#me and my horrible editing skills back at it again

[hyypnotix-writes]

Part 3

~ howdy! it's here ..I don't fully know how I feel about it, I might keep editing it at another point, but I've taken the piss with keeping you waiting for so long, I just want you to have something ~

~ it's long - I thought the other two were bad enough but this is longer than both of them combined. it's 26k words so I'm very sorry, and I do understand if that's too much for any of you ~

~ I don't know how to break it up to make it easier, or more fun, for you to read. I hope it doesn't put all of you off, but unless you're an incredibly quick reader ..you will probably have to read this one when you genuinely have nothing else to do ~

~ I'm not sure how well this chapter will go down, this could well be the end of our little journey together ~

~ I've had a lot of fun writing for all of you if it is, despite me stressing myself out with it! you've all been very kind and lovely, and however you've enjoyed any part of my writing, I've really appreciated every interaction ~

~ whether you liked, reblogged, or sent me a little message - every single one of you has made me smile, so I really hope this doesn't disappoint any of you too much! ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

Part 1 Part 2

________________

Rain is absolutely not what you signed up for when you agreed to come to Barcelona with your sister. Travelling all the way to sunny Spain, and bringing the bloody British weather with you as you go? What a horrible little joke.  

You’re not going to be the sun-kissed envy of your friends if it stays like this, you’ll be going back to London even paler than you were when you left it.  

The rainfall dribbles down the outside of the window, opposite where you rest your forehead, and a mournful sigh escapes your lips as you look out at the abysmal sight of the city streets down below. You draw a smiley face with your finger, where your breath fogged up the glass, and you try to mirror the expression on your own face as you extract yourself from the pane and flop back down onto the bed with a very dramatic groan.  

It’s already been one of the longest mornings of your life, and it’s only just turned 10:00.  

Sleep eluded you once again last night. Every hour, on the hour, you watched the clock tick over. Seconds suspending themselves in the air, minutes moving like molasses, as you counted infinite sheep in your head. Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say, but boy does it drag its heels when you’re praying for it to soar.  

Despite your fun little belief that you might’ve finally been sleeping soundly last night, it didn’t actually come to fruition. It turns out that it’s quite difficult for someone to fall asleep after finding out that the woman they’re falling for has secretly been a famous sporting icon the whole time that they’ve known her. Who’d have thought? 

It’s still a little hard for you to wrap your head around. The fact that she’s a bit famous, and her celebrity status stems from football of all things. Even with detective skills as exceptional as yours, that possibility never crossed your mind.  

Exhaustion is starting to plague your body after so many restless nights, and the antisocial behaviour you’re demonstrating because of it, isn’t largely appreciated by your sister. Abandoning Em to go and have breakfast on your own, before she had chance to wake up and join you, wasn’t a deliberate act of cruelty from you, you genuinely thought you were doing her a favour by letting her have a lie in.  

You are on holiday together, though, so she didn’t fully enjoy waking up alone in your shared hotel room. She made that much abundantly clear to you, with the countless strongly worded text messages that you received as you awkwardly traipsed back upstairs to apologise to her.  

A silent and forceful barging into your shoulder was all that greeted you, as you returned to the room and she made her exit from it.  

It’s unfortunate. She’s in a pissy mood, the weather’s in a pissy state, and you have to go to a pissing football match later on this evening. What a cruel world it is that you’re living in.  

It’s very unnatural that your one saving grace of the day is the pissing football match that you have to attend. That being one of the highlights of your holiday, really won’t make much sense at all to any of your friends when you tell them about it.  

You stare longingly at your phone for a while, tapping your fingers over your torso as you wait for Em’s return from breakfast. You let out a soft sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling, before gently closing your eyes, in the futile hopes of having a quick nap. The darkness behind your eyelids allows your mind to wander all too freely. Which it very quickly does, to more thoughts of Alexia. The same way that it has done, since the very first moment that she so casually waltzed into your life.  

This morning, however, it’s not thoughts of confusion, that cloud your brain. Sexuality concerns and hopeless pining are far from the forefront of your mind. It’s excitement that envelops you, anticipation. The fact that you’ve found your impossible-to-find woman, and that she’s no longer impossible for you to find at all. She may very well be one of the easiest people to locate, in all of Barcelona, as it happens. Knowing that you get to see her, at least one more time again this evening, even if it’s only from a distance, is a promise that has an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and your heart doing cartwheels inside of your chest.  

There’s the distinct feeling of potential that hangs in the air for tonight. You can’t pretend that you’re not feeling hopeful about seeing her a little bit more up-close-and-personal than just from your seat in the stands. You’d quite like to be able to congratulate her, if the scoreline goes in her favour.  

You pull the neck of Alexia’s sweatshirt up over your face, in an attempt to fully bring the possibilities to life in the playground of your imagination, and you let out another sigh as you rest your hand over your stomach.  

It really doesn’t smell enough like her anymore, but it still your favourite item of clothing, as it is still very much hers. It’s the most effective key for unlocking your memories with her, and you breathe it in deeply, as you let your thoughts of her consume you.  

You really are feeling desperately needy, you’ve already been in this position once this morning.  

It’s not a hunger that’s ever infiltrated your body and mind quite so fervidly. You’re not a particularly clingy person, you’re not usually so obsessive, or lustful. You’re certainly hot-blooded, and you know how to enjoy yourself, but there’s never normally this type of craving in you for another person.  

Having your mind be so fanatical about someone else really isn’t something that’s ever overcome you quite so powerfully. It’s a rare sort of desire in you, that only she’s been able to spark, and it’s proving very difficult to satiate it.  

Your hand wanders slightly, as she takes over your head, the tips of your fingers trailing the waistband of your shorts, before the excessively loud opening and closing of the hotel room door, abruptly halts you from getting too invested in your fantasies.  

You turn your attention to your sister, removing your fingers with an unfortunate twang, as the elastic hits back down your skin, and you slowly free your face as she obliviously trudges across the room.  

You offer up an apologetic smile for abandoning her earlier, as she places her coffee on the table, and, with a piece of toast dangling from her mouth, she smiles back at you, the power of a full stomach seemingly diluting her previous feelings of anger.  

Her smile quickly contorts into a mischievous little grin, and there’s a glint in her eye, as she pounces on the bed.  

“Are you good?” You chuckle, as she rummages next to you, but she doesn’t gift you with any verbal reply. It’s your phone that she’s interested in, you realise, and you hold out your hand, for her to return it to you. “Behave.” You warn her, but she only giggles at the unlocked screen and shakes her head at you.  

“Do you have a new girl crush?” She mocks, goading you as she waves the device in front of your face. “Big into Alexia Putellas, are we?” 

“I was just ..familiarising myself.” You tell her, shuffling yourself a little, as a soft pink hue rushes to your cheeks.  

“Is that what you’re calling it?” She scoffs. “You know, I also tend to search for someone’s back tattoos when I’m trying to memorise their face!” 

“I was— I ..can I have my phone back, please?” You sigh, giving up on any attempt at trying to defend yourself.  

You don’t need to defend yourself to her. You like Alexia’s tattoos, and simply wanting to see them again, is merely an appreciation of art. That’s entirely innocent enough. It wasn’t a perverse search; it didn’t come from a sinful place.  

The fact that it immediately triggered flashbacks to you tracing over all of them with your lips, really wasn’t exactly your fault. It was unintentional, an almost reflex response from you.  

Letting yourself get mildly carried away with remembering how Alexia had kissed along your own body and how her lips had this wonderfully curious tendency of just always roaming down. The little knot that tied itself in your stomach, and your breath hitching as you relived the eye contact that she made with you before she had your back arching under her.  

That’s all a little less innocent, maybe, but it still wasn’t deliberate. It couldn’t be helped; it was just an automatic reimagining of events.  

You’re allowed to do that, they’re your memories. It’s entirely permissible for you to take a little journey through them every once in a while. It’s been over a month for you, and you have some overdue frustrations. That’s not a crime, you’re not a pervy creep.  

“You have a real thing for Spanish women at the minute, huh?” Em recognises, pulling you from your dirty thoughts again as she drops your phone down onto your stomach and takes another bite of her breakfast.  

“Mhmm. I quite like her tattoos.” You tell her casually, and she smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow.  

“Whenever you’re ready for me to do your next one, let me know!” 

“Mm.” You mumble, as you feel the ink on your rib cage begin to sear under her stare.  

You really do like tattoos, but there’s a reason that you only have the one on you. Your distinct lack of body art probably doesn’t seem like the greatest advertisement for your sister’s abilities, but it’s your own indecisiveness, and aversion to needles, that’s stopped you from getting too many, not her deficiency of talent. Maybe you’re a little bit squeamish, but it really did hurt.  

“You’re a big baby.” She laughs at you as you rub at the side of your body, trying to relieve the faint burning of your skin, and she claps the remnants of toast crumbs from her hands onto the floor, as she lays next to you. “What do you fancy doing today?” She asks you. “I’m sorry about the shit weather, that’s kinda fucked with your tanning plans.” 

“It’s not really your fault, but I was going to ask for your help, actually. If you’re feeling a little guilty?” 

“Oh?” She turns her head, furrowing her brow at you, her interest piqued, and you let out a sigh as you swallow your pride.  

“I was hoping, maybe you’d help me learn some football things.” 

“Football things?” She scoffs, but you don’t let her mockery deter you, as you nod at her decidedly.  

“Mhmm.” 

The back of Em’s hand very quickly finds itself pressed against your forehead with a quiet little smack, and you scrunch up your face in confusion as she frowns down at you.  

“What on earth are you doing?” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!” You sigh, pushing her arm away from you to stop her from checking your temperature. “I’d just like to know some things. Stop me from going into the match so blind.” 

She narrows her eyes, considering you for a moment. “What do you want to know?” She asks, and you wince at the freedom she’s granted you.  

“Just like ..players’ names, probably? I think that’d be helpful. Maybe some basic rules.” You shrug.  

She continues frowning at you, and you buckle a little under the intensity of her stare.  

“What?” 

“You’ve never cared before..” she reminds you, the suspicion in her eyes only increasing, as you release a small huff through your nose.  

“That’s not really true..” You try to start arguing, but it’s a completely pointless activity, you’re both far too aware that you’re completely lying.

Football has existed for your entire life, and you’ve been interested in it, a grand total, of zero times, before now. You find out that it’s Alexia’s favourite thing to do, and you suddenly want to know everything you can about it. It's entirely tragic of you, and it's too convoluted of a confession to share with your sister right now. She was useless enough when you admitted to a single kiss with another woman, trying to explain all of this mayhem would absolutely break her little brain.

“I’ve definitely cheered with you a couple of times!” You offer and she shakes her head, laughing loudly at you.  

“No no no!” She states. “Quietly saying ‘woo team’ when I tell you someone’s scored, is not cheering with me! I told you Rachel Daly scored once, and you still threw your fist in the air!” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“She plays for Aston Villa!” She points out, smacking your shoulder, and you let out another tiny huff. “I could tell you that Emma Hayes had scored, and you wouldn’t question it.” 

“Why would that be weird, is she the goalkeeper?” 

“For fuck’s sake!” She sighs, scraping her hands down over her face. “She’s the manager.” 

Yikes. You really are an idiot.   

“Well.. okay..” you wince, “and that’s why I need your help.”  

“Why does it matter?” She asks. “This’ll be the only match you ever watch.” 

“Maybe, but I quite like the woman who gave me that shirt.” You admit, gazing over at it as you play with the hem of the sweatshirt you’re wearing. “I don’t want to let her down by knowing nothing.” 

“Will she be there today?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Em contemplates for a moment, and you know that look in her eyes, she’s about to cave in. You sit up on the bed, readying yourself to deliver the final blow to her composure.  

“Please?” You say, pouting with a perfectly rehearsed, quivering bottom lip. 

“Nooo! Not the puppy dog eyes.” She groans, averting her gaze from you to try and stay strong. You don’t back down, and she lets out a pathetic cry of defeat when she catches your expression again.  

“There’s not much else for us to do until this rain stops.” You point out innocently.  

“That’s not true! There’s that aquarium you wanted to go to?” 

It’s a valid point from her, but rather incredibly, it’s no longer as appealing an option to you. You want to embrace football today. It’s important to Alexia, and she’s becoming important to you. As such, football ..is also important ..to ..well, no. Let’s not push it. She isn’t your girlfriend; you don’t need to be football’s number one fan just yet. Football will be tolerated by you, until further notice.  

You plead to your sister again, adding a small sniffle after your words for extra impact, and her resolve is positively crumbling in front of you.  

“You’re really serious, you want to learn about football?” 

“Mhmm!” You grin, excitedly crossing your legs, to fully show that you mean business. “Please!” 

“Fine.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes at your childish little excitement.  

“Thank you!” You grab her head to place a kiss to the top of it, and she quickly pushes you off of her. “I’d just like to know enough, though.” You clarify, before she starts getting too carried away with her lesson planning. “Just enough to stop me from looking like a fool.” 

“Well, steady on.” She snorts, with a roll of her eyes as she reaches for her sketch pad from the nightstand. “We’ve only got a day!” 

There’s a lot of information for you to learn it turns out, and you really hope Alexia’s worth all of this relentless studying you’ve subjected yourself to.  

It isn’t just her teammates that you end up memorising. Em also makes sure to teach you some footballing fundamentals, what ‘being offside’ really means, how the Champions League works, and she takes a great twisted pleasure in letting you know that tonight’s game of all games, could go to extra time and penalties, if no side is able to score more sodding goals than the other.  

You’re definitely being tested. 90 minutes is all that you signed up for when you agreed to watch the football, not a possible 120 with the looming threat of a penalty shootout attached to it. It’s entirely far too much. Why the hell is this Alexia’s favourite thing to do? Why are you still so into her? This is unbearable.  

It proves a little hard for you to keep concentrating on all of the facts that your sister keeps throwing at you, but she very quickly realises, that letting you watch some of Alexia’s highlights at irregular intervals, keeps you from getting too bored with everything else.

  

It quite amusing to you, to see Alexia wearing the captain’s armband, if you can believe. This nightclub nuisance, taking on a leadership role? That doesn’t seem right at all.  

Club captain, best on the team, best in the world? Turns out, it’s you that has the impeccable taste in women.  

She’s very sexy in her little football kit and watching her kick a ball around is surprisingly entertaining. She’s also very good, even you can see that, and the fact that she’ll occasionally lift her shirt when she’s a little frustrated with herself? Well, replaying that in slow motion is entirely fine and acceptable.  

There’s no real heterosexual explanation for your enjoyment of it, but you can pretend it’s merely an appreciation of fitness for you to keep pausing all of the videos and zooming in on her body.  

It’s not something that you ask to learn about, but Em can’t help mentioning all of Alexia’s achievements to you. It’s very fun to find out about everything, and there’s a genuine sense of pride in you for all of her plentiful accolades.  

It does feel a little misplaced, perhaps. You probably still don’t know her well enough to be just as proud of her as you are, you’ve certainly not known her long enough to be quite so pleased for her.  

It’s also slightly daunting, maybe, realising how decorated she is. Finding out about her FIFA’s best awards, the World Cup, her consecutive Ballon d’Ors.  

This is a very highly celebrated woman that you’ve been mingling with.   

She’s widely regarded as the greatest women’s player, of all time. It’s not just your sister that’s been saying it, Alexia’s been awarded for it, on the television, in front of the whole world. There’s a mural of her in Barcelona, a viewpoint that’s been named after her, and it turns out, that there’s a fairly huge amount of people that really enjoy calling her La bloody Reina. She’s revered by these people, almost worshipped.  

You’re not letting it get to you too much. Yes, she’s widely adored, she’s won pretty much every single award it’s possible for her to achieve, and she’s only just turned 30. She’s famous and well-loved and you’re just a little nobody from London, but you’re not letting that get to you too much.   

That probably wouldn’t be very wise. That would bring questions into your head, and make you start doubting yourself. That’s not a fun thing for you to do. Why would you do that?   

Don’t do that, you’ll start spiralling. It doesn’t take much to get you overthinking. You spent the past month questioning your sexuality because of one single night with another woman. Don’t let yourself worry about it, that won’t end very well for you. Don’t let her success in her career start clouding who she is to you. She’s still just the confusing lime woman, at the end of the day.   

Don’t start thinking of her as Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas. That’s putting her on a pedestal that you’ll never be able to reach her on up there. That’s very careless of you, to leave her up there on it without you sitting next to her, don’t do that. She’s just a woman. A very beautiful and successful woman. That’s fine, there’s lots of them about. Calm down.  

The rain finally relents a few hours before the big match, and while it doesn’t really grant you a huge amount of time to do anything too adventurous, it is a relief to realise that you won’t be getting completely drenched as you watch Alexia play.  

Em makes a rather hasty escape to the beach, as soon as the sun makes its long-awaited appearance. She hasn’t enjoyed your little study session quite as much as you have. You really just can’t win with this woman. She’s grumpy when you hate football, she’s grumpy when you’re a fan of it. She really just loves being grumpy with everything.  

Your constant refusal to be taught anything about the Chelsea players probably didn’t help you to keep her happy, though. Your insistence that Barcelona is the far superior team, didn’t go down very well with her either. Your new ‘girl crush’ on Alexia Putellas was something she began to find really irritating. You were almost actively trying to wind her up, actually. Maybe you did deserve her abandonment, looking back. You were lucky the rain kept her about for as long as it did.  

She didn’t ask if you wanted to join her at the beach, but you’d have decided to stay where you are anyway. Making sure you really have learnt enough for tonight, is your number one priority at the moment. Quizzing yourself and rewatching a few more compilation videos, is far more important to you than the city around you. The tan you actually came out to Spain for really is taking a hit today, but you can enjoy Barcelona a bit more tomorrow.  

You’re having a small dilemma in the hotel bathroom, as you’re getting yourself ready for the game. It’s an escalating concern for you, and one that your sister is growing increasingly frustrated with you for. You’re going to be late to the match if you don’t start getting a move on.       

Em barges into the bathroom, startling you as you study yourself in the mirror, and you narrow your eyes at her reflection as she stands in the doorway, staring at you.      

“What’s taking you so long?” She asks, with a very clear tone of exasperation.       

“I’m debating.” You tell her thoughtfully, ignoring her choice of intonation completely, by offering her an innocent little smile, as she lets out a very long and loud groan behind you.       

“Of course, you are.” She mutters, and she leans against the doorframe, preparing herself for you to begin your impending little spiel.       

“Right. So, I want to have the whole shirt on display.” You begin, gesturing down the front of your body and tapping your fingers to the lettering across your back.  

“Of course, you do.”      

“Right. So, I’m thinking, hair up,” you explain, demonstrating your vision as you carefully scrape your hair up into a ponytail, before narrowing your eyes at your sister again, to see if she can also see the problem with your plan, “buuut..”     

“Is that a love bite?!” She exclaims, rushing towards you and tugging at your shirt collar to examine the light bruising on your neck.       

“Ex-actly!” You sigh in defeat, letting your hair cascade back down as you grab your makeup bag again, to have another go at concealing the little gift that Alexia left on you yesterday. “I knew I hadn’t done a good enough job with it.”      

“How did you get a love bite?!” She asks, still clearly shocked by your rather tame, levels of promiscuity, as she pushes you away from her in disgust.   

“The usual way.”       

“A man sucked on your neck?”      

“Is that how you usually get your love bites?”       

She pulls an immature face at you and flips you off in the mirror. “I’m 24!” She says, indignant. “I haven’t had a love bite in years!”      

“Well, that’s very sad and tragic of you.” You tell her with a sympathetic pout. “I can only apologise that you’re so prudish and boring, I hope you’re able to recover from that soon!”      

“You’re in a very annoying mood.” She recognises with a sigh, frowning at your reflection as you carry on with your camouflage attempt. “We’ve only been here a day! I thought I was supposed to be the slutty sibling!”      

“You are the slutty sibling.” You remind her with a chuckle. “You were in a relationship just last week, and I’ve already had to make breakfast for three different girls since you broke up!”      

She smiles at you, very proudly, because she’s very very gross, and has absolutely no shame in it.       

“It’s no wonder you looked so happy last night, then.” She says, carefully inspecting your neck for you. “That’s covered it, you’re fine.”      

“Mm. Thank you very kindly!” You tell her, giving her a great big kiss on the cheek for her assistance, that she very quickly rubs back off again.       

“Be less annoying!” She begs.       

“I will not be making any promises!” You warn her, smiling widely as you tie your hair up and give yourself another once over. “How are we looking?” You ask, giving her a quick twirl.       

“Traitorous.” She grumbles.  

“Perfect!” You squeal, excitedly grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the hotel room with you.  

Your enthusiasm doesn’t die out at all, as you clamber into the taxi with your sister, and, as luck would have it, your driver is an even bigger culer than you are. You’re able to have a pretty in-depth conversation with him, what with all of the new knowledge that you’ve so recently acquired, and Em’s just ecstatic for the pair of you.

It isn’t a long drive from the hotel to the stadium, but you do clearly make quite the impression on the driver, as you end up having to reject, with as much politeness as possible, his invitation of a date for after the game.  

You’re really hoping to have other plans tonight, with some much-preferred female company.      

“He’s not ugly.” Em informs you quietly as you get out of the car, and she certainly isn’t wrong.  

‘Not ugly’ is just about as big a compliment as Em will ever give, regarding a man. So, you can rest assured that he is actually a very good-looking gentleman.  She narrows her eyes at you suspiciously as you close the door to the vehicle, and you furrow your brow back at her.  

“What?”     

“You can agree to go out with him tonight, you don’t need to look after me.”      

You shake your head at her, with a mild grimace, muttering out an ‘mm’, as your only offering of an explanation for your lack of interest in him. “No doubt you’ll be going home with someone else after the match?” You check, trying to switch the focus back to her.  

“Naturally.” She winks. “It’s been an unsuccessful holiday otherwise!”     

There's still an unfortunate level of determination in your sister to get you a date for tonight, and you have to really insist, that you simply don’t want the driver’s number. She eventually reluctantly agrees to let him take off, giving him an apologetic nod as he rolls up the window, and you give her an uncomfortable smile as she turns her attention back to you.  

“I really think you should be getting back on the horse.” She encourages, still eyeing you with suspicion as you start the short walk to the stadium. “You can’t waste your life pining after Jamie forever.”      

“I’m really not doing that.” You tell her with a sigh. “I just didn’t want to go out on a date with him.”      

“Do you already have plans with hickey-man?” She giggles.  

“Please don’t call them that,” you chuckle, “and no ..not technically.”      

“But that’s who you’re hoping to find again?”      

“Mhmm.” You mumble, trying to stifle the smile that’s pulling at your lips.  

“Is he nice?”      

“Mhmm.”      

“Is he attractive?”      

“Mhmm.”      

“Do you like him?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you.      

“..Mhmm.” You reply again, and your slightly nervous smile fully takes over your face.  

“Oh ..you really like him. After just one love bite?” She questions, narrowing her eyes at you again. “You don’t usually fall so quickly.” She tells you, and you can only shrug at the suggestive tone to her voice.      

“I don’t really know what you want me to say to that?”      

“I just ..want you to be careful.” She explains. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”      

“You were just trying to bag me a date with him?”      

“Yeah, but as a one-night thing.” She clarifies. “Falling in love with a random Spanish man isn’t the best way of getting over your ex.”      

“I’m not in love with them, and I’m not ..really still trying to get over Jamie.”      

“Hm. Good. He was a prat.” She reminds you with a rather disgusted looking frown at the memory of him.    

“Thanks, Em.”   

“Ugly cheating bast—”     

“Okay, Em. Enough.”     

“But he was an ugly cheating bas—“ 

“Enough!” 

“Sorry. He was a horrible dickhead, though.” 

“I know.” You sigh. “I get it, thanks.” 

“He still gets to you?” She realises, noticing that your hands have balled themselves into tight fists, and your stomach turns slightly as you shrug your shoulders at her.  

“A little.” You admit, as a less exciting reimagining of events begins to torment your brain. “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, only to find out he’d been sleeping around for two years.” 

“Two years?” She asks, eyes going wide, and you kick yourself for saying too much.  

“I thought I already told you that.” 

“No ..you told me he’d been with a few women. Two fucking years?” 

“Please don’t do the maths, you’ll hate him even more.” 

You attempt to walk away, already having had enough of the conversation, but you don’t get very far.  

“You are joking.” She says, grabbing your arm to stop your escape attempt. “He cheated on you, because Mum died?”      

“Not because Mum died, you idiot. Even he wouldn’t be that foul.”     

“But it’s linked?”     

“Enough, please.”   

“No. What the fuck, Y/N?”      

“That’s enough, okay. I just want to enjoy the match. We can talk about it later.”     

“We can talk about it now! I have the tickets,” she reminds you, with a very clear anger brewing in her, “you’re not getting in there without me! Why the fuck would he cheat on you aft—”     

“Because I didn’t really fancy having sex with him straight after.” You interrupt, in a hushed tone, trying to stop her from causing a scene. “I didn’t fancy having it for a while, he clearly had ..needs.”     

“Don’t justify it.”    

“I’m not ..but ..I understand why he did it. I practically pushed him into the arms of other women.”     

“That’s disgusting, Y/N. You can’t really be blaming yourself for it?”     

“Well ..I don’t know..” You mumble.   

“He cheated on you for two years, because you didn’t want to sleep with him for a bit, and you think that’s okay?”  

“That’s not what I said. I just ..get it.”   

You turn away from her again, to carry on with the walk and she hurries after to you to keep in step, not really content in letting this godforsaken conversation die out just yet.  

“That’s really the excuse he used?” She asks.   

“That’s why it started, apparently. There was obviously ..something else, for him to want to carry on doing it.” You admit, fidgeting with your fingers uncomfortably as you start thinking. “Maybe I was ..missing something that he liked or ..not doing something he wanted me to. I—” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “..it really doesn’t matter, okay? Please, that’s enough. I honestly haven’t been thinking about him, I don’t want to start again now.”     

“I’m sorry.” She tells you, with a clear look of remorse, and you give her a light nod with a tight-lipped smile in an attempt to ease her guilt.  

You carry on your walk for only a few paces before realising Em is no longer travelling with you, and you turn back to find her staring at her feet. “What are you doing?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers and thumb.  

She taps her toes to the ground a few times, before lifting her head and approaching you with a real sense of purpose. “Here,” she says, handing you a small piece of paper, “in case you can’t find hickey-man.” She tells you, and you do let yourself chuckle a little at Alexia’s unfortunate new nickname as you unfurl the note.     

“You got his number for me? I really don’t need this.” You sigh. You hold the paper out to return to her, but she pushes it back to you.   

“I think you do.” She tells you earnestly. “I don’t think it’s good for you to keep getting hung up on people. First Italian-man, now hickey-man. You were even working yourself up about one kiss with that Spanish woman.” She rolls her eyes at you, before giving you a sincere look of concern. “I know you fall hard, but you don’t usually fall fast. It's weird, and it’s not like you.” She explains, placing her hands on your arms, trying to get you to listen to her better. “I think you should have a proper meaningless night with someone.” She suggests with a shrug “He’s not ugly, and you’re not interested. That’s perfect one-night stand material! You're welcome!”     

“Fine ..thanks.” You mutter, giving her a little nod in defeat as you stare at the number in your hand.  

A meaningless night with a stranger really isn’t what you’re after, but you’re not about to fight her on it now. It’s not an ideal conversation to have just had, really. Your sister isn’t exactly calculated enough to have done it deliberately, she’s not trying to upset you because your footballing-happiness was winding her up too much.  

It’s frustrating from her, but she’s genuinely concerned about you, and maybe she has a reason to be. Maybe you have been ignoring some things about yourself, refusing to confront a few little issues that are bubbling under the surface.  

The ending of your relationship isn’t super ancient history, and you were with him for an unfortunately excessive amount of time. Meaningless hookups were exactly what you were preparing yourself for before Alexia ended up being your first one and ruining the rest of your plans.  

You do know that you’re not letting yourself get hung up over three separate people, though. Italian-man, hickey-man and Spanish-woman are all one person, and letting yourself get so hung up on Alexia as quickly as you are, is fine. Probably. That’s not really a cause for concern.  

Right? 

Of course, you’ve still spent less than 24 hours with her, there’s probably still lots of things you don’t know about each other. You have shared some pretty intimate details about yourselves together already, though, and she doesn’t feel like a rebound, as such. That would be grotesquely underselling the connection between you both.  

She is a woman, which is still new to you, and you really don’t usually fall so quickly for people. It took that bellend over six months to finally wear you down for a date. All Alexia needed to do was hold out a lime for you, to get herself wedged inside of your head.  

Don’t let yourself think about it too hard, you’ll do yourself a mischief. You’re just here to watch some football. You’re here to watch the girl you like, play a bit of football.  

Let’s not overthink, it isn’t good for you. It will only lead to questions and concerns, and that’s not what you need right now. Let’s have fun! 

The atmosphere around the stadium is quite the riot, and it’s very effective in distracting you. There’s flares being let off, the sound of trumpets and drums, there’s colourful smoke everywhere, the most enormous flags you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s like a little carnival, and it’s invigorating, letting yourself get swept up in the excitement of it all.  

You receive a tremendous amount of friendly looks, solely because of the badge over your heart and the name proudly on display on your back and noticing that your sister isn’t shown the same courtesy for wearing her Chelsea shirt, really only adds to your enjoyment of the occasion.  

Em drags you through the large flock of fans, trying to make sure that you don’t get separated from each other on your way into the stadium, and you keep offering up apologies on her behalf, as she carelessly mows people down for you. She is quite the woman on a mission.   

You opt to keep your head down, a little embarrassed by your sister’s rudeness, but even as you make an effort to avoid making eye contact with all of the disgruntled supporters that she keeps barging through, there is one thing that you do struggle to avoid seeing, with some of the Barcelona fans.    

An overwhelmingly impressive amount of them, also have ‘ALEXIA’ on their shirts.    

This doesn’t come as a complete shock to you. She is the best player on the team, after all. There is something about seeing her name plastered over quite so many strangers’ backs, however, that has sent your heart racing.    

This turnout of people is undoubtedly nothing compared to the millions of followers that you found out she has on Instagram yesterday, but it’s a very different feeling, seeing her fame condensed into a little figure on social media, than it is, to actually seeing so many of them in person. It’s much harder for you to ignore the countless amount of admirers that she has, when you keep physically bumping into all of them.   

“Are you good?” Em asks, as you find yourself frozen in the crowd, staring at the back of another person’s shirt.   

“Hm? Yeah, sorry.” You mutter, giving your head a shake, before letting yourself get dragged along again. “She’s very ..popular.”    

“Putellas?” She checks, and you can only nod back at her, still a little dumbfounded by it all. “Well, yeah. Obviously!” She snickers. “Come on!”   

Maybe it’s pride that you’re feeling. Knowing you’ve been spending a bit of time with someone so well-liked. That’s very nice for you, that’s entirely enjoyable and fun. It doesn’t need to be anything other than that. What good would that do for you?  

Perhaps there's a slight nervous tension in your stomach, at seeing her name absolutely everywhere. That’s probably understandable and fine. You knew she was famous, but that’s still a little confounding to actually play witness to. No one’s going to hold that against you, it’s okay to be a little overwhelmed by it all.   

It’s a new reality for you. It makes sense that that would be accompanied with a new feeling too. Anxiety isn’t something that’s really presented itself to you when thinking of Alexia before now. Of course it isn't, why would it have been?   

Picturing little scenarios with her in your mind was fun, it was silly. It didn’t really mean anything when you were never going to find her again. You didn’t need to go putting doubts about yourself in imaginary-Alexia’s head, that wouldn’t keep things very fun and silly at all.   

There are a few doubts about yourself in your own head now, perhaps. Seeing as you have found her again, you’re falling for her, and she’s clearly not the little nobody that you thought you’d entangled yourself with, but that’s probably fine. It’ll be a temporary thing. Let’s not worry about it right this second. Let’s just enjoy the game instead!  

It really isn’t wise for you to start stewing on things. You really will start spiralling.   

How could you not?   

If you start letting yourself think too hard about all the things that you were lacking, and what you simply couldn’t offer to keep a pathetic pig of a man satisfied, and you really start allowing yourself to question why you weren’t good enough for him, that isn’t going to put you in a very good mindset when seeing all these fans that Alexia has.   

