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wonwoosthetic · 10 months

Note

could you do joel and younger gf/wife (like in her early/mid twenties) and some young guy hits on her while they’re together in like one of sarah’s soccer games or soemthing and joel gets all jealous and insecure

Only You, Only Me

a/n – <3 thank you for the request, I hope you and everyone else enjoys this ˙ᵕ˙ also: having to call football soccer in this fic hurt my European heart haha😭 pre-outbreak!joel was a softy, you cannot convince me otherwise

pairing – pre-outbreak!joel miller x female!reader

warnings – slight jealousy and insecurities, but besides that A LOT of fluff ˙ᵕ˙, a quick mention of sex

word count – 7.1k

series masterlist

2000

You had sprinted half the way from the bus stop to the soccer field, running the other half, only coming to a stop when you finally reached the entrance. The dress you had chosen to wear had started turning into a slight regret as you had to hold it down from flashing everyone behind you, but the weather didn't let you wear anything below knee height.

With a few more steps forward, greeting the people by the footstalls and other parents with smiles, you finally found yourself right in front of the field, your eyes immediately raking over the space, trying to find the set of bouncy chocolate curls you knew all too well. Sarah was quick to find, making the smile on your face widen instantly as you watched her sprint towards the ball rolling over the grass. You could watch her in her element every free minute of your life. Even though she wasn't right next to you, you could hear her giggles as they had engraved themselves into your brain.

For a second, you directed your attention toward the far back on the right, where your partner's usual seat was, only to find him another second later. A handsome face like his just stands out from the crowd. You grinned to yourself once you noticed he hadn't caught onto your arrival yet, getting to see his perfectly shaped side profile as he watched his daughter and her team hopefully win on another sunny day.

With a grin decorating your face, you almost skipped over to your boyfriend who was sitting on one of the benches at the lowest height, while the other parents had occupied the higher seats on the platform. Passing one grandstand and walking along the length of the entire field before you'd reach the one Joel was sitting on. Too focused on what was going on right in front of his eyes, he didn't even notice your figure coming closer and closer. It was only when you had almost sat down, and your perfume reached his nose that he turned his head to the side.

"Well, look who's finally here," he greeted you with a smile, opening his left arm to welcome you into the space right next to him.

"Finally? You know damn well I rushed out of my class to be here on time." With a roll of your eyes and a slight chuckle, you joined him on the bench, sliding into his arm swiftly. Sadly, as the new college year had just started, your work as a TA was more asked than ever. Multiple students had enrolled in your tutoring sessions - many more than you expected, explaining why you had to create an extra class for this Saturday, not finding any other available spots during the week. That's why you had been slightly late to the usual Saturday game that you would usually always attend hand-in-hand with Joel.

With a quick peck on the lips after a mumble of, "I know, I know," by your partner, the welcome wagon was finished, and your focus was back on the field. Joel's hand had quickly found its comfort spot on your thigh.

"What's the score?" You asked him, setting down the bag you had carried on your left shoulder.

A proud grin made his lips curl up. "1 to 0. Sarah assisted the first goal."

With a nod, you copied his facial expression. "Well done," you spoke quietly, eyes trained on the girl ahead of you.

"How were the kids?" To anybody else, his question would let one believe that you worked in a kindergarten or primary school, not at a college where the students were barely a few years younger than you. But you knew what he meant. It still made you chuckle.

Your hands found his, running your softer fingers over his dry knuckles. You always told him to start using hand cream since his work forced him to use his hands so much, and yet he never did.

"Surprisingly motivated, not gonna lie. For a Saturday. I expected like no motivation, no raised hands, no answers or questions, or anything really. But they were really up on everything and seemed genuinely interested," you explained to him.

Joel couldn't help but chuckle, taking your hand into his much bigger one, and turning his head slightly towards you. "Well, if I had a hot TA that turned up in summer dresses to class, I'd also be motivated to go on a Saturday." His comment caught your attention as you grinned shyly at him, pressing your lips together.

"Wow," you nodded along. "Thanks for telling me they only want to be there because of my looks and not because I'm a good TA, and they can actually understand the material better thanks to me." Adding a joking scoff at the end, getting a chuckle from him in return.

His hand came up to brush over your hair, "I would never doubt your ability as a TA. I know you're the smartest person I've ever come across.", He pulled you in so he could place a kiss on your temple, whispering into your ear, "But I just wanted to make sure you know how beautiful you look."

A chuckle escaped your lips as you straightened the hem of your dress. "I think you showed me that today already in the bathroom, huh?" Grinning teasingly at him as you reminded him of his inability of holding himself back when it came to certain outfits you'd wear - one of them being dresses, specifically summer dresses. The inability, that had made you almost late for class today as he just had to take you in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, bent over the sink, interrupting you as you tried to get ready and look presentable for the day. You weren't complaining though. You'd never complain.

A smug smile made its way onto his lips as his fingers dug back into the flesh of your thighs, the grip almost surprising you.

"And I'd gladly show you again later, darlin'." His remark earned him a slap on the upper arm as you told him to focus back on his daughter's competition, the smiles not leaving either one of your faces.

Thanks to all the running, you noticed your throat had started to run dry, and you were in a very sudden but desperate urge to find something to drink. Glancing around the seat, you tried to find out if Joel had gotten himself something, only to your dismay to find absolutely nothing.

You got his attention with a quick slap to his upper leg, "I'm gonna go get something to drink, do you want anything?"

Without hesitation, your partner reached with his right hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "Should I go?"

But you declined his offer, "No, no, it's fine, I'll be quick. Do you want something?"

He handed you over his wallet as he shook his head. "No, I'm good, thank you." Squeezing your thigh one last time before letting you stand up. Once your frame left the seating area, he noticed your bag laying on the bench and pulled it in closer, setting it down on his right side to keep an eye on it.

While you were making your way a little further back to where you had come from, the echoes of shouting and clapping became quieter and quieter with each step, making you turn around every now and then to make sure you wouldn't miss anything important.

You waltzed up to the woman in the snack truck and ordered two water bottles, knowing Joel would eventually want something to drink as well and Sarah still had hers in her backpack. As you waited for her to get them, the sound of a whistle ringing over the field reached your ear, indicating that the first half of the match was finished and they'd have a break now. Perfect timing.

You paid, thanked her one more time, and left to go back to your seat, getting a glimpse of the group of girls by the side of the field getting a speech of motivation before breaching out to find each of their parents to spend the break with. As you had your head down, remembering the slightly uneven side of the field where you were walking, you didn't catch the figure taking a few steps back. Not until you walked right into them. You immediately started to apologize and looked up, only to find Sarah's coach looking down at you, his hand on your upper arms as if he was afraid you'd trip.

"Oh, I- sorry, sorry I didn't look where I was going," you stumbled over your words, slightly embarrassed by what had happened.

The blonde man shook his head, a million-dollar smile wide on his face. "No, don't worry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have walked backwards, I don't know what I was thinking." His hands were still very evidently on your skin.

You chuckled, "What? Why were you walking backwards?"

He just shrugged, "I don't even know anymore." Laughing along with his comment. "Ben, by the way. Ben Miller." He dropped his hands, only to reach out with his right one for you to accept. Of course, you knew who he was. Sarah had been going to the training sessions of this team for a good year now, and the day she came home, beaming from ear to ear, talking all about how much fun her coach was, you knew they had found the perfect team for the little girl. You remembered her telling you all about the coincidence of meeting someone else with the same last name as her. Neither Joel nor you had the heart to tell her how common their last name had been in the US.

"Oh, yeah, I know," you let your palms touch, shaking his hand as you introduced yourself, holding on to the water bottles with your left arm, already feeling the condensation wetting the material of your dress.

"So," Ben cleared his throat. "You're Sarah's sister, right?"

His question almost made you choke on air. You knew you weren't the same age as most of the parents here, and the age gap between you and Joel had been a big subject to literally everyone but the two of you, but you had never gotten mistaken for that.

"Sister?! No, no, no," you quickly stopped him, trying to play off the continuous embarrassment with more laughter.

While you continued your conversation with the coach, hoping to leave a good impression as the woman taking care of Sarah and loving her father, the duo was in their own little world.

The youngest Miller skipped over to where Joel was now standing up, her backpack tucked underneath his seat as he held out her water bottle.

"Daddy, daddy, did you see? Did you see me?" The excitement was radiating off her, making the father smile brightly as his daughter ran into his arms, hugging him tightly.

"Yes, baby girl, I saw you," he petted the top of her hair, noticing the few strands that had fallen out of her ponytail. "You wanna redo your hair?"

Sarah jumped back, "No!" Touching her head.

"No?" Joel repeated.

"My hair is okay," she assured him with a hand sign she cutely formed, making him chuckle and nod as he sat back down, finally handing her over the bottle so she could down the cold water.

"Did you see Y/N arrive?" He asked her, wanting to make sure she was aware of the fact that you didn't dare to miss out on her match.

Sarah smiled brightly and started nodding her head up and down quickly. "And she's talking to coach Ben."

"No, she went to go get some water. It's hot, you know? You need to stay hydrated," he made sure to add a little anecdote as he straightened out the small jersey she was wearing.

But the little girl shook her head as she pointed straight forward to the right. "No, she's talking to Coach Ben right now." Joel's ears perked up. His head snapped towards the direction, his eyes immediately finding your figure, only half covered by the frame of the man in front of you. He couldn't read lips, so God knows what the two of you were talking about, but he didn't need to know. Your bright smile and clear giggles didn't need a translation.

Joel wasn't a stranger to jealousy. I mean, how could he. You were beautiful, inside and out, incredibly smart - he knew he was the luckiest man alive to be able to call you his. He never missed the glances you'd get from each man passing you on the street or the ogling eyes from one of Tommy's friends. Even back when the two of you met, he had wondered what a young and pretty girl was doing sitting there with him, only talking to him, glancing directly into his eyes when you could have had the attention of at least four other men at the table. He had considered himself the luckiest guy in the world back then and still did. But he also knew what you were worth. And he was very well aware that, partially, he couldn't give you that. Even though, the reassuring sound of your voice, sweet like honey words falling from your lips were still marked on him, letting him know just how much you adored him, every part of his body, face, and personality, he still couldn't get, who in his past life he must've saved to deserve an angel like you now by his side.

Joel tried to keep his cool as best as he could. Tried to look past your crossed legs as you looked up at the other man, slightly hunching over, covering your mouth as you laughed at something he said. He couldn't have been that funny...

Ben was a good-looking man. Young, fit, and definitely a feast for the eyes. Every man would get jealous watching him talk to their other half. Right?... What could be oh-so-interesting coming from some blonde-frat-boy-looking guy that you'd grin at him like that?

