing to roll with the punches, anyway. Jutting towards you, Doyoung wraps long fingers around your wrist, ripping you off of the stool and nearly knocking it to the floor as a result; tearing the apron from his waist as he roughly tugs you out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs and swings you around to press your back against the shining, platinum railing of the banister in the hallway.

"Why did you wear jeans?" He grunts as he drops to his knees in front of you, quickly pulling apart the button and zipper to roughly drag the tight fabric down your legs.

Frankly, you didn't know that you'd be doing this tonight.

Stepping out of them and shoved down the hallway to be sufficiently out of the way, the man hoists one of your legs up and over his shoulder — one hand digging fingers into the side of the crotch of your panties to grant him quick access to your already anticipatory pussy.

However, him being eye level with your cunt not particularly how you had expected this to go — ever, really.

Looking up at you from between your legs and through devilishly narrow eyes, the man makes one, simple, request: "Tell me about the dream."

Diving into your folds as his tongue presses flat and firm against your clit — the sudden feeling of him having you like this making you dizzy with want, you find yourself entirely unsure how you're expected to recount much of anything to him like this — and especially once he begins unrelenting suction to you that threatens to make you cum almost immediately.

Attempting to bite back your moan, and instead opting for a breathy 'fuck,'  you know well enough that if you don't adhere to the command, he'll most definitely stop.

"Y-you—" there's an attempt to speak at least, until two long, thin fingers bury into you to the last knuckles.

Pulling his mouth away from you and licking at his lips lewdly, he cocks his head to the side playfully. "Better start talking or I'll stop."

"God, okay," you exasperate as he dives back in. "Was...against the wall, you fucked me against the wall — we weren't—"

"Allowed?" He pauses again only long enough to finish your thought with a grin. Nodding quickly, Doyoung still slowly fucking into you with his fingers as he watches you fall apart from above him, he coos at the look and sound of you — perhaps finally coming to an understanding of what all of this is about.

"Good girl," he hums gently, lips brushing against your wet folds without much intent behind the contact. "Can you do me another favor?"

Breathy and already a little fucked out, you whisper out a "yes."

"Come on my mouth."

Leaning up and into you again, tongue firm into your clit with tight, intensive swirls — it doesn't take long for you to follow through as one hand falls down and wraps into his hair — holding him firm in place as you involuntarily grind down against his mouth as you come blindingly hard onto him. Long since needed and the orgasm from the night in the kitchen hardly offering the release you had been looking for — Doyoung lending his face to you in such a lewd, particularly out of character act of a blending of roles — as you come down slowly from your high, you watch the man pull away and out of you with a gentle ease, sucking his fingers clean of you before wiping his face with the back of his hand and standing tall in front of you.

 "Want to fuck your best friends husband, but don't want to be responsible for the repercussions of it, huh?"

 You just came, but the promise of getting exactly the fantasy that you wish for out of this throbbing between your legs pooling just as if you hadn't.

You don't even get to answer before the same, dominant hand is wrapped up in the hair at the back of your head and pushing you down the hallway, towards the bedroom.

Stumbling inside as he roughly pulls you around, once the both of you reach the edge of the bed, Doyoung sits you down just in front of him — not letting you free of his grasp, but instead with his other hand, freeing his growing erection from his pants and pulling your mouth against him harshly.

Of course, you take him in with ease.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth like this," he groans from above you, eyes glued to the place where he disappears inside of you. "Always knew you wanted me, that's why you always act like that, just need me to put you in your place, don't you?"

Moaning at the words and around his dick as he shallowly presses inside of your wet mouth, speed slowly picking up with each passing moment as he continues to talk you through it. "What are we going to do if my wife finds out? Suppose we just can't let that happen, can we?"

You hate the way the thought has you clenching down hard.

"That's why you're over here so much, isn't it?" Doyoung asks through gritted teeth as he continues fucking into your mouth, gently prodding at the back of your throat with each thrust. "Just begging for me to fuck your mouth? You love my cock, don't you?"

Pulling his length from you only long enough for you to answer back and breathy 'yes,' he sheaths himself inside all over again

Only a few more thrusts before grunting, Doyoung pulling himself from your mouth to fist over his cock and lined up with your face — you display your mouth open with tongue flat as he comes over your flesh again — warm, heavy ropes of himself painting your face and mouth before quickly angling your head down again to place his length between your lips for you to suck him clean, as well.

Holding your head back again and bringing his other hand up, thumb spreading the wetness of the act across your lips, chin and cheeks before shoveling most of it into your mouth as your lips close around his thumb to suck the digit clean just as you have with his cock — groaning into the look and sensation of it, Doyoung gently taps the inside of his fingers against your jaw, signaling for you to open your mouth all over again as he shoves two fingers in to swirl around the mixture of cum and spit collected there.

Slipping back and away from you, the command comes through simply. "Swallow."

You do so without question.

Wiping your mouth with your shoulder and taking in a heavy breath, you sigh out while looking up at him. "We can't ever let her find out about this?"

But glancing down at you with the most evil look in his eye, you watch as a single corner of his mouth gently pulls up,

 "You think I'm done with you?"

 It sends a tingle down your spine and straight to your pussy, Doyoung suddenly reaching forward to turn you around and bent over the bed as he pulls your soiled panties roughly to the side with a tear. Rubbing the head of his cock through your soaking slit and against your still sensitive clit, you grip hard into the sheets beneath you, attempting to pull away from him but to no avail as he grips fingers roughly into your hips to keep you precisely in place and displayed before him.

"Think you can take it all, baby?" He sighs, leisurely stroking himself back to full hardness as his tip slowly begins to split your pussy open from behind. "Can you be a good girl for me, take the whole thing?"

Whimpering against the mattress at the desperate, delicious burn of his cock finally entering you after so long — what feels like a lifetime of desiring having him buried inside of your walls, finally being granted to you with slow, almost delirious ease as he sinks into you from the back, you answer him honestly. "N-no."

"I don't think so, either," he responds with a comfortable ease as he continues with his initial stroke. "But you're going to try, aren't you? Not used to taking such a big dick?"

"No, fuck, Doyoung—"

"God you want this so bad, already so fucked out on my dick and I'm not even inside all of the way," gently pulling his hips back only to rock back inside, even such a simple movement granting him a cry out from between your dry lips. Leaning forward and over your back to plant a hand down between your shoulders and holding you in place, Doyoung repeats the action again to elicit the same response from you all over again.

"Oh, you love a big cock," he grits out through his teeth as he finally settles into a rhythmic pace against your behind. "You love my cock. Say you didn't want to do this, didn't want to go through with this, but I don't think that's true at all, is it?"

Pulling out far enough for only the tip of him to remain inside of you before drilling back hard into your cunt, you nearly cry at the unrelenting pressure of him against your walls, and in particular, against your g-spot. Thighs trembling and stomach tightening with every full, hard drive of himself into you, it's an attempt to form a full thought but instead, the words come out as only babbled sobs as he drives hard and firm into you.

"Do-Doyoung, fuck, 'm gonna, 'm—p-please, please, fuck—"

"You gonna come, baby?" The question comes through with hastened, airy breaths as if close himself. "Come around my dick for me? Wanna earn my cum?"

Nodding fast against the mattress, he grunts into a particularly hard thrust against you. "Make your lil cunt so messy."

Pulling himself back up into a straighter, standing position at the edge of the bed, fingers firmly dug into the flesh of your waist as he pulls you back hard onto his cock — the sudden angle change toppling you over into your orgasm unexpectedly as you cry out for him and curl your own nails into the sheets beneath you as your release rips through your body — simultaneously, Doyoung falling victim to the way your pussy clenches down around his length, fucking you roughly through your orgasm as he reaches his own with bit back, throaty moan at the way your cunt nearly milks his cum from him with little movement and so much ease — burying himself so deep into your guts that it threatens to hurt and whining at the near pain of having him so fully inside of you as he coats your walls.

Chests rising and falling, Doyoung pulls from you and falling next to you, it's much to your surprise when familiar hands tug you to the side and seated over his hips.

 "Split yourself open on my cock and come again."

 The words themselves nearly enough to do you in, but with the unrelenting throb of your untouched clit impossible to ignore, you follow the command as you position your hips over his impressively hard length and wasting no time burying him inside of your messy, cummed-in cunt all over again.

Leaning back ever so slightly and quickly rubbing circles into your clit for his viewing pleasure as he pulls the sweatshirt still clinging to his chest up to expose more skin of his abs and chest — reaching your free hand down, you touch over the skin there, feeling more of him and the way his abs reach to not only your touch, but the visual just in front of him.

"Fuck," you whimper, already feeling the threat of another orgasm building as your walls squeeze tightly around his seated shaft. "Fuck, Doie—"

The pet name.

"God, don't call me that, I'll come in your little pussy all over again," he nearly whines through an exhausted chuckle. It's a sort of endearing, almost break in character that you're not used to seeing from the man.

"Come on baby, be a good girl and come for me," he starts again with a fucked out whisper as he watches you twist circles into your pussy just above where his length disappears inside of you. "Show me just how bad you wanted me inside of you."

Toes curling and teeth gritting as it washes over you all over again — a nearly silent scream of an orgasm as your mouth hangs open through your release — a similar, quiet groan from the man beneath you as he watches and feels you come on him for the third time tonight.

 He takes his jobs very seriously.

 Giving you a moment to calm before heaving you off of him and standing in front of you again, as you sit up to meet his dick with your lips just as before, you can't help but be seriously impressed by his ability to maintain an erection.

You're beginning to understand why Mina married him, after all.

"Clean me up," he commands, hand gently weaved into the back of your head in such a familiar way. "Enjoy it while you can, it's the last time you'll get to taste me."

True as it is, you find yourself surprisingly somber at the thought of this being the end of the arrangement, as agreed upon. Far from an emotional connection, but rather, a mental one — a mutual understanding between physical lovers. The trust, the communication, and safety inherent in this particular pairing of people.

Plus, his cock is perfect and he fucks like a pornstar.

Licking up the length of his shaft, truly savoring the taste of his cum and your own mixed along it before taking him deep into your mouth and bobbing slowly, carefully, full of intent along his cock — partially for the show of it, and partially because yes, it's the last time, and you'll miss this more than you might have thought you would going in.

"You're amazing," Doyoung sighs, gently pulling his length from between your lips and folding over just enough to be only a few centimeters off from your own face with his. "Open."

Obeying the command and jaw falling slack, the man allowing the collection of saliva from his mouth to drip lewdly into your own — missing direction ever so slightly and catching partially at the corner of your mouth — Doyoung brings a hand up to thumb at the messy corner before finally closing the distance between both of your mouths and pulling you into a full, intense, passionate kiss — tongue immediately pushing forward to lick at the inside of your mouth — it's breathtaking and intimate in a way that nothing else thus far has been.

And pulling away with a single, thin, string of saliva connecting the two of you by mouth yet, Doyoung's lips curl into a sinister grin as his eyes pull from your own, to your lips, then back up to meet your vision again.

 "Happy to help."

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—part 2!

[thatfandomslut]

I'm Mad At You For Leaving Me

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: arguing details, car accident, reader passing away

Request:

Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 25 and piece of chocolate number 5. Or: “I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental—like on a breeze—but I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there’s anything you need, I won’t be far away.” w/ arguing

Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.

Regina was one of the last people to leave the funeral, her arms crossed as she cursed the tears that were cascading down her cheeks. She hated (Y/n). She hated her cute smile that made her eyes crinkle in the corners. She hated the way her laugh always seemed to make the room light up. She hated the way that she was in love with her. She hated the way that their last conversation was an argument over college. She hated the way that (Y/n) had died before they could resolve it. And, she hated that it was all her fault.

"I mean, damn, Regina." (Y/n) walked out of the George's mansion with hot tears burning in her eyes. Regina wasn't far behind, her face red in anger as she followed the girl out. "You should be happy for me. I got into fucking Harvard! That's a big deal! Instead, you're upset because we're going to different colleges. I get why you're angry, I just thought that instead of yelling and blowing my dreams off, we could discuss our futures. But, now, I don't even think we fucking have one."

Regina rolled her eyes as (Y/n) swung open her car door. Before (Y/n) could she held it open. "I thought our future was going to be something we both decided. You didn't even tell me you fucking applied. You're angry at me for not being happy but how could I when you did this behind my fucking back, (Y/n)? That fucking hurts, and if you don't see what you did wrong, then that's on you. Not on me." Regina moved, slamming the door for (Y/n). She didn't want to hear it anymore. She didn't care anymore over (Y/n)'s dreams whenever she ruined their plans.

A part of her felt bad at the moment over how she made that excited grin of (Y/n)'s disappear in seconds. Now, a bigger part of her felt horrible for making (Y/n) cry. Especially now that she was crying in her last moments. She remembered calling over and over again that night, trying to reach (Y/n) and apologize. Eventually, Regina's mom came upstairs to tell Regina that she had talked to (Y/n)'s. That was the night that Regina learned that (Y/n) had gotten into a car accident and she didn't make it. She learned that a drunk driver had hit her. Regina felt at fault regardless since (Y/n) never would have been out at that time if it wasn't for their argument.

Now, she was standing at (Y/n)'s grave, angry at her instead of herself. "You ruined our future the other night. Then you fucking drove off. I'm mad at you for leaving me." Regina stated bitterly before a sob escaped her lips. "I'm sorry… I just want you to come back. This is all my fault, but I still want to blame you. I feel like a shitty person. I am a shitty person." Regina cried, feeling her body shake.

Death was inevitable, but she never expected that someday soon she would have lost the love of her life to death's hands. She had always imagined them growing old together. They were supposed to grow old together. She should have been happy that (Y/n) got into Harvard. She knew that getting into Harvard was (Y/n)'s childhood dream, but she thought her dreams changed. Regina now realized that they only changed to align with hers and that that was never fair to (Y/n). Everything that had happened from the argument to the car crash to now was Regina's fault. Or, that's how she felt, anyway.

