#and then she keeps talking about ice cream over and over again

[thefreakandthehair]

I just wanna see that smile

wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-compliant injury/recovery, hospital setting, getting together, (brief and inferred mutual) pining, first kiss

a/n: happy (belated) birthday to my pal, @firefly-party! kei drew this piece last year and it was one of the first artworks we talked about when we became friends. this series has continued to live in my brain ever since, so I decided to write a little something in the universe!

Eddie woke up on March 26th, 1986 and Steve’s waited patiently for this moment ever since. 

Well, patient is a misnomer— he’d waited quietly to anyone not named Robin or Dustin. Robin, because she knows him too well and there’s no point in trying to hide anything from her and Dustin, because he’d apparently grown up overnight and pieced together that Steve sitting at Eddie’s bedside and holding his fucking hand every time he waltzed into the room meant something. 

Or maybe it was when Steve gave Eddie all of his rings back, sliding them carefully onto his shaking fingers with a comforting smile. 

Or maybe when Eddie sat up unassisted for the first time and Steve nearly hit the ceiling, bracing him in a panic as if all of his stitches and staples would burst with the tiny movement he’d been working toward in physical therapy. 

Hell, maybe it was Steve taking over some of Eddie’s care for himself, washing his hair and braiding it because the staff at Hawkins Memorial are doing nothing more than the bare minimum to make sure they don’t get sued, or even more frightening, reamed out by the new duo of Hopper and Wayne again. Either way, his hair was making Steve’s own scalp itchy. 

Dustin never tells Steve what it was exactly that tipped him off but whatever it was, it’s enough for Dustin to give Steve the floor when Eddie’s getting ready to discharge back home. And that’s how, exactly two months later to the day from Eddie waking up, Steve enters Eddie’s otherwise empty room armed with a special treat in the form of milkshakes to find Eddie pouring over an unfortunately familiar stack of papers. 

“NDA?” Steve asks, nodding at the papers in Eddie’s lap. He’s upright, fully dressed in the black sweatpants Jeff brought by and a cut off Metallica tee shirt, bandages around his stomach and neck. 

Eddie mutters as he reads under his breath, eyes flitting across the page. 

“How the fuck do they expect any of us common folk to understand a fucking word of this? Hereby? Wherein? Hitherto? What fucking year did I wake up in, man?”

“Yeah, I think the whole point is that you don’t read what you’re signing but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Steve huffs a small laugh through his nose as he steps carefully around Eddie’s crutches. “You may as well just sign it because if you don’t, they’ll forge it anyway. Now finish signing your life rights away so you can have this milkshake with me.” 

Eddie perks up, looking away from the mess of papers and smiling up at Steve with a smile so genuine, it punches the air out of his lungs. He keeps looking at him like this, like Steve’s a breath of fresh air, like he's someone Eddie wants to have around. 

Steve isn’t sure what to do with that look yet, but he’s sure glad it’s there. 

“Celebration milkshakes? Is this a freedom gift?” Eddie signs the NDA quickly and sets the pen down on the bed next to him. 

“It sure is. Figured this could make up for all those lame popsicles from the cafeteria.” 

The mattress creaks as Steve sits down on the edge, just to the side of the railing, and hands Eddie the strawberry treat. Their fingers graze, Steve’s chilled and Eddie’s warm. His hand is still a little shaky, trembling as he takes hold of the cup, but they’re warm and warm means alive. 

Eddie’s hand can tremble for the rest of his goddamn life so long as it’s always warm. 

They each take a sip, smooth ice cream slurping up their straws, and after a moment, Eddie sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m actually sort of worried about leaving?” 

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, looking down at Eddie’s rings glinting beneath the offensive fluorescent lights above them.

“What are you worried about?”

“Uh, well, I did almost die. And the town still wishes I did. It’s a lot easier to make those dreams a reality outside of these walls, y’know? And I’m uh…” Steve watches as Eddie takes a breath and Steve suddenly misses the early days when Eddie was connected to the heart rate monitor. 

“You’re…?” Steve presses, sipping his milkshake again to appear casual. 

“I see you all the time here. Guess I just don’t want that to change.” 

Steve’s heart skips a beat, clattering in his chest and pounding at his ribs, desperately trying to crack him right open and run to the man who’s claimed it. Eddie watches him with cautious eyes, opens his mouth to say something else but Steve cuts him off before he can take it back. 

“Why do you think that’d change? Forest Hills is a lot closer than this shithole, and you won’t be kept under lock and key. And as for the first thing, well, Wayne and Nancy have a lot in common and I have a bat loaded up with nails in the trunk of my car.” Steve rests his free hand on Eddie’s knee. “No one's gonna fuck with you. Don’t worry about that.” 

“You sound a little cocky there, Stevie.” Eddie lifts one eyebrow, glancing from Steve’s hand up to his eyes. “Ready to fight for my honor or something?”

“Yep.” 

He hadn’t brought the milkshakes intending to use them as props, but he’s glad he has something to do to fill the space as Eddie watches him with questioning eyes. As he slurps through the straw, grating noise still preferable over the awkward silence, Eddie’s pinched expression turns softer, realization dawning between the stark white walls of the hospital and the pink ice cream in both of their hands. 

“You’re serious.” Eddie says. 

“Took you that long to figure that out?” Steve teases. 

“I’ve been a little busy with learning how to breathe and walk again. Y’know, just little things.” Eddie rolls his eyes with that same fond smile, free hand lacing its fingers through Steve’s. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll see you just as much outside of this prison as I have inside of it?” 

Steve shrugs. “Probably even more, honestly. There are no visiting hours at Wayne’s, and it’s not like I have a job to rush off to these days. You’re stuck with me, Ed. At least for as long as you want me around.” 

Eddie snorts, unceremoniously scoffing in Steve’s face as if in disbelief.

“Don’t make promises like that. What happens when I never want you to leave?” 

The air shifts, growing heavier as they find themselves leaning closer, two satellites orbiting one another by nothing but gravitational pull. 

Steve’s not sure who actually closes the gap, but he finds himself with his lips pressed against Eddie’s— sweet, chilled, a little chapped but smiling against his. Months of waiting, of hoping that he’d get this opportunity, come to a deafening crescendo and it takes all of his discipline to not push. Instead, they pull apart and Steve smiles, tucking loose hair behind Eddie’s ear. 

“That’s easy. I’d just never leave.”

fun fact: kei, I wrote your birthday down in my calendar as the 28th for some reason, a solid ten days late, so know that this was planned from the get-go but was just a tad bit late.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part three

part four: say the one thing i've been wanting

Steve had been dreading actually talking about this with Robin. He hadn't wanted to put her in a position to feel like she had to come out or stop using him as a plus one to industry parties to fuel rumors. Even as he and Eddie pretty publicly dated Robin's agent and most tabloids still thought Robin and Steve were a couple some even going as far as insinuating Eddie was Steve's side piece or their third.

"Steve, you're kind of scaring me, what's going on?"

"Birdie, I'm only telling you this because I can't not anymore but I want you to know nothing is your fault and I literally don't need you to do anything. I just need to be able to talk to my best friend and in order to do that I kind of have to get through this uncomfortable part," Steve answered.

"Anything, Steve. Whatever you need," Robin said.

"Okay, so Eddie and I kind of broke up because Eddie assumed I was cheating on him with Nance when she came to visit earlier this year. He got really upset and kind of blocked me from any way of contacting him so there was no way to clear anything up after he left but he definitely assumed I was cheating on him and he wrote that fucking song and I just need to talk to you without leaving out this really huge massive reason why Eddie left and why I still feel like total shit," Steve rushed to cover the main points.

"Steve, hun," Nance comforted. She probably guessed something else was going on but had been understanding enough not to press Steve for more.

"Steve, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," Robin started catastrophizing.

"Can you please stop saying my name. It's kind of freaking me out," Steve joked, "Robs, it's totally not your fault at all. It was a shitty situation I could have handled better and so could Eddie but there's really nothing to do about it know because I can't explain it to him and he clearly doesn't want me to so we are moving on, all right?" Steve attempted to keep the energy light.

"If that's what you want, sure babe," Robin said.

"I just want to stop going down Tik Tok rabbit holes of Eddie's stupid song without being able to complain to you about how fucking tired I am of not being able to do anything," Steve said, "and also I want so much ice cream and a really stupid TV marathon with my best girls and maybe roast Eddie's new song a little bit."

Nancy had already pulled up doordash and they were soon on their way to eating a smorgasbord of snacks and ice cream while watching reality TV and eventually dissolving into a karaoke session initially overdramatically singing along to Eddie's new single and ending with some old school Taylor (her version of course). Steve was feeling better than he had in a long time and started getting out of the fog he'd been in since Eddie had left.

Eventually, Steve started answering his agent's emails again and submitting tape for different roles. He'd gotten a part in a small indie film in Italy and Steve was pretty ready to take it. It was an interesting part, it was literally away from everyone he knew, the director was kind of weird and didn't let his cast use socials while filming and encouraged only phone calls and old school letters to really get into the period mindset. It was honestly kind of a perfect next project and it helped that the script was actually kind of great.

"As long as you aren't going because you're running away, Steve. You know I don't want you to leave and you shouldn't feel like you have to," Robin said as he was starting to pack his bags.

"I really like the project. It's a good script and I get to get out of my own head for a while. Kind of perfect honestly. The shoot is pretty short its only like four weeks so I won't be gone that long and you and Nancy can keep holing up in my apartment without me getting in the way!" Steve answered.

"You're never in the way, dingus," Robin nudged him and then brought him into a hug, "we'll just miss you kiddo."

"I'll miss you too, Bobbie. Now let me go so I can pack." Steve pulled away with a bigger smile than he'd had in weeks.

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

#steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie #don't worry robin will fix it #angst #angst with a happy ending #rockstar eddie #actor steve #was it over then ficlet

[bloodiegawz]

ROUND TWO BABY GIVE IT UP FOR ROUND TWO !!

Keyper will once again be participating in the Kirby OC Tournament! ( @kirbyoctournament ) Much to his dismay... pray for his antisocial soul. As such, he will also be open for asks and interactions!

Submission and character information below the cut- it's a bit of a copy/paste from his last one but there have been edits :3

Keyper (17, he/him)

Reference Images:

(The other OC in these drawings is Rhodo! She will not be included in my submission but is Keyper's only friend, so she's often seen with him. They live together in Raisin Ruins.)

Notes on Personality:

Although not shy, Keyper is very antisocial, if only for the fact that he doesn't know how to interact with others and is accustomed to being alone. His reclusive nature is more of a habit than a choice, though he'd like to (and does) say otherwise. He puts his needs first always, concerned with his own well-being as a means of survival.

He doesn't like to talk about himself, but he has a bit of an ego and will brag about his own abilities over others- usually right before overestimating himself and absolutely eating dirt at whatever he was doing. If someone is having trouble with something, he will likely tease or taunt them and not help. On the flipside, he's easily upset when things don't go his way- much like his grouchy demeanor would suggest. Generally, Keyper comes off as a snarky, moody teenager, motivated by little other than anything with immediate utility.

Despite himself, he tends to gravitate towards those like him- whether they be lonely or simply surviving but especially if they are struggling in their problems. He feels a need to get these people on their feet if nothing else, knowing the hardships of being stressed and underprepared.

In rare cases, when confronted with something unexpected (be it anywhere from getting lost in a new place to emotional vulnerability), Keyper's immediate response is fear and anxiety. He doesn't like unfamiliar situations and will try to get out of them as soon as possible, or otherwise shuts down.

Backstory and Lore:

Keyper is a hybrid Key Dee/Hunter Scarfy. An odd combination for sure, and even stranger is his role in this dynamic: he watches over a key that seemingly has no door. Though he doesn't know what it does, he has an attachment to it and values it even more than himself. He has no home and by now no parents, living in the sands of Raisin Ruins for all of his life. He took up bounty hunting as a way to live, moving from town to town to take on whatever jobs he can get his claws on. Many people reject his offers to work because he's so young, though...

Other fun facts:

His favorite foods are bread, apples, and honey. On the contrary he despises most sugary desserts like ice cream or cakes.

Uncomfortable in super crowded areas and prefers to be with just a few people if being alone is not an option, a role that is nowadays taken by Rhodo.

Has not had a proper bath in one million years (maybe like one or two months).

Prides himself on his claws and will do anything to keep them clean and sharp, even if the rest of his hygiene isn't maintained so carefully. Because of this, he'll opt for using a knife rather than his claws for fighting.

He is easily distracted by shiny objects. Please do not take advantage of this fact, he will be very upset.

His bag contains multitudes, a possibly comedic amount of things to carry everywhere on a regular basis, but incredibly useful. Many people suspect there's some kind of enchantment on it, but when asked, he shrugs and says he "just found it".

Despite having floating paws, he prefers to keep them close and won't reach out very far with them.

His eyesight is much worse with his single eye rather than the false ones, which is something he's self-conscious about.

Is colorblind (deuteranopia).

#gawzdrawz #kirby series #kirby oc tournament #kirby: keyper #kirby: rhodo #kirby oc #uhhh i think thats all my tags #anyway yea :) hes back #sorry i dont have time to do more for this post !!!! #i have... so many things to do.... haah

[dyna-myght]

I think my great aunt is using again.

#she came in w her hair clipped all crazy #and then she keeps talking about ice cream over and over again #and in general she just seems really fidgety and twitching

[desperate-gay]

LEAH WILLIAMSON SMUT WHERE YOURE DATING ANOTHER FAMOUS MALE FOOTBALLER BUT HES CHEATING ON YOU SO YOU CHEAT WITH HER AND YOU SEND HIM THE TAPE. Is that too much😳😳😳

Sharing Is Caring

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

Mason Mount spotted kissing new girl down the streets of Manchester

Once Leah saw the photos surfacing on every social media app, she immediately began to text you. Asking if you were okay or needed anything, but you didn’t respond. You still haven’t and it’s already been a day which worries Leah, so she immediately goes to the store, grabs all of your favorite snacks and beverages, and races down to your apartment.

You scoop another spoonful of brownie ice cream and shove it in your mouth, not caring about the coldness on your sensitive teeth, too busy sulking and spacing out at the trashy reality show playing on the TV. Soon you hear someone crash in from the front door, making you turn your head swiftly.

A flustered Leah stands by the doorway with a basket full of items you can’t see from where you’re sitting. You send her a weak smile and turn your attention back to the television. Footsteps begin approaching you and the couch sinks downwards next to you.

“I saw the photos, how are you holding up?” Her tone stays soft but cautious, testing the waters to see how your emotions are at the moment.

All you do is shrug in response while stirring your spoon around in your ice cream, placing your gaze anywhere else but the blonde’s pitiful look. Leah just nods in understanding before sitting back on the sofa, allowing you to talk whenever you’re comfortable.

“I’m not even that brokenhearted about it. Mason’s been pulling away for a while so it was only time until he found someone new” You say, breaking the comfortable silence after a few minutes. The girl beside you moves closer, placing her hand on your criss crossed legs.

“That doesn’t give him any reason to cheat. If he knew it was going nowhere, he should’ve ended it, not find some rando in a crowd who is not even half as pretty as you.” Leah getting slightly irritated at the man for doing something as vile to you. Once again, you just shrug at her truthful statement and compliment.

“I’m kind of happy he did it.” Leah’s eyebrow quirks at your whisper while you let out a shaky sigh before finally looking at the blonde. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely pissed he did and is parading it all over the internet, but I’m not upset he’s not mine anymore.” Your tone slightly shifts from quiet to angry in a millisecond.

“Good because you deserve someone who can cherish you, appreciate you, and show you how beautiful you truly are.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be up for that challenge.” You joke, laughing quietly to yourself but stopping when you don’t hear anything from the girl next to you. As you look up, you see Leah with a stunned look on her face which soon turns into a smug smile.

“The real challenge would be if you could keep up with me or not.” Now it’s your turn to look shocked, noticing the cocky smirk on the woman’s face. She shifts closer to you, placing her hand on your knee while rubbing her thumb against you. “C’mon, baby. Do you think you can handle me?” She teases, moving her face closer to yours, making your eyes switch between her eyes and lips.

Right as Leah's mouth opens to say another taunting comment, you wrap your hand behind her neck and slam your lips against hers. The kiss quickly turns heated when Leah’s tongue enters your mouth, warmth flooding your body in seconds. Her hands grip at your waist and tug you into her lap without breaking the kiss. The sound of your lips colliding together is enough for a pool of arousal to make its way between your legs.