Her supporters aren’t limited to just little kids or grown men. There’s a lot of women here, also sporting her name. It isn’t necessarily the case that all of these women are gay, that’s not really how watching women’s football works. She can have straight women being her fans too.   

Some of them are probably gay, though, aren’t they? Lots of the ones that are gay, with her name on them, might have a little crush on her. It’s very likely that absolutely none of them will have had to do research all day to make sure that they knew what was going on this evening. All of them will have already known everything. They’ll be genuinely into football, genuine fans of Alexia.   

Gorgeous, confidently gay, and really into football. Those are the women that surround you right now. That’s fine. What’s wrong with that?  

Why are you letting yourself worry? Why are you letting them get to you? Because they make more sense for her? Because they’re better for her? Because you’re not a fan of football?   

Alexia already knows that, she didn’t walk out on you because of it. 

She did giggle a few times at your idiocy, though, didn’t she? So, she probably did think you were a little foolish. She would presumably think it was a bit lame of you, to have spent quite so much time studying for a football match. Who else has ever had to do that? You really probably are the only one. That is a bit embarrassing. Quite pathetic of you.   

Damn.   

What a loser, you are.   

Shit.   

Maybe you should let it get to you. Maybe you’ve let yourself get carried away. Maybe you’re having a psychotic break. You’re letting yourself fall for a woman. A Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman who plays football professionally, for crying out loud! Look at all of these beautiful lesbian fans that she has here. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?   

You? A little nobody from London, who couldn’t even keep an ugly bastard of a man happy? If you weren’t even able to manage to do that, how could you possibly hope to be good enough, for two-time Ballon d’Or recipient, current Champions League and World Cup winner, Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas?   

That doesn’t seem very likely at all, does it? You being the soulmate of this ethereal goddess of a woman? Behave yourself. You really are delusional.   

Maybe that’s why she wanted you here, to laugh at you. Point and laugh at you with all of her football friends.   

Just go home now. Pretend that you’re ill. You do look a little ill. You’ve let yourself spiral, haven’t you? I did warn you about doing that. Now look at the state of you. This is very tragic.  

 

“Mate, what are you doing?” Em asks, as you once again find yourself paralysed, staring at yet another stranger’s shirt.    

“I just ..I don’t feel well.” You mumble.    

“Noo. Please don’t do that!” She begs, all too aware of what your next statement is going to be. “We’re here now!” She reminds you, bouncing on her toes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up that wanker, but please, we can still enjoy this together. You’ve been so excited about it all day.” She gives you a very sad pout, lightly pulling on your arm, trying to encourage you to keep following her.   

You really have been excited all day. It would be a shame to let your intrusive thoughts ruin it for you. You don’t want to let that bastard keep dictating all of the fun you’re allowed to have. You’re just here to enjoy some football.  

Woo!  

“Sorry. I just—” You pause, giving your head another shake as you try to catch your breath. “She’s just ..very popular.” You reiterate, gesturing to the stranger’s back with your thumb.   

“Did you think you’d be the only one here wearing her name?” She snorts. “I told you the woman who gave it to you was basic.”  

Your mind is still racing a little as you follow your sister out towards the stands. The atmosphere is even more intense inside of the stadium, and you try to let yourself embrace it all again, but it is mildly dizzying this time around.  

Em has nabbed you some pretty decent seats to be fair to her, though. One thing about your sister, she is absolutely going to treat herself and overspend on her interests without a care in the world. It’s something you often advise against her doing, it's not the wisest thing for her to do with her money. You couldn’t really be more grateful for it right now, though, when you’re practically sitting front row.  

Both teams are still out warming up, and you let your eyes roam the Barcelona side for a moment. You finally notice Alexia amongst all of the chaos, and you immediately stop noticing anything else. Your mind goes completely blank, just at the mere sight of her.  

She really does calm you right down, truly nothing else matters when she’s around you. That’s really very lovely. It’s a good thing you don’t live in two separate countries from each other. Imagine the way your mind would implode if you couldn’t just look at her all the time to stop your mental deterioration.. 

You watch Alexia, as she completes her runs, does some drills, begins to stretch. It’s like she’s the only one out there on the field, working in slow motion, putting on a show, just for you. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be as sexy as it is, she’s literally just warming up, but you find yourself, jaw clenched, as you observe her movements.   

She pauses for a drink break, and you remain mesmerised as she squeezes a jet of water into her mouth and pours a little extra over her face. You bite down on your bottom lip as you follow the beads of liquid rolling down her neck, slowly travelling under her shirt, and your breath hitches, as you allow yourself to remember exactly what it is that she’s concealing under her shirt. You can picture that body perfectly; you’ve thought of little else aside from it for over a month.  

She’s all hot, and sweaty, and— please! Pull yourself together! You’re in public, and you’re practically drooling. Do you remember when you were straight? Straight straight straight. Try channeling a bit more of that, perhaps. You’ll be an absolute puddle right there in your seat, otherwise.  

“There’s your one.” Your sister reminds you, making you jump as she nudges you and gestures down across to the pitch, once again pulling you away from your redacted thoughts.   

“Oh yeah! Thanks.” You tell her, feigning surprise, as you hide the small smile on your face, and swallow down on your arousal. You subtly wipe at the corners of your mouth with the back of your finger, just in case a bit of drool really had started falling, and you nod to your sister in acknowledgment. “She really is quite ..pretty.” You say pointedly, paying close attention to your sister’s thoughts and feelings on the matter.   

It probably wouldn’t be ideal if your sister showed an interest. She has a rather troubling talent with the ladies, and you’re not too sure you’d rate your chances going up against her, where another woman’s concerned.  

It really isn’t something you’ve ever had to think about before. There was never any chance of you two being into the same person until Alexia flicked a switch inside of your head. It was only a joke when she mentioned it in the café, but you can’t pretend it hasn’t niggled in the back of your mind a little.  

If you do end up introducing them, and they really hit it off? They almost certainly have more in common than you and Alexia do. They could talk for days about football together; they both have multiple tattoos where you only have a single measly little thing on your ribs. They’re both definitely gay, which is far more than you can say about yourself.  

That’s three strikes right there, isn’t it? That’s not very good.  

That’s all you get.  

You’re already out of the race.  

You’ll introduce them, they’ll fall in love, get married, have kids, and you’re left pining after your sister’s wife for the rest of eternity. Even the sweet release of death wouldn’t save you from a heartache that powerful. That’s an eternal pain. It’s permanent, infinite. A truly deathless agony that’ll haunt you till the very end of time itself.  

Good grief! 

What’s going on with you? You’re being very dramatic and sad suddenly. This really isn’t like you. You’ve only met this woman twice. Snap out of it! 

“Sure, I guess.” Em shrugs, not at all taken in by Alexia’s beauty. She really does have very questionable taste in women. You really should have known that already, that isn’t new information to you. You desperately need to calm down, you’re getting yourself into a really bad place.  

“Which one’s that?” She asks you, testing your knowledge as she points to another player on the field.   

“Ona Batlle.” You tell her confidently, shaking your worries from your head as you try to focus on what really matters right now. “Defender. Used to play for United.”  

“Very good,” she commends, genuinely quite impressed with the results of your last-minute cramming, “and that?”  

“María León. Mapi. Also, a defender. Didn’t go to the World Cup.”  

“Mhmm! And that?”  

“Not a bloody clue!”  

“For fuck’s sake.” She grumbles.   

“What? She’s one of yours,” you point out, grinning, “I don’t give a shit about the Chelsea players!”  

“You really are a twat.” She tells you, smacking your shoulder, before she crosses her arms and leans back into her seat. “Do you remember how the game works?” She asks you, rather condescendingly. “Do you need me to go through it all again for you?”  

“No, thank you.” You reassure her, innocently. “I think I’ve got it all memorised ..it’s just the best of three sets in the women’s game, right?”  

“Twat.” Em calls you again, and you chuckle to yourself, relaxing back down into your own seat, entirely satisfied with just how incredibly easy she is to wind up.  

You return your attention back to Alexia’s warmup routine, making sure to not keep letting your mind run wild with more dirty thoughts. It has been over a month for you, but even your sister’s showing a bit more decorum with her ogling of Sam Kerr. You really can control yourself better than this, you are not an animal.  

Alexia pauses her drills to have another sexy little drink, and you notice her surveying the crowd as she downs her water. She does a very careful examination of the away section, and she stops to stare, as soon as she finds you.  

You’re once again the only two people in the whole vicinity, as her eyes meet yours, and a bashful smile takes over her face.  

Whatever concerns you might be battling with, you can definitely be certain, that this woman wants you here today, and she isn’t at all discreet about how happy she is to see that you’ve come, and that you’re wearing her shirt.  

She mouths a little ‘hi’ to you, and it’s impossible for you not to smile at her, when your heart’s jumping up inside of your chest. You mouth back a ‘hi’ followed by a ‘wow’, with a slight wince, as you dramatically flit your eyes around your surroundings, and she bites at her lip, with a clear sense of awkwardness.  

‘I’m sorry.’ She tells you silently, but you shake your head at her with a furrowed brow.  

‘Don’t be daft, good luck!’ you offer with a smile, and a subtle thumbs up. You tap proudly at the badge on your chest, and Alexia’s smile only grows as she watches you.  

She responds with a nod, a ‘gracias’ and her own thumbs up, which clearly wasn’t as subtle as yours, as it didn’t go unnoticed by your sister.  

“Was that directed at you?” She asks, squinting at Alexia as she moves with the other players down towards the tunnel.   

“Hm? Looked like that, didn’t it?” 

“That’s quite cool.” She acknowledges. “She’ll probably think you got lost on the way in, sitting here with us. You don’t exactly blend in!”  

“No, that’s true.” You chuckle, tapping your hands down the red stripes on your torso. “Maybe she just felt bad for me, stuck here with you losers.”  

“Mm.” She grumbles, pulling a face at you. “That’s Sam Kerr!” She informs you excitedly, quickly moving on from your interaction, and focusing back on who she deems to be, the more important star of this evening’s show.   

“I know who Sam Kerr is,” you sigh, “I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen her poster on your wall.”  

“Mmmmmm.” She hums, gazing very dreamily at the striker as she makes her own way off of the pitch.   

“Oh, please.” You start, rolling your eyes at the state that she’s getting herself into. “Have some self-control, Em, we’re in public!”  

You really are a shameless little hypocrite.

  

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as the teams return to the pitch, and the Champions League anthem rings out around the stadium. You can feel the excitement really getting to you, as the hairs on your arms stand up on end.  

It’s very overwhelming. You couldn’t have cared less about this match yesterday morning, and now it’s the most important thing in the world to you.  

All for a girl, what has gotten into you?  

The game is highly contested right from the first whistle. With the first leg ending in a 0-0 draw, neither team is able to rely on aggregate to get themselves through, and you can feel the pressure that the players are under.  

Both sides are naturally desperate to win, though expectation is slightly higher for Barcelona, seeing as they won the whole thing last season.   

There’s a very mild sense of nervousness in you about the result. You’re not really sure how you’d go about consoling someone after a huge sporting defeat. You’ve never been very good at comforting Em when a football score has left her upset, and it’s probably far worse when you’re actually on the team that’s lost, and not just watching it through the television.  

You know exactly how Alexia would be able to cheer you up, and you’d be more than willing to try the same technique with her. She might not be as horned up as you clearly are, though. You may very well need to start drafting a proper commiserative speech for her, if the game does start running away from them. Sexual favours may simply not be enough.  

You do take some comfort in the fact that Barcelona haven’t lost to Chelsea before, and while you appreciate that nothing’s guaranteed in sports, Alexia’s very good, and you know for a fact that the rest of her teammates really aren’t too shabby either. There’s a reason that they’ve won this whole thing twice, and you’re letting the knowledge of that keep you from getting too worked up about it.  

Alexia’s the best in the world, and no best in the world is losing to bloody Chelsea, not today.  

Alexia’s incredible for you to watch when she plays, even when she only has possession for a second. She’s just a wizard on the ball, the way she reads the game so easily, how she seems to predict everyone’s movements. She’s always in control, unwaveringly calm, deliberate in her choices.  

She almost dances with the ball, and it’s impossible to deny how unbelievably gifted she is, as she weaves around her opponents. She has a very distinctive flair, for making it all look so effortless. It’s just incredibly sexy of her, and you find yourself wiping at the corners of your mouth again as you watch on, just in case.   

It’s not a skill that you’ve ever really appreciated in a person before. You’ve had boyfriends that played football in school, you watched your sister plenty of times when she was little, but you never really focused on them while they were actually playing.  

You’d cheer at the right moments, making the correct noises when you needed to, just following the rest of the crowd’s lead, mainly. You found it all a bit boring, really, it didn’t mean anything to you.   

Now, Alexia’s only casually passing the ball between herself and a few of her teammates, and you’re absolutely entranced by her, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather be watching. There’s a glow to her as she plays. She’s enthralling, captivating. You might be her number one fan.  

The match aside from Alexia’s performance, is far more tense than you’d care to admit. Both teams have plenty of attempts on goal, neither of them score. Every missed shot from Barcelona has you cursing under your breath, and every near goal from Chelsea has you covering your eyes like a child. It’s a little unbearable, you absolutely love it. It’s what sport’s all about.   

It’s a very unexpected reaction from you. The way your heart’s started palpitating, the slight tightness in your shoulders whenever a Chelsea player’s on the ball, the elation shooting through you every time Barcelona regains possession. It’s the skin around the nail of your thumb that suffers the most under your passion, as you nibble at it relentlessly, watching everything unfold with a high degree of intensity.   

You keep knocking your sister every time Alexia gets close to scoring, gripping at Em’s sleeve and tugging at her in anticipation. It’s hard to tell if it’s an excitable twitch, or if it’s stress-tapping of your foot, but every nerve in your body is on fire as you watch Alexia in her element. Em still can’t really understand your newly established avidity for the game, but she continually embraces it all with a light chuckle as she keeps telling you to “please, calm down.”   

The whistle blows for halftime and it’s still level at 0-0. You can barely contain yourself, letting out a huge breath that you weren’t fully aware you’d been holding in.   

“I can’t survive another half like that!” You warn Em, bashing your head against her shoulder. “I need a goal. Just one goal!” Your legs are bobbing up and down, as the adrenaline in you tries to find a way of escaping your body, and she rests her hand over them to calm you down.  

“Do you need a wee?” She asks, a little concerned at the mess you’re turning into, and you shake your head with a laugh.   

“No, I’m good, thanks! I just ..really want them to win.”  

“You’re really into it, aren’t you?” She chuckles.  

“Mhmm. Thank you for bringing me here.”  

“You’re welcome! I’m glad you decided to stay.” She tells you, with a proud smile on her face at finally winning you over on her favourite interest. “It’s a shame you’re rooting for the dark side, though. It’s weird that this is the team that speaks to you.”  

“Mm. I’m sorry about that.” You offer half-heartedly, pulling at the badge on your shirt to give it a kiss.  

“You’re such a traitor,” she tells you with a flick to your forehead, “Dad will be disgusted when I tell him.” 

 

The second half starts, and it’s much the same as the first. There’s more near misses, a few choice attempts on goal, and the game starts getting far sloppier as both sides get more desperate to score. There are some pretty ugly fouls, resulting in a few yellow cards being issued to both teams, and you’re suddenly far less concerned with winning, and far more worried about Alexia just making it out in one piece.  

“It’s quite brutal!” You point out to your sister, flinching as another Chelsea player goes tumbling to the ground.  

“Mm. You think she’d be more careful.” She tells you. She taps at the number on your shirt, and it sends an instant chill racing up the back of your neck.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, biting down hard on your thumb as you await her response.  

“She tore her ACL a couple years back, took her out of the Euros. She hardly played at all last season.” 

“Tore her ACL?” You ask, exhaling slowly as you make the connection in your head. “Would that be her knee?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Shit.” Drops out of your mouth, as you bite your thumb a little too deeply, and you try to shake the stinging from your hand.  

It makes sense, that Em would choose to withhold this little titbit of information from you, you really are quite squeamish. If you’d known this game could turn into such a bloodbath, you’d have probably elected to stay home. 

Alexia had played it coy, when you traced your fingers over her scars that night. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with you asking her about them, but it still wasn’t something she was going to get into with you. You weren’t going to force the issue too hard, you’re not an idiot, but it had certainly piqued your interest. She really wasn’t forthcoming with any information about herself, and it quickly became apparent how talented she was at deflecting from your queries.  

It stopped being at the forefront of your mind completely, when she was otherwise so distracting with it. Her scars didn’t inhibit her at all when she was pressing her knee against you. It felt good, she seemed fine, who were you to question? 

“Should she be playing at all?” You ask flicking your thumb against your finger to try and weaken the pain shooting through it.  

“Sure! Lots of them do, you just think it’d freak ‘em out a bit more.” She tells you. “It’s amazing she still throws herself into it as much as she does, really.” 

“You don’t become the best by tapping out.” You recognise, and she excitedly nods her head at you.  

“No, exactly! Sometimes it happens again, though. Can be the exact same rupture, different tear, same leg. A few players have it happen to their other leg..” Em continues to give you a very unhelpful rundown of just how common this career-jeopardising injury seems to be, and an uncomfortable lump forms in your throat as she goes a little too deep into all of the details with it. “Are you okay?” She asks, cutting herself off at your obvious discomfort at her lecture, and she gently taps at your shoulder. “You’ve gone quite pale.” 

“I don’t like seeing people get hurt, you know that.” 

“She’ll be alright.” She reassures you, gesturing to the Chelsea player as she pulls herself back to her feet. “It’s just when a player gets stretchered off, really. That’s when you properly worry about them.” 

You suddenly find yourself, very stressed. 

It immediately feels like Alexia, in particular, has a target on her back as the game continues. Every time she gets on the ball, a Chelsea player comes flying in, rather aggressively, trying to win it back off of her. It’s a very violent onslaught, and it’s not one that you’re keen on watching.   

She spends most of the second half having to drag herself back to her feet, and you no longer feel like you can just blame it on the slightly wet grass, when there’s a menacing little Chelsea player hovering ominously over her every time she goes down to the ground.  

The game is still level as the clock starts running down the final few minutes, but any sense of relief that this torture is almost over, is immediately extinguished, as you remember that this specific game would have to go to extra time, and then penalties, if no one’s able to break the deadlock.   

Penalty shootouts, on their own, are usually just about the only thing you can tolerate in football, when you’re a neutral with zero stakes. It sounds like a nightmare now, however. Especially as it means you’d have to endure 30 extra minutes of the Chelsea players’ assault on Alexia.   

You really can’t take it. Your heart’s started thumping. You have a headache forming. Your fingers have turned to ice.  

You’re out of your seat as Alexia makes a beeline for the goal in the 87th minute. It’s an incredible scoring opportunity, she can’t miss.   

A Chelsea defender appears to the side of her, as if from nowhere as Alexia lines up her shot, and she’s brutally slid into, just outside of the area.   

You can hear the collision as it happens, it almost reverberates throughout the whole stadium. Life in the arena comes to a complete standstill, as everyone just watches it all unfold.   

Alexia goes down, and the world stops spinning, your heart stops beating, and time stands still.   

She stays down, and your body goes rigid, your blood runs cold, and you want to be sick.  

Get up. Please get up.  

Your sister grips on to your arm trying to comfort you, trying to tell you that it probably isn’t as bad as it looked, but your eyes don’t move from where Alexia lies on the floor, clutching her knee.   

Medics are rushed onto the pitch with a stretcher in hand, and you remain frozen in place.   

Please get up. Just get up.  

The defender is back on her feet only a minute after the tackle, and she’s shown a yellow card for her foul. You want to throttle the referee right there and then.  

“It should be a straight fucking red!” You shout, as you grip your hands together on the top of your head, trying to distract yourself from the burning in your eyes, and the new quiet ringing that’s started in your ears.   

You receive a couple of snide looks from the supporters surrounding you for your little outburst, and you can hear a few less-than-friendly words being bellowed out at you, but frankly, you don’t give a fuck.  

Just get up. Get up and walk off if you have to. Just get. up.  

You want to jump over the seats. Push every annoying, arsehole supporter in a Chelsea shirt right out of your way and invade the pitch to be with her. Your body’s screaming out at you to do something, anything, and you can’t. You’re useless to her.   

Just get up.  

Alexia looks to be in agony on the ground. A few of the Barcelona players are swarming the referee for her blatant incompetence. Even the other Chelsea players are a little amazed that they’ve gotten away with it, without going a player down.   

It was a dirty foul. Out of character, according to your sister. You don’t care. It could’ve been a complete accident by her, and you’re not fussed. It was reckless, it was filthy, and she should be off that goddamn pitch with some level of suspension at least.  

Get up. Please.  

Em tries to pull you back into your seat and you still don’t budge. You stand where you are, watching the small crowd on the pitch, as it slowly blocks Alexia from your view. You bite at the skin on your thumb, willing yourself to stay calm, willing Alexia to just get the fuck up.   

It feels like a lifetime waiting for things to happen, for any sign of development from the scene on the ground. You ultimately collapse back down into your chair, trying to catch your breath, trying to stop the world from swirling around you, trying to stop your brain from assuming the worst. You close your eyes, holding your face in your hands, blocking it all out.  

Get. Up.   

This isn’t really what you signed up for, is it? You wanted to watch the girl you like, play a little game of football. Possibly celebrate her winning, with some adult-fun-time. Not find out that she’s fairly recently had such a serious injury, and then watch her go crashing down to the ground, holding that specific body part. You can’t do anything about it. You can’t help. You’re stuck in place, watching it all happen right in front of you.  

This is torture. Maybe this is why you never let yourself get into football. Who is this fun for exactly? What’s the point in it all?  

What an unbelievably useless waste of your time. You were already in a bad enough place before the game kicked off and distracted you from it. Now it’s made it worse. This is terrible. You really should have just stayed home. Imagine coming all the way out to Spain and making yourself bloody ill with it. Jesus Christ.  

Please. Get up.  

After what feels like hours, the medics do start slowly dissipating and there’s a cautious ripple of applause around the stadium, because Alexia has gotten up, but not of her own accord. She’s being flanked by Mapi and Asisat, and she looks very unstable.  

They carefully remove themselves from under her arms, and she’s not very well balanced at all. She’s reluctant to put too much weight on her leg, she’s limping, and she’s still gripping onto Mapi for dear life, but she's not being stretchered off. She’s up, and you can breathe again.   

You watch on as she tests her strength, steadily gaining confidence that her knee isn’t going to give way beneath her, and she puts her hand up to Jonatan to indicate that she will not be getting subbed off. She gives her body a shake, looks over in your direction, and she nods to herself with a reinvigorated sense of determination.   

You don’t know if you’re completely turned on by her bold display of bravery, or if you want to give her a slap for being quite so carelessly audacious. She doesn’t need to play the hero; you’d rather she just sat it out.  

“What is she doing?” You mutter under your breath, shaking your head as Alexia waits to be let back into the game.  

“You don’t become the best by tapping out!” Em reminds you, with a smile, patting your shoulder reassuringly. Her entire demeanour is in stark contrast to the one that you’re currently displaying, and as comforting as she’s trying to be by rubbing at your arm, it isn’t very effective. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “You look really unwell.”  

“Mhmm.” Is all you’re able to mumble out, as your eyes lock onto Alexia on the sidelines.  

The free kick awarded for the foul is saved, and Alexia’s back on the pitch for the corner. You want to stop her. You want to swear at her. You can’t handle it. You need a drink.   

You grab at the neckline of your shirt and pull it up over the bottom half of your face. You’re very very stressed. Even the familiar smell of her on your top isn’t doing much to comfort you. She’s an idiot. She’s so unbelievably stupid. What the fuck?  

You watch the corner kick, as the ball goes sailing over the heads of everyone, before it connects with Alexia’s forehead and skims past the tips of the keeper’s fingers.   

The stadium erupts around you, and you’re back up off of your seat, letting out your own roar in celebration. Your eyes are absolutely stinging with tears, as you hold your forehead against your hands, and there’s more than a few snide looks at you from the supporters you’re buried in, given your lack of propriety about the situation.  

You’re getting called every colourful derogatory term under the sun for your rather ungodly little cheer, and still, you couldn’t care less. You let out a few huge breaths, trying to steady yourself, and despite her team now trailing in the final minutes, Em wraps her arms around you, giving you a shake, as she tries to get you to properly enjoy the moment.  

Alexia points up to the sky in celebration, and you can hear her name being gradually chanted around the stands. It catches in your ear, echoing in a crescendoing drone. It’s deafening, unrelenting, and you try to shake it back out of your head before it really starts getting too much for you.  

You know that there’s going to be a fair few minutes of added time with how many fouls the second half has had and given how long Alexia was just down for especially, but you can see how the life’s just been completely zapped from the Chelsea side. They’re not equalising today; the game is done.   

The whistle blows for full time at 1-0 and you finally slump back down into your seat. The stadium is going absolutely wild around you, and you just close your eyes to it, waiting for it all to die down.  

You can hear your sister trying to pull you out of your head, but you press your palms against your eyelids, trying to block everything out. Your body’s racking itself. There’s a sharp shortness to your breath, an uneven rapidity to your heartbeat. Your head’s burning up, and your eyes are stinging.  

You’re not really cut out for this, are you? It’s all gotten a bit much. You really are spiralling, look at the state of you. All this, because of one unfortunate, mistimed tackle? Because there’s a few extra people here that know Alexia’s name?   

Barcelona just won, Alexia just scored the winning goal, and you’re collapsing in on yourself. 

What would you have been like if they had just lost? If Alexia had been genuinely hurt? Not much good, clearly. Not very helpful.  

Alexia deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t go into a panic in the stands whenever she hits the deck. Someone who isn’t unnerved by her celebrity status. Maybe someone, who isn’t questioning her identity, at the ripe old age, of 26.  

She deserves someone, who very much, isn’t you. 

It takes a few minutes for you to come back around, pulling yourself from your oppressive thoughts, and you can see colourful stars in your eyes as you finally relieve the pressure you were forcing against them. Em offers you some water, and you down it while she stares at you, her brow wrinkled with worry.   

“Are you okay?”  

“Mhmm. I’m fine, sorry.”  

“You won!” She points out, with a cautious optimism, smiling at you as she chuckles softly. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not ..whatever the hell this is.”  

“I’m really sorry, I just ..I don’t like people getting hurt.”  

“You wouldn’t have had to go to a hospital with her, it’s alright.”  

“Mm.”  

She gives you a hug, which lasts a suspiciously long time for her, and you can feel her jaw moving against your shoulder as she lifts her head slightly.  

“Are you okay?” You ask, frowning as you push her away from you.   

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, not moving her eyes away from whatever it is that she’s seen behind you. “Are you definitely fine?” She checks again, with a mild desperation to her voice.  

“..Yes?” You reassure her, turning around in your seat to try and follow her gaze.  

“I’ll see you in the morning, then!” She tells you hastily, and she nudges your arm, before tossing your sweatshirt from her bag at you, and straightening herself up.  

“Wait, what?” You question, rather baffled by her quick switch in focus. “Where are you going tonight?”  

Em just directs your vision up a few rows of seats, to a red-headed woman who has very clearly taken her fancy. They’ve been making googly-eyes at each other all match apparently. Since you wound your sister up earlier, with your unwavering new support for the enemy, and Chelsea have just crashed out of the Champions League again, she’s going home with her tonight, to drown her sorrows.   

She really does have an incredible success rate with the ladies, at least you won’t have to make breakfast for this one in the morning.  

 

“You’re off, just like that?” You ask.   

“We can hang out again tomorrow?”  

“Aw, I appreciate that, Em. Thanks!” 

She chuckles at you, bouncing on her toes. “Ring taxi-man.” She advises you with a wink. “Or try to find your mysterious hickey-man, again! You deserve to have fun tonight. Celebrate the win properly! Get yourself another love bite!”  

“Mm.” You mutter, and she crouches down in front of you again.  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “I can stay with you, if you want?”  

“Hm? No, don’t be daft. It’s fine, really.  Thanks. Go, have fun.”  

She doesn’t hang around long enough for you to change your mind. She gives you a far quicker hug than the previous one, patting you on the head, before running off and introducing herself to her new friend at the steps. They both cast you a quick wave, which you return a little awkwardly, before they walk up towards the exit. Just as easy as that.  

“Be safe!” You call out to them behind you, as you turn your attention back to the celebrations on the pitch.  

It takes a long while for the atmosphere in the stadium to really start fizzling out, and there’s still a distinct little hum of excitement that rattles through it, as the crowd dwindles, and the players continue making their way around the grounds.   

Alexia grins up at you as she passes by your section, and you can only manage to give her a weak smile in return as you pat your leg at her with a questioning look. She smacks her knee a couple of times, smiling with a dramatic roll of her eyes, and she gives you a thumbs up to signal to you that she really is okay. She isn’t limping anymore as she heads over towards the fans, so you could almost pretend it hadn’t happened at all, if it hadn’t been quite so mentally draining.   

A fair amount of supporters still line the barriers, holding out shirts and signs, and just about anything else that they can get a player’s autograph scrawled onto. Most of them are shouting for Alexia’s attention, and her popularity and fame is still quite an overwhelming thing for you to take in.  

She doesn’t miss any of them, they all get their moment with her. She makes sure everyone gets seen too, everything gets signed. She doesn’t rush a single encounter, and you don’t miss the way people’s faces keep lighting up whenever she approaches them.  

It’s very hard not to keep falling for her, watching her interact with people, the way that she is with them. She’s just good. She’s good at what she does, she's good with her fans, she’s a good person.   

You’re biting at your thumb again.  

The knuckles on your other hand, turning white, with the vice-like grip that you have on her sweatshirt. Your legs are bobbing, and you can feel your fingers freezing up. There’s a lot of combatting emotions fighting for dominance in your head, and you’re very unsure of yourself.  

The Chelsea fans were in far less of a partying mood, clearly, as you find yourself the only one left in the away section. You watch Alexia converse with the ever-diminishing crowd for a moment longer, before deciding, maybe it’s time for you to go, too.  

This isn’t your world; you don’t belong in it. It’s been a fun time with her, and there’s definitely a something between you, that’s been nice to explore, but there’s clearly been some sort of mistake. A divine, serendipitous little mix-up. She can’t be the one for you, as you’re really not the right one for her. It’s okay for this to be it, it’s okay for you to go.  

You walk down to the barrier and carefully rest her sweatshirt over it. You can’t really also leave her football shirt behind with it, but she’s probably not desperate for that back. She’ll have loads of them lying about, there’s probably another one waiting in her training bag, ready for her to give to someone else.  

You pat at the sweatshirt a few times, debating with yourself, and you look back up across the pitch to where Alexia is still signing shirts. She almost certainly does deserve someone better than you but abandoning her is still quite a harsh thing for you to do, she definitely deserves better than that.  

You can’t just leave her and not give her a reason for it, that’s very cruel. She was excited to see you, she’ll be upset if you walk out on her.  

You crash your head down onto the sweatshirt trying to decide your next move, letting out a quiet groan as you draw a blank. She’s still preoccupied with her fans when you raise your head again, and you start pacing the length of the railing tapping the tips of your fingers together.  

You look back down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit. Down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit.  

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit.  

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. 

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. Exit. Exit.  

You find yourself stuck on the steps, only a second later, facing away from the pitch, without her sweatshirt in your hands. You’re really not sure what your plan is. 

You do still have that number in your pocket, you could always give him a call, he really was very good-looking, exactly your usual type. Tall, dark, handsome. Friendly. Very friendly. It’s classic to you, it’s easy. Maybe your sister’s right. You need to have a meaningless night with some random company that you just don’t give a shit about.   

You really just don’t want to go out with him, though. There’s a woman on the other side of the pitch that your heart’s still lunging out in the direction of, who still puts butterflies in your stomach every time she so much as looks at you.  

You don’t want to leave. You like this woman too much. There’s something real between you. Something strong.  

Maybe it’s too strong.  

It’s impossibly strong.  

It’s a delusional level of strong.  

You’re almost at the final step before the exit, when you hear a little whistle from behind you and it stops you in your tracks. Maybe it was that little bungee cord between you both, that alerted her to your leaving.  

It sends another chill coursing up the back of your neck, and there’s an instant blurring to your vision, as your eyes start welling up. 

“Y/N?” She calls up to you, with a small strain to her voice, and you flinch, your gaze dropping to the floor. Your jaw clenches, and you freeze in place, closing your eyes, in the hopes of just disappearing from right there in front of her.  

