#and I wasn’t quite myself despite the good start to the morning

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

I decided the most sensible option would be to go back to sleep and eat a decent Suhoor because staying up would just mess with my sleep again, and I want enough time to eat Suhoor and pray and clean bc the kitchen is a bit messy

I gave future!Star a little bit of help by tidying a little bit when I went downstairs to feed the cats (yeah he just wanted food 💀 the hug was nice though)

And I slep now 😴

[strangespector]

Breathless

Summary: A bad habit that has consequences

Words: 1046

The flashing lights of paparazzi cameras illuminated the night, capturing Jenna Ortega in a moment that would soon be plastered all over social media. The young actress, beloved by millions, was caught with a cigarette in hand, the smoke curling up into the night sky. The pictures went viral almost instantly, eliciting reactions from fans, critics, and, most notably, her family. Jenna's mother was especially vocal about her disapproval, a sentiment echoed by the rest of her family. They knew Jenna had started smoking on set, a habit picked up in the chaotic world of Hollywood, but seeing it publicly displayed ignited a firestorm of concern and frustration.

Despite their pleas, Jenna continued smoking, a habit that became a part of her daily routine. She would often light up at home, the scent of tobacco lingering in the air. I, on the other hand, had never touched a cigarette in my life. The smoke bothered me at first, the acrid scent clinging to the furniture, my clothes, and even my hair. But I loved Jenna. She was my world, and though I disliked her smoking, I endured it because I knew how much stress she was under. I figured it was her way of coping, a temporary crutch in the high-pressure world she navigated every day.

Years passed, and Jenna's star only continued to rise. She became a household name, and with every new role, her fanbase grew. But alongside her success, her smoking habit persisted. By now, it had become second nature to her, a part of her routine as much as brushing her teeth or making coffee in the morning. I often found myself coughing, my chest tightening uncomfortably whenever the smoke hung too thick in the air. There were days when I felt short of breath, but I chalked it up to a cold or allergies. The thought that something could be seriously wrong never crossed my mind.

It wasn’t until I started losing weight rapidly, my energy levels plummeting, that I decided to see a doctor. The cough that had lingered for months turned into something more sinister, a persistent ache that gnawed at my insides. After a series of tests and a tense waiting period, the diagnosis came: lung cancer, stage three. The words hung in the air like a death sentence. The doctor explained that the cause was likely secondhand smoke, a byproduct of living with a smoker for so many years.

When I told Jenna, she was devastated. The color drained from her face as she realized the implications of what the doctor had said. This wasn't just any illness—this was a direct consequence of her habit. A habit she had nurtured and indulged, not realizing the price I would eventually pay. She cried for days, apologizing over and over, but I reassured her that I didn’t blame her. After all, it had been my choice to stay, my choice to love her despite her flaws. But deep down, I knew she carried the weight of this guilt, a burden she would never fully shake off.

The chemotherapy was brutal. Each session left me weaker than the last, my body battered and bruised by the relentless assault of drugs meant to kill the cancer. Jenna was by my side through it all, her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep and constant worry. She quit smoking immediately, the sight of a cigarette now repulsive to her. She did everything she could to make me comfortable, but the cancer had spread too far, too fast. The doctors were honest with us—it was only a matter of time.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I grew weaker. My once-strong body was now frail, a shadow of the person I used to be. Breathing became difficult, each inhale a struggle, each exhale a sigh of resignation. I knew my time was running out, and I accepted it with a calmness I hadn’t expected. I had lived a good life, a happy life, despite the challenges. And Jenna, for all her faults, had made me happier than I ever thought possible.

When the end was near, I made one final request: I wanted to go home. The hospital was cold, sterile, a place where people went to fight for their lives. But I wasn’t fighting anymore. I just wanted to be in a place that felt familiar, surrounded by the memories of a life well-lived. Jenna arranged everything, bringing me home and setting up a bed in the living room where the sunlight streamed in through the windows.

The last few days were a blur of pain and medication. I could feel myself slipping away, my consciousness fading in and out like a weak radio signal. But Jenna was always there, holding my hand, her presence a steady anchor in the storm of my fading life. I remember the last time I opened my eyes, her face blurry but unmistakable, framed by the soft afternoon light. She was crying, her tears falling silently onto our clasped hands.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry for everything."

I mustered what little strength I had left and smiled at her, a weak but genuine smile. "I forgive you," I said, my voice barely a breath. "You gave me a happy life, Jenna. That's all that matters."

And in that moment, as I looked into her tear-filled eyes, I felt a deep sense of peace. I had no regrets, no anger, only love for the woman who had been my everything. I closed my eyes, holding onto that final image of her, my heart full even as my body failed. And then, with one last breath, I let go, slipping away into the quiet darkness, leaving Jenna with the memories of our life together and the lesson learned from a habit that had cost us both so dearly.

Jenna would go on to live her life, forever changed by the experience. She would tell our story to others, a cautionary tale of love, loss, and the heavy price of a moment’s indulgence. And though I was gone, I knew she would carry me with her, in her heart, every step of the way.

[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.

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Four (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three,

Y/N Perspective.

The walk home was quiet, filled only with the sounds of the woods and the clicking noises he made. I knew where he was taking me: that den. Despite the haze that clouded my mind when I woke up this morning, I managed to recall certain details I noticed while trying to quietly escape.

It was just as you would expect from a cryptid living deep in the woods. The den was secluded, hidden by a tree line, and resembled an ominous cave. It appeared cold and empty, nothing that would stand out if you happened to notice it.

The inside told a different story. It was warm, with the floor lined with coarse furs and wool from other animals. It remained dark for the most part unless a fire was lit or the sun managed to peek through. Towards the back was the “nest” he spoke of; he said he made it for me, for us.

It was exactly what it sounded like: a nest. It was large, with a base of sticks and wood, topped with furs that were different--much softer and plush to the touch. Truthfully, with some blankets, it could be the most comfortable place to be during the cold winter months.

I’ve also noticed that Kyojuro is quite comfortable himself. His fur is soft, and he radiates warmth like any fire. Sure, he’s a ruthless, psychotic monster, but at least he’s nice to sleep with.

It didn’t take long for us to reach our destination. Once we arrived, he led me straight to the nest, sitting me down inside it. Before I could say anything, I felt his tail wrap tightly around my waist, pulling me against him. He curled up around me, holding me close.

"I’m not going to run," I reassured him.

He scoffed, as if I'd just told a ridiculous joke.

"You really expect me to believe that after the stunt you pulled this morning?" His eyes narrowed at me.

"You don’t understand. It wasn’t what it looked like. I didn’t leave because I wanted to escape. I needed to leave because--"

"Tamayo." He growled her name as if she were the bane of his existence.

"You do not belong to this Tamayo woman. You belong to me." His tail tightened around my waist, starting to hurt.

"It’s not like that. She gives me a place to stay. She’s been extremely good to me."

"I also provide for you." His pointed ear twitched in annoyance.

"I will always provide for my mate. No matter what some human can do for you, I can do more!" He sat up straighter, his voice loud and confident.

I glanced over at the opening of the den. Through the vines, I could see the sky turning orange. It would be late soon.

While I’m completely aware I’m not much assistance to Tamayo as a whole, I can’t just abandon her. She has every right to throw me out and tell me to fend for myself, but she doesn’t. She gives me grace every time. I don’t know her well enough to call her a friend, but I can say she is a good person--a mentor with a passion for monster hunting.

I can’t just disappear.

I have to help her, find something, anything to aid her research. I owe it to her. A hundred times over.

I turn back to look at Kyojuro, his red eyes staring holes into me. Glowing red.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said sharply and to the point.

I could feel my body tense up. This was a cryptid’s influence--the influence of a mate.

Even if I wanted to sneak off now, my body wouldn’t let me, or it would make me sick until I came crawling back. If I wanted to make things right, I had to convince Kyojuro it was a good idea.

“Will you please, please just hear me out at least? Just let me explain.” I sounded pathetic, begging like a damn dog.

I could see his gaze soften slightly as he sat back to get a better look at me.

“Fine, I’ll let my mate explain why she needs to go gallivanting off to this woman so desperately.”

I thought for a moment about how to make him understand. I wasn't sure how well a cryptid could grasp human emotions, let alone human relationships.

To him, anyone who interacts with me seems like a threat, someone who could take me away. Of course, that isn't true, but it must be his animalistic instincts.

"Kyojuro, before I met you, I was living alone, just trying to get by on the streets of that village you saw."

I saw a slight shift in his gaze, a mix of confusion and maybe pity.

"My point in telling you this is because Tamayo was the one who helped me. She saw I was struggling and took me in, gave me a place to stay and food to eat. All she asked in return was my assistance."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, the clicking sounds starting up more intensely as I went on. The sob story wasn’t working. I needed a different approach.

"Without Tamayo, it's very possible I would never have met you, Kyojuro. It’s because of her that we found each other."

I saw a slight change in his demeanor; his tail loosened a bit.

"Tamayo isn’t a bad person, Kyojuro. She has helped me a lot, and I haven’t been able to do a single thing to return those favors."

I looked at him desperately.

"Please, I'll be your mate, I’ll come here every night, whenever I can, but please don’t make me never see her again.”

He looked conflicted, seemingly considering it for a moment, until his tail lifted me off the ground to look me in the eyes.

“Y/N, as my mate, you are to stay here. No exceptions. I marked you as mine, I claimed you as mine. And you agreed to it.” His face was so close to mine.

I couldn’t deny it. It was true. All of this, I agreed to it. I wanted to tell myself I did it out of fear, afraid of what would happen if I said no. But I knew that was a lie.

The hard truth is that I am attracted to him. I genuinely have feelings and a sexual attraction to this cryptid monster, one of the nine most dangerous in the region.

"I know, I know I agreed to be your mate. I still want to be. But can’t there be a way for you to meet me in the middle? After all her kindness and patience with me, I can’t let her think I took advantage of that and abandoned her.”

He hesitated, looking at me as if he needed to process my words.

“Please… mate, please let me make this right.”

His eyes immediately softened at my words. He set me down gently on the nest before hovering over me.

“Y/N L/N,” he growled my name in a way that sent shivers down my spine, his voice echoing and causing my heart to race.

“I will allow you to pay your debts that you feel you owe. I am not cruel.”

I could practically feel my body relax.

“However.”

I looked up at him.

“As I said, you belong to me. You are bound to me.” He growled as he leaned down closer and closer to me. “What I say goes. You will be allowed to see this Tamayo woman during the day and aid her in whatever it is she wishes to prove, but at night, you will be here with me, in our nest. Without exception.”

I took a deep breath. His demands would be difficult, but I had to make it work. This was the best compromise I could hope for with him.

"Yes, okay. I can do that," I agreed quickly.

He stared at me for a moment before slowly rising. He looked out and finally noticed the darkening sky.

"The sun is setting. You may return tonight. Blame your tardiness on 'your old friend' from the market," he scoffed.

I stood up, glancing at my tattered clothing. I wasn't sure how I would explain it this time, but I’d figure something out.

I felt his eyes burning into me, making me uncomfortable and a little hot and bothered.

His large hand grabbed my face firmly, his claws digging slightly into my cheeks.

"That man you were with in the market today. Stay away from him," he spoke lowly.

I knew cryptids were possessive, but I never realized they could get jealous. Oh, if only he knew how little Yushiro liked me.

I nodded to show I understood. He let go and took a step back, looking me over.

"Your visit will be brief. You will return here tonight, or I will drag you here myself." The threat was clear and immediate.

“Okay, I’ll return later tonight, you won’t have to come get me.” I reassure.

His intense gaze never faltered. Now that I know kyojuro has a human form he can change to at will, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow me around everywhere.

He gives me the approval to leave.

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

The walk back was just as annoying as I remembered, hiking out of the woods only to return the same night.

This sucked. I know I’m not in a position to complain, but I feel like he forgets I’m human. My body is sore and tired; all I want is sleep.

Once the house was in sight, I made my way in, passing a few of the other people Tamayo has recruited, until I spotted Yushiro.

He looked up and saw me. As soon as he looked me up and down, he gave me his usual look of judgment.

“What the hell happened to your clothes? And where have you been?” His tone was skeptical but with a hint of concern.

“I’m sorry, I was with my friend and…” I hesitated, unsure how to explain my torn clothes.

“…we decided to go for a walk in the woods while we talked. I accidentally tripped.” I gave a sheepish smile.

What a dumb lie.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at my clothes again.

“I’d say it’s impossible to mess up your clothes that badly from a trip, but knowing you, you’d find a way.” He scoffed.

Before he could walk away, I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Wait, where is Tamayo? Is she in?”

Yushiro nodded.

“She’s in her study, probably settling in for the night. If you’re going to bother her, do it quickly.” He shrugged my hand off his shoulder.

Before I could say anything else, he was already halfway down the hall.

This shouldn’t take long. I just need to understand Tamayo’s plan and coordinate it with Kyojuro’s demands.

I stood in front of her study door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” came her faint voice from behind the door.

When I entered, she was standing behind her desk, putting away some books. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening when she saw me.

“Ah, Y/N. How was the market with Yushiro? He said you ran into an old friend,” she said casually.

“It was fine. I’m sorry for taking so long. Did Yushiro give you the supplies I got?”

She nodded as she placed the last book on the shelf and turned to face me.

“Yes, I got everything. I was pleased to hear you have someone to talk to outside of the group,” she said with a smile.

I started to feel awkward. Any time Kyojuro was mentioned, guilt washed over me. Tamayo had been searching for these creatures her whole life, and here I was, sharing a nest with one of them, keeping it a secret from her.

“Yes, it was very nice to see him again. It had been quite some time,” I said, playing along with the story I made up.

Tamayo's gaze swept over me. “Looks like you had a nice time indeed.” Her teasing was unexpected.

Tamayo rarely discussed anything with me other than monster hunting, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I needed to focus on why I was here.

“Tamayo, I actually needed to talk to you about your next steps for the group. Is there anything you need me to do?”

She looked a bit surprised; it wasn’t often I showed much interest in her projects.

She grabbed a small map off her desk and unrolled it, pointing to the northeast.

“We didn’t have much luck in the northern area, so I think it’ll be better if we start going east. I intend to cover the whole region.”

A worry gnawed at my chest. Kyojuro's demands about what I can and cannot do echoed in my mind. He had expressed his anger with me for going north--the same night he marked me and claimed me as his mate.

“So, how can I help with that?”

“You’ll travel with Yushiro and me. It’ll just be us.”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Why me? Yushiro hates me every other day, and I contribute nothing more than eating their food.

“Why do you want me to go? Wouldn’t it be better to send some of the more experienced hunters with you?”

She gave me a slight nod.

“Yes, usually that would be the case. However, those hunters are only ‘experienced’ because they’ve had the chance to gain that experience. You, Y/N, need to get some under your belt as well.”

Well, I guess that makes sense.

“Another reason is I need some of the people who have been here longer to keep an eye on the woods around this place. We’ve noticed some strange noises and activity lately. It’s quite possible there could be something out there, so close, and we wouldn’t even know it.”

I had to keep a straight face, but my heart sank. It had to be Kyojuro; he keeps coming around because I’m here. He’s going to blow his cover and be found out.

I needed to talk to him, to explain that Tamayo and the others were catching on to his presence. I had to warn him to stay away.

Tamayo tilted her head, noticing I was lost in thought.

“Y/N?” She called my name softly.

I met her eyes for a moment before speaking. “When will we start our journey? Is it soon?”

She shrugged. “I’m still working on the details. Give me a day or so to get everything lined out, and I can give you a proper timeline.”

I felt a little relief. At least I had two days to process this with Kyojuro. Maybe with more time, he wouldn’t be as aggressive or angry. At least, that’s what I hoped.

----------

The walk back to the den wasn’t as bad as I expected. It was hard to see in the dark, but I was starting to memorize the path.

Sneaking out of my room was going to be annoying. They weren’t exactly keeping tabs on me, but people would get suspicious if they saw me walking into the woods every night and not returning until morning.

Everything about this felt complicated, but I was sure I’d get used to it. I still didn’t know how to convince Kyojuro to let me go east with Tamayo and Yushiro--probably two of his most disliked humans at the moment.

Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure another Hashira lives in that area, mainly near water. Tomioka...something like that. I remember reading about him in the books I found while trying to learn more about Kyojuro.

The only thing I remember about Tomioka is that he looks like some kind of kraken/human hybrid. Probably like a creepier, more unsettling mermaid. But the book never mentioned he was aggressive or dangerous like Shinazugawa.

Maybe Kyojuro wouldn’t be so opposed to it this time.

I could see the den, a faint light peeking through the vines that covered the entrance. When I walked in, I saw Kyojuro sitting by the fire he had started, which lit up most of the den.

He looked at me, his ears perking up, and smiled with his sharp teeth.

“Ah! So you can follow orders correctly!” he laughed enthusiastically.

I was caught off guard by his demeanor. Before everything that had happened recently, Kyojuro and I had talked casually in the woods. I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, but he was always playful and entertaining.

Given the recent circumstances, I hadn't seen this side of him in a while. He must be relaxing a little bit.

Do I really want to ruin his mood by asking to travel?

He got up from his spot by the fire and walked over to me, his tail wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. He lifted me up in his arms, nuzzling his head against my cheek.

“My mate has returned to me, just as she promised. Now we can spend the night together!” His voice echoed in the den, amplifying his excitement, and his clicking was loud.

Damn, he’s being cute.

He seems so happy; I can't talk to him about leaving right now. I miss this side of him. Sure, his looks are strangely attractive, but what really drew me to Kyojuro was his personality--fun, happy, and confident. Traits I wish I had more of.

I petted the top of his head, scratching behind his ears a little. He started making a growling purr, so I guess he liked it.

“What did you do while I was gone?” I asked, continuing to pet him.

His bright red eyes widened, and he smiled. “I hunted for you. You’re human and very small, so I made sure to bring you plenty!”

I couldn’t help but smile. He’s so happy to do things for me. Even when Kyojuro was angry with me, he’s been attentive since he claimed me. He makes sure I’m fed, that I’m not cold, that I’m safe. He doesn’t let his anger get in the way of being a provider.

Honestly, I know a lot of human men who could use a lesson in that as well...

“Thank you, Kyojuro, I’ll be sure to enjoy it.”

He set me down near the fire where some raw meat and a wooden skewer were laid out.

As I started to cook the meat, his tail draped around me, and his glowing red eyes stared into mine as he smiled. It was a little creepy, but I knew he was just happy.

The meat was good; I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now. Dealing with monsters and monster hunters can make you forget you’re a human who gets tired and hungry.

I could feel myself slightly dozing off as I ate. Curling up in the nest with my cryptid mate didn’t sound so bad right now.

Once I finished, I looked up at Kyojuro, who was still staring at me.

“I’m getting a little tired. Do you think we could go to bed now?”

His eyes flashed, and his expression changed. This smile was different--mischievous and full of lust.

“My mate wishes to sleep already? The night is still young for us, my dear...” He stood over me like a giant, his clawed hand gently grabbing my arm and pulling me up. He leaned down close to my face.

“You forget, I haven’t eaten yet. I’ve been waiting for my meal to return to me since she left.” His growl was low and seductive.

My mind was a mix of fear and arousal at his words. I couldn’t tell if he meant literally or figuratively, but I guess I was ready for either.

“What do you mean?” I struggled to find the right words.

His hand moved from my arm to my face, holding it softly.

“It means I’m going to devour you.”

Blood rushed to my face. I didn’t care which way he meant it, I was ready.

He picked me up again and carried me to our nest.

He set me down gently and leaned back to get a good look at me. His eyes darkened, his smile turning stern and commanding. His claws tugged at my already torn-up shirt.

“Take these off,” he growled lowly.

My heart pounded as I lifted my hands to unbutton my shirt. My mind was racing. I’d already let him fuck his aggression into me this morning after the run in at the market. But I could definitely go again.

I started to remove the rest of my clothes, slowly letting the fabric pool at my feet.

I could feel his intense stare his eyes wide with need, his fur standing on end.

Once I was completely bare I looked back up at him. His gaze was predatory, almost scary.

In an instant I found myself being pinned to the floor of the nest and he towered over top of me. One of his large clawed hands held both my wrists above my head while his tail pulled my legs apart.

His eyes taking me in hungrily. I could feel my body heating up.

"You are perfect," he purred.

Before I could react, his long wet tongue ran over my face and down my neck. I could feel his sharp teeth graze my skin as he moved further down my body, licking and biting as he went.

I arched into his touch, wanting more.

Suddenly his mouth closed over one of my nipples, his tongue swirling around it. The sensation made me moan loudly.

Kyojuro smirked against my chest, clearly pleased with my reactions.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His clicking starting up again.

"Mhm," I whimpered, unable to form a proper response.

"Good." He kissed his way back up to my face, capturing my lips in a deep kiss. I couldn't help but moan again as his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting every inch of me.

I felt him release my hands, his clawed hands traveling down my body.

My body tensed up as he touched me.

"You're mine. All of you."

Kyojuro's tounge pressed against my folds, causing me to gasp.

"Kyojuro!"

I felt a sharp sting as his claws cut into the soft flesh of my thighs.

His eyes darkened, and his grin grew wider.

"My mate is so wet for me already..."

I blushed, embarrassed by his words.

"Do not be ashamed, love. I will take care of you." His purrs in my ear.

I gasped as his tongue finally found my clit, lapping over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

I gripped the fur on his shoulders, unable to keep my hands off of him.

I could hear him growling as his tongue moved faster and harder against me. My hips bucked against him, desperately trying to gain more friction. My orgasm was building quickly, and it wasn't long before I was moaning loudly, my legs shaking uncontrollably.

"Oh, Kyojuro, fuck! Please don't stop!"

my orgasm came so quick, I couldn’t believe it.

I lay there panting trying to catch my breath. It was so fast, I was almost disappointed.

This clicking noise suddenly grew louder his hand releasing my wrists and moving to my waist forcing me to sit up.

“We aren’t done yet, surely my mate can keep going.” That monstrous smile made my heart flutter again. I wasn’t done and neither was he.

As he sat back I found myself crawling between his legs, his cock was huge, hooked, the large knot bulging at the base.

I was practically drooling for it.

His eyes looked down at me amused.

“Does my mate see something she wants?” His voice echoed lowly.

I had never wanted a cock in my mouth so bad.

I couldn’t resist trying to wrap my hand around it, he growled lowly at my touch.

I knew I couldn’t fit much in my mouth but I was willing to try.

I needed it more than anything right now.

I ran my tongue from the base to the lip, looking into his eyes.

He looked so aroused, so primal.

I started to tease his tip with my tongue, flicking it back and forth before wrapping my lips around it.

It wasn’t much but it was enough to get him to groan loudly.

I started moving my head back and forth, sucking on his tip.

heard him growl loudly again as he gripped my hair in his hand, holding it still.

“More.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I opened my mouth as wide as I could, taking as much of his tip in my mouth as I could and started moving my head back and forth.

My gags and moans sounded embarrassing, but the seemed to only edge Kyojuro on.

I could feel myself getting wet again at his pleasure.

I was starting to feel dizzy as I worked my mouth on him. I was drooling all over his cock, spit dripping from my chin.

“My little human, so eager to please me. Get on your hands and knees.”