Her friends had told her it wasn't. They told her that (Y/n) wouldn't want her to blame herself. She knew they were right, but how the fuck would they know? They reminded Regina that she couldn't have known any of this would happen. Cady said that none of this was intentional or caused by Regina. Still, too much guilt bubbled in Regina's stomach for her to agree. She was starting to feel nauseous as placed the flowers on the fresh patch of dirt she had been standing on. Her hands continued to shake as she felt like she needed to take all of the blame.

"I guess I need to say goodbye now, but I don't even know how. You were absolutely everything to me. I always felt that we were destined to be together, but I never told you that because you already thought I was soft. I couldn't just confirm your suspicions. I only had this soft spot for you." Regina smiled a bit at the thought, noting the little quote at the bottom of (Y/n)'s headstone. “I don’t know if we each have a destiny, or if we’re all just floating around accidental—like on a breeze—but I think maybe it’s both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, (Y/n). If there’s anything you need, I won’t be far away."

Regina was going to say it, she was going to say 'goodbye' but she couldn't. Her lips trembled as her mouth went dry. A lump formed in her throat as she stared at the quote a little longer. "I can't tell you goodbye. I will say that I'll always miss you and that I will always come back here. I love you, and I promise you that I will visit on all of our anniversaries and every time I visit." Regina promised, leaning down to place a kiss on the headstone. She felt stupid doing it, but that's all she could think to do at that moment.

As she left, the quote rang in her mind. 'May I see you again in a new life.' It was something that (Y/n) said a lot. Her grandfather firmly believed in reincarnation and soulmates, and so did (Y/n). So, she constantly believed that she would meet everyone in new lives and relive all of those beautiful friendships again. Regina now forced herself to believe that because she didn't believe that she could live a life without (Y/n) somewhere in it.

[magicfootballstuff]

Debut (alessia russo x reader)

Summary: You’ve dreamed of making your WSL debut for years. But when the day finally arrives, it’s not how you imagined at all. The one person who should be celebrating the big moment with you, your girlfriend Alessia, won’t even look you in the eye.

———

Today should be the best day of your life. As you stand in the tunnel at Leigh Sports Village behind Katie, about to walk onto the pitch to make your Women’s Super League debut, you should be brimming with mixed excitement and nerves.

Your debut has come as a bit of a surprise. Playing as the number two to the best goalkeeper in the world, you’ve got a couple of cup games under your belt, but you’ve not yet been given any minutes in the league. In fact, today wasn’t even supposed to be your league debut, and wouldn’t have been if Mary hadn’t fallen ill at the last minute, forcing Marc to call you up to the starting lineup with just over an hour to go before kickoff.

Maybe that’s why the excitement hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe you haven’t yet processed that this is happening.

Or maybe it’s because you had the mother of all arguments with your girlfriend last night and that’s playing on your mind instead.

You don’t even remember how the argument started. You might have left something lying around in a place it didn’t belong, or moved something of Alessia’s, or something else completely trivial, but bickering turned into fighting which turned into yelling and crying, which eventually led to Alessia storming out of your shared flat and not returning.

You assume she slept at Ella’s. You don’t care though. If Alessia wants to be childish and run away instead of working through the bumps in your relationship like grown-ups, then that’s her problem.

You should be celebrating today with her though. Your first league game for Manchester United - she knows how hard you work in training, how many hours you spend analysing world-class keepers to improve your own positioning, how much you’ve dreamed of today. Yet she hasn’t even made eye contact with you since Marc announced the starting lineup.

She’s behind you somewhere. You can hear her laughing along with Ella. Like she doesn’t care that she hurt you last night. Like she doesn’t care that you’re about to play the most important ninety minutes of your career so far.

If that’s how she wants it to be, then fuck her. You won’t let Alessia and her childish antics ruin your big day.

“You ready?” Ona’s accented voice asks, as she rests her hands encouragingly on your shoulders from behind.

In front of you, Katie turns around and gives you a reassuring smile, then says, “You’ve got this.”

You smile your thanks to Katie and briefly cover one of Ona’s hands with your own gloved one in appreciation. It should be Alessia supporting you right now, not them, but you’re glad that at least some of your teammates understand what a big moment this is and have your back.

As you follow Katie down the tunnel and onto the pitch, the reality of the situation starts to kick in, and so do the nerves. There’s a crowd of seven thousand people here, each one watching you and expecting you to represent their club. You can’t let them down. You can’t let yourself down.

In an ideal situation, you probably would’ve made your league debut against a mid-to-low table team, a confidence builder where making a mistake or two probably wouldn’t cost you the game. As it is, playing against Chelsea, you know you’re going to be tested all game and that even the tiniest slip-up could be the crucial difference between winning and losing not just the game, but the title.

Sure enough, you get your first touch of the ball less than two minutes after kick off, a tame shot from distance that you follow with your eyes all the way to you, not testing you too much as you catch it simply against your chest, before rolling it out to Maya to start the next phase of play.

It continues much like that. The game is intense at both ends of the pitch, two title rivals battling against each other, and you’re forced into a few more saves, though none of them are particularly difficult. Even so, when you head in at halftime goalless, it’s with a sense of relief that you haven’t let the team down yet.

You remove your gloves in the dressing room to take on fluids, accepting congratulations from a few of your teammates on a solid first half with a grateful smile. But when you sit down to listen to Marc’s halftime team talk, it’s only Alessia on your mind, and you zone out slightly from his words as you watch her across the dressing room. 

If Alessia feels your gaze on her, then she doesn’t acknowledge it. Maybe she really is that engrossed in what Marc has to say, maybe she’s just trying to spite you. But what remains when you return to the pitch for the second half is that the one person you want to reassure you that you’re doing a good job still won’t even make eye contact with you.

The second half kicks off with heightened intensity, just as you expected. Manchester United get the first chance, a shot from Ella that ricochets off the crossbar before Leah taps the rebound wide, but Chelsea have come out with just as much intent to assert their dominance on the game. Within just five minutes, they’ve won a corner and almost all of the red shirts on the pitch are crowded into your box to help defend your goal.

The ball is launched from the corner into the box and it’s a bit of a mad scramble. A United player tries to clear but only as far as the edge of the box, where it lands at the feet of an unmarked Chelsea player. They take their chance and fire the ball through the crowd of players towards the bottom corner of your goal.

An instinctive reflex you’ve spent your entire life preparing for kicks in and you dive to the side, just barely glancing the ball past the goalpost with the tips of your fingers out for another corner.

Frustrated with the poor defending, you get to your feet as Chelsea set up for a second corner, and bellow at your teammates, “Mark your players!” 

What they do on the rest of the pitch is something you have very little control over, but the box is your domain and if you have to shout at them to get them to do the bare minimum amount of defending, so be it. You assess your area as the Chelsea player sets the ball down by the corner flag, and you spot a blue shirt unmarked near the back post.

“Alessia!” you bark at your girlfriend to get her attention. Her stunning blue eyes find yours and your gesture with your gloved hand at the unmarked Chelsea player as you yell, “Stick with your fucking player!”

Yelling at each other on the pitch isn’t a complete novelty - there’s a mutual understanding between all the Manchester United players that any harsh words said on the pitch are for the benefit of the team, and though you and Alessia haven’t actually played many games together, you both know how to leave anything that happens on the pitch behind for the sake of your relationship.

Until today, you’ve never had to do the reverse. Though shouting and swearing at Alessia during a match would be fine on any other day, when you know it’ll be completely forgotten when the final whistle blows, your demand feels a hundred times more scathing when you remember the argument you had last night that still hasn’t been resolved. 

There’s the briefest of glares in Alessia’s eyes, but she’s not petty enough to risk conceding a goal just because you’ve fallen out, so she does as instructed and moves closer to the other player, positioning herself between the Chelsea player and your goal.

The ball flies in and you launch yourself in the air, fist outstretched as you try to punch it away, but it’s too high and you miss it completely. As you tumble to the grass, you see the ball soar almost in slow motion towards the previously unmarked Chelsea player. It’s Sam Kerr and you know she’s going to score, you know that your chance of a clean sheet on your league debut is going to get snatched away by the most ruthless striker in the WSL.

But then you see somebody else, a hero in red, throw herself at the ball too. Alessia has spotted the danger and she uses her height to her advantage, her head hitting the ball at the same time as Kerr’s. It’s just enough to stop the ball heading towards the goal, and though you don’t know exactly what happens next as you scramble to your feet, too many bodies trying to nudge the ball in opposite directions, a Manchester United foot eventually gets a clean enough connection to smash the ball out of the box and away from immediate danger.

And just like there are things that stay on the pitch, there are things that stay at home.

“Good job, Less,” you praise her, clapping Alessia on the back with a gloved hand.

There’s stuff that needs resolving off the pitch later, but Alessia has just kept your hopes of a clean sheet alive and more than deserves your praise for that. Her eyes soften a little as you revert back to using her nickname, before she jogs away back to her normal position in United’s forward line.

Things are far from back to normal but there’s comfort in knowing that whatever has come between you and Alessia in the last twenty four hours - and to be honest, you’re struggling to remember if it was even worth the raised voices and the frosty atmosphere between you today - you can still count on her on the pitch when you need her. You mind somewhat at ease, at least until the final whistle blows and you’re free to actually talk to your girlfriend, you’re one hundred percent focused on the task of keeping a clean sheet to help your team.

But if you’d thought the back-to-back corners earlier in the second half were a problem, nothing could have prepared you for what happens in the eightieth minute.

It’s getting desperate from both sides. Legs are tiring, challenges are flying in, cards are being shown by the referee. The football is becoming sloppier, each team fighting for that singular moment of brilliance or luck that could win them the game. As United win a corner at the other end of the field, they send almost everybody up to get on the end of it, leaving just you and a singular defender in your own half. There are so many bodies in the opposition box that from your vantage point at the edge of your own area, you don’t have a clear view of what’s going on, but you watch as Katie sends the ball flying in. Desperation sets in as the United players try to knock it into the Chelsea goal, then somebody goes down and you hear cries for a penalty, but as the referee waves the claims away, a Chelsea player manages to send the ball forward and suddenly they’re on a break.

You backpedal towards your own goal, covering the net, but a feeling of dread rises in your stomach as the Chelsea player drives the ball forward. She’s a substitute who has only been on the pitch for ten minutes, fresh legs outrunning the final United defender and now you’re the only one left between her and an inevitable goal.

One-on-one with the Chelsea striker, you have just a split second to decide what to do. If you stay on your line, the player has a choice of which corner to slot it into. If you run towards her, you risk getting chipped or dribbled around. Part of being a keeper is making decisions but right now every choice feels like it might be the wrong one that costs your team the game. 

Instinct takes over and you leave your line, arms held out as you rush towards the oncoming striker and try to be as much of a distraction as possible. As you get closer, you do the only thing you can and slide in for the ball, trying to smother it with your outstretched gloves. 

But this is Chelsea and the striker anticipates your move, attempting to lift the ball over your grounded body. Your defenders are rushing back to help you but they’re too late, you’re the only one who can stop an otherwise inevitable goal and as you flail almost helplessly on the ground, the ball hits your forearm and changes course.

You don’t know where the ball has gone and you don’t get the chance to find out because the momentum of the Chelsea striker sends her clattering into you, a knee connecting with your ribs and she trips over you and falls to the floor too.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with pain. You know you should be more concerned with where the ball has gone - it’s your sole duty to stop it from hitting the back of the net and it could have gone anywhere off your arm - but there’s an excruciating pain in the side of your chest where you collided with your opponent. 

You can’t do anything except lie there on the grass, curled onto the side that isn’t splitting in half with pain. You’re not aware of much around you, just unintelligible voices and somebody rolling you onto your back. Everything is swimming, indistinct sounds and shapes, until one piece of familiarity cuts through the blur as a hand finds yours.

You let your eyes flicker open and there are three people crouching over you, but you only have eyes for the one dressed in red, Alessia frowning down at you in concern as she clutches your hand and brings you back to your surroundings.

“Hurts,” you manage to grunt out.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” Alessia soothes you, squeezing your hand. “I’ve got you.”

“Where does it hurt?” asks one of the physios kneeling beside you.

“Here,” you say, attempting to gesture to the side of your chest, but even that small action incites a sharp pang of pain.

The two physios start their examination of you, probing gently around the painful area, and as you become more aware of your surroundings, you remember that you’re lying in the middle of a football pitch, with twenty-one other players, a referee, and a crowd of several thousand waiting for you to get up so that the game can resume.

“Did they score?” you ask Alessia.

“No,” she tells you, shaking her head with a little smile. “You stopped it from happening. You did so good.”

“I can carry on,” you try to tell the physios. “There’s only ten minutes left. I can finish the game.”

Just as you say that, the latex glove covered fingers of the physio traces along your ribcage, and you wince as it grazes over a sore spot.

“She needs to come off,” the physio tells Alessia, before beckoning over to the bench. You see the medics start to enter the pitch with a stretcher and immediately start your protests.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, trying to push yourself up into a seated position, but there’s another stab of pain in your side and you collapse back into the grass, crushing Alessia’s hand in yours.

“You’re not fine,” Alessia tells you. “They’re right, you need to go off.”

“But…” you start, thinking of Mary, who was sent home to get better, and of the academy goalkeeper who will have to come on if you get subbed off with even less preparation than you had.

“But nothing,” Alessia interjects. “You’ve done your job. You’ve kept us in this game for eighty minutes. Trust us to take care of the rest. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

There’s a look in Alessia’s eyes, a searching glint, and you know that she’s not just talking about Manchester United and the rest of this game, but your relationship. She’s asking you to trust her, promising that she’s got your back, even if it might have seemed like she didn’t have it earlier. 

And because you love her, despite all the profanities that were yelled at each other last night, you believe her.

“Yeah,” you nod, as you allow the medics to help you onto the stretcher. “We’re a team.”

———

You’re sitting up in a hospital bed a couple of hours later, eating a yoghurt that one of the nurses brought for you, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

It’s Alessia, still dressed in her Manchester United training kit that she must have changed into after the game, and you nod to show her that she’s welcome to come in.