You can still go, just keep walking. It would still be very hard for her to find you. She doesn’t have your surname, or your address, she doesn’t know your phone number. 

You can get a clean break.  

Leave it as a solo night of fun. The meaningless distraction from him, that it was always supposed to have been. Stop letting yourself fall for her. Stop letting yourself care and worry, about a woman that you barely know. Go home. Behave. Find yourself a man and get on with your regular life.  

There’s another cautious whistle as you debate with yourself, and your heart aches, hearing it echo around you. You shift your body weight, awkwardly, from your toes to your heels, and back again, a fair few times. You drum your fingers against your thighs, over your stomach, and you look up at the sky, searching for an answer.  

You need someone to give you a push, give you a sign that you’re not making another mistake. You want your sister to come back and slap some sense into you. You want your mother to tell you what to do, she always did have the right answers.  

You gently tap your fingers to your face, trying to pull yourself back into your body, as you study the stars above you.  

There seems to be a definite twinkle to one of them, and you really don’t care if you’re just seeing things. You’re looking for an excuse, any excuse, and a slight flicker in the sky, is exactly what you needed. 

You straighten yourself up, before letting out a long breath with a small nod. You bounce on your toes, and you give your eyes a quick rub, before you ever so slowly, turn yourself back around.   

You might still be an idiot. A whole damn blasted fool.  

But she’s impossible for you to walk away from. That’s just not how it’s going to work with her. She already means too much, you’re already in too deep. She’s set up shop inside of your head, she’s already living inside of your heart. You couldn’t walk away from her, even if you wanted to. 

She has your heart skipping beats, whenever she says your name. She has the rest of existence fading into nothingness around you, when all she’s done is take your hand in hers. She sends goosebumps down your neck when she whispers to you, has you rolling your eyes with a chuckle, when she’s being a playful windup. Your mind starts spinning when she kisses you, and you feel safe when you’re resting in her arms.  

You had one of the best afternoons of your life yesterday, doing nothing, but spend a bit more time with her. Learning about her, laughing with her, kissing her. She’s put a burning inside of you, and a smile on your face. You spent the whole of last night, wide awake, because you couldn’t wait to see her again. She told you that she couldn’t wait to see you, either.  

This isn’t a solo night of fun, it’s not a meaningless distraction. It never really has been with her. It might very well be your person, that’s waiting for you down there, and you’d only stand to lose everything, if you walk away from her now.  

You draw in a breath and look down to the sidelines of the pitch. It’s the greatest women’s footballer in the world, that’s leaning up against the stands for you, and she’s hoping, that you’re not about to leave her, not without at least saying goodbye to her first.    

She looks very small when you see her. All the grandeur, and spectacle that shrouded her during the game, has been completely wiped once again. She’s just Alexia, Ale, A. She’s just a woman that you met in a nightclub, just a girl that you’ve been getting to know.  

There’s a very obvious sense of worry in her, it’s not a look that often spreads across her face. She shuffles herself, tapping her hands gently on the sweatshirt over the barrier as she tilts her head down towards the ground, and you steadily make your way back down the steps towards her.  

“Felicitats.” You offer weakly, and she smiles softly up at you.  

“Gràcies.”  

“Is your knee okay?” 

“Yes.”   

“Are you sure?”  

“Yes. I promise.”   

“It wasn’t a very friendly challenge.” You tell her, frowning at the tunnel that the Chelsea player made her escape from you down. “You gave me a fright, when you didn’t bounce straight back up. Are you definitely okay?”  

“Yes, I’m fine!” She insists. “Look!” She tells you, patting her knee a few more times, and kicking her leg out to show you that it hasn’t fallen off. You can’t not smile back at her when she’s being so very cute, even if she is incredibly stupid. “I promise you, it’s fine.” She repeats, and you just have to believe her.  

“You didn’t fancy telling me your big secret, yourself?” You call out, as you continue making your way towards the pitch, glancing around the stadium, before sliding your hands into your back pockets.   

“It didn’t feel ..that important,” is the excuse she gives to you, as she picks at the fabric in her hands, “the night that we first met.”  

“And yesterday?” You push, crinkling your brow up slightly. “Still not that important?”  

Her gaze drops to the ground as you wait on the bottom step, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth. “Are you angry with me?” She asks nervously, quietly tapping her hands with a bit more agitation, and not yet meeting your eyes.  

There’s a painful twinge in your heart as you watch her unfamiliar mannerisms, you much prefer when she’s being insufferably cocky and annoying. It’s far less painful, a lot more fun.  

You let out a breath, before closing the rest of the distance between you both, and you gently rest your hands on top of hers, to stop her little nervous drum solo. She still doesn’t lift her head to face you, and you take in a shaky breath, readying yourself.  

“Do I seem angry?” You ask her quietly, trying to encourage her to look at you, as you delicately draw shapes on the backs of her hands, to distract you both a little from the obvious tension.  

You don’t miss the goosebumps that quickly form up Alexia’s arms as you do, and there’s a feeling that jolts inside of you, knowing that you both have the exact same effect on each other, even with the most casual of touches.  

She lifts her eyes to study your face, and she shakes her head, as you smile softy back at her.  

“Well, there you go then!” You tell her with a light chuckle, placing a kiss to her forehead before resting yourself against the railing between you both, and she lets out a wobbly breath. “Of course I’m not angry with you ..I did feel a bit stupid last night, that I really didn’t know.” You explain. “..I feel a bit intimidated, now that I do.”  

“I’m still just me.” She reminds you quickly, and you can see the shimmer in her eyes, as she tries to keep herself from cracking.   

You can’t help narrowing your eyes at her little claim as she collapses her head down into you, nestling it in the crook of your neck. “They call you the bloody queen, Alexia.” You remind her, and she shakes her head against you.  

“I hate that title.” She confesses. “I promise you, I’m still just me.” 

 

It’s hard to deny her that. When all of the noise has died out, and it’s only the two of you left. She is just her, she’s just another woman. A woman who is very clearly worrying about you and your reaction to her career. She knows that she stands to lose you because of it, and it’s very obvious, as her tears pool on your skin, that that isn’t something she wants to happen.   

Despite it still being ridiculously early days between you both, this connection that you feel so strongly, may very well be reciprocated by her, and it would be a shame, for a bit of football, to stand in the way of it.  

It’s terrifying, knowing that she can get hurt. Realising that everything she’s worked so hard her whole life for, rests on a knife’s edge, every time she steps foot onto the pitch. It isn’t easy, being made aware of how common of an injury it is, and how there’s no way of protecting her from it.   

If she’s going to get injured again, that’s just a harsh reality of football, and that’s a very difficult pill for you to swallow. It’s not a risk that you can stop her from taking, either. This is her dream, and you’d just have to support her through it. The good, and the bad.  

It’s also a little disconcerting, knowing how adored she is. The fact that she’s quite a bit famous, especially in this city, if nothing else. As much as you don’t want to let it seep into your mind, and affect your thoughts about Alexia too deeply, it’s impossible for it not to have altered things for you slightly.  

You’re only human, and you weren’t really fully prepped, on what her celebrity actually entailed. She was just another regular person to you yesterday, but in reality, she is clearly very far from that, and it’s a little unfair that she wasn’t the one to break the news to you. To give you some sort of heads up, before throwing you in at the deep end today.  

But ..you really were having fun, before it all went south. You were excited, you were proud, you were enjoying a football match. She does things to you. She brings out a side of yourself that you’ve never explored before, a side that’s laid dormant, for your entire life. She’s incredible, in ways that largely transcend her achievements on the pitch.   

Alexia’s never made you doubt yourself. She’s never given you any reason to question her interest in you, that’s one thing that she’s never been secretive about.  

She doesn’t know what you do for a living, but she probably correctly assumes that you’re not famous, and that hasn’t put her off at all. She doesn’t think she’s too good for you, she hasn’t treated you like you’re beneath her.  

Her fame doesn’t follow her everywhere, you were able to be completely oblivious to it, before your sister told you about it. It’s not debilitating, it doesn’t stop you from having moments together. It’s something you might have to get used to. Find a way of understanding it, learn how to cope with it. Especially on match days, when you really can’t ignore the actual magnitude of it. That wouldn’t be impossible for you to do.

  

There’s a connection between you both, it doesn’t matter how celebrated she is. You haven’t just shared a few careless kisses; it wasn’t just one night of meaningless sex. There’s something real between you both, and it already existed before you knew who she was. This madness that surrounds her, was always the reality; you were just unaware of it.  

There was a spark, regardless. You’d have the same connection with her if she was filling shelves in a supermarket, why should this be any different?  

She wasn’t put off by your lack of interest in football. She really wanted you here today. She gave you her shirt to wear. She told you she hoped you’d enjoy the game. There were tens of thousands of people in attendance this evening, and she searched for you, specifically.   

She deliberately put you in a contrasting shirt, so that she’d easily be able to find you, so that she’d definitely know that you came, and that you were here, watching her. That’s all she wanted. She just wanted you to see her play, and for you to have fun while doing it. She wanted you here, cheering her on. The best player in the world, and she's been choosing you. A little nobody from London.  

You’re allowed to be excited about that. You’re allowed to stop questioning her and second-guessing yourself. You don’t need to pay attention to the noise around you, the excited obsession with her from strangers, those distracting little seeds of doubt that he’s put into your head about yourself.  

There’s just her. There’s just Alexia, and she wanted you here.  

“Well ..just you,” you start softly, placing a kiss to the side of her head, “is a bloody lot more impressive than most people ..you were incredible out there.” You whisper shakily, and you can feel as she smiles against you, burying her head further into your neck.  

“You enjoyed it?” She breathes, and you can see a small bit of the weight that she’s bearing, lifting from her shoulders.   

“Until that moment. Yeah, I really did!” You tell her, smiling in mild disbelief at yourself. “I was worried, that I might have to pretend for you, but I just ..really loved watching you play, seeing you score!”  

“Were you quietly cheering?” She asks, pulling herself back from you, to excitedly take you in.   

“There was nothing quiet about it!” You admit with a grin, as you wipe away the streaks of tears on Alexia’s cheeks with the backs of your fingers. “You scored the winner!”  

The biggest smile spreads over her face at your bold act of tiny rebellion, and she pinches at the fabric of your shirt, gliding her fingers down the front of it, as she gives it a quick examination. “You were lucky they didn’t throw tomatoes at you, then!” 

“Mhmm! I did get a few words thrown at me, mind! There’s some horrible people about.” You tell her, as she continues holding onto your shirt. Her eyes meet yours and it’s a pair of nervous smiles that you exchange with each other. “I know it won’t mean much, coming from me. I’ve not watched a lot of football, and I know you have some pretty big awards for it, but ..you’re really bloody good! I’m so proud of you.”  

“It means everything.” She tells you ardently, pulling you into her over the railing. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”  

You let yourself get lost in her embrace for a moment, while she clings to the back of your shirt, and you can hear as her breath hitches when you place a quick kiss to her neck.  

“I really didn’t enjoy watching you get taken down, mind.” You reiterate, quietly.   

“No? I didn’t love that either, really.” She admits, chuckling to herself.  

“But you’re definitely okay?” You check again, pulling away from her to look properly at her leg.   

“Yes. I promise you. It’s fine, I’m fine. It just happens sometimes.” She shrugs.  

“Please don’t tell me that!” You beg, quickly shaking your head at her. “You can’t be putting me through that every match!”  

“Mm? You’ll be watching more games?” She asks, with that famous little smirk coming back into view as you nod your head at her.   

“I mean, it’s a bitch of a commute to do this weekly, but I’ll definitely be watching you on the telly, when I can’t make it.”  

“Wow.” She says, linking her arms together behind your neck. “You really did enjoy it.”  

“I know ..you’ve broken me!” You chuckle, as she rests her forehead to yours, and her lips are once again, the only thing you can focus on. You watch as she wets them in front of you, and it almost feels like she’s taunting you a little bit. “Are we allowed to kiss here?” You ask, trying to disguise your desperation, as you pull yourself away to scan the stadium.  

There’s only a few random stragglers making their exits up the steps, and none of them seem to be paying any attention to the pair of you at all. So, it might not be beyond the realms of possibility.  

Alexia takes your face in her hands and tilts your head. “Yes.” She tells you, simply, and she pulls you into her, capturing your lips with hers. She doesn’t do her own check of your surroundings at all; she really isn’t too fussed if anyone’s watching you both this time.  

It’s quite the romantic place to have a kiss, honestly. A huge colosseum, that’s almost entirely empty, a blanket of stars in the sky up above you. It’s not a kiss with any caution. It’s not hasty or secretive. It’s familiar, safe, and it’s able to finally be unreserved.   

It’s a kiss that the pair of you have been craving. One that doesn’t taste of tequila, that doesn’t have to be hidden from view, and one that doesn’t have the looming dread of immediate departure attached to it. It’s a slow deep kiss, that feels like home, and you’re quite content to drown yourself in it.  

“Where’s Em?” Alexia asks, and she really has ruined the moment.   

She seems unaware, as her lips are still moving against yours, but you freeze, breaking the kiss at her twisted choice of topic.  

“Woww?” You drag out, pulling back from her with a frown. “Mentioning my sister is a real mood-killer I do hope you realise!”  

“I’m sorry!” She giggles, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth.   

“You’re supposed to have come over here for me, not her!”  

“I did come over for you!” She tells you, rolling her eyes at your dramatics. “I just meant ..you’re here on your own.”  

“Mm. She left me.”  

“Why?”  

“She met a girl, while we were watching you play,” you explain, “they’ve gone back to hers already.”  

“Oh?” She questions, her eyes sparkling as she arches an eyebrow at you. “To play cards?”  

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I think so.”  

She links her arms back over your shoulders, leaning in very close. “So ..you’re without company tonight?” She checks, her lips ghosting yours, and your heart starts racing again at the suggestive tone to her voice.   

“Mhmm. That’s quite sad, isn’t it? When I’m on holiday?”  

“That’s very sad.” She agrees, tracing your jawline with her index finger.  

It’s hard not to have a physical reaction to the way that she’s always touching you, and you swallow down as she angles your face to draw her mouth even closer to you, your breath catching in your throat as her lips brush against yours.  

“Are you short on company tonight?” You whisper, rather shakily.  

“Mhmm.”  

“Oof. That might be even sadder.” You point out, and she nods in agreement with a small pout, before finally succumbing to another long kiss.  

You breakaway, entirely short on breath, and she smiles as the obvious effect she’s just had on you as you try to come to your senses. “Do you ..not want to celebrate with your teammates?”  

“Not really.” She tells you, her pupils dilating as her eyes roam over your body.  

“Would you ..maybe, want to do something with me, then?” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” She asks, her cocky little smile curving her lips, and you chuckle despite yourself.   

“I really think I might be. You admit. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me!” You tell her, shaking your head with a smile. “I’d never looked at another woman before, never cared about a football result. Never asked someone out on a date.”  

“Mm? And now look at you.” She says, cradling your face as she searches your eyes. “Does it scare you?” She asks, stroking her thumb over your cheek, and you pause for a beat in consideration.  

“A little,” you confess, “but never when I’m with you.”  

Your candour earns you another kiss. Whether she’s fully aware of the power her lips have on calming your nerves, or she just fancied kissing you, you don’t really know, and you don’t really care. You welcome it the same way you’ve welcomed every other kiss from her, and the same way you’ll continue to welcome any future kisses from her, should you be so lucky.  

“Were you going to leave me?” Alexia asks after a moment, tapping at the sweatshirt again with a horrible look of uncertainty in her eyes.  

“I really don’t know.” You tell her honestly, and worry creases her brow, as you let out a breath. “I don’t think I’d have got very far,” you admit, “but it’s just ..been a lot to take in.”  

There’s a familiar look of understanding from her. It’s the exact same look she had given you when you’d stayed still in the hotel elevator, as she had made her exit. It’s a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, that barely curves her lips. It’s a look of acceptance, resignation, and it’s a heartbreaking sight to see.   

“I don’t want to leave you.” You clarify. “I don’t really know ..what this is, between us, but I know how I feel about you, and I don’t want to run from it. I just know ..that you can probably do better.”  

You bop your own hand gently on the barrier in a fist, and she narrows her eyes at you. “What do you mean by that?” She asks, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth.   

“I freaked out ..when you went down. It got to me outside, seeing your name everywhere. I couldn’t ..really tell you what my sexuality is, at this point.” You take a breath, still knocking your fist awkwardly on the railing. “There’ll be so many other women, more sure of themselves, more ..prepared, and ready to embrace everything.” You explain, closing your eyes to stop them from stinging. “They won’t need to study your team before you play, they won’t go into a panic every time another player gets a little too close to you. They’ll be just as desperate to be with you, and they’ll be bett—”  

You’re cut off from your little ramble, with what you’re assuming was a kiss.  

Your eyes are closed, and it was unbelievably quick. You’d be forgiven for thinking you’d imagined it completely; it was really quite so fleeting. If the fireworks that Alexia’s set off on your lips weren’t quite so familiar to you, you might have thought it was a bee that had stung you. She’s really gone and left you all lightheaded with little more than a peck.  

“You kissed me!” You tell her breathlessly, as though she wasn’t the one to do it to you.  

“Mhmm. Imagine that.” She says, as she lets her eyes roam over your face with a small smile. “You studied the team?”  

“I know, I’m sorry.” You cringe. “I just didn’t want to not know who you played with. I mean, I didn’t even know who you were yesterday, what chance would I have had with any—”  

She kisses you again, the exact same way, leaving you with the exact same reaction.  

“You kissed me!” You repeat, and she chuckles at you, nodding her head.  

“Mhmm. You’re on vacation,” she reminds you, “and you spent the day studying my team?”  

“Mm.”  

“And you worried about me getting hurt?” 

“Mm.” 

“And you’re so desperately into me, that I’ve got you questioning your sexuality?” She winks.  

“I mean..” you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes, “..maybe.” 

“And you really think, that any of that ..would make me like you less?” She asks, narrowing her eyes with that familiar smirk.  

“Well ..sort of.” You admit. “I mean ..the studying. Most people wouldn’t need to do that.”  

“You didn’t need to do that.” She points out.  

“Mm ..no, I really think I did.” You chuckle. “I didn’t know anything about football this morning, you can ask Em.” 

“You don’t care about football.” She reminds you. 

“Maybe not ..but I care a little bit about you. I just knew it was important to you, I didn’t want to be completely clueless about it.” 

Alexia shakes her head at you lightly, before kissing you again. It’s not so quick this time, so you don’t need to be as embarrassed about her still leaving you lightheaded and short on breath.  

“You kissed me!” You repeat, a childish grin taking over your face, and she rests her forehead to your shoulder, chuckling at your excited little reaction. “So, you do still like me the same?” You double-check and she lifts her gaze to meet your eyes.  

She cradles your head in her hand, shaking her own lightly back at you as she rubs her thumb over your cheek. “I think I might like you even more.” She tells you. “I wasn’t really sure that would be possible after yesterday.”  

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.”  

“Well ..what else are you into? I can study anything.”  

She giggles at your eagerness before kissing you again. “I’m very into you.” She says, and your eyes light up in front of her.  

“That’s so unbelievably lucky, I know almost everything about her already!”  

“Yeah? Then maybe we’re perfect for each other.” She tells you, with a distinct conviction in her voice that sends that special little thrill running right through your body as she pulls you in for another kiss. 

 

“So ..is that a ‘yes’?��� You ask. “To maybe going on a date with me? It’s a bit late now, I know, but we still have tomorrow.” You suggest, beginning to stumble over your words. “I know it’s probably not the smoothest way you’ve ever been asked out. I’m new to this. I’m not very good, but I’ll work on it. I’ll get better.” 

“I think you’re already better than you think you are.” She tells you softly, resting her forehead to yours. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

“Even though my head’s a mess and I’m still figuring things out?” 

“Mhmm.” She giggles, gently rolling her bottom lip under her teeth. “I’ll help you figure things out. We’ll work it all out together.” She offers.  

“That could be a lot of work.” 

“I know, and I really think you might be worth it.” She tells you, giving you another gentle kiss. “I’m sorry all of this got to you. I should have told you about it yesterday, but ..I didn’t want to scare you off.” She explains. “I know it can be a lot, I don’t love every part of it..” 

“It’s okay, I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for it, really. I knew you’d have a lot of fans ..it was just seeing them all. Like this ..Alexia army.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Please don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for.” You reassure her. “Not unless all those other buggers also got their shirts from you?” 

“No,” she chuckles, running her fingers up the front of the fabric on your body, “you’re the only one.” 

“I should probably feel quite special, then.” You wink. “People would kill to be wearing this.” 

“Mhmm. You are special.” She tells you, her fingers trailing the neckline of your shirt. She pulls you back into her, her lips feathering yours. “You’re in my top three for a reason.” 

The barrier’s proving to be a little bit of a pest to the pair of you, what with it being such a hindrance to all of your kissing. After receiving confirmation from Alexia, that no one would attack you for joining her on the grass, you throw her sweatshirt on over your head, and quickly negotiate the railing to be with her. 

It might be your favourite place to be, just melting into her arms as she holds you against her. Even though she’s still a little bit gross from running around for so long, you wouldn’t really swap it for anything.  

Your eyes flick around the stadium as you look over her shoulder. There’s a faded majesty to the arena when it’s empty like this. You’re the only ones still out here and the beauty of the place isn’t lost on you, as you get to share it with Alexia. It feels more special without thousands of other strangers crammed in here with you, it’s like a secret discovery you’ve both stumbled upon. A vast abandoned colosseum, existing just for you two.  

“Does it not freak you out, playing in a place like this?” You ask her. 

“Not really.” She tells you, rather casually, joining you in staring up at the stands.  

“There’s so many eyes watching you.” 

“Mm. You sort of just block it all out.” She says. “You can hear everything, all the chanting and singing, but you don’t really pay too much attention to it. Not until you score, and then again at the end of the game. It isn’t really scary at that point, though. Then it’s just thousands of other people celebrating with you.” 

“You’re quite amazing,” you realise, gently nudging into her, “I think I’d shit myself.” 

She giggles at your blunt confession, intertwining her hand with yours. “I’d probably freak out if I did that in front of everyone.” She admits, kissing your fingers. “That’d be quite hard to live down.” 

“Do you not get nervous at all?” 

“No.” She tells you, simply. “I’ve worked hard for this. I trust myself; I trust the team. Us playing in stadiums like this, in front of crowds like that, it’s what we deserve. It’s what we’ve been doing it all for.” She drops her head momentarily, taking in a breath. “I wasn’t too sure I’d get the chance to play again at all, after..” she gestures loosely down to her leg and stands a little taller as her grip on your hand tightens, “I don’t take it for granted, that I’m able to be here. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going to waste time being scared of it.” 

There’s a different air of confidence to her on the pitch as you watch her. It’s not the same playful cockiness that she so often uses with you. It’s not arrogance, she isn’t being smug. She’s just proud of herself, the journey that she’s been on. She’s proud of where she is, she’s proud of her teammates and she really has every bloody right to be.  

“Are you okay?” She asks, her brow crinkling lightly as she looks to you. “You’re staring.” 

“Sorry. You’re just ..very beautiful.” You shrug, and you can see a small flush of colour settle over her cheeks as she smiles before quickly averting her eyes.  

“You haven’t told me what it is that you do for a living.” She reminds you, shirking the focus away from her as she walks backwards a little ahead of you, pulling you along with her. “We had an agreement.” She reminds you.  

“I think it’s far less exciting than your big reveal.” You warn her. “I’m just in finance ..banking.”  

You offer it with a tone of apology to your voice, which she certainly picks up on as she smiles at you and takes your other hand in hers. “That’s very impressive.” She assures you and a blush spreads across your own cheeks as she interlaces her fingers with yours. “You’re quite clever?”  

“I’m not too bad with numbers.” You chuckle.  

“Do you enjoy it?” She asks, and you nod your head.  

“That must seem ridiculous to you.” 

“Not at all. Are you good at it?” 

“Oof ..I’m not awful.” You smile. “I’ve actually been named ‘Employee of the Year’ on more than two separate occasions.” 

“Have you really?” She giggles.  

“Mhmm. That’s the same as those balloon awards of yours, right?” 

“Mhmm. Yes. Yeah ..I think that’s the exact same thing.” 

She really must like you if she’s willing to lie like that. There is slight tone of sarcasm to her voice, and rightly so. Your sister’s explained to you what a Ballon d’Or is, and Alexia being presented with it, for two years on the trot, is no mean feat. She’s been recognised for being the undisputed best at her profession, globally. You’ve received ‘Employee of the Year’ bonuses because your boss is a filthy pervert with a crush on you. These are not the same things at all.  

It’s very sweet of her to downplay her achievements for you and there’s something about her lack of arrogance with her career that’s very intriguing. She almost minimises her own importance, ignores the significance, and the impact that she’s had on the sport. It’s really just a regular job to her. She’s ‘just’ a footballer.  

She takes genuine pride in it, but she’s not gloating at all, she’s not bragging. Without her fans around her, you really wouldn’t know how big of a sensation she actually is. The fame and accolades really aren’t what she’s done any of this for. She just loves playing the game.  

“You’re staring again.” She points out, kissing your forehead.  

“You’re ..still very beautiful.” You tell her, offering up another shrug in lieu of any better explanation for your continual admiration of her.  

She places a kiss to the back of your hand, and her eyes twinkle over it as she meets your gaze. “We should get out of here.” She tells you. “I need to have a shower, but then we can go.” 

“Do you want me to wait here?” You offer, and she frowns at you in confusion. “So that you don’t have to introduce me to anyone.” You explain, and she giggles, shaking her head.  

“A few of them would probably recognise you.” She says, and a hot flush of embarrassment spreads right through your body.   

“Shit! For being drunk and angry?” 

“Mhmm! And straight.” She reminds you with a wink. “I think they quite like you, don’t worry. Mapi’s definitely a fan already.” 

A small groan falls from your mouth as you remember your rather unfortunate behaviour from that night, and it’s hard not cringe at yourself. It’s amazing you made such a good impression on Alexia, all things considered, but it’s a bit embarrassing to realise there was more than one world-class footballer watching your drunken antics.  

“I’ll have to stay out here.” You grimace. “That’s horrific!” 

“They’re probably already gone!” She giggles. “We’ve been out here for a while.” She places another kiss to your forehead, before walking backwards towards the tunnel holding her hand out for you to join her. “Are you coming?” 

You nod your head at her but make no real effort to move from where you are. “I never thanked you.” You call out to her, and she stills herself, tilting her head.  

“For what?” She chuckles, narrowing her eyes.  

“For saving me that night. From that old man ..I really don’t know where I’d be now if you hadn’t.” 

A grin splits her face, and she doesn’t miss a beat. “Therapy, probably!” She says, and her laugh echoes in the air around you.  

You quickly pull her sweatshirt back up to hide your face under it, shaking your head in shame, because she’s almost certainly right. It would have taken you a very long time to recover from waking up next to him the following morning. You definitely wouldn’t have been going for seconds, thirds and fourths with him all night. He’d have had a heart attack trying to compete with Alexia’s stamina.  

“He was so gross.” She reminds you, pulling the sweatshirt down as she returns to you. “You were very drunk.” 

She pushes the loose hairs back from over your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as she cups your face.  

“I don’t remember you helping me with that.” You point out. “I had more drinks with you than anyone else.” 

“Mm ..I quite liked being inappropriate with you. You were very daring,” she recollects, kissing you again, with her cocky little smile, “you’d already licked most of me before we even left the club!” 

“You started it!” You remind her, and she giggles in front of you.  

“Well, if that was a competition we were having, I think you certainly won!” She admits. “I’m sure abuelo would have enjoyed drinking with you just as much.” 

“Oof. Please don’t.” You mutter, suppressing a gag. “I think I’d have slapped him if he’d tried licking me.” 

Alexia laughs again, lifting your hand to her lips, to place a kiss to the back of it, and she winks at you, before she licks all down it with her tongue.   

“You’re such a child!” You giggle, wiping your hand against your shirt, and she winks at you again. “You could’ve been here with that girl from the toilets.” You point out. “At least she was very pretty.” 

“I know.” She sighs wistfully. “It’s a shame someone stole me from her.” 

“Mmm ..okay.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.  

She shakes her head with a small smirk, taking your hand and pulling you into her before wrapping her arms around your waist. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” She tells you, lightly bumping her nose to yours. “Bit scary of you, though. Following me all the way out here!” 

“I didn’t follow you!” You tell her, removing yourself from her hold. “I barely even remembered you existed before you draped your arm over me in that café.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” She scoffs. “You even followed us into that toilet.” 

“No, I didn’t!” You chuckle, crossing your arms in front of you as you smile up at her. “You followed me, though. Couldn’t keep you away!” 

“Mm ..maybe I really should’ve stayed with her instead.” 

“Okaay, that’s enough of that. She’s gone now, you missed your chance with her!" 

“Are you still jealous?” She winks, running her hands down your sides before slinking them back around your waist.  

“I wasn’t jealous. She was just ..all over you. In the toilet, of all places! It was very gross of you both, very unsanitary.” 

“Is that why you wanted to interrupt us?” She smirks, tilting her head very close to yours. “Bumped into me to stop me from catching germs? You’re very cute.” 

“That was an accident.” 

“You’re a terrible liar!” She laughs.  

“You were winding me up! Kissing someone else, what were you playing at?” 

“You went to go kiss men!” She points out.  

“I didn’t kiss any of them, though.” 

“It’s not my fault you were unsuccessful!” 

“I wasn’t unsuccessful!” You giggle, pushing her away from you. “I didn’t want to kiss any of them. I had one person on my mind that night, and I was actually very successful in getting her to kiss me ..eventually.” 

“I was on your mind?” She asks, bouncing her eyebrows as she rests her hands on your hips.  

“You’re so annoying, always so cocky.” You roll your eyes, linking your hands behind her neck before pulling her down to kiss you. “Yes. You were on my mind.” You admit, collapsing your head to her chest. “You’re always on my mind. You’re like a bloody broken record in here.” 

She kisses the top of your head, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “You’re always on my mind too.” She whispers. “I don’t think I’ve really stopped thinking about you at all since I first saw you in that club.” 

“When you shoved that bloody lime in my face?” You mumble against her.  

“I didn’t shove a lime in your face!” She laughs. “I held it for you, I was being helpful.” 

“Mm ..well, then I owe you two lots of thanks.” You realise, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “One for your ..handy little lime assistance, and one for saving me from that ancient creeper. I am genuinely grateful for the second one.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for either of them.” She tells you. “I was being selfish really.” 

It’s difficult to know just how much time you both managed to kill outside, but the dressing room’s completely empty by the time you two make your way through to it. You sit, patting your hands against your thighs, as Alexia goes for her shower, and you try to keep yourself entertained without her.  

There’s a lot of things for you to look at in the room, lots to take in. There’s a history to the stadium, which should be interesting to have a backstage pass to. It’s a privilege, being in here. Legends have roamed these halls, sporting greats from decades past. It’s very exciting for you to be granted access to it, and yet, none of it’s at all fascinating to you when you know there’s a wet, naked lady in the other room.  

You continue drumming out your frustrations as you try to stop yourself from thinking of Alexia in the shower.  

All on her own. In the shower.   

Alone.  

Showering.  

You really just can’t help yourself.  

She doesn’t take too long to return to you and a loud gasp falls from your lips when she re-emerges.  

“¿Qué?” She winks, and the blush doesn’t even have the courtesy of creeping up on you, you’re just immediately bright red.  

“You’re naked.” You inform her, very quietly, in case she hadn’t already realised. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Wow..” You breathe, gritting your teeth as you try to remain calm.

“Oh? That’s so funny. I seem to remember that being the exact same reaction to the one you had last time!” 

“Heh heh heh!” You draw out slowly, rolling your eyes at her unremitting need to be cocky.  

She leans against the wall in front of you, and it really isn’t very easy to maintain eye contact with her when her body’s on full display in front of you. It doesn’t feel like she’s particularly bothered about your wandering eyes, which is really rather lucky, because you’re not exactly doing it with any level of subtlety.  

This isn’t really helping in keeping all of the dirty thoughts that you’ve been having about her at bay. You’re also going to split your lip open if you keep biting down on it as hard as you are. 

She moves towards you steadily, and your heart starts beating in double time. “You’re staring.” She tells you, yet again, and you nod at her very astute observation skills.  