“Are you sure about this?” She mumbles against your lips, holding herself back from jumping right back in.

“I’ve always liked Arsenal more than Manchester United.” You snicker which in turn makes the blonde grin before diving back in.

The show in the background becomes muffled, your focus solely on the girl beneath you. Her hands are placed on the small of your back slightly pushing in to make your back arch and chest push into her. They soon begin to slowly slide down to your bottom as your tongues stroke against each other’s.

“Let’s go to the room, yeah?” Leah insists, breaking the kiss. Her eyes trail your face, admiring your lips swollen and red, eyes hooded, and hair messy.

“Yes.” You pant out, breaking the girl from thought and causing her to smile in anticipation. She hooks her hands under your thighs, easily picking you up as if you only weigh a pound, and hurrying into your now one-person bedroom.

Just as she’s about to drop you, she decides against it and topples down on top of your body. You both giggle at her antics before eagerly connecting your lips again. Leah’s right forearm holds herself up by your head while her other hand roams under your shirt, rubbing and scratching as she trails further up.

“No bra?”

“You wouldn’t be wearing one either if you were lounging around, sulking while eating ice cream.” You huff, impatiently pulling the blonde back in an attempt to reconnect your lips. Leah swiftly sits up on her knees, looking at your disheveled form on the bed.

“You look so pretty for me, love.” Your heart thumps against your chest at the new term of endearment. The blood rushing to your cheeks felt abnormal, never having been this flustered by someone’s gaze.

Leah’s eyes continue to roam your figure while her hand traces absentmindedly. She notices your breath hitch when it sits on your collarbone, inches away from your neck. She rotates her hand so her fingers lie against it, wanting to see your reaction. You squeeze your eyes shut while your fist grips against the sheets.

“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, angel.” Leah chuckles, leaning down and pressing her lips onto your neck, sucking at your sweet spot. Little whimpers leave your mouth before you tilt your head to the side, allowing her to have more access.

“Lee, please do something.” You whine, feeling her hand under your shirt, palming at your breast.

“Such an impatient girl. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you to behave.” She rasps against your ear, tugging it down with her teeth. Your thighs squeeze together, trying to relieve some tension between your legs.

Leah finally lifts your shirt over your head and throws it mindlessly somewhere in the room. Usually, you’d feel embarrassed as your whole body would cower away but with Leah, it felt different. It felt good. It felt right.

Her head leans down, kissing around your chest before latching onto your nipple. The tension in your body quickly disappears as you sigh in relief. While her warm tongue swirls around you, her free hand trails down your stomach and beneath your shorts and underwear.

Your breath hitches when the pads of her fingers swipe through your folds, collecting all of your arousal and spreading it. Her mouth leaves your chest with a loud plop before she attacks your lips again, swallowing all the little noises you’re making as she rubs tight circles around your clit.

Right as you try to tug off your shorts, Leah’s hand grabs your wrist, restricting any movement. “What do you think you’re doing, love?” She rasps against your neck, continuing to scatter little hickeys around.

“Please.”

“You gotta be more specific on what you’re pleading for, baby.” The defender taunts with a wicked grin, shifting her head over yours so she can witness your pleading.

“Please take off my clothes and fuck me.”

Something in her shifts when she hears those words come out of your mouth. Suddenly she doesn’t want to make you wait because if she makes you, she’ll also have to hold herself back.

Both of her hands grip on each side of your shorts and yank them down aggressively, wanting to waste no time even if there isn’t a limit. You gasp at her change in demeanor but it overall excites you further.

“God you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Leah rasps, getting worked up by just the sight of you underneath her, naked and squirming. She moves towards the lower end of the bed, lying down so her face is close to your core.

“Leah, I need you.” You pant, feeling her warm breath against your wetness. Right when you think she’s going to dive in, she tilts her head and begins to kiss your thighs, leaving light bite marks behind. You shake your thighs with a whine which makes the blonde chuckle against your skin.

But soon your whines are replaced by moans when she latches onto your pussy with no warning. She knows exactly what she’s doing and how to do it. Her mouth switches from sucking and flicking your clit with her tongue to dipping her tongue in and out of your dripping hole.

Subconsciously your hips slowly grind against her face for more friction which she figures out quickly. She wraps her arms around your thighs and places both hands down on your pubic bone, pushing you more into the mattress to restrict any movement.

With the amount of people you have been with, no one has eaten you out this good before. She knows exactly when to loosen or tighten her tongue, where you need her, and at what pace makes it more pleasurable.

Moans spew out of your mouth consistently as your hands grip so hard against the sheets your knuckles are white. The blissful sensation shoots through your whole body like a lightning bolt, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Lee, baby. I’m close, so close.”

Leah unwraps one of her arms and reaches up to grasp your neck with her hand, choking you with very little pressure but enough to heighten your senses. While she continues to abuse your clit, she notices your eyes squeeze shut and your hips move up more slowly against her mouth.

When you finally let out a loud squeak and a string of curse words, she knows you’re cumming. Her tongue doesn’t stop lapping around until you twitch away from her touch. She lets go of your neck and kisses her way up your body until she’s face to face with you to which you pull her down, smashing your lips against hers, moaning when her tongue invades your mouth.

“That was so good.” You breathe out with a giddy smile. She sends back a dashing grin before nuzzling her face in your neck and pecking around.

“We’re not done yet. I’m just getting started with you.” Leah smirks, making your eyes widen. Her right-hand drags around your skin, fingertips brushing so lightly it’s almost ticklish. “I want you to squirt all over my fingers, baby.”

“I c-can’t do that-“

“You will, and we will show your little cheating boy toy just how good I make you feel. I bet he’s never made you squirt before, has he?” She tilts her head, eyes never leaving yours.

“No one has.” You whisper from both embarrassment and shock.

“Mmm, even better.”

She makes no other movement besides her hand continuing to wander around your body, confusing you with the sudden silence. You’re also in your head about how she means you’re going to show him.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted by two fingers plunging into you. A whine shoots out from your mouth without even trying. Leah is so enticed by how your pussy swallows her fingers so well, almost sucking them in. She isn’t going fast, almost purposefully going so slow to torture you.

You whimper at your body feeling full but not any improvement towards an orgasm. The defender’s thumbs remain against your clit so with each thrust of her hand, she rubs it slowly.

“I thought the point of squirting was also to cum.” You huff impatiently which makes the girl chuckle at your needy state.

“See, baby. I’m going to edge you which will make you more sensitive and make you feel more built up. It might feel like torture for a bit but it will all be worth it.”

Before you can protest, her lips latch onto yours as she speeds up her fingers, causing you to moan into her mouth, allowing her to just swallow them. Her fingers are only halfway in but they move fast along with her thumb rubbing against your bundle of nerves.

She knows immediately when you’re about to come so right when you’re about to tilt off the edge, she pulls away leaving you whining in discomfort. Only after a minute or two, does she dip her fingers back into you and do exactly what she did before.

This repeats 3 or 4 more times, ending with you sobbing in overstimulation and want. You were so so so close each time but she pulled away before you could even realize it.

“Awe, baby, you did so good. Now it’s time to show that jerk what he’s missing, don’t ya think?” Leah tilts her head in fake question before reaching over your head to grab her phone she must have set by you at some time.

Your head finally wraps around what she has been talking about. She wants to record her fucking you and send it to Mason. It’s a very risky move. It’s crazy. It turns you on.

Showing off that you’re getting so deliciously fucked by the English captain. He parades on the internet him kissing some other girl, you parade to him having sex with a very familiar girl.

“Are you okay with this? I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Her dominant persona fades a little into concern. Of course, it would be fun for her to show the idiot what he lost and what she has gained, but she needs you to want to do it too.

“Yes.”

“Yes? Are you sure?”

“Leah, I need you with your fingers inside of me, pounding into me, recording, then making me cum so hard I see stars. I want to show him I upgraded.” You purr against her ear, having sit up slightly to reach her. The defender’s eyes flutter shut with a quiet moan, showing you how much your words have an effect on her.

“Lie down.”

When you don’t comply right away, she shoves you down on the bed, her dominant demeanor returning. Her free hand reaches down, slowly rubbing your clit while her other presses record on her phone. You coincidentally moan right when it starts.

From your nose and lower, your whole body is on display on the camera, showing off the fresh red hickeys scattered around, your very swollen clit under the blonde’s thumb, and your extremely wet pussy.

Without wasting any time, Leah slips her middle and ring finger into you. Unlike before, she goes knuckles deep into you. Your mouth lets out a high-pitched noise along with a string of moans as she drags her fingers in and out, her thumb never leaving your clit.

Once a few seconds have passed she immediately fastens her thrusts, curling her fingers up to brush against your g-spot. Your moans get louder and never stop the faster she goes, and from the constant edging, it’s not going to take much to push you over the edge.

This orgasm feels different though. It feels bigger and more intense coming up. Usually, it approaches and disappears fast, but the pleasure right now leading up to it feels amazing. More amazing than your normal ones.

“Baby, I think I’m getting close.” You gasp before moaning again.

“Say my name.”

You look up at her in confusion only to see her eyes full of lust and her phone held up right next to her. Realizing that it’s to show who she is you don’t complain.

“Leah, please make me cum.”

“Again.”

“Leah.”

“Again.”

She knows you’re extremely close. Each time her fingers thrust into you, your walls squeeze tighter and tighter around her digits. And by the way your nails are digging into her bicep and your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re holding it as much as you can.

“Leah! You’re making me feel so good, Lee. Please let me cum.” You’re basically sobbing at this point so when she mumbles the next words you crumble.

“Cum for me, baby.”

As you let go, you feel liquid run down your thighs along with louder wet noises as Leah’s hand continues to pound into you. Your mouth is wide open in silent pleasure while she carries on pushing you to the end of your orgasm.

Once a pornographic moan finally escapes your lips along with your body spasming, she pulls her fingers out and gently rubs along your clit. Your body jerks away with each swipe of her thumb so she finally stops altogether.

“Such a good girl. My good girl.” Leah praises before ending the recording and lying down next to you.

She wraps her arms around your naked form and pulls you into her. Your head finds its place in her neck while she rubs her hand up and down your arm, soothing you after the very intense moment.

“I didn’t think I could do that and you proved me wrong. You are one of many talents, Miss Leah Williamson.” You jab your finger into her chest teasingly. The defender tilts her head back with a laugh before leaning down and kissing your forehead.

Both of you lay there in comfortable silence, embracing each other’s warmth.

“Should we send it?”

“I will never say no to showing that dweeb what I can do to you and he can’t.”

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson smut #leah williamson #mason mount #woso x reader #woso fic #woso imagine #woso smut #england #woso

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK! PT2

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! (again)₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, size kink, jealous!reader, jealous!gojo, fluff, creampie, squirting, matingpress, age-gap, reader is described as way smaller than gojo, tummy buldge, teasing, use of nickanmes, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son...

PART 1

Life is fun.

To say you’ve been having the best months of your life would be an understatement. Starting to know Go- Satoru Gojo has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Mostly the age difference. It wasn’t that big, but 7 years was enough for people to talk. And now that he’s turning 32 people have been checking on him for no stop. You guess he was pretty famous when he was younger, at least more than now. 

Even though he is older than you, he’s a ray of sunshine full of brightness for this sad gray world. He finds fun in the sadness, and that’s why every time you see him, not only his eyes shine because of his beautiful blue orbs, but he makes your life shine with how good he makes you feel.

Another day being a teacher wasn’t like any other- But now you have this pink haired kid running across the classroom, and even though you don’t let your personal ‘persona’ interrupt in your job life, you couldn’t stop from falling into your lover son’s cuteness. But you don’t have favorites! At least you don’t say it out loud…

Satoru always trusted you to keep Yuji Itadori with you whenever he had some extra work to do– and he would spend time with you, sometimes at the classroom while you finish some work, or on special days both of you go out for some ice-cream.

But now Satoru hasn’t called or sent a message. 

You were kinda nervous- Your turn was over and you were waiting for everyone to go home, but you were still wondering what was going on with Yuji.

“Hey cotton-candy, is your daddy coming for you?” You asked the little boy, leaning down to have his attention. Not that you needed it much, you know this kid was about to be as tall as his dad.

“Uh, well…” the kid looked up, shifting your gaze too, looking towards a beautiful woman with pink-ish hair and hazel eyes. holy shit- she really looked like Yuji- maybe she was his-

Mom. Standing next to fucking Yuji’s daddy.

Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah?” He called out your name, you were too lost staring at the couple that you never realized you said his name out loud. Shit. Giving the fakest smile to ever exist in this universe you bowed to both of them, while saying your greetings towards Yuji’s mom.

The little kid called your name, losing the soft grip from your hand and while he ran towards his parents. Real. Real parents.

“Look! Mom and daddy are together! They’re taking me to an amusement park because of my birth-day!” His birthday is next week. You know- you have it in your calendar. But you suppose he wanted to spend a day with both of his parents at the same time.

Does she know you’ve been fucking her hus- ex-husband? And you guess she knows about you by the way she looks at you with a sour face, masked with the hypocrisy of a ‘capitalism smile’

“Oh! You must be Yuji’s favorite teacher- Him and Gojo love talking about you.” The sound of her voice almost made you puke, but the moment she places her hands on Gojo, you swear something inside you exploded. You couldn’t tell how he was feeling- your mind full of how you’re getting yourself out of this situation, and maybe out of the city too.

Are they getting back together? Does he still love her? Is he playing with you?

Does he also have that ‘capitalism smile’? Do you have to be at their economic level? The fuck.. why you’re feeling like this! You and Gojo haven’t even officialized any titles for your…. relationship?

Gojo sensed the change of atmosphere once he saw you staring at them with a lost face. He didn’t intend to come here with her. But he didn’t trust her with you. Your shoulders were tense, that fake broken smile you give to people that have hurt you but way too afraid to speak up towards his way. That kinda broke his heart. 

And what angered him the most, was when the witch laid hands on him. He also felt like he was about to puke, way too disgusted with this encounter that it was almost an instinct when he rapidly moved his body- But at the time he did that, a voice called out your name, making you shift your gaze to the sudden voice.

A tall blonde (not as tall as him), buff, (not as buff as him), with formal clothes he could easily identify that were old but classic- nothing like his style. He was not boring. Came walking towards you, waving at you and later placing his hand in your fucking lower back before both of you paid attention to the family infront of you again.

“Oh- I’m sorry. This is the school principal, Mr. Kento.” He might be overreacting, because a principal shouldn’t be this close towards a teacher, his blue eyed-gaze piercing holes into his face, clearly criticizing any aspect that came from him and fit his mind.

Everything after that was like a bullet piercing his head. Getting in automatic mode to survive this awkward encounter and finish the day as soon as possible. Obviously missing the fact Mr. Kento was married and you were his bridesmaid. 

Gratefully the next was saturday- not losing the chance to get drunk and convince yourself that yesterday didn’t happen. You kinda have problems.

Gojo was worried you didn’t answer any of his calls in the morning. Instead, he went looking for you at your house- using the extra pair of keys you gave him. He was practically married to you. At least what he thinks. 

But he couldn’t understand you. Not once he entered the room and found you staring at the TV, your phone long forgotten somewhere. He called out your name, obviously worried about you. Thank god you showered and cleaned yesterday’s mess. “Baby- Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Are you getting back together?” 

“With who? What are you talk-”

“With her.”

Gojo gave you a breathless laugh after the last words came out of you before embracing you with his arms. Feeling the heat radiating from his body, the sun to your moon. “With that witch?-- Ppft”  His chest pressed against yours while he chuckled at your assumption. “Why would I ever go back to her, or even meet other women when I have you?”

He felt the tears coming out of your pure eyes wetting his shirt, before his hand traveled and caressed your cheek– kissing away those awful tears that he hated. If he ever has to see you cry it should be– one, because he fucked you so good, or two because he gave you a ring to be by his side for eternity.

“Are you with him?” It’s now his time to ask questions.

“With who?”

“Blonde old guy from yesterday…”

“Oh, Mr. Kento? He’s my best-friend's husband and he's younger than you Satoru” You said while a giggle came out of your mouth and hit his chest with your hand in a light way. 