“Hi baby,” she says, still lingering in the doorway, with a softness to her voice like you didn’t fight last night, like you haven’t spent the whole day not talking to each other. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit, finishing the last spoonful of yoghurt and setting aside the now empty pot. “Two fractured ribs. No football for a few weeks, maybe longer, depending on how it heals.”

“I guess you’re gonna need someone to look after you at home,” Alessia jokes.

There’s still something not quite right, a wedge of awkwardness between you, and you know it’s time to settle the disagreement that has made the last twenty four hours pure hell instead of the league debut you’d always dreamed of.

“Does that mean you’re coming home again?” you ask.

Alessia laughs as if the question is ridiculous.

“Of course I’m coming home.”

“Because I’m injured and you feel sorry for me, or because you actually want to?” you can’t help but have a little jab.

“I want to,” Alessia says, fully stepping into the room and taking a seat in the chair beside your bed. She reaches for your hand and you let her toy with your fingers as she continues, “I hate how we left things last night.”

“How you left things,” you remind her. “You’re the one who left.”

“And I’m sorry for that,” Alessia apologises, and you can see the sincerity in her blue eyes. “I needed some space so I ran away, which was stupid and childish of me. And I was still fuming this morning so I decided it was best to leave it and talk after the match, but then you got called into the lineup and we still hadn’t fixed things and then you were just lying there injured and barely moving and I’ve never felt so helpless. If I could take away all the pain you’ve felt in the last twenty four hours, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You know that Alessia’s not just talking about the physical pain of your injury, but the hurt that she caused you in your fight and its aftermath too.

If you’re being fair, you probably hurt her too. You both said things that you wouldn’t normally say in last night’s argument.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, flipping your hand palm up and letting Alessia slide her fingers in between your own. “I think we both got caught in the heat of the moment. What were we even fighting about?”

Alessia laughs as she exhales, then says, “I don’t even remember. Something stupid. Something not worth me running away. I don’t want to fight with you again.”

“Look, we’re gonna fight,” you point out. “That’s part of being in a relationship. It’s not going to be easy all the time. But we can definitely be better at communicating.”

“I know,” Alessia nods. “That’s on me. I’ll try to work on it.”

“It’s on both of us,” you reassure her. “But thank you.”

A third person enters the room and you glance up to see one of the nurses who has been looking after you, middle-aged with a kind smile and a lilting Scottish accent.

“You must be the girlfriend,” says the nurse, addressing Alessia as she takes a piece of paper out of the file she brought with her into the room and jots something down.

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll tell you the same thing I told her,” the nurse continues, her tone motherly but with just a hint of sternness. “She needs to take it easy while her ribs heal. No physical activity.” She gives Alessia a pointed look, then adds, “Of any kind.”

Alessia’s cheeks flush slightly at the implication, but she nods and says, “I understand.”

“Make up sex is off the cards then,” you joke under your breath.

You’re clearly not quiet enough because it’s not just Alessia who hears you, but the nurse too, who sends you a look of warning that has you sinking back into your pillows in shame.

“I’ve had enough athletes come through these doors to know exactly what you lot are like. I know you hate sitting still but you need to heal.”

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Alessia promises the nurse. She turns to you, then adds, “Anyway, the better you follow the nurse’s instructions, the sooner you’ll be back playing football.”

“Exactly,” the nurse agrees.

“Did she tell you that she kept a clean sheet today?” Alessia asks the nurse, a hint of pride in her voice.

“She did, aye. Almost makes a couple of fractured ribs worth it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, Alessia scored the winning goal, so she’s the real hero of the day,” you shrug modestly.

One of the first things you did while waiting to have your ribs x-rayed was to check the score to see how the last ten minutes of the game panned out. Your main concern, of course, had been the clean sheet that you put your body on the line to preserve, and you were relieved to see that the academy keeper who took your place didn’t let any goals past her either. But you’d almost given up hope that United would score, which made it a delightful surprise that of all people, Alessia was the one to slot a winning goal into the Chelsea net in the eighty-seventh minute.

“It sounds like you can both share the credit today,” the nurse says diplomatically, as she clears away your empty yoghurt pot. “A good partnership in more ways than one.”

You look at your hand joined with Alessia’s, then up at the adoring look in her blue eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree. “The best.”

[bitchyycapricorn]

The Girl in the Mirror

Tony Stark x Insecure!Reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.5k

Synopsis: Tony plans a whole night for you, hoping to pop the big question at the end of the night. Trouble arises when an old high school friend has something to say about your appearance.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, body insecurity, body shaming, cursing.

Request by: @lilacprincessofrecovery

AN: not edited

Your eyes lock on the figure standing in front of you in the mirror. Her eyes are beautiful, and her hair falls perfectly, capturing a special kind of beauty. She looks graceful and elegant in her red dress. The dress that synchs in at the waist and cascades out around her feet into a pretty train. The dress that’s top compliments her chest, while the slit in the leg adds a scandalous touch. You find yourself distant from the woman who stares back at you, barley aware that she is you. The only notable aspect that gives it away and seems to repeatedly capture your attention is her stomach. Your stomach. You stare at the way the dress lays over it, hating it in a thousand different ways. The sight alone put a bad taste in your mouth and makes you want to disappear right there and then.

You feel shame and embarrassment beginning to bubble up in your stomach, making you want to throw up on your designer dress. How was it that someone like you could make it somewhere like here. Living in a modern day palace with the most stunning man to walk the earth. Knowing that you look like this: an out of place and disgusting thing. An abomination to all beauty standards. You think this as your eyes train back to your stomach.

A knock on the door puts you out of your haze, drawing you back to a bittersweet reality. You’re about to attend a grand ball in your honor, one being put on by your boyfriend of almost four years. This is suppose to be a happy and unforgettable moment, yet the sight of yourself makes you feel as though you’ll ruin the whole event by just attending.

“Sweetheart we’re going to be late, we have to get go-“ Tony cut himself short at the site of your figure lingering in front of the mirror. Sometimes he has a hard time convincing himself that you were in fact from earth, not another planet where beautiful goddesses roam. Everything about you is just breathtaking. Your silhouette alone is enough to put every man and woman on earth to shame in Tony’s eyes. After all, you were his woman and his woman alone.

You lift your gaze to meet Tony’s in the mirror, embarrassment flowing through your flushed body. “Why are you staring at me like that?” You speak.

Tony purses his lips before giving a wide smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be looking at you like that? You look ravishing my dear.” He hums as he approaches your stiff body.

“I look like an inflated hot air balloon Tony,” you huff, hating the way you look even more than you did just five minutes ago.

“If you’re a hot air balloon, than I want to be a passenger,” He snickers, placing his hands on your waist.

You raise an eyebrow at Tony, thrown off at his response. “What?” You laugh.

Tony huffs, realizing you did not get the joke. “You know, because I want to get inside yo-“

“Tony!” You shriek, forgetting all about your previous dilemma and now focusing on your boyfriend who looks as handsome as ever.

“Y/N!” Tony shrieks back jokingly. You let out a small laugh, relaxing in his presence. “You look beautiful tonight darling,” he says as he pulls you into a warm embrace.

You feel your stomach starting to twist again, already bring back the feelings of dread and anguish towards the way your body looks in a dress that hugs your figure. “Tony…” you whisper softly, “I feel awful.” Your voice quivers as you open up about the thoughts that have been drowning you since you slipped the stunning red dress on. “I feel so out of place, I just wish I could disappear.” You murmur.

Tony frowns at your words, taking in your appearance once more before speaking. “Y/N, you look absolutely stunning tonight, and don’t you dare think or say otherwise. Every time I see you my breath is taken away by your beauty. You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever had the honor of laying my eyes on.” Tony whispers as he spins you around slowly, drinking up your perfect body.

“But Tony, look at me, I’m-I’m” you stutter.

“Y/N, I know you feel that way and I’m so sorry. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. How perfect and lovely you are.” He hums as he pulls your body into his. “You are the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth my love,”

“Promise?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.” His lips were on yours just seconds later, savoring your sweet taste. He kisses you for what feels like forever, yet somehow forever isn’t long enough, because when he does pull away you find yourself missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “Come on, we have a ball to attend.”

+++

You find yourself swaying in Tony’s arms to the loud music that’s blaring from the large speakers placed all around the room. Tony had been sweeping you off your feet since you got to the ball, never once leaving your side. He made it a habit to whisper small praises and words of affirmation into your ear as the night progresses, refusing to let you forget just how perfect you are.

You were about two hours into the dance and everything seemed to be going well, that is until Tony goes to get punch and you overhear him talking to an old friend from school.

“She’s got a pretty face man but her body? You definitely could’ve done better in that department. I mean, she must have a great personality or something.” The man snickers as he looks you up and down.

Tony’s face begins to heat up with rage, his blood boiling at the mere mention of you being anything less than perfect. “I’ll have you know her body is the definition of perfection.” He growls, grip tightening on the glass in his hand. “Honestly, you have no right to even be looking at my girlfriends body. Let alone speaking about it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

“Oh come on man, you know I’m right. She’s just a bit..big. She could stand to lose a few, or hell even a lot of pounds.” Tony’s ‘friend’ chuckles.

“Big? As if you would even know what ‘big’ is. Clearly you’ve never seen anything big on your own body.” Tony shoots back, glancing over at your now embarrassed and ashamed face. “Listen here. My girlfriend’s body, size, literally any of my girlfriend and soon to be wife, is none of your fucking business. So how about you turn around and walk your sorry ass out of here before I do it for you.”

The man’s eyes go wide, not expecting that Tony would actually stand up for you. Not when there were, in his opinion, much hotter girls wandering around in much skimpier dresses. “Come on man, don’t be like that.” he finally says, looking nervously at Tony.

You could feel your face heat up, both from becoming Tony’s wife, but also from the way his ‘friend’ was speaking about you. “I’m not messing around, you leave on your own free will, or, I escort you out.” Tony was trying to keep his calm, but he was slowly losing patience with the incel that stands before him. “Actually, no. You don’t even deserve the chance to peacefully leave. Not after the shit you just said about my girlfriend.” Tony looks up, locking eyes with one of his security staff. With a quick motion of his hand the man was getting dragged out the building. Everyone pauses for a moment, unsure on whether they should continue dancing and chatting.

You were quick to make your way over to Tony, picking up your dress up off the floor so you wouldn’t trip over it. “Tony, what was that?” You whisper quietly, not liking the sudden attention.

Tony on the other hand thought this a perfect moment to make a statement. Putting his foot down once and for all. Getting down on one knee, Tony began to speak. “Y/N, listen, I know that I am a mess. And I know that you also think I’m a mess who can’t keep up with his responsibilities and who doesn’t know when to quit. But you keep me on track darling, you keep me grounded and out of trouble. I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. I want to give you everything, because you are everything. Y/N L/N, you are the most beautiful, most amazing woman I have ever met, will you marry me?”

You let out a small gasp, hand flying to your mouth. “Tony I- yes! Yes Tony yes!” You breathe, looking at the beautiful engagement ring in the beautiful red velvet box. You stick your hand out and watch Tony slip the ring onto your finger.

“I’m so glad you said yes,” Tony chuckles as he takes you into an embrace, kissing you slowly.

“Well Mr. Tony Stark, there isn’t anyone I’d rather marry.” You beam, allowing him to kiss you once more.

+++

TAGLIST

[raainberry]

Commonality

« The fact of sharing interests, experiences, or other characteristics with someone or something. »

Mina x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - a small argument opened your weekend with Mina, but that doesn’t mean it’s ruined

wordcount - 1.8K

T/W - Food

A/N - i have such a soft spot for mina… so long overdue that it was requested, i love mina and i hope you’ll like this one, enjoy!

Waking up on the couch at your own apartment had you confused. You never fell asleep there, it made no sense when a perfect bed and comfortable mattress waited for you to return every night.

So you looked around for clues about the decisions that could have lead you there, and it all came back to you when your eyes landed on the unfinished puzzle on the coffee table.

A sigh, followed by a soft chuckle pushed past your lips as you recalled the argument that puzzle had started between you and your girlfriend Mina.

It was supposed to be a relaxing night, tiring your minds out a little bit in order to fall asleep quicker later on. The two of you were used to building legos together, but never tried puzzles yet so you decided it would be fun to expand the fun.

Both consisted of building and solving stuff, how difficult could it be? It wasn’t, but it sure ended up being very different.

A small but messy difference emerged when Mina started building the puzzle’s frame and you heped in an… unusual way. At least not the way she expected you to. In hindsight, the fact that you kept grabbing random pieces and building parts of the inner picture first instead of helping her wasn’t that big of a deal.

She wasn’t one to get mad often, but something about your thought process angered her in the moment. She couldn’t even tell you what now that the sun was back and her mind rested, but it was enough to make you sleep on the couch apparently.

Despite the feeling of having Mina upset with you, the situation kept pulling a smile out of your lips. You thought about it the whole time as you freshened yourself up before breakfast, her last words to you looping in the back of your mind.

When she told you to sleep on the couch after some back and forth, you naturally asked why, to which she simply uttered “because of your nonsense.” before storming off to your bedroom.

You remember her frown as she tried to understand why you were doing such a thing, all while you tried to understand what was so wrong about it. It escalated quickly, both of you defending your point of view in the most gentle argument ever. There was no screaming, no harsh words, just confusion, frustration and fatigue.

The whole thing was just silly, and you had a feeling Mina thought the same when she appeared in the kitchen, all shy and avoident.

You could tell she wanted to make up already, but didn’t know how to. Knowing her, you knew she somehow blamed herself and felt as though she was the one that had to take the first step.

Her odd behavior put a smile on your face as you watched her feet stutter around the kitchen. Her busy mind rendered her oblivious to the breakfast you’d already cooked for her, waiting in front of the empty chair next to you.

“I already made some for you.” You finally spoke up before she took out a bowl and started making a third one.

Your voice startled her, but hearing it brought a sense of comfort she desperately needed.