“You ..are ridiculously beautiful.” You point out, struggling to keep your composure as she steps within reaching distance. “You’re also very dry.” You realise with a frown, trapping your hands under your legs. “You’re supposed to be having a shower so that we can get the hell out of here!” 

“Mm.” She hums, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to face her. “I was wondering if you might want to keep me company?” She says, and you have to gasp again at her very friendly little suggestion.  

“In the shower with you? While you’re naked?” You grin, and she chuckles, nodding her head.  

“Mhmm. I was hoping you might want to get naked too.” 

“Oof. What an incredibly tempting offer.” You admit, bobbing your legs as you wet your lips. “I just need a few minutes to really think about it.” 

“Mm?” She shakes her head and folds her arms. “You have two seconds before I’m revoking.” 

“Two seconds? Do you see what I mean about you being cocky and annoying? You think I fancy you that badly? That I’m that desperate and needy that I’ll just cave as soon as you—” 

“Uno.” 

“I’m in!” You exclaim, jumping to your feet with embarrassing haste. “I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in!” You continue mumbling against her lips to make sure that she doesn’t start her unnecessary counting again.  

You make very light work of pulling both layers off over your head in one swift motion, and Alexia looks rather impressed with your efficiency as she drags her thumb down the middle of your torso. She bites her lip with her eyebrow arching slightly, as she takes you in, and you do feel a little bit proud of yourself.  

“I’ve been going to the gym a lot.” You tell her, tensing slightly to show off your progress.  

“I can tell.” She says, running her thumb back up your stomach.  

“Really?” You grin, trying to ignore the goosebumps that have spread over your skin from her touch. “I slept with this girl whose body made me drool.” You admit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Felt like I was letting the side down a bit, so.” 

“I think you’re beautiful naked.” She tells you, and your heart skips a beat as her eyes darken over you.  

“That’s very crazy! That’s the same thing that she kept saying!” 

“Mm?” She loops a finger through your belt buckle, drawing you in closer to her.  

“It does turn out that she’s a professional athlete, though. So, I might have to just settle for being second best.” 

She chuckles at you, shaking her head. “All this ..is for her benefit?” She asks, leaning into you.  

“Mm. Well ..I wasn’t really sure I’d ever find her again,” you admit, letting out a very cautious exhale, “..but no one else has seen me..”

 

It’s a pointed confession from you, carrying a lot of added weight to it. Neither of you owe each other any loyalty from that night and you’d have no real right to be hurt, if she has explored other options. It’s not a test from you, you know it wouldn’t really change things, you did give it a try yourself, to be with someone else.  

It didn’t feel right to you, when it wasn’t with her, you could barely even flirt with another person, but you can’t really have any negative reaction, if Alexia hasn’t had that same struggle. There’s a morbid curiosity in you, perhaps, given the direction your previous relationship went in, and you can only hope, that she will treat your heart more gently than he did.  

She doesn’t know, that you were cheated on, she wouldn’t know, what her own admission would mean to you. You’re offering yourself up unprotected, to a woman who isn’t aware of the bomb she could be setting off inside your chest. It’s a silent plea from you, that this really has been as all-consuming to her, as it has been to you, and it’s very a big ask of someone, who you’ve only met thrice.  

Her eyes pierce through to your soul, as she studies you, and it’s excruciating, waiting for her to give you something. There’s a clear caution in her, of what she’s about to tell you, and you’re not certain if it’s guilt, or sympathy, or something else entirely.  

“Really?” She asks, and her voice is hoarse, as her eyes narrow at you. You can’t trust yourself with words right now, so you only offer her a silent nod, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes at your promise. She’s tentative, and nervous, and the mystery that once shielded her eyes when you first looked into them, is slowly dissolving in front of you. It isn’t guilt or sympathy that she’s feeling, she’s scared of letting you in.  

It’s not unreasonable for her to have her own concerns, regarding you. You were incredibly pig-headed, about being straight, the night that you first met. You told her your relationship had ended only recently, and then you jumped straight into bed with her.  

She can be certain that you’re attracted to her, you haven’t hidden that very well, but she has no real reason to assume that she isn’t a rebound, or a little sexuality test for you. You’re not the only one putting yourself in a vulnerable position here, she also stands to get hurt from this.  

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her face, as she accepts that you’re telling her the truth. The subtle confession, that the girl who was so relentlessly hunting for some random male company the night that Alexia first met her, hasn’t been on that same hunt since, clearly means as much to her, as a similar confession would mean to you.  

“I haven’t been with anyone else either.” She tells you, and it breathes life back into your lungs.  

You catch her entirely off guard as you press your lips against hers, but she’s very quick to catch up with you. There’s a distinct desperation in the kiss this time, a fervent hunger. An intense desire to make known how much she means to you, to show her that the small question mark that you have over your sexuality, doesn’t extend to any questions about her. You’re in no doubt of your feelings, you’re very certain of what you want.  

Actions speak louder than words, clearly, and you’re definitely not leaving anything up to speculation. The passion in you continues to build and it’s Alexia who’s left breathless, when you finally pull away. You’ve rendered her speechless, and she blinks hard a few times as she lifts her fingers to her lips, before collecting herself again.  

You’re sporting her smirk as she looks back at you, and she rolls her eyes with a shy smile. “Are you getting naked, or what?” She asks impatiently, and a laugh rings out from inside of you.  

“Oof. I love when you’re romantic with me, baby.” 

This might actually be your favourite place to be. Not the random shower stalls, they’re not particularly important to the rush that’s shooting through you. It’s entirely down to the wet and naked company that you have in here.  

Reacquainting yourself with the curves and the ridges of her body, having her pressed up against you as her hands explore yours. It’s exciting just being back with her, your body’s on fire under her touch, your soul’s been reawakened, and none of the scenarios you kept playing through in your head, could ever really compare to having the real thing in front of you again.  

“Is your leg still sore?” You ask, placing kisses along Alexia’s jawline as she leans her back against the tiles.  

“I’ve already told you, that it’s fi—“ 

“Because I was thinking,” you interrupt, cutting her off with a kiss to her lips, “we should probably take some precautions.” You suggest, and her eyes narrow as she smiles slyly at you. “We wouldn’t want to aggravate it..” 

“Mm.” She nods, trapping her tongue between her teeth. “Are you offering to get down on your knees for me?” She asks you knowingly, tangling her fingers in your hair.  

“Mhmm ..for the good of the team.” You offer, feigning herosim as you kiss along her chest. “For football.” 

“Mm ..well, I did score the winning goal.” She reminds you.  

“Well, exactly, and that deserves to be celebrated.” 

She chuckles, as she pulls you back into her by your neck, catching you a little off guard as her tongue re-enters your mouth. “I really have missed you.” She murmurs against your lips.  

“Mm but like ..as a person,” you check, pulling back slightly, “not just my bloody tongue?” You pout softly up at her as she giggles with a nod. “Because I’m quite nice company for you to have around ..I’m very cute and funny.” 

“You’re adorable and hilarious.” She agrees, running a finger up the middle of your torso. It sends goosebumps all along your body again, which she’s acutely aware of as that smirk is very much back on her face.  

“But in like a sexy way.” You tell her, trying to ignore the heat she’s sent through you, and she continues to nod her head as she bites her lip. “Like a ..'I should take that girl home with me and do dirty things to her' kind of way."

“Is that what you’d like me to do to you?” She asks, with her eyebrow arching.  

“After our shower ..yes please.” 

“Okay.” She promises, tangling her fingers even further as she kisses you. “Then drop to your knees.” She instructs you, and much like a loyal little soldier, you’re very quick to do as you’re told.  

She’s never really been quite so assertive with you, and a mild moan escapes you from it, as you traverse down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as you make your descent. She tightens her grip on you as she tilts your head to look back up at her, sending a dull pleasure running through you, before she guides you to the place where she’s wanting you most.  

It ends up being one of the longest showers of your life, and you’re lucky to be leaving the stadium together before you both get locked inside of it.  

Discussion turns to sleeping arrangements as you walk the length of the parking lot. Neither of you have any intentions of going home without the other, despite the lateness of the hour, and it feels like there’s an obvious choice for where you’ll end up staying. The hotel isn’t the best place for you tonight. The receptionist would undoubtedly recognise the company you’re keeping, and despite Em being out for the night, she isn’t exactly known for hanging around with her lady-friends the morning after.  

You don’t really want to have to kick Alexia out super early, and Em catching the pair of you tangled up in bed together when she gets back, also doesn’t sound ideal.  

“Are you scared of dogs?” Alexia asks as she opens her car door for you.  

“No..” 

“Then we’ll go back to mine.” 

“You told me Nala was a Pomeranian?” 

“She is.” 

“Well ..then even if I was scared of dogs, I probably wouldn’t be afraid of her.” You giggle, placing a kiss to her temple before getting into your seat.  

“I was just checking.” She tells you as she joins you in the car.  

“Is she unfriendly?” 

“No, she is a very good judge of character, though.” She warns, with a smile that’s mildly disconcerting.  

“Oh ..so it’s a red flag if she takes a disliking to me?” 

“Mhmm. I’d have to kick you out!” 

It doesn’t feel like a fully-fledged threat from her, but there is a tone to her voice, that tells you she’s not completely joking either.

She starts up her car and rests her hand on your leg as she sets off from the stadium. Her fingers trace circles on the inside of your thigh and you have to link her hand with yours as she starts trailing up, to stop her from doing too much when the goosebumps quickly form along your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers, “you don’t like it?” 

“I might like it a bit too much.” You chuckle, placing a kiss to the back of her hand, before placing it back in your lap.  

It’s hard to stop your eyes from drooping a little in the car, you really are very exhausted. You rest your head against your seatbelt and dig the nails of your free hand into your leg to try and stop you from falling asleep. You have limited time with Alexia as it is, and you don’t want to miss out on any precious minutes.  

There’s something unfortunately hypnotic about the glow from the streetlamps above you, though, which isn’t super helpful with your plight. The light pulses through the windows as Alexia drives, and you give your head a shake when you find your eyelids getting too heavy.  

“Are you okay?” She asks, a little alarmed at your sudden spasm.  

“Mhmm.” You mumble, stifling a yawn. “I really need you to keep talking to me, please. I don’t want to fall asleep.” 

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything.” 

She stares out at the road in front of her, losing herself in thought for a moment. She raises your hand to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, and she bops her other hand on the steering wheel.  

“I asked after your initial.” She tells you whimsically, and your face scrunches, not at all following what she means.  

It was a very weird thing for her to say to you, it’s not entirely down to your sleepiness that you didn’t understand.  

“Sorry?” You ask, and her grip on your hand tightens. 

“I was back in London last week ..I went back to that club.” She reveals, and your heart misses a beat as she speaks. “I was hoping, maybe you’d be in there again ..looking for a man.” She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers over the wheel. “I was worried ..that you might have already found one, when you weren’t there.” You place another kiss to the back of her hand, and her fingers twitch as they link through yours. “I think we made a big impression on that bartender.” She giggles.   

“Bless him. We really did put on quite the show.” 

“Mhmm! He was there again, when I went. I asked him about you, and he said he definitely remembered us, but he told me he really had no idea who you were.” A sigh escapes her lips, and she taps at the steering wheel again. “I couldn’t stay in there for very long.” She admits. “It gave me a headache. It was bad enough being in the same hotel. I did have a roommate this time, so ..we really did end up playing cards together, but ..I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Knowing you had to be near, but I’d never be able to find you.” 

“I could’ve gone to that game.” You tell her thoughtfully. You stroke your thumb along the side of her index finger and clench your jaw. “Em invited me, and I told her to bore off.” You explain. “If I’d have had any idea ..I’d have been front row for you. I hate that we missed out on time together.” 

“We’re together now.” She points out quickly.  

“Only until tomorrow night ..then we’re right back where we started.” 

“Not really.” She assures you, giving your hand a squeeze. “We know who we are now. We know where we are, we’ll swap numbers.” 

“And we’ll what, make a proper go of it? With all of these miles between us?” 

Her jaw tightens slightly as she continues staring out in front of her. “If you also want to.” She says softly.  

“I’ve never really loved the idea of doing long-distance.” 

“You don’t think it works?” She asks you, and her voice cracks slightly.  

“I know that it can. It’s just ..not ideal.” You sigh.  

“You’d miss me too much?” She smirks, and you shake your head with a small smile.  

“Maybe.” You admit. “Why’d you have to be bloody Spanish?” 

“You’d prefer me to come from London?” 

“Yes! I mean ..you wouldn’t sound as lovely, but at least you’d be local.” You point out. “It’d be far easier.” 

“Mm.” She mumbles. “Well ..you could have been from Barcelona, that would’ve been helpful.” She pulls the car up outside of her home, and you stare out at it through the window. “Come on.” She tells you, patting your thigh as she opens her door. “We won’t have to worry about any of this if Nala doesn’t like you!” 

Alexia greets you at your side of the car and takes your hand as she leads you to the door. “¡Buena suerte!” She whispers, and you’re not 100% sure what it means, as she gives you a very dramatic look of dread before she pushes through the entrance. 

It feels like she’s really trying to worry you, but it would be very harsh to send you back to your hotel with your tail between your legs because her dog’s barked at a stranger. You’re not exactly Dr Dolittle but are you a fan of animals, and you’d be quite upset yourself if Nala didn’t take a liking to you.  

You’re attacked, as soon as you step through the door. It’s not an uncontrolled ravaging that you receive, Nala certainly isn’t rabid. It’s a very excitable licking that you’re greeted with, it would seem that dogs really are like their owners. It really isn’t the big and scary personality test that Alexia likes to pretend it is at all, but she might have already known it wasn’t going to be a dealbreaker when she pushed you into the house with this vicious scary animal before her.  

“Well, shit.” She sighs, looking down at you as you play with her dog on the floor, and the rare expletive from her mouth rings very cutely in your ears.  

“What?” You giggle, craning your neck to meet her gaze.  

“Now we might have to worry about it.” 

You lift Nala into your arms and rise to your feet. A toothy smile spreads across your face as you move towards Alexia, and there’s a lot of affection for you being carried in her eyes.  

“She quite likes me.” You point out, and Alexia nods her head, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “And she doesn’t even know what I’m saying to her.” You place a kiss to the top of Nala’s head. “You might have to teach me some Spanish ..so we can have a proper conversation.” You tell her, bobbing Nala in your arms as you bury your face in her fur. “It’d make my trips out here a bit easier too.” 

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly at your casual words of intent, and she beams at you as you give her dog another kiss. “You do want to give us a go?” She asks.  

“Mhmm. I think I’d be crazy not to.” 

“It could be a lot of work.” She tells you, and you nod, smiling up her. 

“I know ..and I really think you might be worth it.” 

A full smile takes over her face as she quickly takes Nala from your arms and places her back down on the floor, before giving you a quick kiss. She pulls you through with her to let Nala do her business outside, and something shiny on the wall draws your eye. 

“These are all your trophies?”  

“..Some of them.” 

“Blimey!” You chuckle, as you move closer to them all. You keep a small distance, crossing your arms to make sure you don’t accidentally knock anything, and you study one, in particular, that’s caught your attention. “You made my sister cry, when you got this one.” You tell her, pointing to her World Cup medal. “I thought something terrible had happened when she rang me.” 

“I’ll have to apologise to her," she winks, “when we meet.” 

“Mm. You’ll have to apologise for today’s match, too.” You point out with a grin. “You’ve ruined her life a few times, I think.” 

Nala makes her way back inside, brushing against your legs as she scurries off to who knows where, and a finger tapping at your shoulder, distracts you from your perusal of Alexia’s trophy cabinet. She smiles as you turn to face her, and she runs her finger down your nose before giving you a quick kiss. 

“Oh my god!” Escapes your lips in a breathy giggle as Alexia lifts you into her arms and you wrap your legs around her waist. “Hi.” 

“Hi!”  

It’s a passionate kiss that she gives you, and any sense of tiredness that was taking over your body a few minutes ago, is very quickly forgotten as you lose yourself in her.

“I can walk.” You remind her, as she carries you towards her bedroom. 

“I don’t care.” 

You’re almost winded when your back hits the mattress, as she flings you onto it, a little carelessly. You’d probably be more stroppy about it, if she didn’t pull her shirt off before joining you on the bed. She didn’t bother putting a bra on after your shower and you’re very easily distracted.  

It is her actual eyes you find yourself fascinated by this time, though. They really are very beautiful, and there’s far less mystery lingering in them now. It’s tenderness you see in them as she looks over you, silent intimacy, devotion, and the idea of eyes being the window to the soul has never seemed more true to you.  

There’s an honesty in her eyes that far exceeds any words she could ever say to you, but you’re fairly sure you know what she’s thinking. You’re almost certain, in fact, and you feel compelled to confess something to her yourself. 

“You. are. staring. again.” She tells you, punctuating each word with an increasingly deeper kiss.  

“Mhmm.” You concede, and your hands rest on her hips as she smiles down at you. You swallow down carefully as your eyes meet hers, and your heart skips a few more beats. “I really think ..that I might be falling for you.” You profess, and her pupils dilate as she smiles down at you. “Is that ridiculous? To fall for someone so quickly?” 

“I don’t think so.” She says, her brow furrowing slightly. “Sometimes you just know.” 

“Would it be okay ..if I did start falling?” 

“Mhmm.” She runs her finger under your chin, rubbing her thumb over your bottom lip, before leaning herself down over you. “I’m falling for you, too.” She tells you, before pulling you into her by your neck.  

It’s different, from the sex you’ve had with other people before, being with Alexia. It never seems to be quick, and it doesn’t feel one-sided. You’re not left wanting after it, it isn’t unfulfilling. There's a continual desperate desire in you, to have her be with you, and to make sure that she’s also feeling good. It’s not a chore, and it isn’t something that she’s demanding from you.  

There’s passion between you, affection, and it’s an equal offering from you both. It’s exciting, it’s fun, and it puts all your past experiences to shame. There’s an innocence in your enjoyment of each other, it really isn’t just a physical act between the two of you. It’s a bearing of your soul to each other, every time, and it’s no wonder at all, that you’re falling as quickly as you are. 

There’s far more confidence in you now. You’re not having to follow Alexia’s lead quite so much. You know her body, what she likes you doing to it, and you savour every second of having her back under you. Every whimper and moan that you’re able to coax from her, how she feels around you, the taste of her on your tongue. Having her able to cry out your actual name this evening, has also set your soul on fire. Hearing it echo around in the showers, having her moan it like a quiet secret into your ear, as she grips at the sheets beneath her. 

Alexia does have you entirely at her mercy when she chooses to take back control, and whether she really did appreciate you being so selfless by caring about her injury in the shower, or the fact that Nala took to you quite so quickly, you can’t be certain, but you’ve definitely done something to have her wanting to treat you extra nicely, before you remind her that she doesn’t need to be quite so gentle with you.  

This isn’t your first time; you’re very much wanting her to have her wicked way with you. 

It satisfies the burning inside of you, completely, satiating your hunger, and happily leaving you a little worn out after everything. She’s in a similar state of exhaustion, panting when she collapses back down onto you. So, you can probably give yourself a little pat on the back for your own efforts with her.  

“Are you okay?” She checks with you, as you try to steady your breathing. She places a kiss to your neck in such a way, that you know she’s leaving another mark that you’ll need to cover up, and you run your fingers down her sides.   

“Mhmm ..I think you’ve wiped me out.” You admit, lazily kissing along her shoulder.   

“I think you’ve done the same!” She tells you, chuckling, as she rubs her thumb over your neck, admiring the new bruise that she’s decorated you with.  

She watches over you for a moment, and you raise your fingers to your face.  

“Do I have something on me?” 

“No..” 

“Well ..now you’re staring.” 

“Mhmm.”  

“Are you okay?” 

“Do you want children?” She asks you, rather abruptly, and you have to chuckle at the timing of her question.  

“What?” 

“Children.” She repeats.  

“..I don’t know what the Spanish education system has taught you, Ale ..but what we just did to each other ..isn’t resulting in any babies.” 

“Idiota,” she chuckles, “but do you want them?” 

“I don’t want you to go out stealing any.” 

“Y/N!” She giggles, holding herself up over you. “I’m being serious.” 

She shakes her head at you, and you grin up at her. “I think I do, yeah. Eventually, with the right person.” 

A faint smile spreads over her face and she leans down for a kiss.  

“Do you?” You question, and she nods her head, before kissing you again.  

“Two.” She tells you. “One of each. A girl first.” 

“I’ve always thought I’d have a girl first.” You admit. “Though ..I figured I’d just have two girls ..a little boy would be cute.” 

“Mhmm!” She hums against you, linking her hands with yours as she pushes herself back up.  

“That's a very intense question,” you point out, “before we’ve even been on our first date. I should be running for the hills.” 

“Do you want to?” 

“No,” you admit, “but you’ve got me picturing a family with you, and we’ve only hung out three times!” 

“Is that what we’re doing?” She questions with a smile. “We’re hanging out?” 

“What would you call it?” You ask her, and her eyes glitter above you.  

“I don’t know,” she says, “but I don’t hang out with anyone else like this.” 

“That’s a relief!” You chuckle, and she bites her lip as she shakes her head again.

“I think I want to be doing more than just hanging out with you.” She tells you, and a small smirk pulls at your lips.  

“Well ..if our date goes well tomorrow, and we keep agreeing to meet up and go out with each other. Then ..we’d probably be dating.” 

“Would that scare you, dating a woman?” 

“Not when the woman’s you. I don’t think I’d ever shut up bragging about it.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure on you, then.” She points out with a smile. “To make sure our first date goes well.” 

“I know, and I don’t know Barcelona very well.” You remind her. “I wouldn’t know where I can take you, where you won’t get papped.” 

She nods in understanding and leans down for a kiss. “Then, will you go on a date with me?” She asks, with a very knowing smile. “I can arrange our Barcelona dates, if you sort the ones in London.” 

She holds out her pinky in front of you, for you to solidify your promise with her, and you place a kiss to your linked fingers, before losing yourself in her eyes again. “Deal.” You tell her softly, and a thrill flows right through your body as she collapses back down onto you.  

It stirs in your head, as you realise that this is what it should actually feel like to be with someone. An excitement inside of you when you know you’re about to see them. A constant wish to be near to them, a genuine enjoyment of their company. A want to share your life with them, to talk about a future together without a sense of fear, or dread about it.  

It’s what you could have gone on to miss out on, for your whole life, without her.  

There’s a comfort in you, when you’re with her, a lazy pleasure in having her body resting on top of yours. The way her fingers trace over your every curve, how her lips light tiny fires on your skin. Each caressing touch from her is one that you crave. Every kiss, the way she laughs. Her relentless teasing, her continual cockiness.  

It’s all something you want no other person to be lucky enough to experience the way that you’ve been able to. It’s all what combines together to make up Alexia. You want her, completely. Body and soul.

And it hits you, like a hammer to the chest. 

You’re already in love with this woman.  

“Are you okay?” She asks. “Your heart’s beating very quickly.” 

“Mhmm ..I’m fine.” 

She props herself up on her elbows over you and tilts her head with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m a terrible liar?” You realise, and she softly nods her head. 

“You can talk to me.”  

“I know, I just ..I’m just going to miss you, after tomorrow.” 

“We can’t do that to ourselves.” She tells you quickly. “We still have the whole day to spend together.” 

“I know, I just—” 

She mutes you with a kiss and shakes her head. “No.” She says. “We’re not doing that. We can worry about it later. I’m taking you out tomorrow. You can’t go into our first date feeling miserable, the rest of our dates rest on the success of this one. You go into this date worrying about saying goodbye, we’ll never have any other da—” 

You cut her off this time.

It seemed like she was really about to start spiralling almost as pathetically as you have been doing all day. What a pair of losers you are together. Maybe you are perfect for each other. 

“Okay.” You tell her, nodding as you wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Okay, I’m sorry.” 

“We have one more day together,” she whispers, “we’re not wasting it being sad.” 

It’s an unfortunate curiosity, that sleep has been so hard for you to come by when you’ve been so desperate for it, and now, it’s threatening to steal you away when you fancy nothing more than staying awake forever. You don’t want to go to sleep, but a yawn that you’re not quite quick enough to stifle, lets Alexia know that you’re struggling a little to stay up with her.  

“Shit.” You mutter, throwing your arm over your face. “You caught that didn’t you?” 

“Mhmm. You can go to sleep.” She assures you, but you shake your head with a petulant pout.  

“I’m not tired.” You tell her, and she giggles, placing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off the side of you.  

“You really are a terrible liar.” She says, opening her arms to welcome you into her, and you don’t waste much time nestling yourself in her embrace.  

“I don’t want to sleep.” You admit to her chest, and she runs her fingers through your hair. “Not while I’m with you.” 

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“You’d better be.” You tell her. 

She throws her leg over your hip, drawing you in even closer to her, and you run your fingers up her thigh. 

“Are you quite comfy?”

“Mhmm! I’m not having you roll away from me again in the morning.” 

“I really wouldn’t want to.” You murmur, placing a kiss to her chest, as you snuggle closer against her.  

“Well, now you can’t!” She tells you. “I have very strong legs.” 

“I know, you do.” You chuckle sleepily. “I’ve had them clamped around my head a few times.” 

Another small yawn escapes you as you close your eyes, finally accepting defeat, and you place another lazy kiss to her chest as you begin drifting off.  

“Te quiero, Y/N.” Alexia whispers. “Dulces sueños.” 

“You sound really very lovely ..and I’m really bloody sorry ..but I don’t know what you’re saying to me.” You remind her, and you can feel her nodding her head gently. 

“Sweet dreams.” She translates, tightening her arms around you, as you struggle to stifle yet another little yawn.  

“Sweet dreams, Ale.” You manage to mumble in reply, before sleep fully consumes you, and you’re finally able to rest.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

[cerridwen007]

Hard pill to swallow.

*pics above are from pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.4k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Joel helps you fix your problem with swallowing pills.

Notes/Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Soft!Joel vibes, lowkey daddy Joel vibes too, Joel being a teasing, filthy mouthed menace because I said so, mentions of pills (vitamins and hayfever), mentions of gagging/gag reflex, Joel lifts reader, but Joel is huge and hella strong so he can lift anyone, cumplay, oral (m receiving), finger sucking, praise/ nicknames, swearing, no y/n.

A/N: Disclosure, this is fully self indulgent and based on my struggle with swallowing pills and me wanting Joel Miller's dick in my mouth all waking hours.  Was meant to post this before Valentines, but time got the best of me. But I suppose you can consider this my Valentines present from me to you, even though it's not related to valentines at all. I swear this is the second time that writing about my struggles in a fic with Joel, it’s pretty much solved them. He is truly that man. Quickly edited, as always, so sorry if there are any mistakes. Anyways, enough babbling, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with posts are very much appreciated, and I love yall so much. Have a good day bebes. 🫶❤️

*********

You were embarrassed, to say the least, and annoyed and frustrated. For all of your life, you could never do that one thing that was a simple skill for most people, a simple and usually essential at that. You couldn't swallow pills for the life of you. Many frustrated mornings, well into your early adult years, were spent at the breakfast table with your parents, growing more and more impatient and irritated at your ‘talent’ for not being able to swallow pills no matter how hard you tried. And It's not like you didn't want to swallow pills. No, not at all. 

In fact you wish you could, it would have made your life a hell of lot easier. You would take swallowing pills over having to grind up the assorted pills for hayfever and vitamins into your drink and being forced to intigest the horrible tasting yet beneficial substances, the ones that made your eyes water and your stomach gurgle with just how bad they tasted. 

And trust me you had tried everything, sticking the pill right down your throat, damn near breaking your neck with the force you tilted your head back (to catch your gag reflex “off guard”) nearly watering boarding yourself a couple times, thinking the more water you swallow the easier right? You felt like the oblong white tablets were just ridiculing you at this point. 

You had achieved so much in your life yet you were brought down by your inability to swallow a tiny little thing for your benefit. You had not managed to find a shortage of adults and family members alike telling you, “it's all in your head” and suggesting unwarranted advice. Advice you ended up trying over and over again, knowing it wouldn't work. “It's just like swallowing food” they would say. But you knew damn right it wasn't. I mean you couldn't even swallow gum, so how were you supposed to swallow this?!

Because of all these judgemental looks and passive aggressive comments when it came up in conversation that you couldn't swallow pills, you tended to avoid the topic of conversation completely. It wasn't till a handsome man named Joel Miller came into your life, did you finally manage feel comfortable and unjudged about your inability. 

It had been a while that the two of you had been dating, nearly a year and you had never felt happier. Recently you had moved into his place and had just unfinished packing. It was a peaceful morning in Joel’s and now your own house, the morning sun shining down, warming up the frosted green grass as the birds chirps and, the smell of fresh brewed coffee filled your nostrils. The two of you sat opposite each other, drinking in the peaceful morning. This movie-like paradise was soon brought down in mood as you remembered it was time to take your daily vitamins and tablets. 

You sighed, a frown growing on your face as you anticipated yet another painful morning attempting to swallow some tablets. Joel's face mimics yours when he looks over at you from across the breakfast table. 

“What’s wrong baby?” He asked, concerned.

You sigh before explaining yourself.

“I just..I just suck at swallowing pills and I almost always end up having to crush them into a drink or whatever I'm eating and then it's disgusting. I know I'm an adult, I should be able to swallow them by now but I just can’t.” 

You try to blink away the tears from frustration as you talk, not wanting Joel to see you get so upset over something so little and stupid.

He listens with a soft frown on his face and you half expect him to scoff at you and belittle you for not being able to do something so easy. Then he locks eyes with you and sees your watery eyes and instantly his face softens.

“Aww baby, come here.” He holds out his arms and you quickly get up walking round the table to straddle his lap, burying your face into his shoulder, seeking his warming embrace to comfort you. You look up at him, when you feel the tears aren't going to spill out.

“You're not making fun of me or think that I'm being a baby?” 

He cups your face, forcing you to keep his warm gaze. “Now what would make you think that I thought that darling?” He questions.

You feel your throat constricting as you try to explain yourself, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment.

“I don't know���I just thought maybe before… you were frowning cause you don’t believe me or something.” You softly respond, embarrassed over the state you're in all over some silly little pills.

“Sweetheart of course I believe ya. I was frowning cause I hate to see my girl upset and struggling, and I was trying to think of some way to help ya.”

You sigh with relief, before resting your head back on Joel's shoulder, you sit there holding each other for a while before you're interrupted by the soft rocking back and forth of Joel's chest as he tries to quietly chuckle underneath you. 

“What’s so funny.” You ask, feeling a little irritated.

“Oh, nothing.” He responds, still with a wide grin.

“No, tell me.” You say, pouting.

He clears his throat and before he speaks in a dark tone, close to your ear sending shivers all throughout your body.

“Just thought of how good of a girl you are when you suck my dick, and how you don’t seem to have a problem swallowing my cum, do ya honey?”

Your eyes widen with the sudden lewd topic of conversation, your cheeks heat up and you lightly slap his chest.

“Joel!” you warn him, but you can't help but let the corners of your mouth lift up a little.

“That's different though.” You say quietly after a beat.

“Oh yeah? Why's that?” His eyes pierced through you, waiting for your answer.

You feel your cunt fluttering at his question, your panties dampening.

“Cause…cause I actually want to swallow your cum.” You softly admit.

He breathes in shakily as a growl-like sound softly rips through his chest. His head falls back and he slowly grinds up into your needy clothed cunt. 

“My dirty little cum slut, aren't you baby?” He groans as he cups your face with his hand.

You nod and he puts his thumb on your bottom lip, slowly dragging it downwards. Your tongue shoots out to lick it before your head dips it to take it into your mouth. You start sucking on it, needily. Needing to have some part of Joel in you.

“Needy too, apparently. Just how I like ya.” He murmurs to mostly himself as he pushes his fingers in deeper and pushes down on your tongue.

Your cunt is throbbing now, but the only thing you can think of right now is taking Joel’s fat cock into your mouth. You try and tell Joel as his thick fingers are stuffed in your mouth, so it ends up coming out as a garbled mess.

“What was that baby?” Joel teases you.

“W-wanna sl-suck your c-cock d-Joel.” 

“Can’t get enough of this fat dick down your throat can you sweetheart?” Joel growls as he removes his fingers.

You shake your head, your hands trailing over Joel's strong chest and biceps. You suck on the spot on his neck that drives him crazy, his hips start lightly thrusting up into you as a result. You grin devilishly, seeing and feeling Joel become a vulnerable mess, under your control is one of your favourite sights in the world. 