His voice sent chills down my spine.

I complied immediately.

He positioned himself behind me, his tip pressing against my soaking wet pussy.

“You are so wet, my mate. Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

His hand wrapped around my throat and pulled me back against his chest.

I could barely get the words out.

“Fuck me, please. Fuck me hard, Kyojuro.” I whined.

He chuckled lowly at my begging.

“That’s good, I want you to beg more for me.”

He slid himself in and out of me, teasing me with just the tip.

“Please fuck me, please.” I was desperate.

He pulled out and slammed his cock in me, burying himself to the knot.

I gasped out in pleasure

His tail wrapped around my ankle, holding my legs apart. He started to move in and out of me at a fast pace.

He was going to make me cum again soon and I was sure he would follow suit.

He leaned in close to my ear and started to growl and click as he fucked me.

“Oh fuck, kyojuro...” I moaned, his tail tightening around my ankle.

I was starting to lose control again, my vision blurring as the orgasm hit me again.

His tail quickly moved from my ankle to around my waist, forcing me to stop moving.

Kyojuro’s cock pulsed in me as he released himself, his knot swelling up and locking in place.

I was completely full of his seed, unable to move.

I collapsed forward, my arms and legs giving out.

Kyojuro laid down behind me, pulling me close against him. I was already falling asleep, his warmth and his scent keeping me safe and content.

I had never felt so exhausted and protected in my life.

But I knew tomorrow would be different. I needed to convince Kyojuro to let me go on this hunt with Tamayo.

He wouldn’t be happy and he would probably be angry.

But I couldn’t let him win this time. I needed to be brave enough to hold my own.

I knew Kyojuro didn’t want me to leave, but he needed to understand why I was doing it.

I needed to protect him as much as he protected me.

I knew he would see my point of view.

He just needed to trust me a little bit.

And maybe he would see that I wasn’t going to run from him.

But guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

Next>>

—————

Tags: @fandomenbylover @emmenic726

[writinginpinkpink]

The Price of Life. [0.3]

homelander x fem!reader

summary: Homelander saved you and gave you life, but with one rule: be utterly loyal to him. Despite this, you went beyond mere obedience and provided him with what he needed most: love.

warnings: homelander, violence, swearing, smut (eventually), a bit of stockholm syndrome?

taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife

masterlist | requests opened! | previous

When morning came, you woke up to find Homelander already up, his hair impeccably styled as he rehearsed his lines in front of the mirror. He glanced at you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Good morning, YN. Today is a big day for us,” he said, his voice unnervingly peaceful. “Get dressed. We have a press conference in an hour.”

You nodded, getting up and putting on the uniform he had given you. The new suit felt unfamiliar against your skin, a constant reminder of your new commitment, but you liked how it looked on you.

“Save your concern for someone who needs it,” you retorted, brushing past her. “I’ve made my choice.”

The press conference was held in the main hall of Vought Tower. As you and Homelander stood together, facing the flashing cameras and the eager reporters, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Homelander began, his voice strong and authoritative. “I have an important announcement to make. YN and I are now in a relationship. Together, we’ll make sure to combat the lies the media spreads and show you the truth for a brighter future for America.”

You forced a smile, nodding along with his words. The room erupted in applause, and the questions started flying. You answered them as best as you could, sticking to the narrative Homelander had laid out. The applause and the attention felt intoxicating, filling you with a sense of significance you had never experienced before.

After the press conference, you found yourself alone with Homelander in a small conference room. He turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“You did well out there,” he said, his tone almost approving. “But remember, they love me, not you. If anything happens, I can turn them against you in a heartbeat.”

You nodded, feeling a strange thrill at his threat. It wasn’t a problem for you; it was just part of who he was, and you liked it. “I understand.”

“Good,” he replied. “Now, I have something else for you. A mission. It’s a test of your loyalty.”

Your heart raced at his words. “What kind of mission?”

He handed you a folder with detailed information. “There’s a supe disrupting the city. I want you to take care of it. Show me that you’re devoted to me.”

You opened the folder and scanned the contents, your eyes narrowing as you took in the details. The name and face of the target were familiar, and you realized why Homelander had chosen her, you couldn't deny him: this was your chance to prove yourself to Homelander, to solidify your place by his side.

“I’ll take care of it,” you said confidently.

As you left the room to prepare for the mission, you ran into Annie.

“YN, please. Think about what you’re doing,” she pleaded. “This isn’t you. Homelander is dangerous. You don’t have to do this.”

Your anger flared at her words. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You’re jealous, Annie. You can’t stand that someone else might be in the spotlight for once.”

“Jealous? That’s not it at all,” Annie insisted, her eyes wide with shock. “I’m worried about you. Homelander isn’t who you think he is.”

“This again?” you snapped, feeling the resentment bubble up. “We’ve already talked about this. You’ve always been jealous of me. Ever since I joined The Seven, you’ve treated me like I’m just your sidekick. Well, guess what? I’m done being in your shadow. Homelander sees my potential, and he’s given me a chance to prove myself.”

“YN, you’re making a mistake,” Annie said, her voice softer now, pleading. “This isn’t about jealousy. It’s about keeping you safe.”

-

The mission Homelander gave you was straightforward: eliminate a minor supe. As you approached the familiar location, a strange feeling hit your stomach. It was just an old warehouse; there was no reason for you to feel this way. Everything would have been so much easier if you didn’t have so many memories. However, none of it mattered. You knew Homelander, and you knew this was his way to test you, to see how far you would go for him. And you would go damn far.

You entered the warehouse, your senses heightened, and quickly located your target. Your heart skipped a beat. The supe was a young woman with the ability to ignite fire. She turned to face you, her eyes widening in recognition. Affection filled her eyes, but you didn’t allow yours to show the same feeling.

“YN? What are you doing here? Miss the team?” she asked, smiling. Her hair was different, and her face a little older, but the smile was the same. Her expression faltered as she noticed the darkness in your gaze—a look she couldn’t quite recognize. It was you, but something was different, something unsettling.

“I’m here to take care of a problem,” you replied coldly, stepping closer. You knew that to get the job done, you would have to leave it all behind—all the love for your past had to be destroyed so there would be enough space for your savior.

She backed away, her confusion evident. “What are you talking about? Is this about that shirt—”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you interrupted.

Before she could react, you lunged at her, using your improved strength to pin her to the ground. She struggled, but you were stronger, you were better. You could almost hear Homelander's voice in your head, telling you how good you were being for him. You felt a twisted sense of fulfillment as you overpowered her, your hands closing around her throat.

As she gasped for air, her flames flickering out, you leaned in closer, your voice a cold whisper. “I wish I could say I'm sorry that things ended like this.” You saw Ember's tear running down her cheek, but somehow it meant nothing to you. She meant nothing to you now.

With a final, cruel twist, you snapped her neck, feeling a wave of energy and pleasure. You stood up, looking down at her lifeless body, and felt no remorse. You weren't even ashamed about it.

You wiped away a tear you didn't realize was falling. Maybe that was your last bit of humanity. But you knew that everything would be worth it.

-

Returning to Vought Tower, you made your way to Homelander’s office, feeling a mix of pain and pride. Eager to see him as soon as possible, you quickened your pace, anxious for his praise. When you entered, he looked you up and down with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve been in quite a fight,” he said, his tone a blend of amusement and condescension. “Guess the supe wasn’t much of a challenge after all.”

“I handled it,” you replied, a rush of pride in your voice. “For you.”

Homelander’s expression remained assertive as he stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek with a calculated touch. “I know. You did such a good job, YN.” Your heart raced, the sound of it loud in your ears. You felt as if you would do it a thousand times again just to hear him say it once more.

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, his approval filling you with a sense of accomplishment. “Thank you.”

He guided you to his desk, where he began tending to your wounds. His touch was far from gentle, but you made sure not to flinch, determined to show that you could endure his roughness. As he worked, his eyes remained fixed on you, a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness in his gaze.

“You know, you made the right choice,” he said, his voice low and assured. “Now nothing is standing between us.”

You felt a deep sense of commitment at his words, and you looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his gaze. “I’d do anything for my family,” you declared, your voice steady.

Homelander’s eyes shifted, an unreadable expression flickering across his face. Without warning, he gripped your chin firmly, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce urgency. At first, you struggled to keep up with the intensity, but soon you found yourself matching his desperation, surrendering to his need.

He used you as he pleased, and you embraced it, feeling a mix of exhilaration and belonging. The lines between pain and pleasure blurred as you gave yourself over completely.

[peakyswritings]

Lullaby || Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: It’s been almost a year since (Y/n) has started to work as Charlie’s nanny. For the first time, she finds herself in the position of breaking one of her boss’ rules, but his reaction might not be what she was expecting.

Warnings: mentions of death, age-gap (it’s not specified, I imagine (Y/n) to be in her 20s).

A/N: this is a mix of two requests by anonymous. I changed them a little bit to make them fit another thing I was already planning to write. I hope you like it🤍 Also, I couldn’t restrain myself from using Once Upon a December from Anastasia as the lullaby (Y/n) sings.

Word count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST

Dividers credit

“C’mon, Charlie.” (Y/n) whispered with a soft voice, gently rocking the three-year-old. “It’s late, you need to sleep.”

Despite all her efforts, the child seemed to have no intention of going back to sleep. His cries resounded in the silence of the night, desperate, probably caused by a nightmare. It wasn’t the first time he woke up in the middle of the night, and surely it wouldn’t be the last. It was quite a common occurrence, but there was nothing surprising about that. At such a young age, Charlie Shelby had already been through so much pain.

(Y/n) had been Charlie’s nanny for almost a year now. She had moved to Arrow House shortly after the late Mrs Shelby, Charlie’s mother, had died under tragic circumstances. As for her boss, Thomas Shelby, she rarely saw him. He didn’t spend much time at home, and when he did, he locked himself in his study until it was time to go out again. Everyone could see that the man was still grieving, that the guilt of his wife’s death was eating at him day by day. And Grace Shelby was everywhere in that house. In the portraits, in the photographs, in the very air the people who lived there breathed. It was as if her ghost was still lingering inside those walls, restless.

Truth was, some part of (Y/n) was glad she didn’t have to see Mr Shelby too often. His cold eyes gave her chills, and she always felt small under his expectant stare. It felt like he could read right through people. But she couldn’t complain, because despite his exterior harshness and his coolness, he was kind to her. She figured the reason why was that Charlie had become fond of her right away, just like she had become fond of him.

On the other side, Thomas Shelby piqued her curiosity. He was a peculiar man, she had never met someone who even remotely resembled him. She knew who he was, what his family did, and before meeting him she was expecting to find herself in front of someone entirely different. When after putting an ad in the papers she received his secretary’s call, she had considered refusing. But the pay was good, and she needed to get out of her house, to be independent, and the general terms of her contract were to good to be ignored. So she mustered up the courage and attended the interview, and to this day, she could say she made the right decision. Charlie was lovely, the staff was friendly, and she felt relatively safe in a house surrounded by men who protected it night and day.

(Y/n) sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was three in the morning. She had been trying to get Charlie to sleep for over an hour, but nothing seemed to work. She had tried everything: she had cradled him, given him water, she had even taken him to take a breath of fresh air in the garden for a while. It was all useless. There was just one thing she hadn’t tried, she hadn’t dared try, for if her boss found out he would probably fire her for breaking his rules. It was the first thing people would do to help a child fall asleep, and yet it was not allowed at Arrow House. Because Mr Shelby didn’t allow singing. But she was running out of options, and her boss was still out.

Just one song. One lullaby wouldn’t hurt anyone.

She hesitated, sending a look at the door of Charlie’s bedroom, then she quietly started to chant the lullaby her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a child.

“Dancing bears

Painted wings

Things I almost remember

And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

Tommy closed the front door behind him, exhaling a deep breath. Another long day was over. However, not even the comfort of being home was enough to lift the weight pressing on his shoulders. Not anymore. It was always there, pushing down on him, waiting for him to bend, or to break. But he had to keep on marching, relentlessly, pretending that the burden wasn’t there.

He took off his coat and hanged it, trying to be as silent as possible in order not to wake the whole house up at that hour. As he walked further into the dark parlour, Charlie’s loud cries came to his ears. He was having troubles sleeping, again.

He made his way towards the stairway, squinting his eyes in the semi-darkness to see better, when something caught his attention. It was a voice, a soft, soothing voice singing a song upstairs.

Someone holds me safe and warm

Horses prance through a silver storm

Figures dancing gracefully across my memory

Tommy began walking up the stairs, step after step, drawn by the beautiful sound. He knew who that voice belonged to. (Y/n) was disobeying his orders, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be angry, far too fascinated. Soon Charlie’s cries faded, and the only thing that could be heard was her enchanting voice.

Far away

Long ago

Glowing dim as an ember

That hauntingly beautiful lullaby brought him back to over a year ago, when his late wife’s voice used to reverberate through the walls. Ever since her death, the silence had been haunting him, only broken by the echo she left behind.

Things my heart

Used to know

Things it yearns to remember

Tears welled up in Tommy’s eyes, but he was quick to push them back. He stopped at the entrance of is Charlie’s bedroom, watching as (Y/n) tenderly held the child in her arms, unaware of his presence. His son had finally fallen asleep, and the peaceful expression on his face reflected how safe he was feeling.

“And a song someone sings

Once upon a December”

She finished her song, and there was silence again. She placed Charlie back on the soft mattress and tucked him in, careful not to wake him up again. When she turned to leave the room, causing their eyes to meet, fear dawned on her young features. It was clear she wasn’t expecting to find him there. For a few seconds, neither of them did nor said anything. Then, as if remembering where she was, (Y/n) slowly exited the room, closing the door behind her. Her arm accidentally brushed against him in the process, the contact almost burning through his shirt. As they stood face to face in the hallway, she avoided his gaze, probably waiting for him to scold her, or fire her, or something worse. And a question popped into Tommy’s mind. Was she that scared of him?

(Y/n)’s heart was racing inside her chest as her boss’s unreadable gaze rested on her. She had never found herself in the position to fear him, nor had she ever had a reason to, but she had never broke any rule before, or crossed any line. And she had no idea how he would react to disobedience. The last thing she wanted was to get on the gangster’s bad side.

“It was a nice song.” His low voice pulled her out of her thoughts, making her gulp. Suddenly, she realised how close they were.

“Mr Shelby, I…” she stuttered, taking a step back. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, shifting her eyes on the ground, finding it way more comfortable to face him without having to look at his impassive expression. “It’s just… nothing was working, and…” she started to ramble, but the words got stuck in her throat. “It won’t happen again.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just looked at her, studying her, and his calmness made her even more nervous, for it made him unpredictable. Then something changed in his eyes. His features softened, and she could swear his lips curved into a small smile. “Go to sleep, (Y/n).”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it right away. He wasn’t angry? He wasn’t going to fire her? Was it an emotion, the one that had just broken through his ever-unfazed face? She blinked, trying to recollect herself, deciding that it would be better to listen to him before he changed his mind.

“Goodnight, Mr Shelby.” She politely said, before walking past him to go to her room.

“(Y/n).” He called her, making her stop in her tracks. She turned around, her nervousness coming back again as she waited for him to speak.

“You’re allowed to sing, if you want.”

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (2)

ー☆ Chapter 2: RunRunRun

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing really ー☆ Word count: 6.6k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hihi, second chapter is out!! I hope you all enjoy it and leave feedback, I really really appreciate that!! Taglist is still open for those interested. Do not forget to check out the playlist and listen to the song before or while reading (RunRunRun)!! Thank you. Now, enjoy!

Taglist: @orshii @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

『I always thought it would be easy (easy)

To get you out my mind (mind)』

            Certainly my sleep could’ve been more peaceful, but after the shit I pulled—drew Mingi’s eyes, for fuck’s sake—I knew I was in for a long night of overthinking and overanalyzing everything. Just for a second I allowed myself to place aside all judgement and foulness I felt towards the smug prick and, yes, admitted, that perhaps he wasn’t too bad to look at. Not a little bit, not even at all. However, this thought unsettled me and quickly made me remember how my blood boiled and nerves rose caused by his stuck-up attitude and irritating smirk. He was an asshole full of himself, and there was no way in hell I would allow his mild handsomeness overshadow his good for nothing personality. Guys like him were only by your side for a short while, while the relationship would feel new and exciting, and after that they dip like you have never even existed on the surface of Earth. That thought alone made me groan last night and punch a pillow before I finally willed my mind to calm down and erase the knowledge of his existence—or of the very obvious drawing of his eyes in my sketchbook, which I started considering my journal at some point.

If the lack of sleep wasn’t enough to put me in a sour mood, then the chilly air of the morning certainly made me grit my teeth as I stormed back inside the house to grab my beige and maroon plaid flannel shirt before running off to catch the bus to university. Currently, Seulgi and I were sat in the cafeteria enjoying our lunches—well, she was, my appetite never found me today—as I chewed the last bits of my quite simple sandwich I have packed in a haste this morning, Seulgi’s mouth, despite being full, was constantly moving and spouting information after information. I was only half-heartedly listening to her at this point—I swear to God, Wooyoung has been the center of our conversation for the past half an hour—as I held my pencil between my fingers and mindlessly doodled in my sketchbook. I wasn’t drawing anything particular, just random shapes which my brain felt necessary to draw as Seulgi suddenly hiccupped, face turning red. I cast her a glance as she quickly opened her bottle of water and chugged down at least half of its contents.

“Are you good?” I asked amused as she fanned her face.

“I think I almost just died.” Her answer made me snort as I grabbed the apple off my tray and bit into it, almost instantly regretting it as I was never a fan of apples.

“No wonder, you keep talking with your mouth full.” I muttered and Seulgi rolled her eyes as she went back to eating her lunch, smiling to herself like an idiot. I rolled my eyes but basked in the silence, finally able to have a little bit of peace of mind. I loved Seulgi and her random rambles, but not when they were about Wooyoung. And lately he seemed to be the only thing she talked about.

“Did you get to rest last night?” She asked as she gulped down her soup, eyebrows furrowed as she took in my appearance, seemingly finally aware that I looked tired. I shook my head with a sigh and turned the page of my sketchbook as I have filled the other one with shapes. Seulgi glanced down at the clean page and grimaced, leaning in closer towards me, “Just how stressed are you right now? That’ll be your third page in the past fifteen minutes.”

“I’m not really stressed,” I corrected her, taking another bite of the apple and regretting it again, “I’m just bored and probably restless.”

“Why?” Seulgi inquired and I shrugged, pressing the pencil against the white sheet of paper and carefully starting to draw sharp and precise lines.

“Don’t know,” I muttered, eyebrows furrowing when suddenly the cafeteria was filled with noise as if a whole crowd entered it, “Mom says it’s the full moon.”

“That was like…almost two weeks ago.” Seulgi gave me a deadpanned look and I chuckled, shrugging again. I most certainly wasn’t going to tell her that I haven’t slept well last night because I drew Mingi’s eyes and then freaked out over it, and was still pretty much freaking out about it, because I didn’t know what this meant and why it happened. And I really didn’t want to find out as I mindlessly pressed a small but firm dot underneath the lines I drew on the left side of the paper.

“I don’t know then, Seulgi, you know I have periods when I can’t sleep.” Seulgi hummed at my response and then a coy smile made its way onto her lips and I raised my eyebrows, pressing her to go on and tell me what was on her mind.

“What did you think of Noir Zenith?” I didn’t want to talk about this.

“They were fine.” I answered boredly, drawing a small semi-circle underneath the sharp lines, “Nothing too impressive. I’m now convinced you only like them because of Wooyoung.”

“Stop!” Seulgi shushed me with a blush and pointed her fork at me threateningly, “I actually enjoy their music, alright?! I liked the band before I started liking Wooyoung, so stop being mean.”

“Whatever,” I stuck my tongue out at her as I added a bit of shading to the drawing, “I expected their music to be worse, that I’ll admit, however, I only vibed with Seonghwa and Wooyoung—”

“Yeah, you made that very clear, Y/N.” Seulgi cut me off with a sharp tone and it brought a sheepish smile onto my lips as I was about to take another bite of my apple just as I narrowed my eyes at the drawing, staring at it for a second longer. And then it clicked. Fuck. I quickly shut my sketchbook closed as I threw my pencil on the table, groaning loudly. I couldn’t believe it. Why was I doing this? Why was I drawing Mingi’s eyes again?

『I think I found a new addiction

It feels so right』

“What?” Seulgi asked confused as she gazed at my closed sketchbook.

“Nothing.” I muttered lowly, banging my head against the table once before taking another bite of my apple, trying to ignore the way my heart started to race. There must be something about his eyes if my brain decided to burn it into its memory and recall it at any given time my pencil touched a piece of paper as I let loose to draw mindlessly.

“You’ve been acting weird all day long, Y/N.” Seulgi raised an eyebrow and I sighed, slouching down in my seat as suddenly there was a roar of cheers. I wasn’t interested at all to know what was happening behind me; therefore I found no desire in myself to turn around and look. It was probably the football team or some noisy first year’s having a little bit too much fun in the cafeteria while they totally disregard that, perhaps, some people would like to hear their own thoughts while given a longer break from their studies. My lips pulled into a sneer and I almost turned around to find the culprits I could glower at, but Seulgi found her voice again now that she was done with her lunch, “Wooyoung complimented my outfit twice last night, Y/N, twice! I was seriously freaking out!”

“Oh, wow,” I muttered unimpressed, not having it in me to tell her that she’s told me that information three times now, “and yet you kept stressing about it.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Seulgi pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “I was so nervous. It was the first time he invited me to their performance—”

“Haven’t you seen them countless of times before last night?” I asked with narrowed eyes and Seulgi rolled her eyes with a tsk.

“But this was different, Y/N, you’re so impossible I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this—”

“Yeah, me neither.” I gaped at her fakely, making Seulgi roll her eyes, “This is the third time I’m hearing everything, Seulgi.”

“Well, sorry for being excited about my crush finally showing interest in me.” Seulgi’s voice hardened as she snapped and I pouted, knowing that I have upset her. She threw me a glare as she grabbed her phone, acting uninterested as I reached over the table and softly gripped her wrist. I knew she couldn’t resist when I acted cute.

“Sorry, you know I’m cranky when I don’t sleep, don’t get mad.” I coerced her with a sweet voice and she just spared me a glance before going back to her phone. I sighed dramatically and retreated my hand, falling back into my chair and groaning as I closed my eyes briefly. My muscles were sore from sitting almost all day long, and my eyes hurt from too much light and staring at my sketchbook even when it wasn’t necessary. I opened my eyes and allowed them to roam over the cafeteria as I decided to quickly finish the little apple I have left over and took in the students around us. All groups were enjoying their free time quietly, speaking amongst themselves in a moderate tone, not loud enough to disturb anyone, yet there was one fucking table which just wouldn’t shut up, and fed up with it, I whirled around in my chair and searched for them, nose flaring in irritation. However, when my eyes landed on the culprits, my heart fell into my ass and my jaw clenched as I allowed the vicious glare to overtake my features as I sent daggers towards them. There he sat. At the table closest to the entrance, clad in a much more casual outfit compared to last night with sunglasses obscuring his view—who the fuck wears sunglasses inside—as he was surrounded by at least five girls. Mingi was leaning back in his chair, body falling against it awkwardly as his limbs were too long for it, legs spread out wide as he currently had his hands behind his head, smirking up at the blonde girl from the pub. Huh, so she goes to our university, should’ve expected that.