“Oh.” She muttered, sparing you a glance before focusing on the food. “Thank you.”

By the time she sat down, you got the last of your own food down but the dishes could wait. You had a girlfriend to kiss and make up with.

Mina dug around her food for a few. It looked delicious, she knew it was, but she couldn’t ignore your eyes on her. They were insistant, and when she finally acknowledged you, she found they were also amused.

Hers became busy switching from your eyes to your lips as she pressed her own together. “Did you sleep well?”

Your laugh wasn’t exactly what she expected, but how could you not when her words came out so blunt.

Her words could seem loaded to anyone unfamiliar with the amount of love she felt for you. It was a bit of a petty question, yes, but she genuinely cared about your answer. She wanted it to be positive, she wanted you to feel rested, you needed it lately.

“Not the best sleep I’ve had.” You said truthfully, causing Mina to pull her hand into her sleeves.

“I’m sorry.” She pouted, finally releasing the guilt she felt all night, regretting her decision ever since she slipped into the cold sheets of your bed. “I don’t know what got into me, it was so mean.”

“It’s okay,” you giggled, “I still love you.”

Leaning closer, you looked for her lips on yours and she gladly gave them to you. They lingered there, basking in your familiarity and appreciating your love for as long as she could before you pulled them away.

“Building puzzles from the inside is crazy though, I truly believe you’re built upside down.” She said, a soft laugh following her own words.

“Why does everyone say that?” You whined, but it only made her laugh harder.

“Because it might be true, but there’s nothing wrong with that. I love that you’re upside down.” She mumbled almost to herself before lifting a spoon to her mouth.

The weekend had a tough start, but you weren’t going to let it stain the rest of it. Mina proposed to actually finish the puzzle and although you were hesitant and not in the mood, she managed to bribe you with a few kisses.

Worked like a charm every time, but who could blame your weakness when Mina was the cause.

That puzzle didn’t last long either, and turned out fairly easy to solve thanks to your mixed techniques. You made sure to rub it in her face, but a single glare had you stopping before ending up on the couch again.

“I think I want to hang it.” You said, after placing a redeeming kiss on her cheek.

“Where?” She asked, looking around at the various posters and art pieces hanging on the walls.

“Well, not here. In my bedroom.” You clarified, glancing back the finished puzzle. “It’s a really nice picture, it matches the color palette I have going on there. It would be so pretty and I’d love to remember the time we spent on it whenever I look at it.”

“You want to remember our argument?” She chuckled, and you laughed.

“No, I wanna remember you and how happy you were while solving it.”

Mina pouted at your clarification. You were too sweet to handle at times, she just wanted to wrap you up in her arms and keep you close to her in order to give you back all the love you’ve been giving her.

Despite you assuring her that she didn’t have to, that you knew how much she cared about you, she felt as though she didn’t express enough of her feelings. They were abundant, all so different and so beautiful she felt overwhelmed at times, preventing her from doing most things she’d like.

All the words she didn’t tell you, all the hugs she held back on, the kisses she passed on from how shy she felt facing that intimidating love.

She was forever thankful for your patience and how brave you could be for the both of them despite your own fears surrounding this relationship.

“I’ll help you.” She smiled, and you recognized her love. In how soft her voice came out, in the way she smiled and looked at you. In the warmth of her hands, through the stolen kisses and hidden caresses of her thumb against yours.

The two of you walked through the aisles of the nearest supply store, hand in hand and eyes wandering all over random items you didn’t come for nor need. A few laughs were shared over silly jokes about them, and by the time you checked out, it was time for lunch.

Both your stomachs were craving different things, and you spent the whole way back bickering over what to cook before settling on a genius idea: going to the pc bang down your street.

Gaming was another hobby you shared with Mina, and when she learned you lived near such a place… She basically decided your apartment was also hers.

You never complained, (until she made you sleep on your own couch under your own roof) she was the only one you’d willingly share that space with so often.

The owner of that pc bang liked the two of you very much, probably because of the amount of money you poured into the business, but it was a nice contact to have. The free meals were a very nice perk.

You ended up spending the entire afternoon there, sharing games, snacks, wins, losses and kisses before going back out into the late autumn cold.

Mina had only brought a small jacket, failing to anticipate the evening’s drop in temperatures. Her arms wrapped around herself as soon as she stepped out, desperately clinging onto the bit of warmth her jacket had trapped. If it weren’t for your arm pulling her closer to you, she would have started shivering like a cartoon character.

The proximity made her smile into her scarf, a good hideout for the way you made her feel. You were oblivious to the way her heart started to beat a little faster, but not to her eyes lingering on the bunch of lego sets exposed on the other side of the street you were on.

You stopped in your tracks to face the shop window from afar. A few sets seemed interesting from your spot, some more extravagant than others and you couldn’t help but wonder what could be hiding inside that shop.

“Are you thinking the same thing?” Mina asked, searching for your eyes. When you met hers, it only took a second for you to race each other across the street.

You opted for a rendition of Hokusai’s ‘The Great Wave’, a few thousand pieces that would keep you busy for the rest of the weekend.

“Promise you won’t make me sleep on the couch for no reason?” You asked, taking a seat on the ground next to her while she emptied the Lego box.

“As long as you don’t give me one.” She answered, making you pout.

The pout on your lips was only acknowledged by her when she turned her attention away from the Legos as she found the silence to be stretching a little longer than normal. The sight of your sulking made her giggle and she decided to let go of her inhibition once more.

She held her pinky out for yours to link with, and the offer made your eyebrows furrow together. Confusion didn’t hold you back from blindly agreeing to whatever she had in mind though.

Could have been anything, Mina was hard to predict, but something about the smile that pulled on her lips when your fingers intertwined comforted you.

This was just another wholesome, silly Mina thing.

And you were right.

“I promise.”

[everythingne]

marketing ploy - LN4 / ch. 3

a little (drunken) insight to Olivia and Oscar's relationship. Plus, a conversation she’s definitely not supposed to overhear, and one she finds makes her start to regret everything.

piastri!oc x lando norris / fake dating, brothers best friend trope

warnings/notes: alcohol/drunkness, language, like two jokes about sex, i named oscars sisters bc i couldn't find anything after two minutes of searching and also its cute ok

prev | next

—

06 APRIL 2023 — MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA ↴

“Oscar!” I shout, the clock striking midnight. At my mother's house in Melbourne, we’re already all terribly drunk in the pool with only our eldest sister Ophelia's half sober boyfriend to make sure we all don’t drown while the 'middle' sister Oaklynn is in control of the aux so our extended family can't ruin the mood with what we call 'divorced dad rock.' It's an average Piastri birthday party, booze, music, and sopping wet bodies across the pool deck in the mid Autumn chill.

“Ollie?” Oscar says, turning around and slipping on the wet deck, splashing vodka all over the ground beneath him. Lily giggles into the back of her hand, steadying herself on his arm, and I snort as Oscar makes a face at the spilled drink.

We were so not going to have a good flight back to England tomorrow night.

“Happy birthday to my twin brother because its now midnight, baby!” I shout, being met with loud cheers as my mother guides me across the pool deck so I don't fall in. As Lily takes the now half empty glass from Oscar, I'm handing him what is probably the biggest shot of the night. He grins, arm wrapping around my shoulder as we clink our glasses in toast, tap them on our lifting knees and then take the shots with no chasers. The Fireball washes down my throat fine, but Lily’s shrill laugh lets me know Oscar’s not faring so well as our family claps at our celebratory shots.

“Come on, Ossie!” I laugh, leaning into him as I giggle and he laughs in turn, hiding his face in my hair as he groans and slumps against me. Luckily, Lily is smart enough to slip the shot glasses out of our hands.

“Why do I always let you pick Fireball? It burns every time I drink it.” He complains into my hair before stepping back, I grin up at him as a polaroid flashes.

“Twenty two slaps!” someone shouts before I can respond to Oscar. I scream, running to be out of the way of the barrage of backhands from our sisters when I trip. Oscar tries to catch me, bless him, and we both end up screaming as we tumble into the pool with a loud splash.

“Good lord—" Josh, Ophelia's boyfriend laughs, and he and Lily help us all back to the deck with plenty of half-wet towels to try and dry us off. I giggle and sit up once the parties attention is shifted elsewhere, some song playing that takes the heat off of us for a moment. I peek up to look at Oscar and he smiles at me, poking my nose.

“Thanks for this party." He says and I shrug, going to say its no big deal as I always do when he continues talking,

"Lando’s stress is rubbing off on me. With him being next in line for the best racer position, McLaren's pushing me and Bia up as quick as they can. I think they're expecting someone to try and buy Lando out from them.” he murmurs and in my head, the rest of the party fizzles out. My attention is solely on the man born a few minutes before me. His arm wraps around mine as he pulls me to his side. I slot there, where I belong, a comforting embrace of an older brother of the same womb.

"Lando's contract goes to 2026, and lets not worry about F1 right now." I poke his thigh where a bruise from a minor crash in training months back was finally finishing its healing stages, "Ossie, you, and everyone here, come before anything or anyone else. I would rather throw you a big party than fly back to England to chase around statistics with Red Bull for a few days."

I close my eyes as the world spins around me and I feel Oscar shift. His body heat vanishing around my shoulders, the air seemingly changes as some sort of breeze rolls across the pool deck. It makes me shiver, and I glance up at Oscar to see him staring into the light reflections of the glowsticks deep in the water our legs dip into.

“Ossie?” I whisper. He's in his head again, and this time I'm concerned it's my fault for some reason. His tongue pokes out, a sharp breath coming through his nose before he turns to me.

“What’s happening with you and Lando?"

Oh for the love of god--

"I know, I know, okay, older brother don’t let him hurt you speech bullshit blah blah but… is there something there?” Oscar blurts out with the upmmost care in his tone. I'm taken aback by how genuinely worried he seems about it.

“It’s nothing serious.” I deflect, hand coming to squeeze his wrist just above the watch he wears (that is definitely ruined now), “Just some flirting, some gifts… it’s like testing the waters.”

“Is he… kind to you?” Oscar's tone is far too accusing for my liking, almost like he's expecting me to say no, but despite that I nod.

“Too kind.” I find a small giggle escapes my lips. I have the urge to tell him everything, to say it’s all for media, but something makes me stop myself other than knowing it would kinda ruin the whole secrecy of it. Oscar watches my face, and I can see him sense there’s a lie, but he doesn’t push.

“Okay.” he sighs, taking my hand and squeezing it, “as long as he’s good to you.”

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

tagged: oscarpiastri, oaklynnpiastri, opheliapiastri

liked by redbullracing, mclarenracing, landonorris, and 896k others...

oliviapiastri: to ossie,

happy birthday to the only guy worthy of sharing a girls night wine bottle with. thank u for always being our biggest supporter in the darkest days and a ray of sunshine on our good ones. papaya looks wonderful on u and we cannot wait to see you grow into such a confident person (thank u @ landonorris for that)

ur a good man, charlie brown. much love from oakie, ophie, and ollie (and lily, josh, momma, and dad) 🧡🧡

landonorris: happy birthday to the only guy who is allowed to pick me up from the club atp

⤷ oscarpiastri: u would be dead without me

⤷ landonorris: actually.

maxverstappen1: ayyy happy birthday man !

lovepiastris: AAAA BABY OSCAR!!!

oscarpiastri: watch me literally sob into this chardonnay.

mclaren: easily the best looking siblings 💪🏻😮‍💨

10 APRIL 2023 — MILTON KEYNES, UK ↴

"I'm bored." Oscar whines over the phone, making me laugh as I settle down at my desk in Red Bull's home base. There's about sixteen hours worth of things I need to cram into the next eight, considering my statistics for the next grand prix are due in like... twenty six hours?

"Aren't you supposed to be training?" I hum, reading through files and highlighting important notes I know I'll need to bring up with my team during our meeting tonight.

"Lando's going right now, and I kinda almost puked after endurance so I’m taking a break.” He makes a mock gagging noise and I recoil and groan and his soft laughter comes through my headphones.

"Christ, Ossie." I lean back in my chair, staring at the list of notes of things we need to improve by Azerbaijan, "Augh, this is gonna be the death of me. Max's numbers keep changing so he keeps skewing the data, at least Perez is pretty consistent."

"How many sensors do you guys have for Azerbaijan?"

"I'm not doing that work today, thats Kylie's job. Most of my work right now is just making sure that the car isn’t literally falling apart in Max’s hands since he’s been pushing it so hard this year.” I run my hand through my hair, feeling the grease along my hairline and cringing. I need a self-care day soon.

"Oh and Kylie’s pretty much running real time analytics herself this race so I might be able to hang around you at McLaren for a while if Christian's not breathing down my neck."

“Sick. I need to introduce you to the new social media photographer. Lando convinced her to a do a whole section on film.” Oscar giggles and my eyes widen--film photography was one of my passions in secondary school, and I can't imagine trying to shoot F1 on it.

“This poor girl.” I laugh as I adjust my seating and open the sensors scan from the left tire of Max's car, noting any abnormalties that haven't already been flagged. In the silent lull in the conversation, there’s a click and a creak on Oscar’s end of the call.

“Oscar—“ Lando’s talking is muffled for half a second before I hear something fall and a chair squeak, “what were you trying to ask me about earlier?”

My did my heart flutter when I heard Lando talk?

Nope. No. No, thank you. No.

I did not like Lando Norris.

“Oh—hold on Ollie—I’m going to attempt to mute.” I hear Oscar laugh as he taps his phone-screen, and like many times I’ve been on the phone with him I have to pause to see if he actually managed to mute the call.

Oscar seemed to always miss the important buttons, like hanging up or muting himself. Over the years, I’ve heard quite a few things I wasn’t supposed to.

Like Oscar’s next question—

“If I don’t just say it I’m never gonna ask, because it’s such a cliche thing but—what exactly are you trying to do with my sister..?”

I nearly die as my cheeks flush bright red as I scramble to pick my phone up.