You slowly make your way down Joel's body, feeling and touching on every part of him that you can, except where you and him both want too most. When your knees finally hit the floor, you look up at him with an innocent smile. Although Joel knows your the exact opposite, he can’t help his breath stuttering and his heart racing at the stunning sight below him.

You bite your lip as you look to Joel belt, his prominent bulge just below it, silently asking for permission. He nods, spreading his legs wider. You place your hands on his knees and slowly trace your hand over his legs up to his hips, your eyes switching between looking up at Joel and his bulge that has your mouth watering. 

You unbuckle his belt, slowly, loving to tease him. But taking your time and going slow seems to make you more impatient than Joel himself, so you make quick work of unzipping his jeans and shucking them down his thick thighs, while your mouth waters. You swallow harshly, as you uncover Joel's thick and rock-hard package perfectly framed by his black boxers. 

Reaching below his elastic waistband to pull out his cock, you find yourself transfixed once again by his beautiful cock, tip flush dark red, shaft slightly curling upwards as it heavily bobs, just begging to be sucked. Your tongue darts out to slicken your lips. Your hand carefully grasps his length, Joel softly gasps, before your thumb traces over his slit and the white drop of precum, oozing out of it. 

You grin as you lower your head, placing a few teasing kisses around his head before you raise his cock up high enough that you can lick from between his balls all the way up to his slit. He shudders above you, his hand gently caressing your hair, grounding himself and connecting himself more to you, as if his dick in your mouth isn't enough. 

You let your saliva gather to the front of your mouth before slightly parting your lips to let the warm glob drip onto his flesh. You see his thighs flex from the corner of your eye as your palm encases him, spreading your moisture all over the veiny muscle. Starting out with slow hard strokes, and building it up faster, your hand struggles to meet around his girth. 

Your mouth finally latches onto his tip, tongue swirling around the bulbous head, making Joel groan deeply. You help unleash even more depraved sounds from deep in Joel's chest when your other hand reaches out to massage his hefty balls. All this encompassing stimulation has Joel racing towards the edge, his mouth spewing out dirty words and praises as he comes oh so close to his high.

“Ugh. Fuck yeah. Atta girl.”

“Just like that baby. F-fuck me that feels g-good.” 

“Fuck… I love the feel of your hot, wet mouth on my cock.”

“Going to make my heart go out on me, with how fucking heavenly your making me feel, baby.”

He clenches the muscles in his body as he tries to starve off his release long as possible, needing to tell you something first.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I-I’m going to need you to hold all my cum in your mouth baby when I finish-h. C-can you do that for me s-sweet girl?” He chokes out.

You nod slightly and moan around him, before returning to bobbing wildly on his pulsing cock. Loving the salty, musky taste of him, your pussy clenches thinking about the even more salty and delicious load soon to be filling your mouth.

You take him as deep he will go, your eyes tearing up as your throat constricts around him. You feel his balls tighten under your hand and you let his cock out ever so slightly so only his tip is encased by your stretched lips.

And before you know it Joel’s coming, a long string of curse words and moans pouring out his mouth as he does so. Your hand continues to stroke him, milking him for all he's worth. Till he is hissing through his teeth, his now spent cock sensitive and raw. 

The urge to swallow his spend is strong, but your need to listen to and please Joel stands stronger. You keep it all in your mouth, cheeks bulging out a little with how full they are.

Joel, still breathing heavily, bends over you so he can inspect your warming checks and watery eyes, you look completely wrecked and he loves it. He hums in delight seeing you patiently sitting beneath him waiting for his next instruction.

He reaches over the table to where you were sitting before leaning down closer to you again. His thumb and forefinger reaches out and takes a hold of your chin, tilting it a bit higher.

“Did so good for me sweet girl, but I need you to do one more thing for me, okay?” He whispers, his warm and inviting eyes making you melt further into the floor.

You nod in response, watching his other hand come down in front of your face, opening up to reveal your pills. He softly demands you to open your mouth, to which you oblige, before carefully placing the few pills into your cum filled mouth.

He tilts up chin so your mouth closes and seals your lips with his thumb, before moving his hand to the side of your jaw, rubbing soft circles over your cheekbone.

“Okay, I'm going to need you to be a good girl and swallow that for me.”

You give the best soft smile you can muster with a mouth full of cum before you begin to swallow Joel’s cum in small amounts, your eyes fluttering close in concentration.

 “That's it…. Good girl. Swallow it all, baby. Don’t wanna waste a drop do ya now?” He encourages you, eyes transfixed to your throat swallowing all of his cum and the pills.

The pills going down so easily you didn't feel them shocks you, as you open your eyes to a smiling, starry-eyed Joel looking down at you softly. A wide smile mimicking his, spreads over your face, before you open your mouth to reveal it, now empty, to Joel.

He reaches down to pick you up from your armpits, placing you on his lap again. You giggle as he places lots of kisses all over your face and nuzzles his nose into yours.

“I’m so proud of you my sweet, darling girl. Did so good.”

“Thank you, Joel.” You coo back, sighing softly with relief and happiness over your achievement.

“Guess we know now how to get you to swallow your pills every morning, don't we baby?” Joel teases you, holding you close to his chest as he kisses your temple.

“Indeed we do.” You reply, giggling, before resting your head on Joel's warm and sturdy chest, basking in the love and warmth of your lover.

***********

#joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction

[miniwheat77]

Red Lipstick. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, age gap, not very much plot, (sorry if I missed any.)

This is not edited just yet XD

A groan leaves your lips as you’re walking away from him. Soap is harassing you again.

“Oh come on, you’re still not going?” He asks.

“Absolutely not. I’ll find a way out of it.” You roll your eyes. He chuckles. Captain Price happens to be walking out of his office as the both of you pass by. “You’re not getting out of it.” He mumbles. “Son of a bitch. Please Captain, don’t make me go.” You groan. “It’s the dinner or I ask Soap to shoot you in the leg.” He laughs. “Wait, that’s it?” You say.

Captain Price looks entirely defeated. “No, Jesus Christ it was just a joke.” He laughs. Soap continues down the hallway as you talk to your Captain. “Come on. My family isn’t going to be there. There’s no reason I need to be there.” You whine. “Y/N, sweetheart.” He chuckles. “You have to go, those are my direct orders. My family won’t be there either. If nothing else, you can stay by my side the entire time.” He laughs. “Alright fine. But I’m going to bug you all night.” You mumble. “Fine by me, because you bug me anyways.” He shoves you with his elbow lightly and you roll your eyes. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, John.” You smirk, walking away from him. He rolls his eyes. When he steps into his room, he presses his back up against the door behind himself and rubs his eyes with a sigh. “Still on your ass huh?” Gaz laughs. He scares the life out of his Captain, John jumping and reaching for his gun instinctively but stops himself. “Jesus Christ Garrick, the hell are you doing in here?” He groans. “Can’t get away from any of you.” He mumbles. “If you want her to like you back, you’re going to have to try harder than that.” He smirks. “For the last time Kyle, I don’t like her.” He groans. “You’re a horrible liar.” He groans. “Alright, even if I did like her, she’s half my damn age and would never go for someone like me. So this conversation is over.” He opens his door and motions for Gaz to step out. “You’ll never know unless you try old man.” Gaz laughs.

John rolls his eyes. Gaz walks out and he’s left there alone.

The way his name comes off of your lips, it’s like a drug. Even if you are saying it sarcastically to get under his skin. Gaz is right. He likes you. He’s pretty sure he’s fallen in love with you. He’s worked with you before. When he first thought about the task force, you were chosen immediately. Not only were you skilled in every way, but he adored you.

—

“Ugh. Please tell me I can miss it, I hate this.” You groan, barging right into your Captains room. You hear him laugh, he’s in his bathroom. The door is open so you assume he’s fixing his hair or something. “You’re going to be fine.” He laughs. You groan out. He walks out of his bathroom, walking toward his nightstand for his items that he usually carried with him. Picking them up and shoving them into his pocket. “Nothing about this is fine.” You groan again. “You are so pathetic, I never knew you could complain this much.” He laughs. He turns around, breath hitching in his throat. His eyes go wide and he kicks himself for not looking at you sooner. “Wow.” He laughs. Your cheeks go red, and you look away from his watchful eyes, curling into yourself. “You look very beautiful Y/N.” He smiles. “Thank you. But I hate this.” You walk into his room further, making yourself at home on his bed. You were much different from any other soldier on his task force. You were so comfortable around him. Always came into his room or his office with any issues you had, always talked to him the most out of everyone. He assumed with how much older he was than you that maybe you just saw him as a father figure and that bothered him. He had so much to say, so many feelings for you but he didn’t want to ruin this friendship that he thought he had built with you. He imagines that it’s all in his head. That you must be like this with everyone else, that he’s reading into it too much. But for now, he’d hold onto it. He’d imagine that in this massive world full of so many people that it’s just you and him. He’s okay with that.

You lay down on your stomach on his bed, picking up a little picture frame that’s sitting on his nightstand, looking at it. You smile, seeing the picture in it is a group photo of the task force. You can see your reflection in it, tugging the small tube of lipstick from where you had tucked it away and carefully applying it while he finished getting ready. When you sit up again, his eyes travel to you again, you were wearing a dress, something he’d never seen you in before. When he realizes you’ve put on bright red lipstick, his heart nearly stops in his chest and he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking to the ground. “S-so uh.. you ready to go to the hall?” He asks. “Yeah, I suppose so.” You mumble. Standing up and following him out.

Throughout the night, you stick by your Captains side. You were the only two that didn’t have any family showing up to these events. Everyone is settling in with their families, they haven’t seen them in months. You and your captain give them privacy and time for themselves. You’re both leaning up against the wall outside, it has gotten warm inside and you decided to take a breather. “So.. why couldn’t Mrs. Price be here?” You ask. “Because there isn’t one.” He laughs. “Oh?” You look up at him. “Hard to keep relationships in this kind of job, sweetheart.” He laughs. “You got that right.” You smile, looking down at your feet. “Are you glad you came?” He asks. “No, not really. Seeing everyone else with their families.. it just hurts my feelings.” You laugh. “Yeah, me too. But you got to spend time with the coolest person around so it wasn’t too big of a loss.” He winks. You smile at him. After a few more minutes of silence, he breaks it again. “You don’t have a boyfriend or anyone? Not even one person that’ll show up to these?” He asks. “No, just like you I learned my lesson about relationships in this job pretty early on. They either go so well or crash and burn.” You laugh. “Yeah.. you’re right.” He rests his head back against the wall. He wants to scream. Yell until his voice is scratchy, scream out loud how much he likes you, how much he adores you. “I like red on you, compliments your skin.” He smiles. “Thank you. I didn’t take you for a suit guy either but you pull it off well.” You smile. He laughs. “Thank you. It’s not really my thing.”

“Yeah, this isn’t mine either.” You laugh. “I’d much rather be wearing a baggy shirt and sleeping right about now.” He smiles. “Why don’t you go back to my room and wait for me? I’ll finish up here, we’ll watch a movie or something. Take your mind off things.” He smiles.

“That sounds amazing.” You smile. He puts out his cigar, stepping back inside. You make your way back to the base.

Captain Price says his good nights to everyone, telling everyone how they can help him out by cleaning up after themselves and than finally excusing himself.

You got caught up talking to Soap as you passed by him, and when Captain Price approached, he made conversation with the both of you as well. Until of course Soap needed to get back to his girlfriend. You walked along with Captain Price to his room, and he opens the door for you to step inside. When he closes the door, you feel different. Something feels off. “You want a shirt of mine to wear?” He asks. “I could just go get one of my own-“

“Nonsense. You’re already here.” He smiles. He passes it to you and once it’s in your hands, the air feels thick. You quickly go into his bathroom, changing out of your dress and into the baggy shirt. You aren’t sure why you’re nervous around him, he’s your Captain, you’ve never been nervous before. You step out of the bathroom and see him sliding a t-shirt over his head, the muscles on his back flexing as he pulls it over himself. Your stomach falls, turning your head away from him with a gulp. What the fuck? Since when did you start feeling this way toward him? You can feel the heat pooling in your panties and you contemplate going back into the bathroom. Worried since you’re only wearing his shirt. “You don’t have to hang out with me you know.” He smiles, looking at you. He moves closer to you, only now do you realize how he towers over you. “Why wouldn’t I?” You laugh nervously. “Just.. seems boring. I’m your Captain. Way older than you.” He smiles. You look down, nervously playing with your fingers. “Age gaps never bothered me. I get along with everyone just the same.” You blush. He narrows his eyes. Stepping toward you. You freeze up and he reaches up, cupping one side of your face and leaning into you. You freeze up, for a minute, you think he’s going to kiss you. He raises his thumb up to wipe away the lipstick you’ve smeared, the way that you react to him doesn’t go unnoticed. He notices the way you stiffen up, eyes glancing to his lips. Maybe you want him too.

He knows he’s got to be imagining things. He wipes the lipstick off, following the line of your lip to know where to wipe. “There. Fixed it.” Your cheeks are burning when he steps away. You needed to get a hold of yourself, he’s your Captain for christs sake.

You don’t know where the feelings are suddenly flooding in from. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s been nothing but absolutely kind to you since the day he met you. He always tries to make you feel included because he sees you getting left out when the other guys are doing something. I mean hell, he could’ve been chatting with anybody during the military ball, but instead he was standing next to you. Keeping you company because he knew how much you hated it, how uncomfortable you felt. He let you treat him like a best friend, not your Captain. You walked into his room anytime you wanted and he never complained. He always made you feel at him, and during missions.

He always reassured you, and did everything he could to keep you safe.

“Uh.. earth to Y/N. You okay?” He asks. “Oh. Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” Your cheeks are burning. “Something bothering you?” He asks.

Ugh, curse him and his kindness.

“No, I’m okay. I was just enjoying not being in that damn dress anymore.” You smile. He rolls his eyes. “You’re such a brat.”

You make your way toward him, sitting down next to him in his bed. You pull his shirt down, trying to cover yourself up the best you can as he messes with his IPad. You’ve sat next to him during dinner watching videos before so this isn’t out of the ordinary.

As the movie goes on, you’re getting more comfortable, eventually laying on your side next to him, not realizing that his shirt has ridden up over your hip slightly. He’s noticed though. He moves himself down the bed too, and you move up closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. John hates it, he knows how wrong it is for him to react this way but his body betrays him, he’s painfully hard in his sweatpants and he’s pulled the blanket up and over him to hide it. He feels like a pervert when it comes to you. Because you’re so sweet and kind. Confiding in him, trusting him. But all he can think about is how you must sound. With his head buried between your thighs, squirming underneath him. Moaning out his name. You’ve got to sound so pretty.

He can’t take it anymore.

He adjusts the way he’s laying, propping himself up onto his elbow. He pauses the movie and lays it down. He’s looking at you. “Everything okay Captain?” You ask. “Yeah.. I just..” he sighs. Reaching his hand out and placing it onto your hip. Just below your panty line. You glance down, lips parting. Your eyes get a little wider, and you look up at him. He tugs you toward him, leaning into you. “You can stop me.” He breathes. He’s surprised by your silence. He’s leaning into you. This is it, he’s going to kiss you.

You take him completely by surprise, meeting him halfway and wrapping an arm around his neck as you jump to kiss him. John feels almost as if his body lights on fire. He pulls you closer to him, his fingers on your bare skin is driving him fucking crazy. He kisses you, and you move a little more, until you’re straddling his hips, resting your hands on his chest as you kiss him. The desperation is apparent, throwing you both into another Galaxy as you kiss each other. You moan into his lips when he raises his hips up into yours, you can feel how hard he is. When you pull away, you look down at him. Seeing that his eyes look darker than usual, the look in them is something you’ve never seen before. Pure lust and adoration. “I like you, Y/N.” He breathes. “I have for a long time.”

“I like you too.” You breathe.

The way you’re staring at him, lipstick smeared beyond repair this time. Bambi eyes full of lust. He knows this is it. He’s going to make you his. He pulls you into him again, kissing you even harder than the last. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re grinding your hips down into him. He moans into your mouth moving his hands down to tug his sweatpants down, boxers going with them. He doesn’t move his lips from yours for even a second. You’re grinding against him, the only keeping you from him is your thin panties.

Enough is enough.

He doesn’t realize what you’re doing, moving your panties to the side and raising yourself up.

He doesn’t realize it, not until you’re swallowing him up. He moans into your lips. Pulling away to watch you lower yourself onto him. A whine leaves his lips, something you never imagined you’d ever hear before. “Oh fuck- you feel so good.” He breathes. When you’ve slid down onto him completely, hips resting against his. Your thighs shiver. He’s big. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with. It makes it hard to move yourself onto him. He touches up against places inside that you didn’t know were there.

You raise yourself up, trying your hardest to stay quiet. A mewl leaves your lips and you’re trying to steady yourself. “Ah-“ you smile, biting your lip. Resting your hands on his chest. “Struggling?” He smiles up at you. “Yeah just not used to you.” You moan as he lifts his hips up into you. Your legs buckle and you rest on him again. “Fuck!” You gasp. He smiles, grasping hold of your hips and rolling over until your underneath him. “You’ll get used to me baby.” He breathes. He pushes your thighs up, holding you steady as he starts to rock his hips into yours. You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes rolling back. Something about watching you fall apart beneath him sends sparks shooting through him. He reaches up, grasping your hand and tugging it away from your mouth, his pupils are blown out. You can tell he’s waited a long time for this. “I don’t care who hears. I’ve waited too long for this to give a shit.” He draws his hips back, thrusting back into you. A gasp leaves your lips, he’s figured you out so quickly, knowing the inside of you like the back of his hand. Thrusting relentlessly into your spongy spot. You can’t keep yourself quiet as he hammers his hips into yours.

He’s focused, knowing now that if he makes you feel good enough, you’ll be his.

You go quiet beneath him, eyes staring between the both of you. You’re watching his cock disappear into your weepy pussy before reappearing. Wet with your arousal. He smiles, admiring the way you clutch onto his arm for dear life as you watch intently. “You like watching me fuck you, darling?” He breathes. You look up at him, nodding your head. “I like it too, getting so wet.” He groans. The squelch from him entering your drenched cavern makes him want to drool. It’s too much. He can feel his lower stomach clenching up, his high is approaching fast. He’s drawing you into him which is exactly what he wants. He knows if he makes you feel good enough, you’ll get addicted to him. He wants you, all to himself. “John- I… I’m gonna cum.” You pant. Looking up at him. He lifts a hand from your thigh, holding your chin to force you to look at him. “Look at me darling, I want you to look at me when you cum.” He breathes, holding you to look at him. You lock eyes with him, deep in thought as he pushes you closer to your high with each thrust into your spongy spot. A couple more thrusts and he’s sending you right over the edge, a cry leaving your lips. You almost miss the groan that leaves his lips when he reached his own high. Completely forgetting to pull out of you. A couple more thrusts to ride out your high is all he can handle before your clamping around him is too much to bare. He slides out of you, earning a gasp from you.

He moves himself next to you, toying with the hem of his shirt you’ve got on. “Suppose we should talk about this ah?” He smiles.

You nod your head, crimson creeping up your cheeks. Just as he’s about to start, a knock at his door drags him away from you. “Jesus.” He groans. He quickly adjusts himself. “Wait J-“ he opens the door before you get the chance to earn him, “Garrick, what do you want?” He asks. Gaz has a smirk on his face. “Just wanted to say congrats,”

“What? For what?”

“For becoming a man, Cap.”

John rolls his eyes at him, going to close the door, “nice lipstick by the way.” Gaz says as John closes the door.

John’s eyes widen, he’d forgotten about your lipstick. “Fuuuuck.” He groans. “Such a nosy bloke.” He starts rubbing the lipstick off of himself. You giggle at him. “Tried to warn you.” You mumble. “Oh well.” He laughs.

He makes his way over to you, sitting down next to you. “I uh.. I’ll understand if you want this to be a one time thing.” He breathes. You take in a deep breath. “I don’t want that.” You mumble. “So what do you want to do darling? You’re going to catch a lot of shit from people if they ever find out you’re with someone as old as me.” He nudges you. He smiles. “I’m good at dealing with people.” You smile. He rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’re a brat.” He laughs. “Yeah? It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it.” You smirk.

“Oh? Really?” He smiles, reaching a hand out and pushing you back into the bed, “I’ll show you what I do to bratty girls.” He smirks.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut

[rubysunnday]

did she have a cookie?

requested by anon: I would like to request a Bridgerton!sis imagine in which the reader drinks the tea that Benedict had mixed the powder thinking of it as ordinary tea. And Colin and Benedict try to keep her out of trouble. And she gets emotional at the end. A fluffy ending. Thank you

a/n: just like editing, i cannot make a just happy fic

summary: Don't drink the tea unless you want to have a trip of a lifetime

Summer at Aubery Hall was always enjoyable. The late nights spent outdoors, playing games until the sun had long gone - being able to gallop across the fields without stopping.

It all brought Y/N so much joy and excitement. But, naturally, her mother had to ruin it with the mention of suitors and marriage and all the grown-up things Y/N didn't want to think about.

Since she'd woken up that morning, she had been avoiding her mother. Y/N had skipped breakfast, hidden in the library, and was now up near the nursery, searching for anyone to free her from her bordem.

She could hear Colin and Benedict in the nursery and approached the door, wanting to know what they were on about.

"What are you two doing?"

Colin turned in his chair to face the nursery door. "Talking, why, what are you doing?"

"Avoiding our mother," Y/N grumbled, walking further into the nursery. "She will not stop talking about suitors and marriage and it is driving me insane."

Colin pulled out the chair to his left and Y/N sat down in it with a huff, crossing her ankles. "You look like Eloise when you do that."

"Of course I do, she is my twin," Y/N snapped. Coline raised his eyebrows and Y/N groaned. "Sorry."

"Is she truly that awful?" Benedict asked, pouring Y/N a cup of tea before leaning back in his chair.

Yes. "No. Well, yes, but I know she means well. I just want to enjoy our time here before we return to London and society and -"

"All the joys that come with it?" Colin suggested.

Y/N nodded. She sat up in her chair, leaning forward. "She does not pester you two."

"Probably because we are men," Benedict replied. "Besides, Colin is not here enough for her to pester him."

Colin smirked, bringing his tea to his lips. "That was my plan all along, dear brother."

Y/N sighed, reaching for her tea. "I understand that this is my entire future but," she sipped the tea, "would it truly be so awful if I became a spinster? I hate society anyway."

Benedict looked thoughtful for a moment. "It would be lonely, I think. Always on the outskirts of events. From what I have seen - and been told - there is not really any place for an unmarried woman in society."

"That seems like society's problem," Y/N muttered. She blew on her tea and took another sip. "Not mine." Y/N hesitated, holding her cup close. "Marriage scares me."

Colin and Benedict shared a look.

"Not like that you idiots," Y/N hissed, catching their look. "I know enough about that. I meant in the way that I have to spend the rest of my life with this one person - unless they die of course... we can always hope."

"Where are you going with this, Y/N?" Benedict asked wairly.

"What if the person I marry starts off lovely but then turns into a horrible human being?" She asked.

Colin sighed softly. "Then, we would sort something out. There is always a solution, one way or another."

Y/N drained her tea, grimacing at the aftertaste. "Urgh, Benedict, you need to work on your tea-making skills, this is disgusting."

"What are you own about?" Benedict asked, frowning. "You love my tea."

"Well, not this one. It was disgusting," Y/N said, setting the cup down and pushing it away.

Benedict looked at the cup. His eyes slowly widened as he realised that there was another cup directly next to it, still full of steaming tea. "That was my tea."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Colin, she drank the tea," Benedict said, slowly, looking at his brother.

Y/N frowned. "It is the same tea. Is it... not?"

Colin opened his mouth and then promptly closed it again. He turned to his sister. "How do you feel?"

"Fine. Brother, you are scaring me slightly."

"No, no, it is nothing to worry about," Colin replied quickly. "I think," he added quietly. "It is just that I gave Benedict this new tea I brought back from my travels and it has a certain... effect on an individual."

Y/N blinked. "Colin Bridgerton, did you just drug me?"

"No, no, no, I drugged Benedict."

"And inadvertently drugged me!" Y/N exclaimed. "Oh, my god, we have dinner with the Sharma's and Lady Danbury tonight. Colin, is there a way to reverse it?"

"Well, I assume throwing up would work, but I fear it might be too late," Colin replied, trying not to laugh.

"Colin, don't you dare laugh," Y/N snapped. "This is not funny!"

"Alright, both of you calm down," Benedict said, holding his hands out. "Y/N, you will be fine. Will keep an eye on you and stop you from making a fool of yourself."

"That does not reassure me in any way," she grumbled. "Fine. But do not tell Anthony or mama, I am embarrassed enough as it is."

"If they find out we shall simply blame Colin," Benedict told her, patting her hand sympathetically. "I blame Colin a lot, it makes my life easier."

"I am still in the room!" Colin exclaimed.

"Fine," Y/N grumbled. "But if I start going mad, please just knock me out or something."

High Y/N was not something Benedict nor Colin had been prepared for.

It had taken about twenty minutes for the drug to actually start working. At first, it had just been like she was a little tipsy. A stumble here, a giggle there. But then the tipsy turned to drunk and soon it became clear that Y/N was high as... well, a high person.

"Mother is going to kill us," Colin muttered, holding Y/N's arm tightly.

Benedict nodded. "As is Anthony," he added. "Why does this house have so many stairs?"

Y/N missed a step and both brothers lurched forward, catching her before she lost her balance entirely. Their younger sister just giggled, swaying happily between them.

"Benny, you have such pretty eyes," Y/N said, her voice unusually high-pitched. "Oh, look, that's gorgeous."

Y/N freed herself from her brothers and dashed down the final few steps, rushing over to a bronze statue. Benedict winced, fully expecting her to fall flat on her face as she jumped the last step, but Y/N kept her balance.

"Y/N, do not," Colin swooped over and took the statue from her, "touch the statue."

Y/N crossed her arms and looked grumpily at her brother. "You have gotten meaner since you came back."

Colin gaped at his sister. "Excuse you!"

"What, it's true! You are incredibly annoying!"

Y/N turned on her heel and flounced down the corridor, heading towards the dining room. Benedict took one look at his brother - who still looked incredibly offended - and snorted.

"Don't take it personally, brother," he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Does she actually mean that?"

"Everyone means it."

Colin shot his brother a withering look. "Come on, before she breaks something."

Somehow, Benedict and Colin managed to arrange the seating so that Y/N was sat in between them, opposite Eloise and Miss Sharma - but far away from Anthony and Miss Edwina. They were both hoping it would minimise the chaos caused and mean that Anthony was none the wiser.

"Peas make me sad."

"What?" Colin asked, turning his head sharply to look at his sister. "Peas?"

Y/N nodded, gently prodding a pea with her fork. "They are such a sad vegetable. It must be quite lonely to be a pea."

Eloise stared at her twin across the table, utterly confunded. She looked at Benedict and Colin, reading their shared glance in an instant. "What did you two idiots do to her?" She whispered.

"We didn't do anything," Benedict whispered back. "She drank the wrong tea."

"Please explain," Eloise said, raising her eyebrows.

Benedict sighed. "Colin had this tea -"

"That makes you feel like you're floating on a piece of grass?" Kate cut in, keeping her voice quiet.

Colin blinked at her. "You know it?"

"I tried it once. I ended up floating on my back in a river because I thought I was flying."

Eloise turned from Kate. "You drugged my sister?"

"Our sister."

"At this moment in time she's mine," Eloise told him. "You two drugged her."

"We did not -"

"Miss Sharma, you look very beautiful tonight," Y/N said dreamily, resting her chin on her hand as she stared at Kate.

Kate pressed her lips together tightly, trying not to laugh. "Why thank you, Miss Y/N."

"I wish my brother would just admit he lo-"

Benedict leant over and clamped a hand over Y/N's mouth, drowning out the rest of her sentence. He knocked his knife off his plate and onto the floor, the noise temporarily silencing the dining room.

"Everything alright, Benedict?" Violet asked warily, glancing over at him.

"Fine, mother," Benedict replied, quickly letting go of Y/N. "I knocked my knife."

After a few more wary glances their way, everyone eventually went back to their conversations.

"Our dear sister evidently does not have a filter," Colin muttered, picking up Benedict's knife and handing it to him.

"I only hope dinner ends before she talks to Miss Edwina," Benedict replied, slapping Y/N's hand gently as she went for his potatoes. "Otherwise Anthony may murder us."

Luckily for both brothers, Y/N's dream-like state was beginning to wear off. Instead, they were faced with an overly-emotional Y/N whose body was trying to detox from a drug she'd never had before.

The rest of dinner passed uneventfully. Anthony made a speech which Y/N didn't so much as acknowledge - she was too busy staring mournfully into a candle - and then everyone excused themselves, almost all deciding to retire for the night.

"She looks so sad," Y/N said softly.

Benedict turned, seeing that his sister had stopped halfway up the stairs. "Who does?"

Y/N pointed up at a painting high up on the wall. "She looks so very sad."

Benedict looked up at Colin, who just shrugged. With a sigh, Benedict pivoted and jogged back down the stairs, standing next to his sister.

He looked up at the painting, one he hadn't necessarily realised was there before and squinted slightly. "I suppose so, yes."

"I always see her when I leave my room," Y/N continued, her voice small, "yet I never asked who she is." She looked up at her brother. "Is that what will happen to me?"

"What will?"

"I'll just be... forgotten about? No one will ask who I am when they look at my portrait?"

Benedict stumbled over his words for a moment. "I... Y/N, I don't think -"

"If you think about it, I suppose that's all we are," Y/N said quietly, her voice catching occasionally. She sat down on the steps and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her hands around her ankles. "All that is left of our father is a painting in the study."

And suddenly, the amusement of the night vanished. Benedict felt like the air had been sucked right out of him. He looked up at Colin and cursed quietly when he saw his brother had vanished.

"Y/N..." Benedict sighed, sitting down beside her. He clasped his hands together, glancing at the signet ring on his little finger. "Father is not just a painting. He is in this house, he's in all of us... he's in Anthony's infuriating pocket watch -"

"But the image of him is gone. All we have is an artist's impression that probably is not even that accurate," Y/N countered. "I know he is still here but I do not remember what he looks like. Because the painting is just that - a painting. Someone's depiction of him as Viscount Bridgerton. Not my dad."

Benedict closed his eyes. He had nothing to say to his sister because she was right - as always. Memories are fleeting and the mind can warp things in many different ways. How his sister remembered their father was possibly entirely different to how Benedict remembered him - how Anthony remembered him.

"I would like to go to bed now," Y/N said softly, lifting her head up and looking at Benedict.

"Of course."

Benedict stood up and held out a hand to Y/N, pulling her to her feet. They walked up the rest of the stairs, side by side, in silent company. Y/N only spoke once - and that was to utter a small night to Benedict as she headed to her bedroom.

Utterly stumped, Benedict exhaled slowly, putting his hands on his waist. He dropped his head, looking down at the floor.

"Where is she?"

"Well she was - oh."

"Oh?"

"Well, she was here!"

"Colin Bridgerton, I swear -"

Benedict leant over the bannisters. "What are you two doing?"

Anthony and Colin both looked up at him. Colin had evidently found Anthony in his study for his older brother was wearing nothing but his dress shirt and trousers, looking utterly exhausted with a slight hint of concern. Benedict stared at them expectantly.

"Where's Y/N?" Anthony asked, taking the stairs two at a time.

Benedict glanced at Colin. "Did you tell him -"

"Of course, he told me!" Anthony exclaimed, raising his voice only slightly, not wanting to wake the rest of the household up. "Y/N is his soft spot - of course, he buckled and told me. Where is she?"

Benedict nodded at the door behind him. "She went to bed. Anthony, I didn't say anything to bring it on -"

"No, it's fine. I've been expecting someone to have a moment about father whilst we're here - grief is unpredictable." Anthony wanted to add I would know but decided against it. "I had mine this morning."

"The grave?" Colin asked softly.

Anthony nodded tightly. "I am still incredibly pissed that you two drugged her."

"We didn't -"

"You were going to drug him," Anthony snapped, pointing at Colin and then at Benedict. "You, shush." He softened slightly, adding, "but thank you for looking after her."

Benedict gave him a tiny smile. "She's not asleep," he said, pointing at the door.

"I know, she's not."