He reminded himself once again... You were his. But then... Ben was exactly that type of guy strangers would expect you to be with. Not some older dude like him. Tommy loved reminding him of that. He could recall every double take people had to do when glancing at the two of you. Every eye up-down he got from women - the judgement just screaming from the look on their faces. It never seemed to bother you though. If anything, it would only make you hold on tighter to his arm or give his cheek an extra kiss. Almost as if you were jealous at every look he'd get from another woman that was a second too long for your liking. He could almost laugh at that thought. You had absolutely no reason to be jealous. There would be nobody ever to compare to you. Joel, on the other hand, had every reason to envy other guys staring at you. Because while you were all of that, he was just Joel.

The voice of his daughter got him back into the present.

"Dad!" She pushed her water bottle into his chest, catching him off guard. "Why don't you say hi to Coach Ben?"

"I already said hi to him when I came here, babygirl," he explained monotone, tucking the bottle back into the backpack before storing it under the bench again. Sarah didn't need to know the bad feeling he had gotten from the blonde man right from the start. Something was just... not right. The moment Tommy mentioned liking him and thinking about inviting him for drinks after he had picked up his niece from training one day, Joel knew he wasn't to trust. If Tommy liked someone, he immediately knew they'd be bad news. God, if Tommy wasn't his brother, he wouldn't even trust him.

"Hi, Y/N!" The youngest Miller suddenly jolted up and ran over to where you were now coming closer to the both of them.

You were quick to kneel down, opening your arms wide to welcome the little girl as she wrapped her small arms around your neck, pulling you in tightly, so your cheeks were squished together - something she had been doing to you for quite a while now.

You greeted her just as ecstatically, letting go so the two of you could continue your journey back to her father together while you kept asking her about the match.

"You're not tired yet, sweetie?" You wondered, settling back down next to Joel.

Sarah shook her head with a giggle, "No, that's why we practice, Y/N." She reminded you, making you chuckle.

"Right, right." You smiled before wanting to hand Joel one of the water bottles, but he pushed it back.

"I don't need it."

You rolled your eyes, "Just take it, I know you'll want it later." With a huff he accepted. You decided to ignore the slight sudden change in demeanour, brushing it off as your mind playing tricks on you.

Before the three of you could get into a full conversation again, the sound of the whistle hit your ear, letting you know the break was over. Sarah jumped up, kissing both you and her father on the cheek before running back onto the field, into the group of girls that were surrounding the coach again.

Joel knew better than to start a fight right now. He didn't want to know about what had gotten you so giddily while talking to Ben only a few feet away from him. But he couldn't fully push down the anger that had started to rumble up his body, making him turn quiet.

If only you didn't have to bring it up.

"You know," you started after having taken a sip from your water bottle. "Ben kinda reminds me of Tommy. Are you sure you guys aren't related?" Even though he knew it was supposed to be a joke, the scoff just tumbled from his lips as he sighed,

"God, fuck, I hope not."

You chuckled, not realising how much truth was in his comment. "Yeah, you already got your hands full with one troubled Miller." Placing a hand on his back, only then noticing the slight tension his body held. "He said Sarah's been doing really well, and she might even be able to go up a league next year. That would be cool, huh?" You glanced over at him, but Joel kept his eye on the field, watching his daughter race from one end to the other, the ball right by her feet.

"Mm," he grunted. "What else did he say that got you to giggle like a schoolgirl?"

You scoffed with a chuckle, "What? I didn't giggle like a schoolgirl." Noticing he wasn't grinning like you expected him to, meaning he wasn't teasing you. You scrunched your eyebrows. "What's gotten you so grumpy, old man?"

Every other day, this would've gotten you a snort from him return before he'd start tickling the soul out of you or would attack your neck in kisses, continuously teasing you for calling him that, knowing that the age gap between the two of you was something you'd like to play with every now and then, giving you a slight kick. Why, was still a mystery to Joel because he found himself anything but attractive with each passing year. Whatever you saw in him was now even more confusing to him than ever before.

His eyes fell down to where your hand had found its way to his thigh, covering it with his warm palm, petting it once before he took it, only to drop it back into your lap, mumbling a quick,

"Nothin', don't worry 'bout it." Before his attention was back on the game ahead of you.

Alright... you thought, weird, but... alright. You realised, there was definitely something going on in that head of his, but also knew that the Saturday match of his daughter was not the place to discuss it. You'd wait until you were back home.

The two of you spent the rest of the game in silence, proudly shouting and clapping for Sarah when she missed the goal by just an inch, hyping her up, hoping to motivate her to keep going. The car ride was filled with the youngest Miller's rambling about the match and the team they played against as well as the homework she'd need help with once they got home.

Before you left the field, Joel definitely didn't miss the smug nod Ben sent you before he disappeared as well, making him roll his eyes as you just waved, telling Sarah to do the same as he pushed you forward with a gentle hand on your lower back, making sure that it was low enough to send a quick non-verbal message to the young Coach.

At home, Joel decided to get started with the dishes while you helped Sarah with her Math homework, knowing you'd be much more of a help, thanks to your education and line of work than he'd ever be. Time passed thankfully quite quickly, and after making sure the little one got a good dinner, you sent her up to shower off the dirt and sweat from the hot day.

All while the older Miller was in the kitchen, scrubbing every single dish in fury, knowing how ridiculous others would find him if they could take a look inside his brain. He was so done with it.

The disgustingly smug face of that coach kept showing up in front of his eyes, reminding him of just how pathetic he felt. He wasn't even mad at you. Or was he? God, not even he himself knew, what was making him react like this. Just the mere thought of any other man by your side made his blood boil. It had happened in the past. His primal instincts would just take over - he wasn't necessarily proud of it, but it was just the person he was.

Joel just couldn't get it out of his head. It wasn't the first time you had talked to a younger good-looking man, and it most definitely wouldn't be the last. He wasn't 12 anymore, he knew people, no matter the gender, would want to get along with each other. You even had to deal with people around your age every single day at work. Suddenly, that thought got him even more unweary. He tried to shake it off quickly.

Each day you'd come home to him, exhausted and complaining about some of your students. Never about the professor you worked for. It was always the students, specifically male students. Guys your age. The way you'd whine about their lack of motivation and focus would make you fall onto the couch, right into Joel's comforting embrace as he tried to calm you down, talking down on those exact guys, reminding you of the fact that college stuff was the last thing on a guys' mind during that age. It always made you groan. Each time. It would make him proud, now to think of it. Proud that rather than expressing your admiration for someone your age, you'd complain about their childishness, reminding him how grateful you were to have found him - a man, not a guy. But you talking to Ben seemed like anything but burdensome to you. It looked too natural for Joel's liking. But he knew to trust you, having had multiple conversations with you about the future. But even then...

He caught himself drifting off, snapping back into the presence quickly. Joel was already starting to dart way too low, reaching a level of dark thoughts he'd much rather not have. The two of you were a melodic couple. A couple that spoke to each other freely, he reminded himself. You always assured each other that nothing should be left unsaid and getting everything out is better than keeping everything in, no matter how embarrassing or pathetic it might be because there are no such things in a relationship. He remembered a conversation you had once dropped during a cuddle session on the couch. For some reason, it stuck with him:

"You know, Barbs broke up with her boyfriend." You suddenly threw in the room.

Joel raised an eyebrow, quickly having to remind himself that Barbs was one of your girlfriends that you had met up with for a Brunch date with the rest of your friend group.

"Why?" You knew he could probably care less about it, but he still wondered. If only you knew how much he actually just enjoyed listening to you talk.

You sat up from your half-lying position where your head had rested on his shoulder. Waiting until he had turned his head from the TV, he found your serious glance on him.

"Because she hasn't come even once during sex in the four months they've been together."

Joel took a deep breath, his eyebrows scrunched together. "Shit... poor guy."

"Poor guy?!" You exclaimed, hitting his chest, and making him flinch slightly. "Poor her! She's always had to finish herself off in the bathroom."

"Honey," he sighed, "I don't think you should tell me all that much about your friends." Joel would never complain about you sharing your life with him, but some information about your girlfriends should possibly stay between girls.

"No, you should know about this," you complained back, making him look at you with raised eyebrows.

"Oh? You tryna tell me something here, darlin'?"

His question made you giggle as you shoved him slightly, giving him the opportunity to hold onto your arm to pull you back into him.

"Please," you rolled your eyes, "You'd know if I was faking it."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled into your hair as he placed multiple kisses all along your hairline. He laid your head onto his lap, your gaze up at him as he looked down at you, the palm of his running up down the side of your torso.

"But like... I asked her why she didn't just, you know, talk to him about it. They were so perfect for each other in every other way, and I'm pretty sure that could've gotten fixed too. I mean, there's hardly anything that can't get fixed, and I know I wasn't present for like every second of their relationship, but I don't know. Anyways-" Joel chuckled at your rambling. "I asked her, and all of my friends turned to me and looked at me like I... just told them, I don't know- the only reason I have five toes on my left foot was because I ate the sixth one when I was a kid."

"Darlin'," Joel laughed at your comment. Your way with words would never bore him.

"What?" You chuckled back at him. "I'm serious. They looked at me so weirdly." He let you continue, his hand now comfortable on your stomach as your fingers found his to play with. "But they all understood her. They said that instead of talking to their partners about that, they'd much rather just end it."

The oldest Miller shrugged, "Yeah, but I mean if it's uncomfortable for them."

"But it shouldn't be," you argued. "Right?" You waited for him to lower his gaze. "I thought in a relationship you shouldn't feel awkward to talk about anything. I wouldn't want you to hold back on talking to me about something just because you think it's ridiculous or whatever."

"You'd want me to tell you that I haven't come in the time we've been together?" You nodded along to his question. "You don't think that would make you feel weird?" You shook your head.

"I mean," a quick thought shut you up for a second before continuing. "The thing is, I'd question why you wouldn't have talked to me about it earlier, but... I'd still want to solve that problem together, you know?" You waited for a nod coming from him, but he only tilted his head slightly. "I don't think there should be anything you'd keep from your partner. If you're in a relationship, you're already sharing so much with each other, like, you're literally giving over your body to trust another person with it, but then you don't want to talk about stuff like that? I don't know, seems weird to me."

His knuckles came up to brush over your cheek. "You get shy when I talk about what I want to do with you as soon as I get my hands on you too though."

You couldn't help but to grin. "Because you tease!" Getting a hold of his hand, you tried to push it away from you with a giggle. "That's different," you argued. "But if you have something that's bothering you or something and you think it's ridiculous or whatever, and that's the reason why you don't want to talk to me about it... I don't like that," you shrugged, making your point.

Joel nodded, a slight smirk still on his lips. "Alright, I promise, I'll let you know once you stop making me come, okay?"

You jumped up with a laugh, slapping him once again. "Can you be serious for once?! You idiot!" Giggling as he tried to dodge your hits only to pull you in closer again, not wanting to be apart from your body for even a second. You groaned jokingly, "Ugh, I hate you sometimes."