Okay, super overdramatic reaction, but hearing this conversation happen in real time is not something I can feel like I would be able to physically handle. So, I’m quick to turn my volume all the way down and take off my headphones as soon as Lando’s laugh makes my cheeks dust pink.

Oscar was never particularly protective over me, in fact it had always been opposite. Even as the youngest Piastri I was constantly protecting my older siblings with my whole heart, like when Oaklynn was being bullied by her pole vaulting captain and I hit that guy so hard I broke his nose, or when Ophelia first got her heart broken and I drove all the way from Melbourne to Sydney in one go to pick her and her stuff up from his house. Oscar and I had many moments like that, considering our sisters were a bit older than us, it was always Oscar and I together. I had moved to England with him when he chose to pursue racing, he had been there every late night I spent studying to get into analytics as early as I had.

And I knew one day Oscar would have this conversation with the man I would marry, someone who took my entire heart in his hands and held it so gently I felt safer than I ever had.

But, Lando was not that guy. Not as far as I was aware.

Maybe ten minutes later, figuring the conversation is long done, I turn up the volume and just catch the end of it. Oscar's laughing, theres a soft thwack of someones arm being hit as Lando keeps talking, his voice fading into my headphones.

"...Ollie's just... I could stare at her all day and never get bored."

"You are--" Oscar laughs, and I hear him hit Lando's arm again, "so so goddamn cheesy, mate!"

"Sorry!" Lando laughs, and I try to ignore the way I bring a hand to my mouth as I stand up and pace around a little, shaking my hands and arms out a I try to suppress the giggles that bubble to my chest.

10 APRIL 2023 — IMESSAGE ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST ↴

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 978k others..

oliviapiastri: ‘can i come pick u up from work?’ and then we end up at a car meet AND i get to sleep over?? win win.

⤷ maxverstappen1: @ charlesleclerc shovel talk?

⤷ charlesleclerc: yep.

⤷ oliviapiastri: oscar has already been yelling at me for like five hrs pls i swear nothing happened

redbullracing: lets just not tell christian you were out of the sunroof of a drift car.

mc481: lando and olivia spotted together... olivia suddenly has a new bf...

oaklynnpiastri: BABY SISTER HAS A BOYYYY AAAAAAAA

letsgolando: OH MY GOD THE FLOWERS?

18 APRIL 2023 - AZERBAIJAN GP PADDOCKS ↴

"Olivia Piastri."

"Max Verstappen."

"Olivia Louise Rae Piastri."

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc."

"Shit, she remembered."

I snort as I set my bag down as Max and Charles hover at my desk in the Azerbaijan paddocks. I'm starting to think the Ferrari driver might be having a contract change soon if his team is so lax with him basically living with us in Red Bull.

"What?" I ask, crossing my arms as the fabric of one of Lando's plain black leather jackets he'd lent me rubs the fabric of the sweatshirt I'd stolen from him underneath.

"How was your drift date?" Max grins and I roll my eyes as I plop down in my chair. Charles takes his spot in one of the side chairs as Max sits on the edge of my desk.

"He showed up to Red Bull, brought me flowers, we stopped to get takeout food and then went to the car show. He knew one of the guys drifting so we got to ride in his car and then he invited me over to watch a movie and we both fell asleep halfway through." I lean forward, "does that satisfy you?"

"Sleep?" Charles prods and I take a pen off my desk and throw it at him.

"Yes, sleep." I huff and before Max and Charles can continue their barrage of idiotic comments and questions, three knocks sound to the creak of the hinges as Christian steps into my office with Ada right behind him.

"Morning Chris, Ada." I nod and Max and Charles stand, greeting them both with firm handshakes.

"Ferrari might need their driver back, Leclerc, and Max--you need to get dressed." Christian waves them off without as much as a hello, before Ada shuts and locks my office door.

"What?" I find myself asking again as Ada grins to me.

"Sales are up 70%." She says, "We've made around... 28 thousand pounds so far."

"Holy shit." Is all I can say. 28 thousand pounds in revenue because Lando and I were pretending to date?

"You guys are doing swimmingly, we just have one more stipulation. You've already done the soft launch, Lando will be doing his tonight. The next thing you guys need to do, other than the paparazzi date but Astrid is working with Lando on that right now, is the celebration." Ada clasps her hands, Christian nods, keeping his back to the door that leads into the office and for some reason it feels suffocating.

"Great Britain. Hopefully Lando will podium, its his home race, a nice little kiss, it'll be cute."

We have to kiss in front of everyone. How could I fucking forget? The GB prix isnt for a while, two months if I remember right, but my mouth goes dry at the thought of kissing Lando Norris.

I don't remember agreeing and bidding goodbye to the two, all I know is my stomach ache doesn't go away for the rest of the night. Even when I ball the fabric of Lando's jacket--still smelling like him, over my face and scream into it.

LANDONORRIS MADE A NEW POST

liked by oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 987k others

landonorris: made a pretty good pinkie promise a while ago.

oscarpiastri: good man

mclaren: we love to see our racers winning 🥹

mercedeeznnn: this has to be olivia. IT HAS TO BE.

maxfewtrell: don't fuck it up norris

⤷ landonorris: trying

rbfansunite: so we're all thinking the same thing right?

papapa.ya: LANDO AND OLIVIA !!!! WE WIN !!!!

[maidragoste]

I Care About You

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: You remind Aegon that there are people who care about him.

First one shot of the 1k followers special. Thanks for all the support, it always makes me happy to answer your questions and comments. reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥰🥰💕💕

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes. I'm also posting this while I'm half asleep.

This is part of the universe of "the queen and her husbands" but can be read independently

Masterlist Serie

Aegon woke with a grunt. The sunlight hit him straight in the face. Surely the maid who took him to his room was new and he didn't know that he had to let the curtains open before leaving. Now he had to get up to draw the curtains… Or he could cover up to his head and continue sleeping. Clearly, that was the easier option so he chose that one.

"Good morning"

Aegon quickly got up from the bed at the sound of your voice. He instantly regretted it as he felt dizzy. He stood still for a few moments waiting for the dizziness to go away and took the opportunity to observe his surroundings. He was not in his chambers. The room was a bit smaller. The curtains were blue instead of green. The furniture didn't seem to be just for decoration, like hers, and it had a purpose. Your desk was full of scrolls, I supposed that you were answering your brothers' letters last night when he entered your chambers drunk. You could have kicked him out but instead, you let him sleep in your bed. Not only that, but you had also gotten him clean clothes because his clothes didn't smell of wine.

"You should break your fast," you said without looking at him. Your attention was on whatever you were sewing. You were sitting by the table, which was laden with Aegon's favorite fruits along with some slices of bread and cheese.

The prince sat in the chair that was at the end of the table, closer to you. You still weren't looking at him. Aegon knew you were angry. You weren't yelling at him or insulting him or hitting him like his grandfather and his mother did every time they found him drunk. But I could feel your anger. I didn't know he told you last night to get you upset. No matter how hard he tried to remember, the only thing that brought him back was a headache. He couldn't help but tense up. You're the only person who seems to tolerate it. And now he probably ruined the good relationship between you because of his big mouth. In the end, his mother is right, he always ruins everything.

You saw that Aegon wasn't eating anything so you left the new cloak you were sewing for Jacaerys leaning on another chair. You moved closer to the table to grab a slice of bread and spread some cheese on top. You repeated the procedure with more slices, then placed the plate in front of the prince.

"Eat"

It was just a small gesture but for some reason it made Aegon feel warm and at the same time a small lump rose in his throat. You were mad at him but you still worry about him eating. You ordered his favorite fruits. He wasn't even sure his own mother remembered it.

"You can eat. I swear it's not poisoned" you said making your uncle smile. You couldn't help but smile too when you noticed that he wasn't tense anymore. You didn't like seeing him tense around you. Reminded you of how he got when the hand of the king or queen was present in the same room.

"I apologize for last night," Aegon said even though he didn't remember anything.

Your smile disappeared. "Why?" you snorted as you saw the prince remain silent, confirming your suspicions. "You're apologizing for something you don't even remember. Do you want to know what you told me?" You didn't even wait for an answer from him and you kept talking because you needed to have this conversation with Aegon “You said you didn't mind ending up dead. I found you drowning in your vomit" you felt a lump begin to form in your throat remembering how scared you were when the first thing you saw when you returned to your room was him lying on the floor. For a moment you thought he was dead "I made my servants will help me, when we finished cleaning you I began to tell you that you were irresponsible and that you could have died." you hid your hands under the table to prevent him from seeing how they were shaking "Then you told me to stop pretending that I care about you and that you didn't care about ending up dead because you knew that nobody would miss you because nobody cares about you"

Silence. Aegon couldn't bear to see the heartbroken look on your face so he turned his attention to the plate of bread.

“Do you really think that?” you asked in a whisper, fearing you already knew the answer.

"You are wrong" Aegon's silence had been enough to know his answer so you decided to make him see how things really are"Daeron cares about you. If he didn't care then why does he keep writing you letters?"

You can't blame him for thinking that. It wasn't all in his head. He knew it was true. It was no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn't give a shit about any of his children other than Rhaenyra. For a man who had always wanted a son, the king hardly paid attention to him.

His grandfather and his mother didn't really care about him either, they only cared that he lived up to his expectations and prepared to occupy the throne. Always demanding that he should be more like Aemond. If he did turn up dead, he was sure they would feel relieved not to have to carry him anymore and now they would have the heir they wanted so much: Aemond. His brother wouldn't miss him either, he knows he thinks he's a drunken idiot good for nothing but trouble for his and Helaena's mother. His sister would be better off without him, she always seemed uncomfortable around him.

"For formality" your uncle answered without hesitation, surprising you because you didn't understand how he couldn't see what was more than clear to you.

"Daeron writes to you every week. He is interested in you, he misses you. If it were a matter of formality, he would bother to write to you every three months and his letters would be short. Do you know? When you take too long to answer his letters, he asks about you" you smiled to see the surprise in their eyes"Your children love you too. Maelor laughs more at your grimaces than at mine. You didn't hear it from me but Jaehaera likes it better when you sing to her and Jaehaerys would rather fly with you and Sunfyre than Dreamfyre "You released one of her hands so you could caress her face as you saw the tears start to well up in her eyes. "Your other siblings love you too. Helaena may not be as demonstrative but she does. Aemond cares for you too if she wasn't so then he wouldn't bother to come looking for you every time you're late coming back from your adventures in the city. Aegon, you really do have people who care about you and love you. So you have to start being more careful. Please, Aegon I couldn't stand to lose you" at the end you couldn't help but break your voice. He had been your greatest support along with Aemond after your father's death. The brothers had been the reason you stayed in King's Landing. They are your house.

You rose from your chair so that you could kneel in front of the prince and took his hands. You needed to be close to him.

Feeling your touch Aegon turned to see you. Your eyes were painted with pity. It felt strange to see that look in your eyes. He remembered when you were little and you used to look at him with nothing but admiration and adoration. Now he was so pathetic that you looked at him with pity.

Suddenly you found yourself with the prince clinging to you. His arms hugged you tightly and you could feel his tears wetting your dress but it didn't bother you. You cling to him with the same force. It broke your heart that he would think he was worth so little and no one would miss him if something happened to him. You hoped you wouldn't have another scare like the other last night. You really hoped that your uncle would change his behavior. You didn't want to wake up one day and find out that Aegon had been found dead somewhere.

"I care about you, Aegon" you stroked his hair lovingly "I love you. Never doubt that" you kissed his cheek "King's Landing would suck without you" Aegon's laugh made your chest vibrate.

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[hauntedwitch04]

Bday secret party

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 2.0k words

Warnings: pure and awesome fluff (after yesterday ahaha), lovely Remus, my obsession with Edimburgh

Author's note: Hi! Here another one shot fo the series for my birthday. Hope you like it loves.

Requests are open I Ask

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Bday plan

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"James, I swear if you said anything to her I will hang you upside down from the astronomy tower for an entire day." Remus says in a particularly annoyed and contrite tone.

The young werewolf immediately felt guilty for talking that way to his friend, but at the same time he couldn't believe that James had almost screwed up the whole plan he had designed to put on your birthday party. He had been planning everything down to the last detail for a month now, to make sure everything is perfect on your big day, and he couldn't let a chatty deer ruin everything just because he's careless.

He sees pure fear in his friend's eyes after threatening him with one of his greatest fears: height.

"Sorry." Whispers James, as he backs away slowly to make room for his friend, seeing that he is stressed right now. "But I swear she didn't understand anything. It just slipped out that I had to see you to arrange something, and I said it was my gift to her." Potter continues, as he looks at Sirius, who up to this moment had been silent. Immediately his best friend understands the plea for help and nods.

"Yes, she didn't understand anything, we were very good at lying to her." Says the older Black, as Regulus runs a hand over his face, remembering the scene that took place a short time ago in the Great Hall. Indeed James and Sirius had been good at creating a believable excuse, but I young Black knows you better than you think, and he had seen in your eyes the seed of doubt, and he knows that this is not good at all. In your group of friends you are known for having a sixth sense and a spirit of observation so keen that sometimes it seems you can read people's minds and, even, the future. The very moment they've said their shit, Regulus knows that some strange mechanisms have been activated in your mind that have caused you to weigh all possible options, and so he knows they're screwed.

"No, you have to excuse me. I didn't think organizing a birthday was so hard, but at the same time I want everything to be perfect for her, because she deserves it." Remus confesses, as he holds his head in his hands, trying to relax.

"You know she's going to say you're overreacting anyway and she doesn't deserve it." Regulus comments, as he puts away the last things for the party. Your birthday would be celebrated this evening, after a romantic walk between you and your fiancé. Remus had managed to convince the prefect with the Ravenclaw night shift to turn a blind eye, and would thus take you in front of the Room of Requirement, afterwards around the park, and there all your friends would surprise you. It was a well-thought-out plan, and it still doesn't explain how you didn't actually almost come to find out only today and not weeks before.