Anthony brushed past his brother and knocked quietly on Y/N's door. He waited a few seconds before he opened it, stepping inside with gentle footsteps.

"They told you?"

His sister's voice was quiet. She was curled up on the top corner of her bed, hugging a pillow and looking out the window. Her dress was still on and she'd had a half-hearted attempt at taking her hair down. Anthony slowly walked over to her, perching himself on the edge of her bed.

"Colin has a soft spot for you."

Y/N smiled half-heartedly. She picked at the tassels on the corner of her pillow, looking out at the grounds. "I knew coming back here would be hard," she said quietly, "because it always is. I just did not expect this year to be so difficult. I suppose being high does not help."

Anthony nodded. He crossed his ankles, exhaling softly. "When we first returned here after... after the incident, it was incredibly difficult. His presence is still here - I can almost feel him watching me, sometimes."

"I went into your study earlier, looking for you," Y/N said quietly. "That's when I saw the portrait. I have seen it before - there's one back in London as well. But it just occurred to me that... it is simply a depiction of him. Of him as a viscount, not him as a father."

"I see." Anthony sighed. "That portrait looks down on me every single day of my life and I have studied it until my eyes went blurry. I sometimes look to it for advice - asking what would you do? But I know that it is not our father. It is simply Viscount Bridgerton. Our father smiled, for one."

Y/N ducked her head, smiling at that. Anthony pushed himself further back onto the bed and laid down next to her. Y/N rolled into his side, still hugging the pillow.

"I remember when Daphne first began to learn the pianoforte," Anthony continued, his hand absently tracing circles on Y/N's arm, "he used to dance around the room with you. He would lift you up and let you put your feet on top of his shoes and then you would do a waltz around the room together."

Y/N closed her eyes, a few tears escaping down onto her cheeks. "I wish I had something, so I knew what he looked like in those moments."

Anthony reached down to his waistcoat and pulled his father's watch out. He grabbed Y/N's hand and gently placed the object in her palm, folding her fingers over it.

"I carry this with me everywhere I go. It reminds me of him and it reminds me that he is still here - in the little things we all do. He had this on him every day of his life, up until he died. So, whilst it is not a painting, it is still something of him when he was our father."

Y/N rubbed her thumb along the back of it where EB was engraved. She sniffed softly, carefully dabbing under eyes. "Thank you. For this and for not getting mad at me for being high."

Anthony let out a breath of laughter, resting his chin on top of his sister's head. "Technically, you were not to blame for that."

"I thought the tea tasted weird."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to her hair. "You should get some sleep," he said, preparing to move.

Y/N grabbed his wrist. "Can you stay? If you are busy, you do not -"

"Of course, I will stay," Anthony said firmly, lying back down. Y/N smiled tiredly at him and his heart ached as he caught a glimpse of eleven-year-old Y/N, clinging on to him when he returned back after being away.

"You are the best brother," Y/N told him, reaching down and pulling her duvet up and over them both.

"Well, I am the only one who did not get you high."

"Gregory had no involvement but I am sure if he had been old enough, he would have been the instigator."

"Oh, of course, he would. You know, Greg actually shares father's love of pranks."

Y/N lifted her head, looking at Anthony. "Really?"

"Mmhm. He once put glue, in Benedict's shoes. Benedict was furious, naturally..."

Anthony proceed to tell Y/N all the stories he could of their father until her eyes could stay open no more and his voice was hoarse. He knew he was never going to be his father - but he hoped that he was close enough.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton sister #bridgerton!sis #bridgerton sis #bridgerton x platonic!reader #platonic #bridgerton platonic #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader

[profound-bouquetbird]

hii!!

do you mind writing hunter asking fem!reader to grom?

ty♡

Hello :D This one is kind of short but I hope you enjoy it

Edit: I may or may not have confused 'asking the reader to grom' 'and picking up the reader for grom'... But oh well, sorry for the mix up 😅 you can just yell at me to make another one

Hunter looked into the mirror, adjusting his tie nervously for the 100th time in the past 10 minutes. King stood on a stool next to him, tapping his foot on the stool in a pissed off mande as he looked at Hunter with furrowed brows

"How's it going?" Luz asked, peaking through the door with a wide smile as she wore her famous tuxedo with a pink tutu

"Horribly! He keeps messing up the tie!" King complained, pulling onto hunters sleeve as he adjusted his tie

"Sorry, I'm just... anxious." Hunter said, fiddling with the sleeves of his tuxedo, only to get his hand slapped by King as he stared at him with an angry expression and fixed his sleeves, making Hunter smile awkwardly

"Why are you anxious?" Luz asked, tilting her head as she walked in

"It's just... what if she makes fun of my looks?" He said, king scoffed and rolled his eyes

"Yeah, like she's going to make fun of my skill." King said, flipping his non-existent hair like a model, making Luz and hunter laugh quietly

"But, what if she thinks I'm trying too hard?" He said, his ears dropping slightly

"Oh please Hunter. Girls love it when you put effort into something." Luz said, patting her hair as she closed her eyes, grinning and crossing her arms proudly

"What if she thinks I'm cheesy?" He said. King and Luz stared at him with an 'are you serious' type of expression, "what?" He tilted his head in confusion

"Isn't she the one that tells you cheesy pick up lines when you're feeling insecure?" Luz said. Hunters face flushed read as he looked down at the ground

"Oh,,, yeah." He smiled to himself,the tips of his ears turning as red as his face. Luz shook her head and out her hands onto hunters shoulders

"Now, stop complaining. Pull your shi... stuff together, grab that bouquet of her favorite flowers and pick her up already!" She shook Hunter, Hunter laughed and grabbed her hands, pulling them off of his shoulders

"Thank you guys... you don't know how much this means to me." Hunter smiled. Luz and king smiled back

"Any time." Luz and king said at the sametime

"Jinx! Jinx again!" They pointed at each other. Hunter rolled his eyes with a smile as he grabbed the bouquet of flowers and left the room

------

Hunter was slowly approaching your house. Growing more and more anxious as your front door got closer and closer

His grip on the bouquet getting tighter and tighter as his heartbeat quickened. He started to sweat bullets, almost breaking the flowers from how tightly he was holding onto the flowers

He didn't really know why he was so nervous, he knew you weren't going to make fun of him. Maybe it was the stress of messing up, that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you

But it was too late to turn back now, his hand knocked on your front door and he patiently waited for someone to open it. He heard shuffling from the other side and the turning of a lock

The door handle shifted and the door opened, revealing Y/n. Hunter was stunned, his jaw almost dropping as he stared at you with wide eyes

"Oh, Hunter. I didn't expect you to come so early." You chuckled, making a h/c lock out if your face

"You look stunning." Hunter said under his breath, you bother looked at each other with stunned expressions. The tips of your ears and your cheeks turned pick as you laughed slightly, Hunter's eyes only widened as he turned red from embarrassment, "did I say that out loud?" Hunter said in a whistling voice, you nodded and Hunter's ears dropped slightly

"Well, I might say.. you look quite dazzling yourself Hunter." You chuckled, winking at him. Hunter turned even more red somehow as you let a laugh escape your lips, you opened your mouth do say something but Hunter revealed the bouquet of flowers, handing them over to you

"Forgot to give you those." Hunter laughed, you smiled at him. Your eyes filled with love and admiration as you walked over and kisses him on the cheek. Hunter was stunned, his hand slowly going up to the place you kissed as soon as you backed away

"I'm gonna go get my palisman. Wait here." You said, Hunter smiled lovingly at you and nodded as you rushed back into your house. He really did hit the jackpot, didn't he?

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #toh hunter x reader #toh x reader #fem reader

[ilydottie]

| Chapter One: Sweet Nightmare |

Chapter Warnings: Cecilia is a mess, Cecilia is so… stupid <3 (not really), Manipulation, Bullying and Ostracization, 2.3k words. 

A/n: I have edited this chapter a million times so I am truly sorry if this is not as quality of work as my other fics, but I’m sure it’s fine. Uhm yeah! First chapter to my series, I hope you guys enjoy it <3

“Chin up, head forward, and bend your fucking knees.” 

Cecilia nodded, trying to do as her trainer had instructed her. Although it was useless. She couldn’t get a handle on her stance much less her balance for the life of her. No matter what she did her knees wobbled and arms shook from trying to hold up her claymore, her body just wasn’t fit for this line of work. Still, she needed to continue forward no matter the obstacles that stood in her way, including her god forsaken body. When she had made that promise to her father on his deathbed she never knew her own flesh would turn against her. I guess she should’ve expected this much with how her luck stood throughout her life. 

Cecilia continued to listen to her instructor until the training session was cut short by him stomping off in frustration. She was used to this, the short temperedness and mockery. It was a part of her daily routine at this point. Still, she couldn’t help but feel an ache in her chest as she realized how horribly she was failing her father. She hadn’t even achieved finishing her training at all, much less show any kind of skill that would get her close enough to whoever this mystery man was. At this rate she wouldn’t even be a part of The Fatui if things kept up the way they were. Still, she remained hopeful and determined. At least she wasn’t totally useless, though. She had heard several of the higher ups regard her as someone with ‘hidden talents’, but she assumed this was always some sick joke.

“Cecilia.” She turned her head to see who it was and laid eyes upon another Fatui agent. “Follow me.”  

Following the man escorting her she was led into a larger office, another high ranking official  stared her down as if she was nothing but an annoyance. 

“Sit.” She said coldly.

Cecilia did so with grace, and yet, her hands shook with each passing moment of silence. 

“Cecilia. Oh, I remember you. You’re the one who can’t hold a weapon to save her damn life.” The woman glared at her with evil intent. “Ridiculous.” She mutters under her breath. 

“So, Cecilia,” Her voice was thick with cruelty, “It would seem that you have made barely any progress since you’ve arrived here. In fact I’d go as far to say you’ve done worse than when you started. Not only that, but you have reached a new level of frustration for both me and my colleagues. I see no point in you wasting any more of our time.” 

Cecilia grips the hem of her dress. They hadn’t even bothered to even give her a uniform. I suppose they were right, she really was useless. If her incompetence wasn’t evidence enough then maybe it was her fighting back tears that gave it away. Cecilia was a hopeless case through and through. What the fuck was she even doing in Snezhnaya? Daydreaming about a dream that would never come true? Stupid, stupid girl. 

“But luckily for you that decision is not up to me.” The woman confessed through her grit teeth. 

There was still hope for her yet. 

The woman moves to remove a folder from her desk drawer and throws it onto the desk. “While you are atrocious when it comes to combat, you are however quite skilled in other aspects. Which is why you have your first mission. Not only that, but you'll also be accompanied by one of the Harbingers.”

Cecilia’s face beamed with excitement. “Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

The agent scoffed. “Do not make promises you can’t keep.”

Cecilia had begun to stand up when she was cut short again by the woman.

“Oh, and one more thing.” Cecilia turned to look at her in confusion. “You will need to meet with the Harbinger in charge of this mission by today, or you’re off the assignment. You’re dismissed.”

Stepping back out into the halls of the palace, Cecilia looked over the file she was handed. Although, even as she read over the information she still couldn’t quite figure out which Harbinger it was, but she figured she would find out soon enough. Regardless of her nervousness she had to meet with the Harbinger on the team straight away. As she perused the file for information on where she was to rendezvous with The Harbinger, Cecilia soon found herself lost in her own thoughts. First impressions were most important to her, always heeding the words her mother had once said. She had no choice but to rehearse what she would say and how she would say it. She had to go through every scenario, obstacle, and approach every what if with a solution, until there was nothing left but confidence and certainty. 

In her inner rehearsal she looked up for a single second only to realize she had become lost in the physical sense as well. Not just that, but there was no one in sight. As much as she could tell she was all alone. Frantically she looked behind and all around her, but nothing looked familiar. The eerie silence did nothing to calm her and instead of sticking around she turned around and quickly retraced her steps. Still, this only confused her. She had not run into a single soul. That is until her body clashed with a tall figure that seemed to come out of nowhere. In her clumsiness she dropped her file and all the papers in it. Immediately she knelt down to gather everything into one big neat pile. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you and I don’t know where I am.” Cecilia spoke in a panic, moments away from crying. Too scared to make any eye contact with whoever she had just run into. 

The mysterious figure smiled before replying. “You should be more careful.” 

Anxiety had found a home in her body. Cecilia wanted to apologize again, but she stopped once she looked up and locked eyes with the face of the man standing before her. 

The Doctor.

Of course of all the people she’d run into it would be him. Although she could not see his eyes, half his face covered by a beak-like mask, the grin he wore told her all she needed to know. Cecilia had begun to feel a darkness cloud her mind, experiencing what felt like heavy rain fall onto her body. She felt herself shrink as he loomed over her with a smile on his face. No wonder it was so empty, she wasn’t supposed to be there. Quickly she gathered the rest of the papers and shoved them into the file, standing up suddenly in hopes this would allow her to take her leave. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. I just got a little lost and–” The Doctor cut off Cecilia before she could say another word.

“Where are you going?” His voice was cold. 

Cecilia frantically looked in her files for the answer, but she was in too much of a panic to really understand the words. She really was fucked. “I uhm.. I’m trying to meet with the Harbinger that I’m going on a mission with. I just don’t know where or who it is..” She admitted nervously.

The Harbinger hummed to himself before turning to Cecilia again and smiling. “Follow me.” 

Cecilia hesitated only for a second before running to catch up with The Doctor. He didn’t say anything and neither did she. Cecilia made sure to stay a few steps behind him at all times, not wanting to step on any toes or make him too aware of her presence. Cecilia continued to say nothing but he decided to break the silence.

“What’s your name?” Another forward question. 

Cecilia swallowed hard before answering. “It’s C-Cecilia.” Her voice was quiet.

“Interesting.” He grinned. 

She was too afraid to ask what he meant by that, but the chill which ran down her spine was more than enough of a hint to not pry. Cecilia couldn’t help but become overwhelmed by a feeling of unease as The Doctor seemed to float beside her. Walking further behind him did nothing to calm her nerves as she could feel his eyes on her even though he was looking straight ahead. There was something off about him, something Cecilia couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she shook her head in denial. She hadn’t realized just how lost she truly was until they were walking back. The scenery suddenly became more and more familiar as they walked along. 

It wasn’t until she had seen groups of people in Fatui uniforms that she began to relax. Although the moment lasted only for a brief amount of time. For as she became more aware of those around her, so did they with her. Their eyes went from a look of disgust to shock. They looked at The Doctor and then back to Cecilia, waiting until they had passed the gaze of the Harbinger to whisper into their comrade’s ear. This did not go unmissed by Cecilia. She caught on to the way those who would usually laugh at her, say some cruel mockery, or go out of their way to hurt her simply stared on in disbelief. Thankfully, before things could take a turn for the worse Cecilia approached a room where she and The Doctor had stopped.

The Harbinger stopped, standing to smirk at Cecilia. She waited for him to say something only to realize he had said something by remaining silent. So, in a haste she took out her file and frantically flipped the papers which were tucked away in a rather messy manner. Cecilia let out a shaky breath as she looked through the papers, always needing to be absolutely sure before proceeding with the next step. Finally her fingers traced underneath the location of the door which she so happened to be standing next to. Yes, this was it. 

“This is it. Thank you for escorting me.” Her voice shook even as she replied with what she thought sounded like confidence. 

Cecilia gave The Harbinger a rather weak attempt at a smile before attempting to walk into the room. I say attempt, because before she could take another step she was stopped by him. 

“I’m sorry did I forget something?” Her body shrunk as she felt his gaze on her. 

What a stupid question. 

Cecilia seemed to be a part of a game of which she had no knowledge of joining. Thankfully the uncomfortable feeling only lasted briefly.

“And here I thought we were going to make a great team. Such a pity.” He replied, showing off his sharp teeth with a wide smile.

The realization finally hit Cecilia. 

Fuck.

All this time he was The Harbinger. Cecilia should’ve anticipated this. She stood there frozen in fear as the realization that she’d be working alongside him hit her. Why did they assign her to a mission with a Harbinger in the first place? Why him? She wasn’t nearly as good at what she did as others, she barely got by even with the non-physical portion of her training. So, why him? Why her? There had to be some sort of ulterior motive at work here. Still, Cecilia seemed to fool herself into thinking this all had to do with her “skill”, even though she would be the first to call herself useless. It was one mission anyway, how hard could it possibly be? She asked herself. Cecilia did not realize then just how badly she’d eat those words. 

Dottore continued to grin as he ushered with his hand for her to walk into the room before him. “After you, Cecilia.” 

The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine. She hesitated a moment before eventually walking into what looked to be his office, The Doctor soon following after. He sat down on one of the couches opposite to where Cecilia had sat herself. He crossed his legs and joined his hands together, grinning at Cecilia who was avoiding looking at him at all costs. He stared at her with intimidating intrigue. There were so many things about her that piqued his interest, and after perusing her medical history it was clear just what exactly drew him to her. Sure, her overall lack of muscle strength and peculiarity was one of many things that caught his eye, but what truly grabbed his attention was how her body acted as if it was deteriorating, only for every test to come back normal. Realistically her body ran as if it was dead or at the very least dying. Although even with this fact taken into account she seemed to be, for lack of a better word, healthy. 

It could’ve easily been an incompetent doctor, of course, but that was clearly not the case. He’d vaguely heard about her on the rare occurrence that he roamed the palace halls, but he never paid much mind to the gossip. She wasn’t nearly as intriguing then as she had become at that moment. He wasn’t one to really listen to mindless talk, finding his hours better filled with his own work than the chatter of others. He was eager to get down to the bottom of this little secret she was hiding, whatever it may be. 

“So, shall we start?” He asked, grinning ear to ear with excitement. 

“Y-yes, of course, sir.” Cecilia mumbled. 

“There’s no need for formalities. Please, call me Dottore.” His grin grew even bigger than before. 

The familiarity of his name felt too personal, uncomfortable. Something about it rubbed Cecilia the wrong way, but she would not go against The Harbinger’s request. Cecilia looked at him briefly and nodded, quickly darting her eyes immediately after. What had Cecilia gotten herself into?

#dottore x oc #dottore x original character #genshin x oc #genshin x original character #dottore fanfic #genshin fanfic

[noctilucous-sunni]

the very tiring, horrible, not at all good day where you were not a track star [sagau]

Part 2. [masterlist]

warnings: swearing, i couldn’t create a cool title, cultish behaviours???, implied violence???, i don’t know what this is and i don’t want to find out, old crusty writing skills reborn!

info/tropes: imposter!au but with humor??, light crack, light comedy, cult!au, gn!reader

notes: like i said in a previous post, ive been on a writing hiatus for 2 years! Which is why this is very self-indulgent and me simply brushing up on my writing skills. It’s rather bad but i had fun writing it haha 🥴🤭 also its my first time writing for sagau! this was my originally intended first writing post bc it was the first thing i wrote for genshin but then i never finished it and then i posted hands as my first written post and here we are, back to the beginning :) i haven’t edited much of this, i just added on to it so my writing skills (and any characterization) in here are super crusty oof.

feat. character(s); diluc

It had been a painfully normal day, and maybe that was the source of all your current problems. You had just completed some exams and instead of studying yet again, you decided to take a short break. As you got home, dragging yourself towards your bedroom, you huffed, letting go of your bags and then collapsed onto the bed quite comfortably. After a few minutes of just lying there and rethinking your life choices, you finally decided to sit up and take out your computer. You hadn’t played Genshin in a while and you felt like rewarding yourself with finishing a quest or redecorating your teapot.

As usual, you quickly and painfully lost track of time. When you checked your phone, you saw the time and winced. 11:30 pm. Did no one call for you? That’s quite odd actually, you would usually be berated by your mom to go downstairs to socialise and eat. How did time fly by so fast? Wait, did you even eat yet? You couldn’t sneak out now, you’d be caught and chastised for staying up on a school night. Instead, you and your growling stomach simply had to deal with it. If your stomach could text emojis to you it would probably send you an angry face. You quickly closed your laptop and placed it on your desk. As you turn off the lights, you yawn before wrapping yourself in a cosy blanket burrito. Not too bad of a day, you supposed.

If only you had known what was going to happen. Your future self was probably laughing at you right now.

As sunlight playfully peeks from behind clouds, you shuffle in your sleep, wishing for five more minutes. When it gets warm, your brain finally starts to wake up. Sitting up, you frown as a calming breeze rustles your hair. Wait.

A calming breeze? You didn’t leave any windows open. HECK, you didn’t even HAVE any windows in your bedroom. Your half-asleep brain was barely processing anything, let alone allow you the energy to sit up and stretch your arms.

Why.. was there grass.. and trees.. and not your bedroom? And was it animated? The grass was nice though, you remarked, threading your fingers through the grass strands. You’re touching grass haha. Albeit, probably not real grass but… still.

You chuckle. Maybe I should go out and touch grass. You think, laughing to yourself because this was absolutely ridiculous. YOU KNEW that you probably would be terrible at surviving in those sagau fics you always read. Thank god this wasn’t that. Phew.

You shake your head, but the very animated grass in front of you hasn't changed. Haha. This is funny. Wake up brain, hello??? You thought, before your face falls. Light panic and worry set on your face. You rub your eyes once more but nothing changes and a worrying realisation sneaks into your thoughts.

No… No! That was crazy talk! You weren’t in a game! That would be insane, and concerning and…

Holy fuck, you were in a game. HOLY-

Genshin, to be exact but YOU KNEW exactly where you were. Windrise?? You pushed the thought away.

Shit. Shit shit shit! This was bad. Bad!! If this was anything like those sagau fics that you adored reading.. then… Well, you were screwed. Hopelessly, horribly, utterly, completely fucked. Only god could help you now.

Huh. Wait, did this mean that you were god now?? DID THAT MEAN THAT YOU COULD ONLY HELP YOURSELF? WHAT GOOD WOULD THAT BE?? To be totally honest, you had no idea if you were but it wouldn’t hurt to check. It actually probably would hurt but still sounds better than finding out through being stabbed by a guard or something, you pondered.

While deep in thought, something cold had nudged your shoulder. You instantly jumped, and let out a yell before realizing that was a very bad and stupid decision. Hoping nobody heard you, you look at where that weird cold thing had been, laughing softly. It was only a couple of cryo slimes. They were really quite cute.

Your hand hovered over one of them, reaching to pat them hesitantly, before letting down your guard. The fact that they weren’t attacking was good wasn’t it?

“Over there!”

Ah. And you thought that you could get away before anyone would notice you. Of course someone heard you. You should have known. The shouts had begun to increase in volume and well… you should probably start running right? The cryo slimes all get very defensive around you and push you in the opposite direction of the approaching guards. They basically do your own work for you when you are too frozen to act. You wish that this was a really weird out of body experience right now but it was starting to be evidently clear that this ‘dream’ or whatever it was, seemed too vivid and realistic that it had to be real. This is not the type of shit you could make up, but oh god you wish it was.

Still unmoving, you watch as guards and angry knights approach, yelling loudly.

“Hi? Heh.” You say and wave awkwardly. What were you doing?? MOVE!! RUN!! You internally yelled at your brain to make your legs function. Oh… you were so fucked. That's when everything starts to get a little too real and you are thrust into action mode. A spear heads your way, barely missing your side by a meter. Another lands right in front of you.

“HOLY SHIT! FUCK! FUCK, IM GOING, OH MY GOD-”

They had horrible aim, fortunately. Really, someone needed to improve the training for these guards and knights. THIS WAS NOT THE TIME TO REMARK ON THEIR SPEAR THROWING SKILLS!! You shook your head, jumping into action.

Your feet instantly start moving of their own accord and you continue to let out an excruciating list of curses that even a sailor would be surprised to hear. While heading past Springvale, your legs have already started failing you and as you near the Statue of The Seven near Dawn Winery, you collapse, your body screaming for a break.

Breaths come out in short pants and you lie on your back, looking at the clouds above before closing your eyes briefly. Maybe the guards were gone… and if they weren’t then… Well, you needed this break. The thought of “what if they weren’t” makes you crack one open. But it only leads you to noticing a casted shadow on the ground that wasn’t there before and you instantly get in a defensive position with your hands in front of your face.

“Stop! Don’t come closer! I.. will… punch you in the face!” You shout hesitantly towards whoever you presume is towering over you. When nothing happens, you look up confused, only to see Diluc, mirroring your own expression of confusion.

“Your grace?”

“Whoa, you are so pretty, what the fuck.” You said absentmindedly before covering your mouth with your hand. “Oh shit. I mean… uh..” You stumble over your words as you stare at the pyro vision holder in awe and then wince.

Diluc blushes lightly, and he coughs, looking away for a mere second before returning his gaze to you.

“Your Grace…” He starts to say before hearing you wince.

Frowning, he crouches down to your level to inspect you better. “Are you alright? Have you been injured?”

You flinch lightly as he gets closer and then you try to scoot backwards a bit, still suspicious of how much he is not trying to kill you. Unlike those guards that were chasing you earlier. How rude.

“I’m not going to harm you, your grace… I’m simply worried, I…”

“I’m fine.. but… didn’t you hear some news about an imposter??” You ask, cautiously waiting for his answer.

He sighs, shaking his head. He starts speaking but you end up not listening and instead simply stare at him, how he looks absolutely gorgeous and how his hair looks so pretty and soft and you almost reach your hand out to touch it. And this is when your head and memories became fuzzy.

It had become cold and wet all of a sudden?? You remember you had tried to stand up but then the ground met your face yet again, or very nearly did. And then it wasn’t really cold and wet?? You remember your legs and feet aching and then you simply became warmer?? Darkness clouded your vision soon after that. The timeline of events were very confusing to you and your poor brain was too exhausted and muddled from well, everything that had been occurring since you awoke.

Diluc looks at your unconscious form in his arms, after you previously attempted to stand. All of a sudden, he had to catch you haphazardly when you failed. He sighs, brushing some strands of your hair away from your sweaty and rain-soaked face. “Your grace..?” He calls worriedly, suddenly aware of how hot your forehead was, despite the rain cooling you down, it probably made you worse. The wine tycoon stands up, keeping you close in his arms as he hurries back to the Winery, not wanting to stay in the rain for too long, especially due to your current condition and health.

a/n: this was about 1.5k i think hehe. yes i am making a part two. hope you enjoyed whatever the hell this was hahaha.

#sunni writes #genshin impact x reader #diluc #gn!reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc x reader #sagau #sagau impostor au #imposter sagau #diluc sagau #diluc x gender neutral reader #light crack #i dont know how this is gonna go #it might flop but fuck that lol #anyways im tired now #diluc x y/n

[whispers-of-masser]

Just Tonight (Part I)

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB, ft. Xelzaz ✧ Pining idiots, angst, spicy ending; 6k+ words ✧ Mature content (17+), mentions of blood/injury, alcohol consumption & trauma coping via intoxication pls don't do this folks Nebarra's got issues ♫ "Just Tonight" - The Pretty Reckless ✒ Yall get the long version cause saints I am too tired to edit this any more (also the dwelling mentioned in this fic is based off the one from the Nexus mod "Environs - Kolskeggr" by Siberpunk.)

Nebarra was used to keeping watch. It was a habit, a skill, something he'd picked up during his time as a soldier. The reason? Anyone who didn't, died. Simple as that.

But these days, he found himself barely having to pay any attention at all. Travelling with you, his only enemies were bandits and undead, maybe the occasional creature of the wild with a poor sense of self-preservation. And all of them were as loud as they could possibly be, announcing their presence long before he could even see them.

It was boring.

On the one hand, he was certainly grateful that he no longer had the... concern... of an inglorious death by a knife in the dark, or poison in his soup, or a scorpion in his boot. But on the other, having the enemy constantly giving themselves away with their own idiocy and carelessness... it was almost demeaning to fight them. A true waste of his skills.

What he needed was a challenge. Something just the slightest bit interesting, an enemy worthy of him –

"What are you muttering about, now?" a familiar voice asked, and Nebarra spared a glance in its direction – of course, it was the lizard.

"That this wine is horrible." He gave the bottle in hand a lazy swirl, then set it down on the bar counter, leaning as far back on the stool as he could without falling. "As rich as the Silver-Bloods are supposed to be, they clearly skimp on their inn's liquor. Even Riften was better than this!"

Xelzaz gave him a flat stare. "Nebarra, you haven't had a single sip in the entire time you've been sitting here."

Nebarra pulled away, dramatically looking the Argonian over. "Xelzaz, have you been... watching me?"

"What a horrifying thought." He pointed one clawed finger at the bottle. "No – I just happen to have eyes, and can still see the unbroken seal around the cork."

"Ah. That." Nebarra fumbled for an excuse. "I had some of their wine last night."

"I'm sure you did," Xelzaz deadpanned. "So, what is it this time? What's bothering you?"

Nebarra scowled from behind his helmet. "Who says anything is bothering me?"

"...You really have a problem with being in denial, you know that?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about."

The lizard quirked a scaly brow. "Ironic, much?"

From behind his helmet, Nebarra gave him a pointless scowl. "Why are you bothering me? Where's the little scale-skin?"

"Khash," Xelzaz corrected him. "I would appreciate it if you started using her name – and so would she. At this moment, however, she is taking a nap in our room."

"How quaint. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Nor did you agree to use her name."

"Fine, fine, Khash. Now, why are you here again?"

Xelzaz's jaws parted, but before he could answer, your voice suddenly drifted over to the pair.

"What are you two arguing about this time?"

Nebarra turned to see you walking towards them, the inn doors swinging slowly shut behind you. In the moments before they closed, however, the brilliant light of dawn was at your back, wreathing you in in an aura of gold so brilliant, Auri-El himself would envy it.

...Since when was he so poetic?

"I can assure you," Xelzaz said as you approached, "that we are merely having a discussion."

"Uh-huh." Your gaze swept between the two, and as it landed on him, Nebarra could have sworn something flashed in it. Something... lingering...

Then it was gone, and he knew, just knew, he'd been seeing things.

"Right, well, I have something else for us all to discuss." You slid onto a barstool beside Nebarra, dropping your pack to the floor; it hit the stone with an impossibly loud crashing and banging, and even Xelzaz cringed at the sound.

Gods, just what did you have in there?

"Do try and mind the potions," Xelzaz cautioned, motioning to the pack. "My ingredients for those aren't limitless, you know."

"Ah, sorry Xel – I forget half the stuff I have in there, honestly." You reached out, grabbed a wine bottle – Nebarra's wine bottle – and popped the cork, taking a swig straight from the glass.

"Hey! That was mine!"

"Tough." Yet, despite your snark, you reached for one of the coin pouches hanging from your belt, fishing something out and tossing it at him. "Here's your money back, at least."

Nebarra caught it easily, something metallic hitting his gauntlet with a dull clang. When he looked down, though... "This is a ring." A simple silver band, fine etchings engraved on it – Redguard etchings. "Take it back. I don't want it."

"Hm?" You glanced aside at him, and for just a moment, your expression seemed to freeze at the sight of the ring. Quickly, you snatched it back up, stuffing it into a different pouch. "Ah. That – that's from Margaret. As thanks for saving her when we arrived last night. Must've... put it in with the coins by accident. Here–"

"Keep your gold," Nebarra sighed, turning away – and locked eyes with Xelzaz, a knowing look in the lizard's eye.

From the shadows of his helmet, Nebarra made a rude face at him.

"Suit yourself," you shrugged, and when Nebarra looked back at you, he could see a flush against your cheeks.

...Probably just the wine.

"So, my friend," Xelzaz said, "now that you have sated your thirst, what is it you wanted to discuss?"

"Ah." You took one more swig before setting the bottle down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I found some work for us." You jerked your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing back towards the inn door. "There's some miners just outside the city – a couple of them weren't originally stationed here, but someplace called... Kolseg, or something. Kolskyr? Can't remember. Anyway, some Forsworn ransacked the place and drove them here, and they're willing to pay good money to reclaim the mine – and a bonus if we clear out the nearby cave they came from."

"Ah," Xelzaz nodded. "I believe that would be Kolskeggr mine, and possibly Blind Cliff Cave – I recall seeing them on my map."

"Right – that's them. The miners made it out to be a large group of Forsworn that invaded, but..." The words trailed off, and you shrugged, doubt painted across your face. "I get the feeling it may not be. Not to us, at least. I asked around, and the mine isn't especially large – no deep tunnels or twisting passages. I doubt it could fit enough Forsworn to give us any real trouble. As for the cave, we can just scout it out to start off with and take things from there."