“Disgusting.” I sneered quietly, enticed by the view as my body wallowed in irritation, hatred and disgust, wishing for nothing more than to slam my sketchbook against Mingi’s head and scream the most creative profanities in his face. He was just asking for it with his smug face and shit eating grin, acting like he was a God, above everyone else, making girls swoon for his ass when he wasn’t even all that great.

“What’s—oh.” Seulgi cut herself off once her eyes followed my gaze and she chuckled. I could see her raise an eyebrow from the corner of my eyes as she watched me before looking back at Mingi, leaning back in her chair as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, “You never explained why you hate him so much.”

“Ugh, just look at him!” That was all Seulgi had to say to set me off, “He’s self-centered and conceited! He’s a jerk and he treats everyone else like they are less than him, and oh, my God, don’t even get me started about his stupid smirk which screams, ‘oh, look! I’m better than you ever will be, and by the way, you’re dumb as fuck!’, God, I hate the guy.”

Seulgi’s eyebrows went up to her hairline that’s how high they were raised as I turned around to look at her, having seen enough of Mingi’s stupid side profile as he smirked and laughed at every stupid thing those girls were probably saying to him, “Okay, Miss I hate his pants so much I can’t stop staring at him; that was intense, what the fuck. Poor Mingi, he didn’t even do anything to you and here you are—dragging his ass like he killed your cat or something, Y/N.”

“That would be the last straw—”

“You don’t even have a cat.” Seulgi deadpanned and I sighed exasperated, throwing an irritated smile her way. She was supposed to be on my side, not defending an asshole when she could clearly see how much distaste I had towards him.

“Whatever, I just can’t stand him, alright?” I muttered at last with a huff and Seulgi cocked an eyebrow as her phone pinged, quickly looking down at it. Her mouth instantly stretched into a huge smile and she started bouncing her legs up and down as she slapped the table once very loudly.

“I’m about to die—” She took a deep breath as she squealed quietly, looking at me like she has won the lottery or something, “Wooyoung finally asked me to hang out!”

I smiled at my best friend, happy that things were going well for her, “So, it’s a date then?”

“Not yet.” She smiled as she was texting back, biting her lower lip with a huge smile on her face, “But perhaps soon.”

“Oh, he better ask you out soon,” I muttered just as another roar of squealing disturbed my pace of mind and I have reached my limit for today, that was it, “Or I’ll make him regret being born.”

Seulgi cackled at that as I grabbed my sketchbook and pencil and showed them inside my backpack, “Y/N! That’s too much, don’t you think—Where are you going?”

“Class.” I answered curtly, throwing my flannel shirt around my exposed shoulders as I wore a dark blue off-shoulder long sleeved blouse, paired with black ripped jeans and fishnets underneath.

“We’ve got like ten more minutes until then—”

“Yeah, but if I hear Mingi’s bitches squealing again in the next three seconds I might go ahead and jump out the fucking window.” I deadpanned and Seulgi bit her lower lip as it quivered, threatening to burst out into laughter. It wasn’t funny, and so, I gave her a harmless glare.

“Oh, God, you’re impossible. I can’t believe you’re this cranky.” She said as she finally started laughing.

“This isn’t me being cranky, this is me being irritated by someone’s whole ass existence, anyways, see you!” I called as I took off before Seulgi could say anything else, I knew she’d be following me soon after as we had to walk to the other side of campus to reach the Art’s building.

『Run, baby, run

Run for your life

I'ma tear out your heart

It'll always be mine』

I steeled my expression and pushed my shoulders back as I took off towards the exit, gripping the straps of my backpack tightly. The closer I got to it—which meant I was also getting closer and closer to the table Mingi sat at—the louder those girls voices got. Anyone close enough could hear what they were screaming about—okay, they weren’t screaming, but they were loud—and it made me bite my lower lip as I started tapping my finger against the strap of the backpack, trying to calm my nerves. But Mingi was just sitting there, basking in the attention, grinning and laughing loudly at the very shitty and poor attempts of flirting of the girls, and I really didn’t mean to, but my eyes landed on them and my jaw fell a little bit open when I noticed him signing some stupid looking banner with his face plastered all over it as a black-haired girl was gushing about his looks and deep voice. Where the hell were we? Highschool?! I knew Seulgi was praying right now to all the existing Gods and asking them to let me pass by their table without no disturbances, but that just wasn’t possible as my cheeks flushed in disgust and anger, shooting a sharp glare at the side of Mingi’s face.

“Even your autograph is pretty.” One of the girl’s sighed dreamily, “Can you get any more perfect?”

“Oh, angel, you haven’t even seen everything and you’re already head over heels for me?” Mingi’s voice dropped a few octaves as he blinked up at the girl seductively and I might have as well thrown up in my mouth. I scoffed as I passed behind him, stomping my feet perhaps a little bit too hard as I noticed two girls glance my way.

“Assuming things once again, aren’t you?” My tone was snappy and ice cold as I threw in the comment in passing. I didn’t intend on stopping, but Mingi’s instant reply made me halt.

“Insulting others once again, aren’t you?” I huffed quietly as I bit my lower lip, whirling around. For a second I was taken aback by the unimpressed looks thrown my way by the girls, but I didn’t let it show on my face.

“Only those worthy of getting put in their places, Mingi.” I allowed a cheeky smile slip onto my lips as I stared him down, his eyebrows slightly furrowing. I was surprised to see the dark eyeshadow give more depth at the outer corner of his eyes, the makeup being absent last night. His lips were shiny and you could see the blemishes clearly on his jawline now, his black hair still covering his forehead messily. His grey jumper was oversized and reached mid-thigh over his denim jeans; matching jacket draped around his chair.

“Isn’t it a delight seeing you today as well, Y/N.” Mingi’s tone was mocking as he raised one eyebrow, making me roll my eyes, “Good morning.”

“My morning was good until I heard your puppets and you giggling as if we were in highschool—and it’s noon, Mingi, thought you were smart enough to know lunch time was during noon.”

“What’s your problem?” The blonde snapped and placed a possessive hand on Mingi’s shoulder, which made him cast her a side glance. His lips twitched, and for a second—just a little second—I was able to see the irritation in his eyes at the unwanted touch; it almost made me furrow my eyebrows and throw a questioning glance at Mingi, but I stopped myself. I was certainly misreading his expressions. He loved this, the attention and praises. He was pathetic.

“You and the dude you’re worshiping as if he were a Greek God—” I sighed dramatically, leaning down a little as I made eye contact with Mingi, “Get over yourself.”

It made him chuckle and his nose scrunched up, eyes slightly becoming smaller, but there was no humor in the sound he made, “At least they don’t show up to a performance without knowing the artists and start shitting on them unwarranted, insulting them as if they were superior to them. I say you’ve got something to learn from these girls, Y/N.”

I scoffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest, “Yeah, like what? How to pucker my lips and bat my eyelashes at you to gain your attention? Or throw in cringey flirting and nonconsensual touches?” 

The girls seemed shocked as I threw them all a glare before my gaze landed on the embarrassing banner as I felt Mingi’s heated gaze on my face. He didn’t say anything as his jaw clenched, palms balling up into fists. My eyes fell back on him and our gazes locked, both of us annoyed at this point, as we stared each other down, glares molding into one sharp look as we both refused to look away first. If he thought I was going to back down, he was wrong. His sharp eyes were narrow as a fierce look glazed over them, and for a split second, my eyes fell on the mole underneath his right eye. The drawing I was doodling not even half an hour ago flashed in my mind and I clicked my tongue, suddenly irritated with myself and with Mingi for getting to me so easily.

『Oh, there she go

Losing my head』

“Your silence says everything I needed to know—”

“Don’t get too cocky, smarty pants, silence speaks louder at times and you’re down right embarrassing yourself right now.” My jaw hung open at Mingi’s next words, which were harsh and hissed out as his raspy voice reached my ears, and I sneered at him.

“The only embarrassing one here,” I looked around, “are your puppets, bro. And that fucking shit ass banner.”

Before anyone could say anything I whirled around and stormed off, aware that Seulgi had seen the exchange from afar and was up on her feet, basically scurrying around to gather her things and come to the rescue of Mingi. I just knew she’d have his back and I really didn’t have the energy to sit around and listen to her chastise me in front of him and his baboons. However, I did hear the girls throwing insults after me, Mingi remaining an awful lot silent. It’s not like he could’ve said anything. And I knew he wished to say them to my face, to see the rise he got out of me. I scoffed as I stormed out the building, wanting to let out a frustrated cry in the meantime.

『Please don't waste any time

The sirens are turning red

I found a whole another vice』

            It had gotten dark outside by the time Seulgi and I headed to our curricular art class, fog slowly settling upon our little town as the lampposts illuminated the dark streets, casting an aery yet comforting feeling. I would have to walk home later tonight, but I found the thought relaxing and much needed after the tumultuous day I have had. I couldn’t stand still all day after the encounter with Mingi and his baboons, I couldn’t help but mull over his words over and over again, so much so, that I got called out in one of the classes by the professor. It was embarrassing, but what was even more embarrassing was that one of the girl’s from the table shared three classes with me and kept sending me unwanted glares, pissing me off to no end. If Seulgi wouldn’t have been by my side the whole day, I probably would’ve confronted the girl and cussed her out, ruining my image more in her eyes, if that was even possible.

I was slouched forward, chin resting on my palm and elbow pressing into my thigh as I listened to Seulgi ramble on about how her hangout with Wooyoung went. Her cheeks had a constant flush on them and I grinned as she sucked in a deep breath as she desperately needed it after talking for a few good minutes without stopping.

“And he bought me coffee too even though I never asked,” She bit her lip, trying to contain herself, “He was waiting for me with it in his hands.”

“That’s sweet of him.” I mumbled and looked behind Seulgi, looking out towards the class. Today not many could make, there was a total of five students sitting around the room, working diligently on their sketches. Today’s theme was the human body, a shape or an outline of your choice. It could be a face, a body, or a shadow like figure. Everyone had free reign of choosing the style as long as it was a human shape.

“I know, and his hands were freezing cold,” Seulgi gushed, “So, I gave him my gloves.”

“The Hello Kitty ones?” I asked with a quiet chuckle, turning the pencil over in my hands. I was itching to get started on our assignment, but Seulgi was on her rant once again and I didn’t want to interrupt her again. I have felt bad all day long for upsetting her in the cafeteria; I shouldn’t ruin her mood just because I’m cranky myself.

“Yes!” Seulgi laughed while covering her mouth, “And he looked so cute wearing them, Y/N! We couldn’t stop giggling about it. Pink might be his color.”

“You should’ve dared him to wear something pink at their next performance.” I added with a chuckle, making Seulgi giggle as her cheeks flushed even a darker shade of red. If she kept up with this, her whole face would turn red and she’d look like a tomato.

“I don’t think that would fit the whole rocker concept they have going on.” She muttered with a chuckle and I just shrugged, glancing at my bare paper. I hoped Seulgi would get the hint that I really wanted to start drawing now, but she opened her mouth again.

“He suggested we take a selfie—” Seulgi let out a dreamy sigh, “I don’t think I have enough self-control to not set it as my lock screen.”

“Wouldn’t that be too fast?” I wondered, raising an eyebrow at her. Seulgi nodded, looking slightly defeated.

“It would, I just hope the day will come when I’ll be able to do so.” Her voice got quieter as she looked down at the ground and I didn’t like the sudden drop of confidence. So, I grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, smiling at her encouragingly.

“It will come, stop doubting everything and just go with the flow.” I offered her a big smile, “I know Wooyoung is a generally nice guy, but his kindness feels different with you. It’s sweet.”

“Stop.” Seulgi hushed me, lightly slapping my arm, “You’re feeding into my delusions, I don’t want to get hurt if things really don’t end well.”

“Have some faith in him, yeah?” I slapped my hands together as I straightened in my seat, glancing at Seulgi’s usual spot, “Shouldn’t you start drawing, though? We’ve got an hour only today.”

“Shit!” Seulgi exclaimed loudly as if she just remembered where we were and what we were doing, “I totally forgot what I’m supposed to be doing right now, this is embarrassing.”

“Off you go!” I shooed her off with a laugh and Seulgi scrambled to her place, face red as she quickly tied her long hair in a low ponytail, eyebrows furrowing as she opened her sketchbook. Despite Wooyoung being the only thing on her mind, I knew she wouldn’t be drawing him. Seulgi was spontaneous and very creative. She found it easy to draw whatever was on her mind, whether it was human shaped, abstract, or a landscape. She had a natural talent when it came to human figures and she absolutely loved drawing anyone whom she had in mind. Which was the opposite of me. I couldn’t draw just anyone. It took me lots of hours of studying and tracing ones features with imaginary lines, mapping out their faces and bodies in my mind carefully before putting them on paper. I needed a muse when it came to drawing humans, and before dating Yunho, I never even had one. Before dating Yunho, I could barely draw an eye. During our relationship I learned many things about myself, and one of them was that I needed to hyper fixate on something—or someone—if I wanted to place them on a paper. It wasn’t obsession, I wouldn’t call it that, it simply was something I found beautiful and inspiring enough to put on paper. I usually did it mindlessly too, used to always drawing Yunho when it came to this subject, so I didn’t bat an eyelash as I relaxed my muscles and allowed my mind to rest as my hand took over, bravely creating lines on the blank paper.

『I always thought it would be easy (easy)

To get you out my mind (mind)』

However, to my utter shock, it didn’t take long for me to realize that the man in my drawing, even by its simple outlines, wasn’t Yunho. It looked nothing like him. My quiet thoughts started to get louder and louder the longer I allowed my hand to trace new lines, go over the older ones and bolden them. Shadows casted over the sharp eyes as I traced the outline of their tall nose, eyebrows scrunching when it seemed like the man was glaring back at me. I couldn’t help but glare back, repulsed by the nagging name ringing through my mind the second I placed the mole underneath his right eye. Mingi. Song Mingi. I didn’t want to admit it. This wasn’t him. The man in my drawing wasn’t Song Mingi. It looked nothing like him. It was pure coincidence that his nose and eyes and moles were in the same spot as Mingi’s. My hand faltered and grip tightened around the pencil once I got to draw the lips, wondering whether I wanted to finish this sketch today—or any other day at all. Deep down I knew I didn’t, but I also hated leaving my works unfinished and there was something deep inside me telling me to suck it up, to stop being childish. It was just a damn drawing. It meant nothing. It really didn’t. Especially since I couldn’t stand him. His annoying stupid smirk. My jaw clenched when Mingi’s smug face stared back at me, almost as if my brain took a picture of his face during lunch break and decided to taunt me by recalling every single detail as I worked diligently.

『I think I found a new addiction

It feels so right』

I have long finished the drawing, giving up to finishing it thoroughly as I felt my muscles spasm just at the thought of perfecting Mingi’s face in my own sketchbook. Anyone could see this. Hell, the other students in this class could ask me to show them my drawing for some inspiration and then I’d be fucked. There’s no way others didn’t know about Mingi and his band. Perhaps I had been the only one living under a rock this whole time, oblivious to the music department and their endeavors at our university. And if word got out that I started drawing Song Mingi, I’d rather die than face him ever again. That simply just wasn’t possible. I refused to even entertain such thought. I’d rather draw my ex of five years and have others think I still wasn’t over him—I seriously am—and bash me for living in the past than start talking about my—inexistent—crush on Song Mingi. The shuffling of papers and sudden movement of others in the room brought me out of my glaring contest with the fake Mingi on my paper and I turned around when I heard my name being called out.

“Could you check this out for me?” Jake, a second-year student, asked shyly. I nodded with a smile and got off my stool, stretching, before I headed his way. He wasn’t an art major, but he apparently had always enjoyed drawing, so he joined our little club. His skills were pretty good, but he still had a lot to learn. As I stopped by his desk, I was met with the face of a girl. She was smiling brightly and the drawing was really good, the shading lacked, but that wasn’t such a big problem.

“Oh, this one is really good, Jake. You’ve gotten a lot better lately.” I offered him an encouraging smile as I patted his back, “Maybe adding a bit more shading next time will do the trick better, hm?”

“Thanks!” Jake beamed as he started gathering his stuff, making me nod as Krystal, a classmate of Seulgi and I, beckoned me over.

“I suck at human shapes, you know that.” She said with a sharp chuckle, lips pulled into a grimace as she slowly turned her sketch around. Yeah, Krystal was really bad at human shapes but it wasn’t something to get judged for. Drawing humans was very difficult and I couldn’t blame her for struggling with it, when, I, myself struggled most of times. However, this drawing presented itself as her best so far.

“This is amazing, Krystal, what are you talking about?!” I exclaimed as I gaped at the outline of two girls leaning onto each other, hugging around the shoulders. One of them was taller and the other one had longer and lighter hair. It must’ve been her older sister and her in the drawing. Their faces weren’t detailed or defined, but their shapes were very beautiful and precise.

“Good, God, I never struggled this hard in my life before.” She said with a sigh and got off her stool as Jake and Yunjin waved goodbye and left. Seulgi bounced over, curious to see Krystal’s drawing, and squealed when she saw it.

“You have to show this to Professor Yoon!” Seulgi exclaimed, “He’ll pass you in a second straight to next year’s class.”

Her comment got Krystal laughing and I shook my head as I walked away once I noticed Yiren struggled packing her stuff away. She was the youngest in our club and a little clumsy, always bumping into things and dropping paint on the floor whenever we were painting. She thanked me quietly as she scrambled around to pack her things and then rushed away shyly, quietly thanking me as she ran out the door. I stopped for a second and wondered why she always looked so intimidated by me. Seulgi walked up to her desk and started putting her things away as well as I walked back to my place, grabbing my backpack to put my pencils away. Krystal and Wheein greeted us in unison before walking out the door, leaving Seulgi and I alone. She approached me with a huge grin on her face, dangling her drawing carelessly between her fingers. I chuckled as I watched her, raising an eyebrow, “Who did you draw?”

“Oh, Joohyun!” Seulgi grinned and showed me her drawing eagerly, her cousin’s face staring back at me as she was laughing hard. I could hear Joohyun’s cackling laughter echo in my head and I smiled at the drawing, missing the girl. She was a few years older than us and had moved away to a different country in order to pursue her modelling career. Seulgi and Joohyun were like sisters, and being Seulgi’s best friend, I had the pleasure of meeting the phenomenal woman her cousin was.

“This is so gorgeous, Seulgi.” I said with a pout and a sigh, “You made me miss Joohyun now.”

“She’s visiting in two months!” Seulgi exclaimed, the news sweeping excitement into my veins as my eyes widened.

“Really?!”

“Yes!” Seulgi grinned, closing her sketchbook, “I can’t wait for us to hang out, it’s been too long since we’ve seen Joohyun.”

“Indeed.” I sighed and picked up the rubber I have dropped like an hour ago, “I also wish I had your skills when it comes to drawing human shapes.”

“Why? So that you can draw Yunho better?” Seulgi’s cackle wasn’t malicious but there was slight judgement in her eyes as I rolled mine.

“You’re so funny today, have I already told you?” I mocked her and Seulgi huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“What? Tell me I’m wrong.” But before I could tell her she was wrong, she was speaking again, “I know you drew him again, Y/N.”

“I didn’t!” My response was too fast and defensive and I regretted speaking up the second I saw Seulgi’s eyes flash with interest.

“You didn’t draw Yunho?” She asked shocked, not even bothering to hide it. I sighed lowly, awaiting the questions tumbling off her lips for the next thirty minutes, “Who is it then?”

“No one important.” I muttered, eyes falling on the drawing, making me realize that I had to put it away before Seulgi got the chance of seeing it. I wouldn’t live another day if she got even a glimpse of it, “Let’s go.”

But as I reached for the sketchbook, Seulgi slapped my hand away hard—it started stinging instantly—and ripped my sketchbook off the drafting board. Her eyebrows furrowed for a second as her eyes took in the drawing, and then, a loud gasp left her lips as her eyes shot up, staring at me wide eyed, confusion written all over her face.

『Run, baby, run

Run for your life

Gonna tear out your heart

It'll always be mine』

“This isn’t Yunho—”

“I told you—”

“Bitch, this is Song fucking Mingi?!” Seulgi’s voice raised and I gulped, mentally preparing myself for the screaming and nagging to follow. But Seulgi sounded an awful lot composed despite the various emotions written all over her face, “What is Song Mingi doing in your drawing?”

“That’s not Song Mingi.” Was the best I could do as I scoffed, gripping the sketchbook as I tried to yank it out of her hands, but Seulgi was gripping it firmly.

“Yeah, sure, and I’m fucking blind then—” Seulgi rolled her eyes before giving me a deadpan look, “This is Mingi, Y/N, you’re not bullshitting your way out of this. Now, explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” I didn’t mean to snap, but it happened, “It’s not Mingi. Why the hell would I even draw that fucker? It’s just a random face which popped into my head and I drew it mindlessly, alright? Maybe it looks like Mingi, but it’s not him.”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m the fucking Pope in Vatican—”

“Seulgi!” I snapped and tugged on the sketchbook again, finally getting her to release it. She didn’t seem too impressed as I quickly shut the sketchbook and grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, “Shut up and let’s just go.”

“The hell am I shutting up, bitch.” Seulgi scoffed as she got her backpack too, “That’s Mingi and you can’t gaslight me with this one. Are you into him—”

“Oh, my God!” I exclaimed with disgust ridden all over my face, “Do you even hear yourself right now?! How could I be into him? I hate his guts!”

“That’s why you fucking drew him—”

“I didn’t draw him!” I finally exclaimed just as we got out the room, Seulgi shutting the door loudly behind us after she turned the lights off.

“You’ve been acting hella weird ever since we’ve been to Outlaw, Y/N, what are you not telling me?” Seulgi leaned against the wall as I locked up the room.

“I am not acting weird and there’s nothing I’m not telling you, so, will you just drop this whole thing?” I snapped, raising my eyebrows at her in irritation. Seulgi bit her lower lip and crossed her arms in front of her chest as she looked like she was contemplating. But one another glance at my face and she knew she wouldn’t get anything out of me, so she just sighed and shook her head as she pushed off the wall.

“Fine, let it be your way,” She muttered, falling in step with me by my side, “At least it’s not Yunho anymore. You’re finally getting over him—”

“Bitch, I’ve been over him for ages.” I threw my best friend a sharp glare and she just chuckled, shaking her head at me. I held back the urge to slap the back of her head hard in hopes that her delusional thoughts would get slapped out of her head with the effort.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She mocked and before I could go off on her again, she faced me and smiled brightly, “Want to get McDonald’s before we head home?”

All thoughts of Mingi and wanting to hold a whole ass speech to Seulgi about him flew out of my mind at the mention of said junk food and I nodded eagerly, linking my arm with Seulgi’s as she started talking about a girl in her history class and how she managed to embarrass herself and her professor at the same time today.

『Run, baby, run

Run, baby, run』

❱❱ Next chapter

[sequinsmile-x]

Morning Light

Five different Father's Days in Aaron's life.

-x-

Hi friends,

So, this got away from me. Massively. But I can't help myself - I love these '5 times' type fics.