"I know," he looked at your lovingly, throwing you back onto the couch, hovering above you as he pinned down your arms, "I love you too." Leaning down to kiss you.

With a huff, he dropped the now wet washcloth onto the counter, ready to make his way upstairs, knowing you were most likely already getting ready for bed as well.

Even though your conversation back then was filled with laughter and banter, he understood the seriousness of it. You wanted this relationship to work, just as much as he did. And the only way to make that happen was through talking. As much as Joel hated it, hated using his words, never knowing what the right thing to say would be, he knew he had to jump over his ego this time. With grunts, he moved up the stairs, hearing the shower in the master bathroom being turned off right when he entered your shared bedroom. He pulled up his shirt, throwing it into the basket in the corner, a purchase you had made once you moved in.

You opened the bathroom door, letting the steam escape as you turned to the mirror, wiping it down before you got ready for your skincare routine. Joel knew, if he shied away from the conversation any longer, he'd never get to it. So, it was now or never.

Taking step after step until he reached the door frame to lean on, he could feel his heart almost up to his neck, swallowing hard. You saw his figure coming closer from the corner of your eye as you applied your serum, turning your head once he came to a stop.

"You okay?" You wondered once again, hoping to maybe get an answer in return this time around.

He didn't even dare to look into your eyes, finding the floor much more interesting. Joel took a deep breath. He crossed his arms and lifted his head to look straight ahead into the wall, past you.

"You ever think about dating someone younger?" He rushed over his words, hoping to get this over as quickly as possible. You stopped mid-movement at the sudden question being thrown into the room. With confusion written all over your face, you turned to the right, his body still resting against the doorframe.

"What?" Was all you could let out. You understood the question acoustically, yet hoped to have misheard it still.

With a sigh, he started again, "Do- ugh, you know what? Forget it." He blurred it out just as quickly, his back facing you right away as he moved back into the bedroom, walking towards the drawer to get boxers for the night.

"Joel," you were quick to rush after him, "What did you just ask me?"

"Nothing, forget about it," he shrugged it off, looking around the drawer. Before he could even put his hand inside it, you closed it, positioning yourself between the piece of furniture and him.

"Why did you just ask me that?" Your concerned voice tugged at his heart. You were too good for him.

You understood that Joel could possibly be insecure, just as much as anyone else was allowed to be, just like you were too sometimes. But you never expected such a question to come from him.

Joel placed both of his hands on top of your head to push it down slightly, placing a loving kiss on top of your hair.

"Nothin'. It doesn't matter, it's stupid." With a sigh, he walked over to the bed, sitting down on his side, his back once again turned towards you.

"Joel," you were definitely just going to let this slide, "You know exactly what I think of that 'it's stupid' shit."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his hands brushed over his face, a soft groan tumbling from his lips. "Yeah," he groaned, "I know, trust me. You have no idea how long I've been debating over asking you that shit."

That's when the switch in your head flicked. "Is that why you've been so quiet?" He only nodded.

With a sad sigh, you rounded the corner, coming to a halt in front of his hunched-over figure.

"What's got you thinking about something like that all of a sudden?" With another step forward, you were right in between his legs as he almost automatically let his hands drop to let you come closer, your fingers brushing through his hair.

"It's a stupid question-"

You immediately shushed him by placing your hand over his mouth. "There are no stupid questions. You know that."

A slight grin crept up on his face as you lowered your hand again. "You really are a teacher, huh?" You tilted your head with a smirk you tried to hold back, not wanting to let go of the seriousness of the conversation.

"Come on," you petted his cheek, "Tell me." His hands found their way to your hips, riding up underneath his shirt you had decided to put on for the evening, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

With another deep breath in, Joel glanced to the side, trying to think about the right words, but his head was too occupied to think about that right now. "That stupid Ben fucker, I swear to God..." he cursed as he mumbled, making you almost unable to hear him clearly. But you still caught it, thanks to the silence in the room.

"Ben? Ben Miller? Sarah's coach?" You pushed his face to make him look up at you. "What did he say to you?"

He shook his head, taking your hands off his cheeks to hold onto them, kissing your knuckles. "No, no he didn't say anything."

"Then wh-"

"I saw you two talking together. Well, Sarah saw you first, but then I looked over too," he started explaining, still avoiding your eyes while you kept your gaze on him. "And, I don't know, something in me just snapped, I guess... watching him talk to you... just... yeah..."

"You don't like him?" You carefully asked, unsure if he was finished with his statement.

Joel shook his head, "Not really."

You nodded along, "Good. That makes two of us." His head snapped up at your comments.

"What?" You just nodded again.

"He's pathetic, it's... like, I know we shouldn't judge people, but God..."

Joel's eyebrows scrunched in confusion, "Then why were you laughing so much with him?"

"Because I wanted him to like me."

"Why's that so important to you?"

"Because of Sarah!" You explained, "She really likes him, and I want to leave a good impression on him because I don't want him to maybe treat her differently or whatever just because I wasn't nice to him. I- what, did you think I was flirting with him?"

The oldest Miller stayed quiet. Sometimes no answer is also an answer. And this time it was answer enough for you.

"Joel!" You whined out.

"What?" He looked up at you as you took a step back. "Look at you. You tryna tell me he wouldn't be tryin' something on a beautiful woman like you. You deserve someone like him!"

"Someone like him?"

"Someone young. And good-looking. And Jesus, I don't even wanna know what else," he threw his right hand up in frustration.

"Joel..."

"Look," he stopped you. "I understand it, okay? I don't believe you'd do something like that," he assured you before pointing to his head, "But the guys up here don't get it."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, slightly concerned, "What?"

He shook his head with a groan, "I don't know..." Joel just couldn't find the right words. He would never accuse you of cheating or leaving him just like that, he got that. But... there was just something...

For a second, the two of you decided to stay silent. But you couldn't bear watching your boyfriend, your life partner, on the bed, sitting in frustration.

"Joel," you started again, taking that one step closer to be in between his legs again, making him look up. "Why would I want a dude in his early twenties that works at a gym just so he can use their stuff for free and brags about having a lonely huge ass apartment, and the only reason he's the coach of a girl's soccer team is because his dad forces him to, otherwise he'd stop paying his rent."

Joel glanced at you bedazzled. Gazing up at you as you returned to raking your fingers through his hair while his hands held onto your outer thighs.

"What?"

You nodded, your lips pressed into a tight line. "That's Ben Miller."

Another wave of silence washed over the two of you before you decided to go one step further.

"Why would I want someone like that when I have a trustful man that is mature, incredibly handsome, one of the funniest people I've ever met, who makes me feel like I might truly be the most beautiful woman he has ever seen." You lowered yourself, placing a knee on each side of him to take a seat in his lap, your fingers never leaving his dark curls. "Who is the most amazing father to a wonderful little girl, has a good job, a house, a well-planned future, who knows how to treat women with respect, who I know would never hurt me in any way," you had started to lock eye with him, "who loves me for me and who makes me the happiest I've ever been." Joel's fingers were digging into the flesh of your ass, making you lean forward just a slight bit more. "Why would I ever want to have someone else?" You let your right pointer finger slowly run over the side of his face. "I couldn't care less about Ben or any other guy like that. They're all the same," you rolled your eyes, making him chuckle. "I love you. And only you. And they can look at me all they want, I only care about one man." You finished your speech before leaning in to place a kiss on his lips that have already been screaming for you. The plan for it to only be a quick peck was quickly thrown out the window when Joel's grip on you tightened, pulling you in as close as he possibly could.

You separated with heavy breaths from both of you.

Joel let go of your ass, his right hand sliding up your back, just a bit. "So," he smirked, "You only wanted me for my house?" The sudden question made you giggle out loud, holding onto his shoulders as you stared into his dark brown eyes.

"Exactly," you nodded.

The oldest Miller let himself enjoy the moment just a bit more as he took in your appearance. No make-up, hair ready for bed, in one of his t-shirts with underwear covering you. Perfect. And all his.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't doubt you, I really didn't. Just...," A heavy sigh fell from his lips. "There are so many young men that you could-"

"Boys," you interrupted him.

"Boys?" He chuckled.

"If they're around my age, they don't deserve the title of a man yet. And I don't need that," you made clear, following him with a smile as well.

Joel dared to look down for a second. "I just..." glancing up, to find your eyes never leaving him, your kind eyes still brightly shining right at him. "I thought about what Tommy used to say about you and his friends fitting together way better than us two-"

"And Tommy better shut his damn mouth if he knows what's good for him," your comment got a chuckle from him in return.

"And your dad wasn't all too happy about us either."

You nodded. "And my dad also cheated on my mom. Twice. You really think I'm gonna take dating advice from him?" He knew your relationship with him was... wobbly.

"I know, I know," he mumbled, his hands now rubbing up and down your body as you snaked your arms around his neck, making sure you had him close to your body.

"I only want you, Joel," you whispered, your eyes passionately interlocked with his as you leaned in for another peck. Your action made him smile, tightening his arms around you too. "And your house," you giggled against his lips. Joel couldn't hold back the chuckle as he let himself fall back into the mattress, pulling you along with him.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask

#Joel miller #Joel miller x reader #hbo!joel miller #the last of us #hbo #tlou #Pedro pascal #x reader #x fem!reader #fluff #series #finding something to fight for

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sweetandgentlecreature · 8 months

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May I request a headcanon for single!dad Syverson? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Absolutely you can! Single dad!Sy is a weakness of mine, and I’d love to share my thoughts on it. Thanks for requesting! ❤️❤️

Warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff!

In my mind, Sy is a girl dad.

My first thoughts are that Sy didn't know he had a daughter until he'd come back from deployment. It was a one night stand that brought on more than he'd bargained for, and when the child's mother showed up on his porch one day, she dropped the bombshell right then and there. "Sy, meet Grace. She's your daughter."

He, as most first-time parents, learned on his feet. Diaper changes, bottle feedings, and sleepless nights; he took them all in stride. Sitting at the kitchen table in the wee hours of the morning, he propped her up to sit in a hand-me-down highchair to have a talk. "Alright, lil miss. Here's how this is gonna go. Yer gonna go back ta' sleep, and yer gonna let yer daddy get some rest. 4am is not the time ta' get up and play."

She'd watch him with wide, curious eyes, as a slow, dimpled smile spread across her chubby cheeks and she giggled. As if to say, "Oh, daddy. You don't run the show."

And she was right, of course. By 5 o'clock, they were sitting together in the living room, watching reruns of Sesame Street in the dark.

As she grew, new challenges arose.

Toddler meltdowns became a daily struggle in the Syverson house.

Wanting the pink sippy cup and not the purple one; insisting on dressing herself for daycare (rain boots go best with tutus of course); dropping to the floor, dead-weight, in the middle of the grocery store demanding Lucky Charms instead of Cheerios.