“Ouh- You tiny thing- How can you hit so hard?” His movements were fast, caging you as fast as possible in his body while he laid you again on your back into your mattress, filling your face with kisses. Seeing you like this was something different to Gojo, it was… more intimate. Your beautiful smile is all for him to adore. Seeing your small body compared to his affected his brain chemistry, leading his blood all down into his cock. 

“I can’t stop wanting to kiss you when you smile, because I want to steal it from you.” His words went straight to your heart, making you blush and avert his gaze from you. “Don’t hide my love, please- let me show you how much I need you.”

His kisses were tender, starting as pure pecks until those pecks turned into trying to claim you as him all over your neck– making you whimper only by his touch. “Maybe we should fullfish Yuji’s wish of giving him a small sister- what do you think?”

“Satoru…”

“What? He keeps rambling about you even when his biological mother is around. Kids his age don’t know how babies are made- but I would gladly show you how and keep you full of my cum everyday just to make sure, y’know?... fucking you here, at mis house… ffuck- at your desk… whenever I have the chance baby.”

Whimpers became moans once his hand reached your trembling core searching for release. Moving your panties to the side– “Sshit baby- You’re so.. wet.” A moan came out of you when his fingers went back to his mouth and he thrusted his covered hips into yours– also searching for friction.While he undressed you and himself too. “Wanna keep you full and nice f’me. So everytime you sit down you think of me. I would love to see your body once I get you pregnant– Ffuck- Scratch that. I would love to wake up every morning by your side. Wake up because of the cries or sounds of our kids. So be a good girl f’me and get pregnant and wifey just f’me, yeah?... fucking yyeah…”

His voice echoes inside your brain, being a trembling mess once he ponders inside of you. Keeping it there just for a moment and feeling him twitch because of how good you make him feel. His thrusts went feral once he truly realized the size difference and the bump forming in your tummy every time he thrusted inside you. Leading one of your hands to rest on your tummy. “Ya feel that? Yeah baby honey… I’m gonna fill this up with my cum- and you’re just gonna take it.” You were a rambling mess once he pressed hard in that spot- Trying to move his hand away from there because the abuse your g-spot was receiving.

The only coherent thing coming out of you,’ah, ah~, ah’ while he dumped his cum inside of you. Still rock hard and full to do it again. His arms engaged with your legs to have better accesses to your pussy, feeling his cock way goo deeper than the first time– taking you in a masting press.

“Fill me up again ´toru…” And oh shit. That made him go feral. His thrusts were erratic and unsynchronized, but each time you swear you could feel him inside your throat. He knew how to use his thing. Your orgasms were not like the other ones you had before. Coating your sheets and Gojo’s pelvis with your liquids– heavy breathes trying to accompany you while Gojo reached his high while you received him like a good girl even when he could barely fit it in again because of your intense orgasm. 

He would always whisper cute things in your ears after sex. Making the both of you laugh with adventure you were slowly creating with him. The family you were creating. And now? His talk while cleaning you up was about baby names 

A/N: this was an experience... the sex was A LOT for me, i never want to hear the word cock again.

taglist: @sirachano0dles @4imhry @chimmysoftpaws @philiatothephobia @xthatpottahfanx @chaotic-tnt

#romy's writings #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo smut #gojo jjk #satoru gojo #gojo jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru fluff #gojo fluff #yuji itadori #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #toji smut #nanami kento #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[moonstruckme]

i cannot stop thinking about oblivious reader and remus where she’s talking about how she’s never been with anyone before bc no one likes her so remus is like i like you!! but she’s like haha ok yeah bc we are friends!! and he has to be like no i like you but she just thinks he’s taking piss but he’s actually being real with her i’m so 🤧

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: mention of alcohol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

“Ugh, they’re disgusting.” You take a sip of your drink, looking at James and Lily over the rim of your cup. Lily’s eating an ice cream sandwich she’d found in Sirius’ freezer, offering James bites while he traces lines between her freckles with his pinkie. “I want to be them so badly.” 

Remus hums. It’s the tail end of one of Sirius’ parties (or his soirees, as he insists upon calling them), and the atmosphere is heavy with a pleasant lethargy. The music is still playing from his record player, some slowish, bass-heavy rock, but most everyone has cleared out, and Sirius himself has fallen asleep on the opposite side of the couch from Lily and James, his mouth hanging open. 

“I wonder what it’s like to be in love,” you sigh. Remus turns to you, catching the longing in your look just before you hide it away. 

“You’ve never been in love?” he asks you. 

You give him a funny look. “No.” You shrug. “I’ve never dated anyone before.” 

Remus hadn’t known that. He has to remind himself, again, that he doesn’t know all that much about you. You’re new to their little group, a coworker of Lily’s that she’d started bringing around recently. Remus doesn’t know you very well, but he’s found the learning process surprisingly enjoyable. He likes being around you. 

“How’s that?” It slips out before he can think it through, brash and unlike him. He backpedals immediately. “Sorry, that was rude, I only meant that I’m a bit surprised. You don’t have to answer.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You give him a smile, infinite in your benevolence. “People just don’t seem to think of me that way. No one’s ever liked me.” 

You sound so casual about it, but Remus can’t help but think that must not be a nice way to think of yourself. He’s sure you’ve been considered romantically by plenty of people, even if they never had the guts to tell you about it. You’re lovely. You deserve to know it. 

He musters his courage. “I like you.” 

You laugh, and he thinks Sirius is going to have to mop his self-esteem up off the floor tomorrow morning as part of his party cleanup. 

“Thanks,” you say, “but you don’t count.” 

 Why the hell not?

“I mean, I’m glad you don’t mind me,” you go on, taking another sip of your drink, “but it’s different when you’re friends. I meant that nobody’s ever liked me, like, romantically.” 

You go a bit shy at the last word, self-consciousness pulling your shoulders almost imperceptibly upwards. Remus forgives your oversight instantly. 

“Do you really think it’s so unlikely that anyone could like you romantically?” he asks, refusing to lower his gaze even when you shrink a bit at the question. “You’re a catch, love, trust me.” 

You shake your head and smile, frustratingly good-natured. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to date me.”

“Have to?” Remus’ voice rises incredulously. He glances towards James and Lily on the couch, lowering it. “I would love to.” 

“Ha ha,” you monotone, rolling your eyes and raising your cup to your lips. 

He can’t believe you think he’d joke about this. He can’t figure out what’s more cruel, the way you keep inadvertently shooting him down or the fact that you seem so heart-wrenchingly prepared to be made fun of. “I mean it.” Remus lets his voice drop into a more genuine register, and something in your look softens. “I would date you. I want to, if you do. You’re far from impossible to like.” 

Your lips actually part in surprise. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah, I…” He looks over at the couch, but James and Lily are effectively as dead to the world as Sirius, and at the volume you’re both speaking he doubts they’d be able to hear you over the music anyway. “I think you’re really lovely. I’ve been meaning to do something about it, I just…I didn’t know how. But would you want to?”

“To go on a date?” you ask, looking a bit dazed. Remus smiles, but before he can confirm you laugh at yourself, the sound rich and sweet as dark chocolate. “Sorry, that might be a stupid question. I haven’t done this before.” 

“I can’t believe that.” He shakes his head, astounded. For a girl like you to never get asked out? Well, it makes things a bit easier for him, jealousy-wise, but objectively it’s criminal. Remus supposes he’ll have to make up for it himself. “But yeah, I’d like to go on a date.” 

You nod, smile sticking on your face. “Me too. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, finding that your smile seems to have stuck to him too. “Tomorrow, maybe? We could go for coffee.” He looks out the window behind you, where a faint line of gold on the horizon shows promise of sunrise. “I think we’ll both be needing it.” 

You laugh again. Remus decides that he likes it better than any song Sirius has played all night. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Remus.” 

He’s not sure what you’re thanking him for. He’s the one who gets to take you to coffee tomorrow. He ought to be thanking you.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin friends to lovers #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one shot #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom

[puppy-steve]

Robin has spent plenty of time watching Steve Harrington from the shadows. The way he continuously stayed on the sidelines of the rest of his friends’ bullying was interesting. He never said too much of anything when it happened, didn’t look all that interested in it, either. Just leaned against a locker and looked bored out of his mind.

Until a week before Thanksgiving break a couple years ago, when Tommy Hagan started bragging to anyone who’d listen about how Steve got his shit rocked by Jonathan Byers and promptly dumped him and Carol to the curb after. Sure, Tommy made sure to mention that Steve was the one to push until Jonathan finally snapped and punched him, but he didn’t say how Steve had gone limp after. Letting Byers rearrange his face until a teacher ran over to break them up.

She remembers how lost he’d looked in the aftermath. Like he was a shell of himself.

So yeah. Steve Harrington isn’t the same person he was in high school. Or at least he’s trying not to be, that much Robin has noticed since he started working at Scoops at the beginning of the summer. But she didn’t think he’d changed so much to be openly flirting with the Freak of Hawkins.

Well. Not exactly flirting, but there’s something there Robin can’t quite put her finger on.

Steve’s manning the counter, right where she’d left him twenty minutes ago, but instead of looking like the picture of boredom slinging ice cream to annoying kids, he’s leaned his elbows on the counter where Eddie Munson is doing the same on the other side. They’re too quiet for Robin to hear what they’re talking about but Steve’s fingers are hooked on Eddie’s watch, not pulling or tugging. Just resting.

Eddie’s hands are clasped in front of him but his pointer finger keeps reaching out to lightly stroke Steve’s arm, and that’s when it hits Robin like a slap in the face.

They’re domestic.

The lobby is empty, save for Eddie’s friends that now occupy one of the booths, loudly arguing over something but Robin could care less because at that moment, Steve says something that has Eddie letting out a cackle laugh, his nose scrunched up and his shoulders shaking as he laughs. Her eyes slide over to Steve and he’s.

Huh.

Gone is the usual smug smirk that graces his face when a girl laughs at one of his (awful) jokes, and is replaced by something… fond. His face is relaxed into a small smile and his round Bambi eyes are shining with mirth. Like he’d expected this reaction. Sometime during this, their fingers have tangled together in a subtle hand-hold across the counter and holy shit.

Steve Harrington is dating Eddie Munson.

One of Eddie’s friends (Jeff, she thinks. They had pre-calc together.) says something and Steve only rolls his eyes as he replies. Eddie’s grinning at them over his shoulder. Neither of their postures have changed. Robin feels like the room’s spinning.

She knows about Eddie. Eddie knows about her. It’s never been verbally said, but birds of a feather and all that. It doesn’t have to be. She must accidentally bump into something in her attempt to rebalance the world because Steve’s head is snapping toward her and panic flashes in his eyes as he tries to rip his hands away from Eddie’s.

Eddie only holds them tighter as he locks eyes with her.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he tells Steve in a hushed tone. In front of him, Steve’s visibly shaking like a leaf, mouth opening and closing but not making a sound. Robin’s heart breaks a little. He looks downright terrified. Eddie’s eyes haven’t left her. “She’s safe. Aren’t you, Birdie?”

The question is directed at her. She swallows and nods quickly. “Y-yeah!” She winces at the volume of it. Clearing her throat, she tries again, taking a step forward like she’s approaching a frightened animal. “You can trust me, Steve.” Uses his first name instead of the ‘dingus’ that’s grown affectionate. “I'm—” She glances over at the booth that’s gone quiet. She doesn’t want to out herself to the entire freak population of Hawkins High.

“I’m a friend,” she settles on.

It takes Steve a moment for it to sink in, and when it does, his eyes somehow grow bigger in understanding. “Oh,” he breathes out, like a sigh of relief. Eddie’s rubbing his thumb over Steve’s knuckles.

“Yeah, dingus.” Robin’s close enough now to nudge his shoulder with hers. “Oh. Why don’t you go on break? I’ve got this.”

Steve gives her a grateful look and tugs Eddie to the booth to join Eddie’s —their— friends.

“It’s about damn time you guys remembered the rest of us,” the curly haired one complains as they both slide in on the same side. Eddie throws a straw wrapper at him and Robin stops paying attention after that.

permanent taglist: @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy @scarcrossdlvrs @starrystevie @inairbinad @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual @theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie @corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero

🥐☕💕 buy me a coffee?

#cj talks #steddie #gseb #steddie ficlet #cj writes #steddie fic

[augustinewrites]

“i sent a text,” you mutter to yourself as you push and hold the door open with your foot. “and yet nobody came down to help me with the groceries.” 

you push the door shut with your elbow, turning around to see why exactly no one had answered your text. the three of them are sat at the dining table. megumi’s staring at the table, tsumiki’s staring at a painting on the wall, and satoru's glaring at the pile of phones in front of him.

“what is going on?” you ask, setting your bags on the countertop. 

“family meeting,” satoru answers, still glaring at the phones.

“really?” you ask, pulling out your chair to join them. “last time you called a family meeting, you wanted to discuss whether or not you could pull off an earring.” 

“that was a short conversation,” megumi quips.

“hey, i’m still confident that you’re all wrong and i’d totally rock an earring,” he tells you. “but that’s not what this is about. this is about tsumiki.” 

“oh,” you say, surprised by this turn of events. “i thought megumi got in trouble at school again.”

“he did.” 

“i did.” 

figures. you’d address that later. 

“and that’s why i was at their school, where i saw tsumiki about to skip class with - get this - with her boyfriend, who none of us knew existed.”

you exhale a heavy breath. “oh…” 

but your reaction must be too mild for your fiancé, who sends you a funny look. “‘oh?’ that’s a little light. she has a boyfriend that none of us knew about!”

an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. satoru looks at megumi, who looks at tsumiki, who looks at you. 

you actively work to avoid his gaze, further incriminating yourself.

“wait…do you know something?”

“can i talk to you for a second?” you ask, nodding your head toward the kitchen. he follows you over, but not before telling the kids not to touch their phones. 

“how are we handling this?” he asks, pacing back and forth with a deeply conflicted look on his face. you don’t think you’ve even seen him look this serious about something before. “‘cause i know i’m usually the fun parent and you usually bring the heat when it comes to punishments, but i’m already there, babe! she’s grounded. phone, gone! food, maybe! and she is forbidden from seeing this boy for–  till– till she’s in college.”

“satoru–”

“i can’t believe she didn’t tell us she had a boyfriend,” he mutters, not finished yet. “who is this kid, anyway? her boyfriend?” you roll your eyes when he even gags on the word.

“okay, okay,” you laugh nervously, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “do you promise that you’re not going to freak out if i tell you something?”

“no.”

“fair enough,” you agree. “uh…i met her boyfriend.” his eyes widen, but you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything. “hold on! she only told me a couple of days ago because they just started dating two weeks ago. she was going to tell you, i promise.”

“but she’s too young to have—”

“satoru, keeping apart kids that are in love never works out for the people keeping them apart.” you loop your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. “imagine if someone had told you that you couldn’t date me.”

“yeah, i know,” he grumbles. “i guess i’m just hurt that she didn’t tell me right away. we have a connection, you know. like you and megumi. last week when we went out for our weekly ice cream gossip session, she didn’t say a thing!” 

“you guys have weekly gossip sessions?”

“uh, yeah. as if you and megumi don’t talk shit about us illiterates whenever you go to the bookstore.” 

“i think we’re getting off track,” you deflect with a huff. “what are we going to do about the situation at hand?”

_____

at the sound of a knock on the door, tsumiki bursts out of her room. “i’ll get it!”

“be cool,” you tell satoru, who scoffs as he fixes his hair.

“i’m cool. the coolest. i’m like ice.” 

“i’m serious,” you grit as tsumiki pulls the door open. “do not be weird right now.”

you smile as tsumiki introduces you both, taking the bouquet of flowers that her boyfriend offers you.

“dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself at home in the meantime,” you tell him, filling a vase with water. 

“in the living room, preferably,” gojo adds stiffly. where tsumiki shoots him a look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “we’ll be in the kitchen, you’ll have plenty of privacy.”

“the kitchen and the living room are the same room,” she mutters.

“then you can pretend that we’re not even here,” he says, tone light. then, after a moment. “but remember that we will be here. the whole time.”

“okay, you need to take all of that and put it away,” you tell him sternly, handing him a stack of plates to put on the table. “welcome to the real world, babe. this is what raising teenagers is all about.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

[babygirl-riley]

His Girls

Simon had to go into work throughout the craziness of the Riley household he lost his plastic skull mask. Only to find his youngest chewing on it.