Nebarra heaved a sigh. "Another boring job... Well, it's better than sitting around here all day. I'm in."

You nodded at him, and again, he could swear your gaze seemed to linger for a moment.

...His armour probably needed polishing. That must've been why you kept staring, surely. It couldn't possibly be for anything other reason. No matter how much... he may have wanted it to be...

"Hm." Xelzaz shifted his weight from one clawed foot to another, seeming to consider something. Glanced between you and Nebarra, a look in his eyes the Altmer wasn't sure he liked. Then, "If it's that straightforward, I think I might as well stay behind. Three people in such a small mine, not to mention the Forsworn occupiers... things might be a bit cramped. Also, Khash is still sleeping, and while I'd rather not wake her, neither do I want to simply leave her alone while we're off doing the Jarl's work for him."

You snickered at that, reaching for another sip of wine. "No kidding. I'm... amazed at how ineffectual so many of these Jarls are. Also, wait – Khash is still sleeping?" At Xelzaz's nod, you winced, glancing over toward the rooms with brows furrowed in concern. "I guess she was more tired than I realised... I should have been paying better attention, damnit."

"She is quite hardy," Xelzaz assured you, moving his hands in a soothing motion, "and as healthy as ever. It is easy to forget sometimes that, though she is strong for her age, she is not yet an adult and does not possess our endurance. But with a little more rest, she will be fine – we'll simply have to keep a closer eye on her in the future."

"Wait, so, does all of that mean you lizards won't be coming with us?" Nebarra demanded. Normally, he'd be perfectly happy about that, but... there was something in Xelzaz's expression that set off alarm bells in his head. But why?

"That is correct. You two will be... on you own. Alone. Together."

...Oh. Oh, that sneaky, scheming lizard.

Nebarra risked a glance at you, and to his relief, you hadn't seemed to notice; you were too invested in finding the bottom of the bottle. That, or you were simply ignoring it. The thought of it being the latter... prickled, for some reason.

"Well then," you said, setting down the now-empty bottle, grabbing your pack off the floor, and walking determinedly towards the doors, "shall we go? I wanna get my hands on some gold."

Under his breath, Xelzaz muttered, just loud enough for Nebarra to hear, "Nebarra's gold."

It took all of the Altmer's restraint not to smack him upside the head right then and there.

~~~

You had been right – Kolskeggr mine was cramped, the tunnels narrow to the point that Nebarra was relegated to walking behind you. Not that he minded, particularly. It gave him the opportunity to... appreciate the view. Not that he'd ever admit it.

...Not even to himself.

And then there was the fighting. Brief and boring, despite the infamous Briar-Heart among the Forsworn's ranks. It was, admittedly, the last one standing, so obviously it had something going for it compared to the rest – but not enough.

Nebarra watched with perverse satisfaction as you ripped the briar heart itself from the enemy's open chest; they were dead before they even hit the floor.

He sniffed in disdain. Honestly, how stupid could one be, leaving their heart open and exposed, not even a single piece of armour to protect it?

"I think we're done here." Your voice resonated in the cavern, low and rich, and as your head turned towards Nebarra – he froze.

...Captivating.

It was all he could think as he stared at you, a smile on your face, savage and wild, teeth flashing in the dark. Blood stained your armour, coated your sword, dripped from your fist and the briar heart still clutched in it. As firelight and shadows danced across your form, it was as though your presence alone was enough to breathe life into them. And your eyes... oh, your eyes.

They blazed with ferocity, the fervour of battle not yet faded, boring into him as though you could see his very soul. Under the intensity of your stare, he felt exposed, stripped bare before you; he could barely breathe, barely think.

Was this what your enemies saw in their last moments, before you sliced open their throats? In their last breaths, did they feel what he did, right now?

...What did he feel?

He didn't have words for it. Refused to have words for it. To put his feelings into words was to acknowledge them, make things real.

No, it was better to leave things as they were – threads of gossamer, intangible, unknown. It was better that way for you both. Not that he cared about... making things easier for you... Not at all. But... maybe he wanted to –

"Nebarra?"

He flinched, your voice drawing him back to the present, grounding him once more to reality. "What?" he managed, his voice a rasp.

Your gaze flickered, and you took a small step towards him.

He forced himself not to pull away, not to give away his weakness – you. You, you, you.

Was this what Xelzaz had had in mind when he sent the two of you off alone together? Damn meddling lizard...

As you took another step, your arm began to raise, reaching out towards him – then stopped, and fell limp at your side.

Your lips parted, and something gripped Nebarra's chest – something he didn't know, didn't know, didn't know.

"I–"

A sudden creaking and groaning swallowed the rest of your words, the support beams of the mine agonizing over the weight of the mountain. Nebarra wasn't sure whether to curse, or be relieved.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"...Nothing. Nevermind." You glanced away, down at your sword, at the blood still dripping from it. "Ah... messy." Kneeling down, you yanked a rabbit pelt from one of the fallen Forsworn, wiping your blade with it. "Well," you said, clearing your throat, "I think we should be alright to head to that Forsworn cave, now. After this–" You motioned vaguely at the carnage the two of you had caused "–I don't think we'll have much trouble, except maybe in a difference in numbers."

"So just snipe them," Nebarra suggested with a shrug, pointing at your bow and trying not to give away... anything he'd just been thinking, feeling. "By the time the rest catch on, it'll be too late, and they'll be dead."

You flashed him another grin, his heart constricting at the sight – gods, what were you doing to him? – and laughed, "But where's the fun in that?"

"The fun is in the knowledge that you survived and the enemy did not, regardless of the method. Although... maybe not poison."

Again, you laughed, the sound bright and clear as a river. "I'll be sure to tell Xelzaz you said that."

"Well then, If I wake up dead tomorrow morning, I'll know just who to haunt."

Rising to your feet and sheathing your blade, a curious expression on your face, you asked, "Who, then? The snitch, or the killer?"

"You. Just... just you." The words escaped before Nebarra could stop them, and he suddenly found himself wishing he couldn't talk at all.

"Didn't get enough of me, yet?"

No.

That, at least, he managed to keep to himself. "...Can we get going?"

And so the two of you did, confident in the ease of the next few battles.

But neither you, nor Nebarra, had counted on hagravens.

And Nebarra most definitely hadn't counted on the Reachmen he'd just killed – the one he thought he'd killed, could have sworn he'd killed – suddenly getting up, barrelling past him, and sending a spear of ice straight towards you.

You never saw it coming, too intent on one of the hagravens.

And Nebarra... he wasn't fast enough.

He was never fast enough.

You dropped to one knee with a cry, shield clattering to the floor, and memories blurred with reality as Nebarra charged forward, desperate to stop the past from recurring.

He couldn't write another letter for the dead. Never even finished the first.

But you weren't Camia. You had the favour of the gods, and ancient dragon souls within your own, or however that nonsense worked. You... you wouldn't die so easily. You couldn't.

And you didn't.

Even as he ran towards you, he saw your mouth open, your throat constrict, your chest rise –

"Fus Ro Dah!" The words ripped through the air, louder and deeper than ever in the stone cavern, tinged with a draconic roar – and the faintest trace of panic, a remnant of the human within the Dragonborn. The Forsworn was sent flying, and with your free hand, you sent a firebolt searing towards them as well – overkill, maybe, but you clearly weren't taking any chances.

And as the furs on their body burned away, Nebarra could see it – the gaping hole in their chest, the briar heart within shriveling away in flames. Suddenly, his words from earlier rang through his ears, loud and mocking: "How stupid could one be, leaving their heart open and exposed, not even a single piece of armour to protect it?"

Damn you, Cor...

The body crashed against the wall, dropping like a rock to the floor, and the hagraven behind you staggered away in shock – Nebarra could see the fear painted on its face plain as day.

And when you suddenly pitched forward, face-down on the stone, that same fear seized him as well.

The next few moments were a blur; he was between you and the enemy hagraven, a ward raised with one hand, his sword flaming in the other. The second hagraven – their tenuous ally, and guide through the damned place, all for the sake of reclaiming it for herself – clawed and scratched the other between blasts of magic. And, at last, she fell with a screech, until she moved no more.

As Nebarra let the ward fall, he gripped his blade with two hands and brought it sailing down on her neck – he wasn't taking any chances. Not again. Not ever again.

As the hideous, black-feathered head rolled away, the remaining hagraven cackled in delight. "Yes, yes, Petra gone...! What good meat, good nibbles you are..." She cocked her head to where you lay, gasping on the floor, red staining the surrounding stone. "Your friend, shiny one... maybe leave your friend, yes, yes? I make... pretty, pretty eyeballs from–"

Nebarra's arm shot out and the monster's words ended in a croak, her head falling one way, her body, another.

And in the newfound silence, he turned towards you, dropping to his knees at your side. "Here," he said, fumbling with his satchel, pulling out a healing potion and shoving it to your lips. "Drink. Now."

Your eyes were glazed, swimming with pain, but somehow you still managed to smile at him, teeth painted red. "Wow, Nebs... 's almost... like you care."

"Shut up and drink," he growled, and though his hands didn't shake, something else in him felt unsteady, off-balance. The fight had been... too close. Too close to his memories, his past. Something in him had been scraped raw by it, salt on an old wound, sending cracks though his defences, a bitter sense of helplessness churning in his gut.

Even when you choked down the potion, some of the precious liquid spilling down your chin, a sense of urgency, anxiety, still gnawed at him. The potion would dull some of the pain, begin the clotting process, but you still needed more – real medical attention, the kind he couldn't give.

But first... first, he had to get you out of here. "Can you stand? Walk?"

In response, you braced your arms, pushed yourself off the floor – and promptly collapsed, your own legs betraying you; Nebarra lunged forward to catch you just before you hit the floor. "That's a no," he grumbled.

"Just – just give me a minute," you gasped, staring up at him from his arms. Your eyes weren't focusing; Nebarra wondered if you could even see him at all. "Stamina... stamina potion... in my bag. And some... other stuff. Should help."

With a grunt of acknowledgement, Nebarra reached for your pack, catching it by one of the straps and dragging in over; the whole bottom and side were soaked with crimson. He found the potions, though, blessedly intact.

Why hadn't he just searched through your bag in the first place? Why had he given you one of his own?

Not the issue, he thought. Very much not the issue. Your eyes were closing – you needed to keep them open, to stay awake, to drink.

"Hey. Hey," he snapped, giving your cheek as hard a pinch as he dared; your eyelids fluttered in response, but he couldn't see your irises – only white. Not good.

Unable – unwilling – to let you go, he grabbed a bottle with his free hand and fumbled to pop the cork with his thumb. It took him a few seconds – a few seconds too long, a few seconds neither of you could spare – but at last, he got it, and emptied it down your throat. You coughed and spluttered, but managed to down most of it – Nebarra wasn't even sure what kind of potion it was, the surrounding torch lights too dim to tell the colour of the bottle.

As your breath steadied, though, he guessed it had been a healing elixir – thank goodness it wasn't magicka. He groped for another bottle, hoping his potion-picking luck would last.

For the next few minutes, Nebarra did his best to coax potion after potion down your throat, until finally you gagged and would take no more. "I'm fine," you choked out, blearily shaking your head.

"You look like a skeever's nest," he snapped back. "But I filled you up on these damn things, so tell me you can at least walk now."

"I can walk."

"Good. Let's go." And as he helped you to your feet, he allowed himself a single, quiet sigh of relief. You were okay... for now.

~~~

The Mother's weeping. It was all Nebarra could think as he stumbled up the road, rain drumming on his armour, your limp body in his arms. Despite your insistence that you were fine, the trek back down the tower in pouring rain and navigating the cave had been too much for you. He had nearly had a heart attack when you collapsed mere steps away from the road, head hitting the stones with an audible crack.

There hadn't been any blood, at least. He just hoped that didn't mean the injury was internal, and that instead, it would be nothing more than a concussion and a bump on the head.

"You have a thick skull," Nebarra muttered to himself, glancing down at you. "You'll be alright."

As if to mock him, an ominous roll of thunder chose right then to shake the crying skies.

The gods were laughing at him, weren't they? There he was, a former Altmer soldier, a veteran of the Great War, trying to save the life of the gods' latest pet project: the Dragonborn.

Did they even care about you, the real you, the human behind the title? Was this all just some game to them, uprooting the life of any old mortal and making them a pawn, a scapegoat, a vessel for powers beyond belief? And if so, where did he fit into all of it?

...He didn't. No matter how many times he thought about it, how many different ways he tried to reason it out, there was no real place for him at your side. Although... he supposed he was saving your life, right now. Maybe. Hopefully.

Such an act was worth at least one line in the annals of history, right?

"During the Dragonborn's many early adventures, one in the Reach proved particularly dangerous, and they had to be rescued by one of their companions, a former Altmer soldier..." Something like that, perhaps. Or maybe even less. Not that he cared one way or another, really. Because, again, he had no place in history. Not in your story, not at your side, not on your mind... and not in your heart.

Nebarra stumbled, slipping on the wet stones and falling to one knee. He felt no pain, though, too shocked at his own thoughts.

Your heart? Your heart? Was that... truly what he wanted?

No. Impossible. He wasn't thinking straight. He was tired, emotions raw, mind jumbled. He... he didn't want you. He didn't.

He couldn't.

With a grunt, Nebarra forced himself to his feet once more, glancing at your face. Rivulets of water poured from it, streaking down your cheeks like tears, following the curve toward your nose, coursing down your lips... your... lips...

He nearly stumbled again; he wrenched his eyes away from you and glared at the road instead.

Damn this endless road.

He couldn't keep going like this. He was out of stamina potions, so were you, and Markarth was still so far away, the rain still pouring. But there was nowhere to stop, take shelter, and you needed proper medical attention.

And as a streak of lightning illuminated the world, revealing a building at the crest of the road, Nebarra just knew the gods were toying with him.

With the last of his strength, limbs aching, lungs burning, he brought you to the structure. Upon a closer look, it was familiar – the abandoned houses of the miners from Kolskeggr, the mine itself just behind. The bodies of the Forsworn you and he had killed earlier in the day still lay scattered about, the rain mingling with their blood and painting the road red.

Stomping past the dead, Nebarra went for the larger of the two structures and rammed the door with his shoulder; it burst open with a scream of its hinges. Arms shaking, he made his way towards the bed and set you down as carefully as he could; the last thing he needed was your wound opening up again.

As soon as you were free of his embrace, his legs gave way, and he crumpled at your bedside, armour clattering and banging around him. He groaned; by morning, the soreness would arrive with a vengeance. He had no idea how he'd make it to Markarth, then; his Restoration skills weren't that good.

He'd just have to manage, somehow. He always did.