Some days, he just had to pick his battles.

"Here, baby. I bought an extra pink one, just for you." "You look beautiful, baby girl. You want the yellow bow to match your boots?" *sighs* "Alright, fine. Lucky Charms it is."

Princess birthday parties, Daddy-Makeovers, stickers and glitter filling his work boots.

Little reminders to keep him going throughout the day.

And then came the day that he'd dreaded the most: her first day of kindergarten.

Hand in hand, they walked together up the steps of the school. He stopped her at the door and dropped to his knees before her.

Smoothing a hand over her wild curls, he took a deep breath and looked into her tearful eyes.

"Come on now, darlin'. It's gonna be alright."

Her bottom lip quivered as she did her best not to cry.

"B-but what if no one likes me?"

He'd do his best not to laugh. To her, this was serious.

"Oh, darlin'...that's the best part. Yer gonna go in there and make so many friends, you won't know what'ta do with yerself."

He'd kiss her on the head, then hand her over to her teacher that was waiting at the door.

Watching her walk away felt like losing the biggest piece of his heart, but he knew this is what she needed.

He stayed strong as he watched her disappear down the hall.

When he got to the truck, way out of sight, he let the tears fall. Damn, he loves that little girl.

#sweet anons #henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill one shot #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #syverson fluff #captain syverson fluff #syverson fanfiction

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prettymeredith · 8 months

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Fantasy of the Day: Babysitters

"Denim overalls AND pigtails? I haven't dressed like this since I was in Kindergarten. But seriously, someone tell me what's going on."

I sat there feeling small as the three of them gathered round. Having not been babysat, let alone even seen, any of them in literal years I still felt young and inferior in the age gap alone.

Questioning how the hell I even wound up in this predicament in the first place, I had little time to think before I was being scolded at.

"No talking in timeout!" "Excuse me, are you making faces at us?" "You've always been a little of a brat haven't you?"

Debooted and outmatched, I never expected an orchestrated tickle attack from every which angle.

"Haha, HAHA!! StoOOoP!! .... Ta-haHAHAha!!"

As quick as it started the three stopped, peeling off my socks and threatening to gag me with one if I didn't 'behave' as they simply put it.

It was explained to me that I was somehow too immature and irresponsible to be home all by myself. Despite being independent and in my 20s, this was clearly a rouse in their little roleplay; a callback to when I was the little brat whom they were responsible for until my parents came back.

"You see? Always complaining! Told you that you were overdue for an attitude adjustment."

"Do I need to tell your mother what a bad girl you've been today? What'd you think she'd say?"

"Probably, sorry girls but heres some extra cash for the trouble. Little Miss Priss can work that out of her allowance this week, hahaha!"

They shared a laugh at my expense. Doubling down on both insults and tickling. The three would circle me, picking up where another had just let off. Using both my hairbrish and toothbrush in addition to sharpened fingertips. Nothing to do but giggle and play along in thier little game.

"Hahahaha..! Y-yes I fi-hehe-inished my homework hahaha, I swear!! Haha, but I did!?"

"Hahahaha, no-ho, haha I don't care if your Boyfriend comes over! Just stop!! Hahahaha!"

"Okayokayokay!! Plea-hehehehe-se don't tell my Mo-hahahaha-m!!! HahaHAHAhahaha..!!"

The reign of ticklish terror felt never-ending. Imagine my relief, though exasperated and breathless, once the fingers finally stopped.

"Okay, I think it's somebody's bed time!~"

"You're gonna be nice and quiet right? Good."

"Ok lets put on a movie.. Ooh who wants pizza?"

They left me there, twirling my pigtails as they went. Left tied, tired and uncertain of just what to expect next, I sat there and prayed that tonight would be the last ever night in which I'd need babysitting.

#tickle community #tickling #tickle blog #tickle #ticklish #tword community #tickles #tickled #ticklish brat #ticklish feet #tickle fic

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ryansen · 7 months

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uh... Ok. I like to draw blood on characters.

#I'm sorry that I'm not very active here #but I have no ideas for drawing #kindergarten 2 #kindergarten game #kindergarten au #kindergarten #kindergarten ta #artists on tumblr #my art #art #kindergarten janitor #tw:blood

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thisbelongsto-nohbodys · 8 months

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[The Trio are dropping off Lily for her first day at kindergarten]

Anne: You have a good day and play nice with the other kids okay?

Lily: Okay, Mom.

Marcy: Don’t be afraid to ask questions to your teachers, it’s how you’ll learn.

Lily: Okay, Mama.

Sasha: We’ll be picking you up later and I want to hear everything. Got it?

Lily: Got it, Mommy. I gotta go now. Bye Moms! Love you!

[Lily hugs her 3 moms and then dashes to her teacher]

Anne: I’m surprised your dealing with this well, Sash.

Marcy: Yeah, we’re proud of you——

Sasha starts ugly crying tears of joy: Can’t believe my baby is growing up and going to school.

[Kindergarten teacher whispers to one of the TAs]

Teacher: *sigh* Looks like we got another cryer, go take Mrs Boonchuy over to the corner with the other crying parents……

#Amphibia #sashannarcy #Lily Boonchuy #Anne Boonchuy #Sasha Waybright #Marcy wu #once Sasha got over her edgy teen phase she’s more in touch with her emotions

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peaky-shelby · 1 year

Text

NEW ROMANTICS | MBAPPÉ [12]

» summary: in which an arrogant and talented football player (the best of his time as some say) and a focused and harsh critic of a journalist are gonna have to find a way to co-exist.

» chapter 12: La Petit Mort

» Writer's note: i do hope y'all are not skipping to only the scenes that the main two are together 😭😭 also this chapter will be going back and forth so read carefully.

» Taglist: @moonchildohh @formulahoe @princetongirlll818 @mavieesttriste16 @kiwisa @godessstela @hummusxx @kodzuvk @pink-manz @corbyns-smile @ippid @jayruiewo265738 @blueanfield @mrs-bellingham @sorceresski @sooblovebot @okayymochi @army7g @j-rbps @heli991113 @markhyucksmells @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @i0veless @photmath @http-isabela @rainytelevisionfilmwagon @formula101x @neymarloverxxx

@cepolar @freespirit-51 @marialikescherries @superswaggycooch @lunasmindinwriting @shadysandwichghoul @contrastedfandom @alexxcorona113 @951am @jinsoulorbitzen12 @mati09 @books-loverss @l0verl4ne @kypostsblog @bluberrycheezk @hottieluvr @calcaneous @444jodie @dudde-44 @neysgf @wallflowerjournal @p4rkyonce @toclic @kyliannnkkk @mad-die45 @tlk-duskwood @mentalbaddie @karotland

PLAYLIST ▶️

Chaos. Voices. Flashlights. Cameras. An endless of maze of people she had to pass through, that seemed to get thinner with every step she’d take. Even when she was away from the journalists, the noise remained. Teammates following behind her, calling her name but she couldn’t stop for anyone. All she could hear clearly was the loud beating of her anxious heart that anytime now would probably fall of her chest. And then silence. A loud bang of the bathroom door closing and everything was shut out of the door. She cuddled herself on the floor, hugging her knees up to her chest and counting down the numbers she had learned from kindergarten.

MAGAZINE “MATCH” LONDON OFFICES – 1 MONTH LATER

Silence. Low sound of keyboards and chatter on the background. Taylor is sitting in one of the cubicle desks in main foyer. She has her head leaned on her hand, her face giving away her boredom as she read through one of the articles that were sent to her. She printed it and got up, she went to her Boss’s office, leaving the files on his desk.

“Already done?” he asked

“I’m a quick reader.”

“or a lazy one.”

“I don’t appreciate my work ethic being questioned like that.” She warned, cutting off his jokes before he could go any farther.

“right… thank you, you can go then.”

“Did you consider my request? About champions league?”

“I told you I have more experienced writer’s on that.”

“Did you even read my points?”

Her boss rolled his eyes “Ms. Wilock, why don’t you go back and finish your work instead of telling me how to do mine?”

She wanted to punch him. Knock his head on the desk and walk away with her head held high but instead she just left his office, cursing every curse word on the dictionary. As she sat back on her desk and opened her computer, she saw a post about the PSG game against Montpellier and Kylian’s injury that apparently was gonna keep him out of the game with Bayern. Her mind going back to the last time she saw all of them together.

1 MONTH EARLIER – PARC DE PRINCES

Kylian rushed to find her, he was stopped by Neymar before he could reach the bathroom door, pushed back by him. “Told you not to fuck with her!” he warned. Kylian slapped Neymar’s hand away and tried to move passed him. Ney stood in front of him, unbothered “Leave her alone!”

They’d continue fighting if it wasn’t for Taylor’s father walking by them to get to his daughter. Kylian slipped away from Neymar and followed Charlie. Marquinhos joining them shortly after.

“Taylor, it’s me! Open the door!” Said her dad knocking for her. There was no response.

“What the ‘ell happened?” Verratti came in, raising his hands. The second Kylian saw him, he felt like he lost any patience he was left with. He tried to attack him, jumping forward.

“Toi et ta ami!” he shouted, Marquinhos held him back. Standing between Verratti and Mbappe. The team was falling apart and all because of a vicious woman that wanted to make a name for herself in the cost of others.

“You’re blaming this on Verratti?” yelled Neymar, ready to grab Kylian by the arm but getting dragged away last minute by Messi. “He’s not the one that said those things about her on a microphone!”

“I didn’t know I was being recorded!” he defended himself.

Taylor’s father kept knocking, still no response, while the boys behind him were fighting like animals but he didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about whose fault it was, he just wanted to make sure that his daughter would be ok. The door opened just a tiny bit and he got inside, shutting it again. Kylian was gonna walk in as well if it wasn’t for Neymar standing in front of it. “Don’t you fucking dare!” The door flew open again, her father coming out worried.

“Get one of the medics here, Now!” he shouted and Leo with Marquinhos were the first to ran down the hallway and search for help. Mbappe snuck in the bathroom and saw her on the floor, her back on the wall, half conscious, rapid breathing, her hand on her chest. She had been showing signs of getting worse for a while now, he never thought it’d be this bad. Neymar held her up with the help of her father and Kylian felt so helpless, so useless in that moment. He was pushed by the medics who came in and took control with moving her while they gave her an oxygen mask to help her breathing. That gave her some sort of peace. He trailed behind the medics while they moved her to calmer room, to let her lay in there. He watched them moving calmly around her, one of them injecting her with something while her dad gave them her full medical history from the back of his head. He made a few steps, he wanted to find the one that caused this. He went to exit the room and Messi blocked him.

“I know what you are thinking and it’s not happening.”

“I just wanna talk to her.”

“She’s with Galtier. He’s handling it.”

“He doesn’t care about taylor.” Said Kylian, waving his head “He’ll just fire her when Ann tells him everything.”

“What’s everything?”