Warnings: PURE fluff, seriously dad!simon, swearing

A/N: I am OBESSESSED with dad!Simon and to FEED my addiction @ave661 just keep coming in clutch! Go subscribe their pateron! Just a small drabble for you all ❤️

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was running around throwing on small amount of gear, only going to the base. He put his mask on and realized he missed placed his skull that was suppose to be with it. “Daddy,” His five year old cried. “I don’t wanna have you go.” She held his leg.

“Daddy has to,” You said as your pre teen followed you. She was rambling on how she wanted to go to the mall with her friends but couldn’t. “Millie enough.” You said behind you to his oldest.

“Dad.” Millie looked at him and he shook his head.

“Do what ya mum says.” He looked down at Allison and kneeled down. Millie scoffed and walked off. “I’m not gonna be long promise. We will go get ice cream.”

Allison pouted. “Okay.” She walked out before Simon turned to you.

“I can’t find my fucking mask,” He cursed ripping through everything. “I had it ‘ere now it’s gone.”

You nodded. “Have you checked between the drawers?”

Simon nodded walking out. “Dad! I promised Jackie that I would be there, now what do I do?”

Simon loved his kids he did but damn he didn’t expect having all girls would make his head spin. You even joked about how soon Millie will start her womanhood and then they were fucked. Simon jogged down the stairs looking in the kitchen. “Millie, your mum said no, you think I’m going to say yes after? Ya know not to make promises that you don’t know if you gonna keep.” He explained not looking at her.

Millie groaned. “Listen though everyone goes out with their friends to the malls at this time. Not later. Plus they all can’t go.”

Simon snapped his head up looking on the counter. “I thought it was just Jackie.” You said having his baby youngest in your arms. She was wrapped in her blanket as she set her down in the living room that we connected to the kitchen.

Tessa giggled as she looked up at the tv. Playing with something in her hands. Simon sighed irritated, time was running short, he was running behind, and his patience running thin. Millie and you were arguing back and forth, as Allison came running down the stairs to watch tv. Simon inhaled deeply looking around again. “Your father agrees with me. I am done talking about this. You are not going, we have to be at Nana’s today.” You said putting your foot down.

Simon looked up and waited for Millie to respond. She just rolled her eyes and stomped off, you pressed fingers against your temples. “Alright Simon I am going to look in Allison’s room maybe she was playing with it.”

Simon nodded as he kept looking through and stood for a moment thinking where it could be. Trying to think where the fuck he put it. Nerves were high. He was getting anxious of being late. His thought started to swirl making his anger higher. Until he heard a small giggle.

Simon looked down to see Tessa on her back gnawing on something. Larger than her for sure. His eyes softened when they made eye contact, the blanket moving over to the side to see his mask. He inhaled with relief as he knelt down. “You bugger.” He whispered ripping his balaclava off.

Tessa giggled, he always loves the sound of his girls laughing giggling. It made him miss and think of Millie when she was this young. Innocent. Naive. Hell Tessa even had the same outfit that Millie wore. When both of you kept having kids and they were girls, he couldn’t or wouldn’t let you get rid of this outfit. It was his favorite.

Simon sat Tessa up and turned her towards him. She stopped chewing on it but held onto it. Her way of rebelling of him leaving for the day. Simon chuckled and grabbed the top of it. “Daddy will be back sweet girl.”

Tessa just had her large brown eyes set on him. Simon looked at the features, seeing Tommy and his mom in them. Making him think of his nephew Joseph and how Millie and him could have been close. How you could have a friend with Tommy’s wife. He often thought about it when looking at his girls. Millie definitely was a slit image of you though, personality to features.

Allison would just attach whenever she wanted to, independent like him. Tessa though was definitely daddy’s girl, anytime he would walk into a room she would know. Hell when you were pregnant with her she would move when hearing his voice. When he forgot to take the mask off she giggled and reach for it. Anytime he came home she was thrilled, screeching and giving sign to pick her up.

Tessa giggled as she reached for his thumb grabbing it. These moments he loved, the small gestures. The smiles. Giggles. It made him have that stir inside, the one that wants him to have another baby. His girls were his angels, so why not have more? More of these innocent kids that he made. His pride and joys. He didn’t want to go, he rather be here, with his girls. Go get ice cream now. Simon sighed as he looked up the stairs to make sure Millie wasn’t standing there so he could go say a proper goodbye for the day.

Allison came next to Simon as she hugged his thigh and looked at Tessa. “Daddy said we can get ice cream Tess! Sooner he leaves the sooner we get ice cream!”

Simon smiled down at her, he thought how smart she was becoming. Her sentences making more sense. Allison was like him, truly. Short tempered. Emotional ball. At the same time though she was thick skinned, she could take a hit until she can’t take it. She was caring, always sharing even if she didn’t want to. Would try to make everything more lighter when things got tense. At 5 years old.

“Exactly,” He felt his plastic mask loosen up and he softly took it away. “I love you baby girls.” He said kissing both of their foreheads. “I’m gonna say bye to ya sister, watch Tess yeah?”

“Yes sir daddy!” Allison chimed as she started to gather Tess’s attention.

He looked down at the stairs watching Tessa giggle and squeal at her sister. Simon walked towards Millie’s room, hearing her soft rock play behind the door. He knocked softly as he heard the music turn down. “Who is it?” She said snarky.

“Dad.” He said softly, he heard the knob unlock, having him note of that being a potential problem. She walked to her desk, sitting in her chair looking away from him. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Like him, distant once he was angry. “Have fun at Nana’s.” He softly said walking to her to place a kiss on her head.

“Love you.” She mumbled looking over at him.

“Love ya too dovie. I’ll see ya after work.”

She nodded to his comment as he walked out to face you. You sighed smirking. “Of course daddy comes to save the day.”

Simon smirked as he walked up to you placing his hands on your hips. “She’ll come ‘round,” He whispers kissing your neck. “Want baby 4?”

You pushed him off, giggling. Your stomach swirling with excitement. “Oh no Tessa have you the swirl,” He kissed your neck again, mumbling a yes. “Oh stop it, you’re gonna be late. Get going.” You giggled pushing him gently off before kissing his cheek.

When you turned he slapped your ass. His favorite thing to look, touch, grab. You scoffed, shaking your head while chuckling. Heading down the stairs to the other two girls. Simon smiled as you watched the two play, his girls. His angels. And the thing was…He would never change a thing.

#Spotify #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #dad!simon ghost riley #dad!ghost #daddy!simon #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two | part three

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue lunch break visits, rocky road ice cream, a too-big bouquet, and the rainbow connection.

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, tw talk of dying (and past lives)

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You're dozing against the back wall in the kitchen when Benny clears his throat. The grease back here while he's cooking tends to get pretty thick and you're tired to begin with. It's a recipe for nodding off. 

Flinching into a proper standing position, you give your boss an apologetic smile. "What?" you ask, blinking hard. 

"Your boy's here." 

"My boy?" 

"Curly hair, tattoos. Looks like he hasn't showered this week. Or any week, actually." Benny laughs, a chesty, self-satisfied chuckle. 

You rush to his side, careful of the spitting hot grill, and follow his gaze out of the kitchen window. Eddie's about two seconds away from opening the glass door, clad in his smart work uniform. 

"He's not my boy," you say. 

Benny scrapes his spatula across the grill's bubbling surface and flips a burger. "If he's the reason you're tired today, you can consider him banned. He's ruining my best waitress." 

"I'm your only waitress." The door opens. Eddie stops in the doorway and casts his gaze around the room. You hide behind the wall and fuss with your hair. "And no, he's not keeping me up. It's Junie." Isn't it always Junie? She's your baby and you adore her, but that doesn't mean she's getting any easier to handle. The terrible twos are persevering with a ferocity you can't quite withstand, or at the very least sleep through. 

"He eating?" Benny asks. 

"I'll go find out." 

You wipe the oil from your nose and grimace as you walk out into the actual seating area of the diner. It's empty but for one person and Eddie, who grins when he sees you. 

"Hey, sweet thing." 

You try not to show how much you like being called 'sweet thing'. Your face must betray you somehow because Eddie's grin turns smug and he approaches until he's basically stepping on your toes. 

"How's it hanging?"

You snort. "Benny asked if you're eating." 

"What's today's special?" 

"Cheeseburger." 

He fixes your shirt collar. You can feel the warmth of his fingers and the cooler metal of a ring grace your throat. "Yeah, I'm eating." 

You report back to Benny with his order and find the cook's already added two burgers to the grill. He points his spatula at the now grilled and constructed burger for Darren. If you hadn't taken it you'd still know who's it was; Benny's regulars are loyal to a fault. The same old guys come in here day in and day out, and they all want the same thing. 

Quarter pounders. 

You take it, twist around a childish Eddie trying to trip you up and deliver it to Darren, a frowny-faced farm-hand that Benny swears is a nice guy deep down. You've yet to dig far enough. 

Eddie tries to trip you up again when you come back. You glare at him, stepping on his toes gently – more a threat than a real show of aggression – and disappear again through the kitchen door.

"So." Benny throws down a basket of fries before moving to the chopping board with a fresh tomato in hand. "He's your boyfriend?" 

"Do we have to do this?" you ask, joining him at the chopping board. You try to snag a slice of tomato and are quickly tutted away. 

"Is he?" 

"No," you say, trying again for some tomato. 

"Kid, if you don't wait." 

You pout and set back on your heels. 

The burgers sizzle. Benny throws a slice of cheese over Eddie's and lets it melt. Quicker than you can believe, Benny constructs two burgers and fills a red plastic basket with fries. 

He offers them to you. "Lunch break." 

Free food. You smile at him sheepishly and try to take them. He pulls his arms back.

"Wha-" 

"If he's your boyfriend, you better tell me now." 

"Benny, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an adult. Already got knocked up once." 

"And where is he now?" 

Chastised, you mumble, "He's not my boyfriend," and Benny finally hands over the food. He looks like he might try to ruffle your hair if you stick around, so you knock open the kitchen door with your hip and make a speedy exit. 

"What's with the face?" Eddie asks as you sit, reaching for the hot plate balancing across your forearm.

"I think Benny just tried to give me a dad talk." 

He laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Really? What did he say?" 

You shake your head. That's not a bag of worms you're interested in delving into right now. Your brains too fried, and the food smells great. Your stomach aches with hunger. 

"You want a coke?" you ask. 

Eddie stands up. "I'll get them. Sit down, okay?"

You sit down and shove a greedy handful of fries into your mouth, turning in your seat to watch Eddie talk.

He leans over the metal ledge of the kitchen window. It's quiet enough to hear him laugh, hear him say, "No, sir," in a tone that borders sarcastic. 

He wields a five dollar bill at Benny, who shoots him down.

"Put it in the Junie jar," Benny says. 

"Junie jar?" Eddie questions, though he's smiling. 

Your eyebrows furrow at the expression. You've never heard it either. 

"I don't bother pretending she spends it on anything else."

"You got that right." 

You flush with heat all the way to to the tips of your ears and turn back to the table before Eddie can catch you watching. 

He throws himself into his seat like he's collapsed. The twin cokes in his hands upheave and then splash back into themselves, an impressive and ridiculous show of skill that makes you gasp. 

"For you." He shoves a glass down next to you. The ice cubes clink. 

"Thank you," you say, and don't waste any time digging into your food.

He squints at your eager eating, though he waits until you've taken the worlds biggest bite of your burger before he asks, "Hungry?" 

You swallow before you mean to and have to take a big sip of your drink to avoid choking to death. "I didn't eat breakfast." 

"How come?" 

You can't take his concern. Your eyes drop this hand where it picks through fries, no rings in sight. He’d told you once he can’t wear them at work, because he gets really warm and the rings are costume jewellery. His hands look bare without them, but they’re very nice hands. You follow the stark line of a bone down from his knuckles and focus in on his simple wrist watch as you explain. 

"It took me an hour to get her to finish a slice of toast this morning. I usually wouldn’t make her finish, but she's not eating well." 

You don't have to say who. Eddie tips his head back to eat a handful of fries like a courtesan eating grapes, all grandness. 

"Teething?" 

"She has all her teeth already," you say. A laugh bubbles up, delighted at his suggestion. 

"What do you think it is?" 

You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin and shrug. Eddie sees straight through your forced nonchalance. 

"No, seriously. What do you think?" 

"I don't know. Maybe she's gonna come down with the flu. She didn't sleep all night either, and…" You rub your tired eyes with the backs of your hands. "I don't know. I hope she's feeling better at pick up, but I doubt it." 

"How are you feeling?" He says 'you' softly, almost crooning. 

"Tired, Eds." 

"I can see that." 

The door opens and a breeze whips your ankles. You hide them further under the table and cringe when you kick Eddie straight in the foot. He only raises his eyebrow at you and kicks you back. "What's your problem?" he mumbles under his breath, smiling. 

When the burgers are gone and there's only a couple of cold fries left, you and Eddie fall into conversation about tonight. He's finally playing a gig after months without one, and you're riddled with guilt. 

"I wish I could come," you tell him, feeling gutted that you won't see him in action. 

You wonder what he looks like on stage. Sometimes it's hard to coalesce the Eddie you know and the other Eddie, rocker Eddie. He's so sweet. The image of him on stage and sweating, rocking out, you can't summon it. 

You clear your throat. "I'm sorry we can't." 

Eddie shakes his head quickly, fingers playing with the chain around his left wrist. "Don't worry about it. Junebugs's gotta sleep. You gotta sleep." 

You pick at your nails, shame-faced. If you were a good friend you'd go and see him perform, but you're a good mom so you can't. Maybe you could get a sitter… only you don't trust anybody to look after her. Not the way you would. And people can be evil.

Maybe I could take her to the Hideout, you think tentatively.

You couldn't. It's too loud, it's too rowdy. You're not sure they'd even let you in with a baby. 

"Sorry," you say again, dropping your cheek into your palm. 

Eddie doesn't smile. He turns his wrist, the back of his hand to the table and his palm open between you. 

"Don't be sorry," he says. He watches your face and slowly, slowly, mischief creeps into his expression. "How about I give you a private show?" 

Your breath catches in your throat. 

"You and June've never heard me play. I could bring an amp. June can play drums. You'll sing." 

His allocation shocks you out of your thoughts. "Why can't you sing?" 

"What will you do, then? If I sing?"

You flounder.

He lifts his coke to his lips and smirks at your silence. "Exactly." 

"Eddie, I can't sing." 

He waves his hand at you rather than answer. 

"I won't sing." 

"Oh, you won't?" he asks, tone enough to make you cross your legs under the table. He rolls his eyes. 

"No. Let Junie do it. She's always singing." 

"And you'll-? What?"  

You shrug. He imitates you, over-exaggerated enough to make you gasp a laugh.

“Is that supposed to be me?"  

He ignores your question in favour of his own. "You'll do nothing. Typical." 

"You're getting too big for your boots, Munson," you warn, sliding his plate on top of yours. 

He stacks your empty glasses. The two of you stand and linger. He should go back to work. You should too.

"I'll come over tomorrow?" he asks finally. 

"Okay." You look over him in his clean clothes and neater than usual hair and can't help smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say quietly, opening your arms just slightly. 

Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms quickly around your shoulders, careful of the plates in your hand. He rubs them once, a good, grounding pressure across the breadth of your back. Your nose presses against his neck. He smells like aftershave and cigarette smoke and skin. 

Before you know it he's pulling away, the end to an amicable embrace between friends. Almost disappointing, not quite what you want anymore, but a relief and a comfort all the same. 

He chucks your chin. "Tell Junie I miss her." 

"I will."

"Okay." He turns to walk away. "Bye, sweetheart," he shoots over his shoulder. 

"Bye!" you call. 

The door shudders in his wake. You stand there watching until Benny clears his throat pointedly and asks you to come and make some more coffee. 

You rush through the rest of the day. You finish earlier than you should because Benny's in a gracious mood, thrusting your tip jar into your arms with a command to get some sleep. You promise you'll try your best and head out for the daycare. 

Junie's asleep in a bean bag by the baby gate when you get there. You stop dead in your tracks. She has her shoes and coat on already, her backpack in her lap. You look up at the childcare worker in charge today, a nice lady called Deborah, quizzically. 

"She's been like that for an hour. I'm sorry we couldn't keep her awake." 

You pout at Junie. "Why she got her coat on?" 

"She insisted. Screamed bloody murder. Think she was excited to see you," she says, smiling softly. 