I really hope you enjoy this, and if today is a hard day for you please know I am holding space for you.

This is largely very very soft. So I hope you enjoy it!

Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 6k

Warnings: None! Some, small, bits of angst because I am who I am but nothing that wouldn't be in canon.

Parings: Hotchniss. Brief Haley/Aaron

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

When he wakes up, the house is strangely quiet. 

The gentle silence he’d been used to before Jack was born was gone, the slow lazy mornings he and Haley had once enjoyed a thing of the past. He didn’t miss it, didn’t look back on it fondly like he thought he might, but rather he enjoyed the chaos that seemingly came with having an 8-month-old in the house. 

He groans as he sits up, rubbing his eyes with one hand and reaching over to the other side of the bed with the other. He frowns when he feels nothing but cool sheets, a sign his wife has been up for quite some time, and he stands up, suddenly desperate to seek her out on a rare Sunday morning when he wasn’t away on a case. As he steps out into the hallway he hears her downstairs, a smile breaking out over his face as the sound of her humming to herself, something she always did when she was cooking, travels up the stairs. 

He hovers in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, taking the opportunity to watch her as she splits her attention between the fruit she’s slicing up, the waffle maker in front of her, and Jack sitting in his high chair, oatmeal spread across his face. It was moments like this, watching her as a wife and a mother, that it really struck him how long he’d known her, how long he’d loved her. She’d turned from a slightly rebellious teenager who once convinced him to pierce his ear to the woman right in front of him, grown with him as he did everything he could to ensure he would never repeat his father’s mistakes, that this home would be one free of the violence that had spread through his childhood home like the blackest of mould. 

“What’s all this?” He asks, his smile only getting wider when she jumps, her hand on her chest as she looks up at him, her eyes narrowed as Jack’s giggle fills the room. 

“Jesus, Aaron,” she mutters as he walks over, leaning into his touch despite her irritation, a smile dancing across her face as he kisses her cheek, “I need to get you a bell or something.” 

“Sorry, love,” he replies, kissing her cheek again, “I could have made breakfast.”

He usually did when he was home. It was something he did to try to make up for the times work took him away, a gesture he knew didn’t truly split the load his wife had mostly carried since their son was born. He was starting to see the cracks appearing, how she’d barely hide her annoyance sometimes when a call came through, as if there was anything he could truly do about it. 

“Not today,” she says, smiling at him as she gets on her tiptoes to stamp a kiss against his lips, “Happy Father’s Day.” 

He chokes on a laugh, his smile slightly disbelieving as he looks down at her, pulling her closer with his hand on her back. It was a day that had never meant anything good to him. It had gone uncelebrated in his home for as long as he could remember, his mother’s attempts to acknowledge it diminishing as the years went by, finally disappearing once his father died, any pretence that he’d been a man worth celebrating dying with him. 

“Father’s Day?”

She playfully rolls her eyes at him, a glint to her smile that had first attracted him to her back when they first met in theatre class, “Yes, Aaron. You’re a father now, if you remember.”

He smiles and nods, looking over at Jack who was watching them intently, “Yes, I remember.” 

“And Jack insisted we made your favourite breakfast to mark the occasion,” she says, nodding to the plated-up waffles, syrup and sliced fruit before extracting herself from Aaron’s embrace to walk over and pick Jack up, expertly wiping his messy face and hands in seconds, “He even made you a card.” 

“You did all that for me, buddy?” Aaron says, gratefully taking his son from his wife, kissing the baby’s head as he settles him on his hip. He looks at Haley as he carries on, wanting her to know he appreciates it, that  “Thank you.”

She winks at him, “You stay here, I’m going to go get your presents.” 

Aaron watches her go and then turns his attention to his son, bouncing him on his hip and chuckling as Jack presses his tiny hands into his face. He makes a point of kissing them, his heart growing in his chest as Jack giggles, Aaron’s new favourite sound in the world, but he’s drawn out of it as his cell phone rings in his pocket. He adjusts his hold on Jack and grabs his phone, sighing when he sees it’s JJ calling.

“JJ?” 

“Sorry to call on a Sunday, Hotch,” she says, sounding genuinely remorseful, “But we’ve got a bad one.” 

“How bad?” He asks, as if he has any choice but to leave, as if the tiny bubble he’d been living in since he woke up wasn’t already burst. 

“Florida bad.” 

He presses his lips together and shakes his head, internally cursing the serial killers of the world for at least not giving him one day off, and he kisses Jack’s head, “Tell the team to meet on the jet in an hour.” 

“Yes, sir,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she carries on, “I really am sorry. I know it’s your first Father’s Day.” 

 He hums, “Unless you’re the unsub JJ you don’t have anything to apologise for.” 

She chuckles, the sound drowned out as he hears Haley’s footsteps approaching him. He smiles sadly at her as she stops just short of him, a gift bag hooked over her arm and two cards clasped in her hand. She frowns at him, her eyebrows stitched together with barely covered irritation. 

“See you on the jet.”

When he hangs up, Haley sighs, her hands on her hips as she presses her lips together and shakes her head, “A case?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Apparently it’s a bad one.” 

She chuckles humourlessly, “None of them are good ones, Aaron,” she says, blowing out a breath as she puts the gifts down on the kitchen counter, “It’s Father’s Day. Jack is supposed to spend today with you.” 

“I know,” he replies, guilt that was starting to feel all too familiar licking at his insides for the fact he hadn’t hesitated all that much about the fact they had to go. “We can still have breakfast and open the gifts.” 

She stares at him for a moment before forcing a smile on her face and nodding at him, “Yeah,” she replies, taking Jack from him, kissing their son’s temple as she settles him in their embrace, “That will have to do.” 

He watches as she settles Jack in his high chair again, “Next year I’ll put out a notice that all serial killers need to stop on Father’s Day weekend.” 

She laughs despite herself, shaking her head at him as he takes his seat at the breakfast bar, “Yeah,” she says, her smile genuine but slightly sad, an edge to it he hates that he can’t name, “Next year.” 

___

Aaron’s confused when he hears a knock on his front door at 8.30 am on a Sunday. He’d barely slept, the weight of the day ahead resting heavily on his chest as he tossed and turned all night, his eyes fixed on the clock as the time ticked passed midnight into Father’s Day.

The first Father’s Day since Haley had died. 

It felt strangely harder than Mother’s Day had. For that, he had a plan. He had spoken to Jack’s teacher, had prepared the little boy as much as he could. He’d helped him make a card and pick out flowers and they went to Haley’s grave and spoke to her. It had been difficult, one of the hardest days of his life, but it had been easier than this. Even after the divorce, Haley had made a point of making sure Jack got him a gift and a card. She always made sure he had him that day - that he spent the day with his son if he wasn’t at work and it meant everything to him. 

He knew Jess had bought a card, and that Jack would have made something at school, but it felt lonely. His reality as a single father, a reality he blamed solely on himself, all the more real on a day like today. 

He frowns when there’s another knock on the door and he walks towards it, his confusion only deepening when he spots Emily through the peephole, her arms laden with bags. He opens the door and furrows his brows, wondering if he’d somehow fallen asleep and was dreaming. 

“Emily?” 

“Finally,” she says, walking past him as if she lived here, grunting as she places the bags all down on his kitchen counter, “This shit is heavy.” 

He stares at her, still frozen in place by the door, his mouth hanging open as she shrugs off her jacket, revealing the casual clothes she was wearing underneath. Her being here wasn’t unusual, she was a frequent visitor these days. Ever since Jack and Haley had gone into hiding she’d spent a lot of time with him, reminding him he wasn’t alone, being the friend he hadn’t realised he’d needed until she was right there with him. She’d been even more present since Jack had come back, her ability to make his son comfortable in a world that was suddenly different to him something Aaron was sure he’d never be able to pay her back for. 

“What are you doing here?” 

She smiles, but she’s cut off from responding by Jack barrelling into her side, the little boy seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he wraps his arms around her.

“Em’ly!” 

She leans down and picks him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she settles him on her hip, “Hi Jack,” she says, smiling at Aaron, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze, “I think it’s time we let your Daddy in on our little secret, huh?” She asks, tickling him, drawing a laugh out of the little boy.

Jack nods enthusiastically and turns to Aaron, his arms stretched out for him, “Happy Father’s Day, Daddy!” 

Aaron beams, his smile wide as he accepts his son from Emily’s arms, ignoring the warmth that spreads through him from where his hand grazes hers, “Thanks, buddy,” he says, kissing his son’s cheek as he takes a step back, his smile turning curious as he looks at Emily, “I’m still not sure what’s going on.” 

She smiles at the sight of them together, her stomach flipping as she replies, “Jack asked me if I knew it was Father’s Day coming up just a couple of weeks ago, and he said you liked to have your favourite breakfast on Father’s Day,” her smile turns soft, a way to quietly let him know she knew it was something Haley had done for him, “But he’s too small to cook for you. So he asked me to help.”

“Em’ly said she’d come over,” Jack says, his smile wide, so similar to Haley’s it makes Aaron ache, and Aaron lets out a shaky laugh, shaking his head at the two of them. He can see the spark of insecurity in Emily’s eyes, something she tries and fails to hide from him, and he knows he has to extinguish it before it catches fire. 

“Well, this is a very nice surprise,” he says, smiling at her before he looks at his son, “Why don’t you go get changed out of your pyjamas and I’ll help Emily set up?”

He nods and kisses his father’s cheek before he scrambles down to the ground, running to his room and leaving the two adults alone. Aaron obverses her as she looks at the ground, purposefully avoiding eye contact, and he’s overwhelmed by the love he’d been harbouring for her for far too long. 

He hadn’t been able to name it until she started coming around after he’d been attacked. It had followed him everywhere, haunting him and tapping him on the shoulder every time she so much as smiled at him. As soon as he could name it, he felt a wave of shame, sure that he didn’t deserve to be with a woman like her after everything he’d done, even if he was fairly sure she loved him back. 

“You didn’t have to do this.” 

She looks up at him, her eyebrows furrowed as if he was being ridiculous. As if there had been no other option other than for her to come over when he knew she’d usually still be sleeping. 

“Yes I did,” she says, nodding towards the pile of things she’d abandoned on his counter, “Now, help me get this unpacked. I’m doing all the cooking though.” 

He smiles curiously as she unpacks the bags she’d brought with her, his focus fixed on the waffle iron she sets down on his kitchen counter, “You hate waffles.” 

She looks up at him, a surprised smile bursting across her face before she tries to suppress it, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she narrows her eyes at him, “How do you know that?” 

“You were complaining about them at the hotel breakfast buffet on a case recently,” he says, the memory making a smile flick across her face, her condemnation of the food something that had stuck with him. The way her eyebrows had pinched together in the same way they would when she was presented with a particularly gruesome case file, “You called them ‘pretentious pancakes.’”

She stares at him for a moment, a familiar feeling that she desperately tries to ignore whenever it occurs bubbling in her chest. Whenever she saw him like this, soft and so unlike the man she’d got to know at work, her stomach would flip. Forbidden feelings for a forbidden version of him that felt even more wrong given the situation he was in, the fact he was grieving a woman he’d known most of his life. 

Emily first realised she was in love with him when she found him in the hospital after Foyet had attacked him. Seeing him like that hurt, a guttural pain low in her gut that told her the feelings she’d written off as a school-girl crush ran far deeper than that. It was inappropriate at best, she knew that, especially at first when he was in pain and missing his son. She did her best to love him practically. To be there for him by driving him to work, by silently paying for the medical bills his insurance didn’t cover. 

It was something she’d carried on since Haley died, her affection shifting from just him to him and Jack. She spent weekends with them. Did simple things like grocery shop and going to the zoo with them, their smiles and laughter, the joy they found even in the darkest of times, all she ever wanted in return. It’s why when Jack pulled her aside a couple of weeks ago, a frown on his face that was all Aaron, and asked for her help with doing something for Father’s Day she hadn’t needed to think about it. 

She would do anything for either of them. 

She clears her throat as she looks at the food on the counter, her cheeks warm as he continues to stare at her, “I can’t believe you remembered that.” 

“I remember everything about you.” His words hang in the air around them, a confession he hadn’t even intended to make, and for a moment they both freeze. Everything they hadn’t said, and knew now wasn’t the time to say, written across their faces, both of them staring at each other as if they were afraid to say anything, to disturb the delicate holding pattern they’d found themselves in for months now. “So,” he says, smiling at her, “Did you buy this waffle iron especially for today?”

She hears what he hasn’t said, all the things they’d talk about when life was a little simpler again. When the muddy waters he was wading through were clearer. And she smiles, her dimples carved out deeply in her cheeks as they go warm with embarrassment only he could drag out of her. 

“Shut up.” 

___

Emily smiles to herself as she closes the hotel room door and slides the lock across, proud of herself for not waking up her boyfriend as she quietly wheels the room service she’d ordered closer to the bed. 

She climbs on top of him, straddling his abdomen as she leans down, pressing her chest against his as she starts to stamp a series of kisses to his jaw, the scratch of his stubble rubbing against her lips, and up to his cheek. 

“Wake up honey,” she whispers, her hand sneaking under the hem of his t-shirt, her fingers dancing across the scar at the top of his chest, “Wake up.” 

Aaron groans, his hands landing on her hips as if magnetized as he wakes up, pulling her impossibly closer as she continues to kiss him until he turns his head, capturing her lips against his. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy you waking me up by climbing on top of me half naked,” he drawls, his voice rough and raspy from a lack of sleep, “Why am I awake at…” he groans as he looks at the clock, “5 am,” he sniffs, finally pulling his face away from her, “And can I smell breakfast?” 

She smiles as she sits up, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as his hands find her bare thighs, the shirt of his she’d fallen asleep in gathered around her on top of him, “Happy Father’s Day, honey.” 

He’s still half asleep, so he frowns at her, “What?” 

She chuckles and leans into him, her hair falling down and covering them both as she presses her lips against his. He smoothes it back, pushing his fingers through the soft locks as he holds her in place, never tiring of having her this close. 

“It’s Father’s Day,” she mutters, barely pulling back enough to speak, her breath skipping across his face, “And I know you’re sad we’re working,” she kisses him again, “So I ordered room service so you can have breakfast,” she pulls back and smiles at him, her eyes sleepy and full of love, “And later on you’re going to FaceTime Jack. And I’ll fight anyone who tries to interrupt.” 

He stares up at her, blown away, not for the first time, by the way she loved him and his son. The way she looked after them, forever making sure she put them first. He’d been irritated when they’d been called away on a case late on Friday, his teeth grinding and his shoulders tight as the jet took off, leaving his son and any chance of spending a day that had become so important to him behind. Emily had been his saving grace. Her presence enough to make him feel better, her hand on his knee under the table on the jet a comfort, a soothing balm to any ailment, he wasn’t sure he could ever live without again. 

He rolls them, capturing the surprised yelp she lets out in a kiss as he lays half on top of her. She hooks one of her legs behind his back and digs her heel into the top of his ass, moaning into the kiss as she deepens it, her nails lightly scratching at his scalp. 

She found it hard to believe that this time last year she’d been alone in Paris, torn apart in every possible way, terrified Ian would jump out of any shadow she came across. It had felt hopeless at the time. Like she’d never get to come home, or feel like herself again. The months had stretched out, every lonely night a small infinity in which she would lay there and play all of her decisions over and over in her head, a punishment of sorts she’d given herself. A penance she felt she deserved for letting down the people she loved, for putting them in danger. 

She’d almost kissed Aaron the night before Sean McCallister called. They’d gone out for dinner, just the two of them, a night they were both too shy to call a date. She’d come close to pressing her lips against his, to inviting him inside, but she’d been interrupted by her neighbour, the moment gone as quickly as it had appeared. Aaron had kissed her cheek and smiled at her as he left, and she told herself she’d kiss him next time. Afterwards, when everything had been torn from her, she wished she’d kissed him. Wished that she knew what it was like to be with him, to feel his bare skin against hers, but now she knew how it felt, she knew it would have been worse. The reality so much more than she ever imagined laying on the cold floor of her unassuming apartment in Paris. 

She hums as she pulls back from the kiss, smiling as he chases her lips. She rests her forehead against his and presses her thumb into his lower lip, a sound she refused to call a giggle escaping when he kisses the pad of it. 

“Breakfast will go cold,” she whispers, her hand tracing up his cheek and mussing through his ruffled hair, “You can have your way with me afterwards.”

He hums, “Oh yeah?”

She nods, rubbing her nose against his, “Why do you think I woke you up so early?”

Aaron kisses her fiercely, his grip on her waist tight, before he pulls away, dragging her with him as he sits up, “What did you order?” 

She scoots towards the trolley she’d wheeled over and passes him the tray of food, settling next to him against the headboard before she pulls the metal tray cover off of it, smiling widely as she reveals a plate of waffles next to a plate of pancakes, “Tah-dah!”

He laughs at her flare and tilts his head as he turns to look at her, “There weren’t waffles on the menu. I checked when we had breakfast yesterday.” 

She shrugs and shifts closer, the tray lying over both of their laps, “It’s amazing what you can convince people to do when you offer to leave them a very large tip.” 

“You asked them to make them for me?” 

She nods, reaching out for a fork to pull apart her pancakes, “It’s your favourite, and they already had all the ingredients.” 

He smiles, his gaze fixed on her profile as she eats. His eyes drift from her sharp jawline to the slope of her nose. He’d always known she was beautiful, it was something that had been hard to deny even back when he didn’t trust her, but seeing her like this, up close and bare-skinned as they ate breakfast together, was something he didn’t think he’d ever get used to. 

“You’re staring.” 

He leans in and kisses her cheek, unashamed that he’d been caught out, “You’re beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and turns her head to kiss him, the taste of syrup passing from her lips to his. “Eat your pretentious pancakes,” she says, kissing him again, “Then we can have sex until your alarm goes off.” 

He laughs and nods, “Yes, sweetheart.”

___

Aaron yawns as he walks through the house, scratching the back of his head as he walks into the living room, finding his wife exactly where he knew he would. 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

She looks up at him from the baby in her arms, her smile shaking slightly as their eyes meet. They were shining up at him, a mix of exhaustion and frustration reflected in the tears he knew she hated. She has their newborn daughter clutched against her chest, her milk-stained t-shirt bunched up over her breast as she tries to feed her, an edge of desperation in the way she tries to get Rose to eat.

“Morning,” she replies as she looks back down at the baby, “I don’t think she’s getting anything.” 

He sits next to her, one hand on her back and the other on Rose’s and he smiles at his little girl, still as enraptured by her as he was the very first time he’d seen her. He kisses the side of Emily's head, “You remember what the doctor said, Em. She won’t eat much these first few days.” 

She hums, clearly not believing him as Rose unlatches, and she looks as defeated as she sounds when she lifts the newborn to rest her against her shoulder. Aaron adjusts her shirt and nursing bra for her and she smiles gratefully, a silent thank you passing between the two of them in the quiet of their living room. 

Rose was less than two days old, fresh home from the hospital only the night before, and already the centre of her parent's world along with her older brother. They’d started trying to get pregnant just before their wedding and it had taken a little longer than either of them had hoped. Aaron had watched as his wife folded in on herself with each negative test. A cruel origami of her worst fears as she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d let herself get too happy. That she’d got carried away in the fantasy of him and being Jack’s mother, and she’d forgotten that she still had a past that she felt she hadn’t undone yet. No matter how many times he assured her that his love for her was unconditional, that he would be there if they had 10 children or no more other than Jack, she didn’t believe him. A constant tension thrumming under her skin right up until the moment she was staring at a positive test. 

Her pregnancy hadn’t been easy, far from it, but he knew the moment she was handed their little girl that Emily considered every part of it worth it. 

“Sorry if I woke you up,” she says, kissing the side of their daughter’s head, “She wouldn’t go back to sleep so I brought her down here.”

“You could have woken me up,” he says, pulling her close so she’s leaning against him, both of his girls in his arms as he leans back on the couch.

“I wanted you to have a lie in,” she mutters, rubbing soothing circles on Rose’s back, “It’s Father’s Day.” 

In any other circumstance, he’s sure he’d laugh, he’s sure he’d point out that every other Father’s Day they’d been together she’d woken him up early for one reason or another. Whether it was to make sure he got to continue the tradition of a waffle breakfast that Haley had started even if they were on the other side of the country, knee-deep in casework, or because she’d found a spider the size of her fist in the pantry and woken him up with a scream. It was close to absurd that this year, she didn’t deem their tiny scrawny newborn, who was still getting over the shock of no longer being tucked up warm inside her mother, a reason to wake him. 

It was her all over though. The love of his life. She was a mess of contradictions tied together with empathy and beauty and he wouldn’t want her any other way. 

“You can always wake me up,” he assures her, kissing her forehead, “Now why don’t you and Rosie sit here,” he says, smiling when he spots the baby had fallen asleep, “And I’ll go make breakfast.” 

Emily’s face crumbles, the shininess that had been set in them for days, making them look even deeper than normal, giving way to tears. They splash down onto her cheeks as she shakes her head, burning hot tracks into her already slightly sticky skin.

“No, I should do it,” she says, wincing as she tries to move forward, held in place by his arm around her, “You shouldn’t have to make your own breakfast today. 

Her earnestness makes his heart swell, overwhelming love for her spilling out of him and onto the floor around them. He cups her jaw and pulls her close, kissing her tears away until he presses his lips against hers.

“Em, sweetheart, I say this with all the love in my heart,” he says as he pulls back to look at her, thumbing away new tears that fall past her lashline, “But you had a baby 36 hours ago and you can barely walk let alone stand at the kitchen counter and cook. You just need to concentrate on her okay?” he says, nodding down to the baby girl in her arms, “And anyway, she’s the best early Father’s Day present ever,” he adds, the vice around his heart loosening as Emily smiles at him, “You’ve already outdone yourself.” 

She swallows thickly, her lips pressed together as she tries to figure out if he's lying, her profiling skills left somewhere between her 40-hour labour and the rollercoaster of emotions she’d been through since, “Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely,” he says, kissing the tip of her nose and smiling when she scrunches it up, “Now you two sit here and look pretty, I’ll go make us some food.” 

“Okay,” she says, finally relaxing back into the couch as she relents, well aware that he was right anyway, that she couldn’t stand up straight if she were offered millions of dollars to do so, “We can do that.” 

He kisses her forehead and walks away, humming to himself as he decides this is going to be his best Father’s Day yet.

___

He’s woken up by tiny hands pressing against his face, and his daughter's faux-whisper, somehow louder than her usual talking voice as she pokes his cheek.

“Are you awake Daddy?” 

He smiles as he grabs her, her giggle one of his favourite sounds in the world, right up there with his sons and his wife, and he presses a series of kisses to her cheeks, “I am now Rosie-Posie.” 

The four-year-old carries on laughing, eventually wriggling out of his grip and settling on Emily’s empty side of the bed, “Mommy sent me up.”

He wraps his arm around her and pulls her closer, resting his cheek on top of her head as she settles against his side, “Did she?”

He feigns innocence, pretending he doesn’t know what day it is, as if his wife hadn’t threatened him to stay upstairs until she came up and told him she was ready. 

Rose hums and fiddles with the wristband of his watch, her tiny fingers always ready to grasp something, “Breakfast is almost ready.” 