Kylian didn’t answer but his eyes betrayed him. Everything about his posture was betraying him. Messi held back any judgement, there was just pity in his eyes while he looked at Kylian with his hands on his hips. “go home.” He told him. “She’ll be ok and the journalist will be handled— Kylian! You do anything else and this will only get worse for her. Go home.”

“I’ll take him.” Said Neymar. The two other men looked at him kinda worried “I’m not gonna drive the car on a wall, don’t worry.”

Kylian looked behind Neymar, Charlie was coming out of the small room with one of the medics, looking calm. Neymar turned around and walked over to Charlie “Is she good?”

“Yes. She’s fine, it was just an episode.” Charlie met Kylian’s eyes, it was easy for him to point out the guilt in them. Kylian gathered up his courage and walked up to him.

“I’m sorry for the part I might have had in this—”

Charlie raised his hand “Don’t, son. This wasn’t you. Her disease is something we both had to live with, like you, I blamed myself a lot. But it’s no ones fault.” He paused “Walk with me.” He motioned his head and Kylian followed. For the first few steps they said nothing, then— “It’s a tricky thing, our condition. It makes everything a little harder. Things that come easy to most of the people, like breathing, it’s something we struggle with most times.” They stopped in front of a window, the moon watching over them. “She had to sacrifice way more than I did, I think sacrificing became a way of living for her.” He looked up and down at Kylian “I’m not dumb. I know more than she thinks about you two.” Kylian looked down. “I can also see in your eyes that you didn’t mean to hurt her today.” Kylian rubbed his face.

“I don’t even remember talking to that woman.”

“My worst fear is that when I am gone, Taylor will sacrifice everything again. Cause sacrificing it’s all she’s ever known. And I need to be sure before I do, that she’ll have something that will stop her from doing so. Anything that she can count on, the same way she is counting on me.” Kylian could already feel the weight of what her father was asking him “if you wanna make it better, make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Kylian let his words linger in his head. He thought about it while Neymar was driving him home. The silence was loud between the two.

“I should have spoken to Galtier.” He suddenly said “see what he knows. Prevent him from making any rush decisions.” Neymar gripped on the steering wheel. “What happened is on me. If he doesn’t know about me and her there’s no reason to fire her—”

“He knows Kylian!” Kylian looked up at Neymar. Neymar puffed his cheekbones “I spoke with Marquinhos. Ann told him everything. All her theories at least. She’s running with it…” he shook his head “Taylor shouldn’t have to go through this. They’ll eat her alive.”

Kylian wanted to knock his head in the window, instead he settled for hitting his knee repeatedly. While he was trying to recall anytime that they might have been seen together, anytime they held on each other for too long when they were cameras around, every time he teased her, brought her to her limit.

“HEY!KY! STOP!”

“MERDE!” He yelled and punched the door with his fist.

“Galtier is trying to control it”

“he’s going to control it by firing her—I promised her this wouldn’t happen!”

Neymar stopped the car outside of Kylian’s garage. A moment ago he would be yelling at him but he could see how much he was regretting his actions and how guilty he felt for Taylor. Perhaps, he thought, he really cared about his friend. “Go to sleep. We can fix this in the morning.”

Kylian nodded and left his car. He went up to his house, sitting on his bed, the bed she used to spent her nights in for a week before he blew everything up. He closed his eyes, covering them with his hands and let his mind wonder to the few memories he had with her. During half time, just a few hours ago the team was in the locker rooms, messed up because of how the game was going. She walked to the middle. Her eyes meeting his, because they had this secret understanding with each other.

“we’re a team” she said, her voice low but confident “from the ball boys, to you, to all the assistants, me, Galtier, we are a team. We lose and mourn together, win and celebrate together and defeats are softened and victories sweetened because we did them together.” She was looking at him when she said the last few words, he smiled. “so go out there and be a team and whatever happens we will deal with it together.”

Together. He wanted to hug her when she said that, it’s like his body and soul needed the contact and it killed him that he couldn’t do it. He settled for a short squeeze of hands and went back out there to play, clueless of the chaos that would follow just a while after. She doesn’t deserve it, he thought.

He got up quickly and went at his desk on the living room, throwing his documents left and right searching for something. He looked under the desk too but couldn’t find it. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t stop until he did.

TAYLOR’S HOUSE – NIGHT

“come on, lay down.” Charlie helped her sit on the bed and ran on the kitchen to get an extra glass of water for her. She drank it all, mostly because she knew her father wouldn’t really give her a choice about it. Then she laid down, closing her eyes. “you need rest.”

“I need to know what the public knowns.”

“Nothing about you and Kylian yet, other than that you hate each other. What are you doing—put the phone down.” He took the phone from her and left it back on the nightstand.

“I want to talk to Galtier!”

“Tomorrow! You need to sleep!

“Did Marquinhos call?”

“Taylor!”

She kept her mouth shut, biting her lip, her eyes reflecting all of the sorrow she was feeling “did he call?”

Her father took the glass from her hand and laid her on the bed, dragging the blankets from under her and covering with them so she would warm. He tucked her in, lifting the blanket up to her chin so no part of her would be exposed. Taylor kept looking at him, waiting for him to give answer. “sleep, you’ll talk to everyone in the morning.”

But the night would only grow longer and the morning didn’t seem to be coming any time soon for either of the two and the grew more impatient, waiting for the sun to come up. Kylian was the first to leave his apartment. It was barely morning, the sky was still purple, the Paris streets were empty and as he drove, he kept thinking if he was doing the right thing. Then all of a sudden he was outside of Galtier’s mansion. He knocked on the door, a repeated loud knock until one of the maids opened up and he rushed inside, searching for his coach. Galtier came out of his kitchen confused.

“What are you doing here?”

“You shouldn’t fire her!”

Galtier sighed, his face proving just how tired he was already from this situation.

“Listen to me! I didn’t mean what I said—I was angry!” he searched in his pocket.

“Kylian! It’s not about what you said—” Galtier stopped talking when Kylian slapped a napkin on his hand. He looked at it, examined it, trying to understand what it was. He could make up some of the names on it, a shape that looked like a football pitch. The handwriting was Taylor’s.

“She did an entire game strategy on napkin. Just two days after she got here. A freaking napkin. And we won! You really going to waste this talent because I was an asshole?” Galtier looked up at him. Pity in his eyes. He motioned for Kylian to come inside the kitchen, he told him to seat while he poured a cup of coffee for each of them. He left the napkin on the table, along with the cup and sat down next to him. Kylian’s confidence was gone, he was back to being a guilty boy, his eyes turned away from anyone that could read them to find out just how broken he was.

“How much of it is true?” asked Galtier. Kylian focused on the smoke from the warm coffee in front of him. He didn’t want to admit to anything that might have been too much, what if it was a trick question. That was a good enough answer for Galtier. “She doesn’t have any pictures. If she did the story would be out already. You’re lucky. But you’re not safe. She’s not safe from the press or the internet.” All Kylian wanted to do was drop his face on the burning coffee. “Ann has in her hands what could be a career changing story, you think she’s going to let it go out of the good of her heart?” Galtier drank a little from his coffee, left the cup back down.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is to let me handle it, so both the team and Taylor come out of it unharmed.”

“What about her job?”

Galtier paused, looked in Kylian’s eyes “that’s not my decision. And before you go rushing to the president’s house… it’s not his decision either. If you know what I mean…”

KYLIAN’S HOUSE – 1 MONTH LATER

“Fuck!” he groaned as he sat up from his couch. It had been a while since the injury but it still hurt when he moved abruptly. He walked over to his door and opened it, to find Neymar and Messi on the other side. Neymar was holding a bag with food and Messi had a box with beers. They walked in before Kylian invited them too, they were already in some deep conversation, speaking in Spanish. Kylian watched them walking to the couch, a bit confused as to why they were here in the first place. The two of them sat on the couch, making themselves comfortable. Neymar even took of his shoes so he could lay his legs on the table and Leo sat cross-legged on the pillows. Kylian approached them slowly, narrowing his eyes, he crossed his arms, standing over them, waiting for them to notice him and pause their conversation. Suddenly Neymar turned to him, looking a little annoyed to Kylian’s surprise.

“You can stand there the whole night? Sit down man, eat!” Neymar opened the bag and took out a couple of wrapped tacos. He placed them on Kylian’s table, who, again, watched while his two teammates started eating over his couch.

“Gosh, these are good! Kylian you should try them—”

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, waving his hands in the air.

Neymar looked at him with a full bite in his mouth, his expression resembling one of a kid’s that was being reprehended by his mum while eating. Leo stuffed his mouth with the rest of the taco and wiped the sausage from his lips. Then he opened one of the beers “Beer?” he asked and held it for him. Kylian was still confused by accepted the beer anyway. He sat on one of the chairs and Leo gave a beer to Neymar as well.

“How’s your leg?” asked Leo.

Kylian was still drinking so he shrugged his shoulders as a response.

“What did the doctor say about Bayern?” questioned Neymar.

“They don’t know yet!” he admitted and stared at the floor.

“Are you flying to the Event tomorrow?”

“Yes, why?”

Leo and Neymar gave each other a knowing look, Ney leaned forward and took a paper magazine out of the bag, throwing it on the table. The sound made Kylian look up, his eyes falling on the magazine and reading the headline. Something about Champions League. He gazed at Neymar “what’s that?”

“Read it!” prompted Leo. Kylian stretched out his body to get the magazine and opened it to start reading, multiple columns about multiple teams.

“What am I supposed to be reading?”

“Page 12.”

Kylian flipped the pages, stopping on page 12 and started reading. It was an interview of a footballer’s wife that he had never even heard of.” He was wondering why he was wasting his time reading it until he reached the end and saw her name on the bottom. He raised his head at his teammates, half confused and half angry.

“There is no way she wrote this.”

“Bet she’s not proud of it, but she did.” Answered Leo.

“She hated these stuff!”

“She still does, she just doesn’t have a choice.”

Neymar cleared his throat as if he was making a shot at Kylian, but the latter ignored it “They have someone like her, writing this shit?”

“We had someone like her and didn’t use her pretty well either so I’m not sure we should be judging.” Mumbled Neymar. Kylian threw the magazine at him.

“Still don’t understand why you are here. I tried to convince her to stay. She’s barely answering my texts now. What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell us the whole truth finally! Why did she leave if the story about you two never broke out?”

Kylian thought about it, his mind going back to the last time he saw her. The shot that he lost.

PSG CAMPUS – GALTIER’S OFFICE – 1 MONTH EARLIER

Taylor felt weird walking down these hallways. She felt like she was going to be ambushed by journalist or worst Kylian before she had the chance to reach Galtier’s office but thankfully she made it there without a scar. Knocking on the door and entering slowly. Sitting in her spot, looking as awkward as she had on the first day she got here.