"Which is silly after all he gives every day for us." Sirius continues, as James nods, placing balloons on the wall. "Our mother deserves a proper celebration." The oldest Black concludes, making all three other boys laugh. "Ever since you and Remus got together, the boys started calling you the 'mom' of the group, since they always teased Remus for being their dad in a way, since he was the most responsible of the four.

When they finish laughing they go back to work to sort out the last few things for the party, knowing that it is now only a short time away. Right now you are supposed to be with the girls, whose job it is to distract you from the absence of your friends and your boyfriend, but Remus cannot help but keep fidgeting both behind every little detail and out of fear that at any moment you might walk in the door and find out why he has not been very close to you these past few weeks, but after all, part of him knows it might be because of the gift he gave you.

Remus keeps moving like a damned soul without rest for a while before Regulus stands up and blocks him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Man, everything is perfect, why don't you just relax for a moment?" The youngest among them asks the werewolf, but immediately Regulus sees in his friend's eyes that there is something else and not just what they are preparing that is upsetting him.

"There is something that doesn't give you peace." Regulus comments, and Remus says nothing, and just looks at him. "It's not like it's the gift you gave her, is it?" The Slytherin continues, marveling at the Gryffindor in front of him.

"How did you do that?" Lupin asks, increasingly shocked by young Black's prowess, when the other in response merely laughs.

"You were playing with a little box earlier, and can one read the doubt and fear in your eyes?" Regulus explains, continuing to laugh, while Remus in response rolls his eyes and looks at the clock, seeing that it was almost time to see you, so he gets up.

"It's almost time for our walk. Take care guys, the others should be here soon. Don't screw up please." Lupin asks as he looks at his friends, who reassure him and give him pats of encouragement.

"Go and return victorious with the lady messer Lupin." Sirius says, giving him a sort of bow, just before Remus walks out the door. He turns and as a last thing gives him a middle finger, after promising never to let him see "The princess bride" again.

Remus could feel his own heart beating in his throat as he saw you coming downstairs in simple jeans and his favorite sweater. You are simply perfect in his eyes, and nothing could change his mind.

"Finally, it seems like I haven't seen you in forever. Where have you been until now?" You ask curiously, seeing him a little stressed. "Are you okay? You look a little pale honey."

Immediately his heart warms at hearing your concern, and he can't help but think that maybe those nutty friends of his are right to call you "mom," and gently the boy shakes his head.

"I'm fine honey, maybe I just need to get some air. Would you like to take a ride with me?" He asks, and he doesn't even have to wait a second for an answer, as like a hurricane you pounce on him, taking him under your arm and running toward the school grounds. You walk around the lawns for a while, laughing and joking like you haven't in a long time. Nothing could dent your mood, and nothing exists apart from each other at this moment.

From the outside, one can see obvious the love you feel for the other person, only from your eyes, more than from your gestures, which seem to sing the most beautiful love song ever heard.

Hours seem to pass, then Remus looks at his watch and realizes that you are running late, so with the excuse that he has to catch another prefect in one of the side corridors to get the keys to a closet for the next prank James and Sirius are planning, he takes you in front of the mystery room. He's never felt more flustered than he does right now, and he's doubtful whether to give you the gift now or later, when you, damned curious as usual, lean out and touch the door.

"How come the room of needs is visible?" Ask curiously, as you watch him break into a cold sweat and try to play the part of the one who hides nothing.

"I have no idea my dear, try opening it and see what's behind it." Try suggesting Remus, as he rests a hand on your shoulder to guide you into the darkness of the room that opens before you. A few seconds pass and just as you're wondering what the point of it all is, the lights come on and all your friends pop out from behind couches and armchairs, shouting who "surprise" who "happy birthday," but all with beaming smiles on their lips as they come to hug you.

You immediately feel tears in your eyes, which you let run, because of the happiness and excitement they made you feel seeing so many people gathered to celebrate you.

Once you've greeted everyone you turn to Remus, who looks at you smiling, his hands behind his back.

"Did you arrange everything?" You ask in amazement as you look around and try to memorize every single detail of everything around you. "You didn't have to-"

"Yes I had to. You deserve this and much more than I can give you, you deserve the world, indeed the universe. And it wasn't just me, everyone helped me in some way." He interrupts you, as he circles your shoulders with one arm, and you hold him even tighter to you, squeezing his waist. "I love you, and all I want to do is remind you of that every day, but today especially, after all it's your day, and we all came here just for you, because we all love you, me more than all of them." He continues, resting his forehead on yours. Then he freezes for a moment, right for a few seconds and pulls out a box from his pants pocket.

"I want to give you my present now, because I want you to think about it." He says and you, confused for the umpteenth time this evening, wipe away the last of your tears and then pick up the box he is handing you. It is a black velvet box, and when you open it you see a pair of keys. You look up not understanding what they were, so your boyfriend explains.

"These are the keys to an apartment in Edinburgh, in your favorite area, which I may or may not have asked an old family friend to rent to me and my girlfriend, once I finished school, if she wanted to move in with me. What do you say, what will she decide?" He asks as he strokes your face and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can't help but cry again before you go back to hugging him, just enough to take his breath away, your arms wrapped around his neck.

"I don't even have to think about it, the answer is obviously yes idiot." You whisper between the kisses you leave all along his face, making him laugh, while a few tears escape him as well. "You know you're pretty dumb for the smartest guy I know, it was obvious my answer was yes. And me thinking for a moment today that you had found a new girlfriend and were going to break up with me, damn how stupid I am."

Both of you laugh, still clasped in each other's arms, enjoying that closeness you had missed so much.

"I love you more than my own life, how could I ever look for another girl, when I have the most perfect girl that exists in the whole universe?" Remmy says in a whisper in your ear.

"I love you too Lupin, but you don't have to suck up, look you've already won your reward tonight." You counter by winking at him and he jokes by raising his eyebrows and whispering "I won, let's hurry up and leave this party then," making you laugh, until that sweet moment is interrupted as usual by the grace of Sirius Mr.Elegance of the Year Black.

"Do you want to be part of the party too, or are you going to be lovebirds the whole party?" He asks to throw a handful of confetti at you.

"I guess your reward will have to wait for Lupin." You say, as you hear him laugh, and together you go to enjoy this party with your friends, while in your mind already what will happen tonight in your own personal after party.

TAGLIST

• @shadowolf993 @sadblueberry721 @goldenharrysworld @fairy-witch-bitch @xoxoloverb @idli-dosa @rainelikerain @s-we-e-t-t-ea @daph-505 @nyx2021 @vjmoral @duda @drayshadow @siriusstwelveyears @highwayhunch @uwiuwi @itsmeseph @sassyrebelrockerprincess @highwayhunch @siriuslydestiny @haushinka27 @moonysluvrboy @maraurderssimpcuzwhytfnot @sgchamberlain @nyotamalfoy @eichenhouseproperty @mxmxnto-mori @anonimusy @raajali3 @helloitsmeeeeeee @standarizedpumpkins @maraurderzkinnie @omenhel @esposadomd @yourpurrrrrfect @the-ruler-of-death @dylanobriens-love @starvedxcupid @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @digitalhearts @percymylove @kayden666 @nightfiress @backups-backups @bless-my-demons @dudenhaaa27 @daeneeryss @starsval @rorysreallyrandom @superbookwormy64 @hjgdhghoe @mortica-raven13 @theviewfromtheotherside @watersquirtpewpewboomm @harleycao @yomomsgf @vixparker @imnotcryingurcrying @shitidksstuff

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Our Song Cord: Like I've Never Seen The Sky Before

(Chapter 6)

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: We've made it to the end! Thank you to everybody that's shown me support on this series! It's been a crazy ride since this is my longest story to date, but I'm happy with how it turned out. There's lots of baby fluff because I think it's cute. I hope you all enjoy it too. This is also very lightly proofread, so if you see any mistakes, no you didn't. Every chapter title is a reference to a song, so if you know the song, you get a cookie. I really really appreciate feedback so comments and reblogs are encouraged! All characters are aged up.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Lots of Baby Fluff, Soft Domestic Neteyam, Smut, P in V, Mentions of Breeding, Mentions of Knotting, Oral (F receiving), Fingering, Making Out, Scenting, Mentions of Pregnancy, I think that's it

Word Count: 7.1k

Summary: Neteyam confronts you about your child and it changes both of your lives.

You gently lay Veyä on the soft mat trying to be careful to not wake her. She fusses a bit at the loss of contact with your warm skin, but quickly settles back down and you wait for her breathing to even out. Once you feel like you’re in the clear, you breathe out a big, but silent, breath of relief. You find yourself just sitting and staring at her little sleeping face. Her small ears flick wildly in her sleep and it makes you smile fondly.

Just as you stand to prepare yourself to sleep, the cover to your home flips open. It startles you a bit, but you relax when you see Neteyam standing there.

“Neteyam? What are you doing here?” you ask more than a little confused.

He’s silent as he looks at you. He slowly approaches you and you’re not sure if you should back away or not. When he gets close enough, Neteyam can notice the subtle changes in your face. How much rounder your cheeks look and the small bags under your eyes that you no doubt got from so many sleepless nights during and after your pregnancy. He stands there examining your face for a moment before his eyes fall to your baby who lay there sleeping next to you. There was no denying what he knew. If he had any doubt before, there definitely was none now. Neteyam falls to his knees beside Veyä and he watches the small rise and fall of her chest.

“Neteyam, what—” “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” his voice is low and even. Your whole body stiffens at his question. Your mind wants to shoot off your usual denial that you had become so accustomed to, but when Neteyam looks up at you and you see the tears filling his eyes, you know that he knows. There’s no more hiding.

“…I-I…didn’t know how to tell you…” you finally admit and it feels like letting go of a breath that you’ve been holding for months. The tears fall quick and steady down your face.

Neteyam rises to stand in front of you. He cautiously reaches one hand out to hold yours and when you don’t pull away from him, he steps closer. He brushes away your tears with his free hand and holds your face.

“You should have said something to me. I would have been there. You know I would have.”

“I was afraid, Teyam. You were supposed to be mating with someone else and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I didn’t want to jeopardize the future of the clan. And—”

“Hey hey hey, look at me. It’s over with me and Layao, okay? We called it off.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together trying to understand what he was talking about. “But why wou—”

“We don’t even like each other. She’s fine, but I don’t love her. I never have.” He pulls you in closer ever so slightly and rubs his thumb against your cheek.

“Really? But you guys always seemed so…together.”

“We were making the best of the whole thing, but I could never give her my heart. Not when you already had it.”

The tears come in full force and it feels like all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“I love you. Oel ngati kameie.” The tears finally fall from his eyes, but he also smiles down at you. Your body feels like it will go completely limp at any moment. For so long you had dreamed of hearing those words from him. And now, here he was ready and willing to give you all of him. How are you supposed to turn him away?

“I love you too, Teyam. I always have.”

His arms fold completely around you and he holds you close letting you nestle your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head and relishes in the feeling of holding you again after so long. Too long.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” He mutters from above you.

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t give you the chance.”

“I swear, I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours and only yours. I just want to take care of you and our child.” He says still failing to hold his tears. The words ‘our child’ still feel so odd on his tongue, but it’s a good kind of unfamiliarity. His voice wavers a bit and it breaks your heart, but you cling to the hope for the future.

When Neteyam finally pulls back to look at you, he holds your face in his hands and gently kisses you. It’s so small and tentative, it reminds you of the first time you kissed. He’s so careful with you. But you don’t mind since that delicate care was just what you needed right now.

You break the kiss when you hear Veyä rustle around trying to get comfortable. Neteyam bends down next to her and admires her cute little face.

“She is beautiful. Just like her mother.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him, but the blush on your face is evident.

“She takes after you.”, you say nudging his shoulder. You yawn feeling the exhaustion finally catching up to you. “It’s been a long day. I should probably get some sleep.”

“Of course.” Neteyam says before lying down and making himself comfortable on your sleep mat. You watch him surprised, but he’s unphased by your shock when he holds his arms out towards you. You shoot him a questioning look, but he only urges you towards him still waiting with open arms. Hesitantly, you lay yourself next to him and he wraps his arms around you holding you close to his chest. His hand strokes the top of your head while he kisses your forehead and whispers about how good of a mom you are. If you weren’t half asleep already, you’d definitely be on the verge of tears again.

“Hey, Teyam.” You mumble into his chest.

“Yes, tìyawn?”

“I really missed you”

He gives you one more peck, “I missed you too.”

And with that, you let yourself succumb to sleep.

…

These days, you rise early. Your body had become so accustomed to waking up with Veyä in the wee hours of the morning that it’s just automatic for you now. Without opening your eyes, you wait and listen for sounds of her rustling around or fussing, but there is none. You silently thank Eywa that she’s still sleeping and so you turn back over to go back to sleep. When you reach out your arm, you’re surprised when there’s nothing there. No one right there. Your eyes shoot open and panic starts to set in when you see that Neteyam isn’t lying next to you anymore. You whip your head around and your whole body visibly goes slack when you catch sight of him sitting next to your mat. Your hand holds your chest trying to physically still your erratic heart.

“Teyam? What are you doing?” you groggily ask trying to crane your neck to see over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of Veyä’s tail lightly tapping against his forearm.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. She was getting fussy and I wanted to let you get some more rest. I finally just got her to settle down.” He whispers turning his head to you so that you can hear him better.

You shuffle around a bit and scoot closer to get a better look and sure enough, Veyä is cuddled in close to Neteyam’s chest breathing deeply. You can still see the tear stains on her face from her episode that she had. One of your hands reaches out to lightly run over her head and smooth her hair.

“Thank you.” You mutter to Neteyam before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I almost wasn’t sure she’d take to me.” He admits with a bit of guilt.

“Trust me, Teyam, she loves you. She’s loved you since before she was born. Every time I would talk to her about you, she would flip and kick all around.” You recount fondly.

A smile appears on Neteyam’s lips, but then his bottom lip quivers and tears start to fall down his face. When you notice, you hop up from your sleep mat and come to sit next to him.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“I…I missed everything. I wasn’t there for you; for her. I never felt her kick in your belly. I didn’t get to talk to her. I couldn’t even bring myself to stay and see her be born. You both needed me and I left you to do it all on your own.” More tears race down his face and his voice comes out shaky as he speaks.