You smile in return. "Thank you, Deborah. Have a nice weekend.”

Deborah nods and disappears back into the play room. You open the baby gate with likely less dexterity than you should have as a mom and drop to your knees in front of the beanbag, careful not to make too much noise. You're wondering if you can carry her to the car without waking her up when her foot moves, then her arms. They fall to her side as her eyes open. 

"Hey, baby," you say, feeling weirdly emotional. She looks so lovely and pretty, and if she's sick that's gonna pluck your heart strings (and cause a boat load of problems). 

"Mommy," she mumbles, eyes bleary.

"That's me." You reach out to squeeze her little thigh. "My poor girl, what's the matter? Does your tummy hurt?" you ask carefully.

She blinks. 

"Why're you sitting here all by yourself? You didn't want to play with Adrien? Or Lucy?"

When she doesn't reply you take her backpack and thread your hand through the strap, offering your open arms to her. She can barely sit up, her movements slow and sluggish. 

"Here," you murmur, sliding your hands under her armpits and pulling her into your chest. 

She finally smiles, hands bunched up at the collar of your shirt. You leave some room to look at her and she looks at you. You're surprised she's not whining or crying. 

"Hey," you say again, amazed at her droopy smile. "You look like you've had a good day." 

Her head drops forward. You think she's nodding, though that might be wishful thinking. You don't even know if toddlers can nod. 

Of course they can nod, you think to yourself scathingly. I mean… can they? 

And Junie isn't like most toddlers. She hasn't really done anything by the book. She meets milestones when she wants to, sometimes early, sometimes really, really late. 

You pat her back, her nylon coat crinkly under your hand. "Ready to go home?" 

You stand up with her clutched to your chest. Usually you'd have her say goodbye to Deborah or the other daycare workers but Junie doesn't look like she knows her own name right now. You frown at her and encourage her forehead against your chin, trying to gauge if she's a little warmer than usual. 

"I missed you," you tell her honestly. You miss her every single day. "I want to know everything you did today. Do you remember what you did?"

Junie pushes against your chest with her hand as you walk out of the daycare centre and into the parking lot. 

"Did you do… colouring? Or… building blocks? Did you sing?" you ask, grinning. 

You cross the road, and when you look back she's staring at you, straight into your eyes. 

"Hi," you say with a laugh. 

Her hands rise to your face, fingers thankfully clean and warm against your wind-bitten cheeks. You slow, gazing down at her expectantly. She raises her chin as high as she can and smiles big. 

"You want a kiss. I can tell," you croon smugly. 

She kisses you. It's a little drooly as baby kisses always are, but it's the best thing that's happened to you all day. It's always so surprising when she initiates affection. That she loves you just as much as you love her. 

You steal another kiss. 

"Guess what?" you ask, reaching a hand to stroke a little baby hair back. 

She says a word that isn't real. It sounds like 'mod'. 

"It's payday today, which means…" You beam at her. "Ice cream!" 

That grabs her attention. 

-

Eddie can't believe it. "You had what without me?" he asks over the phone. 

Junie herds your knees, arms around your legs and face turned to the TV. You stand slumped against the wall where your phone is plugged, curling the landline's coiled cord around your finger so Junie can't grab it. 

"Ice cream," you supply helpfully. 

His voice isn't easy to understand. The Hideout is a very loud place. Eddie's practically shouting down the line. "I can't believe it." 

"It couldn't be helped. She needed to be tempted." 

"Tempted! Has she eaten anything else?" 

You look down at the girl in question and reach down to rub her back. "Oh yeah. She ate like, an entire bag of lays, one of the big ones. She still smells like honey barbecue." 

"Nothing else?" 

You sigh, that creeping, ringing thought edging in. You're a bad mom. 

"I made her cereal, and celery sticks and sandwiches and little cut up peaches and- and she won't touch any of it," you say, like you're promising. Your tone begs to be believed.

There's a loud racket. Eddie shouts, "What did you say? I can't hear you!" 

You repeat yourself. You miss the start of what he's saying, but you catch, "-not your fault! She's probably just having a moment. You remember when she kept throwing her bottle? She doesn't do that anymore." 

You nod. "Yeah, maybe it's like that. She's figuring she has choices." Not the best timing for your kid to decide she's gonna get picky. 

"Exactly! Or maybe she is sick. Does she look sick?"

You look back down at Junie and feel across her smooth forehead for the twentieth time today. "She doesn't feel warm." 

"Good. I'm sure she-" You miss the rest. 

"I can't hear you," you say with a small laugh. "I can hear the drum kit though. Are you going on soon?"

"I said, 'I'm sure she's fine.' And yeah, couple of minutes." 

"Okay. Um. I'll let you go, then." 

"Okay." A small gap where you think he's hung up, but then, "Can I talk to her?" 

You bite back a smile. "Sure." 

You kneel down. Junie looks a short fall from suspicion, though her arms quickly reach out for a hug.

"June, d'you wanna talk to Eddie?" 

"Eddie?" she asks, turning to the door. 

You catch her hand before she can walk away. "No, babe, on the phone." 

You sit down flat with your legs crossed and encourage her to do the same. She doesn't not want to be encouraged, eyes still trained on the door. 

"Baby," you say, though you're bringing the phone to your mouth as you do. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here." 

"Okay, I'm gonna pass her the phone and you're gonna have to talk straight away, because she doesn't know how it works. Alright?"  

"Yeah, alright. Bring on the junebug." 

You press the phone to Junie's ear. She looks startled and then annoyed, shoulder hiking and head moving in like she might push it away. You can see the moment she realises Eddie is on the other side, her lips part and her eyes widen in wonder. 

She listens for a while, flabbergasted. You think you might be able to hear his voice. Not what he's saying, but his bubbly baby tone. 

"Eddie," she says suddenly. She looks at you, says a bunch of nonsense words and babbling punctuated by Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

"Are you listening to him?" you ask, excited at her recognition. 

She grabs the phone out of your hand and stares at it. You try to wrangle it back and put it back to her ear. She is not happy. 

Hardly news that your toddler's mood may swing, you shove the phone between your head and your shoulder and wrap her up in your arms with a placating shush. She starts to cry regardless. You think they might be crocodile tears. 

"Eddie?" 

"Sweetheart, I gotta go, okay? I'm sorry if I upset June–" 

"You didn't, you didn't, she–" 

"– I'll make it up to you, I swear."

"– misses you, I think–" 

"See you tomorrow, okay?" 

"Okay. Good luck!" you say. The line's already dead. The dial tone makes your ear prickle. 

You feel upset for a second. It's a mess of feelings. You're too tired to deal with any of them. 

"Eddie?" Junie asks, hands pulling at the hem of her nightie. 

"Just mommy," you say with a smile. The longer she looks at you the easier it gets. "You wanna go to bed and cuddle?" 

She laughs and runs away from you.

"I'll take that as a no." 

-

Eddie knocks the door and doesn't get an answer. 

He pauses, a bouquet behind his back and his acoustic guitar heavy around his neck, a grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. It's a very heavy grocery bag. He'd figured he has a lot of apologising to do this afternoon. 

It seems like there's no one home to apologise to. 

"Girls? It's me." 

Still no answer. 

"Eddie," he adds, like a loser.

He thinks he can hear small footsteps. 

"Eddie!" 

He laughs to himself. "Junebug? Where's mommy?" 

"Hello?" you call finally. 

"Hey, can you let me in?" 

He keeps the flowers hidden firmly behind his back as you open the door. He hears the deadbolt, the chain slide free and then the regular old lock unlocking, and you pull the door open and suddenly he can't breathe. You look that pretty. 

"Eddie!" Junie shouts, to his pleasure. 

You grin brilliantly as he steps over the threshold. 

Junie's arms are quickly around his legs. She's in a sweet blue dress and frilly socks looking almost as pretty as her mom does, hair neat and tidy, face pristine. 

You're nearly matching her. You've a soft white shirt on, tucked into a simple blue skirt and a cardigan to match. 

You barely stop to look at him, flitting back to the kitchen where you’ve brown paper bags upended, the fridge and freezer doors both wide open. "Sorry, I'm just putting the groceries away. How did the gig go? Did you rock the house?" You giggle to yourself.

Eddie wants to scream, you’re that endearing. “It went great. Awesome. Not sure I rocked the house, but it was metal.”

"Amazing! I- I'm sorry I didn't hear you, I was in my own head," you say as you go, stepping over toys and frozen peas and Junie's Muppet Babies backpack like a natural. He notices your small white socks and feels himself slipping that little bit further into a terrifying feeling.

He doesn't have time to tell you it's okay, or that he wishes you’d been at the gig, or to watch your step. Junies's babbling for his attention and he'd rather die than not give it to her, moving the grocery bag he has hanging from his hand over her head and tossing it toward the couch, where it lands and spills. 

"Okay, June, I'm gonna pick you up," he says quickly, pulling the guitar over his head. He props it up by the open doorway, Junie tugging at his jeans the whole while. 

"So demanding!" he teases, scooping her up to prop on his hip and unveiling the flowers at the same time. 

You aren't looking. He nudges them towards her face and shakes them gently. 

Junie can't decide what's more fun, the flowers or Eddie. She wraps her arms around his neck as best as she can but stares at the flowers with a dawning comprehension. 

"What are these, baby?" he asks, holding them lower so she can see them all in view. They're mostly red. There's some whites too, big round roses among other flowers he can't name. 

"Red," she says quickly. "White. Yellow, blue, green." 

She's not right, there aren't any yellows or blues, but he can only blame himself for drilling them into her the way he had. She's showing off that she knows them all, and she deserves some praise. 

"Good job! Red, white," he shakes the bouquet enough to reveal a few small pink ones, "pink flowers. They're pretty, don't you think? Pretty as you and mommy?" He hums to himself, patting her back thoughtfully. “Maybe not that pretty." 

You're not listening. If you were he's not sure he could say it, not while you're looking like you do. You're always pretty, always, but right now he feels like he did the first time he saw you. Just gone. 

Junie tells him something, a more factual tone and air about her. He rubs the top of her upper arm encouragingly, asking, "Is that right?" 

"Do you want food?" you call. 

He sets June down on her feet and she hates it until he wraps her hands around the bouquet's neck. "Can you give these to your mom for me? Please?" Junie stares at them. "For mommy," he adds, pointing at you where you're closing the cabinet door. 

Junie, the tiny smarty-pants that she is, runs to you. Eddie's a coward for it, but he doesn't think he can give them to you himself under honest pretenses, doesn't think he could admit that he'd been thinking about getting you flowers for a while now. Much easier to have her give them to you. 

You make a sound like you've swallowed a gasp and stare at them. 

"They're nice, right? I saw them and I thought they'd make a good apology for last night." 

You don't take them. You can't contain a smile, but you don't take them. 

"I'm sorry if I made any trouble for you," he says tentatively. 

You drop your hand on top of Junie's head. Your tone is warm, each word reassuring. "No, you didn't. She just… you know, she has a routine, and she loves when you come around. She missed you. That's not your fault." 

"Okay, good. I missed her too. Nobody can jam out like she can.”

Junie whacks you in the thigh. Eddie's starting to think he did something wrong because you still haven't taken them from her, your eyes as unreadable as the way your hands move, rigid and curling. 

You shake them out and finally take the flowers. 

"Thanks, baby," you say. Then, looking at him. "Thank you." 

"You can get me back," he says. 

Shell shock turns to eagerness. "Yeah, anything." 

He picks up the spilled groceries and brandishes them at you. In one hand is this week's dessert, a huge carton of rocky road ice cream, the fancy kind with big chocolate chips and fluffy marshmallows on top. In the other, a plastic jug of your favourite drink. 

"Find room for these in the fridge?"

Since accepting them, you've yet to put down the flowers, holding them protectively to your chest as you take what he’s offering and carry them into the kitchen.

June runs full pelt at his legs and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up. 

"You're so happy today!" he cheers, saccharine sweet as she burrows her little face into his collar. "Have you been having a good day with mom? I love your matching outfits." 

You try to hide how the compliment affects you, face buried in the freezer. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that your freezer has ample room, you don’t need to look for space. and he can see the way your hand tightens around the bouquet. He loves how shy you've become lately over his compliments, no matter how small. It's worth the possibility of making a fool of himself to see you flustered. 

Junie reports back on the day. Eddie listens intently for words he might understand but finds none. 

He doesn't let this bother him, leaning against the counter behind so he can hold Junie low on his stomach to watch her expressions flicker, hands encapsulating her back. She looks happy, obviously, but she also looks very intent on something. 

"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head toward her knowingly. "Was the grocery store exciting? Did you do anything else?" 

"Duckies!" she says. 

"Duckies? You saw ducks?" he asks curiously, looking to you for confirmation. 

You're still holding your flowers to your chest. 

Junie chatters. "Duck, duck, duck." 

"What's she talking about?" he asks, pulling her up enough for her head to rub against his chin.

"Oh, we went to the duck pond. She was obsessed," you say. 

"Right, right. Can't say I blame her.” 

"Trying to explain why they weren't yellow took some dedication." 

Eddie smiles at you softly. "You can put them down, you know." 

Your eyes flicker between him and the flowers. "I- nobody's ever got me flowers before. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do with them. I don't… have a vase." 

He hadn't realised he'd be the first guy to get you flowers. It makes him wanna wrap you up and hug you, because how is it fair that a girl like you never got flowers? Not once? 

"Shit," he says instead. 

He flinches hard and looks at Junie. She's too busy with her hands in his hair to notice what he's said. He apologises anyways. 

You roll your eyes. Eddie's relieved to see it's with obvious fondness, a funny lopsided smile to your lips. 

"If she starts dropping s-bombs, you're the one who has to deal with it," you warn. 

"I will.” 

He takes a step toward you and you take a step toward him.

You hum and hold the flowers up to Junie as he had before. "Aren't these just something else? Look how pretty they are! Why don't you pick one, baby?" 

Eddie shifts her onto the right side and you both watch her touch them, hands adorably careful as she feels the leaves between her fingers and pokes the fuzzy yellow centre of a flower with white, round petals. 

"That one?" you murmur, pulling it out from the rest with the same adorable carefulness. 

Junie accepts the flower and immediately shows it to Eddie, ecstatic.

“Yellow," she proclaims. 

"And white," he says, ruffling the petals with his index finger. 

She smells like talc and you, that soft jasmine perfume, and her hair is fragrant where it tickles his face. He indulges and hugs her that little bit tighter. She indulges him in turn and hugs him back, the flower petals cold and silky against his neck. 

"How do you…" You scratch the base of your neck. "Do you think I could squeeze all the stalks into one glass?" 

It's only a bunch from the grocery store but he thinks a glass might be a little too small. "Maybe you can split it? Have one in your room, one in here." 

You set about following his suggestion, snipping away the cellophane with a pair of scissors and acquiring two tall glasses. The stalks are tall. You trim them down and begin arranging them. Eddie has no clue why you're being as particular as you are but he's happy for you to do as you please, traipsing into the living room where Junie seems to have been running rampant before his arrival with intentions of cleaning up.

He closes the front door and bends at the waist to let Junie back on her feet. 

She goes down easy enough. Eddie turns on the TV to keep her occupied while he whips around the room. He wants to clean (as best as he can) before you see him and tell him to stop. He puts your small handbag and Junie's backpack at the sideboard by the door. He sweeps up all of her toys and tucks them under the television as you would, then moves onto the rogue dirtied pajamas on the floor. They're Junie's favourites, the ones with tiny strawberries that she always chooses when given the option. 

Your laundry basket isn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. He attempts to sneak past you where you're still arranging flowers intently. The sight of you stops him in his tracks. 

I need to get her a vase, he thinks. And another bouquet.

You turn to him, a pleased expression turning your features from pretty to chest-achingly lovely. 

He holds up the pajamas and then keeps on down the hall to the bathroom, even as you chasten, "Eddie," with a fond exasperation. 

You showcase your first bouquet upon his return, sheepish, awaiting judgement. You're conflicted tonight, a handful of emotions shaken and stirred. 

"Tada," you sing. 

"Looks sick, sweetheart. If this whole waitressing thing doesn't work out for you, you could definitely be a florist."

You huff a laugh. "Oh, for sure." 

"I'm serious. It looks really nice." 

He thinks maybe he can see the way you might've been before, in that moment. There's something so young – and you are young, as he is, as he keeps forgetting – about your face and how you take praise. You look like you want desperately to brush it away, and you look like you want him to give you more. 