Galtier examined her like he was expecting her to go first but she didn’t even know where to start.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good.”

“What did the doctor’s say?”

“To take it more easy.”

“doesn’t sound like you.”

She snorted “yeah, it’s not.”

He smiled, leaned forward on his desk “I don’t know if you’ve spoken with Kylian—” she shook her head negatively immediately, Galtier nodded “in any case, there are rumors and please don’t try to refuse them, that’s not why you are here.” She lowered her head. She was a grown up, an adult, pretending this wasn’t her fault would be childish. “As you understand, stay or leave, there need to be some differences around here. And you need to prepare yourself for the worst”

“I already have.” She whispered, her eyes finally meeting Galtier’s, then in one breath she said the brutal truth before he could “I can’t stay.” Galtier was taken aback by her decision, he was scared by how easily and quickly she made it. She must have noticed the terror in his eyes because she was quick to continue “it’s a conscious decision. I pride myself for being fair, I have to be fair with myself as much as I am with the others. What happened…” her voice trailed off, breaking because she could see him in her mind, smiling, holding her, caring for her “it was wrong.” But why did it feel so right? Why did apologizing for it felt like lying? She cleared her throat and continued “I’d love to say that I can pretend it never happened, but I won’t be able to…”

“Ms. Wilock—”

“I don’t think I belong in this world anymore. I don’t think I can keep my mouth shut when I see the things that are happening and writing…” she smiled “I miss it.”

“Looks to me like you are running away.”

“maybe.” She mumbled, staring at her fingers, scratching her nails. “But we both know the backlash, if Ann runs with the story, is going to be insufferable. I’m never going to be respected, always under the shadow of a man, Kylian and…” she paused “you. All me success will go to you, meanwhile I’ll have to deal with every sexist comment on the dictionary. And normally I wouldn’t mind, I’m tough but… half of it will be true and it’s killing me. It’s killing me that I gave them exactly what they wanted.”

Galtier listened to everything she was saying, carefully, he almost understood her. It’s only that if he had an opportunity like hers, to make the amount of money that she was making here but perhaps that was the difference between the two. So he let her go as quickly as she came. She exited his office, head held high but eyes burning with the need to cry and her body asking to fall apart. There was something about making rush decisions like that, like pulling off a band aid to open wound, doctors always said that was the right way, right? In any case she was used to do doing it like that, losing a career from one day to another, losing people she loved because she was unable to love them, because she was scared.

“I wouldn’t know…I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. Don’t think I’d even recognize the feeling if I did.” Her fingers slipped into his, he held them, stroking them gently and looking down at her as they sat cross-legged on his floor, then he smiled.

“Not even Mason?”

She snorted, slapping his hand “even that was a teenage crush. Nothing more. I’m telling you, it has never happened to me, I’m not built that way.” She shrugged her shoulders “maybe it’s because I know first hand everything has an expiration date. It’s hard to be as romantic when you’ve felt that.”

He interlocked his fingers with her as they sat cross-legged on his floor, candles keeping the atmosphere calm for both of them “it’s a messy feeling” he said in a low tone “one day it drives you mad. The other it’s peace.” He smiled, gazing over her hands, so tiny and yet able to keep him still for as long as they wanted “It gets you angry, impatient, miserable and at the same time calm, proud, loved.” He brought her fingers up to his lips, leaving light kisses on them “La petite mort” he whispered in her hands. She enjoyed the feeling of his warm breath washing over her skin. It’s the first time she didn’t mind him speaking French, like language barrier between the two was broken.

“What does that mean?” she asked, waiting for him to look her in the eyes.

He continued massaging her hands, a smile coming up to his lips, a teasing smile. “Small death. Its an expression. The French use it to describe the brief loss or weakening of consciousness” he looked in her eyes, with that dirty look combined with care “otherwise known as the feeling of post orgasm as likened to death, for us French people.” Even his words had an affect on her, the way that he said them, how easily he spoke about it. She slid closer to him, blushing and smiling.

“Is that what love is to you?”

“I think it’s fair to say it weakens your consciousness. Has you dying and awakening repeatedly.”

“How did you say it?” she bit on her bottom lip.

He pushed her hair behind her ear, his finger enjoying the contact with her skin, the energy that vibrated between them and he leaned in, his lips barely touching hers “la petite mort” he said, his bottom lip hooking on her upper and dragging her closer to him until all her strengths crumbled and she dropped herself in him to chase her small death for the night.

And she wished she could chase it again but all she was chasing now was the exit, leaving the campus before he could see her, before she could lay her eyes on him because she worried that if she did all she’d chase would be him and a life made of sugar.

Kylian was training when Neymar ran to tell him that Taylor was upstairs, meeting with Galtier. Considering that all his texts went answered from the night before he ran upstairs. There was feeling of Déjà vu. Just one month ago he was running up to her and Galtier to yell, to tell her how much he hated her boss and now he was running to stop her because he couldn’t stand to the thought that he’d be the reason of her losing something she loved so much for the second time. When he got to Galtier’s office it was empty. His assistant was the bearer of bad news, Taylor had already left and she wouldn’t be coming back.

“Where are you going? We have three hours left!” Yelled Neymar but Kylian didn’t respond. Suddenly he heard a tougher voice, cold and brutal.

“Seven!” He stopped on his tracks, Galtier was standing in front of him. “I don’t suppose you are going anywhere else but training” he said, but it was more of an order “this fiasco ends here. If you wanna be anywhere else, you get there when you are done with your schedule. This is not high school football.”

Kylian gulped but he knew if she was here, she’d tell him the same thing. So, he obeyed and he continued with his training until the sun was down. While on the locker room, Verratti approached him hesitantly, sitting next to him while he was tying his shoes. He gave him a card, he took it, examining it. The name of Annette Monet, along with her details.

“You can give it to taylor if she wants to talk to her. Tell her I’m sorry if you see her.”

Kylian threw the card on his bag. “Why would I see her?”

“You were much closer than I was with her.”

“What did Annette tell you?”

“She hasn’t told me anything. It was me that did most of the talking but I didn’t think…”

“I told you not to get a journalist involved Marco!”

“She was a friend.”

“Obviously not.” He tied the knot on his shoe tighter and got up.

How did he find himself in her apartment? Knocking on her door to be let in? He’s been asking himself the same question ever since that night. One minute he was driving and the other he was standing in front of Charlie, same look in his eyes as the day before. Charlie was smoking a cigarette, he made note of it because he thought it was weird for him to be smoking in his condition. Then he heard Taylor walking closer to the door “I told you to lit that thing off! For crying out loud dad—” she stopped in her steps when she saw Kylian. She was holding cash in her hand, probably expecting the delivery man instead. They looked at each other, silent, until her father took the initiative to invite Kylian in and excused himself seconds later, leaving them alone.

Kylian looked around the room, her suitcases on the floor, a pile of clothes on the desk. Her room looked as messy as ever but it was a different kind of messy, it didn’t feel as warm as he remembered it to.

“What are you doing?” he asked almost disappointed.

She didn’t reply, instead she gazed away from him. Looking at some sort of comfort in her walls, considering digging a hole so she could sneak out of this situation quicker. He made a step forward, confident. “Why?” he asked and it made have been one word but it mirrored a thousand questions that she didn’t have a clear answer to.

“There’s no use talking about it Kylian, what’s done is done.”

“We can stop her from putting out the article—”

”no we can’t and what’s worse is that we can’t stop ourselves! We can delay her, we can put a pause to this, we can pretend we are not driving towards a cliff but eventually we’ll pay the price.”

“Even if it breaks, I can protect you. I’ll take the heat--”

“no you won’t!” she mumbled, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead.

“Merde—you think I’d let you alone in this--?”

“I have no doubt that you’ll do your best not to Kylian but you’re a man. No one’s gonna care about you fucking the new assistant. If anything, you’ll be praised for it! Me? I’ll always be the slut, my abilities will always be compared to this, poisoned by this. They don’t even know about this so far and your interview already has them hating on me—”

“That interview was illegal!”

“Does it really matter what it was?” She topped his voice. Kylian held back from answering. Maybe because he knew it didn’t make any difference. He really had said those things about her, what’s worse is that he really believed them when he said them. “Honestly between you and me, I don’t know if you ever trusted me as a coach at all! Don’t—” she raised her hand to stop him “you don’t have to say anything. It doesn’t matter, just please understand, that this is for the best.”

“You’re letting go of your dream for a stupid rumor—”

“where’s the fucking dream Kylian? Because this shit feels like a nightmare since day one. Me, trying to be someone I’m not. Chasing a vision, I had when I was a kid and realizing it comes with things I could never stand behind. I value respecting myself and choices more than the zeros on the paycheck.”

“What about me, then?” he asked, his voice firmer. “What about Ney? The rest of them? Is that what all of this was to you? Zeros on a paycheck?”

“Obviously not—”

“Then why are you acting like you’re just leaving a job?”

��So, I won’t break apart!” she yelled, her voice breaking, trembling. She hid her face immediately after she said it. Covering her eyes. “You think this easy? Cause it’s not.” She whispered in her palms and waited to hear the door opening and closing but instead she felt him coming closer, she felt his hands on her shoulders. His head leaning closer.

“This is my fault—”

“Its not about that!” she said, looking up. Having him this close was making her stomach ache. “We are both adults. All of this has been a series of choices that I made for myself. My choice when I gave in to you knowing there’d be consequences, my choice to keep it a secret, not putting an end to it and this… this is my choice too. I’m not letting anyone else make it for me, not Ann, not Galtier, not the world and not you. It’s just me facing the music--” she held his face in her hands, her thumb stroking his eyebrow “and I don’t blame you for it either. I knew what I was doing.” She leaned closer, her eyes began to stink “I wanted it. In a way, this is me protecting it.”

“It’s the wrong choice.”

“Maybe.” It came out so soft “But at least it’s mine.” She smiled and a second later she dived in his hold while he held her against his chest, his face hidden in her hair. Her face was molded on his shoulders, sinking in his perfume, his skin, his everything. He squeezed her in his arms, making a memory of what it felt like to have her there. “Do me a favor.” Her voice came out muffled from his shoulders.

“What?”

“Take a look at your leg before it’s too late.”

He laughed, his body vibrating. She tilted her head and kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on his cheekbone, he moved slowly, his head turning so he’d be kissing her lips instead. A slow kiss, their lips hooking on each other’s and dragging each other out until he molded his completely in hers.

“I’ll stop the article.” He whispered

“How?”

“I’ll find a way.” He said and he was confident. She kissed his cheek again and pulled away because any longer and they wouldn’t be able to control themselves.

TAYLORS’S HOUSE / LONDON – 1 MONTH LATER

Taylor threw her bags on the couch and walked over to the kitchen, getting a beer from the fridge. She started drinking when she heard tiny steps coming down the stairway, she walked back in the living room to meet her sister, who rushed to her arms.