“What’s for breakfast?” He asks, playing dumb again, his smile soft as she rolls her eyes at him, looking impossibly more like Emily than she usually does. 

“Waffles, Daddy,” she says, “Just like always.” 

“Well that’s good,” he replies, pushing some of her unruly hair from her face, “Waffles are my favourite.” 

“Mine too!” She replies, her smile wide as her apparent irritation with him was forgotten as soon as it had appeared.

“And mine,” Jack says having appeared in the doorway, bounding into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed, “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.” 

He thinks of that first Father’s Day, in the quiet hours before Emily had shown up with the waffle iron she was currently using, when it was just him and Jack. He’d been so young then, not much older than Rose was now, and at the time it was impossible to imagine a different reality than the one he’d found himself in. Sometimes, when he woke from a nightmare, his monster human and oh so real, there would always be a moment when he thought he was alone again, that everything he’d had in the last few years had been nothing more than a dream.

Then Emily would be there. Her forehead against his and her hand curled around the back of his neck as she brought him back to her, soft reassurances and stories about their children until his breathing evened out and he could no longer feel the press of Foyet’s knife. He did the same for her, their relationship a give and take that had grown with them, each of them always exactly what the other needed. 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

Emily walks into the room, their two-year-old on her hip and matching smiles on their faces, flour spattered in both of their hair, “Breakfast is ready.” 

“Waffles!” Rose cheers, and Lucas joins in from Emily’s arms, his tiny hands clapping together at the thought of his favourite breakfast. Rose runs out of the room, overwhelmed by her excitement and Jack is hot on her tail, ever the protective big brother. 

Emily sighs performatively as Aaron climbs out of bed, shaking her head at her two eldest children as they run out of the room, “I can’t believe I live in a house full of waffle lovers.” 

“Well two of them look exactly like you, baby,” Aaron says as he makes it to her side, his hand on her back and his lips catching the corner of hers, the flavour of the raw batter she’d clearly tasted passing from her lips to his, “They had to get something from me.” 

She hums and cups his cheek, adjusting her hold on Lucas, the little boy’s hands firmly wrapped around the strap of her tank top, “Happy Father’s Day, honey.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her, his lips barely touching hers this time before Lucas bats his hands at his father, a frown on his face Emily always said was all him.

“No kissy,” he says, resting his head on his mother’s chest, “My mama.” 

Emily and Aaron both suppress a laugh as they look at each other, Lucas’s possessiveness of Emily something that had been strong ever since he was a tiny little thing. It had only got worse with the recent news their family would unexpectedly get bigger, another baby tiny and safe under Emily’s still flat skin that they hadn’t anticipated. She’d told him a month ago, her eyes bright and shining with anxiety, somehow worried he wouldn’t want this. As if he would ever get tired of having more of her in the world. He’d simply kissed her until she wasn’t worried anymore, something he’d learned long ago was the easiest way to calm her down.

“Sorry, Lukey,” Aaron says sincerely, knowing now wasn’t the time to try and resolve the possessiveness, “It won’t happen again.” 

He looks back at his wife and she winks at him, mouthing three words at him over their son’s head in the silence of the room. 

I love you.

A familiar warmth spreads through him. Brought on by the softness of her skin, the sound of his eldest children giggling downstairs, and the faint smell of waffles in the air. Every time he’d ever doubted himself, every awful thing he’d ever survived, seemed insignificant in moments like these. All it would take would be one smile from his wife, one peek of the dimples she’d passed onto their children, although she would claim he’d passed on his, and it would disappear. Leaving him only with this. A life he would have once thought impossible.

A life where he had room for things as beautifully simple as a tradition like breakfast on Father’s Day.

He mouths the words back at her, a reflex that was no less special even though he’d done it countless times, her smile in return no less beautiful than the first time. 

I love you too. 

-x-

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[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Sleepover

Part of my 900 Followers Celebration!

Request: 900!! Congratulations! Can I request “are you wearing my shirt” with Roy?

Roy Kent x Reader

1.1k words

Warnings: Language, definite smutty references

Spending the night wasn’t something you did. Not with Roy Kent. You’d go over, sometimes after a real date, more often than not after receiving a late-night text from the football player asking what you were up to, and upon your arrival you’d immediately fall into his bed, and, after the obligatory cuddling, he’d walk you to your car and leave you with nothing but messy hair and a sloppy kiss at two in the morning.

Never mind that you actually really, truly liked him. Never mind that the leaving always made your heart break just a little. This was the pattern the two of you had fallen into, and it was good enough for you. No sleepovers, ever.

But last night, Roy was feeling particularly vigorous, and it was quite late (well, early) by the time the two of you collapsed onto his bed, a sweaty, breathless tangle of bodies and sheets. He’d wrapped his arms around you, same as always, and held you far too close for something this casual- not that you were complaining. Try as you might to stay awake so you could get home at a decent hour (well, decent for a hookup), you let your eyes close, especially once you heard light snores coming out of the mouth you’d been kissing just moments ago.

It felt like you’d barely closed your eyes when an unfamiliar alarm woke you up. You groggily looked around, realizing that you were still in Roy’s bed. A place you had never been after the sunrise. But sure enough, a soft light came through the window and illuminated the empty spot next to you.

“Fuck, sorry about that.” Roy emerged from the bathroom, sporting nothing but a pair of sweatpants. “Got a match today, need to start getting ready.” He casually strolled over to his nightstand and turned off his alarm clock.

“No worries. I’ll get out of your hair.” Embarrassed to be caught still in his bed, violating your unspoken agreement, you began to get up, intent on gathering your things and heading home immediately.

Roy reached out and touched your face tenderly, looking at you with sweetness in his brown eyes. “Want to come to my game?”

Fuck. That was new. You watched him on television sometimes, and you’d gone to a couple of games with friends for fun, neglecting to tell them that you had regular romps with the team’s captain, but he’d never invited you to a match. It felt much more serious than the “See you later” that he typically sent you off with.

“Sure,” you heard yourself squeak out as you grabbed your bra off the floor. “You’ll text me about picking up my ticket?”

He shook his head. “I mean, you can shower here. And then you can come to the stadium with me. That way I can make sure your ticket gets taken care of myself.”

Your chest was filled with a warm fondness as your brain begged you to relax and not read too much into things. “Alright,” you murmured.

There was a sweetness to the way Roy showed you to his shower and made sure you had a fluffy towel. “There’s a lavender shampoo there,” he pointed out. “I like to use it when I’m really stressed. Smells fucking great. You’re welcome to use it.” Before he left you to your shower, he planted a small kiss to your lips; despite the much racier activities you regularly participated in together, you were probably more thrilled by that chaste peck than anything else he’d ever done.

Once you’d showered (using that wonderful lavender shampoo, of course), you threw your clothes back on. Your jeans were fine, but your top was something you’d worn to the club you’d been at with your girlfriends, where you were dancing with some handsome guy when Roy’s text came through, causing you to dash out with some lame excuse to your friends. Not exactly something you’d wear to a football match.

You poked your head back into Roy’s bedroom; he was gone, probably in the kitchen, based on the sounds you could hear coming from that direction. Necessity overcoming embarrassment, you opened his closet and moved past identical black t-shirts until you found a blue Greyhounds shirt. You threw it over your head and used the extra scrunchie you always kept in your purse to tie it at your waist, creating a decently flattering silhouette. Grateful that you always kept a small makeup bag on you, you quickly threw on some mascara and lipstick and declared yourself presentable.

Roy was staring at the toaster when you strolled into the kitchen in the most nonchalant way you could manage. “Hey, d’you like cream ch-” He stopped and stared at you, mouth slightly agape. “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Shit. Your entire body broke into a deep blush as you felt your bubble burst. “Oh. Fuck, is that okay? I didn’t have anything that was appropriate for a football game, but I could take it off, or I could go home and change, I mean I don’t even have to go to the match if you don’t-”

Your humiliated babbling distracted you from the fact that Roy had walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Don’t you dare take it off,” he chuckled. “It looks fucking great on you.”

That blush covering your skin went from embarrassed to pleased. “You really think so?”

“Fuck yes.” He captured your lips in a deep kiss, his fingertips digging into the material of the shirt you wore. “You should always wear it to my games.”

Your eyes fluttered from his kiss and his words. “You-you want me to start going to your matches?”

He nuzzled his nose against yours, a gentle gesture that had your knees feeling weak. “If you want,” he hummed. “Can I be really fucking honest with you?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“’m getting really fucking sick of you leaving my house right after… you know.” He shrugged, an unsure expression crossing his face. “I’d like you to try sticking around a bit more. Hang out during the daytime. Go out on real dates more often. Let me actually make you breakfast in the morning.”

Your heart hammered faster than it had at any point the night before. “D’you mean it?” you whispered, terrified that if you spoke too loud, you’d wake up from this dream you were surely living in.

“Absolutely.” He kissed you again, somehow managing to be both harsh and tender as his lips pressed against yours. When he pulled away, you swore you were seeing hearts everywhere like a cartoon character. “Now then.” He tugged you further into the kitchen, where two mugs of coffee sat next to the toaster. “Tell me how you like your bagel.”

[candydust]

A little fictional snzscenario I found myself exploring.

Part | 1.

Even though her allergies been troubling her since morning, she was still adamant carrying on her daily schedule. Which first and foremost should go as planned with a refreshing jog through the park.

She sniffled putting on her sneakers. The nose kept itching, sending her into frustrating false starts. She grabbed her phone, put the ear buds in. Gathering her hair up in a messy ponytail. Checking herself out quickly in the mirror, she figured the slim yoga pants were suitable for running too.

She headed out the door.

Starting off slow, she began her usual jog through the block. The nose kept bothering her, tickling and itching and she hastily rubbed at it. Breathing through her mouth, she felt her breath starting to hitch. Slowing down the pace, she focused on the itch in nose which flared her nostrils widely.

‘Uh…’ She hitched again, hastily building up towards the sneeze that she so badly wanted to release.

‘Eh-Tschh!-K’schu!! …’ She sneezed into her elbow, whilst trying to keep up a steady pace. ‘Ah-tsch!-Tsch! …ah’Tschu!!’ She wiped off the nose with the back of her hand and kept running. ‘…T-scho!-Ah-Tscho!-Tschu!!!’ The nose began to run too and she caught herself sniveling frequently. At least the tickle had subsided and she felt some sort relieved feeling from it.

Finally she reached the park. She slowed down momentarily. Her moist nose wasn’t done and she had to sneeze all over again. Narrowing her eyes, she brought up her phone. Unlocking it, she didn’t bother to conceal any specific expression as the facial features of a pre-sneeze took over her.

‘Tsch!-Tschu!!’Schew!!’ Barely turning her head as some droplets ended up on the screen of her phone. She wiped off her nose with her hand once more.  ‘Eh-K’schu!!-Ah’K’tscho!!’ It was harder for her to hold back her sneezes as they were growing stronger from each fit. Putting the phone back, she sniffled strongly. Starting to jog towards the nearest convenience store.

She was just about to enter when someone called her name. Turning around she took out her ear buds as she was met by a colleague. About her own age, they’d formed some sort of loosely based friendship.

‘Hey out jogging again?’

‘Yea.’ She sniffled. Giving her nose a quick rub. ‘What about you? Out shopping?’

‘Yea I’m going to buy that shirt we talked about during lunch do you remember?’

‘Yea.’ She felt her nose twitch. She put her hands on her hips with a blank expression. The tickle established rapidly inside her nose and she hitched. ‘Ah-tsch!-Tsch!-hhh-Tschuu!!’

She sneezed openly to the right side of her friend. Knowing it was probably due to allergies she didn’t bother to cover.

‘Oh bless you! Allergies?’

‘Ah-Ktsch!! …Yea. …Ah-T’schoo!! Severe during spring.’

Despite the urgent sniffles, her nose began to drip and she stroked at it with her open palm.

‘Poor thing.’

‘You don’t have any tissues on you, do you?’

‘Sorry. All out.’

‘T’schs!!’ Sniff. ‘Eh’tschue!!’ Sniffle. ‘K-tschu!!-T’schou!!’ Sniffle, sniffle.

She was now sniffling after every sneeze. The itch just wouldn't subside and was beginning to bother her tremendously. She had to keep the jogging session short. Even though she wasn’t prone to quit anything she’d started.

‘K-tschu!!-ooh.' She caught that sneeze into her elbow. 'Shit I really must get going. I can’t just stand here and sneeze my head off. We’ll talk later? Nice seeing you.’

‘Yes, see you. Feel better!’

She went inside the store. The monitored screen that looked back at her revealed her red nose and watery eyes. Feeling a slight congestion, she quickly walked over and got packs of tissues and a couple of face masks. They come in handy for her next run, she figured.

Walking out the store she put the tissues to her nose and blew it vigorously. It felt so good to her nose to get rid of the ticklish particles momentarily. She threw the used tissue into a trash can and picked up a jogging pace on her way home.

She reached the park and that’s where her nose begun to bother her once more. She stopped altogether and breathed heavily through her mouth. The nose twitched and flared, the itching sensation traveling further up to the triggering point.

‘Ah-tsch!!-Tscho!!-K-tsch!!-Tsch!!’ She sneezed freely and openly. The stifling sneezes so harsh she felt her nostrils widening from each. A faint mist had landed on top of her sports bra.  She awkwardly wiped it off.

‘Bless you!’ A bypasser exclaimed and she nodded at the man hastily, building up towards another fit. Fishing up a new tissue, she put it over her nose and mouth.

‘Ah-Tschosmm!-K'schhhhmm!!’ The nose dripped and she blew it harshly. The forceful tendency caused a ticklish burning and she hitched yet again.

‘Tschue!-Ah’Tschu!... Ah-RASCHiu!! ASCHEu!!! ...Oh wow.’ She said to herself exhausted when her nostrils flared once more. ‘…ASCH-schu!! AH'GASCHu!!’ The powerful sneezes bent her over.

Rubbing at her nose with the tissue, she was surprised over how strong and loud the sneezes came out. She blew her nose again more carefully. Putting her ear buds back in, she walked the way home. Ready and steadily with a tissue at hand.

[whumpshaped]

you‘ve absolutely re-awakened my love for drugged whumpees! what about a whumpee drugging themselves as a bad coping mechanism? maybe even specifically with a feel-good drug (because i loved those drabbles)! but this time a friend is there to take care of them and make sure they are safe, maybe they got some concerning messages from whumpee and went to visit them.

also because i am afraid of you and your angst (/positiv) please let this be comfy i am always in need of comfort

tw drugs, addiction, past trauma, alcohol mention

i love you sooo much

ive never had such a good friwnd u know that?

ur fucking awesome and we shuld hang out more

As touched as Caretaker was reading the messages, they didn’t sound like Whumpee in their usual state. They rarely ever got sappy like this, and they never resorted to the abbreviations unless they were too drunk to see the keyboard. There was something going on, and Caretaker hoped it was just a couple shots of vodka — despite it being 10 am.

“Hey, Whumpee?” They knocked on the door again, louder this time. “Can we hang out, like, right now? I brought some food.”

That was a bit of a stretch, but the door opened soon after they’d mentioned it. “That’s awesome,” they slurred, their excited grin faltering when they saw no bags in Caretaker’s hands. “Where’s it…?”

“I lied,” they said easily, gently guiding Whumpee back inside. “But I brought myself, and I can make you some food in a bit. Before that, though… Drinking in the morning again, are we?”

Whumpee gave them a sheepish smile, the promised free meal entirely forgotten. “Y’know how it is,” they said, giggling a little. “Some days y’just gotta… feel alive…”

Caretaker frowned. This felt different from when Whumpee was drunk. “What did you have?”

“Ah, just… just a bit of this and that…”

They stepped closer and cupped Whumpee’s face, taking a good look at their eyes. That didn’t look very promising. “Whumpee, did you take something?”

“Noooooo…” Whumpee tried to swat their hands away, with little success due to how uncoordinated their movements were. “No, you’re– you’re misunderstanding, ’m just… just happy to see you. Your pupils dilate when you look at someone you looove...”

Caretaker sighed. “I would like you to honestly tell me what you’ve taken. Please. I won’t judge, I won’t be mad, all I want is to stay here and take care of you, okay?”

It was like Whumpee didn’t even hear them. They kept nuzzling against Caretaker’s hands, almost purring as they did so. “You’re so warm…”

“Sure am.” They poked their cheek. “Whumpee, listen to me.”

“Would you ever kiss me?” they asked abruptly, unfocused eyes now fixed on Caretaker’s lips. “‘cause I really wanna kiss right now… Just once…”

Well, that wasn’t a direct answer to their previous questions, but it might as well have been. There was one drug they knew of that made Whumpee act like this, one they’d said they had quit months ago.

The one Whumper had gotten them hooked on.

“You wanna kiss me, specifically?” Caretaker knew well that Whumpee didn’t see them as anything other than a friend, and they weren’t the type to be going around kissing people platonically.

“Mmm, yeah… You’re a good kisser, I’m sure… I can tell stuff like that…”

Yeah, they’d definitely taken Whumper’s drugs. Fantastic. Apparently there was still someone out there who was supplying Whumpee, but that was a problem for another day.

“Tell you what,” they started gently. “Instead of kissing, we’ll go to the kitchen and I’ll make you some of your favourite food.”

Whumpee lit up instantly. “Deal!”

Caretaker kissed them on the forehead and led them to one of the chairs, making sure they were comfortable before walking over to the cupboards. They were going to have to keep Whumpee talking, so they could track their movements inside the house; they were prone to wandering whenever they were high, and they couldn’t keep staring at them while cooking.

In all honesty, there was not much Caretaker could do now that Whumpee had already taken the thing. They couldn’t even do much about the addiction itself that seemed to be ruining any semblance of a chance of a full recovery. But there was one thing they could do, and that was supervising their friend whenever the need arose.

[myzzjolanda]

Welpz, I finished something.

I'm sorry if it's weird, I'm sorry for mistakes, English isn't my first language, bladiebladiebla. I'm just tired, wrote this in just over an hour because I wanted it written. It's cute at least. I guess.

____

KITTY

Show: Wednesday

Wordcount: 1776

Warnings: slight mentions of horror I guess?

Pairing: platonic Larissa Weems x reader

Enjoy!

It had been an increddible long day. An incredible long week even. Flu-season started, so on top of her normal workload, Larissa had to make sure classes of 3 different teachers were covered since they got ill as well, the heating system failed last Tuesday ánd Wednesday and on top of that, she had to pick up Wednesday Adams from the police station today. “Breaking into the curch? On broad daylight? What wére you thinking, miss Adams?”, she asked the girl angrily when they got to the car. She closed the door a bit too hard. Who can blame me, she thought; it’s Friday. I just wanted to get to bed after classes ended. “I was just testing a theory.”, the girl answered. Despite being angry, Larissa couldn’t resist being curious. “Theory? What kind of nonsense-theory did you want to tesr now?”, she answered impatiently when she started the car. “You know that Maria statue? I've been told that when the sun shines on her face in a right way at certain times, some discoulorations make it look like she’s crying blood. I wanted to see that for myself.”. Larissa shuddered. “That’s the… weirdest story I’ve heard in a while. Especially since you decided to break into the church for it! I wont accept such nonsense, you’ll meet at the church tomorrow morning at 8:30, as we have promised the curch and the police, so that you can help clean up the mess!”.

When Larissa entered her rooms next to her office an hour later, she leaned against the door and closed her eyes first. She sighed and put her face into her hands. “that was embarrasing…”, she whispered. She walked to her chair and took of her coat and shoes. She sat down for a moment. She still had so much to do, but she felt tired. So tired… She didn’t have much time to sleep this week. Not even to relax. Although all problems were fixed quite well and quickly, she still felt quite stressed. Larissa felt her lower lip tremble a bit. Perhaps just a little nap? She walked to her bedroom. A little nappy wouldn’t hurt anyonr. She had been quite big this week, she deserved it. She didn’t even bother changing or removing her make-up. When she hid under her blankets, Larissa her arms automatically reached out for Kitty. But now… Larissa’s eyes were wide open immediatly. “Kitty?”. Her lower lip trembled again and her eyes started to water. “Where’s my Kitty?”

___

When the last students of your class left, you burried your face in your hands. It was flu-season, and you surely felt like you almost had the flu. Your head hurt, your throat hurt, your face hurt, everything hurt. Slowly, you packed your stuff. You wanted to go to sleep quickly, but you first had to go to Larissa first. You promised her to go to town together tomorrow, but feeling as you did, it wasn’t a good idea to go out tomorrow. You walked to Larissa’s classroom first, since that was closer to your classroom than her office. It was still open, but it was empty. Except… for a black kitten plushy on Larissa’s desk? She walked to the plushy and picked it up. There wasn’t a name or anything on it. You decided to bring it with you to Larissa her office, since she could tell you who the plushy belonged to. When you knew, you could return it.

Luckily, the walk to Larissa’s office was short, since you started to feel tired from walking already. You knocked on her door. And waited. And knocked again. You frowned. It was Friday afternoon. Larissa never had any appointments at this time… had she? You heard footsteps behind you. “She just had to pick up Wednesday from the policestation”, you heard Vlad say. “oh! Of course.”, you said. You looked at him and gave him a small smile. “thanks.”

When you were in your rooms, you raised the plushy to eyelevel. “oh, what to do with you?”, you said to the plushy. You frowned a bit. Eventually, you decided to make a picture with it and send iy to Larissa, asking whose plushy it is and telling her you kept it safe untill the owner reclaimed it. When you sent the picture, you picked up the plushy again. “Well, wanna make some new friends for the time being? Come one, I’ve got some cute friends for you!”, you said enthousasticly. Although you felt quite sick, the thought of your own plushies made you quite happy. “Look, I got a guard bear over there, from my visit to London, he protects everyone… and look! My me to you bears, they are cute and fluffy, and that big brown bear over there I got from my uncle when I was two… I think you’ll fit in his lap quite well!”, you told the plushy quite happily. You jawned. You were really tired. “wait for me when you want to sleep. I’mma get changed. I need a nappy!”, you told your plushies and the new kitten. When you crawled under the blankets a few minutes later, you fell asleep almost immediatly.

___

Larissa paced around in her office worried. What happened to Kitty? She had brought her to her classroom that day, simply because she didn’t trust the new cleaner. What if she decided to steal her Kitty, or just throw her away? Larissa was nervous about bringing her plushy, since the chance of anyone finding out she had a plushy or the fact that she could lose her was too big to her, but she wasn’t letting her in her rooms with that mean cleaner. But after class, she got a call that Wednesday was arrested again and she had to run to the policestation to pick her up, and she couldn’t remember what she had done with her plushy. She remember rushing to pack her stuff, but Kitty wasn’t in her bag, so Kitty must’ve been still in the classroom. But when she went to her classroom, Kitty wasn’t there either.