Your lips press into a line feeling the guilt and shame radiate off him.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you’ll ever forgive me, but I am so incredibly sorry and I swear before Eywa that I will find a way to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Teyam. I should have told you. The important thing is that you’re here. And you’ll be there for her from now on.” Your head rests on his shoulder hoping to show him that you really don’t blame him for how things turned out. He leans his head on yours and sighs deeply looking down at his daughter in his arms.

“Veyä is a beautiful name.”

You smile, “I thought you’d like it.”

Silence falls over you, but it’s a comfortable silence. It’s serene. You close your eyes wanting to bask in this moment and commit every detail to memory. The smell of the early morning air, the steady rise and fall of Neteyam’s shoulder under your head, the tiny coos from Veyä securely clutched in his arms, all of it.

“I’m here to see my favorite girl! Aunt kiri brought toys!” Kiri calls out while wandering into your kelku.

Both you and Neteyam snap your attention to her and she freezes when she sees the scene in front of her.

“Oh, Neteyam! What are you doing here?” she asks awkwardly.

“Wait. Kiri, did you know that this is my child?” his tone is filled with disbelief.

“W-well, yes, but I wanted to tell you! Multiple times.” She says pointedly looking at you and crossing her arms. Neteyam follows her gaze to you and raises his empty brows at you incredulously. You grimace feeling the weight of his stare and cringe when he just utters ‘really?’.

“But it looks like you two idiots finally worked it out. Thank Eywa. Watching both of you dance around this whole thing was starting to get painful.” She says walking in all the way.

“I can’t believe you knew this whole time and didn’t say a word to me. You never even hinted at it.” He shakes his head at her as she comes to sit in front of both of you.

“Go easy on her, Teyam. I wouldn’t let her. But she was also a huge help to me during the pregnancy. She’s part of the reason we’ve been doing as well as we have. If not for Kiri, Veyä and I would be in a much rougher situation than we are.” You explain to him.

Neteyam’s expression softens listening to you. He can’t be upset with Kiri really. It wasn’t her responsibility to tell him. Plus, she was there for you when he wasn’t. If anything, he felt like he owed her his gratitude.

“Thanks.”

She playfully rolls her eyes at him, “Yeah, yeah, skxawng.”

…

Living the domestic life with Neteyam was an adjustment for all of you. Neteyam was eager to step up and step into the role of father for Veyä and you had to learn to take a step back and let him handle some things on his own just like you had to. But there were sometimes where Veyä just wouldn’t settle down for him no matter what he tried. But as soon as he would hand her off to you, she’d calm almost instantly. It broke his heart. All he wanted was for her to feel connected to him. Safe with him. One night, you could hear him sniffle softly next to you on the sleep mat. It made your heart heavy for him. You did your best to offer him some comfort holding onto him and pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“You’re doing a good job, Teyam. It’s just going to take a little time, that’s all.”

He’d turn and wrap his arm around you kissing the top of your head. He wouldn’t say anything, but he’d nod his head lightly listening to your reminder of patience.

Things finally took a turn for the better when you let Neteyam convince you to leave him alone with Veyä for a few hours while you went out to bathe and gather some fruits.

“Are you sure, Teyam?” you ask feeling flutters of apprehension dance in your chest.

“Of course. I think this will be good for us. Isn’t that right, my little tanhì?” he says cuddling Veyä in close and tickling her a bit making her laugh. “Just trust me.”

You know how much this means to him. And you trusted him, of course. “Alright. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Yes, yes, now go relax and we’ll be here when you get back.” He smiles at you while he gently holds a hand on your back to guide you out of your kelku. You laugh a bit at his antics and roll your eyes. “Fine, fine. I’m going. I’ll be back soon.” You say bending down to give Veyä a kiss on the forehead. “I love you. Be good for your sempu.” You straighten up and give Neteyam a peck on the lips before finally walking off to the pond to bathe.

“Now, how shall we spend our time, hm?” he smiles down at Veyä as her eyes watch him back curiously.

He walks back into your kelku and lays Veyä down on her back and he lays on his side looking at her. He wiggles a finger at her which she reaches out for. The unrelenting baby strength of her grip on his finger makes him huff out a small laugh.

“Strong girl. No surprise there, though.”

She uses her other hand to grab his finger and bring it to her mouth to nibble on.

“You know, you come from a great line of warriors. A line of toruk maktos and fierce fighters. And your sa’nu…she’s just amazing all around. I just know you’ll grow up to be just as beautiful and smart and tough as her.”

She continues to busy herself with chewing on Neteyam’s finger, but he hopes that his words will reach her somewhere deep inside and that she’ll carry that sentiment with her. When she finally tears her mouth off of him and looks at his face, she stares blankly at him for a minute or two. Neteyam doesn’t say anything or make any attempt to break her focus. After she’s decided on whatever was plaguing her tiny mind, she cracks a big, bright, toothless smile up at him.

Neteyam feels his heart squeeze in his chest. It’s as if he’s been hit with an arrow in the best way possible. How could something so small have such a massive impact on him this way? He can feel himself crumbling right on the spot. He knows that he would happily lay down his life if it meant protecting this tiny little life. Truly, is there anything as undoing as a daughter?

Once her smile drops, she lets out a big yawn.

“Looks like my princess needs her rest. Here.” He says picking her up and holding her flush against his chest. He lies down rubbing a hand up and down her back gently. The steady rise and fall of his chest while he breathes soothes Veyä into a quick slumber. Her tiny tail curls in towards her body while she buries her face in his chest. Neteyam dares not to move right now. He knows the repercussions that come with waking a sleeping baby. Plus, he wants to enjoy this moment for as long as possible. And before he knows it, sleep comes for him too.

The sight you’re met with when you return home completely melts you. The love of your life sleeping peacefully with your child curled up gleefully on his chest. Soft snores coming from both of them and their ears flicking back and forth sporadically.

‘They even sleep alike.’ You think to yourself trying to stifle a giggle. Silently, you place the basket of your fruit in the corner and sit on your knees in front of Neteyam and Veyä. As much as you hate to break up this touching scene, you know that it’s time to feed Veyä again. You carefully lift her from Neteyam’s chest making his eyes shoot open immediately to see who had dared to disturb his bonding with his precious baby. He’s relieved to see that it’s just you back home, though.

“Welcome home. I must’ve fallen asleep.” He rasps out still full of sleep. “I see. Looks like things went well.” You say smoothing Veyä’s hair where it had gotten a little messy.

“Of course, it did. I told you we’d be fine.” He finally sits up and rests his elbows on his knees.

“Yes, yes. My mighty warrior is quite the amazing father.” You lightly tease kissing his cheek making him flush a bit.

From that day on, you had both gotten much more acclimated to your new roles and lives as parents and building your family together. There would even be times where the roles would reverse and Veyä would only want her father. Neteyam loved to tease you about it to no end. You never minded it, though. It actually made you indescribably happy to see how attached your daughter had grown to him. Especially considering you weren’t sure either of them would ever even know about each other. So, if it meant that sometimes she would prefer her father over you, you were more than willing to live with that.

…

“Teyam, I don’t know about this. Are you sure they won’t be mad?” you ask fidgeting in your spot next to Neteyam.

“Are you kidding? All my mother has been talking about for months is how excited she is for grandchildren. They’re going to be happy. Trust me.” He says taking your hand in his and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Okay.” You sigh.

You had let Neteyam and Kiri convince you to tell Jake and Neytiri the truth about Veyä. To say you were nervous was an understatement. You were essentially the reason that their plans for Neteyam and Layao and the future of the clan fell through. They were like family to you and the last thing you wanted was to make them angry or disappointed in you.

You anxiously readjust your sling with Veyä on your chest as you walk with Neteyam into his parents’ kelku. You’re thankful to see that it’s only the two of them home right now. This was going to be hard enough to get through without an audience.

“Well, well, hey there stranger. Look at you all grown up with a kid of your own now!” Jake says approaching you with a smile and wrapping you in one of his famous dad hugs.

“Our deepest sympathies about Aykxo” Neytiri says to you.

You squeeze Neteyam’s hand hoping that he’ll say something because you feel as if a palulukan has your tongue right now.

“Actually, that’s partially why we’re here.” He starts looking between both of his parents who now were eyeing you both in confusion. “Mom, dad, say hello to your granddaughter. Veyä is my child.” He states proudly.

Silence.

When you’re finally able to bring your eyes back to look at their faces, there is shock and confusion and some other third emotion that you’re not quite able to make out. Somehow, though, Neytiri looks less surprised than Jake.

“Wait, your kid? But that’s not possible, right?” he asks in disbelief. He looks at you and Neyteyam waiting for one of you to answer.

“It’s true, she is Neteyam’s child. I was never with Aykxo.” You finally speak even though it’s barely audible even in the silence.

“I—” Jake huffs out a breath cutting his own sentence short while he processes this new revelation.

“Ma’Jake…” Neytiri speaks up and gives him a look. It’s the kind of look that communicates so much without any words. The kind of look that you learn to understand after years and years of being with each other.

“Let’s talk a bit. Outside.” He says to Neteyam specifically.

“Yes, sir.” He says already readying himself for the lecture he was surely in for. “I’ll be right back.” He says gripping your hand one last time before he follows his dad out of the kelku. The silence left behind between you and Neytiri somehow feels even heavier on your shoulders than before. Her eyes scan you up and down and she tilts her head a bit at the sight of your baby.

“May I?” she asks gently holding her hands out. You’re more than a little surprised, but you nod anyway. Scooping Veyä out of your sling and placing her in Neytiri’s hands, she looks the infant over carefully seemingly examining her every feature.

Clearly, she recognizes the similarities when a warm smile crosses her face.

“She looks just like Neteyam did as a baby.” She remarks.

“The pattern on her head is just like his.” You add

“It is.” Neytiri brushes her nose against Veyä’s and she squeals with joy flailing her little limbs in her hold. “She is beautiful.”

“I have to admit, I was worried you would be upset.”

“Oh, how could I ever be upset to have such a precious grandchild? The Great Mother makes no mistakes. Besides, I already had a suspicion. You’ll come to learn this, but a mother knows.”

Neteyam and Jake come back inside and Neteyam immediately retakes his place next to you holding your hand. You raise your brows slightly at him silently asking him if everything was okay and he offers you a small smile in response.

“Alright, let me get a look at the little ball of sunshine.” Jake says walking over to Neytiri and smiling down at the baby. “Hey there, I’m your grandpa.” He says letting her grab his finger.

“Whew! Feel that grip! She’s a Sully, alright.” He laughs.

…

The next month felt like it flew by in a whirlwind. Neteyam moved in to your kelku, you introduced Veyä to the rest of his family, and did a lot of explaining. In just a matter of weeks, life as you’ve known it has been completely turned on its head.

Neteyam had insisted on adding one of the beads from his braids to Veyä’s song cord. The gesture was sweet enough to bring a tear to your eye

Jake and Neytiri loved being grandparents. Jake would fly Veyä around like something called an airplane. You didn’t really get it, but she loved it so that’s all that mattered. It surprised you at first how accepting his family had been of your situation, but at the same time, you were beyond grateful for their support.

Tonight, Jake and Neytiri offered to keep Veyä for the night so that you and Neteyam could have “date night”. It’s supposed to be a chance for the two of you to spend time alone together without having to worry about the baby. It was a nice gesture, but admittedly, you were apprehensive about spending a whole night away from her. You hadn’t spent so much time away from her before and it was a worrisome feeling, but they insisted it would be good for you. Plus, Neteyam seemed keen to have you to himself for a night so you agreed.

“Alright, Neteyam has his throat comm in case there’s an emergency and you need to reach us.” You explain trying to stall as long as you can.

“Yawne, it will be fine. It is only one night.” Neteyam says lightly peeling you away from Kiri who was holding your baby.

“We know how to reach you. Now, go have fun. Relax a little.” She says.

“Okay, okay. You’re right. But we’ll be back first thing in the morning.” You say caressing Veyä’s cheek with your finger.

“Say bye sa’nu!” Kiri gushes while waving Veyä’s arm at you.

“Thanks again. See you in the morning!” Neteyam waves goodbye to his family as you both leave. You do your best to hold it together, but a single tear still manages to escape from your eye. You try to quickly wipe it away before Neteyam notices, but of course he catches it.

“Oh, come now. Am I that miserable to be around?” he jokes at you trying to make you laugh. And it works.

“You know it’s not that.”

“Well, I think I have something that will cheer you up.” He says calling his ikran over.

You squint at him suspiciously wondering what he had planned for you for the night. He laughs a little to himself and holds his hand out to you to help you mount his ikran. “Just trust me.”

You sit in front of him during the ride while one of his arms holds you close around your waist. While you’re soaring across the night sky, Neteyam does a particularly steep dive making you reflexively hold on to his arm tight and let out a small yelp of surprise. He chuckles seeing your reaction, but he also secretly loved how you held onto him. Once he levels back out, you playfully smack his arm and he kisses your shoulder in apology.

He finally lands at a clearing near a waterfall where you can see the moon and stars more clearly than back home. The light of the moon dances across the water and you notice that there’s an assortment of bioluminescent flower petals scattered around a small mat on the ground next to the water.

“Neteyam…what is this?” your eyes are full of wonder as he helps you down.

“This is our date. I know it’s not much, but I thought it was pretty at least.” He sheepishly guides you over to the mat in the middle of the flowers.

“Are you kidding me? Neteyam, this is beautiful. You did all of this yourself?”

“Well, I got the idea from my dad.” He admits.

When you sit down, Neteyam runs back over to his ikran to unload a small basket that had some pxir, meats, and utumauti. He runs back over to you to set all the food down and you smile at his endearing display.

“You know these are my favorite.”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be complete without your utumauti.”