“Hey little one!” she laughed, accepting the hug. “Ready for bed?”

“Can you convince mama to watch a little TV?” she pouted

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I think it’s time to sleep.”

“That’s right, thank you Taylor!” said Beth as she came down the stairs. Taylor smiled when she saw her and knelt down in front of Lily, stroking her long black curls.

“How about you run upstairs and I read you a bedtime story?”

“Will it be about football?”

She laughed “I was thinking the little mermaid.”

Lily nodded with a smile and ran up the stairs. Taylor turned to Beth, the smile fading from her face. “How’s dad?”

“Same as yesterday but he still got that fucking cigarette in his hand.”

Taylor went to find her father. He was in his office, a cigarette in one hand and a pen in the other, he was writing, always writing she thought as she approached him. He lit it off when he saw her by pressing it on the ashtray and he smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak but it was interrupted by coughing.

“She’s right for being mad at you, you know?”

“I know.” He sighed “but it’s only the second one, I promise.”

She noticed he had his inhaler laid on the table, next to the papers. He got up “Is lily in bed?”

“Yes.” She said but she was still looking at the inhaler. Terrifying how much a person could be depended on material things after all. “Did you speak with the doctor?” she crossed her arms to her chest, biting her cheek.

“Same old. Same old.” He stroked his daughter’s face. “Let’s not talk about it.” He kissed her temple and walked away. That’s when her phone began to buzz in her pocket, she took it out, looking at the caller id, comfort washing over her as she the name and picked it up.

“How’s my terrifyingly tall best friend doing?”

His laugh echoed on her ear. “I’m good. Missed ya. Are you coming tomorrow?” She puffed her cheeks, having completely forgotten about the invitation. “I’ll take that as a yes because you don’t really have a choice.”

“Jude, it’s not the best of time and I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me call Trish and have her dragging you at the party—”

“You wouldn’t, you’re terrified of her.”

“That’s not true.” He said but his tone was betraying him. Taylor laughed. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you come. Maze will be here, Saka, Rashford—I heard beckham might make an appearance!”

“Now you’re just straight up lying!”

“Maybe but it’s what I’ll tell Trish and you know she’ll do anything in her power for you to come if she hears Beckham will be there.”

“You play dirty!”

“I play smart, love.”

She snorted. Looking behind her at Beth and her father leading Lily to her bedroom. “Will any other teams be there?” she heard him chuckling from the other side of the phone “Don’t be a smug!”

“it’s a party TJ! I don’t have the full list. Just come, have a drink. I wanna introduce you to a few people. Please for me. Do it for breaking my heart as a kid. It’s your last chance to see me before I head back to Germany”

“Fine. Ok. But I’m leaving early.”

“Sounds good to me darling.”

Some days he’d catch himself thinking about her, he’d hear a whistle and turn around expecting her to be there, moving her finger at him. He’d have a bad game and expect her to turn up in the locker room, yelling and making her sarcastic comments. Her exit was noticed by everyone, for most on the field but for Kylian, he’d feel it at home too. His lonely, big and cold home with the million-dollar view and the lifeless interior. He tried to replace her by flirting, going out, focusing on getting better and for a short time he thought he made it. During games he wouldn’t think about her so much, he’d play like he used to, her perfume fading from her memory until he felt the pain in his thigh midgame. It was brutal. He had to sit down, cursing himself while the medics gathered around him. He could hear her so clearly on his mind, the “I told you so” slipping from her lips.

And now while he was laying on his bed, reading her name on a magazine, thinking about the talent that was being wasted, he wished she was there, so he could tell her to run. Instead, she was stuck back in her own life, in her family home, tucking in her sister, working in an office in the morning and seeing her dad slowly fading. Different hallways, different lives. She laid on her couch, tv on, lights dim and she was writing on her computer, an article about Champions League and the teams that would be playing against each other next week. One of them of course was PSG and then she had to write his name and suddenly her fingers froze on the keyboard and she looked at it. Names, she thought, they have so much power over people.

NATIONAL EURO TEAMS EVENT – NIGHT

“This dress is too fucking tight” said taylor, dragging it so it wouldn’t lift too high.

“No…” mumbled Trish “that’s just you.”

Taylor smacked her as the two of them walked in the after party and Trish would have reacted if she wasn’t scanning the place for all the hot footballers she could get laid with. So many familiar faces and yet there was one missing “do you see beckham anywhere?”

“Jesus Trish, he is not coming. Bellingham lied to you—”

“No, he didn’t. I know when he lies, he knows I know, I can smell it on him and he’s too intimidated to lie.”

Taylor looked at her friend with worry, wondered how she always got her way with men so easily. Suddenly she felt someone coming and throwing his arm around her, and she would have jump if she didn’t recognize the cologne. She turned her head up, a smile Jude Bellingham pulling her closer to him.

“Jude, I can’t breathe—”

“Ah! I’m so happy you came!”

“Where is he Jude?” Asked Trish, interrupting their sweet moment. Jude looked up at her, smirking.

“Brought your bulldog with you, I see!” he smiled. “He’s not here yet.”

Trish walked closer to him, perhaps too close and Taylor watched them. She could feel the energy between the two, something between hate, fear and love, it was such a familiar sensation. “If he doesn’t show up, I’m gonna blame you and you are going to find that unpleasant.” She poked his chest and backed away, turning around--

“I’ve got to tell you something, you’re kinda hot when you’re like this.”

She flipped her hair, gave him a smirk “I’m always like this.”

Taylor couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw Jude checking Trish out as she walked away, specifically focused on her curves, biting his tongue. “EW!” She exclaimed before she could stop herself. Jude returned his attention to her smiling and interlocked his arms with hers, “Come on, I need you to meet people.”

“What people?”

She wished she hadn’t asked because she heard so many names that night, her mind overloading with information. Until she reached the main target for the night. Sarina Wiegman, head coach of the national team of England. Jude took the initiative to introduce them while taylor was struggling to keep her cool. It was midway that she realized Jude was basically promoting her like she was a multitasking phone. She barely got the chance to speak while Jude was making a list of her entire career, sometimes exaggerating. Sarina seemed to be enjoying it, eager to know about her time in France, working with Coach Galtier.

“We are recruiting new people to follow us in Australia for the world cup. I’ll certainly keep you in mind young lady.” She said with a smile, before excusing herself. Taylor looked at Bellingham, with her mouth wide open. Jude was laughing at her reaction, feeling proud of his childhood friend.

“Did she really just say that?”

“Yeah, I think she did—”

Taylor had thrown herself on him before he could finish the sentence and he picked her up, spinning her around while they both laughed. When he let her down, she continued jumping out of excitement, only stopping when her eyes caught a sight of very familiar eyes, eyes that she hadn’t seen in years.

“Well, if it isn’t the first girl that left me on read!” He joked, a glass of champagne in one hand while the other was held out for her to shake.

“Mace…” she said in a sweet whisper, full of adoration and as soon as she gave him her hand, he pulled her in a hug. It was like she was on a time machine, surrounded by her childhood friends, before it all went to shit, a future full of possibilities. She pulled back to look at his face, smiling.

“Thank god you got rid of the bangs.”

He let out a belly laugh while Jude came round him and settled his arm around his neck “that’s what I keep telling him.”

“God this is so weird.” She mumbled “watching you two together when you both belong in different parts of my life.”

“Judy has told me all about you breaking his heart for Carbonara.”

“Carbonara is always worth it—wait a minute, did you just say Judy?”

Bellingham rolled his eyes “swear to god man—” Mason winked and squeezed Jude’s side as a joke. Jude jumped, stepping away from him immediately. “Stop doing that.” He whined. Taylor laughed at his reaction.

“You two fighting again?” Rushford stood behind Taylor, giving her a quick look before smiling “And in front of the lady?”

Taylor smiled when she saw him, putting her hand out immediately “I’m Taylor. It’s very nice to meet you, Marcus.”

“Oh? I think I just met your friend.” He shook her hand.

“Oh gosh is she drunk already?”

“I think she was looking for David beckham so possibly yes.” Taylor hid her face in her hands, groaning. “She’s with Saka now, though.”

“What’s she doing with him?” Jude asked, stepping forward and walking in between the crowd to get to Saka, Rushford followed behind them. Mason put his arm around Taylor and they started following behind the other two.

“So, is this like a European gathering for teams?”

“It’s supposed to be an unofficial celebration for the beginning of EURO 2024” He explained, talking in her ear so she’d hear better.

“Don’t tell me Ronaldo is coming.” She laughed

“Yeah, he’ll be here, right after Beckham.”

Taylor let out a loud laughter, elbowing her ex boyfriend. She looked forward, trying to find the rest of the group that had left them behind when she saw his silhouette in between all the others.

Expensive Dior suit. Golden watch on his wrist, same hand that he was holding his drink. She didn’t mean to but she held Mason’s hand, maybe because she needed to hold something in order not to run to him.

“Kylian.” She whispered and their eyes met in the darkness, the invisible string between the two, pulling them closer again.

Did he think about going to find her the minute he landed in London? Of course, he did and he probably would if it wasn’t for his management rushing him to get changed and got to event. He didn’t wanna be there, he wasn’t in the mood. His leg still hurt and most of these people, he didn’t even like but he had to pretend to be all happy and giggling. He tried to stay with his teammates from France for most of the night but people kept interrupting. He had his hand on his pocket for most of the night, ready to call her, see how she was doing. While he was in deep conversation with Giroud when he caught a glimpse of Mason Mount. He followed him with his eyes until he saw him stopping behind someone that looked like Bellingham. He tried seeing who was behind Jude but whoever it was, was short. Then his heart dropped, a woman’s figure that took him only 5 seconds to process was Taylor, being pulled into Mason’s arms. His froze right where he was, he watched, his eyes examining her every movement while she spoke with the two men she knew from childhood. Men that knew her better than he ever would probably.

“Kylian, are you ok?” Asked Giroud. Kylian looked at him quickly, nodding.

“Yes, I’ll be back right away.”

He excused himself, pushing the crowd so he’d get closer to her. Stopped when he was a few steps away from her and he saw her gripping on Mason’s arm, while her eyes locked with his.

Mason broke the ice by greeting Kylian like they were long lost friends, he even tried to make conversation with him but if you asked either Taylor or Kylian what he was saying, neither of them would be able to answer. They were to occupied listening to each other’s thoughts.

“Hey Mase. Why don’t you find Jude, I’ll come find you in five.”

Mason nodded and walked past Kylian, putting him in the shoulder as he left. Taylor then stepped closer to Kylian, motioned with her head and signaled him to follow her outside. He swallowed his entire drink in one ago and he followed.

Maybe if it wasn’t for Kylian she would have noticed her phone was out of battery again. Maybe if it wasn’t for Kylian she would have left earlier or Trish would find her quicker. Maybe she’d know that Beth was calling her repeatedly.