Larissa started to panick. Were was her Kitty? Was she alone? Was she scared? Who knew. She wanted to call you about it. Ask for your help finding her. But she was scared of your reaction, since you didn’t know about her Kitty yet and het normaly perfect make-up was ruined from the crying and tantrums she had because she couldn’t find Kitty anywhere. She looked at her phone on her desk, doubting if she should call you or not. Precisely at that moment, her screen lit up. Slightly suprised, she walked to her phone. It was a message from you, with a picture of –

“KITTY!”, Larissa almost yelled out hapily. “Hey Riss, I found this cute plushy in your classroom, do you know whom it belongs to? Can you tell them I bring it to my room and that they can pick it up there?”, she read aloud softly. She had do read the message multiple times before the realisation came her plushy was safe. “She’s save, she’s save, she’s save!”, Larissa almost sang when jumping around in her room. “But know I have to tell y/n that the plushy is mine.”. Now, Larissa frowned a bit. “oh well, she wouldn’t mind I guess. And if she does, I don’t care. I want my Kitty back.”. And with that, she quickly put on her shoes and walked to your room.

___

You quickly woke up from a knock on your door. You looked at the time on your phone. “Oh shit, 9 already!”, you mumbled. You stumbled the door and saw Larissa standing there. She looked like a complete mess. “Larissa? Come in, are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying!” “Yes… Yes, I’m okay now, thank you.”. She stepped in. “Are yóú okay though? You sound horrible.” “Nah, I think I’ll have to cancel our plans for tomorrow. I’m afraid I cought a flu too. But tell me Riss, why have yoj been crying?”. Larissa opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again. She played with a ring on her finger nervously. “The kitten plushy you found? That one is mine. I lost her. I got her ages ago and I grew fond of her, and then I thought I lost her for good because l couldn’t find her anywhere, and then I got upset because my Kitty is just the sweetest and I was so tired and I just wanted my Kitty and…” Larissa stopped talking. She looked at her feet nervously. “Ooh she’s yours! Don’t worry, I can understand you were scared!” “Do you? I’m certain you think I’m chidlish.”. You took her hand and almost pulled her to your bedroom. “No I don’t! Look, I got to show you something!”.

___

When they walked into y/n’s bedroom, Larissa could feel her eyes get big. Her bed was full of cute plushies, and there, on the lap of a big brown bear was her Kitty. “Look Rissa, your Kitty wasn’t alone here! No reason to be scared!”. Y/n pulled Larissa closer to the bed. “Look, Bear was cuddling her. And Guardbeary protects all the plushies. And look! So much friends!”. Y/n sounded happy as a child, despite not feeling well. Larissa watched as she climbed under her blankets again. “Here, there’s your Kitty!”, y/n said, after which she grabbed a plushie to hold for herself. Larissa smiled softly and planted a kiss on Kitty’s head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wont ever lose you again.”. Larissa noticed y/n looking at her. “What?”, she asked her. “Do you sometimes feel little as well?”. Larissa thought about that for a moment. “Yes. Mostly when I’m alone with Kitty in my room. It works well with loneliness and stress…”. Y/n smiled. “it does, doesn’t it! Why do you think I collect plushies?”. Larissa giggled. Y/n was cute like this actually. In the middle of all her plushies. “Should I tuck you in, my sweet y/n? You’re still ill.” “Yes please! But who is going to tuck you in?”. Larissa thought about that for a moment. “Tonight I’m going to manage myself I guess. I got Kitty back as my support!”. Larissa smiled when she saw y/n immediatly grab for a plushy and close her eyes when she was fully tucked in. “Goodnight, Y/n.” “goodnight, Rissa. Don’t forget your Kitty.”. Larissa stood up and walked through the door. When she opened the door, she heard her name again. “Rissa? Can we have a playdate tomorrow? With our plushies?”. Larissa hugged her Kitty tighter hapily. “I’d love to.”.

[wishbonetea]

as a birthday present to myself and in celebration of getting new content for the first time in YEARS (nora i owe u my life), i'm posting the first sneak peak of Of Smoke & Bone Part II: Of Fear & Fury!

Full sneak peak under the cut.

Read the fic on AO3 here!

Of Smoke & Bone In general, Neil Josten managed to keep his two lives in balance. On the one hand, he was a nineteen year old art student in Prague with a part-time job in a mostly-normal coffee shop. On the other, he, Allison, and Renee worked for an inhuman creature, running errands in exchange for wishes. For the most part, these two lives rarely intersect. But it’s fair to say that the Foxes bring their own brand of trouble, and Neil’s two lives soon start to collide.

The first thing Dan registered when she woke up—the first thing she always registered when she woke up—was Matt’s arm wrapped around her waist and the warmth of his breath against her chest. She blinked fuzzily at the ceiling, trying to rid the awful taste in her mouth with her tongue. Despite the warmth of Matt’s arm and breath, it didn’t quite cancel out the throbbing headache that kept her just out of comfort’s reach.

She missed the days of waking up after a night of drinking without a hangover. She was only twenty-three years old but she already missed the days of her youth. Back then, she could wake up and get back to work no matter what happened the day before. Now, she had to deal with the consequences of her actions, and it sucked. She let her eyes fall closed again and it didn’t take her long to drift back into dreams.

When she woke again, it was to the vibration of her phone on her bedside table. She blinked until her eyes finally focused and tried to reach for it without waking Matt. It didn’t work, and her stomach turned at the movement. When Matt grumbled something incoherent as he rolled onto his side, she made a gentle shushing sound. Dan waited until her nausea subsided before trying to sit up. After grabbing for the phone, she wound her arm back around him to read over his shoulder. Matt’s only response was to tug at her arm until she wound it tighter around him, and he snuggled back against her chest and under the duvet. She pressed a kiss into his hair, and it still smelled like the branded gel he insisted was better than the cheaper alternatives. Matt was born into money, and there were some habits he couldn’t shake even when budgeting as a student.

She struggled to read the notification through her eyelashes since the screen was far too bright for a Sunday morning, yet even when she could read it clearly, it took several moments of fumbling through memories until she processed what the words meant.

@TheKathyFerdinand: Painter Kevin Day talks to us at @RAYLEIGHMAGAZINE about his departure from @EdgarAllanUniversity, finding his feet at @PSUoftheArts, and his first solo exhibition. Read the full interview here.

Of course. The interview.

The interview that was supposed to be Kevin’s re-debut and—what Dan had hoped—PSUA’s big introduction to the world outside of Prague. She knew better than to hope for no slip-ups, but she hadn’t anticipated Neil turning on Riko like that. Riko was the kind of man who’d let his popularity go straight to his head, and the worst part was that until she found out what he had done to Kevin, she had thought he deserved his popularity. Riko’s art was exceptional, so he had the right to be a little arrogant, she’d thought. Until Kevin came to PSUA, she’d even been glad that a man like Riko existed. She’d been thrilled that two men of colour were dominating the art scene in London like Riko and Kevin were. A part of her was still glad. Riko’s behaviour and attitude were unforgivable, but he still served as a good role model to kids that looked like him.

Right up until Dan remembered Wymack telling them about Riko’s connections with the fucking mafia.

She didn’t know what to think of that yet, and her current state of mind wasn’t the best state of mind to think about it for too long. She pushed it from her thoughts and pretended she didn’t know what she knew. It wasn’t going to solve anything in the long run, but it would have to do until she had a chance to talk to Wymack about it in more depth.

Reading Kathy’s article did wonders to refresh her memories of the interview. Dan had known that Kathy would draw attention to Neil’s cutting criticism of Riko and Edgar Allan, but her report made Riko’s icy entitlement look like he spent weekends at soup kitchens and environmentalist protests. Kathy had called Neil a spitfire in person, but the Neil she had written was more like a bomb going off, obliterating anything in its focus.

So all in all, Kathy’s interview hadn’t exactly been kind to Neil, but she had certainly paid attention to what Neil had said.

“Matt,” Dan hissed. “Matt. Wake up.”

“What?” he mumbled.

“Kathy Ferdinand posted her interview with Neil and Kevin.”

“What?”

“Here. Listen. ‘When I asked Riko Moriyama to join me in Prague for Kevin’s first solo show—not only since leaving Edgar Allan, but ever—I thought Kevin would appreciate the surprise. Yet when Riko entered from behind the scenes, so to speak, it seemed that I was the one in for a surprise. You’ll be surprised to know that last night’s exhibition was the first time Riko and Kevin had spoken since Kevin broke his hand in a skiing accident last month (you can find more details in January’s edition, Peonies Fall For Kings, available here). Yet it wasn’t the heartwarming reunion I was expecting. Instigated by Kevin’s new friend and potential collaborative partner, Neil Josten, Kevin soon revealed that he wasn’t intending on returning to Edgar Allan when his hand heals like we all presumed. Even Riko believed that Kevin was only to stay in Prague temporarily. The works on display were all paintings Kevin had made during his time here in London, but he certainly hinted at plans to start afresh. And it doesn’t seem that Riko is holding onto the past either. When questioned about his plans for the Ravens to continue recruiting in Europe, Riko told me that the Ravens hadn’t altered their schedule for Kevin’s injury and had no intention to do so in the future. Riko believes that Kevin has been left behind, but that he’s ready to welcome his brother home when Kevin is recovered once more. It seems that Kevin, however, had discussed his plans for his future with his new friends in Prague. Neil didn’t sound surprised that Riko expected Kevin to return to London, but was confident that Kevin had nothing to return to. Neil’s quick defence of Kevin reminds me of the earlier days of Riko and Kevin’s partnership, back when the media speculated that such a pairing would hold the two young artists back. It makes me wonder whether Kevin has founded a replacement art collective to rival Edgar Allan’s Ravens, and I personally cannot wait to see what comes of it.’”

“Shit,” was all Matt said.

Dan huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Shit.”

Matt rolled over to face her again and buried his face into her neck. “You need to send that to Neil,” he said between planting kisses that tickled her skin. “He’d freak.”

Dan was momentarily distracted by the roughened timber of his voice to process his words. She paused. “Oh my god that’s so funny, freak? Or, Oh my god we’re all gonna die and I’m gonna flee the country, freak?”

“Neil wouldn’t flee the country.”

“Neil would definitely flee the country.”

Matt rolled onto his back and Dan watched as he blinked up at the ceiling and waited for his vision to focus. He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes to speed it along and turned his head to look at her. He looked as awful as she felt. She’d been the one to suggest they go to The Foxhole Court for a few hours, but there was no way the Foxes wouldn’t turn ordering in into a small party. They’d put away most of two bottles of vodka even without Neil and Renee helping them. Dan hadn’t been counting but it looked like Kevin almost had one all to himself. She didn’t blame him, considering what had happened, but it reminded her too much of Matt and Seth’s own addictions for her to feel entirely at ease with it.

“Okay, yeah, he would. But only for a week,” Matt eventually said. “He’d come back.”

“Plus,” she added, tangling her socked feet with his, “we know too much.”

Matt laughed at that. “Yeah. All that blackmail material like how he takes his coffee and what his favourite colour is.”

She prodded his chest. “Hey. That took me six weeks to get out of him.”

Matt pulled her into his side. “I know. It took me seven to get him to admit he liked cats.”

Dan huffed a laugh and raised her phone to her face once again, copying the link from the article and sending it to the Foxes’ group chat. Even though Matt was right next to her, and had already made his opinion known, he still tapped out a reply.

Dan sent a link Mattata: i’m gonna print and frame that Mattata: that belongs on the wall DamnWilds: i think we need a social media channel for us DamnWilds: look at the comments DamnWilds: ever since @im fine roasted riko to shit people wanna know who we r DamnWilds: weve got everyones attention but if we play this right we can keep it DamnWilds: if we film us working and do interviews with the student mag people might root for the underdog Catty Bitch: how can you encourage @im fine to open his mouth in public? he does bad enough 1-1 im fine: I’m not that bad. Catty Bitch: sweetie do you even remember yesterday The Gay Cousin: neil might not remember it but riko sure does Mattata: neil made riko look like a stupid asshole who sells out friends on a daily basis

Matt continued tapping something on his phone even though Dan could see the three typing indicators on the group chat weren’t showing. After a second or two he sat up and shuffled to the end of the bed, reaching over to the bluetooth printer perched on the edge of the desk. After turning it on, and waiting for it to make its usual grumbles of life, Dan heard the typical squeaks of something being printed out. She watched in curiosity until Matt lifted two sheets of A4 paper with a PDF of the article.

“I’m serious,” Matt said. “This is going on the wall.”

He was referring to a stretch of wall in The Foxhole Court’s staff lounge that had been covered in photographs of the team. Some of them were official: photographs of Wymack and Abby with famous people who had somehow stumbled in since the café opened in the nineties, and photographs and snippets of articles clipped from newspapers and local magazines. The majority of the pictures, however, were taken by Dan and Seth. These were scattered everywhere and anywhere they could fit and were held up with blutack and tape. One entire corner was a clump of photos of the Foxes turned into memes.

Dan grinned. She opened her mouth to reply when her own phone started ringing. She expected it to be Allison or Renee but was surprised when Wymack’s contact was displayed. She hit the green answer button and put him on speaker.

“What’s up?” she asked.When Wymack spoke he sounded weary and she felt heavy stones lay to rest in the pit of her stomach. “Get everyone down to Court, would you? We need to talk.”

[changbinisms]

Two Sides of the Same Coin - Choi Jongho x reader

Summary: Jongho had always been an enigma, holding most people at an arm's length, and you even further. What if there's a reason behind that?

wc: 1,797

non-idol au / office worker au

contains: minor angst?, jealousy, confusion over feelings, y/n is in denial, probably out of character Jongho, implications of alcohol, not proof read

[a/n: it's been a long, long time since I've posted a fic, and even longer since I wrote one, so I'm a little rusty. I'm not 100% happy with it but if I went back and reread it I'd probably talk myself out of it, so hopefully someone enjoys this.]

Few people had the pleasure of being in the company of Choi Jongho, and even fewer had the pleasure of having him enjoy the company too.

He always held the same stony-faced expression on his face, unless of course, he was in the company of his friend group. Then he could always be seen with a smile on his face, laughter leaving his plump lips, and his round eyes crinkled in delight.

That’s not to say that he was stuck up or rude, he just felt most comfortable around his friends, rather than the people that he only really saw in passing.

Unfortunately, you seemed to be stuck in some limbo in between. Not a stranger yet not quite a friend. You got on well with the rest of the group, some could say that you were friends. However, Jongho always seemed to hold you at an arm’s length. Which was a shame really since you had been quite enamoured with the man since you had started working at Aurora & Co. Media.

When it came to interacting with you, he always seemed to go quieter and developed a habit of mumbling. Some could say he had a crush on you but who could be sure? You hadn’t had enough interactions with him to know what he was like around people that he’d taken a fancy to, hell, you didn’t even know if he was interested in people at all. 

~~~~

The day seemed to drag in, almost as if it knew that you longed for the comfort of your cosy little flat, and the series that you had halfway binged into the early hours of the morning.

Staring at the clock in hopes of it making time pass faster clearly wasn’t cutting it anymore. Your day was almost done, and you’d ran out of work to do to fill in the gap between the start of your shift and the end of your shift.

Almost like a knight in shining armour, your view of the clock is obscured by Hongjoong’s lithe frame.

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but I can count on you to turn up to the Halloween party, right?” his eyes almost pleading with you “half of the guys can’t give a straight answer on if they’re going, Hwa said he’s not going after the chaos at the last work party, and San and Wooyoung are going to be insufferable on their own,”

“Joong,” you chuckled at his distress, “you know I would never let you suffer through those two on your own,”

He physically relaxed at your answer, before a cheeky smile crept its way onto his face; “good - because Jongho is actually going to this one,”

And there it was… the “some” that could say he had a crush on you. Maybe Hongjoong had more of an insight into Jongho’s thoughts and feelings since he was in his inner circle, but you couldn’t quite work out what he stood to gain from telling you about a crush that may or may not even exist.

You let out a sigh.

“Hongjo-“

“don’t even try to hide that you’re happy about that, y/n” he cut you off, “we can all see the hearteyes you send him,”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, you fiend,” you hiss back, taking another peek at the clock, “oh would you look at that! My shift’s over! Bye!”

You quickly grab your phone, bag, and cardigan, and head to the cloakroom to collect your jacket and escape this conversation.

Unfortunately Hongjoong follows you, seemingly undeterred by your efforts to elude him.

~~~~

Despite your insistence that you were indifferent to the news that Jongho would be there, you found yourself panic-shopping online to find something that would somehow be both attractive and comfortable – there’s no way you can wear the pink, fluffy bunny costume you wore the year before, which was the product of an ill timed, dumb bet that you lost.

If anyone were to asl, you’d just tell them you were trying to rebuild your costume reputation. No one would know that it was actually an attempt to look good in front of Jongho.

Not that you wanted to look good in front of Jongho of course…

~~~~

Before you knew it, the end of October was upon you and you found yourself in the back seat of a taxi, wedged in between a (slightly) giddy San, and a (most definitely) tipsy Wooyoung on your way to the venue that your team leads at Aurora & Co. had booked for the party.

You prayed to whatever deity was out there to speed up the journey as there was only so much elbowing you could take from them (“oh come on! You totally imagine what it’s like to kiss him” “We finally won’t have to witness you both pining over each other anymore”) while Hongjoong sat in the front trying to contain his giggles.

Promise be damned, you were abandoning him at the first chance you get.

~~~~

Finally arriving at the venue, practically shoving San out the way to get out the taxi, you make your way into the venue, taking in the sight before you.

Twinkle lights adorned the high ceilings and gave the room a subtle ambience. True to typical fashion, your eyes immediately find Jongho, who had come dressed as a vampire complete with shirt, waistcoat, suit trousers and a typical gothic cape, with what you would assume to be droplets of fake blood trailing down his chin and almost trailing onto his neck.

Almost has if he could sense that you had arrived, he was already looking at you or, most likely, in your general direction (you did arrive with three out of seven of his friends), his conversation with Yeosang, the (at first) quiet man with a cheeky streak, seemingly forgotten.

The intensity of his stare proved too much for you, quickly averting your eyes with a light blush making its way across your cheeks.

Thankfully, you’re saved by your absolute favourite people to work with: Jeon Soyeon and, her equally devilish partner in crime, Kim Seungmin. Most people would assume that their personalites would clash, what with Soyeon having little time for shit-stirrers and Seungmin being the biggest shit-stirrer in the office, but it came as a surprise when they met and struck up what is possibly the funniest friend duo.

“Well look who decided to show up actually looking decent this Halloween!” Seungmin laughed, smile stretching across his face exposing his pearly whites. Beside him, Soyeon tittered and affectionately rolled her eyes. You wonder just how many times she had heard him say similar things before you arrived.