He stands close enough that you're forced to turn back to the counter where the second bouquet is taking form. "This one looks nice too." 

"I thought I'd put the prettiest one out here." You lean back and your shoulder presses to his chest. "And then the reject in my room," you say, chin lifted to look him dead in the eye. 

He feels heat crawling up his neck and decides to fight fire with fire, even if the fire is entirely imagined. "Do you often have rejects in your bedroom?" he questions with a smarmy smile. 

You laugh. Far from the polite and prim giggling you'd used when you first met, though that was cute, too, this laugh is something else. He wishes he had a tape deck with him to record it, play it back. 

"Only if they're very pretty," you say. You place the last of the flowers into the second bouquet. "And these ones are beautiful. Thank you, Eddie. You didn't have to get me flowers." 

"I wanted to." 

Your head falls gently against the top of his shoulder. He stands very still. 

The faucet drips. The TV plays. If he listens, Eddie can hear the sound of kids outside on their bikes, shouting and jeering. 

Like this, he can see the curve of your neck, the hill of your chin. He can see the pillows of your lips and the slopes of your cheek. The darling shape of your nose. He knows a kiss would fit there well, fit there perfectly, if he would only raise his hand to your shoulder. Turn you ever so slightly.

Even the flat of your forehead begs for affection. He can almost feel it from looking at you – the warmth of your skin under his lips. He can't decide whether he'd kiss you from temple to temple, or smack dab on your crown. Between your brows, at the tail of them. The corner of your eye might work.

Anything would work.

Eddie lifts his hand. Careful not to startle you, he cups the side of your waist like he had before a hundred moons ago when you'd cut his hair in this same kitchen. He spreads his fingers wide and inches over your soft abdomen, feeling for the shape of you. 

You turn your cheek into his shoulder. He lets his lips touch the back of your head. 

Plinking echoes from the living room sudden enough to startle you in tandem. Kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you and Eddie both turn to the living room and come away from one another. You're more confused than Eddie at the sound; a split-second and you're out of reach. 

He closes his hand and follows you. Now past the obscurification of the cabinets, he can see that Junie's finally noticed his guitar and has pulled it down flat on the floor. 

She plays with the strings enthusiastically. Eddie can't bring himself to care at her roughness when she looks the way she does, curious and entertained, giggling her contagious baby laugh. 

"I forgot you brought that," you say, looking to him, he suspects, for a cue.��A silent, Is she allowed?

Of course she is. “I told you I'd give you a private show."

"What happened to the amp?" 

"My hands were full." Eddie sits on the floor to Junie's left. "Whatcha doing, trouble?" 

She hits the neck. 

He takes her hand in a gentle grip and encourages the side of her finger across the strings. 

She laughs thick and sweet as honey. "Brmm," she imitates, lips pinching between giggles as he helps her do it again. 

"You're a total rockstar," he says. 

You kneel opposite. "She's gonna lose her mind when you play something." 

Eddie feels very smug at what's to come. 

You let Junie play for a time, and then you open your arms and she walks around to your side, sitting on your thighs. She continues to reach for the guitar, seems sulky when Eddie picks it up, and quietens when he plays an experimental note. 

"Are you gonna sing? I've heard you sing before, you know? You're not bad." 

You wrinkle your nose. 

First, he plays the Muppet Babies theme tune for June. She gets excited and starts to hum. You have to hold her in your lap to stop her from messing him up. He wouldn't mind if she did. He's hoping, maybe one day when she's old enough to understand, he could get her behind her own guitar. He's not kidding about starting a band. 

He drops his eyes to his fingers, shaking his head on instinct to try and shake away the thought. 

June sings and sings and eventually, quietly, you start to sing too. You’re purposefully not trying but any flatness is easily made up for by the familiarity of your voice alone. The way you talk, so charming and careful, the sweetness of your newfound shyness and the rough hint of ever-present tiredness you carry, it all seeps into your singing. Eddie adores it.

Junie almost gets some of the words right. It's very exciting for you, Eddie can see it in the tilt of your head. You enunciate precisely and he slows the tempo to give you time. 

"It really sounds like she's almost there. She definitely said 'dreams come true,’” he says as the song ends.

"You think?"

"Definitely. Do you want to sing it again?" he asks, words falling into a high-pitched sugar, eyes on Junie. 

"More?" you add, a slight correction. Junie doesn't know what 'again' means yet, but she understands 'more'. 

"More," she says seriously. 

You go through it one more time. If he plays slow to drag out your reluctant singing, that's his business. 

He unveils his next song with a dash of edgy stage presence. "For my next song, I'll be playing what can only be described as the absolute pinnacle of music." 

He sounds legitimate. 

Your eyebrows pinch together at his sombre attitude. "Sure." 

"I'm gonna play it as true to form as I can, but… I don't have a banjo. So…" 

He plays the first few seconds of Kermit The Frog's The Rainbow Connection. 

When he sings, he does it after an internal pep talk consisting of a scathing, Be brave, idiot. 

"Why are there so many, songs about rainbows. And what's on the other side?" he sings, trying and failing to sound like Kermit. He abandoned that pursuit immediately in favour of his regular voice. Thankfully it's a slow song. Simple. It doesn't take much to play, either. The real challenge are the lyrics, which he doesn't really know. "Rainbows are visions, but only… illusions?"

You bob your head appraisingly, hands crossed over Junies front, cheek pressed to the top of her head. 

"And rainbows have nothing to hide." 

You’re making it impossible to concentrate, looking as earnest, homespun, and ridiculously pretty as you do. Pretty in more than just your looks. The way that you watch him, the way you rub a pattern over Junie's ribs, it’s all so indicative of your heart.

He fucks up the rest. Bad timing, amateurish fingering over the struts, lyrics that escape him. You'd never know he could play Master of Puppets a month after it's debut from the way he performs now. 

You cheer, gathering Junie's hands into yours to help her clap. 

He blushes like a fool. 

—

Dinner tonight – take out. 

You're prouder than you should be when Eddie asks, "Can I help you cook tonight?" and you get to say, "No, you can't. I'm not cooking." 

You'd never shake your head at a frozen pizza but there's an irreplaceable satisfaction that comes from getting hot food delivered. Maybe it's the convenience, maybe it's that you don't have to cook it yourself. It might even be the grease. Whatever it is, it tastes better than any freezer food ever could.

You've trapped Junie in her high chair. Diaper changed, pajamas on, bib in place. You rolled her sleeves all the way up and gave her two slices of cheese pizza cut into small pieces that have been blown on for a more than generous amount of time and tell her to go ham. She doesn't bother with her plastic fork and you don't blame her, eating your own pizza in a similar fashion. 

Rather than sit opposite you or next to Junie, Eddie has opted for the chair on your left. Junie on your right, your daughter eats with an animated little grin that apples her cheeks, giving her that chubby baby-like smile. 

"You see her smile?" you ask, taking a big bite of perfect crust. You have to stop yourself from sighing happily, fingers covered in crumbs. 

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pizza sauce or his face like a little kid. 

You sit back in your chair so he can really see her. "She's always been a smiley baby, and when she was much smaller all her smiles were so chubby cheeked. She was chubby cheeked. Now when she smiles like that she makes me remember her when she was a baby." 

"I'm not surprised she was a smiley baby if she had you… D'you miss having a baby?" 

"Watch yourself," you say, and then giggle as all the blood drains from his face. "Kidding. I don't know if I miss having a baby baby. I mean, she's so little, she's practically still a baby. But I do kinda wish I could go back and hold her as a newborn." 

Eddie wipes his cheek and stands up to get some paper towels. He wipes his face and hands and grabs the juice from the fridge to fill his glass (that's basically still full) and then yours (the real reason he'd stood, you reckon). 

"Was she heavy?" he asks.

You worry for a moment he's humouring you. It's clear how much you love Junie, you know it is, and that shows in how much you want to talk about her. You'd never expected that part, though of course it makes sense – sometimes she smiles and you wanna call the newspapers – and you don't think Eddie's insincere. He seems like he genuinely wants to know and that's enough for you to want to round the table and throw your arms over his shoulders. 

"I think…" You pick up your glass and hesitate with the rim to your lip. "I think if you'd held her back then, you wouldn't think she was heavy." 

He practically smolders, bringing an arm up to tense his bicep. "Thank you." 

You laugh at him. "Shut up! I just think, you've been good with her ever since you met her. When I held her for the first time it's a good thing I was laying down. I probably would've dropped her." 

Eddie takes Junie's sippy cup to fill. You'd say it was a waste if he hadn't bought it himself, she's too busy eating her weight in cheese to care about something as rudimentary as juice. 

"You would not have dropped her." 

"I would've." 

"You wouldn't have! And if you did, it would've been an accident. Next point, they don't have skulls, right? No harm, no foul." 

"Who told you babies don't have skulls?" 

"...I'm not at liberty to say." 

You eat the rest of your crust and shake your head at his misguided education. "They have skulls, Eddie. The scalp is super soft and fragile for ages, but they definitely have skulls. You know what they don't have?" 

Eddie squeezes Junie's shoulder as he walks behind her. "What?" he asks in alarm, passing you to sit down again. His knees touch the side of your thigh.

"Kneecaps." 

His hand stops on the way to the pizza box, body frozen. 

"What?" he asks, his alarm doubled.

"Swear down. No knee caps." 

"Don't they need them? For crawling? I feel like knee caps are more important than skulls." 

"If you didn't have a skull you wouldn't be able to breathe," you say, though you're guessing. 

"What use is breathing if you can't move?" 

You turn to him to take him in properly. You beam, because this is an outlandish conversation and you're enjoying every second of it and he looks just as happy as you feel. 

"Do babies need to move? June could never move again and I'd still look after her,” you counter.

"Sweetheart, you're cheating." 

"I can't exactly breathe for her-" 

"What are you talking about? Of course you could. I don't know how but you'd find a way, Y/N, I know what you're like." 

Your teeth click together, a funny retort squashed down by his unexpected admittance of faith. He always does this; Eddie loves to tell you the kindest things anyone has ever told you like they don't cost him a thing. 

"I would," you agree, blinded by love rather than supported by any logic. 

"Mommy," Junie says, like she knows she's the topic of your hypothetical devotion and she wants in. "More pizza"

"Please?" you tack on, though her small sentence had impressed you to the point of elation. You turn to her already with your hand in the pizza box. 

"Pizza," she says. You love the way she says it, like the 'zuh' sound at the end is a complete surprise. 

The pizza's cold enough by now to give it to her intact. She's amazed at the big slice you put on her plate, picking it up with a coordination you know is taking a lot of effort for her. 

"Good job, baby," you praise, using her distraction to pull a little string of cheese off of her messy cheek. 

She takes a huge bite. You watch her worried she's gonna choke, and feel Eddie's knees press deeper into your thigh as he moves forward to join in. 

"Is it weird that she's impressing me right now?" he asks. 

You giggle and roll your shoulders back until you can feel the brush of his hair against your shirt. "No, she's awesome."

For dessert, you insist on plating up. Or bowling up. You scoop a more generous than she should really have portion for Junie, something similar for Eddie, and a normal portion for yourself. 

"On the couch?" Eddie asks. 

You can see him cleaning up Junie out of the corner of your eye. You wish he wouldn't but you're grateful that he does. His attentiveness makes your hands feel heavy in that you remember you have them, and you remember what it's like to want to hold someone else's. 

"Yeah," you say, though eating on the couch makes you nervous. You don't want to ruin it. You're lucky you even have one. 

Eddie scoops Junie up easy and pats her back.

“You put away a lot of cheese, kid. A lot. Was that yummy or what?" 

She burps. His laughter is roaring and boyish as he applauds her. 

"You're patting her back, she's gonna keep burping.”

"That's what you're supposed to do for babies, isn't it?" 

He stands under the harsh kitchen light with his face turned away and down toward Junie, hair a mess of flyaways, t-shirt covered in shiny toddler fingerprints over one shoulder and jeans slipping down low on his hips. Your explanation comes breathlessly. "When you give a baby a bottle they suck in too much air and it gives them trapped wind. You burp that kind of baby. Not greedy almost three year olds." 

"She is not almost three." 

"I think I'd know, Munson." 

"She's like, two and a half at most." 

"I'm rounding up for emphasis," you say, and glare at his eyebrows rising. 

He pats her back some more anyways. She burps again and he laughs even more. "Juniper The Burpiest," he says to himself as he walks away, voice fading as he settles down across the way on the couch. 

Junie has crashed and burned, warm thick cheese and dough putting her quickly into a close to listless state in his lap. He faces her out toward the TV and she leans heavily against his chest with his hands around her torso, propping her up. You shepherd in the desserts. 

"Gimme Junie's," Eddie says. 

"She's gonna fall asleep," you say, but pass it over anyhow. 

Eddie places the bowl of rocky road in her lap with a hand between to stop from making her legs cold and starts to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She accepts. It's adorable to watch. His face over her shoulder, Junie's face slowly deflating, eyes bleary and blinking as her lips close lazily around the spoon. She barely flinches at the cold. 

You eat your own ice cream in the seat next to them and wonder if this is forever. 

Eddie wipes her chin with the side of his hand and watches her head fall. He wears a loving smile. It makes you want to cry, to know someone else loves her. 

You let all your weight fall against his shoulder and eat your ice cream casually. This is the least casual thing you've ever done. Spoon in your mouth, you press your cheek to the top of his arm and glue your gaze to the TV. 

You swear you can feel his eyes on you, but when you chance a look he's watching the TV, head inclined to yours ever so slightly, a hand brushing Junie's hair from her dozing face. You're weak. You give yourself over to what you want and turn your nose to his arm. He smells lIke he always does, warm in the truest definition of the word. 

You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel Eddie take the bowl from your hands and set it next to Junie's. You want to open your eyes and say sorry but they’re heavier than you'd thought, and you can only manage a murmur of sound. 

His hand sliders under your elbow and curls around your arm. His head drops on top of yours so softly you almost don't feel it. 

You doze, digging your face further into his arm, feel the curve of it under your cheek and the cut off of his sleeve rising. 

A frayed thread tickles your cheek and you complain without thinking, sighing your annoyance. 

"What?" Eddie asks. 

You raise a hand to rub at your face and eyes. "Tickled me." 

"Did I? M'sorry." 

"T-shirt. Did you cut them yourself?" 

"You know it. Was going through a phase." 

"Going through." 

"Say it to my face," he says. Soft, teasing. 

You lift your head and find him smiling at you. 

He has a beauty mark under his eye, occluded near completely by his eyelashes. You can't believe you've never noticed it before. 

"You have a freckle," you whisper.

"Where?" He nods. "Under my eye?" 

"Yeah." 

You sit up and stare at him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I've never seen it before," you continue, still whispering. "It blends in with your eyelashes." 

"I think you're the first person to see it who isn't my mom. No one ever looks at me this long,” he says quietly.

If his eyes weren't closed you'd never have had the courage to do what you do next. You raise your hand with his cheek, thumb pressed to the skin beside his nose and fingers slipped under his ear. You turn his face toward the light. Eddie lets you without complaint, his breath warm where it fans over your thumb. You push your fingers further until they've threaded into his soft hair, your thumb brushing up under his eye. You part his mess of dainty lashes with your thumbnail until the beauty mark is clear in view. 

"That's so sweet," you whisper, awed. 

Eddie readjusts Junie in his lap with an overabundance of caution and doesn't speak. He's lax under your touch. 

"It's really pretty. You had it since you were a baby?" 

"I think so." 

You laugh under your breath. 

"What?" he asks. 

"It suits you." Something pretty hiding in plain view. 

"I heard," he says hedgingly, "that freckles are a sign of how you died in a past life." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. Bet it was something really gross, like a parasitic worm-" 

"Ew." 

"Or someone stabbed me. Or shot me. With an arrow." 

"You're only twenty. Your past life would have still been in this century." 

Eddie opens his eyes just to glare at you. "Don't deprive me of a badass past life. How would you have had me die?" 

You push his hair from his face. "You know what I heard about them?" 

"What?" 

Fun to whisper with him like this. Like you’re younger than you are, trading secrets in the dim light. 

"I heard they're kisses from a past life." 

You raise your second hand to his cheek and cradle his face. 

Eddie leans into it. “You wanna give me one for the next?” he asks, a short fall from salacious. 

Your breath doesn’t catch. Your hands don’t shake. “Is that what you want?”