What do you mean in 3 chapters I'm gonna have to say goodbye to all of them????? What do you mean that this story is ending???? HOW THE FUCK DID A POSSIBLE ONE SHOT TURN TO 180 PAGES AND 90.000+ WORDS???? WHAT IN THE HELL???? WHY AM I CRYING??????? I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!! Adore you to the moon and back and thank you for always commenting please please never stop interacting it's the only thing that keeps this story going and i do not take it for granted. I can see that the hype is over and most of the readers are gone but the few that are still here please as always leave a comment to keep the fire going. Feedback is the best gift in the world. Now.... What do you think beth needs Taylor for? How did Kylian stop Ann??? Is Taylor gonna find her place in the national team and move to Australia???? SO MANY QUESTIONS!!! LEAVE YOUR ANSWERS 👀👀👀

#newromanticsfic #mbappe x reader #football writing #neymar x reader #mbappe imagines #imagines #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe imagines

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omnomnomdomcaps · 11 months

Text

Upstream - Remastered - Pt. IV

Finally reposting here, featuring the work of Bubblybuns, who you can find on JFF.

CHAPTER ONE

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Chapter Four: Placement

Vanessa hadn’t been so excited all year.

She shimmied and twirled, basking in the flexibility of her new padding, and then lifted the front of her overalls so that she could look at herself one more time in the mirror.

“All the kids at kindergarten are gonna be so jealous of my pullups,” she began, as her mother entered the room, “I bet they’re all a bunch of dumb diaper-wearing babies, probably never even sawed one of these before!”

“Oh, honey…” her mother tried to interject.

“I wonder how long it’s gonna take me to become their queen,” the girl rambled on, “a minute? A second? What’s faster than a second? A super-second? Ugh, I can’t wait to show them who’s boss.”

“Honey,” Vanessa’s mother finally stopped the girl, “let’s remember to play nice, now. And I got you those pullups to help you for your interview today, but if you’re going to keep wearing them, you need to let me know when you have to use the potty, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” the girl rolled her eyes.

Her mother sighed. “You say that, but you’re soaked,” she said, patting the front of Vanessa’s training pants, “when were you planning on telling me?”

The girl’s face reddened, and she coiled up into what her mother termed her grumpy pose. "Well, how was I supposed to know that!?" she exclaimed.

The girl would maintain her crossed arms and pout as her mother tore off her sopping trainers and began pulling on a fresh pair.

"Prolly doesn't matter anyway," she grumbled, "not like they're gonna make me go ta school with those dumb babies. I'm just gonna ace today and then they'll send me up to the first grade and then the second grade..."

"And what comes after that?" her mother asked, in the voice of a kindergarten teacher.

The girl blinked a few times, then shrugged. "I dunno, what?"

"Well, that would be third grade," the mother chuckled, "might be good to know that for today."

Vanessa rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, whatever.”

The girl’s eagerness only built as she entered the elementary complex, holding her mother’s hand. There was her old high school in the distance, where she had ruled so gloriously until this year’s sudden turn. There were the third and fourth- grade classrooms, where she had honed her craft of toying with the other children. There were the first- and second- grade rooms, which brought back memories of first imposing her will in the playground. And finally, in the very back of the building, there was the designated kindergarten, where a small crowd had gathered to await her arrival.

As she walked in, finally releasing her mother’s hand, Vanessa observed that the desks had been stacked up towards the sides of the room, leaving a wide patch of open carpet in the center. Her friend Fiona was in the corner, giving the girl a wide smile and a thumbs up while holding a phone out in her other hand. A handful of teacher’s aides were standing around, some of whom the girl recognized as old classmates. And there was a cheery-looking twenty-something, with a long, blonde ponytail, sitting at the teacher’s desk.

“Hello! I’m Ms. Henderson, the teacher here at the kindergarten. And you must be-”

“I’m wearing pullups!” the girl blurted out, lifting her overalls to show off.

“That’s… lovely, dear,” the teacher said, trying to shake the twinge of discomfort from her voice, “now I understand that you were at the high school last year?”

“Yuh-huh! I was the popularest in the whole school! But then some weird stuff happened...” Vanessa drifted off.

“And now you’d like to enroll in the kindergarten?”

“Yeah…” Vanessa answered, the energy draining from her voice, “I guess.”

“I think she means that she would love to,” her mother chimed in nervously.

“MOM!” The girl’s face flushed red again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” the teacher assured them, “we just want to find what level best suits Vanessa.

“With that in mind,” the woman continued, “we want to just make sure you’re kindergarten-ready. Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

“Okay,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “fine.”

“Now then, no need to be grumpy,” Ms. Henderson began, her kindergarten-teacher demeanor coming into view, “why don’t you take a seat on the rug? Just right in the middle of our space here.

“Yes, right there,” she pointed, “right on your butt. Can you show me your best criss-cross applesauce? Hands in front, back straight, face forward."

Vanessa fuddled around for some time, trying to keep the directions straight, but eventually managed to reach the desired position, taking a cross-legged pose in the center of the room.

“Wonderful!” the teacher commended, before turning to her aide, “Mr. Thomas, could you please hand Vanessa the shape blocks?”

The man - who Vanessa recognized as a graduate of her old high school, from the class year prior to what used to be hers - did as he was asked, placing a tray of three blocks in front of the girl.

“Can you show me which one the triangle is?”

Shapes. Vanessa remembered them being brought up a few times on the shows she watched, but never paid much attention when they were. Still, she thought for a few moments before deciding on one she thought was prettiest.

“No, I’m afraid that’s the circle, sweetheart.”

“Not quite. That’s the square.”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s the square again.”

“Oh, I'm sorry… why don’t we try something else?”

Vanessa tossed the block in her hand aside, happy to be done with the exercise.

The teacher tapped her pen on her several times, scratching her head before turning it back up towards the girl. “Vanessa, sweetie, could you count to ten for me?”

“To ten?” Vanessa confirmed, as she tried to think how large ten was, “uhhhh… okay. Umm, one… two…”

The girl paused, looking at the ceiling for several moments. “Third?” she tried, unconvinced by her own answer.

“That’s very close! But not quite there - would you like to try again?” the teacher offered.

“Poopy,” Vanessa muttered under her breath, before losing her train of thought completely.

“Ummm, what was the question again?”

“We just wanted to hear you count to ten, sweetie.”

“Oh, okay okay.” The girl puffed her cheeks out and concentrated as hard as she could. “Ummmm… one… two…”

Vanessa stared once more at the ceiling, trying to think what the next number could possibly be. Was it five? No, that didn’t sound right. Third? No, something about that felt off as well. Eleven?

Eleven. The girl giggled to herself at the silly-sounding word. That’s not a number. How did I even come up with that?

“Uhh, sweetie,” the teacher said uneasily after a few moments of silence, “why don't you draw us a picture?”

“Ooooh, a picture!” Vanessa’s attention jumped over immediately, “Yeah, I draw the bestest pictures, you’ll see!”

Ms. Henderson forced a chuckle. “That’s lovely, dear. Mr. Thomas, could you?”

The aide collected a thick sheet of paper and a box of crayons from the supply bin and carried it over to the girl on the rug. He had a strain on his face from holding back laughter, but Vanessa hadn’t noticed it at all.

Instead, she was poised downward and hungrily licking her lips, eager to impress with this new activity. Moving quickly, she fixed the sheet of paper in front of her and then poured the box of crayons out onto the floor, grabbing the first black one she saw with such force that she could barely hear the loud rumble that came from her stomach as she did so.

Vanessa clutched the crayon in her fist and began to assemble haphazard shapes on the paper. First, there was a roughly made circle, and then a long line drawn down from it. Next, the girl added two uneven lines jolting out from the bottom of the long stick, and two uneven lines near the top. Finally, she added a makeshift smiley face inside the circle, and several clumsy waves around it to represent her hair. It was her crude self-portrait, but it wasn’t done yet.

The girl tossed aside the black crayon and reached for a yellow one. After pausing for a few breaths, she began to add the final element, a crown for her stick-figure avatar. She started with a misshapen triangle, pointing far up and to the left from the top of the figure’s head. But as she began to make the motion to draw a second triangle, pointing up and to the middle, she was interrupted by a sudden urge.

Vanessa scrunched her face, crayon still tightly in her fist, instinctively pushed her bottom upwards, and grunted. All around, there were gasps of shock and muffled bursts of uncomfortable laughter, as well as an audible “oh dear” from the girl's mother. Immediately, everyone in the room knew exactly what was happening.

Everyone, that is, except for Vanessa.

Vanessa let out a deep sigh as she thought back to that day at the kindergarten. It had taken several weeks for her mother to finally tell her the school's decision, but when she did, it hit the girl as both a shock and a revelation. Slowly, she began to piece together the mistakes she made, starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, she might have been a little too sure of herself.

So when word arrived that the town preschool would allow Vanessa to join in the coming year, with no preconditions, she made sure not to take the opportunity for granted.

The girl began to watch her educational shows more earnestly, trying to pick up all the lessons that she could. Most would still go well over her head, but bits and pieces stuck. At the very least, their frequent singsong and nursery rhyme elements gave her something to exercise her memory, with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” quickly becoming a favorite tune.

She also began to pry curiously about the sorts of classmates she could expect to have at the preschool, although her mother was initially hesitant. And when she finally did relent and tell the girl, it became clear why.

Vanessa listened in horror to stories of almost perfectly potty-trained children, capable of counting past ten and reciting their ABC’s, and wondered how she could ever be able to compete with such intellectual heavyweights.

“Just play nice,” her mother would say, “and they’ll play nice with you. Share with them, they’ll share with you, and they’ll help you when you need help. Show them kindness, they’ll be less likely to pick on you, and you’ll have more friends on your side if they do.”

As foreign as the idea seemed at first, it did look to Vanessa like her only real chance to fit in, and so the advice finally began to take.

And now, at last, the day was upon her. After such a shocking exit from the top of the high school heap, after months and months away in infantile isolation, Vanessa was about to start her first day back at school. She tucked in her white shirt, adjusted her Hello Kitty backpack, and tried her best to get her short plaid skirt to cover her much-needed, thick, pink diaper.

But there was one more thing left to do.

“One…”

The girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to think back to an episode of Blue’s Clues she had watched the previous day.

“Two…”

Excitement crept in as she imagined impressing her preschool teachers and classmates, proving to them that she truly belonged.

“Three…”

The girl concentrated as hard as she could, sweat beginning to form on her furrowed brow.

“Five.”

Vanessa exhaled and gave a soft fist pump, before opening her eyes and turning them towards her open door.

Briefly, the girl wrinkled her nose, wondering if a new smell in the room had anything to do with the growing feeling at the seat of her pants. But she soon dismissed the thought and strut forward, ready once again to take on the world.

****

#ab/dl #upstream

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