But for now, he needed to rest. He'd done all he could for you, saving your damn life, carrying you this far, and finding a safe place to stay for a while. He could... rest now... just for a bit... just... a...

~~~

It was the cold that woke Nebarra – the cold, and the searing, aching, burning of his whole gods-damned body. He groaned, the sound cracking and painful in his dry throat. Forcing his eyes open, he stared at his surroundings, trying to take it all in, recall where he was, why he was on the floor, what was happening... and his eyes landed on you.

...Ah. Right.

Rising slowly, grimacing at the pain, he fumbled with his satchel, pulling out a scroll of Candlelight, its runes glowing faintly in the dark. Ripping the paper in two, an orb of cold blue light blazed to life overhead – he winced as the light burned his eyes, squinting through his helm. At last though, his sight adjusted, and he bent over to check on you.

You lay still, silent, almost... peaceful, bathed in the pale blue light. It was as though you were merely sleeping, not unconscious from injury and exhaustion.

Nebarra hesitated for a moment, then tugged off a gauntlet, resting his hand against your forehead.

Good – no fever. You were warm, yes – certainly warmer than he felt at the moment – but not to the point of concern.

A sigh of relief escaped him, even as something sour churned in his stomach.

Why did he care so much, anyway?

"This is just... so we're equal now," he mumbled to you, even as he brushed his thumb across your furrowed brow, smoothing it gently. "You saved my life, so now I'm saving yours. That's – that's all there is to it."

He definitely wasn't being influenced by something like personal feelings. Not in the slightest. Not for you, and not for what happened to Ca–

He cut the thought short. He really, really needed to stop drawing comparisons between the two of you.

But today, just like that day... it had been his fault. He hadn't been prepared, hadn't seen the enemy coming, and his negligence had nearly cost your life.

Just like Camia.

Only... she had died.

Nebarra couldn't go through that again. He couldn't bear to watch another fall because of his own shortcomings, and those moments when you collapsed – inside the tower, alongside the road – something had gripped him, a primal, visceral fear that he couldn't explain. Because even when Camia fell, crumpling before his eyes, this feeling hadn't been there – only the numbness of shock, giving way slowly to anger, anger at her killer, and anger at himself. But with you... something was different, so very different.

What were you doing to him?

...No, he already knew the answer to that. Gods, even Xelzaz knew – a truly horrifying thought. But Nebarra... he'd been turning away from the truth, just as a madman tries to hide from the desert sun.

And he wasn't sure how much longer he could do it.

A soft puff sounded overhead, the Candlelight spell's time run out, and the Altmer was plunged back into darkness. Quietly, he turned his back towards you and sank to the floor once more, legs stretching out before him, gauntlet resting on his lap. He wasn't as tired as he had been earlier, when he first brought you in from the rain, nor did his body ache to the same degree, but something else in him felt... raw, wounded.

He wished it would just go away. That he would see you as he first had, that day by the burning caravan: just another slek who'd happened to be at the right place at the right time and willing to spare him a healing potion. If he'd still felt that way, then maybe things wouldn't be so difficult for him now.

And yet... and yet...

Nebarra shook the thoughts away – they were giving him a headache, and if he was being honest, maybe his heart hurt a little, too. But... especially a headache. And his helmet wasn't helping.

He glanced at you, still unconscious, unmoving. Then, slowly, reached up – and removed his helm.

And promptly winced, his bangs snagging on the eyeslit. He really needed a haircut. Maybe he should just... borrow a dagger from you or Xelzaz, chop it off himself – his sword was too big, too unwieldy for such delicate work, and he might slice a finger instead of his hair.

With a faint huff, he ran his hand through the tangled locks, letting his head tilt back until nothing but the ceiling filled his view. It was... strange, feeling the air on his face again, but refreshing.

At least, as refreshing as it could be, covered as he was in dried sweat and blood and rainwater. Forget a haircut, he needed a bath.

Hadn't he seen a handpump outside? It was likely to be cold – everything in Skyrim was cold – but the water was probably drawn from the river nearby, and its had seemed clean enough. It would have to do, he supposed.

Glancing once more at you, ensuring you were still asleep, Nebarra rose quietly to his feet and made his way outside, careful not to let the door slam behind him.

The night air was brisk and cold, nipping at his exposed face and hand like a dozen tiny ice wraiths. He paid it no mind as he began shedding his armour, resting it against the porch railing piece by piece, until he was left in nothing but a shirt and trousers. After a moment's pause, he pulled them off as well, then made his way to the water pump.

As expected, the water was freezing. Just splashing his palm seemed to turn his veins to ice, goosebumps forming all across his skin. But it was either that, or stay coated in muck for another eight, twelve, maybe even twenty hours.

...Frigid water, it was.

By the time he finished, he felt more like an icicle than an Altmer, but at least he was clean. Retreating back to the porch, he dried himself off with his shirt, laid it out over the railing to dry, and finally tugged his trousers back on – his nether regions had not appreciated the cold.

Nebarra glanced through the window, towards where he knew you lay.

Were you cold, too? He'd thought your temperature was fine, but... he should have at least thrown a blanket over you, just in case. What if you got sick?

Before he knew it, he found himself by your bedside once more, shaking out a blanket and draping it carefully over you.

He tried to tell himself it meant nothing – that he was just doing a decent thing, being a decent person, trying to keep you healthy and safe.

But... he wasn't a decent person. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done something decent for anyone.

So why you?

I don't know, he lied, turning away. I don't know. I don't–

A soft clatter – his foot had knocked against something. Nebarra paused, thoughts of denial interrupted as he looked down. He found himself staring at a wine bottle, still full of the dark liquid, half-hidden under the bed.

...Oho.

Nebarra dropped into a crouch, intending to snag the bottle out from under the bedframe – but there, pushed further in, his eyes caught on an an even greater treasure: an entire crate-full of wine bottles.

The gods had a sense of humour.

Fishing the crate and stray bottle out, Nebarra carted them outside to the porch, popped the cork on one, and set to work.

No more thinking for him, tonight. No more confusing feeling for him, tonight. Just wine, and the gods that surely were watching from above.

He fingertips tingled by the third bottle; he was tipsy by the fourth. Drunk by the sixth. And on the eight –

"...Nebarra?"

Your voice, behind him. Soft, disbelieving, rasping. Filling him with a warmth so very different, distinct from the heat of the wine. His head snapped around – and in the moonlight, your eyes widened. Lips parted, teeth flashing. A breathy laugh escaped.

"Oh. I'm... dreaming."

"What makes you say that?" he mumbled, and you pointed at his face.

"Your helmet. It's gone."

He froze. Glanced across the porch. His helmet hung on the edge of the railing, shining, mocking.

As a dozen expletives ran through his mind, you said softly, "Funny. Even dreaming... I still can't see your face."

Nebarra frowned, wondering why, how – ah. Turned as he was, the moon was behind him, the clouds further shrouding its light. You... probably couldn't see much more than his silhouette.

Relief. Disappointment. He wasn't sure which he felt more of.

You motioned vaguely at the wine. "Mind if I join you?"

"...Why not."

Wait. No, that wasn't right. He was supposed to have said no – he should have said no –

Unaware of his inner turmoil, you sat quietly down before him, tugging the crate nearer to you. As you did, he noticed most of your armour was gone – only your shirt and trousers remained. Had you removed it inside? How had he not heard the sound of the metal and leather? How drunk was he?

"How many have you had?" you asked, as though you could read his mind, eyeing the near-empty crate.

"...Not enough."

You let out a soft snort, reaching for a bottle and popping the cork. Nebarra watched as you brought it up to your lips... your... lips...

He jolted. "Wait – you shouldn't. You're – you're hurt."

In the darkness, he could just make out the gleam of your eyes as you stared at him. Then, a laugh bubbled free, slipping past your lips like a song. "Oh, oh – that's too funny." You rubbed your face with a free hand, wiping tears from your eyes. "Now I know I'm dreaming."

"What's so funny?" Nebarra demanded, and just as suddenly as it had come, your laughter ceased.

"You're worrying. About me."

Oh. You... had him there.

"Anyway," you continued, "even if this wasn't a dream, I doubt a few drinks will do more harm than Xelzaz can heal. Although he might yell at me for being stupid." You pointed towards him with the bottle, teasing, "I'll just tell him it's your fault."

"Go ahead." It was the truth, anyway. At least one of you could say it.

You didn't answer, but he saw your teeth flash a smile in the darkness.

And so, the two of you sat together in silence for some time, slowly draining bottle after bottle. By the time they all were emptied, you were wasted – and so was he.

It was the only way he could explain how the two of you had moved so much closer together, how you reached out and began playing with his fingers, how he didn't pull away from your touch.

How, slowly, you looked up, locked eyes with him, and brought your hand up to his face, gently tracing its curves. How he stupidly, greedily, leaned into your touch.

"Nebarra."

He'd never thought an insult could be said so gently, so tenderly. He... wanted you to say his name like that. His real name. He could almost hear it on your tongue, your lips –

Your... slowly approaching lips.

His breath caught. Something screamed warnings in his mind. But he wanted, wanted–

He put his hand to your shoulder, pushed you gently away. "...Don't." His voice cracked. He couldn't meet your gaze, couldn't bear to see the hurt he knew he'd just caused.

Coward.

For a moment, you were silent. Then, "I... I'm sorry. I'm not... I thought..." The porch creaked as you leaned back, away. "I think I should... wake up now. Maybe if I go back to bed..." A soft laugh escaped; there was no humour in it. "Funny. Going to sleep, in order to wake..."

As you rose, turning away, walking back into the house, Nebarra tried to tell himself it was for the best. Best for you, for him. In fact, it probably would have been better if you'd never met at all, if you'd never asked him to follow you, if he'd never agreed to. Although... he'd never have seen your smile, then. Never heard your laugh. Never heard you call his name – the insult he'd chosen for himself. Never... seen your eyes, full of passion and ferocity, or compassion and tenderness...

"Wait." The word slipped out before he could stop it; he found himself getting to his feet, stumbling into the house after you, catching your wrist. "I... Stay."

Just for one night. Just one. He could... he could have that much, couldn't he?

In the gloom, your eyes met his, shadowed with emotions that he couldn't even begin to describe. "This isn't really a dream, is it?"

"No," he confessed.

Wordlessly you reached up, stroked his cheek. "...Alright. I'll stay."

Nebarra worked his jaw; he wanted to say more, knew he shouldn't say more. But as his eyes roved across your face, settling on your lips, his thoughts muddled.

Gods damnit.

And so, before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, he reached out and cradled your face in his hand, fingers lacing through your hair. He could hear the soft hitch of your breath, but you didn't pull away.

Maybe you should have.

Even as he drew you closer, tilting your head towards his, you didn't resist. And when he paused, lips hoovering a hairsbreadth from yours –

– you closed the distance first.

Your lips burned; he tasted wine as he brushed his tongue across them. He tried to tell himself that was the only reason he deepened the kiss, greedy, hungering.

And even if it wasn't... it was just one kiss. Alcohol in both your systems. Bodies and minds exhausted from the long day... It would be fine, something to forget by morning.

So... just for tonight.

He rocked a step back, pulling you with him until his back hit the wall. Your arms wrapped around his neck, hands tangling in his unkempt hair – and as you gave a gentle tug, a rush of pleasure surged through him, and he was never so glad he hadn't cut it.

Mind hazy, his hands moving almost on their own, they slid down and beneath your shirt; he could feel you quiver at the touch. He rubbed slow, gentle circles on your skin, moving gradually upward, inward, until his hands cupped your chest.

You gasped into the kiss, though it quickly became a moan as he brushed his thumbs across.

He'd never thought a sound could be so beautiful. Never thought he'd be the reason you'd make it. Never thought he'd want to hear it again so, so desperately.

Breaking away from the kiss, lips slick, panting heavily, he spun the two of you around so that it was your back was up against the wall. When he met your gaze, checking for permission, your eyes were dark, needy.

Divines, you were stunning.

"Go on," you mumbled, resting your forehead against his, your breaths mingling with his. "Don't... don't stop."

That was all he needed to hear.

...Just tonight.

The words echoed in his mind as clothes were shed, a silent mantra, a reminder to himself.

Just tonight, he thought, as your gasps and moans had him pulling you to the bed, pushing you down on it.

Just... tonight, he lied, as your body welcomed his, sheets tangling, bed creaking.

Just tonight.

And as white light bloomed behind his eyes, your body quivering with pleasure beneath him, his name on your lips, Nebarra knew – it was too late.

He was doomed.

#nebarra #skyrim nebarra #nebarra skyrim #whisper writes #....i'm sorry

[marwhoa]

request: Musician Reader who has a concert in some soon time (maybe in a month or even could be less than a month)

And is stressed about it because not only the concert is coming near and it feels like every practice time, something would go wrong (maybe keep messing up part of the piece or feels like they dont have enough time?) Especially since the concert is the reader's and (insert turtle's) anniversary and didnt want to mess things up (also to make it more special reader composed a song for the anniv!) But at the end reader managed and played it in the concert as (insert turtle) watch them play the song! (Ofc hidden because ya know.. mutant whole situation lol)

🝮 “ mikey & the rose burns ”

rise!mikey x rockstar!g/n

author’s note: i totally wasn’t listening to “pov: you’re at a concert” YouTube playlists, just in case you were wondering? while i was editing the format to post this, the font size suddenly became large asf so i hope this posts normal 💀 (help me)

word count: 1.4k

As your hands fiddled with your guitar’s tuning heads, the nervous buzz coursing through your very soul could hardly be brushed aside. There was a performance quickly approaching, and the stakes were higher than ever. It was your first gig in a much bigger stage, which meant this was going to pull an even bigger audience than any shoddy underground basement bar could ever draw in.

Not only that, but this concert had sunk its teeth straight into you and your boyfriend’s anniversary date.

So, to say that you were a tad bit stressed by the heat set for this show? Well, now that would be a gross under-statement.

“ Damn it, try it again, Y/N, you missed your cue, scatterbrain! “

“ Ah, sorry Missy. “

You winced at your drummist’s outburst, tuning back into the present training session. There was only a few weeks left until this performance, and you needed to get it squared away. Missy huffed, ticking away on the drums as she cocked her head towards the band’s bassist, Jonah. You three were a ragtag crew, brought together by your producer after he felt you all would sound better together, rather than separate.

Fortunately for them, your vocals and lyricism skills were top notch, and being a lead guitarist who could sing? Well, that was just the common assumption, so it’s a good thing you nail both tasks, right?

Or well, you did. Until these mock sessions.

Each practice brought with it a set of problems, be it the strings of Jonah’s bass snapping last week, or Missy’s drumming being off key the first week, something had gone wrong. Now it was your turn, with poor timing and absentminded moments, it couldn’t have been a worse cocktail of trouble to give you cold feet.

“ Hey guys, I brought—whoa! You guys look horrible! Break time? “

The best part of it all was your adoring boyfriend dropping in on practice for whatever reasons he had in mind. Jonah and Missy were down-to-earth enough that Mikey’s… “ appearance ” was just another Tuesday to them, especially when he brought his amazing home cooked meals by.

“ Whoa Mikey, is that a pork risotto!? Haven’t you been spending months to perfect this? ”

Jonah collapsed at the table, inhaling the delicious aroma deeply as Missy sat just as roughly, practically salivating.

“ Jeez, Y/N, I’m so jealous that you get to experience culinary genius whenever you want! ”

“ What? No way, he’s my boyfriend, not my chef. I cook for myself a lot! “

Puffing out your chest, you feigned a playful air of “ insulted beyond belief!” and happily dug in to the bowl Mikey placed in front of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead before turning his gaze to everyone’s instruments.

“ Is practice running any smoother, guys? ”

He asked, jumping back a bit as he turned around to see everyone’s dulled spirits.

“ Ah man, Mikey, it’s… Well, it’s going, I guess. “

You sighed out, chomping a bite of the more-than-delightful array expanding out in your mouth. Flavors bounded across your tongue in an all-too-inspiring fashion. This happened to be just the light to ignite in your chest to get through this practice.

The night carried on with higher spirits, as it started to finally turn up. Mikey lingered, taking on the role of “ Personal Hype Man ”, which served to be just the buzz you all needed to wipe away some of the stress of the night.

Although, there was one song you all were keeping hidden from Mikey. It was going to be the “ bang! ” of the concert, a group-written song filled with everyone’s emotions. Consider it a thank-you letter, addressed to Mikey personally—with a teensy love letter tucked in, a solo verse written by your heart alone. Since the performance clouded any chance of a sweet anniversary date, your bandmates got the bright idea to make the concert the date! And they both had more than enough thanks to give to your boyfriend to begin with.

I mean, he boosted morale so much more than y’all’s shifty producer, from his warm meals to the refreshments all the way up to the hype man parts. If it weren’t for him, there may have been a longer road of fear and stress leading up to this gig.

So, you all grit your teeth and powered through mistakes, each trying to make your next practice better than the last. Each replay of the lyrics, strings, and the music left the band invigorated, hardly able to sleep at night, and much too excited for the upcoming night.

With all that preparation, the only thing buzzing through each of y’all as the room stirred with anticipation was straight, pure, and raw confidence.

“ Thank you for coming tonight—let me hear y’all give a great big yell for the Rose Burns! “

You leaned back from the mic, grinning wildly as your eyes cascaded across the sea of fans screaming out for y’all to play. One deep breath later and you all set off, playing through song to song. Under the stage lights, beads of sweat rolled down your head, but there wasn’t a care in the world as you all carried each lyric and note through with perfection. The fear chilling each practice was no where to be seen, and no mistakes sunk their teeth into any verse.

Heavy boots stomped to the beats, both on stage and from the fans before you. Lyrics slid from you and your mates’ lips like venom, bitter yet irresistible, and the music was enough to make even the shyest listener hear tonight jump and scream.

Cries from the crowd—some singing along, others cheering and dancing—pumped the band even further. As everything snowballed even bigger, your eyes finally landed upon the one you loved the most, up along the ceiling, perched along the building’s iron beams. Mikey could be seen bouncing along to each song as if he himself had written them. As a fan from one of your first solo gigs, you may have been insulted if he didn’t know every word. Well, to all but one of your songs. This one was a surprise.

“ This next song will be the last for the night, and is dedicated to a special someone in the crowd today. ”

You winked, watching the audience exchange glances as if looking for the special someone they’d never find. Pick in hand, you shook off the nervous jitters, exchanged glances with your mates, and yelled out a big “ let’s go ! “

Music filled the room, vibrating the floors, chairs, reverberating through the soles of the moving crowd. Not a single person was still nor quiet, as the room filled with the experience of loud, shared energy. This was an experience to go down in your memory, and you hoped that it would become a song that Mikey put on repeat.

Energy surged through the song, enlivening the room as Mikey regularly did. Notes bounding around the area’s walls with the very same fire he did everything with. Warmth filled the room, embodying those delicious moments at the table, and the crescendos of the music had everyone on their tippy-toes as it spilled into your solo.

Your voice wavered, standing strong as it was left to its self. Jonah and Missy’s instruments paled in the presence of your words, all spearing Mikey perfectly through the heart. Its message blanketed the audience, yet lovingly suffocated its receiver, straight until the last note. The words roared and filled the air, captivating with a tinge of longing that pushed you further.

The song’s end was one so impactful and subtle that the cheers and applause skipped for a second until roars bombarded the stage. Everyone poured their soul into tonight, and the energy of the crowd was evidence enough of its success.

“ Good night, New York! ”

All three of y’all beamed into your mics, laughing at some of the random remarks thrown from the audience. As the curtains drew, you caught sight of an orange blur that surely would meet you backstage.

First to the back, you were met by affectionate hands scooping you up into a tight embrace. Your back met the wall, and without warning your boyfriend’s lips met yours.

“ You were—that was, amazing! ”

Out of breath, Mikey’s hands cupped your cheeks roughly as he placed more and more kisses on your face and lips, up until you were both unraveling with laughter.

“ Hey, hey, lovebirds, leave that for your backstage rooms! ”

Missy and Jonah teased, dragging you both away with cacophonous laughter. Tonight had been a hit, and the future would only prove to bring even more packed nights.

#Mikey x reader #michaelangelo x reader #michelangelo x reader #rottmnt michelangelo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt michaelangelo x reader #rise michelangelo x reader #Rise michaelangelo x reader #rise mikey x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt michelangelo x reader #tmnt michaelangelo x reader #rise tmnt mikey x reader #rise tmnt Michelangelo x reader #rise tmnt michaelangelo x reader

[the-only-authority]

Authority,

You are the last person I have yet to send an apology to. This was on purpose. If I'm going to be honest, you are actually extremely intimidating and therefore the most anxiety-inducing when I have wronged you. Which I have. Repeatedly.

Much of the points here are the same as Suggestion's, though I will repeat them anyway for clarity. ("Or I will live, or bathe my dying honour in the blood, shall make it live again..." For some reason, I keep thinking of that quote when I talk to you. Maybe it is fitting here.)

Repeatedly -- in fact, from the very beginning -- I have assassinated your character, disgracing and ridiculing you with no reason to do so whatsoever. Admittedly, I do find it difficult to navigate what you would and would not find disrespectful. But by this point, I should be able to understand the general fact that my ignominy is highly dishonourable. I know our stubborn attitudes may clash at times, but regardless of this, I should know by now to not question you on these sorts of matters.

Furthermore, like Suggestion, I should *not* have allowed myself to fall into that trap of disregarding how you would have felt to have seen an impostor taking on your mannerisms and making extremely violating claims; and I should have owned up to what I had done earlier on to prevent this from simmering for so long. That was horrible and absolutely revolting of me to do.

I am thankful that you did not List me for this. I'd like to be able to stay off that list. If there is anything I can do to have my name cleared, anything I can do to pay reparations for my transgressions, please. I give you the same offer I presented to Suggestion; say the words and I will complete the task given to the best of my ability.

I should also note that I'm extremely thankful for the support you have cast my way. Not just in recent -- by taking one of my entries off the List after I confronted Rhetoric, by defending my temporary stint as a Psyche skill (even if that was a stupid idea) even against your second-in-command, by encouraging me to remember how to do my job in order to help Savoir Faire -- but also in general. I still think of your guarding during my shut-down, back during the secret admirer debacle, you know. I am in complete debt to you. I'm serious about this. I feel horrible for my behaviour in light of this.

I don't expect you to accept any apologies here; all I seek is to form a foundation for me to build respect in your eyes back up again. (Hopefully this hasn't been too grovel-y for that. My words here are honest. I have learned from my previous bouts of miscommunication with others.)

I hope that eventually we will be on speaking terms once more. I have made a pledge to improve my behaviour and intend to enact this moving forward.

Trick-or-treat, Authority.

With all due respect, @in-omni-scientia

I can respect someone owning up to their mistakes, even if your groveling here makes it hard in your specific case. I suppose, as you pointed out, that just comes with the territory of speaking to me, as I am of intimidating statue and mind.

Furthermore, I am nothing but merciful - you must have noticed, that I have allowed dialogue between us in the past days - more than you deserved at that point.

When I support you, I do my job. You should remember doing yours even in situation where you get... distracted.

You are not getting off the List competely. I will take this into account, however. There have to be some calculations, considering that you messaged me "last", however.

As a show of good will I am going to use the text editing tools recently discovered by me to give criticism on your meandering, lengthy letter:

Authority,

You are the last person I have yet to send an apology to. This was on purpose. If I'm going to be honest, you are actually extremely intimidating and therefore the most anxiety-inducing when I have wronged you. Which I have. Repeatedly.

Much of the points here are the same as Suggestion's, though I will repeat them anyway for clarity. ("Or I will live, or bathe my dying honour in the blood, shall make it live again..." For some reason, I keep thinking of that quote when I talk to you. Maybe it is fitting here.)

Repeatedly -- in fact, from the very beginning -- I have assassinated your character, disgracing and ridiculing you with no reason to do so whatsoever. Admittedly, I do find it difficult to navigate what you would and would not find disrespectful. But by this point, I should be able to understand the general fact that my ignominy is highly dishonourable. I know our stubborn attitudes may clash at times, but regardless of this, I should know by now to not question you on these sorts of matters.

Furthermore, like Suggestion, I should *not* have allowed myself to fall into that trap of disregarding how you would have felt to have seen an impostor taking on your mannerisms and making extremely violating claims; and I should have owned up to what I had done earlier on to prevent this from simmering for so long. That was horrible and absolutely revolting of me to do.

I am thankful that you did not List me for this. I'd like to be able to stay off that list. If there is anything I can do to have my name cleared, anything I can do to pay reparations for my transgressions, please. I give you the same offer I presented to Suggestion; say the words and I will complete the task given to the best of my ability.

I should also note that I'm extremely thankful for the support you have cast my way. Not just in recent -- by taking one of my entries off the List after I confronted Rhetoric, by defending my temporary stint as a Psyche skill (even if that was a stupid idea) even against your second-in-command, by encouraging me to remember how to do my job in order to help Savoir Faire -- but also in general. I still think of your guarding during my shut-down, back during the secret admirer debacle, you know. I am in complete debt to you. I'm serious about this. I feel horrible for my behaviour in light of this.

I don't expect you to accept any apologies here; all I seek is to form a foundation for me to build respect in your eyes back up again. (Hopefully this hasn't been too grovel-y for that. My words here are honest. I have learned from my previous bouts of miscommunication with others.)

I hope that eventually we will be on speaking terms once more. I have made a pledge to improve my behaviour and intend to enact this moving forward.

Trick-or-treat, Authority.

With all due respect, @in-omni-scientia

#skillsposting

[ladymdc]

I had a question for you! I recently got into fic writing and I admit that I am far from good, but I found it to be fun and two of my friends help edit it and help me out. Some people liked it and I really got into it. A week ago, I got a really long, nasty comment that basically told me I was a horrible writer and that I should never publish again, plus said I should get new editors. It was awful. I don't even really want to write anymore after the hateful things they said. I know I'm not great and have a lot to learn but it was really discouraging. Has that ever happened to you on your fics? Do you have any advice on how to bounce back?

This is going to be long, but I have Feelings™️ about this…

First, I want to say I’m sorry this happened to you. No matter how much skill or experience you have or don’t have, you didn’t deserve it. It makes me mad when readers feel the need to be cruel when this is a hobby for most of us & something we do for joy. It was this individual’s responsibility to simply click the back button & go find something else, not tear you down.

That said, I’ve had quite a few unpleasant fandom experiences from unwelcome critique to stealing/copying my work, & it’s hard to come back from, especially early on when you’re just starting to figure it out— but there are a few things that have helped me over the years:

Time is a given & so is being kind to yourself, so give yourself those things ♥️ Revisiting the work & pulling out things I like is a big help. It’s too easy to see the flaws after a nasty comment, so find what sparked joy in the first place. If the negative is too loud, turn it into what you would’ve done differently, but don’t beat yourself up either. I see things I would do different all the time. It’s just a part of growing. Stuff I know for next time! But the biggest help has been my friends.

I am lucky enough to have two friends who have been with me through most of my writing journey & I have picked up a few more along the way. But having them listen & support me & give a big “fuck that person” after stuff like this helps tremendously.

So, next, I’d like to say: fuck that person.

The ‘want to quit’ feelings they left you with are valid, but their actions were not. We can’t find our voice & style & all the things that piece us together as a writer without stumbling through the process. Here, my friends & I like to say that spite is a pretty solid motivator, & it is.

Don’t quit. Don’t let this person win. Tell your story. Grow. Write another chapter and dedicate it to them. And it’s okay to not be ready to do that yet, but I encourage you to do it. This shit gets easier to field as your skin gets thicker & it is *so freeing* when you get there, but it takes time, just like developing your craft. Things I wrote 7 years ago would be so different if I wrote it today. It’s just how it is.

I wish you all the best anon & I don’t know if any of this was helpful to you, but I hope it made you feel better— even a little— & that you keep writing. We all start somewhere ♥️✨

#on writing #I’m so sorry anon #I would hug you if I could — or not if you’re not big on hugs #& in that case I’d give you a cup of tea or coffee & blanket to burrito in

[whetstonefires]

💖🎶🛒

For the fanfic ask meme :3

💖 What made you start writing?

I...okay so there's a dumb literal answer to this I'm going to give first. My sixth grade English class was a two-semester-long creative writing seminar, where we were honestly taught almost nothing; the teacher just. Made us write things. Whatever things. For months.

She was incredibly patient with our baby shit, looking back, although when two of her students started writing execrable sixth grade poetry she set us on each other so we could get feedback without her, and managed not to make it obvious she was trying to escape the horror of sing-song childish scansion and the way kids that age take themselves horribly seriously and you have to not laugh.

Her name was Keely and I owe her, because up to that point I had refused to write my ideas down because if I slowed down enough to get a sentence written out I'd have forgotten all the bits that came after and the story was now dead and stupid and it was the worst, so writing was clearly not for me.

(I couldn't really type at this point, and didn't have reliable computer access anyway, and I'm left-handed, which makes writing longhand slightly slower and more difficult no matter what you do. Also you just don't write fast when you're ten.)

But Keely made me, for months, and it turned out this was a skillset I'd just had to work to acquire, and then I could do it and it wasn't a miserable soul-killing process after all. That's the first time I remember learning that lesson in life, and it's such a useful one. (Technically I went through a similar process with reading several years earlier, but that was partly because some very bad pedagogy put me off it at first, so it was less enlightening.)

Less prosaically, I got stuck on writing because I was a voracious reader and I kept thinking up stories, and writing them down was rewarding.

I find it's a great craft because you can get in all kinds of practice without actually doing it; you can string and edit sentences in your head when you have nothing to do or while doing something boring, and critique fiction you're exposed to, and try to understand literally anything you experience, and it's all applicable. As someone who gets frustrated with 1) materials consumed 2) skill plateaus and 3) having a Thing around after having made it, writing in the era of the word processor and cheap data storage is ideal, because it's both easier to keep my skills growing and harder to notice when they aren't than with most creative outlets, because I can store all the millions of words I've written in an object the size of my thumbnail, and because it's not supposed to do anything useful in the first place. If it does that's a happy bonus but if it doesn't I don't have to feel bad.

Fic is nice because it's got an audience to share the Things with, which makes it even better. And because you get to start at around the complexity level of a third or even fourth draft, skipping a lot of grunt work that I think is honestly overvalued--not that it's not valuable or important skill to have, especially if you want to be a novelist, but also there's a reason people on the whole mostly tell familiar stories over again, but better. The first go will suck in basically any medium. Insisting on starting there every time can lead to subtler skills getting underdeveloped.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Occasionally? Most of the time it would just be a distraction I'd have to work through, setting myself up for sensory overload and maybe a migraine.

But when I do it often is a single song on a loop, because the point is that I'm keeping myself suspended in a particular vibe as I pursue a specific scene or character relationship or something. Hasn't happened recently, but I should maybe pull that trick out and see if it helps with any of my stuck pieces.

I seem to recall writing something once to about 19 iterations of Dessa's 'The Lamb?' Oh and several passages of Angels Still Have Faces were written to the Sonata Arctica song I took the title from; it helped me get Angeal to the right state of repressed extreme melodrama.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Um. Food? Definitely food, between my strong opinions about subsistence informing social priorities and my personal sense that meals are both a major part of the daily pattern of life and very grounding in a place and body, I come back to it endlessly. 'Two people in a room (or other defined space granting privacy) trying so so hard to communicate' is, you know, pretty common motif but I go embarrassingly hard on it.

I'm a sucker for certain flavors of angst, and for when someone is very hopeless and then someone else gives them support. I think maybe people breaking down and asking for help and then actually getting it? And just how gross and messy it feels to be miserable and how much of it happens in the body.

What else? I feel like a third party would be better able to call me out on my patterns. A lot of them after all are the patterns of my thoughts, to a sufficient extent that I experience the universe in those terms by default and that's why it keeps being there.

When I describe hugs I tend to be very precise about where everyone's arms are because I feel like that's important. I try to be specific about features of nature like the species of a bird or tree or whatever, unless the pov character wouldn't notice such a thing, and even then I often know for the sake of precision. Lots of hand gestures, and putting of one's hands on pieces of scenery and so forth, that's my theater background coming through mostly. A tendency to emphasize the kinetic relationship between objects perhaps a bit more than usual.

If I'm describing a character that has an existing visual form, I drill in on the most distinctive details I can find; this is probably by way of mild face-blindness meaning I care a great deal about whether someone has a crooked eyebrow or distinctive dimpling or something, because I'm not going to learn their face fast enough to get away with not being able to id them and call them by name until then. It usually takes months.

Diana Wynne Jones advised making sure your mental image when you describe something, especially a place, is as precise as possible, so you won't decline into abstraction, and I've found following this advice to reliably net good results. If you only know about the things you actually mention, things get flat real fast.

(The trick then is not getting bogged down in deciding which things to mention.)

I dunno, what would you guys say are my signature moves?

#ask #hoc est meum #corgisenpai #ask game #writing #fanfiction

[bloombubs]

Firstly, yes, you did tag it correctly! And second, please feel free to give me all of your thesis statements on Adrian Chase, if you wanna write a 10,000 word essay about that man best believe I will read it.

I also really love the idea of him having someone to come home to, to take care of and be taken care of by (and by God I love imagining I’m that person). I just want him to feel loved.

thank you for the ao3 help!!

adrian needs to be taken care of like the precious lil person he is and someone who accepts his....quirks for him.

As for thesis, of Adrian showing how he loves.......here we go:

Okay, small disclaimer before we delve into this: this is solely based on the perception I have in my head of Adrian Chase. This also isn’t listed in any particular order (just the order I copied and pasted it from lol). The more i wrote the more carried away I got oops. this isn't edited or revised but just pure nonsense spewing from the depths of my mind

Words of affirmation

In my mind, Adrian will constantly tell you that he loves you and that he misses you–especially when appropriate after the relationship develops. Without a doubt, he would compliment you on your looks, your new haircut, if he likes an outfit, if you smell good. He’s a chatty guy, he will say whatever comes straight to his mind. As for other things, I think you would tell him if you like hearing if he’s proud of you or deeper words of affirmations like “I value you”--he would say it, but he definitely says it in his own way. He definitely shows his appreciation better than words because in my head, I don’t see him being the best at articulating his feelings into words. But like, “you’re awesome!” or “dude (affectionately), you have no idea how cool you are for doing that.” Again, not as deep or romantic, but you know the intention of it. 

In bed? Different story. He loves praising you and….he loves being praised too. He will tell you how good you feel, how good you make him feel, complimenting anything his eyes land on, your skills, how in love he is with you. 

Quality time

Adrian is a sucker for quality time. Adrian in my mind is a bit clingy, but not in a negative way. I’m sure he gave you the proper space when you ask, but as mentioned in my other writings–Adrian wants to do everything with you from the most mundane activities to the most exciting. Doctor’s appointment? He’d be there holding your hand. Sitting on the couch with you and doing separate hobbies (Idk, I can see him cleaning his weapons and you’re doing a normal hobby, with the tv on in the background)? His favorite. Cooking dinner? He’s right beside you, or sitting down nearby to talk and ramble. Dancing in the living room together? He’s throwing it back. Singing horribly in his Vigilante mobile? You know it. 

Oh, don’t even get me started on his rambles. I’m not sure where this one falls in since it’s between physical touch and quality time, but I can vividly imagine this: two of you sitting on the couch, eating dinner, the tv playing in the background, your back is pressed against the arm of the couch and his is on the other, legs intertwined. Adrian is just talking, telling you random facts, stupid details about his day, going on about his missions that he promised he wouldn’t disclose with you (but does anyway), he talks about movies, the news—honestly, all everything and anything. 

Just seeing you in his line of sight is comforting enough for him. 

Coming back from patrols and missions truly makes his night when he comes home to see you, or knowing he’s hours closer to having you in his arms again.

He doesn’t want to miss a moment with you. 

Physical touch

This one definitely develops in the span of a relationship, all for different reasons. Emotionally, I think it takes a bit for him to understand what feels nice to be comforted and how you want to be comforted because each person is different. But also for him? He gives me touch deprived energy before you came into his life. 

He loves having you in his arms, making sure you feel safe and comfortable.

Basic things I’ve mentioned: massages, dancing, lotions on the leg, coming home and embracing you and lifting you off the ground with a twirl, peppering your face and neck with kisses, caressing your skin, needing to be touching you somehow, anyway. 

Brushing your hair, taking baths and showers with you, love bites, holding your hand while driving, back rubs to help you fall asleep, laying his head in your lap, his hand on your thigh when sitting together, totally fine with being either the small or big spoon. 

Obviously he can’t keep his hands off of you and you wouldn’t want them off of you. 

This man will make sure you’re satisfied before the night ends. He’ll keep going until you both can’t anymore.

Acts of service

Adrian shows his love with acts of service. I feel like this one tied with quality time, just in the sense that in the beginning of the relationship, these were the top two dominant ones. The basic act of service would be doing anything to protect you, right? It’s a given. Domestic wise? He would spoil you with simple things. I mentioned this before, but he definitely would love helping you apply lotion to your body, massages (physical touch, I know, but your body aches and he just wants you to be feeling your best self), if you cook, he cleans the dishes–or sometimes he cooks too. Holding doors open for you, developing photos you take together, killing the scary bugs, definitely pampering you wholesomely and in a risque manner—this man ALWAYS asks what he can do to make your day better. 

I can see him running a nice bath for you, pouring you a cheap glass of wine, heating up a towel for you when you get out, wrapping you up in one of his shirts or hoodies before pulling you into bed.

 Receiving gifts

This may not be the typical gift, but I can’t see him having a whole lot of money, but he sure is thoughtful. He’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks (this could be acts of service too imo), if you have a favorite show/band/book he will try to buy you something that reminds you of it, or even merch. He’ll fill your gas tank up without telling you because he wants to surprise you. He’ll definitely come home with dinner from Fennel Fields too. Oh!!! If they go on a mission a bit far, Adrian will pick up something random, but something that reminds him of you.

Do dick pics from days being apart count?

#( answered ) #adrian chase imagine #idk too scared to tag this for actual writing lol

[chenyann]

Rating my cutie mooties♡

Mainly bc I didn't have the best day and yall were here and making me giggle/feel better🤭

kinda like mutual appreciation week(?) Also be aware I'm not the best at expressing things so if it comes off as rude/uncaring or bland I'm so sorry!! (this isn't in any order so don't think if someone is on top that means I like them better also if you were not added that is because we don't really interact with each other much and I'm too shy to start doing it now-)

@pandoa 1 or 100/10

You make weord edits of me, also that butter chicken photo you sent me won't be forgotten but, you are one of my first and beloved mutuals. I giggle, smile, twirl my hair or preparing for seeing what you've said or liked whenever you interact with me. Seeing you so randomly or you saying the most strange things brings me so much joy. You've created an icon (yakonigiri) who I'm actually preparing to bring back soon, the days yakonigiri roamed around were some of the best days (imo) and the days that we would have chats are also held close to my heart. I will love to make some more amazing memories with you as my mutual.

@puminari 8/10

It was originally 10/10 until I remembered these:

but other than that you are an amazing person, you're more on the newer side of mutuals but that doesn't matter. Seeing you in my notifications is always such a treat and I get happy knowing that you posted something. You're very funny and interacting with you is always a fun thing!(i also hope school is going good for you)

@cherrys-sweetness 15/10

I was too shy to really interact with you at first but then I got comfortable, tbh you were kinda intimidating to me when we first became moots💀 but I've came to find that it was all in my head– you're literally so sweet and funny, you also have a heart filled with gold I'm my eyes.As sweet as a cherry, as bright as the sun and as beautiful as the moon. You're a wonderful person cherry :)

@trplas 100/10

I just love you/p, you're a very sweet person and I love talking to you. When we first became moots I didn't expect us to bond this much ngl💀 but with that I feel like I grow grey hairs everytime you tell me you're injured or ill. (I won't say much bc I'll end up writing essays)

@merotwst 9/10

I'm not gonna lie, you're kinda scary. But I know you're harmless (kinda) your love for Jamil is so inspiring 💖💖 also your art is very yumyum, seeing that you posted I get excited bc of your delectable writing skills too. I enjoy talking to you (and how ur on Jamil crack but that's not the point) I was kinda panicking when you followed me but I'm glad that i was scared for nothing!

@a-hollow-angel 9/10

why won't you let me eat ur things??? Your art is yum, ur photos are yum, your theme is yum. Everything about your blog is yum and I don't find it fair that I can't eat it. You're the most sweetest person on tumblr and I will stand by this statement til I quit tumblr. -1 bc you won't let me eat ur stuff :(

@kalims 10/10

Bro we don't talk as much, but ur so amazing. Like hello ur so sweet?????? Also all ur themes are so cute 🤩 (the Luke one was the cutest imo) not gonna lie you were also very intimidating to me but that okay💀 again you're very sweet and another one with a heart of gold♡

@achy-boo 7/10

Please sleep at appropriate times😭😭😭😭 you're one of the few mutuals who I think would beat me in a fist fight. Again you're more on the intimidating side of my mutuals, but other than that you're very cool! -3 bc of the horrible sleep schedule and the fact you grinkled me.

@italoniponic 10/10

You're very sweet, you're funny, you're themes are always cute and you are over-all an amazin person to talk to! Personally you are one of the most big brained mutuals I got, all your ideas just... there are not words to explain them, the way you think is just beautiful no words can begin to describe it. That's how amazing you and your ideas are.

@moxxbox 10/10

Moxxie 😗😗😗😝😝😝😝 can we talk about ur headers, THEY ARE SO SO CUTE!!!! I fr flew to the sky when I saw them😼 but that's not what I'm here to talk about, you are really nice and very cool. I dont remember when we became moots but I'm glad we did :) chatting with you is always something i enjoy [ Also I haven't spoken to you in awhile bc i keep forgetting 😭]

@arent-i-the-fairest 10/10

I also think you can beat me in a fist fight lu, ur writing is so yum, ur theme is also yum. I hope you're doing okay and that you've been taking care of yourself. I'm glad we are moots bc I know later gonna lurk in ur inbox- you are very very nice and very fun to be around 😗✌

@rggie 15/10

Mal I hope you're doing okay😭😭 bc past time we spoke you were a little sick, but i hope that whatever you're doing you're having fun and being you. When I first interacted with ur account you were so sweet and fun to be around. Yoire themes were so beautiful and your writing was even better, I hope you're doing well.

(That's all💀 I have more mutuals but I feel like I'd be bothering them or I'm just scared to talk to them.)

If you haven't already followed some of these amazing accounts I'd recommend them ♡

#Love yall<33333 #Also I'm mad sick rn #My heater caught fire last night so it's cold I here and need to get another #Luckily we are all okay we just have to scrub the walls #Also I'm watching 'A love so beautiful' guys this shit has me crying #I'm such a cry baby #They could fr be saying hello and I'm already in tears #And I broke my glasses 💀💀💀 #I fell Asleep with them on😛😛😭😭😭 #☕|° chats

[stardustprompts]

lair of dreams  (  book 2 of the diviners series  )   -   libby bray  sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying     tw :  death ,  alcohol mention 

‘you should know that the dead don’t always want to talk to you.’

‘you’re the one who’s changed. you used to be fun before---’

‘you can keep throwing yourself at her, but she’s never going to choose you, (name). never.’

‘every time I run into him, I have to remind myself that murder is a crime.’ 

‘just don’t forget who your friends are.’

‘i’ve seen that look before. it ain’t love.’

‘I shall report you to the authorities for the crime of gin-napping!’ 

‘forget bad dreams. they’re just dreams.’

‘you know it scares me when you do this. what if you don’t come back?’

‘can I sleep in your bed with you?’

‘didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to be rude?’

‘we make our own luck.’

‘let’s not hide our love. not anymore.’

‘no one would know us there. we could be anyone. we could be free.’

‘you’re as free as you decide to be.’

‘why do all the things I love gotta leave me?’

‘don’t ever do that again.’

‘we are made by what we are asked to bear.’

‘we’ve got to play out this hand a bit.’

‘you say you don’t believe in ghosts but (name) is a ghost. and you let it haunt you.’

‘I need you alive. for awhile at least.’

‘I will murder you in your sleep.’

‘is your curiosity button on the fritz?’

‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth.’

‘if I were the last man on earth it’d be because you drove the other poor suckers to early graves.’

‘it must be nice to be so loved.’

‘you are quite possibly the rudest person I have ever met.’

‘that isn’t fair. you know I’m on your side. always.’

‘that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your lips. and you say a lot of stupid.’

‘remind me to kick you later.’

‘I like it when the stakes are high.’

‘people rarely want the truth. we say that we want it when, really, we like being lied to. we prefer the ether of hope.’

‘in an amoral, violent world, isn’t it unconscionable to keep offering hope? it’s like advertising for soap that never gets you clean.’

‘every choice has consequences. balance must be maintained.’

‘I have a firm policy that I never drink hot cocoa by myself. it’s against my religion.’

‘you may be a lot of things but weak isn’t one of them.’

‘nobody promised life would be fair.’

‘you really aren’t one for social niceties are you?’

‘I suppose you’re stuck with me, now. I apologize in advance.’

‘oh, you say the sweetest things. I think you’re awful, too.’

‘if you ever give me a complement, I might fall over dead.’

‘just because I believe in science doesn’t mean I ignore superstition.’

‘I had planned to hold that impressive skill over your head, but now I fear it’s not appropriate.’

‘from now on, no more secrets. for either of us.’

‘i’ve spent the last two hours worried that you were bleeding to death in a ditch. now that I know you’re okay, I just want you to be bleeding to death in a ditch.’

‘I don’t need any saving. what I needed was that drink.’

‘unfortunately, you care. I know you.’

‘nobody really knows anybody.’

‘I thought you’d be on my side here.’

‘I don’t know what to think when you’re not horrible. it’s very confusing.’

‘i’m always on time for my friends.’

‘I. am tired. of pretending.’

‘you promised to keep it a secret between you and me. I trusted you.’

‘thank you for saving my life.’

‘am I supposed to look up at you through fluttering eyelashes, all phoney innocence, and wait for you to feel moved?’

‘I burned that rule book awhile ago.’

‘please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.’

‘that’s always your answer isn’t it? don’t think about tomorrow.’

‘now is the only thing you can count on. it’s all we really get.’

‘would you like to make a contribution to the feeling sorry for myself fund? it’s a very worthy charity, I assure you.’

‘you can’t get rid of me that easily. we’re family.’

‘I don’t believe in tomorrow much anymore.’

‘if you came here just to get a rise out of me, mission accomplished.’

‘the party can’t go on forever.’

‘I will never leave you again.’

‘you know what the problem with water is? there’s no gin in it.’

‘can I tell you a secret? I don’t like ghosts very much. they are terrible people.’

‘I’ve seen you. the true you.’

‘I’ve seen you. the true you. you’re scared, (name). you pretend you’re not but you are.’

‘don’t cry. please don’t cry. i’ve got no defenses against tears.’

‘you can’t have my tears. I revoke them.’

‘I don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore.’

‘you wanna be alone? be alone.’

‘why did you kiss me, then, if you prefer her?’

‘I don’t want to say I told you so. but I did, in point of fact, tell you so.’

‘save your breath. you’re gonna need it.’

‘I want to tell you not to be noble, but I’m terrified.’

‘remind me never to tell you a secret again.’

‘there’s a weight on you. I can see it.’

#the diviners sentence starters #the diviners prompts #lair of dreams prompts #lair of dreams sentence starters #literature prompts #literature sentence starters #rp memes #rp sentence starters #rp prompts #period prompts #period sentence starters #the roaring 20s sentence starters #the roaring 20s prompts

[icedmetaltea]

When I was in elementary school my teacher said that I wouldn’t make it to high school let alone graduate and that I would most likely end up homeless under a bridge somewhere.

I was told that art would get me nowhere in life cause I don’t live in an area that likes art.

I’ve seen my art get ripped to shreds by another person when I was a little kid.

It was a purple dinosaur I was proud of 🌲 🦕 🌲

Last time I tried writing a story in a form that could be made into a comic or tv show I was told that’s not how you write a book so the story stopped and was never completed nor edited and sits in a binder most likely to never be seen by anyone again.

I’m scared of creating things I like and showing them off now. Nothing is ever perfect enough.

It’s still tough to show my hobbies at times but it’s not as bad since I’ve been working on it.

That's absolutely horrible anon, I'm so, so sorry :(( Nobody, let alone a kid deserves that.

People that bring you down usually only know that as the only way to bring themselves up. It's wrong ofc, but that's how I rationalize such cruel behavior.

The best way to get back at them? Love yourself. Love what you create, regardless of how "good" or "bad" it is. Create and don't stop (I mean ofc take breaks as long as you need, just like, don't fully give up)

Learn to love the shitty doodles you make in like 5 minutes, learn to enjoy the awkward angles and see beauty in the disappointing color palettes, keep creating and you WILL improve. That's not the goal tho, not to be "good" but to grow in your own way. Create things you want to see, even if it looks nothing like it does in your head. Bring something into the world that otherwise never would've existed.

Make stupid writing rough drafts and keep them regardless of how many misspells there are. Take as much time as you need, but come back to them someday. Every piece of writing is filled with little ideas and inspirations you can weave into something beautiful in its own way.

When you feel overwhelmed and disappointed and talentless, remember everyone on earth, no matter how "skilled" or "good" has felt the exact same way. Art or writing pieces you see are the result of people who also feel talentless and terrible at what they do, or at least have in the past. I know I sure have, and often do, but I continually work through it and am getting better at recognizing when my perception is just blurred via my depression or negative view of myself over all.

Self-criticism can be an amazing teacher, but often too much of it is marred by the shitty insults other people have told us through the years or by our society's constantly reinforcement that perfectionism is the goal to any craft... no. Creation is inherently beautiful. Actual "beauty" is entirely optional. It is enough just to create and enjoy what you make.

SORrrryyy long rant aside, pls don't give up. Take as much time as you need, take long walks outside, watch movies/shows/read books you enjoy, talk to loved ones, look at the stuff other ppl make and don't compare it to your own works and the inspiration will come again. It will grip you and move your hand. One day you will be proud of that purple dinosaur again.

#Answer tag #Metaltea Talks #Metaltea rambles #*gives anon the biggest of hugs* #it's gonna be okay :(