“Minnie, you know fine well that I rocked that bunny suit,” you fired back “much better than whatever the hell you’re wearing right now”.

~~~~

True to office fashion, the party only took off from there. You had long since lost track of Hongjoong, San and Wooyoung, and more importantly, Jongho. You didn’t need the ribbing that you would get from your friends for so much as glancing anywhere he was stood.

Coming out from the restroom, the drinks that you’d had finally taking a toll on your bladder and took advantage of the large mirrors to touch up your appearance, you turn down the hall to head back to the main room and bump into someone. A someone sporting suit trousers, waistcoat and typically gothic cape…

“Jongho… hey!” you awkwardly state, “glad to see you came, I thought it was just rumours that you were coming,”

He seemed to not know what to reply with as he looked at you, mouth slightly agape. You suppose that’s on brand for him, at least he’s looking you in the eye.

“uhhh… anyway,” you sidestep around him, the awkwardness starting to seep into your bones “I was just on my way back, I’ll see you in there, I guess,”

You go to continue your walk back to the festivities when a hand around your forearm stops you in your tracks.

“wait,” he breathes out before continue, “I wanted to talk to you,”

“sure… what do you want to talk to me about?”

“I-“ he started.

You waited for him to continue but the silence only extended into even more awkward territory, the minutes stretching on and on. Feeling the need to get out of the situation before you started spewing absolute nonsense in an attempt to fill the gap.

You step away from him with a quiet “Soyeon and Seungmin must be wondering where I am, I’ll catch you la-“

Your words are interrupted with a short “what do I need to do to get your attention?” You’re stunned into silence, which Jongho takes advantage of by continuing, “Why does everyone in the office get your attention easily, but you can’t give me a sideways glance? What do I have to do? What do I have to do to get you to like me?”

His short monologue must have caused your brain to short circuit, the words with a hint of jealousy must have flipped some switch in your brain, as you responded with an “is that what you think? You think I don’t like you? If anything, I thought you didn’t like me, you very rarely actually look at me never mind talk to me,”

Jongho seemed perplexed at your words before letting out a “because I can’t. I can’t look at you without getting my words and thoughts all mixed up. I thought if I had a drink or two, I might have been able to work up the courage to talk to you and I messed that up,”

You didn’t know what to say, would anyone know what to say in this situation if they were put on the stop this way? You couldn’t organise your thoughts, your brain processing both nothing and everything at the same time.

So, you did the only thing you could make out in the chaos of your brain. You stepped closer to him and placed your hands lightly on his shoulders and closed the gap.

Your lips pressing to his, relishing in his soft ones. He didn’t respond, his posture stiff causing you to regret your actions. Maybe you misinterpreted what he said, maybe he was wanting closure and nothing else.

Your thoughts finally got the better of you and you start to pulling away, ready to gush excuses and find the nearest exit so you could make your escape and think out how you’re going to get out of this one on Monday, when his body starts to catch up with his brain, and he does something you didn’t think he would.

He kisses you back.

~*~*~*~

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Apparently, I felt like Crosshair didn’t get quite enough whump in that first one… So sorry my beloved… Continuation to Muzzled.

Febuwhump Day 3 Ch 2

Muzzled – Crosshair

Warnings: This one's gone some proper medical procedures - gore/blood/injections. Adult language. Good bit of guilt and angst.

WC: 4,079

We were aboard The Dominator for mere minutes, just long enough to drop Rex and his men off before being ushered to the far side of the galaxy. I’d have argued – insisted on a few days med-leave for Crosshair’s jaw to heal, but we’d be traveling for nearly a week. Not accounting for some unforeseen complication, that would be ample time for the bacta to help knit the fracture closed.

Halfway through that first day of our journey, I noticed the extra meal bar in the small kitchenette. After learning of how they’d starved from insufficient rations for most of their lives, I’d begun tracking inventory more closely, both to record how much food Wrecker actually needed as well as ensure no one fell back into the habit of rationing their meals for fear of not having enough. At least to that point, there’d seemed no cause to worry over the latter, but it didn’t take much thought to understand who’d skipped their morning meal and why.

I found Crosshair dozing in one of the crash seats in the cabin. Echo and Wrecker chatted quietly nearby while the taller man used the overhead racks as pull-up bars, speech intimidatingly even despite the tempo of his movement. Treading lightly across the room, I nestled into the seat beside the resting sniper and lightly tapped my knee against his to wake him.

“Hey, I want you to drink this.” I said quietly, undeterred by how quickly his lips pulled into a frown as he turned to face me.

“No.” The simple brusqueness of his response drew a soft chuckle from me before, with a pointedly deep breath, preparing for the coming fight.

“Cross, you skipped breakfast. You can’t do that while using bacta.” His frown deepened into an unimpressed glare. “Would you rather I shove a tube down your nose to force-feed you?” I asked blankly and had to fight to ignore the stifled snickers behind us. Crosshair held my gaze a moment longer, debating how far he wanted to push me.

“What is it?” It wasn’t cooperation, but it was a start as his eyes dropped down to study the cup.

“It’s a meal replacement shake – all the calories and nutrients of a ration bar without needing to chew.” I couldn’t help the quiet laugh that bubbled past my lips at his skeptical grimace. “Don’t worry – it’s not GAR-regulation chalk flavored. I keep a few different ones on hand – let me know if you don’t care for how this one tastes.” I shifted forward in a gentle offer, smile growing as he reluctantly took it.

“Oooh, can I try one?” Wrecker asked eagerly, abandoning his workout to trot toward us, and I immediately shot him a toothy grin.

“Of course, big guy.” I answered warmly, pushing myself back to my feet. “Why don’t you come choose which one you’d like?” The brilliance of his joy was a thing I’d never weary of, unabashed glee lightening his movements as he eagerly agreed. “How about you, Echo? They’re really gentle on the stomach.” I added at that first whisper of doubt on his face.

“Sure.” He sighed with a shrug. Stealing a final glance to see Crosshair still merely studying the cup, I reached out to let my hand just brush softly over his shoulder before starting back toward the kitchenette.

He didn’t fight me when I presented him with another one that night, thoughtlessly bringing the straw up to his lips after I’d handed it to him. I tried not to show the pleased smirk. It was such a simple, little thing, but just knowing I’d managed to offer even that tiny bit of comfort made my heart dance.

“The other one was better.” He muttered before walking out, ripping a bark of laughter from me.

-

My attention kept wandering to that tall grump, mind churning over the certainty that I was overlooking something. He’d been more quiet than normal, but given the trauma of being tortured, that was hardly unexpected. It wasn’t until he leaned absently against a wall, body instantly flinching for barely a fraction of a second before shifting to stand upright that it clicked.

“Hey… Crosshair…” I called hesitantly, unbothered by the way his frown deepened, tongue shifting a toothpick across his lips as he stared me down. “Are you still having pain in your back?” Caught. That tiny flicker of tension that flashed over him told me everything. “What’s wrong? Did I not give you enough bacta?” I pressed, stepping closer to him. His arms folded across his chest stubbornly, and I didn’t try to silence the loud sigh. “Would you just show me?” I asked, words fleeing on an exasperated breath, but he didn’t move.

“You’re going to make me say it?” His cold expression remained pointedly unfazed. “You really just want to hear me say it, don’t you?” Still nothing. Movements overly exaggerated, I clasped my hands together, head tilting in a flirtatious sway, “Oh, Crosshair, it would mean so much to me if you would please take your kriffing shirt off so I can make sure whatever’s wrong with back doesn’t cause lasting tissue damage.” The sickly-sweet tone carried through each word, bringing an initial flash of confusion to his face before it fell back into that familiar snarl for the split second it took the sharp pain to shoot through his jaw and force him back into a violent glare. Brows raised expectantly, I waited mere seconds before motioning my hands impatiently toward him.

The begrudging movement of his limbs was more than enough to send tendrils of worry through my chest. He was letting me help. With so little argument, he was submitting to my request. Something was wrong. My worry overrode the whisper of appreciation I couldn’t help but feel at the reveal of that muscular torso, abs dancing beneath caramel skin in a display of raw power that I’d never get used to as he slipped the skin-tight suit over his head.

Without waiting for him to turn, I immediately moved to see his back, and that worry turned to ice in my veins. Several dark bruises still covered that gorgeous skin, but the one that I couldn’t rip my eyes away from lay just between the top ridges of his shoulder blades, skin stretched taut over a massive ball of nearly black swelling. I could see a starkly defined line of healed and unhealed damage, and I didn’t need to ask.

“Your shoulders,” I sighed, heart rending beneath the realization I should have made days ago. “They were hurt from how you’d been restrained… you couldn’t reach your back until they healed.” He purposefully avoided even glancing at the desperate regret tearing through my eyes, shifting to stare blindly through the far wall. Drawing a carefully slowed breath, I dragged my hand over my face, fingers clawing into my hair in a frenzy of guilt and frustration. If he’d just said something, anything, given me some tiny hint, he’d be almost free of pain, but now, the dark mass lying dangerous near his spine was an very real concern.

“Listen, I really need you to be honest with me right now.” I prompted, voice abandoning any teasing lilt or sarcastic drawl. His frown deepened, hesitating at the shift in my tone, but then he moved just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes finding mine with that unsettling stillness. “Are you having any numbness or tingling in your fingers? Or have you noticed any limited mobility?” He watched me for a long moment, and I could see how carefully he thought over my question before his head dipped in a small nod. My chest sank, body deflating in a slow, tense sigh.

“Okay.” Maker, he wasn’t going to like this. My hand reached for the painful ball of swollen tissue, pausing barely an inch away as I gathered my thoughts. “Crosshair, I need to drain this. And I need to do it now.” His expression didn’t change, but I saw how the air stilled in his lungs. “I can numb it – like I did your jaw, but the longer we wait, the more likely that nerve damage becomes permanent.” The resignation that slowly settled over him was a thing I hoped never to see again, and I hated myself for the relief I felt as he nodded once more.

“Come on.” I breathed, hand automatically slipping around his arm in an instinctive need to offer some measure of reassurance. I nearly pulled back the instant I realized what I’d done, but he didn’t shy away from my touch. I didn’t know how to feel about that. Was he in so much pain that he didn’t notice? Had he decided the annoyance of my absent caresses weren’t worth fighting? Or was he so distraught over the possible disability, that even he found himself needing that tiny measure of comfort?

“Lay down on your side. Do you want me to explain what I’m going to do?” There was a gentle quiet in the hum of my voice.

“No. Just do it.” He said blankly, movements stiff as he forced himself onto the cot I usually called mine. I wasted no time in gathering my supplies, careful not to let him see. He didn’t want to know what I needed to do, and I was too eager not to tell him, not to grant him any indication of the coming hurt beyond the numbing medication. After slipping a drip cloth beneath him, I took a final breath.

“Quick burn.” I warned but didn’t wait for him to tense before resting the injector against the center of that mass. The muscles curled along his spine, back threatening to arch as he let out a nearly growled exhale, and my heart ached for him. The last whisper of that strained breath faded into a quick huff, tension fleeing him in a rush.

“Alright, a lot of pressure, then a big release.” Again, I didn’t wait before slipping the blade through skin and muscle. His breath hitched, arms wrenching back, and I had to quickly lock my hand around his shoulder to keep him still enough to slip the drainage tube in. I quickly set a catch beneath the incision as the pooled blood and fluids poured from wound and tube alike, and he let out a huff of relief through still clenched teeth.

“The kriff was the damn shot even for?!” He snarled, and I wanted to sob at the tremor in his voice.

“I know – I know; I’m sorry, but it would have been a lot worse without it.” I murmured, thumb absently sweeping over suddenly chilled skin. “The hard part’s over, though.” I offered gently, and his head fell heavily to the thin pillow, eyes clenched as his torso rocked with too-quick breaths. “I want you to try to keep still.” I instructed, reaching out to drag my blanket over his lightly shaking form. “We need to leave that in for a while – make sure it doesn’t swell back up again.” He shifted only slightly before abandoning the attempt.

“Leave… what in?” He demanded despite the weakness trying to drag his voice into a hoarse whisper. “What did you do?” Those words wanted to be a snarl, but the heaviness of his breaths robbed them of any force.

“I had to place a drainage tube. I’m going to secure it so it doesn’t fall out, and then I want you to try to rest.” The way he rolled his eyes granted me some measure of relief – that, at least, had lost none of its strength. Movements meticulous to avoid even the slightest jostle around that painful injury, I applied a few strips of adhesive, pleased to see the flow of liquid slow to only an occasional drip.

“I can give you something to help you sleep.” I offered quietly, hand returning to rest gently atop his shoulder. He answered with that signature glare. “Okay, how about some water? Either say yes, or I’m sticking an IV in you.” I threatened, and I knew how eager he was to twist that aching jaw into a scowl.

“Fine.” He relented, gaze returning to some distant point well beyond the Marauder’s walls.

“Okay. I’ll be right back – no moving.” I added before starting toward the door.

Hunter said nothing as he caught my eyes the instant I was in the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, jaw taut with concern; waiting, and that guilt struck me anew, tears balling in my throat.

“I’ll know more tomorrow.” I told him, “I should have noticed sooner-I… Maker, I’m so sorry.” I hated the way my voice broke, hated the tears that slipped down my cheeks.

“There’s not much you can do when he gets it in his head that things should go a certain way.” He sighed, and I could hear an exhaustion in his voice that spoke of a lifetime of trying to save his brother from himself in far too similar situations. “It’s not your fault, Doc.” His shoulders sank as he stepped toward me, arms falling heavily to his sides before bringing a warm hand to my shoulder. Teeth grinding behind tight lips, I shook my head.

“Of course, it’s my fault.” I nearly growled, “I saw what kind of state he was in when we found him. I knew there was still something wrong. I…” Letting out a breath that threatened to cave into a sob, I forced myself to focus. I still had a job to do. “I need to get him some water.” Without meeting Hunter’s eyes, I pushed passed him to the supply room.

“Why don’t you take a minute? I’ll stay with him.” I was shaking my head before he’d finished speaking.

“I need to monitor that drain tonight – make sure he doesn’t jostle it in his sleep.” Without waiting for him to find some other excuse or futile attempt to lessen my strife, I quickly tread around him to return to the medbay. Crosshair hadn’t moved, but I was please to see his breathing had calmed.

“Is it any better?” I barely whispered the words as I tread lightly to the front of the cot.

“Great.” The rumbled word snapped from still tight lips, but I was certain ridding him of that massive buildup of fluid had to grant some reprieve.

Crouching down slightly, I brought the straw to his mouth, with a quiet, “here,” but he immediately pulled back in disgust, arm tensing to take it himself. I quickly reached out to stop him, hand clasping firmly around his forearm.

“Don’t.” I kept my voice soft, but left no room for argument as I met the obstinate look in his eyes. “I don’t want you do to anything that’s even going to tense your shoulders right now.” Again, I watched that moment of debate war within him, but, when his eyes darted away from mine beneath that wretched flush of shame, he reluctantly shifted just enough to catch the straw between his lips. I said nothing as he drank, gaze carefully lowered to avoid even accidentally glancing at him, nor did I breathe a word of rebuttal at the amount of water still in the pouch when he pulled away.

“Are you alright with me replacing that patch,” I asked, motioning toward jaw, “and getting some bacta on the rest of your back?” I didn’t have to grant him that choice – I could have merely told him I was doing it, and he would have had no valid grounds to refuse me, but I knew he needed it – needed some whisper of autonomy to sooth how violently I’d stripped it from him already. So, I waited patiently until he gave the faintest shift of a nod. He didn’t look at me as I reached for the day-old bacta-patch, but he tilted his neck slightly for me to reach the edge easier, and I didn’t realize how much I’d needed even that tiny show of acceptance until feeling the stiffness lock around my throat.

The quiet that settled around us was a kind one. I let myself melt into it as I carefully tended his jaw before turning my attention to treating each blotch of abused skin covering his back, and I wondered if he was able to find some solace in it, too.

“I’ll check on it a couple times tonight – make sure it doesn’t shift, but I really want you to try to sleep.” My voice whispered softly into that quiet, and I watched him pointedly close his eyes without so much as looking toward me. Moving lightly, I tread to the nearby wall panel and, with a thoughtless tap, plunged the room into near darkness.

-

I spent the night curled atop a chair, legs tucked against me with my ankles crossed over the armrest, aimlessly browsing my datapad with little interest for anything beyond some distraction to keep me awake. Nearly every hour, I crept to the bed, lifting the blanket just enough to confirm everything was still in place before returning to my perch, pleased that he seemed to sleep through my inspections.

Finally, I heard the others begin to move about the ship. Crosshair was still asleep, and I let myself take full advantage as I returned to his bedside once more. Praying the earlier dose would only just be starting to wear off, I touched another injector to the skin just beside the tube, flooding the tissue with a fresh bout of the numbing agent. His shoulders tensed, but only slightly, a soft grunt catching in his throat as the sensation roused him from the light sleep.

“Sorry,” I murmured, “I was hoping it was still numb enough to dull that.” He glanced wearily back at me before letting his head rock drowsily back to the pillow.

“It’s fine.” The absent dismissal rumbled in that subtle slur of near-sleep, and I felt my lips pull into the first earnest smile I’d managed since seeing that bruising.

“Good,” I sighed, “I’m going to check for residual swelling first, but then that tube should be fine to come out – I promise: they come out much easier than they go in.” I added at the way he tensed. He left out an impatient grunt but offered no further response.

The mass was barely noticeable now beyond a lingering discoloration, tissue carrying only a fraction of that excess fluid. With gentle, sweeping palpations, I guided a bit more of that swelling toward the incision. He barely noticed; sensation almost completely dulled from the injection even as I began easing the adhesive strips away from his skin. I granted him no warning before slipping the tube free, knowing the anticipation would be far worse, and he barely flinched.

“All done.” I said with a gentle smile after easing a bacta-patch over the cut. He started to glance back, surprise just twitching over his face before catching himself. Hesitantly, his arm tensed, as though waiting to see if I’d try to stop him, but, reassured by my silence, he pressed his hand against the mattress and pushed himself up, legs swinging over the edge. I watched the tentative roll of his shoulders precede a more confident series of shifting muscles to further test the motion.

“Okay, give me your hand.” I said after granting him a moment. He looked at me with narrowed eyes but held his hand toward me without further complaint. I slowly worked over each long digit with gentle squeezes between my thumb and forefinger. “Any numbness or tingling?” He shook his head, idly watching me as I continued meticulously over his palm, careful not to miss a single inch of flesh before moving to his other hand, and the relief starting to bubble through me was palpable.

“Perfect. Now, try to match my movements.” I continued, hand raising to illustrate touching each fingertip to my thumb, but he showed no intent to follow me. Gaze shifting to his, I readily let my expression fall into the same deadpan glare he sent me. “Fingers. Moving. Now.” I ordered. He let out a loud scoff, attention shifting past me, but, albeit reluctantly, matched my motions without difficulty.

In a flood of relief, my head sank in into my hands with a loud, shuttered exhale, fingers dragging thoughtlessly though my hair as that massive weight finally began to slip away. Body slowly straightening with a deep breath, I looked up to find him watching me, expression carefully blank.

“Crosshair, I really,” Hands falling wearily into the scant distance between us, I struggled for a moment to convince my lips to work, to steady my breath long enough to remember how to speak, “Really need you to understand this: I am here for one reason. That’s it. I’m not here to judge you or report you or belittle you for getting hurt. I’m here… to help you.” His lips tightened into a thin line, but he offered no further response, pulling an exasperated huff from me, but I tried to let it go, focus shifting back to what did matter to him.

“I want to look at your back again tonight, but it should heal up fine now.” I could hear the exhaustion clear in my own voice as I stepped back for him to push himself off the cot.

“Great. Wouldn’t want our effectiveness falling on your watch.”

It would have been less painful if he’d struck me. Breath caught in my throat, I was so taken aback by the venom in those words that I could only stare at him, eyes wide, lips slightly ajar. Part of me saw the flash of regret that instantly stole over him, but I couldn’t focus on that. I thought I was used to his crass remarks. I didn’t expect one to hurt like that. Without a word, I quickly turned and walked away, gaze dropping pointedly to the metallic paneling beneath me.

I don’t know why I went to the storage room, but once there I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Not yet. My hands shook slightly as I aimlessly organized even the slightest disarray of gear, mindlessly grabbing a few packages of shakes to restock what I’d used the previous day. When the door hissed open behind me, I didn’t turn toward them; didn’t want whoever it was to see the still raw hurt in my eyes because, if they did, if they offered even a fleeting look of understanding or sympathy or apology, I knew I’d break, and I wasn’t ready for that.

After several seconds passed without them saying anything, however, curiosity finally drew my gaze back just enough to glimpse them. Crosshair. His arms were locked tightly across his chest, body leaning stiffly against the wall as a sharp glare burned into the shelving beside him. He was waiting, and my heart broke the instant I understood why. He couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize, so he forced himself, instead, to allow me whatever retribution I wanted. Letting out a shaky breath, I set the prepackaged shake mix back down and walked lightly toward him, loathing the way his brows drew even further together.

“You have never… never been just a number to me.” I didn’t shy from the desperation in my voice begging him to believe me, and, as the tension abandoned him beneath something just threatening to become remorse, I felt my chest sink with a sharp sigh.

“I know.” He still wouldn’t look at me as the quiet words breathed over his lips, eyes falling to the flooring beneath us, and hearing him say that was worth every ounce of hurt his harsh words had caused. I didn’t fight the few tears that trailed down my cheeks despite how they seemed to make the normally detached man before me squirm, fingers shifting uncomfortably about his arms as he quickly turned his gaze further away.

Without a word, I leaned forward, pressing my forehead gently to his shoulder, and he went so perfectly still even the air caught in his throat. He didn’t move either to push me away or draw me closer, merely stood there as I stole that quiet moment with him; felt the tension slowly fade from his taut frame.

Chest swelling with a deep inhale, I finally stepped back, grabbed the handful of supplies I’d gathered, and left.

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[wanderingpages]

.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I lean back to check it, only to see Madoc's text of the day. He's starting early, I note idly, glancing at the time. It’s near four in the morning. I clear the notification and slide the phone back into my pocket. I’m sure if I ignore him long enough, he’ll show his ugly mug soon, so that I can gladly stick a fork in his hand.

“Lollipop?” I glance up to Jude, her head is lolled against the chair, asking about the notification. When she yawns, she doesn’t try to hide it like she’d done before in the past few hours. She even lets out a groan and sigh, twitching her nose from side to side, like a witch from a 60’s sitcom I’ve seen before. The nostalgia makes my chest hurt. I lean my head against the wall, watching her watch me, both of us a sad mirror of each other; droopy eyes, hair askew, scratches and marks and someone else’ blood dried on us. Probably still high from whatever Ghost laced in his weed. She smiles weakly and I wonder what she’s thinking. I wonder if she knows what I'm thinking. Despite her not only recalling Lolli’s name, but mentioning my ex sometime before, I still find myself thinking about my head between her thighs.

“Yeah,” I lie. “Want to see? She’s got bright blue hair and these pretty piercings I think you’d do well to reference on your next trip here,” if I’m sardonic, I’m too tired to care as I gesture lazily to the parlor. “I’m an exceptional piercer,” I grin. Jude keeps her eye contact with me, but flexes her jaw and shivers all the same.

“Liar,” she whispers, “you’re a very bad liar.” I think it’s rich coming from her, but she’s right. I don’t usually lie, I’m just usually good at skirting around the truth. Still, I find myself at a loss of words to come up with when she’s around. “It wasn’t her.”

I shrug, “they all blur together sometimes,” and that is quite the truth, but I can only give Jude half of it. “And yet…” I glance upward, behind her, where the wall splinters around the bullet embedded there. I rub at my thumb, partially inked and wounded, liking the ache that keeps me aware that I’m still alive. “There’s just something about Lolli,” my smile feels as sleazy as I sound. “She’s most definitely earned her name.” When I look back to Jude, I try to ignore the wounded look she gives me. Tied to a chair with a bullet wound in her arm, but it’s what I say about an earlier hookup that reminds her she should be very wary of me. “Tasted just as sweet.”

“Fuck you,” she tells me, straightening her head against the chair. She looks up at the light. “You’re so full of shit,” she mumbles boldly. “Wrong shade of brown,” she recalls, tone mocking brave for the position she’s in. “Why do you tell me these things?”

Instead of reminding her that she’s the one who’s brought it up, I tell her, “I should have taken you to Dain yesterday. I think that would have been the best choice to have you around people. I don’t think I’m supposed to torture you, if I’m honest. But I’ve been kind of itching to.”

She might have caught the grin I’m sporting, the most genuine one of the night, because she says, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“You’re the crazy one,” I remind her as I walk past the chair, so annoyed at the bullet hole, that I take a framed painting and switch it over to cover up the impurity.

“And trust me,” I turn to the chair, lean on it while my hand finds the lever underneath. She looks up at me startled, and lets out a yelp when the chair goes back. She’s laying down beneath me, not unsimilar to the night we met. “You’d know when I’m fucking you.”  Her cheeks get warm, but her mind is elsewhere. I wonder if she’s thinking she should have kept her distance the night of the party. She should be aware by now, though, being tied up beneath me is just where she’d end up anyways. There are no stars in here to steal her attention this time, just me. She’s still pretty to me, but has her perception of me changed yet? “You should probably go to sleep,” I whisper. “You have an Econ test, don’t you?”