He falters. Bravado slips. Your heart skips a beat, worried maybe he doesn’t like you the way you’re thinking after all. 

“Y/N,” he says.

You can’t hear his rejection. You won’t. 

You close your eyes and kiss his cheek. Your nose slides over his skin, the heat of his blood under the surface warming your palms, and you steal a second there, two, breathing in his smell. If this is all you get, you can be okay with it. Eventually.

You pull away. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter 

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

please forgive any mistakes and how long it took, i have been a bit unwell! hopefully it won’t be too long before part four :3

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader

[rxmqnova]

Wanda is R's mother

R gets assigned to Natasha's classroom. And has trouble getting used to her Mommy's girlfriend being her teacher.

The teacher

Y/N: 5 years old ——————————

NO ONE'S POV "Y/N, come on. We don't have all day. I need to go to work" Wanda sighs, attempting to get her daughter out of the car.

"Nooo" Y/N cries out, holding tightly onto her car seat while Wanda's trying to lift her up again.

Ignoring her daughter's cries, Wanda finally manages to get Y/N out of the car, carrying her to the classroom.

Natasha furrows her brows when she sees her girlfriend appear in the classroom, immediately standing up and walking to her.

"Hi, is everything okay?" She asks, noticing Y/N's pout, puffy eyes and wet cheeks. "Oh no, what happened, Y/N/N?" She asks softly, placing her hand on Y/N's back, only for Y/N to push her hand away.

"That wasn't nice, Y/N. What do you say to Natasha?" Wanda raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, Natasha" Y/N mumbles out.

"That's okay" Natasha smiles at the little girl, not receiving a smile back as she normally would.

It's been only a few days since Y/N started going to school, but ever since then her relationship with Natasha has only gotten worse. She loves Natasha, she's her second favorite person after her mommy, but she still can't accept the fact that her mommy's girlfriend is her teacher for the next few years.

"Alright, honey. Have a good day" Wanda stands Y/N on the ground, giving her a smile even though the little girl is just pouting with her arms crossed over her chest.

Wanda lets out a sigh and just kisses her daughter's forehead before telling her girlfriend goodbye and leaving the classroom.

Natasha glances at the little girl with concern. She would want nothing more than to comfort her, but she knows too well that it would only get worse, so she just leaves the tiny troublemaker alone.

Meanwhile Y/N's now sitting on her seat in the first row, wishing she would be taller so she could sit in the back of the classroom.

Natasha knows Y/N's upset, but when the lesson starts and Y/N doesn't do anything else than staring out of the window she knows she needs to have a talk with her.

"Y/N, can you come here for a moment?" Natasha asks softly right after the first lesson ends and gets a shake of a head from the little girl.

"Alright" The redhead sighs to herself and makes her way over to Y/N. "No, go away, Natasha" Y/N whines, her little eyes filling with tears. "Don't want to talk to you" She pouts, looking up at the redhead who's a little clueless about what to do.

She wants to comfort the tiny girl, but that could result into a meltdown and Natasha definitely doesn't want that. Or she can just let it be and have a talk with Y/N back home.

She decides to leave the talk at home and goes back to her desk, checking Y/N up every now and then to make sure she's alright.

———

When the endless school day finally comes to an end and all of the children leave with their parents, besides Y/N as she's going home with Natasha of course, the redhead walks to Y/N's desk where the little girl keeps sitting.

"Sweetheart, let's go home, yeah?" She says softly with a smile.

"Want mommy to come for me" Y/N mumbles out, not looking at the woman in front of her.

"Honey, mommy is still at work you know that" Natasha sighs, knowing this won't be as easy as she thought it would be. "Do you want to tell me what got you so upset today, bubs?" She tries only to get a shake of a head in response.

"… How about we stop at ice cream on the way home, hm? Would that make you feel better?" Natasha knows this never fails, Y/N just can't say no to ice cream and luckily for Natasha, it works this time too and she gets a small nod from the little trouble.

Y/N jumps down from her chair and follows Natasha out of the classroom, and to the car. Natasha sighs in relief when Y/N's secured in the backseat and she's sitting behind the wheel.

Just like Natasha promised, she drives them to Y/N's favorite ice cream parlor. That makes Y/N smile for the first time today, especially when she gets her favorite flavor.

Now both girls are sitting on the bench nearby the ice cream parlor, Y/N's swinging her legs and happily eating her ice cream while Natasha's watching her with a soft smile.

"Now, how about you tell me what's going on, honey?" Natasha asks just when Y/N finishes the sweet treat.

"Nothing" The little girl mumbles out, avoiding any possible eye-contact with the redhead.

"You know I can tell when you're lying, sweetheart" Natasha raises an eyebrow on which Y/N lets out a sigh. "You can tell me anything, you know that, sweetheart"

"… I don't like that you're my teacher" The tiny girl mumbles out quietly, hoping Natasha didn't hear it.

"Why so, sweetheart?" The redhead asks softly, placing her hand on Y/N's back and giving her back a little rub to comfort her.

"You're my mommy's girlfriend" Y/N says, finally looking up at Natasha.

"I am, and you and I are really good friends, aren't we? Isn't it fun we get to spend more time together?" Natasha smiles, trying to cheer up the little troublemaker.

"It's weird" Y/N pouts, so Natasha playfully pouts back and boops Y/N's nose which finally causes a giggle from the little girl.

"It has some benefits, I can help you with homework" Natasha teases which catches Y/N's attention.

"Really?" Y/N asks curiously.

"Of course, but only if you promise me there won't be any more tears before school" Natasha raises an eyebrow playfully, earning a nod from the tiny Maximoff.

"I promise, Natty" Y/N smiles, making Natasha smile back.

"Good. Should we go home and watch a cartoon together before mommy comes back home from work?" Natasha smiles, running her fingers through Y/N's hair, earning an immediate nod.

And that's how Wanda finds them when she comes home, her two favorite girls cuddled up on the couch, watching Y/N's favorite cartoon. Wanda surely can't wait to join her girls for a movie night and cuddles.

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

I've spent my entire weekend by listening to ttpd <33

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ grumpy!rafe x sunshine!reader hc’s

warnings: swearing, nsfw.

: ̗̀➛ rafe secretly adores the way y/n greets everyone who passes them in the street as they walk through town, though he’d never admit that.

: ̗̀➛ also gives her lectures about being so kind to everyone she meets, he worries they’ll take advantage of it.

: ̗̀➛ constantly saying no to buying random shit that y/n absolutely does not need.

: ̗̀➛ whilst also secretly making note of the random shit she asks for, surprising her later in the week with them.

: ̗̀➛ rafe will always eat the ice cream he bought her when she decides she doesn’t want it anymore.

: ̗̀➛ despite his constant grumbling about her ray of sunshine attitude, seeing her so happy all the time pulls on his heart strings a bit (yes, he has a heart. only for her though)

: ̗̀➛ scary boyfriend privileges!!!

: ̗̀➛ always standing right behind her in most situations, giving any assholes a chance to reconsider trying to hit on her.

: ̗̀➛ y/n never goes anywhere by herself if he can help it, not particularly trusting her to be able to see people’s real intentions.

: ̗̀➛ despite bad blood between them, rafe entrusts jj with y/n’s safety whenever she hangs out with the pogues.

: ̗̀➛ rafe’s hands are always on her. always. whether that be an arm around her waist, slapping her ass in the street or holding her hand.

: ̗̀➛ everyone on the island knows her as the girl who managed to get the rafe cameron wrapped around her little finger.

: ̗̀➛ does not let her do drugs. well, maybe she gets a tad stoned with him here and there, but that’s it. and only with him.

: ̗̀➛ tries his best to convince you to go to parties with him, knowing that otherwise you’ll just be holed up at home.

: ̗̀➛ dealer!rafe flat out refuses to let her get involved, even just the thought of her getting hurt drives him insane.

: ̗̀➛ at parties, if he absolutely has to be away from her, he’ll keep a watchful eye on her from the corner of the room.

: ̗̀➛ stalking over when a clueless touron tries talking to you.

: ̗̀➛” you wanna back up buddy..” he warns them.

: ̗̀➛ “rafe it’s okay! it’s fine just leave it!” y/n pleads, not really wanting to have to clean rafe’s bloody knuckles again.

: ̗̀➛ rafe dragging her out to the car, buckling her in before driving to a secluded spot.

: ̗̀➛ “get in the back baby”

: ̗̀➛ rafe absolutely ruining her in the back of his car, letting out all of his frustration on her.

: ̗̀➛ “get on top angel”

: ̗̀➛ carrying her to bed once they get home, removing her clothes before devouring her wetness as a reward for being such a good girl that day.

: ̗̀➛ rafe’s good girl.

#dom!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafecameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe x reader

[chimielie]

what it is

summary: Oikawa x Reader. he makes it out of the friendzone (with some help)

word count: 1.3k

cw: nothing, oikawa in glasses

a/n: i wrote this in under an hour while heavily caffeinated?;!;!4& brain melting

“You’re late,” you say with a grin. Oikawa Tooru pouts at you, his team jacket folded over his arms. He’s already changed out of uniform, you notice; must have exchanged it for a white t-shirt and slacks in the locker room.

“I was swarmed,” he claims as the two of you start to walk together. You roll your eyes and don’t even bother making a jab about his popularity with the girls (and people of all genders, really). At this point, you’ve accepted that deranged fans come with the territory of being friends with the volleyball team captain.

You met Oikawa on the first day of your first year at Aoba Johsai and had been friends ever since. Even though you had no interest in the sport at first, his love for volleyball was infectious. He had even roped you into being the team’s manager. You still weren’t sure how he had pulled that off, but you didn’t mind too much—you’d grown to love the team and the sport too, in your own way.

Despite your closeness, you’d never really understood why he had a fan club, especially as a teenage school athlete. You expected his popularity to grow when (not if) he went professional, but the idea of swooning over some guy you had pre-calculus classes with was totally foreign to you. It was a running joke among your friends that you were immune to Oikawa’s looks and charming magnetism (and, honestly, to all four of the team’s upperclassmen. You could acknowledge how objectively attractive they all were even though none of them seemed to fit your niche).

Sometimes, you caught Oikawa making strange expressions while your friends teased you about not liking him. It felt like you were the only one who noticed these kinds of things, sometimes. You really liked being able to read him so easily: both of you had saved each other under the contact name “Platonic Soulmate” in your phones.

You chalked up the weird faces to your friend’s first-rate ego, and even though you knew that the notion of one person not being desperately in love with him wouldn’t scratch the surface of his self-esteem, you always found yourself taking his hand surreptitiously or leaning your head on his shoulder when you did see him looking mopey. He always perked up, after that, and all would be sunshine again.

Today, everyone else had bailed on you when you suggested a joint ice-cream-and-study-date before next week’s exams. Iwaizumi had claimed that Oikawa was too loud and always distracted him, so he couldn’t seriously try to study together. Matsukawa had to babysit and refused to bring the brats, as he affectionately called his siblings, to get sweets. Hanamaki had just quirked his eyebrows at you and said, “I don’t feel like third wheeling. Thanks, but no thanks.”

You hadn’t really understood what he meant, but you hadn’t questioned it.

Oikawa had almost begged off to do some solo practice, too, but you’d made a fuss about nearing the end of your high school experience and worrying that you would fall out of touch when volleyball became his whole life (even moreso than it was now!), and he’d caved with an overdramatic sigh and a soft look that told you he wasn’t all that mad about your guilt-tripping.

You’re broken from your thoughts when you reach the ice-cream shop, Oikawa jabbering in your ear about some drama you can’t keep up with.

“And then she told me—ah, I can’t read the menu. You know, they were late refilling my contact prescription this month, so I’ve been carrying around my glasses, I hate it. So unflattering.”

You worry your lip as you stare at the flavor chart, barely listening to him talk.

“I’m sure it’s,” you start, turning to him as he slides the case out of his pocket and puts the frames on his face in a smooth motion. “Um.”

The glasses are not unflattering, you think dumbly, staring at him, your sentence hanging unfinished. The glasses perch on his nose perfectly, making you appreciate, for the first time, the shape of his nose and his cheekbones. Had they always been that sharp? And since when had his eyes been so pretty, reflecting the sunlight in so many shades, framed with long eyelashes that would have made you jealous if you weren’t so—

You reach out and lift the glasses off his face slowly, hoping that the old, familiar features that you’d never felt anything but friendship-friendly feelings towards would return. You can still see it, though: the divot of his Cupid’s bow is appealing, now, his smooth skin glowing to you, his surprised expression fucking adorable. You drop the frames back onto his nose.

Very abruptly, whatever immunity you once had to Oikawa’s looks is demolished in one fell swoop.

“I have to go have a midlife crisis,” you say decisively, and march out of the shop.

“Hey! What—where are you going? You’re not even middle-aged?” Oikawa calls after you, and you try steadfastly to ignore him, but every sense seems to have been awakened to your friend. Your face flushes, and you start walking faster, nearing the pace of a jog even though your limbs are stiff.

You finally pull over in a quieter, slightly more secluded spot between two buildings. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, trying to remind yourself to take deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Oikawa says, and you curse his long, athlete legs for having followed you so swiftly. “What’s wrong?”

You open your eyes. He’s still wearing the fucking glasses. Rest in peace, you think to yourself, surely my heart is going to give up soon, at the rate it’s going. Your lips part, but you can’t seem to get the words out. His worried gaze studies you until he finds something—exactly whatever you didn’t want him to see. A slow smile unfurls over his face, and you narrow your eyes. Ugh, how dare his smugness be attractive too, now?

“I should wear the glasses more often, huh?” He says, and you shake your head no frantically.

“Please don’t,” you say. “It’s, like, it doesn’t even matter anymore, anyway, I can’t unsee it now.”

“Unsee what?” He cocks his head, and he’s getting closer, and there’s nowhere to back away from him because you’re up against a wall—

“You’re hot!” You wail. “I saw it and I’m never gonna stop thinking it now, it doesn’t even matter what you wear, I’m doomed! This is the worst thing ever, ‘Kawa, how’m I supposed to go on… I can’t be your friend and a part of your fan club. I don’t think I can even be a part of your fan club ‘cause I don’t just think you’re hot, I think I have a crush on you—oh, my God, I have a c—”

Your increasingly frantic rambling is cut off by Oikawa sealing his lips to yours. The kiss is quick and sweet, and when he pulls away he still looks so, so handsome, and so concerned.

“Please breathe,” he says, and you nod, gaping at him in shock. “I like you too, okay? Please stop having a crisis.

“Okay,” you exhale, bracing your hands on his shoulders. “Okay. I’m still freaking out, though. I think the only way to stop it is to keep kissing me.”

Oikawa heaves a big, overdramatic sigh, and leans in, his glasses bumping your face; giving in to you, just like he always does.

#WAS this inspired by the time i saw my bf in glasses and literally went to my friend’s dorm and screamed for sixteen seconds (he timed it) #well i’m not telling. that’s a secret. #oikawa: i like you #reader (visions of oikawa in that godawful plaid outfit swimming thru their head): i think even that’s hot now. i have to get a lobotomy #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tōru x reader #oikawa fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! x reader fluff #hq x reader fluff #oikawa x reader fluff #hq!! fluff #the word fluff doesnt look real anymore

[13uswntimagines]

13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think 

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird. 

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you. 

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice. 

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them. 

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew. 

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves. 

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask. 

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you. 

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight. 

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland. 

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. 

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other. 

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction. 

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again. 

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face. 

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,” 

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows. 

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head. 

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations. 

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been. 

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime. 

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team. 

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,” 

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,” 

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,” 

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin. 

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey. 

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes. 

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces. 

You didn’t need to see it. 

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,” 

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills. 

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true. 

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you. 

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. 

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help. 

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group. 

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you. 

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill. 

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path. 

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,” 

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,” 

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much. 

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby. 

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged. 

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal. 

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out. 

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands. 

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head. 

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner. 

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork. 

“Not bad,” 

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT. 

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again. 

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you. 

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,” 

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,” 

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,” 

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that. 

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,” 

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot. 

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back. 

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up. 

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal. 

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel. 

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup. 

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish. 

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net. 

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options. 

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much. 

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio? 

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot. 

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,” 

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out). 

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics. 

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do. 

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick. 

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look. 

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play. 

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick. 

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot. 