The smile on your face could crack your face in half. Suddenly, you notice Neteyam seem to become very nervous about something. His tail thumps lightly at the ground behind him and his ears were flicking wildly.

“Truth is, there is something else I wanted to do tonight, too.” He speaks up, but his eyes have a hard time staying focused on you. You tilt your head at him waiting for him to continue. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he goes on. He comes to rest in front of you and kneels on one knee. He fidgets around with the satchel on his hip and pulls out a small bracelet to hold in his palm in front of you. At the center of the detailed braiding is an iridescent purple pearl surrounded by multiple smaller gemstones.

Your mouth falls open a bit and your eyes jump between the small piece of jewelry and his face.

“I know that this may seem redundant, but it only feels right to still do this…I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I love our child and the life that we have together. No one else knows me like you do and no one else can leave me breathless like you. Every night, I thank Eywa for the privilege of holding you close. I never want to be without you ever again. So, will you be my mate?”

The tears fall fast and steady down your cheeks while Neteyam pours his heart out to you. It feels like all of your emotions are stuck in a ball in your throat preventing you from speaking properly. All you can manage to do is nod your head at him. The light of his smile rivals that of the moon right now. He takes your wrist in his hand and fits the bracelet around you. Your hand covers your mouth to stop the small sob that tries to escape.

He brushes away your tears with his thumb. “Was it too much?”

You quickly shake your head at him. “No, it was perfect, Teyam. I’m just really happy.”

His arms wrap around you and you bury your face into his chest smiling to yourself. When you look up at him, his smile still hasn’t left his face. Your lift your face to his to kiss him and he’s more than happy to return the gesture. His hold on you tightens and you breathe out a small moan against his lips. The sound sends a shiver through Neteyam’s body. He tries testing the waters by parting his lips slightly, but before he can lick your lips, your tongue is already invading his mouth eagerly. He can’t help but smile into the kiss.

You’re not sure if it’s the emotions getting to your head or the overall atmosphere around you right now, but you feel this need to have his hands on you. You grab his hands and guide them to your hips and you can feel how he’s putting forth all his effort to show some kind of restraint with you. You press your body more into his to let him know that he doesn’t need to hold back. He finally starts to get the hint when you feel his tail sneak its way to wrap around your thigh.

“Yawne…” he says against your lips. It’s meant to be something of a warning, but the way he growls it out makes all the blood rush to your head and make you dizzy.

“Yes, sayrìp?” you ask still not taking your lips off his.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I know you’ll make sure I finish.” You look up at him feigning innocence and he just smirks at you.

“You are something else, you know that?”

“Of course. That’s why you love me.”

He pulls you into his lap and rests his hands on your hips. The gesture is familiar and oh so missed. “I suppose you have a point.” He says starting to kiss your neck and lightly rock your hips back and forth on top of him. Your head lulls to the side opening yourself up to him more.

“Just don’t get me pregnant again yet.” You half-joke.

He chuckles lowly to himself, “No promises.”

“Teyam…” it’s your turn to warn him, but it comes out more as a moan than anything, spurring him on even more.

“You’re so pretty pregnant. Carrying my baby. So beautiful” he halfway mumbles while he carries on scenting you. It feels like he won’t be satisfied until he’s completely drowned you in his scent. Eywa, you missed this. Your mind is telling you to be careful, but it’s powerless to stop your body from naturally pressing more into him and moving your hips. Neteyam’s hands run up and down your waist and hips and thighs, only stopping when he lets one wander between your legs. There was no way of getting around how soaked you were right now and he loves it.

“See, look how ready your body already is for me.” He says licking a long stripe up your pulse point and letting himself get drunk off your scent.

You can’t deny it, your body trembled with anticipation under his touch. And you make no efforts to stop him when his fingers slip past your loincloth and drag themselves through your slick.

You gasp when he slips a finger inside of you and curls it in just the right way that he remembers you love. It feeds the carnal part of your brain that wants to submit to him completely. And so you do.

“Ahh…Nete…”

His hold on you tightens and a low growl rumbles in his throat.

“Fuck, I missed hearing you” he says picking you up and laying you on your back still keeping his fingers inside of you. He quickly finds that one special spot that only he could reach and it makes you throw your head back in lust. Even after all this time, he still knew your body so well. But you still knew him too.

You tease him by just lightly dragging your fangs over his neck. With his lips right next to your ear, you can hear clearly how his breath stutters. Neteyam loved for you to mark him and stake your claim over him and now you could without restraint. The slow drag of your teeth against his skin made goosebumps appear all over his body. The waiting was torture. It makes his cock twitch with need.

He decides that he’s had enough of your loincloth being in his way of what he really wanted. He only pulls his fingers out of you long enough to slide your tewng and his off. He palms his fully hard length while he drinks in the sight of you for the first time in so so long. It’s almost like a compulsion when he dips his face down to bury it between your thighs and his tongue swipes across your clit.

Your whole body jumps at the contact. He presses messy, open mouth kisses to your cunt, sucking lightly on your swollen clit. “You taste even better than I remember” he kind of mutters to himself between devouring you like a man starved.

“Mmm! Neteyam! I’m gonna cum!”

He hums out a response with his tongue buried inside of you while he strokes himself faster. When he swirls his tongue around, he swipes a spot that fully makes your thighs try to squeeze together around his head.

“Ah! I’m cumming!” you moan just as it finally crashes into you. Your whole body seizes and Neteyam greedily laps up all of your overflowing arousal while you ride out your high against his face. Your hips buck and jerk against him as you slowly try to come down. It’s easier said than done when Neteyam won’t stop licking up every last drop of you. From the inside of your thighs to directly from the source, his mouth is all over you.

“Nete…n-need you…please”

He’s just about at the edge of his own patience by now, too. He sits back on the balls of his feet to line himself up with you so he can slide in slowly.

You’re not used to the feeling anymore. It’s unfamiliar, but at the same time, it feels like finally sliding the last piece of a puzzle into place. There’s this sense of ‘oh, this fits perfectly here’. Neteyam clings to whatever shred of sense he still had left to make sure he doesn’t do too much too fast with you. It feels like you lose more of your mind with every inch he sinks deeper into you until he’s fully bottomed out in you. He holds himself still so you can adjust to the feeling again, but also because he’s afraid he might cum too quickly if he doesn’t take a second to take a deep breath or two.

Your arms fold around his neck pulling him in closer and you can see how the bottom half of his face is glistening still covered in you. His eyes watch you looking for any signs of discomfort, but also just because he loves to watch your face when he first slides in you. You offer him a small nod letting him know that you’re fine and he takes his time dragging out of you and pushing back in. It’s a slow roll of his hips back and forth into yours. Long, loving, powerful thrusts that press into your sweet spot perfectly.

“Mmf!...Ha-ahh…right there” you whimper out.

All the sweet sounds spilling from your lips is too much for Neteyam. He can already feel his knot starting to grow.

“Shit…” he says under his breath. He thinks about it for a while in his own mind. He thinks about knotting you again and thinks about the eye-rolling pleasure it would give both of you. He thinks about getting you pregnant again. Using your cunt however he pleases to breed you over and over again to ensure it takes. Filling you until it’s literally having to spill back out of you. There’s not a single thing he wants more right now than to stuff his knot into you and let nature take its course.

Thankfully, he’s able to remain logical enough to stop himself from doing so. He knows it would be unwise, to say the least, to get you pregnant again so soon. But fuck, you make it hard when you’re looking at him like that and digging your nails into his skin from how hard you’re holding onto him while he fucks into you.

“Ah! Ah! Great Mother! I’m cumming again!” your eyebrows scrunch together as your face contorts in ecstasy when your orgasm takes you for the second time tonight even stronger than the last one.

“Oh, fuck, me too” he says gritting his teeth still struggling against his body’s primal need to fill you. At the very last second, he pulls out and watches as his seed spills onto your lower abdomen instead.

Heavy panting breaths fill the air as you both come down. You look at the mess he’s made on your stomach and shoot him a tired smile.

“Smart man.” You say making you both laugh.

“Just consider yourself lucky that my willpower is so strong.” He responds.

For the rest of the time that you’re there, the two of you alternate between eating the food that Neteyam brought and taking your time relearning each others’ bodies. It feels familiar and comfortable just like it used to, but now, you don’t have to worry about hiding.

…time skip…

“Sa’nu!” your daughter’s small voice calls out to you as she eagerly runs to your side. You sweep her up in your embrace and spin her around while wild giggles jump from her throat.

“Yes, ma’ite?” you say while snuggling her closely against you.

“How did you and sempu meet?” her voice is filled with innocence and her big eyes blink at you.

You cock an eyebrow at her, “Well now, where did that question come from?” Your daughter was only 4 years old, but in all of her years, she’s never inquired about you and your husband’s relationship. It was never really necessary.

“Well, Ipxpa said that Uncle Lo’ak and Aunt Layao told her that they met because of you and sempu. But how did you meet?” she inquires genuinely. You chuckle a little to yourself finding her curiosity endearing.

At the same moment, your husband walks into your kelku. “I heard my name?”

“Sempu!” you watch your daughter run and throw herself into your husband’s arms and nearly knock him back.

“Woah, did you grow even more since I left this morning? I swear you’re getting bigger every time I turn around.” His fingers tickle at her sides making her squeal and squirm in his grip.

“How was the hunting trip, sayrìp?” you say making your way to his side so he could place a light kiss on your forehead.

“It went well. We have plenty of meat to get us through several weeks. But, more importantly, how are you, ma love?” he asks looking down at you still holding your daughter in his arms.

“I am fine. We are all fine.” You reassure him holding your hands against your slightly protruding lower abdomen. “Your son has a hunger that would rival your own.”

A proud smile crosses Neteyam’s lips and his hand lands on top of yours. “He is strong. That is good.”

You smile contently feeling your unborn baby wiggle at his father’s touch.

“Our daughter is wondering how we met.”

He raises his would-be eyebrows at you, “Oh really? Well, that is a fun story.”

“Oooh I wanna hear it! Please, sa’nu!” Veyä clutches her hands together and pouts her lip at you.

You throw your head back relenting, “Fine, fine. Come, sit.” You instruct her and she worms her way out her father’s grasp and sits cross-legged on the floor in front of your sleeping mat. Thinking about the full story, you realize that you’ll have to leave out a few details that she doesn’t need to know.

Your husband holds your hand to help guide you down to the ground on your mat.

“Well, it was a long time ago. Long before you were born ma’ite.” You begin and her face lights up with wonder. “Your sempu was in love with a different girl!” she gasps dramatically and looks at her father full of scandal making you laugh.

“Hey now, if you’re going to tell the story, then tell it right!”

“Fine. Your father and I had been in love our whole lives, but we had to keep it a secret because he was supposed to be with someone else.”

The three of you settle in so that you can listen to the story as you recount it fondly until you notice Veyä’s eyes starting to droop.

“Look’s like someone needs a nap” you say pausing the story.

“Noooo, please keep going sa’nu!” she protests even though she’s clearly struggling to hold her eyes open.

“We can finish when you wake up, tanhì” Neteyam says scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his chest. You could tell he about ready to settle in for some rest too. You figure you might as well join them and finally rest your exhausted body. You scoot in to Neteyam’s side while Veyä curls up on his chest just like when she was a baby and Neteyam holds a hand around both of you and kisses both of your heads while you all slowly drift off to sleep.  

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[nipuni]

Doctor Who status report! Writing these I'm realizing I only ever feel compelled to share my opinions on media when they are positive lmao makes for rather boring commentary probably!! but I only care to share the things I love, I would be a lousy critic 😆

We are half way through S7 and I can say now that S6 was a big improvement from S5 for us! It was really fun! we have been rating every episode and keeping season average scores and S5 was the lowest we ranked so far out of all but it was still enjoyable honestly! Someone in the comments in one of my reports mentioned that each doctor's first season is usually their worst one and I'm also noticing this! I think Ten's first season was his lowest ranked out of his three for us too even though all his run was super high. Matt seems more comfortable in his doctor's portrayal by now and he is also more goofy which I personally always love ����

S6's arc had us terrified and puzzled the whole time it was very engaging!! and some of the episodes were devastating like "The girl who waited" and just everything about River Song always, The Silence creatures are so unnerving and cool and it had a ton of really classic episodes with great concepts. We were kind of disappointed with "the doctor's wife" episode though I'm a bit mad about it because I feel it had some great ideas but the way some elements were handled ruined it for us (mainly the Tardis's whole characterization and the Doctor's reactions to the situation felt so flat and out of character it was weird) so much wasted potential! but overall it was a great season!

Then S7 so far we watched up to "The bells of saint john" and our favourite has been "The angels take Manhattan" we love the concept of the Weeping angels and this one was terrifying and back to their original lore! and the ending was so unexpected! We also met Clara and I love her too honestly I'm terrible at rating companions because I love them all I think they all bring something new and special to the story I end up loving everyone 😭 We have seven episodes left with Eleven ahhhh time to suffer another regeneration soon!!

About the writing I think as we watched we grew more used to the differences and they became less jarring, though when I think back to the RTD era I feel I loved it because of the writing while now I sometimes I feel that I love it despite the writing, if that makes any sense? I still do love it but it feels like wrestling with Moffat a bit! lmao. He gets a bit repetitive and too on the nose and ..weird about women and overly grandiose at times still but now we know to expect it 🤣

Also another unrelated observation but we feel that Eleven seems younger than Ten in many ways. I know their personalities are supposed to change and they are not necessarily linear but it's something curious we both noticed! And Eleven is such a clingy soft little man!! baby!! very cute!! I love him I'm excited to see how the change to Twelve is going to feel!! I have no idea what to expect from Twelve I'm so curious!!

We are consuming this series so fast and we don't want it to end!! 😭 I have such a gigantic backlog of art I want to make about it by now, I keep thinking of ideas as I go and I don't have the time to draw them yet because of work!! AAAAA the moment I meet the last of my current deadlines it's over for you all!!

Anyway that was very long I'll go make dinner and watch some more 🥰 I hope you all have a good night and a great start of the week!