She blinks and I lift up, heading for the lights. “You… you messed up the aesthetic,” she points out, twisting her head slightly, noting the lack of symmetry in the array of photos on the wall now. “You’re letting me go to classes tomorrow?” she questions as an afterthought. “By myself?”

“Do you want to join a cult instead?” I’m mostly serious. She blinks, confused, right before I flick the lights off. Her Bambi eyes are starting to unnerve me again. Still, I feel her gaze in the darkness and it unnerves me just how fast her eyes not only have adjusted, but how intensely she’s staring at me. It’s all these subtle things that grow into something bigger. Her instincts are trained to adapt and maybe even kill if she can really help it.

“I thought I jumped through conversations half in my head,” she mumbles, quietly. Its like the darkness has blanketed us in secrecy. “Are you in a cult? Is this why you’re called King? What are you? The Priest?”

“Father this, Father that? I think I much prefer ‘Daddy’ then, no?” she lets out a noise, something like a gasp and a squeak. “Maybe that would make you my virgin sacrifice, right?” I’m teasing because I don’t really want to get into why Mayor Eldred was actually funding Church of Mab, a front for a cult pushing heroin, nor do I want to then explain why I have any rights to that signet on any document. In truth, Ghost could type some shit up that would exempt her from classes, and would cover some bases in regards to her suddenly not showing up. Its far more common, especially in Elfhame’s College Town, than anyone really suspects, but professors and school boards keep tight lips over it. Mayor Eldred also funds the university – or his estate does, at least. The elite, tenured professors are more than aware, possibly even part of the cult in question. No one would bat an eye at a young college student suddenly dropping out to find God and start an MLM scheme on heroin disguised as the body and blood of The Great Mab herself.

“How would that work,” Jude pulls me from thoughts, “If I’m not a virgin?”

I grin, despite myself, and we go back to square one, staring at each other.

Neither of us get sleep, and maybe that’s a good thing, seeing as not an hour later, Valerian is coming through the door, turning on the lights. We blink to adjust to the brightness, but Valerian’s ensemble of white on white on white doesn’t help. He looks like the Cult Leader’s Doctor. Even Jude winces when he sets a bag on the counter and pulls out medical tools. He’s quiet, as per usual, reeking of coffee so strong it makes my stomach churn. I’m absolutely starving and all I have is diet coke in the minifridge and melted ice cream that’s been out since yesterday, marinating in Ghost and Jude’s hotboxing.

He cuts Jude from her restraints then cleans and wraps the fresh wounds on her wrists before checking the stitches he’d given her yesterday. I check my messages, finding one from Dain that lets me know Jude’s mansion is all pristine.

Yesterday, when I had left, I ended up in Dain’s bar. Not something he’s built from the ground up, but something he just happens to own 51% of, much to the actual owner’s chagrin. He brings in customers, shady as they are, but she gets revenue and Dain has yet another place to hide from his wife. He’s not too happy with my using his tattoo shop as a pseudo torture dungeon again, but he’s a little amused at the run down I’d given him – in which my boss has me babysitting someone on the top of a hitlist he failed to mention. Not just babysitting, but befriending as well.

“This kind of sounds like Gen’s play at matchmaking. I mean, it’s a bit poetic if I think about it hard enough.” Dain pointed this out when I explained the bit about getting to know her as organically as possible. “That being said, I’m against Stockholm Syndrome.” His words either coincide or completely deviates from the text I had gotten from Madoc then. “please make sure she trusts you.” I had left him on read but duly noted Madoc’s use of the word ‘please.’ “Anyways,” Dain said just as Lollipop came to introduce herself. “It sounds like a bodyguard job, not a dungeon master one.” Looking at Madoc’s text now, I’m starting to wonder what game he's playing at.

“What’s in that,” Jude asks and when I look up from my phone, Valerian is gently rubbing a cream on to her skin.

“Bunch of good stuff, mixed with more good stuff,” he answers her, voice sounding hoarser than usual. I’m guessing it’s a low dosage of fentanyl and some powdered ibuprofen he stole from his night job as the resident mortician or something at that hospital.

“Right,” Jude tells him. “Of course. How could I have not known?” her wit is dry this morning. He ignores her and helps her up.

Valerian then reaches into his big bag of everything and pulls out another bag, clothes and a pair of sneakers that I hope to Mab he didn’t steal from one of his bodies being refrigerated. “It’s clean,” he tells her and I grimace, wondering why the hell I’m thinking about Mab so much today.

Jude looks to me and I shrug, telling her, “He is the cleanest person I know.”

“Ghost got it from your house,” he further explains and lets go of her hands. She sways a little, most definitely resembling Bambi now. When she loses her center of balance, trying to test out the kinks in her arms, my hands are on her waists instinctively. I like that her breath catches and she doesn’t scramble away from me like I’m betting her instincts are telling her to.  

“5 seconds,” she whispers as I set her straight. I give her a questioning look and she explains, dazed, “I was somewhere else.” I start to wonder if Valerian actually had more then fentanyl in his concoction and if its already made its way through her blood stream.

“Where were you, then?”

I don’t expect her to answer, “On the bed in my room.” Her skin ignites; I'm guessing she hadn’t really expected to respond.

“Is that where you want me, princess?” She purses her lips and turns brusquely, following Valerian who had been waiting by the door that leads into the house.

He opens the door for us and if she’s asking why there’s a giant portrait of the late mayor on the wall, I gently guide her to the half bathroom and disregard the question.

I turn to find Valerian a few feet behind me, sanitizing his hand and spraying some disinfectant on his bag. “How’s Balekin doing?”

“Better,” he says solemnly. “I will pray for his speedy demise.” He’s absolutely serious about that too. “Do you want me to switch his IV bag?” I shake my head, but he knows the thought has crossed my mind. We’re just in sync like that. He hands me a small bag of travel sized toiletries and a small phone I'm guessing Ghost had fixed up for her. Valerian leaves through the back door and I pass the bag over to Jude when the bathroom door opens. She looks at me panicked, glances at the bag confused, grabs it and shuts the door before opening it again five minutes later.

“What?” I ask her.

“I can’t remember anything,” her furrowed brows and trembling lips make me uncomfortable. “I don’t remember what the midterm is going to be about!”

.

I don’t know why I did it – why I decided it would be a good idea to not only escort her to class, but sit right beside her in the crowded lecture hall. I must be a glutton for punishment. I angrily fill out the sheet that had been handed to me, cosplaying as someone who knows Econ so well, I didn’t even have to study. When I glance over to her, she winces as she moves her arm. Go figure, it’s her dominant hand that was wounded. I make a note to tell Valerian to mix some stronger concoction, maybe with morphine instead. When she rubs at her wrist, I gather it’s a habit she’s just initialized, an anxiety induced action when she doesn’t know the answer to her exam questions.

I look over at the students around me and I want to bang my head against the fucking wall. There’s a reason I dropped out of school. Asha couldn’t be bothered to care if I even had a pencil to my name, and then I couldn’t be bothered to worry about school work and trying to survive that drug den at the same time. Asha was good for keeping up a façade, because it made no sense that she’d ever have credentials for fostering if she wasn’t smart enough to play the system. From shitty foster home to shitty foster home, Asha’s was by far the worst of it. I hadn’t been the only kid in the house, but I never saw anyone more than a few months. For some reason, Asha kept me much longer than the rest. I didn’t know who’s punishment was worse, at the time.

When Asha was cracked out, she was often kind to me, in a desperate sort of way. It was when she was sober that I’d suffer the brunt of her emotions, whether it was a slap to the face, a cigarette to my skin or a minute alone in the room with her husband, I thought, it would get better if I held out, if she had her needle filled with special liquid, she’d love me and save me. I used to pray every night she’d get another delivery of heroine until the cost of it started to become…me. One day, when I realized nothing in the weathered bible I kept under my bed would ever save me, I left all the gas burners running and got the fuck out. To my dismay, only my foster dad and his fuck buddy of the day had died. Asha managed to get away from the fire, and it turned out that foster Daddy had one hell of a life insurance plan.

Before Asha could even be investigated properly about the suspicious death, she fucked her lawyer right past a get out of jail free card and straight into unholy matrimony. Maybe a blessing, had they found something that she could have spun to blame on me and get me sent to Juvie. Still, that left me homeless at 14 and with a complex so severe, it was no wonder when Madoc showed up in my life, I clung to him.

I hadn’t spent half my life learning Geometry and Hamlet, but I picked up a few tips on chemical compounds and set Asha’s fancy new house on fire years later when I’d reunite with Mommy dearest. I made sure she knew who was slitting her throat that night. I wanted her looking into my eyes, begging me for mercy. “I am the monster you created.” I couldn’t find God, so I became one, and I took her life like it was my right.

My jaw clenches so tight that my teeth ache. The pencil in my hand snaps and Jude looks over at me like I'm being a nuisance. and I stare back, daring her to say something in the way too quiet room filled with seventy more students cheating on this stupid test.  She breaks first and I go over the sheet I was handed. I let out a sigh when I realize I now all the answers to these bullshit theoreticals. I fill out the Scantron with a heavy hand, annoyed that I retained information from the few times Eldred actually spoke to me. Or, spoke near me.

When her professor calls time, I switch our papers, dropping Jude’s exam into her open bag and passing mine forward instead. Her eyes are wide but before she can comment, I grab her bag and her hand, pulling her to the exit, shoving past people already complaining about questions.

“What the fuck?” She asks and I tug her closer to my side, bringing my arm around her shoulder. To keep her from running off. “You can’t just do that, Cardan!”

I look down at her, “Why not?”

“It’s cheating!” I almost laugh at her. It’s cheating. She’s got a hit out on her and her babysitter is the fucking Grim Reaper on a good day. But, yeah, she’s worried about cheating.

“You were the only one pulling answers out of your ass, baby girl.” She blinks up at me and I roll my eyes, “Everyone had their phones out.”

Her cheeks tint and her nose scrunches like the little witch she is, and like the unbelievably weak person that I am, I’m entranced. She wants to argue but finally she settles on, “How do you even know about economic growth and the business cycle?”

I find that I don’t want to tell her, don’t want her to know how wacked my entire history is, but I want to give her something she can ponder on, something she’d no doubt use to figure out me out soon enough. “Do you know why they call me King?”

“Not at all – it’s not like I’ve been asking since you kidnapped me yesterday and held me hostage until the ass crack of dawn,” she mutters. I squeeze her shoulder in warning. She’s mouthy, but too ballsy for her own good.

“It’s because of who my dad is.”

“If that’s how it works,” she snorts, “I’d be a queen with who my dad is.”

“Or a saint,” I throw out, guessing at missing puzzles pieces. She won’t say it, maybe she thinks I already know, but it’s all I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. I’m nearly certain I know who her dad is now. A cross references with only a handful of people with the last name Duarte, and the only two people funding a certain summer camp, I’m starting to realize just how much shit Madoc has gotten me into. If my dad had been funding The Church, her dad was the head of it.

She changes the subject, doesn’t want to acknowledge the jab, and says, “Wouldn’t that make you a prince then?”

I grin, grimly, leading her just off campus to the coffee shop her friends had texted her about earlier. Through the immense amounts of notification in their group chat, I gathered they’re excited her phone’s back on and were super worried about her health but apparently had no idea where she even lived. “Dad’s dead. Or at least on paper he is.”

“What does that even mean?” I shrug and let her marinate in that for herself. She yawns deeply for the umpteenth time, and I probably should have spent more time persuading her to sleep instead of having a staring contest with her all night. If I wasn’t thinking about ways I could possibly kill her when Madoc tells me to, I was definitely starting to think about her with less and less clothes on. Thoughts of my tryst with Tootsie Roll started to resemble Jude taking up her space.

“You ever think about dying your hair blue?”

“No. Too discernible, King.” She says this like it’s obvious, and no shit it is. Under the surface at least, but her comment lets me know she’s aware of a lot more going on than I do. But, I figure, she’s already under a lot of people’s radars anyways, what’s stopping her now? “You picturing me as Candy, again?” I can’t help the grin that escapes me as I hold the door open for her.

“That depends. Are you offering a taste?”

She elbows me as I walk behind her, then winces at the sudden shift in her arm and I smirk, placing my palm against the wound. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t shove me off. I know the pressure is helping some and she doesn’t want to accept that, so she ignores me, spotting her friends. As Jude had said, they’ve got their own issues stemming from absentee dads or whatever so they haven’t really noticed the strangeness of Jude’s sudden no-contact.

They wave her over and their smiles turn Cheshire when they spot me behind her, not at all releasing my hold. “Jude!” Liliver exclaims, “Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing a friend?”

“He just followed me here,” Jude deadpans, earning a soft giggle from her. Nicasia, on the other hand, eyes me up and down, eyebrows furrowing as she tries to place me. Recognition slowly dawns on her, but she’s still confused. I smile at Nicasia, daring her to say something, to tell Jude what I already told her anyway. How could she possibly know who I am without explaining herself?

“I’m Cardan,” I tell them, wondering too late, if I should have lied about that.

Liliver gasps, eyes going wide, “You were at the frat party! I didn’t know you two hit it off like that,” she looks at Jude, accusingly.

“He took me home. He’s been lurking ever since.” She reaches and gently pats my chest, looking up at me like she’s infatuated.

“Finally kidnapped her yesterday and kept her up the whole night,” I add in, playing along. Liliver looks scandalized but Nicasia raises a brow and lets out a whistle.

“That’s why you haven’t been answering my calls,” Liliver gives Jude a knowing look and Jude’s jaw ticks just the slightest that they haven’t caught on to her lie. Sorry baby, they cant save you.

She goes to say something, but the barista calls out Nicasia’s name and three cups are slid her way. She hands them each off and looks at me apologetically, having none for me. But Jude waves her off and hands me her cup while taking her bag from my hand. I definitely don’t need more stimulants in my blood, but I grab it and sip from it anyways.

“So what Frat are you in?” Liliver leans against a pillar, eyes narrowed as if trying to visualize where I fit in.

Jude leans against me and tilts her head back to look up at me, “Go on babe, tell them.”

I roll my eyes and tap her nose with the tip of the coffee cup. “Theta Delta Sigma,” I rattle off a bunch of Greek letters and they either don’t care enough to call me out on my bullshit or they have no idea that I’m lying.

“How long have you been in?” Liliver taps a finger on her lips, still trying to place me.

I shrug, “A few years.”

“Ooh,” Nicasia’s eyes sparkle, “What was your initiation like?”

Jude frowns, shifting against me. “I don’t think he can talk about that.”

Her friend rolls her eyes, “What am I gonna do? Tell the campus police? Should I also tell them about the bag of weed I’m carrying or the fake ID you have?” I should throw in the guns in the car and the coke in my pocket, just for kicks.

Jude sighs and rests her head back against me, eyes closing, as if looking for patience. I look down at her, gauging her reaction, but her breathing shallows out far quicker than I’d like. “I had to tie someone up and get them to confess something heinous they did on camera.” This happened of course, but when I was seventeen and Madoc had just about enough of me trailing him. He had sighed and told me, “prove it, then. Show me you want this hell.” He gave me a lowdown and I did as he asked, put the fear of God in the creepy youth pastor who liked to groom little girls and boys. I didn’t want Madoc’s hell. I wanted my own power. There is footage out there of said tortured pedophile, but it won’t ever be released. Because his body won’t ever be found.

“Whoa,” Liliver breathes, “That’s hard core.”

Nicasia’s eyes are wide too but if she does go back on her word and snitches on me to campus patrol, who can’t actually do shit on a crime that doesn’t technically exist towards a made up fraternity, I have the knowledge of her fake ID and bag of weed she’s carrying. I’m not above ratting her out in pure spite. “What did he do?”

“I’d rather not let you lose sleep on that.” I smile and gesture with my chin to Jude who still has yet to open her eyes. Her breathing is far too even for her to be cognate, but she can’t be well into a REM cycle just yet. “Speaking of sleep, I should probably get her home.”

Liliver giggles, “You kept her busy last night, poor Jude.” I hadn’t kept her busy at all. Just paranoid. I shrug bashfully and jostle Jude slightly.

Her eyes flutter open and she glances around with a frown on her face. “Did I just fall asleep?”

“No, you just blinked for a very long time,” Nicasia mutters. She waves her hand in dismissal, “Go cuddle with your little vigilante, I’ll see you later.”

“Vigilante?”

“Say bye to your girls, babe.” I turn and lead her out, she frowns but still twists her body to wave back at her friends.

“You’re not taking me home, are you?”

“Of course not.”

She pouts, “Well, can I least get a sofa this time, I still have kinks in weird places from that chair I spent the day in. Also, can I have alcohol? I think I really need a drink, because I’ve been trying to block everything out, and it was working well because of that test, but things are slowing down and I just keep thinking about that guy with an arrow in his throat. And to think I just grabbed that crossbow from its mount on the wall. I didn’t even think it’d actually shoot.”

Ignoring her mostly, I say, “I’ll do you one better. An actual bed.” She sighs almost contently, continuing her rambles.

“You know if I didn’t have this bullet wound, which – I'm coming to terms with by the way that Ghost shot me –

“He didn’t shoot you,” I tell her and she rolls her eyes like she thinks I’m lying.

“ – I would have escaped my confines,” she continues and I open the door to my truck for her then help her up.

“Oh yeah?” I ask and she nods, leaning down close to my face.

Her blood shot eyes are wide with mirth as she whispers like she’s telling me a secret. “Daddy taught me. In a game,” she lets me know and I don’t like the feeling I get when she confides in me. “I got candy when I won. Red Jolly Ranchers are my favorite.” She grins at me sleepily.

I glance down at her lips then back to her eyes, quite lively today, stunning when the sun hits it right. “You’ll have to show me then.” I pull the seatbelt strap around her, clicking it into place.

She grins, “Anything just to tie me up again, huh?” she snorts and leans back against the seat and I shut the door, heading to the driver side. Her head lolls to look at me, the humored smile tapering slightly. “You don’t have to,” she sighs, “Tie me up, I mean. Daddy’s not coming for me. I learned long ago he doesn’t care about us. He’d let you kill me. Hell, he’ll take the gun from you and shoot me himself just to get it over with.” Despite going into this blind, and still unsure if Ren and Stimpy are related to what Madoc is doing, I’m beginning to grasp most of Jude’s short comings have been catered to her dad’s liking. So, the truth is, I believe her. And with the look of guilt on her face, it’s not hard to guess how torn she is about this tidbit of information.

I think she realizes she’s said too much because she frowns, and when she reaches forward to touch the dials on the radio, her fingers tremble. She fiddles with the stations until she finally settles on something pop.

She falls asleep before the first song even finishes, yet I don’t turn off the blaring music. When I finally park the truck, I turn to face her, taking in the twitch of her fingers and the irises fluttering beneath her lids. Her lips are parted, and I can’t help the smirk at the trail of drool down the side of her mouth. When I reach out to wipe her chin I know I’m fucked. I think I’ve known since the party.

I shake my head and exit the car, jogging to her side to shuffle her into my arms. I sigh and ring the doorbell when I reach the entrance, unable to get my keys at the proper angle, unusually flustered by Jude’s hot breath against my neck. Dain pulls the door open, eyes going wide at the girl in my arms. “This her?”

“No, it’s the fucking pizza you ordered. Move, so I can get in.”

He grins, “I wouldn’t mind eating her.” He’s looking for a reaction and I almost give it to him. My grip on Jude tightens and she stirs, murmuring something before nuzzling deeper into my neck. Dain looks very much amused. He takes a step and I’m disconcerted. I’ve hardly ever used this entrance, but for the past few weeks alone, I’ve seen it more than I’d like. Yeah, I gave myself a complex about this house and being the estranged son of the mayor. When I begged my social worker to find me anyone who would pity me enough to let me couch surf until I hit 18, I never expected her to find Eldred of all people. He had been unconcerned with the new baggage he’d acquired, but Dain, who had only been 17 then, made sure I had a room to sleep in at least. He took care of me, but it wasn’t enough most of the time. Off to repent for his own sins, no time for mine as well. And so when Madoc came along, I stuck by him. Probably having Dain and Madoc as pseudo parents was as dysfunctional as all my foster homes, but I'd take them tag teaming on a half assed parental guidance than reliving any part of my first 14 years of life.

“East,” Dain tells me, when I guess I’ve been standing a minute longer than necessary. I glance and he gives me a knowing look before glancing up the main staircases. Its much easier finding an exit in the place than it is finding the room I spent the last 8 years of my life in.

“Elvira,” I say her name like a question as I make my way up the stairs.

“That primadonna bitch,” Dain mutters, “is napping in the sun room. Your precious princess is fine.” He whines, but Elvira is practically family.

I find my room and set Jude on the bed before I ruffle through my drawers. I hear her yawn just a moment later and when I turn, I see that she’s sat up halfway, resting on her elbows, blinking herself awake. I toss a shirt at her and it lands square in her face. She looks down when it falls into her lap then looks up at me. “Who’s Elvira?” little sneak had been eaves dropping.

I raise a brow and tug my shirt off. She looks at me with wide eyes, trailing over my skin. I reach for the buttons on my jeans, curiously looking over her observation of me. Her skin is flushed, breathing going just a bit shallow, focused on my fingers as I slide down my zipper. She lets out a soft squeak that almost makes me laugh. When my hands no longer obscure my pelvis, Jude places a hand to her cheek, almost resembling the likes of pearl-clutching old ladies.

Scandalized but still watching. “Is that… ?”

“Is that what?”

She holds the shirt I’d given her close to her chest like a lifeline. “Nothing,” she stutters, getting up abruptly.

I glance down wondering if Dain tattooed some gang signs on me without my consent, but I’m sure I’d have already recognized something like that.  Then I understand and I smirk. “Oh,” and I’m absolutely charmed by her being so flustered over a piercing.

"Turn around so I can change."

“I’ve seen it all, Jude.” Her teeth grits at the reminder that I’ve been watching her, even when she had been at her most comfortable. I settle on an accent chair I position close to the door, leaning my head back and parting my legs. “I’ve even seen better,” I muse just to piss her off. I hear her mutter something, and I laugh closing my eyes anyway. After a moment, she huffs and shuffles about. She tells me she done only a minute or two later. I see her jeans and shirt folded neatly at the foot of the bed and further up, I see that the covers are drawn all the way to her chest. She turns to her side, watching me.

“No handcuffs?”

I lean over and dig into the bedside table drawer and pull out a wad of neon zip ties. “Pick a color.”

“Pink,” she holds her hands out, palms down. I twist her hands until her palms face each other and loop the plastic around her wrist. “What about my arm?”

It’s bleeding when I glance at it, but it doesn’t seem dire. “You’ll be fine.” She scowls at me but shifts until she feels comfortable. I get up to draw the curtains close, then return to the chair.

“Did it hurt?”

I look at the way the glow from the lamp reflects in her irises. Her tawny eyes look golden. “When I fell from heaven?”

She glares at me, “I know you crawled out of hell. I meant, you know, your piercing.”

I chuckle and lean back, “Yeah, when I got it, sure.”

“Why would you get something like that?”

“Nobody’s really complaining, Jude.” I grin, “Want a feel?” she rolls her eyes but there’s a part of me that knows I could never let that shit happen if she were to even spite me and say yes. The thought of her grinding her hips against mine just to find that perfect angle, to get my piercing to rub her swollen clit, has my hands clenching. Jude might actually kill me before I can even point a bullet in her direction. “Fuck,” I groan out, slumping back. If she notices my sudden turmoil, then she doesn’t comment on it.

“So, is Elvira part of your roster of girls?” I give her a look, trying to assess if she’s going for small talk or if Lolli had really bothered her. Indignant, and maybe even vindictive, she tilts her chin almost proudly and adds, “Just want to know where I fall on the list. Is it Elvira, Sophie, Lolli then me? Sophie, Lolli, me then Elvira?” The mention of Sophie’s name has me tensed and sobered. What bothers me the most is that, somehow Jude had made it to the top of the list, albeit, different from what she’s getting at, but still, I couldn’t let her know that.

Before I can say something to piss her off, the door slams open, and we both turn to see a very erratic looking Ghost enter. He glances at me, eyeing my lack of attire, then Jude, who’s arm had started bleeding through my shirt. “Shit,” Ghost mutters, handing me the laptop he had been carrying and the coffee he probably should lay off of. “I’ll let Valerian know,” he tells us, shrugging off his sweater and bunching it up to place on Jude’s arm. She winces and lets out a curse, but Ghost only turns to me to explain, “No malware… but. Shit man, what the hell is Gen getting you into?”

I open the laptop, walking it over to Jude. There’s a video already on screen, paused. Its dim and grainy and despite half the screen being partially obscured, I make out the features of the sleeping girl on screen. It’s Jude, I realize. Except it’s not. Identical until the mirror image starts to look off. I cant explain it, but I know that’s not Jude in the video. Jude reaches and hits the play button, but she’s so stiff that it seems like every move hurts her to make. Ghost watches me as I alternate between watching Jude and the video. I don’t understand until Jude gasps. Her eyes widen in horror and I think it’s saying something that she’s this petrified given the past few weeks that she’s had. Her eye’s well up and when I turn to the screen, it’s like a buzzing noise starts in my ears. I can’t hear anything but static when I recognize the knife being held to the jugular of the sleeping girl.

I feel a bit sick, recalling images that had been sent to me, nearly identical, but instead of Jude’s look-alike, it had been my fiancée, and back then, I had been far too late. I look to Ghost, wondering how this had escalated from ransom for Jude to emotional torture for me. It’s like my presence had escalated the danger. “They know,” I say. But its more than that, something clicks in my mind but I don’t want to think about it at all, I don’t want it to be real.

Suddenly, Jude lets out a gasp, and jolts against Ghost. Her arm jerks a little then the rest of her body starts to shake uncontrollably. I grab on to her, but her eyes roll back and her body slumps.  Ghost pries my hands from Jude – I hadn’t realized I had been squeezing so hard – and he grabs the laptop after guiding her down. Then he tells me what I’ve already figured, “That’s her sister. That’s Taryn.”

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