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips. 

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second. 

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes. 

At least someone else saw it too. 

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,” 

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team. 

You would take any help you could get. 

 *****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you. 

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower. 

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her. 

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender.  “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did. 

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley. 

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,” 

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together. 

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone. 

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,” 

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,” 

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,” 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before. 

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,” 

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table. 

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks. 

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,” 

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you. 

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop. 

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,” 

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,” 

“She’s my friend,” You muttered. 

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,” 

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,” 

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted. 

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,” 

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again. 

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted. 

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer. 

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York. 

 “At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”  

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed. 

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her. 

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too. 

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal. 

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,” 

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,” 

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,” 

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter. 

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,” 

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. 

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her. 

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down. 

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,” 

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat. 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair. 

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,” 

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid. 

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it. 

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth. 

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it. 

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness. 

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping. 

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,” 

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite. 

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list. 

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you. 

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,” 

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes. 

You couldn’t meet her eyes. 

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced. 

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much. 

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder. 

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you. 

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you. 

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,” 

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,” 

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself. 

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,” 

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,” 

Alex nodded. 

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia. 

But she could see that you were not fine. 

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it. 

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,” 

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand. 

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot. 

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,” 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,” 

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes. 

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to. 

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old. 

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics. 

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening. 

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,” 

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot. 

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions. 

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest. 

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability. 

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,” 

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,” 

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle. 

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work. 

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help. 

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed. 

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,” 

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer. 

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio. 

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,” 

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that. 

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses. 

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,” 

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time. 

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,” 

You hummed, turning away. 

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal. 

But she wished it didn’t sting as much. 

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast. 

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying. 

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough. 

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York. 

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip. 

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk. 

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,” 

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,” 

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,” 

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense. 

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove. 

You had everything to prove. 

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,” 

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,” 

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team. 

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset. 

You had proven them wrong. 

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone. 

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor. 

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio. 

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team. 

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently. 

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?” 

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,” 

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,” 

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second. 

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?” 

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question. 

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started. 

It was the nice thing about camp. 

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you. 

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing. 

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you. 

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was. 

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in? 

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call. 

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand.  “come on,” 

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”  

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen. 

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,” 

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,” 

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought. 

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend. 

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness. 

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter. 

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal. 

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back. 

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there. 

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue. 

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration. 

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York. 

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable. 

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.  

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor. 

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship. 

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled. 

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor. 

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder. 

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease. 

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,” 

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,” 

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting. 

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,” 

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise. 

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,” 

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,” 

You didn’t want to be too… forward. 

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same. 

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,” 

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested. 

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably. 

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche. 

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it. 

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,” 

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,”  She said, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,” 

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates. 

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot. 

Taylor was your friend. 

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,” 

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her. 

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,” 

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching. 

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks. 

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind. 

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass. 

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar. 

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling. 

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away. 

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship. 

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor. 

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,” 

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second. 

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone. 

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles. 

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes. 

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge. 

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said. 

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips. 

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it. 

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously. 

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

 “I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip. 

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,” 

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass. 

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded. 

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18. 

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,” 

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed. 

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects. 

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship. 

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,” 

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,” 

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message. 

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again. 

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head. 

But this was different. 

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted. 

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to. 

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly, 

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,” 

Taylor bit her lip. 

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was. 

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,” 

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,” 

“Thanks,” 

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading. 

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on. 

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it. 

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans. 

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway. 

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist. 

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest. 

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door. 

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate. 

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls. 

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her. 

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door. 

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat. 

“Is Y/n here?” 

Her voice came out shaky, horse. 

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope. 

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively. 

“Oh,” 

Taylor’s whole being deflated. 

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?” 

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends. 

Why had you lied? 

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it. 

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,” 

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out. 

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,” 

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,” 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. 

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin? 

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting. 

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you. 

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,” 

“Thanks,” 

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand. 

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,” 

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise. 

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin. 

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had. 

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange. 

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you. 

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show. 

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust. 

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater. 

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt. 

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do. 

“Y/n,” 

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater. 

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio. 

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked. 

“Y/n, wait!” 

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear. 

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo. 

“Y/n,” 

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned. 

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well. 

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you. 

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?” 

“I need to talk to you,” 

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,” 

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway. 

At least the 51st station was heated. 

“Y/n wait,” 

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you. 

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her. 

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young. 

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway. 

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence. 

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain. 

It was like your brain had short-circuited. 

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her. 

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,” 

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes. 

Taylor kissed you. 

She kissed you in the rain. 

Taylor liked you. 

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything. 

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

 Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss. 

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces. 

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck. 

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs. 

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90. 

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again. 

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows. 

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through. 

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,” 

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,” 

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket. 

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold. 

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor. 

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,” 

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it. 

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,” 

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,” 

You raised an eyebrow at her. 

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car. 

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam. 

You shut down that thought. 

It didn’t matter. 

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper. 

You didn’t feel cold. 

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,” 

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,” 

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll. 

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek. 

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips. 

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her. 

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head. 

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you 

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again. 

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt. 

Maybe Emily was right. 

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet. 

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender. 

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else. 

But she couldn’t want you. 

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice. 

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees. 

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you. 

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint. 

But maybe she did want you. 

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking. 

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room. 

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place. 

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,” 

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?” 

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,” 

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,” 

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,” 

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie. 

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,” 

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you. 

Except… 

your eyes closed. 

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain. 

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say. 

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister. 

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it. 

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?” 

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little. 

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you. 

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,” 

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget. 

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong. 

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality. 

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about. 

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing. 

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.  

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,” 

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly. 

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior. 

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed. 

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave. 

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air, 

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home. 

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east. 

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants. 

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning. 

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood. 

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces. 

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win. 

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you. 

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged. 

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way. 

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots. 

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,” 

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them. 

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it. 

No one else had to know that. 

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight. 

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam. 

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you. 

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off. 

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats. 

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,” 

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower. 

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,” 

You met her eyes, swallowing hard. 

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her. 

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy. 

It didn’t have to be complicated. 

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,” 

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair. 

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,” 

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett. 

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door. 

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,” 

Before slamming the locker room door shut. 

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you. 

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages. 

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to. 

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code. 

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone. 

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway. 

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her. 

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet. 

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there. 

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized. 

“Hey hotshot,” 

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view. 

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants. 

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it. 

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own. 

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features. 

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes. 

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,” 

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes. 

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own. 

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you. 

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game. 

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly. 

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,” 

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to. 

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours. 

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug. 

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you. 

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,” 

It was true. 

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones. 

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain. 

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,” 

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble. 

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?” 

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,” 

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can. 

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand. 

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks. 

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless. 

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back. 

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway. 

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh. 

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car. 

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity. 

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment. 

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well. 

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door. 

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you. 

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable. 

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain. 

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point. 

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.  

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,” 

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it).  “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster. 

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern. 

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her. 

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you. 

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,” 

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker. 

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,” 

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water. 

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool. 

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings. 

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm. 

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words. 

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom. 

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor. 

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool. 

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish. 

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes. 

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,” 

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there. 

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear. 

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone. 

Not even Mal. 

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water. 

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,” 

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,” 

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?” 

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss. 

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her. 

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor. 

It was sweet and spicy and addictive. 

And it made you want her. 

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations. 

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin. 

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning. 

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer. 

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you. 

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,” 

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,” 

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm. 

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off. 

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer. 

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off. 

Except it’s where your mind always went. 

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers. 

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable. 

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin. 

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted. 

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface. 

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold. 

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,” 

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,” 

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool. 

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,” 

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom. 

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets. 

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,” 

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,” 

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left). 

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen. 

There had to be something fucking wrong with you. 

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach. 

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet. 

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change. 

You took another deep breath. 

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse. 

You could be normal. 

You could save your friendship. 

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom. 

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,” 

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,” 

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,” 

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,” 

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water. 

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip. 

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle. 

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,” 

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,” 

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side. 

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,” 

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,” 

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you 

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers. 

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder. 

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs. 

Safe territory. 

Territory that put you in control of the pace. 

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front. 

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass. 

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time. 

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point. 

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach. 

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff. 

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue. 

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,” 

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple 

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her. 

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line. 

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward. 

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub. 

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down. 

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,” 

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach. 

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,” 

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,” 

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,” 

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek. 

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her. 

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done. 

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask. 

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,” 

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,” 

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?” 

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,” 

It was the truth. 

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way. 

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead. 

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all. 

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite. 

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams. 

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours. 

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you. 

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for. 

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back. 

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup. 

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup. 

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too. 

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-. 

You let out a long breath from your nose. 

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that. 

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that. 

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin. 

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,” 

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”��

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces. 

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her. 

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave. 

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return. 

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight. 

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you. 

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?” 

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her. 

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,” 

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign. 

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it. 

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway. 

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you. 

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it. 

“And you thought I’d want to talk,” 

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face. 

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team. 

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that. 

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor. 

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?” 

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way. 

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,” 

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her. 

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before. 

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with. 

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head. 

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine. 

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed. 

She was still your friend. 

You spat the word in your mind. 

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor. 

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you. 

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer. 

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,” 

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did. 

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?” 

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,” 

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed. 

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,” 

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected. 

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.” 

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop. 

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,” 

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off. 

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on. 

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence. 

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish. 

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,” 

“But the middle?” She asked. 

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck. 

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel. 

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk. 

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut. 

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started. 

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood. 

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running. 

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again. 

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,” 

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind. 

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence. 

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go. 

You swallowed hard and matched her nod. 

You could do slow steps. 

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street. 

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you. 

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?” 

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,” 

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited. 

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway. 

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you. 

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup. 

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work. 

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver. 

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery. 

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no. 

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes.  “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?” 

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,” 

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?” 

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears. 

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you. 

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,” 

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend. 

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you. 

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that. 

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm. 

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,” 

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow. 

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened. 

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?” 

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment. 

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,” 

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed. 

How would things change? What would she expect? 

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest. 

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her. 

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady. 

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,” 

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head. 

It didn’t have to be complicated. 

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

[lovebugism]

hi bug!! for blurbcember, how about ❝ don’t tell anyone, but, i spiked the eggnog. ❞ where shy!reader is by herself at a work holiday party, maybe she’s new or just really shy and doesn’t talk to many people, and steve/eddie goes up to her and jokes about spiking the eggnog to break the ice and flirt with her bc he has a crush on her and wants to make her laugh 🥹 totally not based on what i wish would happen to me at my work’s holiday party lmao

ah this is so cute! :D i decided to do this one for steve so i hope you like it!! — steve harrington spends the company holiday party flirting with shy!you (friends to lovers, shy!reader, fluff, 1.9k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The quiet mouse and the personality hire walk into an office holiday party.

It’s like the start of a really bad joke.

You try to be as enthusiastic as you can about the whole thing, but spending the last half of your day socializing with coworkers who've never looked your way before now isn’t exactly thrill-inducing. Neither is having to hear “Oh, I didn’t know you actually spoke” a thousand times over.

You just don’t want the lecture about being a team player just because you have a harder time talking than most people do. Everyone knows you’d rather be at your desk, anyway. That’s what you do best — keep your head down and get your work done.

But Steve Harrington? He’s totally in his element.

He flits around the common area with a drink and a smile, making people laugh without even trying. It’s hardly fair.

You don’t know how he does it — or why he chooses to waste his charm on you. You’re hardly deserving of his dumb jokes or his pretty smile, but he’s stuck to you like glue, anyway.

He leaves your side only once. To get you another cup of eggnog because you were too scared to cut through the crowd for seconds. “Here you go,” the pretty boy croons as he hands you the plastic cup with a strong, golden hand.

You mutter a small “thanks” under your breath when you take it from him. At least, Steve thinks you do. You’re so quiet it’s hard to make the words out sometimes.

He pushes his sweater sleeves up to his elbows — a deep evergreen with a cream stripe around the chest, lined with several little Christmas trees — and leans against the wall beside you.

He towers over you in every way imaginable. It makes it hurt not to cower when he looks your way. Most of all, when he beams at you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks suddenly, nose scrunched and honey eyes sparkling.

Your brows pinch momentarily in confusion before going lax again. “Sure?”

He leans closer to you, his warm scent engulfing you instantly — like morning coffee and woodsy cologne. It’s suffocating, in the nicest of ways, to be this close to him. 

“Don’t tell anyone, but I did actually spike the eggnog,” Steve whispers beneath the cheesy holiday music and distant chatter, quiet enough for only you to hear. 

You laugh before you mean to. 

He laughs because you are.

“I actually wouldn’t mind that,” you joke with a shy shrug.

“It’d make this whole thing a lot more tolerable, right?” he scoffs and brings his cup to his mouth. The heavy cream of the eggnog clings to his cupid’s bow before he licks it clean again.

You get quiet for a second, momentarily lost in how pretty he is. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“I think you’re the only person I know that’d rather be working than be here.”

“Well, I’m not really a—” Your mouth opens and closes like a fish until you find the words to say. That happens a lot. It’s why you find it easier not to speak sometimes. “—A social butterfly or whatever, you know?”

“I thought you were gonna say people-person.”

“That, too.”

Steve thinks for a moment, flits his eyes to the ceiling, and juts out his pretty pink lips. He crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “Well, I don’t think that’s totally true.”

Your brows furrow. Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as you thought. “No?”

“No,” he says confidently and with a shake of his neatly styled hair. He swipes his fingers through the intentionally messy strands. Then he shrugs. “Well, I mean, maybe. But I would say you are a Steve-person, you know?”

Your face screws up. His attempts to flirt with you don’t land.

He quickly tries to explain himself. “I just mean that— you know— that you don’t let everyone know you the way you let me know you.”

He gets all shy about it, but you think he might be right. 

Steve Harrington is more than just magnetic. He’s the kind of person that draws you in and opens you like a flower. An ounce of his attention feels like being basked in sunlight. He’s as handsome as life, too. Something holy, maybe. 

It’s his divinity that draws something out of you, you think.

“Well, that’s ‘cause you’re different from everyone else,” you shrug instead of elaborating on the dramatic religious metaphor in your head. Your gaze falls to the untouched cup between your palms. It’s easier to look at but much less interesting than the melting honey in Steve’s eyes.

He grins all sweet even though you’re not looking at him to see it.

“You mean prettier?” he jokes.

“Yeah,” you scoff and smile before you realize it. “No one’s competing with those dimples, Harrington.”

He beams. It basks you in golden sunlight. 

Something about the way he looks at you is comforting. Nostalgic. It makes you feel safe. Makes you feel brave enough to raise a trembling hand to his scruffy jaw and poke gently at the dimple in his left cheek.

“You just make it easier to talk. I guess.”

“Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I love hearing you talk.”

You squint playfully up at him. “Is that because you’re usually the one talking all the time?”

He nods. “That’s exactly why.”

You laugh, and it sounds like stars falling over his skin. 

“It just feels easy to me, you know? Being around you and everything,” Steve shrugs to pretend like you don’t stir something sort of poetry in his chest. “I just think you’re cool. Exactly the way you are. And, you know, when you apologize for being too quiet or too complicated or whatever— it makes me wanna kick the world’s ass for making you feel that way. ‘Cause you’re, like, one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

For a second or more, you’re not totally sure what to say. And not in the way you usually are. This is different. This feels like there’s sunshine in your throat, and you can’t speak a word through it. This feels like being so choked up you could cry.

No one’s ever been this nice to you, you think. No one’s ever been so kind to you about the thing you hate most about yourself.

You swallow through the sun rays and muster a wavering smile.

“See what I mean?” You try to laugh, but the words get caught in your throat. You cough once to clear it. “I have to talk to you because no one else will say such nice things to me.”

“And that’s just a shame. ‘Cause saying nice things to you is basically my favorite hobby.”

You laugh again, even though he’s not really joking.

“Like, if I could get paid to do it, I’d be out of this shithole in a second.”

You smile up at him, so wide it makes your eyes squint and your nose scrunch. No one else could stir such a loud emotion from the quiet you are. No one else but Steve.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember